#Brown Sugar Market Share

[diigo123456]

Natural Brown Sugar Market is expected to offer significant growth at a CAGR of 3.8% during the forecast period 2023-2030 | Sudzucker, Tate & Lyle, Imperial Sugar, Nordic Sugar A/S, C&H Sugar, American Crystal Sugar

The demand for healthy foods is the main thing driving the growth of the global market for natural brown sugar. People in India and China are eating healthier foods like low-sugar desserts and drinks more and more. This has increased the demand for natural brown sugar in these countries. Unrefined cane sugar is another name for natural brown sugar. It hasn’t been treated with chemicals, so it still has the minerals that are naturally found in sugarcane juice. How each type of sugar was taken from the plant affects its color, taste, texture, and amount of moisture. Potassium (60 mg), calcium (18 mg), and magnesium are some of the nutrients in brown sugar (20mg).

Click Here For A Free Sample PDF Copy Of The Natural Brown Sugar Market Latest Research Before Purchase:

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

[chuuyrr]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ SANTA DOESN'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO — DAZAI OSAMU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𐙚₊ CW(s): f! reader, exes to lovers, angst to fluff/comfort, christmas/holiday setting, he still calls you pet names like baby, love, and sweetheart

𐙚₊˚⊹ SYNOPSIS: underneath the twinkling christmas lights, you and osamu embrace the promise of a love rekindled

𐙚₊ NOW PLAYING: santa doesn't know you like i do by sabrina carpenter && new years day by taylor swift ᝰ.ᐟ

in the heart of yokohama, where the winter winds whispered secrets and the city adorned itself in festive lights, you find yourself wandering around in a deep sigh, clutching yourself with your coat adorning you.

the city exuded warmth, and the scent of roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, and an open fire from christmas markets and stores mingled with the laughter of children and adults enjoying the holidays.

as you strolled through the festive scene, you couldn't escape the echoes of your shared past with dazai.

you then stop in front of a familiar bar which was decorated with bright christmas lights and wreaths, and at that moment, you find yourself lost in a sea of memories, reminiscing about the shared moments with osamu, before the inevitable drift that led to your breakup.

among those recollections, two particular scenes painted themselves vividly in your mind, haunting yet bittersweet.

one memory that lingered like a gentle melody was the night you and osamu ventured into the same dimly lit bar, saying that you two deserve a treat.

the air hummed with the soulful tunes of saxophones and pianos as you two nestled into a corner booth. the ambient glow cast a warm aura, reflecting in dazai's brown sugar eyes as you and him clinked glasses of your high-ball whiskeys, toasting to the beauty of the night.

your laughter resonated with the rhythm of the music, creating a symphony of shared joy. osamu, with his enigmatic smile, leaned in to whisper secrets that only you could understand amidst the jazz-infused atmosphere.

it was a night where time seemed to suspend, and your connection deepened through the language of music, laughter, and stories which lead to a shared kiss that became your first.

another memory that tugged at the corners of your heart was the night you spent at osamu's apartment. the air was thick with familiarity as you found solace in the haven he had crafted, even if it was quite empty and rather mininalist, considering how he didn't have much.

either way, you and osamu talked about everything and nothing, the conversation weaving effortlessly between trivialities and profound truths—some even about his day at work, how annoying working on reports was. you even find yourself dancing with him around his kitchen in the middle of the night.

as that night unfolded, osamu's clothes became a comforting embrace, wrapping you in the scent of familiarity. wearing his oversized shirt, you found a sense of closeness, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

the cityscape outside his window faded into the background as you and him reveled in the simplicity of being together in his futon, you in his warm embrace, head tucked beneath his chin as you lay on his chest, and he hummed a peacefully melody with his fingers running through your hair to lull you.

the quiet hum of his apartment became a sanctuary in those stolen hours, and even he thought it became a place he could call home when it was previously simply a scarcely filled space, and now it felt more than that. that is, until the fall arrived.

it was a night where the barriers between you and him melted away, leaving only the echoes of whispered confessions of "i love yous" and sweet nothings, along with the soft rustle of borrowed clothes.

now, you stand alone with the weight of these memories, you couldn't help but wonder if those moments were fragments of a love that had slipped through your fingers.

the bar and the borrowed clothes became artifacts of a time when you and osamu reveled in the magic of each other's company, a magic that time, circumstances, and perhaps your own choices had dimmed.

and still, you held onto those memories, recognizing them as delicate fragments of a past that was, in its own way, a testament to the beauty of what you two once had.

the air was crisp, and the city bustled with the festive energy of the holiday season, and you were about to turn away from the bar only to walk and bump into a familiar figure.

there, in the midst of the bustling crowd, stood dazai, and time seemed to freeze for an instant as your eyes met his ever same, warm brown sugar eyes, and the weight of unspoken words lingered in the air—a moment suspended in the delicate dance between past and present.

"osamu," you murmur softly, the name escaping your lips almost as a reflex. his gaze, once distant, softened with a recognition that mirrored your own.

a tentative smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the shared history that bounds you both, "hey, fancy meeting you here," he remarks, his voice carrying the hint of a memory you both couldn't escape.

as the crowd flowed around you and dazai, you find yourself standing in a pocket of stillness, a space where the weight of your past lingered.

"what are you doing out here? looking for presents, dear?" dazai strikes a conversation, but you can tell he seemed to be trying to hold himself back. you can tell he was very much ecstatic to see you again despite before.

"no, i was just going for a walk," you respond, rubbing your arm as you blink softly at him.

"just going for a walk this holiday, huh?" he narrows his eyes, a small chuckle escaping his breath, and his gaze soon draws towards the bar where you two would go for a drink, dine, and date.

like a canvas of unread stories, his eyes then hold, a mix of emotions, "funny how memories have a way of catching up with us," he replies, his gaze tracing the invisible threads that connected your past to this chance encounter.

"you know, sometimes, i do wonder if our memories are trying to tell us something," dazai muses, his words resonating with a quiet introspection as you two stood there, grappling with the unspoken question of what these chance encounters meant.

dazai's eyes, once filled with the mischievous sparkle that characterized him, now furrows in a subtle frown as he observed your quiet and somewhat awkward demeanor. the cheerful and festive background chatter of the city around you seemed to fade, leaving only the palpable tension between you and him.

"so," dazai began, a playful lilt in his voice as if attempting to break the uneasy silence, "you've become the epitome of quiet contemplation, i see. is this a new tactic to throw off my deductive skills?" his words were accompanied by a teasing smile, a familiar attempt to coax you into banter.

however, your response remained trapped in the awkwardness that seemed to have enveloped you. reminiscing memories had resurrected emotions that you struggled to articulate, and the weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

his playful demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a genuine concern mirrored in the subtle downturn of his lips. "heh, you're usually more... animated," he mutters, his gaze searching for clues in the quietness that now defined you.

"i guess i've changed, dazai," you mumble, attempting to offer an explanation for the unspoken shift in your dynamic. the words, however, felt inadequate, like leaves carried away by the wind before they could settle.

dazai's eyebrows knit together in a mild frustration, especially when you no longer address him as such, "change, my love, is a curious thing. but this quiet version of you doesn't quite suit the narrative i had in mind," he teases, yet the tease carried an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

as he continued to speak, the air between you two seemed to thicken with unspoken tension. his attempts at light banter fell against the backdrop of my quiet contemplation, creating a dissonance that neither of you anticipated.

a sigh escapes him, a subtle acknowledgment of the unforeseen awkwardness, "i thought we could maybe reminisce and laugh about old times, but it seems like i've stumbled upon a different scene altogether," his frown deepening.

in that moment, the vulnerability beneath dazai's usual charm became apparent. the frown on his face reflected not just confusion but a genuine longing for the familiarity, the connection that once flowed effortlessly between the two of you.

"hey, since we're already in front of the bar we used to frequent, do you mind sharing a drink with me tonight?" he asked, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and vulnerability.

your eyes widen a bit in shock. you know you shouldn't, but it just feels so right to say,

"no, i don't mind at all."

memories of laughter, music, and stolen glances resurfaced, painting a vivid scene against the backdrop of the night in the bar of cozy glow of christmas lights and laughter and merriment, yet the weight of those moments hanging in the air.

dazai's gaze became more introspective, his words chosen with care as the two of you sat together by the bar on the cushioned stools with your usual high-ball whiskeys.

"you know, i've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about us and everything that happened," he starts quietly after taking a sip from his drink, "there are words left unsaid, and i think it's time to address them."

as dazai spoke, a rare sincerity colored his voice, unraveling the layers of complexity that often shrouded his emotions, and the night now became a stage for a conversation that held the potential for healing.

"i suppose so," you say back quietly as you swirl your drink around, holding it by the rim and making the ice cube clink against the glass.

you turn to look at dazai, and you see him a take a deep breath as he places his hands in the pocket of his sandy brown coat.

"i want to say sorry," dazai continues, his eyes searching yours for a reaction, "sorry for the moments i let slip away, for the words i said and didn't say, and for the distance that grew between us, and i never meant for it to end like that.."

the rare vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, a bridge between the past and the present. the ambiance of the bar now stood witness to a moment of genuine confession.

"and i miss you," dazai confesses, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "i miss the laughter, the shared silences, and the way you understood the chaos within me, and if i can be completely honest, i still love you."

the weight of those words settled in the air, carrying with them the echoes of a love that had weathered storms and yet lingered in the recesses of the past. the quietness between you two even seemed to amplify the significance of the moment, as if the universe itself conspired to create a space for the honesty that had long been overdue.

your heart, a mosaic of emotions, responded to his words, caught between the scars of the past and the possibility of a future rewritten.

you, too, couldn't deny the resonance between you and him, "i guess, christmas has a way of making even the coldest hearts nostalgic," you say in a quiet giggle, your gaze meeting his.

the chilly night seemed to warm however.

"i'm sorry too. i'm sorry for giving up on us," you sigh, taking sip of your drink for liquid courage as the unspoken words became spoken now, "i just, it felt like there was no other way, and that this is for the best for us, osamu."

"you called me osamu again," a smile now tugs on his lips, his eyes lighting up with hope.

"oh, shut up," a smile, too, breaks on your face but you sigh softly once more as you look at him once more, "but i mean every word, osamu."

"i know you do, sweetheart," dazai says with a nod before he raises his glass to you.

"yeah," you hum softly as your raise the glass in return to his, toasting to him.

amidst the snowflakes and the soft glow of christmas lights outside, dazai and you find yourselves in the midst of an unexpected reunion, the chilly air echoed with warm memories, and beneath the twinkling stars.

this festive season really had a peculiar way of unraveling emotions, and as you crossed paths with dazai and it was evident that the connection between you two was more than a mere coincidence.

after a heartfelt conversation of unspoken words between you two with a few drinks at the bar, dazai offered to take you back to your place since it was quite late despite the holidays.

however, in a quiet corner just near your place, away from the laughter and merriment, dazai's eyes met yours as he walked right by your side.

"what is it?" you ask, looking up at him.

a subtle smirk plays on his lips as he pauses his tracks, and so do you, "you know, santa doesn't know you like i do."

it was a statement layered with memories of shared secrets and intimate moments.

as you exchanged glances, the familiarity of your history danced between you two, like a delicate snowfall. you genuinely smile nonetheless at his words, "maybe we've been on the naughty list for too long," you teased, a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

dazai took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours, "and santa may not understand us, but perhaps we can rewrite our story," he suggests, his gaze holding a sincerity that transcended the mask of indifference he often wore, "yeah?"

surrounded by the symphony of the season, you can't help but feel a little emotional as a genuine smile tugs on your lips as you nod and whisper, "yeah."

the clock struck midnight, time reaches its crescendo, and the world around you both seemed to pause in reverence to the magic of christmas, and just like that, coincidentally beneath the mistletoe that was hanging on the street light, his arms wrap around you and pulls you to him.

dazai's lips then meets yours in a kiss that spoke in volumes—a reunion of past and present, a bridge between shared memories and the promise of a love rediscovered.

as you two pull away, breathless, the quiet acknowledgment between you two lingered in the cold air of christmas eve. snow falls as he leans in again, and dazai holds you in his embrace like he always does.

"merry christmas, my sweet girl. i love you," dazai softly whispers in your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek this time around.

𐙚₊ A.N.: advanced merry christmas from yours truly my lovelies ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ hope ya'll enjoy this christmas dazai fic i cooked in the kitchen—this is also my first time writing an exes to lovers fic, especially with dazai, so yeah !!

𐙚₊ TAGGING: @anqelically (here's ur food <3), && @dazaiyohane @lovedazai @osaemu (my dazai lover moots too ofc hehe, i think you guys will like this- ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ )

[jungle-angel]

It Smells Like Home (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Ever since moving, you and Bob have decided that you're going to have a very, very cozy Halloween with the babies

Bob took another sip of his oatmeal cookie flavored coffee, at least the second one he had that morning while two-year-old Patrick came waddling down the stairs, rubbing his little eyes and clutching his blue crocheted blankie.

"Hi bubby," Bob cooed as he lifted him up and kissed his soft little cheeks. "You're up too early."

"No sleepy," Patrick yawned.

Bob gently patted his son's back and set him back down on the floor. "You hungry?"

Patrick nodded before pulling his chair out and climbing right up.

Bob immediately fixed him some eggs, a little bit of diced ham and a tiny little cup of blueberries. "You wanna help Dada bake today?"

"Yes peas!!!"

Bob chuckled as he heated up his coffee and picked at his own plate of ham and eggs. He felt bad that it would just be him and Patrick for most of the day with you having gone to help Bob's parents get things settled around the new ranch and to help his Meemaw with her doctor's appointments. But Bob was happy since it meant bonding time with the littler of your two, soon to be three children.

As soon as breakfast was done, Bob cleared the dishes and put on "It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" both for Patrick and for the background noise while he baked. He kept it on repeat, never once annoyed by how many times it played, comforted by the memories it brought for both him and you.

Patrick kept himself occupied by teasing and playing with Tank, the burly rottweiler who helped Bob and his father keep control of the cattle. Bandit, the newest addition, a one year old blue heeler, snoozed away on the couch, completely unfazed by Patrick's little baby giggles.

It wasn't long before the whole house began to smell so good, overwhelmed with the aromas of chocolate, cinnamon, pumpkin, apples and sweet sugar. Bob loved when the fall farmers' markets came to town, leaving your family swimming in baked goods until then.

"Patrick," he called. "Patrick come taste for Daddy."

Patrick waddled right into the kitchen and took a large bite of a chocolate and vanilla cream cookie that had been shaped into a pointed little witch hat.

"MMMM yummy!" Patrick loudly and happily declared, the chocolate crumbs still all along the edges of his mouth.

Bob laughed, finishing off the rest before Patrick went back to his own business.

Bob had completely lost track of the time, when in the middle of the tenth or so rerun of the Peanuts Halloween special, Patrick had fallen right asleep with his blankie tucked under his arm. You had just come through the door with Auggie, quietly shutting it so that Patrick wouldn't wake.

"I've got him sweetheart," Bob assured you.

"You sure?" you asked him.

"I'm certain," he told you, picking the sleeping toddler up off the couch and carrying him up the stairs with you, laying him down on your shared bed for a nap. He covered Patrick with his blankie and tucked his little brownie bear under his arm, letting him sleep the afternoon away.

"You think he'll sleep for a while?" you asked.

"He'll probably sleep till dinner," Bob answered, taking you in his arms and kissing you. "She awake?"

"Wouldn't stop moving ever since we left your Meemaw's appointment," you chuckled.

You and Bob leaned in, pressing your foreheads against each other. "Wanna go and watch the Peanuts Halloween cartoon?" he asked. "Patrick's been watching it all day."

You hummed happily. "With you? I'll watch anything."

You and Bob soon found yourselves downstairs, snuggled under the couch blankets while your sons were upstairs napping the afternoon away, watching the Peanuts cartoons and the smell of baked goods filling your home with their delicious scents and your dreams of a cozy Halloween with Bob, fully having come true.

[twst-drabbles]

Lilia 9

Summary: Tracking down a pack of stealing faeries, General Lilia finds their path ending on a lone human being forcibly bathed.

(A reminder that I am not a spoiler-free blog. I tend to read ahead and skip around for my entertainment. That being said, time travel shenanigans with the Janitor who gets caught up in all this. Is it canon to the Janitor AU? Probably not but the thought is fun.)

Soaps. Since when has Lilia ever heard of those little faeries, those pixies sneaking into stores and flea markets for the sake of stealing soaps? It’s not unusual for them to pick and take what they like. He’s had a number of sugar cookies stolen right from his hand just as the grateful citizens stuffed them in his palm. The faeries love for sweets would rival that troublesome princess’s love for her egg.

Lilia usually isn’t one to deal with smaller problems such as these, as they resolve themselves, but pixies are unusually sensitive to scents, to the point of avoiding cities and villages alike. For them to go out of their way to steal these scented soaps tells Lilia that something was wrong. Off. While the signals are usually more subtle, often the little faeries are the first to know of incoming danger.

Lilia only hopes this wasn’t the case.

Hiding his presence among the leaves in this forested area was second nature to him. He didn’t have the hollow bones of birds, but his steps would tell one otherwise. If even the pixies can’t tell he’s tailing them, then who was he to deny the claims?

Ahead of him was a light in this dark night, and in his ears Lilia heard the rush of a river. He took a deep breath in just as the water pixie dipped out of sight with their hoard of coin-like soaps. However, rather than the crisp scent of midnight grass and river water, Lilia was hit with the sharp smell of roiling magic.

It was the likes that Lilia has only witnessed when the princess was well and truly fed up.

“Ah, that’s too hot!”

In his concentration, the blunt sound of voice nearly made Lilia’s heel slip from a branch.

“Oh, these next? Alright, hand them here. Let’s hope it gets the smell out,” landing on the nearest tree, Lilia spots an immaculate white tub with clawed feet right below the gaze of a tree house that may as well be mansion. Inside the mess of bubbles that covered everything except for the face was you, a lone human surrounded by faeries with their little arms hauling the soaps they’ve stole.

A human? Here? You’d basically be a sitting duck in this location, and yet here you are, unmarked, cursed by no one, and actually being bathed by them?

The water pixie Lilia was tailing dropped the silver soap into the tub. Another surge of bubbles came forth and overflowed the tub, blue in color. A triplet of wood faeries carried a brown bucket over your head before dumping water to rinse you off.

You wiped the water from your eyes with a sigh, “Nope. I still stink of magic. Let’s try the next one.”

The water faerie jingled out their tune of frustration, a quick and harsh number. You picked up a handful of bubbles before blowing them at their feet.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to smell like my old self eventually. It was a crazy reaction of spells that interacted, so it is going to take some time.”

The water faerie landed on your palm, sneezed and flew right back to the branches, only to come face to face with Lilia in his mask. The poor little thing screamed.

It’s easy to come to the belief that the smaller the fae, the less powerful they are. To the ignorant, it’s the truth, but for people such as Lilia, with their small size comes a certain amount of finesse that not even the princess would be able to replicate. It’s why they can combine their forces so well to make the forest yawn open to expose his location and manipulate the river current to aim right at him.

Too bad Lilia’s dealt with his fair share of angered pixies. With a leap, soared over the water and landed the tips of his toes on the edge of your tub.

“Never would I see the day,” Lilia leaned down to your stiff face, “that a human would receive the favor of the faeries. How did you do that, Human?”

Perhaps this was trick, or a mistake of some kind. Humans would have to resort to such things, of that Lilia wouldn’t be shocked by. Creatures with lives as short as yours are often so protective of their own flesh, so, one would have to forgive Lilia for being caught off guard when you kicked his feet and had him land face first into the water.

“At least let me get a towel first,” you grumbled out as you reached over a pulled it off the grass, “I don’t need anymore stress. Things are already tiresome and confusing as they are.”

It seems that General Lilia has found himself in the company of rather interesting human.

[aevallare]

if auri and neve had 2 share a meal at arbys what would they get and who would pay

hello not @again-please

i think auri would order the magnificent Arby's King's Hawaiian Brown Sugar Bacon Turkey Meal. this would appeal to her sweet tooth as well as her preference for Light Meat.

neve, of course, would order a Greek Gyro Meal off the Market Fresh Menu, sponsored by Arby's. she's a much more conscientious eater than auri i think, who has no etiquette or manners.

they would of course share these meals romantically and then i think they would have a Jamocha Shake together. in an erotic sense.

[ligbi]

Now that we are in a dungeon meshi lull, I want to share the bread recipe I have been using every single week to have Saturday morning bread with my mother. It's essentially this recipe [x] but for people who have not yet tried their hands at baking, I'd like to break down the process so everyone can have a delicious treat.

To start you will need on hand:

Oven that can get to 425° F

Refrigerator that seals and stays cold

9x13 baking pan- glass or other

Salt- table

Sugar- normal

Flour- all purpose (normal)

Olive oil

Yeast

Either drinkable tap water that can get Hot or water and a microwave

Measuring spoons (teaspoon specifically)(the bigger but not biggest one if you have four)

Measuring cup

A large ceramic bowl

Spatula- the kind for scraping

Hand towels or tea towel- kitchen towels. Cheap towels

Pam or another spray oil (buttered flavored if you have that on accident) - optional but useful

Salt- big and crunchy - optional but useful

A piece of twine you can measure and cut, or a rubber band

Big spatula- flippy kind- optional but useful

Plates, napkins, cooling rack, oven mitts, sponge, dish soap balsamic, dipping bowl(s) - your call on what you need for eating and cleaning

Bread knife - or rip it with your hands like an animal. Or use a normal knife

I always start Thursday night- it takes about 20 minutes to prep, and then do the rest Saturday morning- 5 minutes of prep part 2 + 5 minutes of pre oven prep + 30 minutes of cook time. So the entire process is about 30 minutes and a lot of waiting.

To start, you will want to put two teaspoons of yeast into the ceramic bowl (clean). The glass jars of Fleishman can be found at most grocery and big box stores. If you do not want to buy a whole jar, one of the packets they have is about the right amount (they usually come in 3 packs).

Measure 2 cups of hot water. We want about 110° so too hot to touch comfortably but not scalding. You need your water hot to activate the yeast, but too hot will kill it.

Slowly pour the hot water over the yeast, and sprinkle in a pinch of sugar, and mix this brown water with a spatula (scraping kind) for about 10 seconds before letting it sit for 10 minutes. The yeast eats the sugar and the time allows the years to proof. After 10 minutes you will see a type of foam on top of the water, which is proof the yeast is active.

Measure out two cups of flour and add them to the yeast+water. King Arthur all purpose flour is just fine and dandy, you do not Need bread flour and King Arthur is employee owned.

On top of the flour, add two teaspoons of salt. You can use any salt, and can experiment with different flavor profiles. If you go to spice shops or even Renaissance Faires, you can find flavored salts that add a nice kick. You can also use regular normal table salt.

Use the spatula to mix the flour+salt into the water+yeast until you have a goo.

Add one more cup of flour and mix it in with the spatula. Add the last cup of flour and finish mixing it into a dough.

Make sure to scrape the sides of the bowl and that everything is mixed in. The dough should be unable to hold shape well when pushing it into a ball, and there should be no visible white flour left in the dough.

Pour some olive oil around the dough into the bowl. You can eyeball this (1 tablespoon minimum)- you are not drowning the dough but you do want enough to cover the dough and then some. You can easily swap out olive oils for flavored and infused ones. There are a lot of bootleg oils on the market, but whatever you probably have on hand should be fine for your first bake.

Roll the dough around in the oil with the spatula to make sure it is fully covered. While you are not adding in olive oil properly, you can mix it in a little when oiling it up to make it nice.

Drape a kitchen towel over the top of the bowl so it is fully covered. Take your twine or string and tie it tightly at the top of the bowl and cut it it. This can be reused with this bowl in the future. If you do not have twine, a rubber band will also keep the towel in place. We just want to keep the breathable piece of fabric tight over the top of the bowl.

Stick the bowl in the fridge for like. A day- day and a half. If you started at 10pm Thursday night, it should now be about 10:20 with a spatula, measuring spoon, and measuring cup to clean up. The dough will slowly rise in the fridge and you can move onto the next steps after 24-48 hours.

I wake up at a stupid time like 6am on Saturday.

Spray the pam or other oil on the sides and bottom of the 9x13 pan. You can also just use a paper towel to rub olive oil on the sides. We just want everything greased.

Pour some olive oil on the bottom of the pan and tilt it around to cover the entire bottom. Start with a little and add more if needed. More is not bad- it will give the bread a nice crunch while still being soft inside.

Take the bowl out and use that spatula to gently pull the dough away from the sides of the bowl. The dough will have risen and will seem stringy when pulled away.

Slowly pour the dough into the greased pan until it plops out.

Shake it around a bit and maybe poke at it with the spatula to get it centered and not flipped over on itself. The dough will be expanding for the next 4 hours and you don't have to worry about spreading it in the pan.

Cover with a/the same tea towel and try to get it taut over the pan to keep the towel from touching and sticking to the dough. Trying to get the covers of the pan on top of the edges of the towel may work depending on the towel.

Set that aside for four hours. I go back to bed. At some point between here and the next step you should put some dish soap in your bowl and fill it with water. After a 20 minute soak its easy to wash it clean with a sponge.

9:30 or 3 and a half hours later- pre-heat the over to 425° F. If you want Celsius or other measurements this whole time, its about 280 Celsius, 2 teaspoons is about 10 millimeters or .35 oz (dry) and 2 cups is 16 oz fluid.

MAKE SURE THE OVEN IS EMPTY FIRST. Other trays or pans will take some of the heat and the bake will be off.

Once the oven is done pre-heating (it should beep or have a light indicator for this) wash your hands really really well, and pour some more olive oil on top of the dough. You will carefully cover the top of the dough with oil by rubbing it over with your hands. Make sure it is fully covered. There may be bubbles on the top now- that means you've done it right till now. If not, that's fine it will still be good.

Take your big chunky salt (sea salt works well or chunky kosher salt) and sprinkle it on the dough. You do not want to go too heavy, but it will add a nice texture. If you have a salt container with the cracker thingy you turn to get it out, i do about 6-8 cracks while trying to move it up and down the dough.

Take your clean hands (because you washed after the oil and then again just now after the salt) and spread your fingers out and down like shitty claws. Dimple the bread with your fingers by just poking it a lot. Try to avoid the bubbles if you can for a nice look.

If you ever want to put something on top like rosemary or sliced tomatoes or whatever, now is the time. Not me though.

Stick that baby in the oven roughly center and set the timer for 30 minutes.

While it bakes, get your cooling rack/big plate/serving board out, and your oven mitts. And a bread knife/whatever knife you want to use. And a really big spatula (flipping kind).

When the 30 minutes is up, use the oven mitts to pull out the pan and put it on a heat resistant surface like the top of the oven. Take your big spatula and slide that bad boy down a side and try to wiggle it around until it's under the loaf. If you don't have a big spatula, you can always flip the bread out of the pan by dumping it out onto your rack/board/plate.

With the oven mitts, move the pan to your cooling rack and with one hand tilt it up and with the other use the spatula to slide the loaf out onto the rack.

Set the pan and spatula aside to wash later.

Take your cooling rack and put it amongst friends with the knife. Get some plates. If you have any balsamic vinegar and/or more olive oil for dipping, set that out too. Napkins. Drinks. Delicious in Dungeon on the tv. Live. Laugh. Love. Eat.

[lionheartapothecaryx]

Hoodoo 101 - Jezebel Root

What is Jezebel root & why is it used in Traditional Hoodoo & Vodou?

Jezebel Root is a feminine root used in traditional Hoodoo & Vodou for dominating a wealthy man, sugar daddy or powerful person and is sometimes used for hexing or cursing. This root was named after a mythical biblical figure Queen Jezebel who belonged the Omri dynasty of the Kingdom Israel in 852 BC. As a controversial figure, she was known to be extremely cunning and ruthless, using her power to gain the upper hand by any means necessary. Historically this plant has been used by ADOS who practiced Hoodoo & Vodou, for a variety of reasons. The Jezebel stereotype was an oppressive image that was used for the sexual assault and servitude of black women during chattel slavery in the US. This root was typically associated with brothels, working girls, vaudeville/showgirls and mistresses who needed to keep their bills paid and food on their tables, by attracting abundance and docility from rich clients to better their lives as a means of survival.

Today this root is still very potent and extremely beneficial for anyone who works in any type of service industry but is typically used by women seeking a luxury lifestyle via wealthy boyfriend or sugar daddy. Typically, these roots are fed or dressed in a variety of ways and placed in mojo bags, candles or other spells to manifest their intention.

Unfortunately, in modern times authentic Jezebel root has been extremely hard to come by and the majority of Jezebel root being sold on the market is actually common garden variety mulch or cherry bark. To the untrained eye it might resemble an actual root, especially when ground up. Here is a common example of fake jezebel root that you’ll typically see being sold in spiritual shops in person or online below.

Real jezebel root should not resemble bark or any type of mulch. Depending on the maturity of the root, the main root will always have multiple smaller roots sprouting from it, unless they have been clipped or shaven off. It should always look like a root! Fake jezebel root is also easy to snap and like most bark, has a dark brown center. Real jezebel root should be somewhat flexible and have a white center, when broken open.

While this is an easy to mistake to make, many trusted shops are STILL selling fake jezebel root to their clientele. I’ve always been passionate about collecting and providing authentic high-quality goods for myself and my patrons at an affordable price. So I’ve been working on a way to provide REAL Jezebel root to the public for the past few years.

I’m pleased to announce my shop will finally be offering in limited quantity plant shares of Jezebel root to purchase during the upcoming spring season of 2023 under our new indoor grow system.

Click HERE to Shop authentic Jezebel Root

Limited to one per person. We also offer Shop Installments via Affirm and accept PayPal & Apple Pay.

[meklarian]

Gooseberries

This post has been sitting in my drafts for over a decade, left behind after I stopped posting new fruit finds on tumblr. Since then I’ve had a lot of new fruit encounters, but never again have I dared to sink my teeth into a gooseberry.

It’s been a long time but I remember I bought these at the market in Granville Island in Vancouver, BC; knowing that I had to finish the fruit before crossing back over the US border and yet optimistic that these were going to be sweet. I bought about a 1/3 of a pound / .25kg. This was a severe overestimation.

Dear reader, I don’t do particularly well with sour things- and these were especially sour for reasons unknown to me. I don’t think I finished the bag.

In my lifetime I have encountered aperitifs designed to reset the palate, and these are a potent cleanser. I would rate them more sour than a lemon, maybe not as sour as your drugstore malic-acid-laced candy, but certainly of a class where one might feel like one should be concerned for the integrity of one’s teeth after a few bites.

I didn’t recognize a distinct flavor profile out of the gooseberry; this is probably because their potency is beyond what I’m able to taste. In the time since then I’ve had indian gooseberries as well (aamla), which were similarly sour but still had a faint cucumber-like note straining behind the acidity.

The texture of the gooseberry, fortunately, is not too far off from a grape; once one accepts the slightly burred and veined skins. It’s always a little comforting to have familiar-looking things present and provide an experience to their presumed counterparts. In the explorative world, a grape-like thing should taste and have a texture like a grape; a brown sapote tastes and feels like a brown-sugar-laced apple or pear; and a gooseberry does feel like it is in some wilderness between a grape and a berry. Sad to think that the gooseberry is a sort of betrayal too; a very sour thing that could almost masquerade as a grape, yet no grape would ever be as churlish.

I am writing this because I feel like it’s time to reclaim the empty space of my drafts, even though there is no trophy nor award to be had for maintaining an orderly house in an online dwelling. Maybe I will resume writing and sharing more of these food adventures again someday; but for now this is the end of the road for these culinary adventures.

[hippolotamus]

get to know your fic writer

tagged by the lovely and talented @stereopticons @jesuisici33 @heartshapedvows @wikiangela Thank you mwah! 😘

When did you post your first ever fanfic?

July 24, 2021

First character(s) you wrote for:

I had always written for OCs and never considered writing for established characters until I met David and Patrick from Schitt's Creek. After a few months of reading SC fics I finally wrote something of my own.

Main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Currently Buck and Eddie, but I also write for Alexis/Twyla and David/Patrick

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

I’m not sure I have any? Technically I’ve not really written Lucy before so exploring that currently is interesting. Does that count?

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

911, Schitt's Creek

Platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Currently Buck and Lucy but I also love writing David and Stevie.

Romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Buck/Eddie, Alexis/Twyla, David/Patrick

Your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

Fluff, First kiss, POV David Rose

Your current platform where you post your works:

AO3

Snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

This is a future scene that I don’t think really spoils anything. But I love it and what I’m not sharing made me ugly cry so…

Buck cups his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss there. He gets a grunt in response that makes him chuckle under his breath. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

Stiff, achy joints make getting out of bed much more of a process than it used to be. Eventually he swings his legs over the mattress and puts on his slippers. After relieving himself, he shuffles to the kitchen for breakfast.

The routine hasn’t changed much in the years since they retired. A few more prescriptions have found their way into the medicine cabinet, and neither one of them eats a hearty meal like they used to. But Buck still starts by turning on the radio and getting coffee ready for when Eddie wakes up, the same way he has for decades.

While the coffee maker gurgles, dripping the precious liquid into the pot below, Buck gets his own breakfast ready. He pulls out a container of plain yogurt, then some berries Chris brought from the market yesterday. Slowly, steadily Buck assembles a small bowl with his ingredients, topping it off with honey and granola. Before he takes it to the table he fills a mug with coffee, cream and sugar for himself, and sets an extra mug out for Eddie.

An old country song he can’t remember the name of anymore plays on the radio. The singer croons about a Mexican maiden and a young cowboy, wild as the Texas wind. Buck looks to the doorway and smiles to himself thinking about the young cowboy who swept him off his feet so long ago.

Eddie’s hair has turned completely gray, coffee brown eyes have dulled, surrounded by wrinkles and crow’s feet, and there’s nothing quick about his movements anymore. Not that Buck’s any better. It doesn’t stop him from seeing the ruggedly handsome man with the devastating smile that could always stop Buck in his tracks.

I’ll call on @blackandwhiteandrose @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @vanillahigh00 @monsterrae1 @buddierights @statueinthestone @spotsandsocks @pirrusstuff @apothecarose @rmd-writes my love @lizzie-bennetdarcy @your-catfish-friend @watchyourbuck @thewolvesof1998 @forthewolves @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @hoodie-buck and anyone else who wants to

[inkykeiji]

3 with flawless Tomura please 🙈

prompt: strawberry moon series: flawless AU warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, female reader, daddy kink, lots of saliva, lots of sugar, little bit of public indecency, blowjobs + cum swallowing words: 1.4k

Laying on the sand with a thick fringed blanket, you’re the only two left on the beach, most of the other patrons having packed up and left the moment the sun began to sink. Waves tenderly lap at the shore behind you, the scent of artificial strawberry twining with the sea breeze, making the air salty sweet.

It’s nice. Despite being out in the open, something about it feels intimate; cozy, almost, scene backlit by a strawberry moon, stained pink with the glow of the sun emanating from just beyond the horizon—a hazy cloud that shimmers gold and magenta, it’s brilliance reflected on the gently wavering water. 

“The moon looks like a strawberry,” you sigh out dreamily, arms tightening around Tomura’s waist as you hug yourself closer, a leg hitched over his hip.

“Strawberries seem to be a theme lately,” Tomura murmurs as bony fingers pick at the wax paper enveloping a piece of salt water taffy—strawberry, his second favourite, since they were out of watermelon—voice vibrating against your ear. “Maybe it’s a sign.” 

“A sign? A sign of what?”

“That we should go strawberry picking,” he shrugs, popping the pink candy in his mouth and speaking around it, hard taffy clacking against his teeth. 

“Really?” your head lifts from off his chest to peer up at him. 

“Sure, why not?” 

“Maybe we can bake something with them after.” 

“Me? Bake?” he snorts, like the concept is downright preposterous. “Baby, I don’t even know how to use the fucking oven.” 

“Alright, maybe Kurogiri can bake us something,” you revise. 

A hum of contemplation vibrates on his tongue, soft and melty. “Yeah, maybe that’d be nice.” 

You do, in fact, go strawberry picking during the next week, at a family owned and operated farm your father used to take you to when you were a child. 

It’s a beautiful June day, deep blue sky embroidered with puffs of white cotton as the sun’s rays play between them. You and Tomura spend an absurd amount of time inside the little market at the front of the farm, diligently picking through all of the sweets—homemade fudge and freshly baked cookies and maple sugar candies—leaving the small shop with armfuls of treats, to fuel your berry picking expeditions, he reasons. 

And, really, who are you to say otherwise? Daddy knows best, so what Daddy says goes, always. 

It’s romantic in a sense, the ten minute wagon ride spent sharing a block of double chocolate caramel swirl fudge between the two of you, taking turns eating pieces from each other’s fingers, the hot June sun leaving thick smudges of it on your fingertips. 

Tomura’s hand cuffs your wrist just as the final piece of fudge is melting on your tongue, bringing your fingers to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your index, slowly sucking the remnants of chocolate and caramel from it, and each and every one after it, mouth puckering and cheeks hollowing as his tongue curls in a wet embrace around the digits.

By the time he’s finished licking your hand clean your fingers glitter with a syrupy slave of saliva, spit tinged brown from the cocoa, viscous drops of it rolling down your palms to settle in the lines. 

“Your turn,” he says with a cheeky smirk, holding his large hand out to you, fingers caked with soft fudge wiggling a little in enticement.

And you, good little girl that you are, wrap two hands around his wrist, steadying his hand before taking his index finger down your throat, mouth clamping over it with dedicated earnest and sucking hard. Your tongue wreathes around it, slurping the fudgy residue clean from his skin and swallowing, the sudden constricting of your throat pulling a soft little sound from deep within his chest, unblinking eyes staring at him with such pure devotion it almost hurts. 

But Tomura isn’t looking into your eyes, his own eyes gaping at your lips, shiny and slicked with spit, watching the way your lips swell with each bony knuckle that passes through them as you slowly pull off his finger.

You do the same for every other one, too—middle, ring, pinky, thumb—and by the end of it he’s exhaling little pants through slightly parted lips, glazed eyes fixated on your mouth, cock half hard and twitching pathetically in his jeans.

That’s when it starts.

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no.

Because why would it, with you? Because when does it ever, with you?

You aren’t even modest with it, legs kept straight as you bend, back perpendicular to the muddy ground and ass stuck out, to pick through one of the strawberry bushes, the hem of your cute little dress hitching with the motion, material fluttering in the perpetual soft breeze and gifting Tomura with glimpses of the pink silk clinging to your cheeks beneath.

No, there’s nothing modest about the way you look at him as you bite into a particularly large, particularly juicy strawberry, eyes glinting in the late afternoon sun and lips shimmering, glossed with strawberry juice that collects in the corners of your mouth and runs down your chin in glistening drops to drip onto your cleavage, gathering in the divots and streaking your skin with glimmering pink trails, mouth curling into a playful little smirk, giggles sticking in your throat.

Nor is there anything modest about the way your strawberry-soaked tongue keeps stealing little kitten licks, laving over the self-inflicted scars crisscrossing on Tomura’s neck with hot, strawberry-steeped breath, traces of the sweet scent clinging to his skin, tickling his nose and watering his mouth.

God, he’s too fucking easy.

God, he fucking loves you.

Really, he should punish you; that’s what any good Daddy would do, would drag your bratty little ass from the strawberry fields without bringing a single berry home, wicker basket spilling its crimson guts on the dirt floor as a large hand encircles your wrist and yanks, hard, hard enough to have you yelping, hard enough to have you stumbling over your own ankles, and reprimand you for such tasteless, disgraceful behaviour. 

And he will. 

But he lets you have your fun first, lets you romp and frolic through the bushy green fields as you give him little teases and tastes—because he loves it, too—mentally tallying up your punishments with playful growls in his chest and a predatory grin spread across his cheeks.

It’s the sweetest torture—literally and figuratively—and by the time the sun is setting and your wicker baskets are overflowing with ruby berries, he’s nearly about to crawl out of his sugar-stained skin. 

“You are fucking unbelievable,” Tomura’s muttering into your neck as you await the wagon to take you back to the entrance, arms twined tightly around your waist with his chin resting on your shoulder, his hips subtly rutting against you, hard cock grinding against your ass.

“Hey, you started it,” you’re giggling, pushing back against him and reveling in the muted groan it pulls from his throat.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna finish it, too, you little brat.”

And finish it, he does.

Because at the end, after all of your teasing, your strawberry stained lips and strawberry-tinged kisses with strawberry flesh in your teeth, Daddy finally takes what’s rightfully his, on the side of some dilapidated, seldomly used country backroad, in his pretty candy apple red Maybach. 

And he finishes with his cock shoved in that pretty mouth of yours, thick cum spilling down your throat, it’s bitter mixing with the strawberry’s sweet, creating an intoxicating concoction. 

He stuffs your mouth full of it, so much so that it collects in crevices of your cheeks and the creases beneath your tongue, so much so that when he pulls his cock from your lips, after you’ve swallowed several times, there’s still thick cords of ivory, webbed and viscous, connecting your tongue to his cock. 

Cum dribbles from the corners of your lips in the prettiest pale pink, dyed by your strawberry infused spit. His thumb swipes through it messily, smearing it across your chin in a stroke of glistening cream, and pushes the substance collected on the pad of his finger back into your diligent mouth, lips closing around it automatically, dutifully, and sucking it back into their heat, tongue curling around the stout digit to sop up any remnants of cum it can, licking it clean. 

“Such a good girl for Daddy,” he murmurs, repeating the action again, eyes dark and blown with a morbid fascination as he watches you eat. “Maybe we should go fruit picking more often, huh?” 

If it ends like this, you’re drooling out, gazing up at him so dreamily, so devotedly, you’ll do anything. 

[nyxhaven]

A Knights Honor pt. 2 (au gale x gn tav)

Tav, grapples with the lingering thoughts of a memorable evening spent with Gale, who resides as heir to blackstaff tower in Waterdeep. Tasked with protecting Gale and ensuring his safety during a market visit, Tav encounters a mysterious figure and demonstrates unwavering dedication to their duty. As the day unfolds, Tav and Gale share moments of connection, forging a unique bond while enjoying the beauty of the city and its surroundings, leading to a tender moment.

banner photo credit: @danyadekarios

part one: a knights honor part 1

~~~

The following morning, you awoke with little sleep, your mind plagued by restless thoughts of the previous night's encounter with the person who lay in his bed just a few levels higher in the tower. You couldn't help but wonder if it had meant as much to Gale as it did to you. The memory of the subtle hints from the evening replayed in your mind - the scent of garlic in the food, the softly lit candles that had illuminated his features, and that exquisite wine. You just couldn't get the taste of it out of your mind.

The sun rose once again, and you hurriedly donned a fresh set of underclothes before making your way to the small mess kitchen for the soldiers. They had cleared out some students to accommodate you and your crew. After a light breakfast, you finished putting on your armor, securing your blades, and pushing your hair away from your face. You noticed in a nearby bucket of water that you were overdue for a shave.

Rotating the guards for the morning shift went smoothly, and you decided to start your day by checking in with Gale for the morning itinerary. You knocked on his door, but it swung open almost immediately, revealing a small cat with wings. You remembered Gale mentioning his tressym, Tara.

"Ah, Tara, correct?" you inquired, crouching down to her level. Her beautiful coat glistened as she sat, chest puffed up with pride. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Tav, Gale's newly appointed knight."

"Yes, I am," Tara replied. "Trust me, I've already heard all about you. Follow me. Gale is upstairs changing his clothes again. That ring Miss Safar gave you allows you to open any door granted access by Gale or her. No need to knock anymore; you are his guard, and there's no need for that when there's an intruder."

Tara led you into the main front room, which was still set up just as it had been the night before, with the scent of dinner still lingering in the air. It was clear that the memory of the evening had left a lasting impression.

Gale's voice rang out from the stairs, "Ahh, good morning to be alive," and he descended wearing a cream leather robe adorned with silver and brown embroidery. "Now that I have you to protect me, I need a restock on supplies for the tower's research. Those apprentices never know how to get the good stuff."

A blush crept onto your face as you admired Gale's appearance, almost like a prince. You struggled to focus as you spoke, "That sounds wonderful, a nice getaway from the tower, I'm sure. By the way, I like your robe today, Gale... just Gale."

Gale's stubble had returned, and you mentally chided yourself for your momentary lapse. "Wonderful. Now, I know I asked yesterday, but will you join me for coffee or tea today? I'm going to keep asking until you say yes, I hope you know."

You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, a small coffee with just a little sugar. But not for too long; we should leave soon before the markets become too crowded."

"Of course, I'd never dream of making you wait," Gale said as he prepared coffee, adding a scoop of sugar, and passing it to you. "Thank you, Gale. It smells wonderful," you said after taking a sip. The coffee was rich and full-bodied, leaving a lingering acidity on the back of your tongue.

As you sipped the coffee, you and Gale exchanged glances and conversation, but a tension simmered between you. You pet Tara, which brought a smile to Gale's face.

"Right, well, we best get going. Tara, you're in charge of the tower while we're gone. I trust you," Gale instructed.

You followed Gale out the door and across the bridge, finding it difficult to tear your gaze away from his swaying hips and his gentlemanly manner. Perhaps being his knight wasn't so bad, you thought, imagining yourself as his royal counterpart. You found a focal point on the wall and took a deep breath to regain your composure.

You reached the markets, a bustling street lined with numerous vendors offering a wide array of goods. Gale made his way toward a table piled high with barrels filled with various magical components for his spells. You observed as he selected the best items, filling small bags and handing them to you to hold in your bag of holding, which had been generously provided by the tower.

Time passed as you watched Gale engage with the vendors, discussing the origins and uses of different items. You picked up extra parchment, ink, quills, and even some treats for Tara. After about an hour, Gale selected his final items, including fresh apples and bread for snacking while he conducted his research in the library.

Suddenly, you noticed a commotion in the crowd, and when you turned to investigate, a flash of a black hood darted through the bustling market before disappearing from view. Gale, preoccupied with choosing between Granny Smith and Gala apples, didn't notice.

You then heard a small stone being kicked at your feet, yet no one was nearby. Instinctively, you grabbed Gale and pulled him close, causing a stack of apples to tumble to the ground. Amid the clamor, a figure appeared, unconscious. It appeared to be the same drow who had been in Vajra's office the day before. The drow bore a Zhent tattoo, which had been concealed by a minor illusion during the previous encounter. You immediately alerted other city patrol guards, and they took the drow into custody for sentencing in the lower city.

You spent the better part of an hour assisting in cleaning up the debris and gathering the fallen apples. The grateful vendor offered you a generous sum of money for your help, but you declined, citing your duty to protect the city.

Walking back to Gale, you noticed his flustered and slightly panicked demeanor. You could tell that the recent events had shaken him. "Gale, this is my job, what I'm trained to do. I want to protect you. You needn't worry about protecting yourself. I'm here because Vajra called for us to ensure you can go to the markets without fear of attack and study your tomes without anxiety. I'll be in the room, watching your side."

You tried to reassure him, and his mood seemed to brighten a bit. "I saw a beautiful wine bar a few streets down. My treat," you suggested.

Gale couldn't resist the temptation of a nice glass of wine. You followed closely in his shadow down the street, navigating a bustling alley filled with tables and people enjoying their lunch. The yellow awning of the wine bar stood out, and Gale held the door open for you, as he always did.

Inside, the crowded bar proved a challenge to navigate. Holding onto Gale's waist, you carefully maneuvered your way through the patrons. Gale's waist felt slender in your hands, only to broaden into his strong shoulders. Squeezing slightly, you felt him relax, knowing that you were keeping him safe.

The bar was packed with patrons, but you managed to find an empty spot at the end of the counter to get the barkeep's attention.

"TAV!" a voice called from down the bar. A friendly lavender tiefling made her way over to you. "Bloody bastard, I haven't seen you in a while. What brings you here tonight?"

Gale looked at you in surprise, realizing you had frequented this place before.

"Well, it's quite the story," you began, and gesturing toward Gale. "I've been assigned as the lead knight at Blackstaff Tower in the Castle Ward. This is my dear friend Gale, and I'm here to watch his back."

Nyx smiled and extended her hand to Gale. "You flatter me, Tav. Nice to meet you, Gale. What can I get you to drink today?"

Gale responded, "The pleasure is mine. I'll have a nice, dry red wine, please."

Nyx vanished behind the bar, returning with a glass of deep red wine for Gale and a glass of grape juice for you.

"Wine for the Gale of Waterdeep and grape juice for the City Watch," Nyx announced.

"Thanks, my darling," you said as you took your glass of juice. Gale seemed slightly disappointed.

"Juice? You aren't drinking with me?" he exclaimed. "I thought you invited me here for a nice drink."

You chuckled and winked at him, saying, "This is a nice drink, but I'm on the job, silly."

You and Gale spent an hour or two chatting and enjoying each other's company. Eventually, you decided it was time to head back to the tower. Walking up the main road, Gale had an idea.

"Trust me on this," he said, "I know a scenic route back to the tower. If you trust me, follow my lead."

You followed him out of the east gate, and you walked along the large walls surrounding the main city, leading to a vast grassy field on the other side. A small foot trail took you both to a hill covered in tall grass, crowned by a magnificent willow tree. Gale walked you up the hill, periodically checking to ensure you were still following.

At the hill's summit, you were treated to a breathtaking view of the surrounding fields, cliffs descending to the ocean, and Waterdeep in the distance. Gale snaps and using some magic he spread out a blanket beneath the willow tree and invited you to sit. You settled against the tree, placing your blades and bag beside you.

As you admired the serene landscape, Gale seemed a bit distracted. You reassured him, saying, "Gale, don't beat yourself up. It's okay. Even if you were watching the crowd, you wouldn't have seen him. Would you read to me for a bit?" You handed him a book from the market. He takes the book, drags his finger down the spine, and he began reading about the history of evocation studies.

Time passed as you listened to the bravado of his voice, and he finished a chapter, setting the book down. Turning to you, he had a look of desire, yearning, and devotion. He moved to lie down beside you, resting his head on his hand. Using his other hand, Gale began tracing circles on your chest, his touch cool against the warmth of your armor.

"Is this...okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

You nodded slowly, your breath catching as his fingertips followed the grooves and patterns on your armor. His finger follows the knicks, and dings made from battle. The steel is cold to gales touch. He lays his full palm onto your plate, looking up wondering your thoughts, he chews on his bottom lip. A look in his eyes wonders if this is what you want. Following his intentions you plac you knee out, opening your inner thigh, exposing the one part of your body not covered in the cold hard metal protecting yourself. 

Gales hand leads its way down your chest, and stomach grazing to the warm leather of your inner thigh. Hes fingers lazily trace the straps, drawing circles, his fringers slowly gravitate to the warmth of your body. His full palm wraps across you, he looks up to meet your eyes again. As the civil twilight bathed the two of you in its soft light, a salty sea breeze mixed with the natural vanilla and mint scent from Gale. He leans in to kiss you, and for a moment, you hesitated. But then you leaned into the kiss, cupping his head with your hand and deepening the connection. You wrap your leg over him straddling him, pushing him onto his back. His teeth bite your bottom lip, pulling your eyes open to his eyes you notice his eyes brown color, the color of healthy soil in the summer, the same color as the coffee he made you this morning.

Your duties as a guard suddenly came to mind. The changing of the guard was approaching.

Rolling off Gale, you adjusted your armor and gathered your belongings. "It's getting dark, and we've been away for most of the day. We should return for dinner, and I need to change my shift. I want to get out of this armor and have a drink," you said with a smirk, fixing your disheveled hair.

Gale nodded and wiped his lips, the blanket disappearing as you both began the quiet walk back to the tower. You followed the rhythm of Gale's steps, enjoying the sight of his swaying hips 

When you reached the entrance of gales tower, Gale turned to you with desire in his voice.

 "Tav, can I kiss you?"

You replied with a simple, "I would love that."

Gale's soft lips met yours, and the moment was electric. As the kiss ended, he whispered, "Thank you for tonight. I'll see you in the morning, starshine."

[joansdidions]

apple cider.

0.6k words

10 large apples, quartered

a large bag of apples sit on the kitchen counter. crimson red, the colour of fall, freshly picked from the farmers' market. ross cuts the apples steadily in the kitchen. neat. clean. it's the only task you gave him so he goes above and beyond. each piece of apple is similar in size to the next.

1 orange, halved

now the scent of fresh citrus fills the kitchen. the last remnants of summer. the smell of oranges linger on your fingers and you dream of sweet kisses with ross. rolling around in crisp bed sheets and freshly squeezed orange juice in the middle of a hot summer day. you wipe the bead of sweat that trickles down his forehead in the beaming sunlight. he smiles under your touch and holds your hands to his lips. the scent of citrus fills his nose.

spices : 4 cinnamon sticks, 1 tsp. whole cloves, 1 tsp. whole allspice, 1 whole nutmeg

the beginning of fall smells of cinnamon and auburn leaves falling to the ground. its the smell of rain and the feeling of stepping on falling leaves. the world is silent in the fall. the season of gentle decay, you suppose. but then, fall also means the warmth of spices. the ones that warm your stomach, a new kind of content that nothing else can beat. gentle, warming, the spices flood your home. you think it can't get better than this. and your sous chef comes and envelopes you in a hug. you think this could be a contender for the feeling spices make you feel. no matter the season, ross smells just right. he smells like everything and nothing all at once. your mind empties itself of all words, leaving one behind. and so you have no choice but to describe his scent as home. it goes beyond that, you tell yourself but you've yet to find the right words to encapsulate how he makes you feel.

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

sugar, spice and everything nice. fall is for freshly baked cookies. the ones ross could devour in one sitting. he accuses you of adding some form of drug to keep him addicted and you laugh at the incredulity of his words. the gentle giant sits across from you with crumbs on his face and chocolate smeared across his lip.it’s a sight to behold, really. the “manly man” looking like a child, a boy, your boy.

serve apple cider warm

the smell of spiced apples fill your nose and both of you share a look that says the apple cider is ready. you rush to taste your new elixir. the spoonful of golden liquid meets your lips and marks the beginning of fall. you close your eyes for a moment and let the liquid slide down your throat. gold. it tastes like gold. and like a cliché from your favourite romantic comedy, a drop of apple cider falls from the corner of your mouth. ross, always staring at you with adoring eyes, is quick. his thumb meets the corner of your mouth. he wipes the cider away and his thumb lingers. fall is quiet. the kitchen stills. and he takes the chance to kiss you, stealing a cheeky taste of your shared creation. you look up at him and you watch his eyes crinkle at the corners. a slight tinge of red blooms on his cheeks. he leans in to kiss you again, fingers gently grazing your jaw. you taste of cinnamon and sugar and everything good in his life. your lips taste of the most intoxicating apple cider. fall can finally begin.

[prommethium]

He said that he was craving Aztec soup.

Because he is my dad, of course I made it!!

Now, I'm sharing just because I'm saving MY recipe here and for the ones who would like to eat some decent fucking Mexican food.

INGREDIENTS FOR THE 3 LITERS OF SOUP. 

6 big tomatoes

4 garlic cloves

1 big ass onion

2 chiles guajillo (dried mirasol)

2 chiles de guisar/ancho (dried Capsicum annuum)

120g of chile chipotle 

1 chicken leg (or just a chicken bone... any bone)

2 chicken breast

carrots to taste

potatoes to taste

Cucurbita to taste (that green veggie)

2 Avocados

Fresh cheese to taste (when I mean fresh, I mean; go and buy it from your local market, not the shit that has probably 6 months in a fridge, this needs a cheese that breaks once you slightly press it between your fingers) if you can't get it, use mozzarella.

15 tortillas (please use tortillas made of CORN, but if you don't have them... well then the dish you will prepare can't be called "Aztec," but hey, you have my permission to use bread or even those shitty nachos BUT YOU CAN'T USE DORITOS... or I'm personally chasing you over and murdering you.)  

Spices

METODOLOGY!!

1) Bring half a liter of water to boil, turn the energy down (fire or ignition WHATEVER!), and add there the dried chilis (this will help them soften.) Leave them to rest. (just look how sad they look and how happy they turn after a nice hot bath 🥺✨ if you are weak and can't tolerate spicy food take away the seeds and the little veins, Omacatl is going to curse you without friends bc of your puny palate.)

2) In a pot, add 2 liters of water, add salt to taste, and put there the chicken; (as it cooks, take away all the foam.) Cook medium-high heat for 35 min.  

3) Cut the tomatoes and the onion into big chunks, and peel the garlic cloves (do it with your fingers pretend they are the eyes of your enemies and release some anger.) 

4) in a very hot comal (or if you are basic, in a nonstick pan,) put your tomatoes and onion to cook, DO NOT USE OIL!! just let them cook on a hot surface.

k: omg!! they look burnt!! are you sure is that the right way???

c: STFU YOU WEAK HUMAN, THEY NEED TO LOOK LIKE THIS if they don't look like this you are doing it wrong; if you don't do it like this the nearest Mexican human corpse is going to haunt you down.

5) Take away the chicken from the broth, and put it in a bowl.

6) Take away from the jacuzzi those dried chilis and put them on the mixer, add the cloves of garlic, tomatoes, and onion you just cooked, the 120g of chipotle chilis, and now my fellas, dear colonizers reading this, pay attention, this is crutial THIS IS WHAT MAKES IT TASTE GOOD:

add a pinch of: 

salt, black pepper, cinnamon, powder of cilantro seeds, brown sugar, thyme, AND 3 PINCHES OF DELICIOUS GLORIOUS CARAWAY. Add a liter of water and mix it well, once looks as homogeneous as it can be, pour it into the chicken broth.

Just look at how pretty that looks!!! That looks like decent food, that looks like something my ancestors would be proud of!!! *honestly I got some tears after tasting this, ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS!!!*

7) Use any method you like to make eatable those chunks of meat, I like to separate the meat with my hands.

8) Add the meat again to the chili-spicy/broth and add the minced veggies 

9) cook for 40 min, low heat.

10) Mince the coriander

11) If you are a cool decent human cut the tortillas into small rectangles and fry them until they are hard 🔥😏 2 to 3 tortillas per serving. If you are not cool use your shameful nachos. 

12) TIME TO FUCKING SERVE AND TASTE THE FRUIT OF YOUR 3 HOURS OF WORK!! 

In a bowl, serve the meat and veggies, add some chili broth, put in the center your tortillas, around the tortillas the cheese, on top the minced coriander, and decorate with slices of avocado. 

now that is decent food 😌🔥 you are very welcome.

[slashersteve]

ii. fall

part two to confetti ✦ previous part ✦ series masterlist ✦ archive link

pairing: Single Dad!Steve Harrington/Female Reader

summary: Autumn was your favorite season, and spending it in Hawkins made you enjoy it even more when you spend most of it with Steve and Cassie.

warnings/extra tags: cursing, girl dad steve, fluffy, fall activities ive had to study because im a clown, moms are still in love with steve, its literally just steve and reader being all heart eyes for any little thing fall edition, mentions of steve's dumb parents, steve is a good daddy, surprise character appearance, beta read, edited by me so that's fun

note: I think this is the longest part because I love fall and wanted to put everything in it akljslkajsa thanks for waiting, and enjoy more Steve and Cassie ♥️

✦✦✦

October’s first school event would be the annual bake sale. You learned it was a long lasting tradition of the schools, and that it was an event that helped fund a lot of the winter activities for Hawkins Elementary, and maybe even some field trips for the following year, depending on how successful it was.

Now though, you were free from studying, and made your own money, and you were going to make at least something.  

“I usually just keep it simple like cookies or something,” Heidi told you during your shared lunch break, “The baker on main street comes, and trust me, he goes all out and gets the highest sales.” 

“Is it a competition?” you questioned as you ate your homemade sandwich and flipped through a magazine that was always left in the office lounge. Heidi chuckled into her salad. 

“No, no,” she said, “Between you and me, he’s a bit of a show off when it comes to it, which makes sense because he’s good at what he does, right?” 

You honestly couldn’t say you’ve visited the baker’s yet, you didn’t even know his name, so who were you to say if his baked goods were actually good or not. 

“Anyway, cookies are the easiest way to go, brownies are also simple, cupcakes and muffins are a little more complicated but it’s not a whole cake at least, right?” Heidi chuckled to herself, and it made you chuckle too because of how glad she was that the office wasn't doing a cake walk, “I guess it depends on how good of a baker you are, but like I said, our baker goes above and beyond so it doesn’t really matter.” 

You hummed with interest before your eyes settled back onto the magazine, catching a photo of some delicious looking cookies covered in light brown sugar. They were apple cinnamon sugar cookies, according to the recipe title, and Heidi saw your eyes peak with interest and she leaned over to look at them too. 

“Oh those would be good, you should make those,” Heidi told you with a nod, “I can taste them already.” 

So, you found yourself at the grocery market right after your work day ended, a basket in one hand and the recipe you cut out of the magazine with a pair of scissors from your desk in the other as you scoured the market for the proper ingredients.

All purpose flour. Check. Cinnamon. Check. Baking soda. Check.

There was still more, like the cream of tartar and the actual apples for example as the recipe called for grated apples so ‘there would be pieces of apple in every bite.’

You were looking down at the magazine cutout as you were walking, admittingly not paying much attention to where you were walking or who you were dangerously close to colliding with, not until a familiar voice spoke up. 

“Dee’s mom is going to make a cake,” the high-pitched voice of Cassie Harrington echoed across the aisle, “She said it was going to be like..three cakes on top of each other.”

“What? That doesn’t sound right,” Steve Harrington’s voice replied back to her, and you were stopping in your tracks and looking up to see the back of Steve’s head as he was leaning over a shopping cart to look at his daughter. She was holding onto the side of the cart while she carried three cake mixes in one arm, just barely as one looked like it was slipping from her grasp. 

“That’s what Dee told me, so we need to make a cake too,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. 

You just sort of stood there, feeling a bit of anxiety flush through you because you hadn’t seen nor talked to Steve since Back to School Night a few weeks prior…you never received a phone call from him, but to be fair, you hadn’t called him either. 

You felt a bit guilty for not calling him, having been so busy yourself.

“Cass, they’re making a cake because they’re part of the cake-walk though, and we’re not,” Steve tried to explain to her, but she wasn’t having it, wanting to bake a cake rather than just bringing store bought cookies, some of which were currently resting in the cart on top of other groceries. 

“But you didn’t make these cookies,” Cassie pouted, turning to look at her dad. It was then that Cassie had seen you, her eyes landing on yours until she recognized you before they flickered down to the basket you were holding. 

She was suddenly pointing at you, and you took a step back quickly to put some space between you and her dad as she said, “Look! She’s baking something!”

Steve was turning his head, his brows furrowed in confusion before his eyes too landed on you. He blinked a couple of times at the sight of you, and you offered a smile as you said, “So, you’re going for store-bought cookies?” 

After a second or two, you watched Steve laugh breathlessly and nod, “Yeah. I’m not much of a baker, to be honest. Never have been.” 

“But you made us those other cookies last time,” Cassie cut in, and Steve looked down at her. 

“Those were pre-made, all I had to do was pop them in the oven,” Steve reminded her, and she huffed, still hugging the cake mix boxes to herself as she looked back at you. Her eyes grew curious then, and she asked you what it was you were baking. 

You held up the magazine cut-out, amused by the fact that Cassie was desperately trying to make her dad make literally anything homemade for this bakesale. 

“Something called apple cinnamon sugar cookies, bit of a mouthful,” you told her, holding out the cutout to show her. She leaned in a bit, examining it until her eyes lit up and she hummed as she practically melted on the spot at the sight of the cookies. Steve leaned over to look at it too.

“God, those do look really good,” he said quietly to himself, making you smile as you dropped your hand back to side just as Cassie turned to look at her dad and say, “We can make that too! Please! The stuff is all there!” 

She gestured to your hand that held the cutout, and you waved it in Steve’s face. He scoffed at you, though it was more out of amusement than anything else before he took it from you to actually look at the recipe itself. 

Cassie was giddy standing beside the cart, hugging the boxes of cake-mix tighter to herself as she awaited for her dad to finish reading through the recipe. His features contorted slightly and he said, “What the hell is a cream of tartar?”

This made you laugh, and you said, “My thoughts exactly, I was actually just looking for it.” 

His contorted expression vanished as he laughed too, and held the cut-out for you to take back, and looked at his daughter with an apologetic look,  “I want to say that seems easy enough, but…god I just don’t think I have the time to actually make these.”

Her face fell, and it was probably the saddest you’ve ever seen Cassie Harrington who was always so smiley and had half of an attitude whenever she came around the office still to give you food she didn’t want. 

“But…but she could help us,” Cassie said, now turning that sad look of hers toward you. It made you pause, not remembering the last time a kid has ever tried the ‘sad puppy dog’ look on you. The kids you used to babysit all the time did it with you whenever they wanted to stay up later or have another sweet. You’d grown immune to that, but there was something about Cassie specifically looking like that that made you feel bad…like she probably wanted you to. 

Steve gave Cassie a raised brow and said, “Don’t give her that look.” 

Her eyes turned into a small glare, pointing to her dad and he gave her one back until it became a staring contest between the two. You just sort of stood there, looking between them now with a half-curious and half-amused expression as they just stared at each other and you could tell this was something that happened often between the two. 

Steve’s eyes squinted, then so did Cassie’s, and she even tilted her head upwards as if to show him she wasn’t going to back down. Steve’s look then turned pointed, and her jaw tightened, and he raised both brows and then Cassie was letting out a defeated breath. 

“Fine, we’ll use…those dumb cookies,” she said, muttering the last part toward the storebought cookies in the cart. She then turned away to set the cake mix boxes back onto the shelf, still finding it in her to be polite enough to do so. 

Steve turned toward you with a sigh, “Sorry about that.” 

You met his brown eyes then, and shook your head as you said, “Don’t apologize…you know though…if you need help I can help.” 

You made sure to say that low enough so that Cassie couldn’t hear and you noticed Steve’s demeanor grew slightly soft at your offer, his eyes flickering downward for a moment before he pursed his lips together and shook his head. 

“No, no it’s alright,” he replied, resting a hand back on the handle of the shopping cart, “She’ll live, I’ll just make her breakfast for dinner tonight.” 

“Breakfast for dinner?” 

He nodded, “Yeah, baking? No way. And I don’t mean to brag, but I can make a pretty good pancake.” 

That made you smile for some reason, feeling like you were learning more and more about Steve Harrington despite the fact you too only really talked in moments like this where you just so happened to run into each other. 

“I love pancakes,” you said, then felt a little silly even saying that as he didn’t need to know that, but he was smirking softly as he leaned onto the cart slightly and replied to you, “Maybe one day I can make you some.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, the tone he said it in being borderline flirtatious but you didn’t want to look too much into that, rather just laughing and started to step backwards to make your leave so that you could finish finding the right items and he could finish his grocery shopping with Cass. 

“I look forward to whenever that happens then,” you stated, “I’ll let you guys finish your grocery trip…” You gestured to the both of them, but Cassie was suddenly returning to herself. 

“Wait!” she said, “Can I help you find the rest of the stuff? Daddy, can I help her?” 

She asked the both of you at once, hope returning to her eyes, and Steve seemed unsure, not because of you though but in case Cass tried to get you to buy her something because she’s done it before with Mrs. K and Karen Wheeler before, coming back to him with a candy he told her she didn’t need. 

“Uh, I just need to find this cream of tartar, and some apples,” you said as you looked at the cutout quickly. That’s when Cassie suddenly got another idea the moment you said apples. 

“Oh! Does that mean you’re going apple picking?”

You tilted your head at the mention of that…apple picking. It was pretty self-explanatory, but the idea of it had never really crossed your mind. 

“I…no I was just going to buy them here,” you replied to her, not knowing that there was even an apple picking event here in Hawkins anyway. Cassie looked suddenly disgusted, and when you looked at Steve, so did he. You blinked at them, and asked them what was wrong with buying apples here, growing slightly amused again at how their expressions matched exactly. 

“Is there something like…wrong with them here?” you questioned them both. 

“Not exactly, but the apples from the apple farm a town over are way better, trust me,” Steve told you, “They have this apple picking event every fall, you pay for however many baskets you want, and then you…you know pick apples and take them home.” 

“Yeah, we’re going tomorrow!” Cassie cut in again excitedly, before she grabbed her dad’s arm and said, “She can come with us!”

Steve was looking at Cassie again, a slight flush over his cheeks as he told her she had to stop trying to tell people to go places with them without asking them first because she can make someone uncomfortable real quick, and Cassie looked absolutely done with her dad’s attitude in this store. 

Then he turned to you again, brown eyes finding yours as he asked, “Have you been apple-picking before?”

“No,” you replied after giving it little thought, “Not many apple farms in the city, you know, unless you want to drive a couple hours out…store-bought apples were definitely closer and less of a hassle.”

“Ah, right, you’re from the city,” Steve pointed at you, “I mean…if you would like to go with us, or you know just be there at the same time, that’ll be totally okay. Plus, I think it’s an experience everyone should have at least once.”

A small grin was returning to your face, knowing that Steve was inviting you properly for Cass, who looked up at you with wide eyes that matched Steve’s almost identically.

“I…I would actually love to go,” you said genuinely, watching as Steve’s eyes lit up like Cassie’s might, “I mean, you said it’s something I should experience at least once, so…yeah…yeah I’ll go.”

“Great!” Steve blurted out before his cheeks grew flushed, and Cassie was giddy again, “You want to meet there, I can give you the directions?” 

“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there, just…call me tonight to tell me more details, maybe?” you said, working that in almost professionally. At the mention of calling, Steve’s cheeks became even more flushed because like you when he had seen you he felt guilty that he’d forgotten to call you as well, having been, per usual, very busy with Cass and his three different jobs. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said, and you smiled with a content nod. 

“Good,” you said, “I look forward to it then, I’m gonna go and find that cream of tartar now and I’ll see you two tomorrow?” 

Both of them nodded, and you both said a final see you later before you were stepping backwards, leaving one last longing stare at Steve Harrington before turning around with a large smile on your lips, looking forward to apple picking with the both of them. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The apple orchards were just simply beautiful to you as you sat on the tractor that took you and the other apple pickers in your group around the entire farm before they would stop at the orchards and allow time for you and everyone else to fill up your baskets. 

“We have to get all the red ones,” Cassie Harrington was sitting beside you, the basket she had looked comically big in her lap compared to the same basket that was sitting in yours. 

“There’s a lot of those ones, I don’t think they’re going to run out,” you replied to her as you looked out into the distance at the rows and rows of apple trees. 

It was a nice day, clear skies and a light wind that felt nice against your skin every time a breeze passed by. 

Beside Cassie was Steve, and he wasn’t looking at the orchards like you and Cassie were, but he was looking at… well you. The sun shined down on you in a very specific way, and it made the color of your eyes more visible. His chest sort of tightened and he had to carefully release a soft hitch of his breath. 

He would admit to himself that he had been nervous when he called you the night before, using a quick break in order to do so from the phone in the employee lounge at the market he worked the night shift at. He knew it was late, but he also knew you were expecting that call.

You had sounded very sleepy on the phone, but there wasn’t an ounce of irritation in your voice either which surprised Steve because of the hour, like you were looking forward to the call…like you might’ve been looking forward to a call since you’ve exchanged numbers. He beat himself up for a moment or two, wishing he didn’t do that to you, but knowing that it was really something he couldn’t help. 

“You do this every year?” you asked Cassie, tearing Steve from his thoughts. He looked at his daughter now, her hair in two braids that he had done just before they got on the tractor because she changed her mind about the pony tail and clips she had him style her hair in that morning���clips that were currently in the pocket of his jacket. 

“Only last year,” Cassie replied to you, “My daddy barely discovered it last year through my friend Delilah and her mom.” 

You were nodding along to Cassie, and not in the way people typically nodded along to children when they spoke to them, you actually seemed genuinely interested in holding this conversation with her and it made Steve feel slightly warm. 

“Sounds like it could be a nice tradition though,” you said with a small smile as you looked back to the orchards. Cassie was nodding. 

“Yeah, I like it! The apples are super good, so that means your cookies are going to be super good too!” she claimed, which made you chuckle in response. 

“I hope you’re right, like your dad here, I’m actually not the best baker,” you admitted, your eyes finding Steve’s that were already on yours. He blinked softly, realizing he’s been mentioned as you chuckled again and said, “But I’m willing to try, especially if these are as good as you say they are.” 

“They are,” Cassie said confidently, grasping the basket between her hands just as the tractor came to a stop. Steve knew what she was going to do and caught her hand before she could hop off and start running like it was some kind of competition of who could pick the most apples. 

“Hey! Hey! Let’s help her pick some before you go getting into a fight with another kid for an apple you want,” Steve told her, and she was starting to nod in agreement with him and even apologized before all three of you got off together. 

Cassie held the basket in one hand now while the other was in her dad’s, and you trailed beside them holding your own as you gazed at all the apples, wondering if there was some kind of trick to finding the best ones. 

Some of the trees were taller than the others, so they had ladders, and others were small enough so that a kid like Cassie could pick some of her own as well. You did stay together for the most part, Cassie pointing out apples for you to get, and some for Steve to grab that were too high for her. 

After you had a good few, Steve let Cassie run off to find some of her own, leaving just you and him. You wandered over to one of the trees nobody had been picking at, and before Steve knew it you were suddenly on a ladder. 

He stared up at you, feeling this sudden regretful feeling come over him that he’d been feeling since your teasing comment the day prior about him calling you for details.

“Hey so,” Steve started from below you, “I wanted to apologize for not calling you.” 

You were reaching for a particularly large apple that was further into the tree, your fingers just barely grazing it and you were going to reply to Steve when a dramatic gasp had cut you off. 

“You didn’t call her!?” Cassie called, the gasp coming from her.

Steve looked away from you, and toward Cassie who was standing there with a basket half-full of apples. Steve stared at her for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed by her blurting that out, others had looked over, but fortunately you seemed more preoccupied with still getting that giant apple off of the tree.

In fact, you grumbled, going up another step on the ladder, while Steve walked over to Cassie. 

“Are these all the apples you got?” Steve asked, and she shrugged as she looked down at them too, and told him that these kids were more mean this year than last year. It made Steve shake his head, and rest his hands on his hips before she asked him if she could sit down and listen to her music. 

“You’re done already?” he questioned, and she nodded. It was just as well, she did have an early morning today like he did so he told her she could sit in the tractor and listen while he filled the rest of the basket up. She grinned and nodded, already putting the walkman headphones over her ears before running toward the tractor. 

“Uh, Steve-” 

He was turning toward you, seeing you on the top of the ladder and he stared for a moment before realizing you were holding onto the actual tree for dear life. 

“Could you hold me steady?” you asked, turning your head to look back at him and Steve was nodding, quickly walking back toward you as he rolled his sleeves up and went behind you. 

“Uh- where do you want me to hold you?” he asked, not wanting to hold you anywhere that might be inappropriate or uncomfortable for you. You told him to just place his hands on the back of your thighs, and he sucked in a breath before nodding. 

He carefully held you still, feeling the denim of your jeans underneath his palms as you were finally steady enough to lean forward and successfully wrap your hands around the apple you really wanted. 

“Got it!” you said, before you started to climb down. Steve helped you do that too until you were on your feet. You got a bit of vertigo though being on the ground again, your head feeling slightly dizzy that if it hadn’t been for Steve grasping your shoulders you might’ve almost embarrassingly lost your balance. 

When you came to, you were met with the concerned face of Steve, his brown eyes flickering over you to see if you were okay. You held up the apple though and said, “I think I like doing this, it’s pretty fun.”

“I can see that, you worked really hard to get that apple,” Steve commented, eying the apple that was a pretty impressive size, “Damn, no wonder you climbed so high to get that one.”

You clicked your tongue, and said, “I’m having a lot of fun, thanks for inviting me.” 

“Yeah, no problem, Cass is really enjoying you being here too, before she ran off is all,” Steve said, turning his head where Cass was sitting on the tractor with the headphones placed over her ears and her head nodding back and forth to whatever song she was jamming to. 

“Also, you don’t have to apologize for not calling, I mean, I didn’t call you either,” you told him, finally responding to his apology that Steve had accepted went unheard when Cassie interrupted. Steve stared at you for a moment, and let out a quiet breath. 

“Still…I don’t know, as the guy I feel like it’s my obligation to call the girl first,” Steve admitted, as in his experience with women in the past it was always him calling first, whether it’s after a date, a good morning call- things he would do before Cassie came into his life and he stopped everything to be the father she deserved. 

“Well, that would make sense if we were romantically involved, which we aren’t…” you said, hearing your own voice grow a little soft at the idea of it. In fact, you kind of batted your eyelashes at Steve, just slightly, and if he noticed, which he did, he didn’t tease you..

“That’s true…but…to be honest, I probably still wouldn’t have,” Steve said, suddenly cringing at his own behavior that he was acutely aware of, but no matter how guilty he might’ve felt he still hadn’t changed it yet. A smile that mirrored his came onto your lips and you laughed quietly. 

“You know, I’ve never really been a high maintenance friend, Steve,” you said, trying that out instead and Steve looked genuinely surprised by the term. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends, in fact he even had a best friend who wasn’t very high maintenance either since she moved to New York over a year ago, a single phone call every once in a while and visit usually sufficed, but the idea that he found a friend in you, that you even started to consider him as one, made Steve’s brain a little buzzed. 

He guessed he hadn’t made a new friend in a while now, and he was glad that it was you. 

“Huh…I guess we are friends,” Steve said, moreso to himself. Your smile grew wider and you nodded. 

“I would say so,” you replied, then held up your full basket of apples, “And I think that friends should help each other bake cookies for the bake sale on Monday.”

He glanced down at the apples, wondering how you managed to find the biggest ones in the orchard and was impressed all at once. He rested his hands onto his hips, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours and you were giving him an expectant look, like you weren’t going to take no for an answer and Steve honestly liked that. 

Something else brewed up inside of him, something not so warm but rather hot, and he had to cool down by sucking in a tight breath before saying, “Oh, Cass is going to jump for joy.” 

You laughed, that look on your face all but vanishing and being replaced with amusement, and the heat only got stronger. Steve’s eyes lingered onto your lips, longer than the other times he’d been with you, and the foggy part in his brain wondered just what would happen if he just leaned in and kissed you. 

Of course, he wasn’t going to because above all he was still a gentleman and was aware that just because you make a woman laugh doesn’t necessarily mean they want to be snogged, but Steve still wondered how your lips would feel against his. 

It was lucky, then, when Cass was calling out to him and taking his and your attention off of each other before you had more time to notice his slightly heated gaze. His father instinct kicked in almost immediately when he heard Cassie’s cry of distress. 

Steve was turning around, eyes growing concerned and brows pulling inward as his eyes found his daughter dashing toward him with her walkman and headphones in each hand. Tears prickled at the corner of her brown eyes. 

“It’s not playing!” she cried as she got to her dad, “It just stopped! I didn’t do anything!” 

Steve grew slightly relieved that it was just the walkman acting up, as his first thought had been that she was somehow hurt. 

Beside him, you were frowning because of Cassie’s clear distress and sadness over the walkman suddenly breaking on her, as you’ve been there before yourself. She held it up to Steve, her lips quivering and tears fully pouring from her eyes. 

Steve took them from her, eying them for only a moment before sighing, as if he knew one day these things would just break on her. It was an older model, you observed, and Steve all but gave them a quick look over before tossing them into his half full basket of apples on the floor beside his feet and resting his eyes back on his little girl. 

“Hey, don’t cry, alright, these things were old, I’ve had them since I was in high school,” he told Cassie softly. 

“I know, but-but I wanted to listen to music,” Cassie cried, “And now I can’t!”

A sympathetic smile was on Steve’s lips as he knelt down in front of his upset daughter and wiped her tears away with his thumb, “There’s worst things to happen, and these can be replaced, alright?” 

Cassie sniffled, “But how will I listen to my music?”

“Well there’s the radio in the car, the stereo at home…” Steve listed off, “It’ll be okay, I can get you a new one, ones that won’t skip over tracks so that you have to hit it.” 

Cassie’s eyes showed more light in them at the idea of that, “Really?” 

Steve nodded, “Yes, really- but it’s totally okay to cry about it, I think I might cry too. I’ve been through a lot with this guy.” 

Cassie giggled, and Steve’s smile turned warm, happy to make his little girl smile again after mourning the loss of her walkman. Steve kissed her head affectionately and said, “I have good news though, we are going to bake cookies for the bake sale.” 

Her face lit up completely, her cheeks still tear stricken but her eyes were brighter now. 

“We’re going to bake a cake?” Cassie asked, hopeful and Steve winced. 

“No, no! Not a cake, I already told you we don’t have to…I was thinking more like…” Steve looked over at you, and you stared for a second before saying, “Chocolate chip cookies?” 

Steve snapped his finger, “Yeah! We’re going to do that…it’s not a cake, but it’s still baking.” 

Cassie was still excited, nodding up at her dad and saying, “We’re going to bake! Let’s go home and start now!” 

This made Steve laugh, and Cassie was trying to pick up the basket to bring back to the tractor that would take you back to the farm. Meanwhile, Steve looked back at you and you were smiling again, thinking to yourself that no wonder everyone (the mothers of Hawkins really) were so enamored with him. The way he comforted Cass, how soft his voice became…you realized you couldn’t be more attracted to a man.

And now, you are going to have him in your house.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your entire house smelled like a bakery. The smell of cinnamon was strong, mixed with the sweet pleasant scent of chocolate. Music was playing out of the stereo in your living room, music chosen specifically by Cassie Harrington when you told her the day prior that she could listen to anything she decided to bring or anything you had too. 

Steve was standing beside you, wearing a cupcake apron with frills that matched Cassie’s, a pair she chose when she and her dad went to the market the morning of with a list of ingredients you relayed to him over the phone the night before. Your second late night phone call.

Cassie was busy taste testing one cookie from each batch before she’d package them away in these clear bags that had fall leaf designs all over it, complimenting your apple cinnamon cookies after devouring one. She was making you laugh a lot this afternoon, and so was Steve. 

“Okay, okay Cass, you’re going to get a tummy ache,” Steve told his daughter after she ate her fifth chocolate chip cookie. She pouted at him, claiming that she wouldn’t, but Steve wasn’t buying it.

“I’ll set some aside for you, Cassie,” you chimed in as you were grating more apples for yet another batch of your cookies while Steve was stirring chocolate chips into the mixture he was working on in one of your many mixing bowls. 

“But how will we know it’s not poisoned?”

“Cass nobody’s poisoning anything- what- why would you think we’d put poison in these?” Steve asked, practically horrified by his daughter’s choice of words and Cassie sighed and replied, “That’s what Dustin says we have to do! I’m helping!”

Yet again, you were laughing while Steve just stared at his daughter practically dumbfounded before he said, “It’s not poisoned, and I think the mixtape you brought is about to end, so you’ll have to change it.” 

Cassie turned her head, recognizing the final song on it as she listened to it all the time and was going to go change it (or start it over) but not before sneaking another cookie. Steve huffed, turning his attention back to the mixing bowl. 

“So how’s the broken walkman situation?” you asked Steve suddenly. He let out a deep sigh, as if hating to be reminded of that, “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, no- I was honestly waiting for them to just break, I was just hoping it would be closer to Christmas,” he said, wiping his face with the hand that was covered in flour. You glanced at Steve, your eyes instantly going to the flour that was suddenly decorating his cheek. He didn’t seem to notice, too focused on getting the right consistency of the cookie dough…in fact he was actually covered with various stains, on his forehead, his arms, and his neck. Your eyes lingered there for a bit before you forced your eyes back to what you were doing. 

“No back ups? I remember having a back up,” you joked. 

“That was the back-up,” he replied quickly, “It’s alright- she’ll be fine until Christmas…hopefully, honestly I might have to see if Mrs. K has one. Sometimes she has random things for Cass.”

You tilted your head gently, and asked him who Mrs. K was, as you feel like he had mentioned her before. Steve was quiet for a second, as if confused you didn’t know who she was until he remembered you barely moved here in the summer.

“Oh she’s my neighbor, nice older woman, probably the nicest person in this town really, she gives me and Cassie a lot of things like vegetables from her garden, or random casseroles and sometimes just these bulks of snacks.” 

You hummed with interest, thinking that to be kind of sweet. As Steve began to mess with the finished dough, he laughed and continued to say, “It’s kind of nice honestly, because my parents moved out of this place years ago, like maybe a year after Cass was born and I barely hear from them- so it’s almost like she’s Cassie’s unofficial grandparent.” 

Though you didn’t know much about Steve yet, you thought it was safe to assume that Steve shared no relationship to his parents, and you didn’t know what to say about it, feeling like if you asked anything he’d tell you to leave it alone.

“I used to have someone like that,” you said rather than that, making Steve look back at you. Now you were the one looking away, too focused on finishing the next and final batch of cookies, “My fifth grade teacher, and probably the only person I think my dad might’ve dated.” 

It was odd bringing that up, but like Steve had done with you, you were word vomiting too and immediately felt embarrassed. Steve didn’t seem to think so though, instead asking you to tell him more about it. 

“She was just super nice, and I could tell he liked her a lot,” you said vaguely, feeling slightly uncomfortable talking about your dad because it had been a while since you’ve talked to someone about him, considering he was the only family you had left before his passing, “The point is, it’s good to have people willing to help like that.” You chuckled then smiled weakly.

To be honest, you hadn’t thought of your dad since you moved here, not as often as you would’ve liked… you hadn't even got around to putting photos of you and him around the house. A part of you felt…sad that you hadn’t, like you didn’t know if you were mourning him enough anymore. Steve had noticed your expression turn grim, how the smile that followed your soft chuckle suddenly turned into a frown. 

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry,” Steve said, realizing that it was a touchy subject for you. You quickly shook your head. 

“No, no it’s alright, it’s been a while…I mean the grief doesn’t really go away, but…I just hadn’t talked about him with anyone in a long time,” you admitted to Steve.

“I mean, I really like talking to you, about anything so if you’d like to talk about him, or anything else again…well you have my number.” 

You looked at Steve again, feeling touched by his statement, forgetting that you probably weren’t going to see him for a few weeks following this unless things changed in his schedule, but the gesture felt nice. You nodded softly at him, and said almost breathlessly “Okay.” 

Steve winked at you before he turned his attention back on his dough, then he grabbed a separate spoon and brought it up to his lips to taste before asking you, “Is this good? It looks good, it tastes good, but is it good?”

The spoon he was holding was turned to you, wanting you to validate it before rolling them into balls and putting them in the oven.

You didn’t mind, really, parting your lips and taking a bite of the dough off of the spoon he held. He stared at you, brown eyes resting onto your lips for a few seconds too long before lifting them to meet your eyes. You hummed at the sweet taste flooding your mouth, and nodded, “You’re kind of a natural at baking, you know that?” 

A grin spread across his lips, “You’re just saying that, it’s not as good as yours. Mine’s just basic chocolate chip, anyone can make it.” 

“Making bad chocolate chip cookies are possible- and you managed to make really good ones on the first try, I’m pretty impressed,” you said, half paying attention to the sound of Cassie diving through your various cassette tapes, something you said she could do if she wanted. You never really listened to music anymore, unless you were cleaning. 

You could feel Steve’s eyes still on you, seeing him in your peripherals and pretending you couldn’t, even as your cheeks started to heat up and you said randomly, “I kind of wish we went with M&M cookies for you…same concept…more colorful and exciting.” 

Steve paused, “Are those your favorite or something?”

“Oh yeah, something about them really hits the spot,” you joked. Steve half-grinned, as if he learned something even more interesting about you and he glanced at it before he took a double take. 

“Wait, look at me real quick,” Steve told you, and you did, seeing his eyes zero in on your cheek before he pointed and said, “You got a little something right there.” 

You blinked, and he laughed as he grabbed one of the clean dish towels to wipe whatever it was off of your cheek. Your body burst with warmth when he held the fabric to your left cheek. You also felt bad because he was covered in flour head to toe and you didn’t tell him even once. He’d have to take a shower to get it all off probably, but this didn’t change the fact that he was practically holding your face in his large hand.

Heat plummeted throughout you, and you found that you didn’t want to move away, and maybe he didn’t either, as even after he successfully wiped your cheek he didn’t move away. No, he stayed this close to you, so close that your nose caught a whiff of his suddenly familiar cologne that had been masked by the smell of cookies after a while. It was enough to make your mind fog up, just a little, and your breath hitched softly…something that Steve caught.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked you, a teasing element lingering underneath his tone. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and you swallowed thickly, unsure what was going on, and your nerves made you say, “You got something too…uh…well everywhere.”

Steve’s eyes furrowed as your eyes flickered at his entire face, breaking whatever trance he’d entered, and you could see his cheeks turn a little pink underneath the flour. God, did you want him to break out of it? Because he was moving away from you then, and you felt slight disappointment…wondering if something would’ve happened if you didn’t say anything. 

“Everywhere? How?” Steve asked you, now bringing the towel to his face. You gestured to his cheek, then his neck, and his arms and his eyes grew wide. Just then Abba’s “Mamma Mia” started to blast through the speakers, and Cassie was back in the kitchen and wiping her brow like finding the right cassette really tired her out. 

“Okay! I’m back to try more cookies,” she announced. You laughed quietly, and told Steve where the bathroom was before turning to Cass and telling her, “After this final batch you can test one, but first put on some gloves and help me roll the dough into the sugar.” 

Steve was just about to go to the restroom to clean up a bit, but found himself taking a bit of a moment to take in the sight before him. Cassie was now sitting on the stool on her knees right beside you, too big of plastic gloves on her smaller hands, watching you roll the dough into the sugar, then doing one of her own. 

Something swelled up into his chest, something he didn’t quite understand, but he did recognize the warm feeling of happiness seeing Cass with you. There was just something about it, Steve thought, that made a soft grin grow onto his lips…especially when you praised Cassie when she showed you the little ball of dough covered in sugar and cinnamon. 

It was Cassie’s bright smile too that made Steve think for a moment…where did you come from and how come you’re barely in his life now?

✧ ✧ ✧

“Enjoy!” you stated happily as you handed over what felt like the 100th bag of cookies from the faculty’s booth. The woman grinned at you before she handed the cookies to her son and began to take off, giving you time to add more bags of cookies onto the table. 

Beside you, Heidi was counting the money you made so far and placing the bills into a tin box. 

“These cookies are a hit, I’m glad you went with them- they’re super good too,” Heidi said as she picked up her half eaten cookie and shoved the rest into her mouth, “Yup, delicious. You have to make these for the Holiday office Christmas Party in December, god I think I’ll pay you.” 

That made you chuckle as you went around to fix the sign the other members had worked all weekend on that said ‘Front Office’ and had poorly drawn cookies all over it. 

As you did so, there was suddenly a burst of laughter from behind you. You lifted your head up, turning your head toward one of the booths that was across from yours, but more down the line. Women and their kids all surrounded this one table, so much that you were unable to see who’s table it was…that’s if you didn’t know because he’d been here early to set up along with you and others. 

Heidi leaned over the cookies, having heard the commotion too and she laughed out loud, “So, Steve Harrington baking was all it took to take that baker down a notch.” 

She was looking over at the other booth, the town’s baker having only a handful of customers while Steve’s booth was surrounded by a crowd who might as well been waving cash over their heads. It was almost comedic how the simple fact that Steve Harrington baked cookies rather than brought store bought ones caused such a commotion. 

He was standing behind the table handing out the bags of chocolate chip cookies while Cassie was sitting on a clear space on the table taking the cash with the help of one of the other parents working the booth. They were both wearing the matching cupcake aprons again, something that did not go unnoticed by the mom’s either. 

“These are absolutely fabulous, Steve,” you heard one of them compliment him, “It makes me wonder what other skills you’re hiding from us.” There was a giggle after that almost resembled one of a high school girl talking to the football captain and you were sure you could hear the eye roll of the woman’s husband somewhere around here. You laughed while shaking your head and fixed some of the cookie bags to look more presentable before placing more smaller samples onto the tray. 

At the booth, Steve was slightly overwhelmed but Cass was doing a good job keeping everyone at bay. 

“There’s a line!” she told the crowd, “One at a time please!”

Compliments continued to be thrown Steve’s way, and with flushed cheeks he was thanking them and being professional and handing them their bags when a woman asked him for the recipe. Steve looked up at her, and laughed nervously, “Well it’s not my recipe- I had a little- well a lot of help from a friend.” 

“A friend you say? I’d love to meet them and get the recipe then,” she said cheekily before she took the bags from him and moved on. Steve smiled at the next customer, but behind them was a parting of the crowd finally and Steve’s eyes caught you in front of your booth. 

You were holding the tray of apple cinnamon cookies, one of the husband’s of one of the women over here standing beside you as he tried one. He said something to you after, making you grin up at him in a friendly manner and Steve realized he hadn’t listened to a word the lady in front of him said. 

“Daddy! She said she wanted 2 bags!” Cassie tore him from his eyes on you just as your eyes found Steve’s. He cleared his throat lightly, smiling at the woman and grabbing two bags of cookies and holding it out for her. 

She thanked him, and Steve’s eyes found yours again, finding that you were looking at him already. You waved at him, and Steve smiled softly and waved back at you. 

From where you stood, Heidi had caught the small interaction between you and Steve, raising both of her brows with interest. Her eyes rested onto your face, recognizing the expression of warmth written all over your features, right down to your wide smile and eyes that seemed to have lit up. 

She leaned on the table, and hummed with pure interest. 

“So…you and Steve?” Heidi asked, and to you this question had seemingly come out of nowhere as you returned to the seat beside her in the shade. Though it was a cool autumn day, it was still pretty hot when you stood directly in the sun like you just were. 

“What about Steve?” you questioned her as you settled into your chair, Heidi shrugged. 

“Are you and him…getting to know each other more?” she asked you another question, and by now you were used to this, used to Heidi not getting to the point of something and speaking to you like everything that you talked about was gossip or something. You just stared at her, watching her eyebrows wiggle suggestively. 

“Heidi, please, we’re both adults here,” you said, wanting to beg her to stop talking like this and she could only giggle like a high schooler. 

“Oh come on, you can tell me.” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” you said, and Heidi sighed at your stubbornness to admit anything. You chalked it up to maybe this town was so small that any gossip was the holy grail to her, or maybe the odd obsession every married woman seemed to have with Steve Harrington. It could be either, honestly. 

Still, you knew you were lying because maybe there was something to tell because afterall you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you like he did, if anyone’s ever made you laugh and smile so much. The thought of Steve made your stomach twist pleasantly, and your chest to warm up like your oven when you helped each other bake all of those cookies the mom’s were currently salivating over. 

Jokingly, you told yourself that if you looked at him and he was already looking at you, maybe there was something there, something that would be worth telling somebody else about. 

And when you snuck a glance, you were pleased to see that he was. Heat raised to your cheeks, and you allowed yourself this small moment of vindication, as silly as it sounded. 

“I’ll be damned,” Mrs. Abi’s voice broke you from your moment of warmth and you looked up to see her standing there with her arms resting on her waist as she stared at the crowd Steve’s booth brewed up, “I think we’ll all be getting raises next year, and all we had to do was get Mr. Harrington to bake a couple of cookies.” 

The joke made the other faculty at your booth including Heidi laugh, and another office member, who you distinctly remembered seeing go over once or twice, stated, “He had a lot of help I hear from somebody.” 

“Well, whoever convinced him and helped out- I’m grateful because look at this crowd,” Mrs. Abi said, still entirely impressed by how something as simple as Hawkins’ favorite Dad baking chocolate chip cookies could ring up this much business. 

You elected to stay quiet, dropping your eyes to the cookies before you as Mrs. Abi continued to admire the amount of people here. Still, you smiled to yourself, knowing that it was you and liking that you were the only one who knew, like those moments with Steve and Cassie were yours to keep and only yours. It made you feel special, in a way. 

Suddenly, somebody was tapping your arm. It captured your attention, and everyone else sitting at the booth’s attention. Everyone was pleasantly surprised to see it was Cassie Harrington, well mostly everyone as Cassie would visit you on occasion to give you part of her lunch. 

She held out a bag of cookies to you, and said, “My daddy said to give you these. They’re for you and you only!” 

You blinked, and took the bag of cookies from her. Cassie didn’t give you a moment to respond, flashing you a bright smile before she was turning and pushing her way through the crowd. You looked at the bag of brightly colored cookies.

There was a little note attached to the tie around the bag of cookies, different from the rest of the bags, in fact they were different from the cookies you spent hours helping him bake entirely. 

‘Thanks for the help. You deserve these :) - Steve’

The bag was filled with smaller, homemade M&M cookies, the colors of the candy vibrant against the cookie part. Did he seriously make these cookies for you? When did he have the time to do so? Did he make time? So many questions rang through your head and you had forgotten that you weren’t alone. 

In fact, the entire faculty, Mrs. Abi included, was just staring at you as you gawked at the bag of cookies Cassie had just given you in front of everyone. It seemed they had gotten their answer as to who helped Steve bake all those cookies. 

“Nothing to tell,” Heidi muttered beside you, repeating your words from before. You cleared your throat, and placed the cookies inside of your purse that was underneath your chair, trying not to let them see how the gesture was affecting you further.

And later, when you would take a bite out of one of the cookies, your thoughts were filled with Steve Harrington until you would go to bed that night and even then, he still plagued you in your dreams. You weren’t complaining though…not one bit. 

✧ ✧ ✧

If Steve was anything, it was self aware. He knew he wasn’t the most punctual when it came to any relationships outside of the one he had with his daughter, but with Halloween and then Cassie suddenly getting the flu, life had just been a hassle. 

He’d been meaning to call you again, or maybe visit you in the office (except he thought that would be odd if he didn’t have an excuse to be there other than he just wanted to see you) to ask if you enjoyed those cookies he and Cass had baked for you but then he also got sick while taking care of Cass. 

He wasn’t a six year old though, so he managed better than she did, but it did take him out for a day or so. When he thought about you, he tried to remind himself of your declaration that you weren’t a high maintenance friend, basically that you understand him vanishing for weeks on end, but that didn’t change the fact that he did feel bad that after basically a whole weekend spent together he kind of just vanished and relied on Cassie to stay interacting with you. 

The doctor’s note in his pocket came at a good moment, one that he had to deliver to the office himself so that her past few absences would be excused, and he thought that maybe you’d be keen on having some lunch with him today. 

Although, when he entered the school’s front office he was met with an empty desk. 

His eyes danced around the office, disappointment brewing in his chest that maybe you were out sick too or something until he heard you say his name. He snapped his head to the side, seeing that you were actually next to him, he just hadn’t seen you. 

“Oh, god I didn’t even see you,” Steve said, feeling stupid for not, but you just laughed and waved him off because it really wasn’t a big deal, “I have a doctor’s note for Cassie.” 

Steve dug his hand into the pocket of the sweats he was wearing, and scowled when he couldn’t find it, now afraid it had slipped out of his pocket outside on this very windy day, “Shit, I thought I did. Give me a second.” 

He wasn’t looking at you, but if he had he would’ve definitely noticed your suddenly flustered expression, and how you were desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but on his lower half. He dug his hands into the other pocket, pleased to feel the paper there instead. 

“Ah, there you are,” Steve muttered to himself, something Max might’ve said was very ‘dad’ of him to say. He held it out for you to take, and you did, walking over to your desk while Steve finally noticed that you were actually decorating the front part of the office with autumn leaves. 

Various colored leaves decorated the wall, meant to look like they were being blown in the wind, but there was a lot more on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was part of the decor, not until he noticed there were a few pieces of tape missing leaves. 

“Oh,” Steve said, bending over to pick them up. He started to stick them to the wall for you without really thinking, but then the door was being opened again, causing a breeze to fly in so all the ones he had just stuck on had fallen again. 

He realized then that probably happened to you when he walked in, and he cringed, feeling bad about that. He looked over at you when he heard you ask the person, another parent, who had just walked in what you could help them with. Your eyes glanced over at Steve and he waved a leaf at you, catching the amusement to flash over your eyes as you looked back at the parent. 

“I unfortunately don’t have a copy of the permission slip, but they are going to be sent home with the students today…if not come back and I will be sure to have extra copies…” 

Your voice trailed off as you returned to typing on your computer, surely trying to continue inputting Cassie’s doctor’s note into the system. Meanwhile, Steve just waited and watched you, slightly intrigued with you working and realizing that you were just very busy too. 

After a moment, the parent had turned to leave, smiling at Steve as they pushed through the door, the wind causing more leaves to fall off the wall. Steve picked those up too, and when he turned back to you, he saw you were smiling with your eyes on the computer screen. 

“Are the fifth graders going to that museum out of town already?” Steve asked, having practically memorized the schedule they had all been handed at Back to School Night, the one with all the events on it (and your number) despite him needing only to worry about first grade events. He honestly couldn’t wait until Cass’s first field trip in the spring because he was going to be a chaperone. It would be her first field trip too.

“Yeah, at the end of the week,” you replied to him, eyes moving to the doctor’s note, “You don’t have to pick those up by the way…they keep falling anyways.”

He looked down at the leaves, then said, “Well I mean, leaves do tend to fall in fall.” He walked over to you, placing them onto the front of your desk as you continued to type away on the computer and you laughed lightly at his lame joke as you pressed enter on the keyboard with a loud clack!

“Alright, Cassie’s absences have been excused, is there anything else I could help you with, Steve?” you asked, finally looking at him. Steve thought, then shook his head. 

“Nope, well…I don’t need help, just have another question.” You tilted your head at him, urging him to ask you what he wanted, and he said with a soft clearing of throat, “Did you go to lunch already?” 

You seemed genuinely surprised by that question, eyes flashing to the clock on your desk before looking back at him and replying in a suddenly quiet voice, “Not yet, in about 20 minutes actually…why?” 

Steve leaned both hands on your desk, getting slightly closer to you, “Well I haven’t had lunch yet, Cass is still sick and Karen agreed to watch her while I run some errands, so…” he knocked on the wooden surface of your desk, almost nervously before he said, “Want to go get something to eat?” 

You said yes quite fast. 

That’s how Steve found himself with you in his car, meals done and low music playing on the radio as you two well…you just talked. 

You had asked him about Cassie, he told you she was doing much better, and then he was telling you about how his Halloween was. 

Cassie had decided, very last minute, that instead of being a regular fairy she wanted to actually be Tinkerbell. It wouldn’t have been a serious problem if the dress he got her was already green (it was blue), so he had to spend one of his entire lunch breaks finding a dress before he had to end up making it himself with a bunch of material from the only fabric store in Hawkins. 

“Wait a minute…you made her costume?” 

You were shocked, Steve could tell by the way you said it and stared at him with wide eyes and he felt a little embarrassed, “Yeah, took me two whole days. It was bad huh, you can be honest, Cass said she loved it, but I think she was just being nice- she doesn’t want to break her dad's heart.”

“Steve, she talked my ear off about how much she loved her costume,” you told him, genuine surprise still written all over your face, “Every time I learn something more about you the more I like you.” 

Your words made Steve pause for a second, and he turned his head over to you, watching as you took a sip of soda then grinned at him. 

Steve half-smiled at you as he moved to take a sip of his drink as well, “Did you not like me before or something? I really thought we had something with the apple picking, the baking…I even made you cookies, which…were they any good?” 

“Oh the cookies,” you said, your hand flying over your chest as you sighed, “They were delicious, thank you for that.” 

Steve smiled and nodded at you, and you added, “And I liked you before, just…now I like you more. You bake and you sew, and you love your daughter so much. What’s not to like?” 

You were looking at him softly, and Steve felt a bit flustered underneath your gaze. It didn’t feel like when the other women in town would compliment or praise him for what he thought was the bare minimum, where he felt as if they were nothing but empty praise. No, yours felt genuine.

“Well…I didn’t really bake until I met you, so…feel free to take credit for that quality,” he said, jokingly and you chuckled, “And I’m glad somebody thinks me being able to sew is good. Remember those kids I told you about? They break my leg about it all the time, especially Henderson.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, like me sewing is weirder than him building a whole radio when he was 13.”

“Wait he built a whole radio? Huh…”

Steve nodded, “Still shows off about it too, he told me one time what spectacular thing I did when I was 13 and I couldn’t say because I was already getting dates at that age.” 

His statement, as ridiculous and silly as it was, made you almost choke on what was left of your drink. He turned quickly to you as you coughed, and was worried until he heard cackling coming from you and saw your pretty smile again. 

You shifted in your spot, coughing lightly a few more times before you said, “And you’re funny? God, Steve.” 

His cheeks turned a slight pink, proud that he had made you laugh, but concerned with the fact that you had choked on your drink because of it. 

“Everyone except you and Cass would disagree with that statement, but it’s nice to hear every once in a while…” especially if it was the pretty city girl Steve was growing very fond of calling him funny, he didn’t say that part out loud though. Nope, that felt too forward in a lunch between friends even though it was incredibly true. 

Steve stayed staring at you, before he asked what it was that you did at 13, because he realized he’d been talking about himself the entire time and he wanted to know more about you, of course, having really gotten a few glimpses into your life. You hummed in thought. 

“I wasn’t building radios, definitely not getting dates like you Mr. Popular,” you teased, then continued to think with your face scrunched up before you hummed again, and finally said, “I was really big on roller disco.” 

“Wait…wait seriously?” 

Out of all the things Steve might’ve thought, you liking roller disco had not been one of them, and he found it cute the way you became flustered now as you nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, well…just disco in general, I was home alone a lot with nothing to do so I just learned a lot dance moves, and the roller rink was down the block, I was really good…god I can’t believe I’m admitting this to somebody,” you said, clearly embarrassed but Steve didn’t think it was something you should be embarrassed about and felt bad if he was making you think he was judging you in any way. 

“That’s pretty…I honestly would’ve never guessed it,” Steve decided on saying, before he thought of something, “Now that I think of it…Cassie’s music taste has been a bit disco-y lately ever since we were at your place baking…”

This made you laugh in disbelief.

“No way,” you said with a shake of your head and Steve nodded, “That’s funny, I’m a little less embarrassed now.”

“Yeah…god now I know who the culprit is,” he laughed, “Don’t be embarrassed…though how long was that your interest though? I just want to know, I’ve never met a disco dancer before.” He grinned cheekily at the title he’d given and you scoffed, though your eyes held warmth in them still.

“Oh the interest definitely went past 13, up until my college years really, I was in a club and everything, it was really the only fun thing I did.” 

Steve laughed with the shake of his head, still shocked by this information. So, you were a disco girl…he stupidly wondered if you two might’ve been friends if you knew each other in High School, but he quickly shut that down, remembering how he actually was in high school and knew you wouldn’t be friends with him most likely.

What mattered really was that he knew you now, and you knew him now, and like what you had told him…the more he was getting to know you really, the more he was liking you…or maybe it was something deeper with how his stomach churned pleasantly being in this car with you on this windy, fall afternoon just talking, making you laugh joyfully…he remembered having a lot of dates that went exactly like this back in High School, though it would be night time or you both would’ve been half way to Skull Rock by now. 

Still, it felt nice sitting here with you, it felt nice when you were with him and Cass apple-picking too, and at your place as well, baking cookies and enjoying each other’s company. 

All good things must come to an end though, and Steve hated how time flew by when you were having a good time, but you had to get back to work and Steve had to grocery shop for the week then go pick up Cassie from Karen Wheeler’s house. You still talked though as he drove you back to the school, your elbow leaning on the car’s door, hand resting above your head as you spoke and laughed. 

He stopped the car in front of the office, and you thanked him for a fun lunch, and Steve’s eyes had caught the post for the food pantry event the Hawkins School District were holding for Thanksgiving the following week. His eyes rested on the poorly drawn turkey and an idea flashed in his mind. 

“Hey, sorry, one last question,” Steve called to you before you could climb fully out of his car. You turned to him with a curious look, and he said, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving this year?”

“Nothing, I don’t really celebrate it,” you told him that pretty fast, indicating that someone has probably asked you before and that was how you answered.

Steve began to absent-mindly run his hands over the steering wheel, deciding just to ask you if you wanted to join him and Cassie. 

“If you’re up for it, me and Cass join the Henderson family. It’s just…them too, Dustin and his mom. I know she’ll enjoy having an extra person there.” 

You were quiet for a bit, eyes moving to his moving hands, and Steve was about to tell you that you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to, but you were speaking before he could even open his mouth. 

“That sounds fun actually…I guess that means I’m going to meet the little genius who built a whole radio at 13,” you said, referring to the prior conversation. Steve was grinning now, relieved and happy that you said yes and he chuckled and replied, “Yeah, honestly, I think you’d like him. He’s a cool kid.” 

“Alright, guess I’ll be seeing you sooner than I thought,” you said cheekily, and Steve scoffed at you but smiled afterwards. 

With a promise to call you sometime before then to give you the address, Steve was off to the market with butterflies fluttering in his stomach the entire time and when he ran into some familiar faces, they wondered what had him so joyful.

✧ ✧ ✧

You had made the joke to yourself that you felt like Steve when he tried to bring store bought cookies to the bakesale before you got your hands on him and convinced him to let you help him bake. The reason for this was because you had run out of time to make anything, but didn’t want to show up empty handed so you bought a pumpkin pie, and then a cheese tray and showed up just on time at the Henderson home; nothing homemade like you initially wanted but truth be told you didn’t really know how to make any traditional Thanksgiving supper.

They were already there, Steve’s car parked in front of yours, and the door was open, so you poked your head inside, looking around for anyone familiar…basically just Steve and Cassie, but instead you had been met with a young couple sitting on the couch. The girl was shorter, dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail with wispy bangs framing her face, and the boy, well you could only see his curly hair since his back was to you as they seemed to be in the middle of a conversation. 

“Oh Dusty Bun, latin has never been your strong suit and it’s okay to admit it,” the girl told the boy, and he huffed in response, “A genius can’t be good at everything.” 

“That’s not true,” ‘Dusty-bun’ replied to her, “You’re good at everything.” 

And she smiled, clearly keen on the compliment. You entered the house a little more, ready to announce your arrival when the girl saw you first. Your eyes locked with each other’s and she blinked a few times before saying, “Oh, hi?”

The boy snapped his head around quickly, blue eyes finding yours instantly, and when he didn’t recognize you in the span of a second he was saying, “Uh, sorry, I think you’re at the wrong house.”

You furrowed your brows, knowing for sure that wasn’t true because you recognized Steve’s car, and you said, assuming Dusty Bun was a nickname for Dustin, “Oh, I don’t think I am, you’re Dustin Henderson, right?” 

He nodded at you, and you told him your name and ended with, “Steve invited me, he probably just forgot to tell you.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise Dustin, both of his eyebrows raising in disbelief as he looked at you, and then all he could say was, “Wait- wait- are you telling me Steve invited you?” 

“Hey, don’t be rude,” the girl said, slightly tapping Dustin’s arm but he shrugged her off as he said he wasn’t being rude before he said, “I’m just surprised! Steve invited a girl to have dinner with us, is that not insane to you?” 

The girl opened her mouth to say something, maybe along the lines of trying to defend Steve before it went slack, and she replied, “...I admit it is a little surprising considering…well you know.” 

You stared at them, wondering what that even meant but decided not to question that in favor of asking awkwardly if they could just find Steve for you and tell him you’ve arrived. Dustin gave you another nod, and you expected him to get up rather than just turning his head and shouting the last thing you expected for him to shout,  “Hey Steve! Your girlfriend’s here! Why didn’t you tell me you had one!”

Following Dustin’s yell there was a crash from a room to the right of you, then a feminine shout of surprise followed by the familiar voice of Steve saying, “My bad! I’ll clean that up- don’t worry-” And then, Steve was in the room. He was wearing a nice polo shirt that was tight around his arms, and chest, over that was the same cupcake apron that matched Cassie’s. You supposed he was getting a lot of use out of it since buying it. 

There was also pink dusted on his cheeks as he told Dustin, “I can’t believe you just shouted that- she’s not my girlfriend, Henderson. Way to make it awkward- and hi, you’re here.” He was looking at you when he said that, his pretty brown eyes resting on you, and a smile, more shy than usual because of Dustin’s assumption, tugging at his lips. 

“You said 4,” you told Steve, a smile crawling its way onto your lips too. You stayed smiling at each other for a beat or two before you lifted the items you bought and asked, “So, where can I put these?” 

Steve waved you over toward him, “Right this way actually here-” He held his hands out, taking the pumpkin pie and cheese platter off of your hands, and you felt his fingers lightly drag against yours. He was really warm, which made sense as the kitchen you followed him into was drastically warmer than the living space and the colder fall temperature outside. 

“Sorry about Dustin, I hope he didn't make you uncomfortable,” Steve said, apologizing on his behalf but you could only wave that off with a shake of your head. 

“In his shoes, I’d probably think so too,” you admitted before you laughed nervously, afraid that had come off weird, but Steve let out a breathless laugh then nodded in agreement with you. 

There was a woman in the kitchen, Claudia Henderson you presumed, and she was wiping down whatever Steve had dropped. His face fell and he said, “You didn’t have to do that-” 

“It’s no problem, Steve! It wasn’t that bad of a spill,” she told him as she tossed the paper towel pieces she used into the trash, and Steve looked like he was going to say something else when her eyes landed on you and she was saying, “Is this her, Steve? Wow, aren’t you the pretty one?” 

You felt your cheek heats up, not expecting the compliment, and Steve’s eyes widened as she continued to say, “I’m so glad he’s finally found someone else, you know it was so hard-” 

“Wait, no it’s not-” 

“I’m just his friend,” you cut Steve off, Claudia paused before her expression turned shocked and then regretful. Her hands even flew over her mouth like she’d just cursed at you in an accident or something.  

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, I just assumed when he told me he was inviting a woman over that meant-” she gestured between you two before she laughed nervously, “Either way, I’m glad he’s invited a friend, thank you for joining us.” 

Her smile was kind, and despite the confusion from everyone you’ve encountered so far, you felt at ease standing in this pleasant smelling kitchen, and you said, “No thank you for having me! Now that I’m here, is there anything I can do to help?” 

Your eyes danced around the kitchen now, having never seen a kitchen so full with food before and you felt something odd in your chest, something you couldn’t quite describe, but Claudia’s claim that you didn’t have to make you ignore it and set it aside. 

“I pulled a Steve and brought only store bought items, please let me at least do something,” you said, poking at Steve and he huffed beside you. 

“Hey, you say that like there’s something wrong with that,” Steve said as he placed the pumpkin pie on what looked like the dessert portion of the kitchen counter, and placed the cheese platter onto a table with other appetizers to snack on before dinner. 

He was actually opening it before throwing a cube of cheddar cheddar and a ritz cracker into his mouth. 

Claudia had laughed at you both before saying that if you weren’t going to take no for an answer you could help prepare the ham. Your eyes landed on the thick piece of ham resting in a pan as you shrugged off the coat you were wearing to reveal a nice burgundy turtleneck underneath.

That feeling started to linger over you again as you realized you didn’t know what to even start with, having never prepared or baked a ham before- not even on Christmas when it appeared to be the most popular. Claudia didn’t seem to take notice of your sudden hesitation, but Steve did. 

He was back beside you and he said, “I’ll help, she’s taught me everything I know.” 

Claudia hummed, as if proud of her teaching Steve how to prepare a ham, and you gave him a curt nod before you went to wash your hands and Steve grabbed the things from a bag he must’ve brought of the things he would need. 

As you started to pour pineapple juice into a measuring cup per Steve’s orders, you suddenly realized there was somebody missing, a vital person, and you said, “Wait a minute- where’s Cassie?” 

Like you managed to summon the girl with the utter of her name, Dustin was entering the kitchen holding Cassie and grunting as he claimed she was heavy. He didn’t put her down though, not when she was very clearly half-awake, her eyes squinted and various strands poking out of her french-braided hair. 

She still managed to ask, “Is the food ready, yet?” 

Steve was walking toward Dustin, taking her from him, and as he pushed a few strands of her hair out of her face he said, “Not yet, sleepyhead, in about an hour, but look who’s here.” 

He turned around, and Cassie looked very closely at everyone in the room before she finally realized there was an extra person. Her being on the verge of falling asleep had vanished the moment she saw you, and you waved both hands at her eagerly. 

“I was waiting for you! I thought my daddy lied about you coming!” Cassie said, quite loudly. You laughed, head tilting back slightly. 

“Why do you keep thinking that I’m lying? I never lie to you,” Steve said with a shake of his head, and Cassie turned to look at her dad as he placed her hair behind her ear. 

“You said the food will be ready when I wake up, but it’s not,” she stated. 

“Ha!” Dustin laughed from where he stood next to the cheese platter you had brought, placing pieces of it onto a decorative plastic plate, “She got you there.” 

Steve gave him a look, but sighed as he said, “Yeah she did…how about you go and play with Dustin and Suzy and then it’ll be done.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot I wanted to give her a lot of my old edition D&D books, and other old toys,” Dustin said, turning around to look at Steve and Cassie.

“Dude, come on…” 

“What? They’re Steve of Approved, plus if I start teaching her now, she’ll definitely keep the Hellfire Club going when she gets to high school, and that’s important,” Dustin said, clearly having a plan, and Steve could only shake his head as Cassie seemed excited about the word Hellfire and club. 

“Hellfire Club?” you asked, and all eyes turned to you. 

“Oh, it’s a Dungeon and Dragons club, do you play?” Dustin asked you, and you shook your head. 

“No, but…I’ve always wanted to, just never got the chance,” you admitted, remembering there being a club like when you were in high school too and wondering how one might play the roleplaying game, “It looks fun though, I’d like to learn one day.”

Dustin snapped his fingers, “See, that already makes you cooler than Steve” 

“Am I just going to be made fun of the entire time? Well yeah, that’s how I know it’s Thanksgiving,” Steve answered his own question with a scoff, making you smile sheepishly at him until he was smiling again as he said, “I’ve played a few times, not really my thing, but…I mean if you want to play I know a guy who could teach you. He’s a bit insane, but if I’m there you’ll be fine.” 

“Oh so you’re ‘not girlfriend’ is interested in playing and suddenly you’re willing to hang out with Eddie and playing too?” 

Dustin was giving Steve a knowing look, one of which had you suppressing a grin, especially when you saw Steve’s eyes get wide with shock that he’d say. He was probably regretting inviting you now.

“How is Eddie anyway? I haven’t seen him around in a while,” Claudia chimed in before Steve could properly respond and Dustin replied, “He’s always out of town lately, I know because I called before I even got here to see if he wanted to start planning a campaign for us to play.” 

Claudia hummed in response, and you watched Steve give Dustin a look, one of which Dustin shrugged at him before smiling menacingly. 

“Come on, Cass, let’s go,” Dustin said, and Steve placed Cassie down. She eagerly followed after Dustin, waving a good-bye to you before disappearing back into the living room. 

Steve was back by your side, helping you with the ham again and he muttered, “Sorry again.” 

In all honesty you weren’t bothered by the comments, Steve actually seemed more bothered than you were, his cheeks haven’t stopped being flushed since they started. You gently grasped his forearm, making him look at you. 

“Stop apologizing, I can handle being mistaken for your girlfriend,” you said teasingly, to which Steve turned even more pink, “Plus, I’m having a good time, so let’s finish this ham before Cass comes back asking why it isn’t ready yet.” 

Steve laughed and agreed with you as you worked together to get it done. 

Another hour had passed, you were more comfortable, and that weird feeling in your stomach had started to gently subside, up until dinner itself was ready to be served. Dustin, Suzy, and Cass were more than happy to set the table, then as you sat having the said dinner, you stayed quiet the whole time just watching. 

Steve was sitting at the end of the table, Claudia at the other end, Dustin and Suzy were sitting across from you, and you were sitting next to Cassie, just a seat away from where Steve was sitting. It was, what you believed to be, your first big family dinner. 

As you’ve said, it was really only you and your dad growing up, and when you told Steve you never celebrated when he first invited you, you meant it. Your dad and you would go out to eat the following day, but it was still just the two of you and as you watched them interact, laughing and teasing each other, retelling stories you’ve never heard before, and Dustin going on about how his year at University was going, you realized that empty feeling you were feeling was one you always tended to feel around the holidays. 

Maybe you were feeling it a little bit more since you really had no family left, and seeing them just made you think about it more, made you think about how lonely you actually felt, a loneliness you’ve always felt. 

After dinner, Claudia had offered to make cocoa and coffee for everyone as you let your stomachs settle before dessert and everyone had agreed. She shooed you all out of the kitchen though, keen on letting you guys enjoy each other’s company so you were gathered in the living room, the television playing and Dustin continuing his D&D lesson for Cassie, and you actually. 

You couldn’t shake the feeling though, and had excused yourself for a bit. You hadn’t noticed that Steve wasn’t even in the room when you snuck outside to gather yourself. 

Steve had actually gone to the bathroom, mostly to fix his hair and when he came back, the living room was actually just empty. He figured the beverages were ready and waltzed into the kitchen, seeing that he was right. 

Suzy was helping Claudia pour them into various mugs and Dustin and Cassie were standing by the dessert counter, taking advantage of their backs being turned to them. 

“What are you doing?” Steve questioned as he walked closer. They both looked at Steve with wide eyes, their lips covered in crumbs of one of the apple pastries Claudia had made. 

Dustin wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “We’re checking it for poison, duh.” 

Steve’s face deadpanned, having heard that just weeks before from Cassie herself. Deciding it really wasn’t that big a deal, Steve looked around the kitchen, trying to find you, but only seeing the people he originally saw when he first walked in. He asked where you went, and Cassie, with a mouth full of pastry, told him that you had gone outside and Dustin backed her up.

So, Steve went outside too, not without taking two mugs of coffee; one for you and one for him. 

You were sitting on the bench, arms crossed over your chest and staring at nothing in deep thought. You didn’t seem to hear Steve coming outside, not until he cleared his throat and held the mug out for you to take. You visibly snapped out of your thoughts and turned to look at the mug then at Steve, muttering a soft thank you as you took it from him. 

“I just needed a bit of air,” you told him as you held the mug with both hands, enjoying the warmth it radiated.

Steve nodded, and took a sip of his before he sat down beside you, guessing what it was that was bothering you because he had been in the same position as you before. He just kind of sensed it and recognized it, especially when he observed how quiet you were during dinner.

“I know it’s overwhelming,” Steve suddenly said, “Sorry, I just assumed, and maybe I should’ve…I don’t know eased you better into having a big family dinner like this.” 

You blinked, and looked at him. He looked thoughtful as he continued to speak. 

“I’ve mentioned my oh so great parents once or twice, but…yeah I never had any of this,” Steve gestured around with his mug, “Not until I was well out of high school, not until Cassie was born really…I had her mom, but that’s…” he made a face at that, and you tilted your head, this being the first time he’s mentioned her in any context and you thought maybe the comments of surprise Steve invited somebody had to do with her.

“Anyway though, I get it- I was overwhelmed the first time too, and I still kind of am- but knowing that I can give Cassie these experiences I didn’t have growing up makes it worth it,” he finished with a sip of his coffee, eyes soft as he too stared at nothing, thinking of Cassie back inside enjoying the Holiday with the Henderson family. 

You didn’t have a daughter, not like Steve, but you could imagine if you did you would try your best to do the same. It made your heart swell with how much of a genuinely good person and dad he was, and you just wondered what more this guy could do that would make you like him even more. 

“It feels like something I never knew I needed,” you said, laughing weakly and Steve joined you with that weak laugh. 

“Oh yeah, it feels weird huh…but also good.” 

“Yeah…yeah it feels really good,” you agreed, turning your body toward him. 

Steve returned your gaze, seeing something in it that made him swallow very thickly. It had been a while, yes, but when Steve said he was getting dates at 13 he meant it. He knew what it was like when someone liked him, it was almost like second nature and he prided himself once in being able to know when the right time was to kiss a woman. 

He called it ‘electricity.’ Stupid to say as an adult, but true when he was a high schooler. There was electricity between you, and with a soft flutter of your eyelashes, Steve knew they were ‘kiss me’ eyes.

And so, he was slowly starting to lean in…catching your lips parting and your eyes flickering down to his lips. You were leaning in too, but then, the door was being slammed open. 

“We’re having pie now, come on!” Cassie called, poking her head out the door, startling you and Steve. He sucked in a tight breath, leaning away from you as he looked at Cassie who remained in her place, just staring at the both of you like she knew something you both didn’t or something. 

“We’ll be in right now,” Steve told her, and she slowly disappeared back into the house, making you laugh. Steve turned back to you, trying to steady his breath at what almost happened out here and feeling guilty for whatever reason.

He wondered what you were thinking, but you were already moving to stand and he tilted his head upward to look at you, trying to see if he could read you, but you didn’t really give him a chance. You rather smiled at him like always, not giving any sign that you knew he was going to kiss you, which relieved him…but also disappointed him. Did he imagine you leaning in too? Was he being a creep?

If he was, you weren’t acting like it and rather held your hand out and said, “Well, let’s go enjoy some dessert.” 

The rest of the night was filled with more fun, and Steve liked how you were looking less melancholy, talking with Suzy and Dustin (You did actually bring the radio up and Dustin would not shut up). Steve remained on the couch, Cassie laying on it with her head resting on his lap and he figured they should head home soon when he noticed Cassie was actually falling asleep. 

Then, you were standing up, announcing that it was late and you should go. Steve gently moved Cassie, telling her that you were leaving and she opened her sleepy eyes to say bye to you before shutting them again. 

You told everyone a good night, thanking them for letting you join them, and then Steve walked you out. It was on the porch, you turned to Steve and leaned in to give you a chaste on the cheek, catching Steve off guard. 

“Thank you for everything Steve,” you told him, the tone of your voice very soft that Steve almost didn’t hear you over the fasting beating of his own heart from the feeling of your lips touching his cheek, even if it was just for less than a second. 

“You’re…you’re welcome,” he said, voice breathless. You stepped backwards, telling him good night and Steve watched you, a million thoughts running through his mind until he noticed you snap your fingers. Steve furrowed his brows, wondering why you did that before you were leaning into your car and grabbing a paper bag. 

Then, you were walking back to him, and held it out for him to take. 

“What’s this?” Steve asked you as he took it. 

“Just a gift for Cassie,” you told him, looking between him and the bag almost eagerly.

Steve looked into the paper bag, having to squint his eyes to see what it was. When he realized what he was looking at, his eyes widened and he was looking at you. There was a walk-man in there.

“Is this- wait- you didn’t buy this did you?” 

“No!” you said, “It was actually mine, but I never use it.” 

Steve’s gaze remained on yours, jaw slightly agape at the gift you’d just given him to give to Cassie, “Are you…sure?” 

You were nodding, “Yeah, it just sort of sits in my dresser and I know Cassie will use it all the time. Oh, I even…” You reached out, digging into the bag for a moment before you wrapped your hands around what you were looking for, “I made this for her, since you said she was enjoying disco lately I thought I might as well introduce her to my favorite ones and others too I think you might enjoy.” 

Steve looked at the mixtape in your hands, and those butterflies went insane in his stomach, actually rising up into his extremely warm chest. He thought maybe he was feeling light headed by your incredibly nice gesture, Cassie was going to be so damn happy. 

“You might want to listen to it first,” you continued after Steve was still silently staring at you, “You know…make sure it gets a Steve of Approval.” 

That made him laugh, the disbelief leaving his face for amusement before his expression was warm again as he said, “No…no I trust you…god thank you so much, she’s going to be happy.” 

You were nodding again, dropping the tape back into the bag and putting your hands into your coat pockets, “So I guess I’ll see you soon?” 

Steve held the bag against him, and he nodded, “Yeah, yeah see you soon.” 

And then, you were off. 

Steve stayed standing there, up until you were pulling out of the driveway and waving at him from your car.

“...fuck,” Steve cursed at himself for some reason, but saying it just felt right and necessary. He liked you, a lot, and he hadn’t felt this way in such a long time. And because of that…Steve wasn’t quite sure how he was going to proceed with this, or if he should considering his luck with women in the past.

Yet, as he watched your car disappear and felt this pleasant buzz in his mind with thoughts full of you…he knew that he should. The only thing was…he hoped to god he would see you soon. 

[posttexasstressdisorder]

"The best revenge..."

...is living and eating WELL while (and in spite of) living in poverty.

I actually had the gumption to try and have a cafe 30 or so years ago, and I live with a guy who had his own bakery: a Danish-trained Chef currently working as a Sous Chef at a big hotel in The City, and his 21 yr old son (who has literally been an assistant sous chef to his dad his whole life).

We're all barely afloat, his son is looking for his first real job-job "out there", and getting discouraged. Y'all hear regularly about my poverty status, and my roomie chef is doin' as much as he can, and we're all three freakin' broke.

Fuck it. We may be broke, but we are are gonna Eat as best we can with what we got. So to the current example.

Yes, I know how to cook Mexican Food like any native ex-south-texan worth his salt and lime. Yes I learned how mama/grandma did it, either mine or someone else's.

Roomie and I are carnivores, son is veg. We all agree that Mexican Food is good, so I'm always looking for how to spend my "old-fuck-on-food-stamps EBT the best way.

Behold, Example 1: 20 lb. bag of dried pinto beans.

20 lbs for $17. And lookee there: it's Fiesta, no stranger to this former Austinite. And anyone who knows knows that this boy knows how to make a pot o'pintos, with/without carnivorousness. Keep 'em on the stove long enough you got Refrieds.

Somebody at Groce-Out is from Texas, gotta be: They have Velveeta and Rotel (for QUESO!) at near-normal prices! I laughed today. Velveeta was 6.99 at Groce-Out, and I shit you not, $14.95 at Lucky.

Got that along with a couple 2-lb bags of their "Hollis Street" whole bean French Roast (Dark) for $11.95 ea. This is surprisingly good coffee beanage, freshly roasted right up the road in Emeryville, evidently. So good coffee for cheap. A similar brand at the 'non discount' grocery store I go to is $21 for a 2lb bag.

While they aren't the winner in the coffee bean competition, Lucky (the non-discount store) is great for meat, especially mid-week, when they have lots of specials. Their "megapaks" of chicken thighs (10/pkg) were buy one get one free. So for ten bucks, I got 20 thighs (over 7lbs), which, when roasted with lots of salt and pepper, and cooled and shredded and deboned become something like 4 pounds of Chicken Enchilada Meat. For ten bucks.

Tomorrow I go to another discount store closeby roomie told me about that has the best commercial Hatch Chile in a jar I have ever found. Tastes like mine, when we would get a case at a time at Central Market, get 'em roasted in the parking lot, and take 'em home and shuck most of the the skins/seeds, and saute onion and garlic and add. In. A. Fucking. Jar.

So you see where this is heading.

We will be having a TexMex Enchilada/taco Feast that can be repeated at will until we've eaten/given enough away. Freezer. Vacuum sealer. Oooooooom.

And yeah, we got the dessert thing covered. I buy flour, the three sugars, butter, real cream, good organic milk, good brown eggs. I bake everything from fucking scratch. I buy berries and grapes as my main fruit. I don't buy a lot of processed ANYTHING. I buy ingredients. And bread/tortillas, obvs. And I'm happy I have the "card" that gives me my eeked-out apportionment of "food funds".

So that old adage of "The Best Revenge" being "living well" means we may be fucking poor, but goddammit, we are gonna Eat, with a capital E if I have anything to say about it.

All three of us are pretty much clinging to the same leaky life-raft, this accursed but oh-so-necessary apartment, not much overlap in our lives/diets/schedules, but every once in awhile I get to go back into "restaurant mode" and do up a Massive Feed. Share with the neighbors and stock the freezer.

And a pot of beans on the stove in perpetuity.