#guacamole prompts

[guacamolleee]

Hey !!!! Sorry that my prompt comes so late! I am so happy to see you are taking prompts

I am torn between

"i can't lose you again. "

and

"you are my biggest regret."

from the Angst prompts for your wonderful Thana and Emmrich. So if anything inspires you, I would love to read it

thank you for the prompt <3 also inspired by this post by @thequeenofthewinter. Featuring Lich!Emmrich and a reincarnation AU :)

For @thedasweekend

Set post-Veilguard. CW for major character death. 1762 words.

The knife was lodged in her chest and it was surprise — not fear — that came over Rook’s face as the color drained from her. “Emm—rich…”

“Hush, darling.” He caught her just as her knees gave out and she crumpled. “It will be alright. Just a little pain, my love.” Pain was but a small price to pay for eternity. Rook would forgive him for it, he was sure — his wonderful, beautiful, brave girl. This too she shall overcome.

“Why…” Confusion distorted her features, and he pressed a wrapped bony finger to her forehead, soothing the pinch of her eyebrows.

“You will understand soon.”

She did not, could not, and as she slipped into unconsciousness, Emmrich watched as the Fade shuddered around her, pulling at her spirit, her life essence spilling around her in tendrils only he could see, curling up into the air like smoke.

Emmrich held his breath, lungs long gone but the habit remaining, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Her warm blood soaked the wrappings around his fingers, body rapidly cooling in his arms as he tried to press her close to the cavern of his ribcage. Something was wrong — the colors of her cheeks were gone, chest no longer rising and falling, lips slack and parted. The diamond thread of her life unravelling too quickly.

He pressed his palm to her temple, slid it down her cheeks, cupping her face and calling her name. “Rook. My darling. Rook, Rook—”

She did not answer, no spirit pressing back into her body, no flesh stripping away in a flash of necromantic magic.

Something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Magic sparked at his fingertips, surging from his form to hers, willing her to return, willing color to form on her cheeks, willing the breath back in her lungs. And for a single moment, the Fade shuddered again, smoke clinging close to her body. He wrapped it around his hand, a steady beat in his palm as if he carried her heart, and pressed it to her chest, over the knife, smoke seeping into her blood.

But Rook did not stir — and the smoke retreated and disappeared to somewhere beyond what even his Lich senses could make out. A keening sound left him, rasping on bone and choking on air he didn’t need.

The ritual failed.

Rook was gone.

***

Emmrich buried Rook after an eternity of holding her in his arms. At some point, he had even taken her to their home, healing the rot and the decay until old friends convinced him it was time to let her rest. And so he did — brought her body to the burial vault he had prepared for himself when he was still with the living, left pieces of his grave gold with her as he interred her under marble and dirt.

And time passed as it was wont to do. Years slipped by like sand between his fingers, turning into decades upon decades, new ages dawning and dying in the blink of an eye.

The loss scabbed over like a badly healed wound, a bone that had not been set properly before flesh knitted itself back together. But he visited her often, under a glamor, care taken not to scare the apprentices tending to the Memorial Gardens or the families making their own visits. In that, there was a semblance of peace — the phantom pain for the heart that no longer beat in his chest easing only when he stood at the foot of her grave.

No one bothered him on these visits, there was nothing so interesting in a widower in mourning, tending to flowers and speaking only to himself. And the apprentices knew better than to disturb the strange old man that teemed with even older magic, their skin pebbling with goose flesh and hairs rising on their necks just by standing too close to him.

“Ser?”

Most of them, anyway.

Emmrich turned, intent on shooing away what was most likely just a well-meaning apprentice, but he froze when he saw them.

A young man — no more than twenty, twenty-one at most, if Emmrich had to guess, but all mortals looked so young to him these days. An easy smile on painted lips, hair the color of a crow's wing — or a rook's. Oh, if Emmrich hadn't seen his own heart buried, he would swear it was pounding in chest, rattling in his ribcage like an animal.

“I'm sorry, ser.” The smile turned shy, and a pretty flush rose to the young man's cheeks. “I've seen you come here every day since I got here. I thought… I thought you might like some company…?” He turned to the gravestone, voice turning soft. “It's… easier with company. Or so I'm told.”

“I—” Emmrich started, but found his voice had left him. He cleared his throat, another habit he'd never managed to shake off. “Just so, my dear.”

Their eyes met and the young man grinned up at him, wide and toothy, pleased and oh so familiar.

It wasn't Rook — but it was, wasn't it? Emmrich would recognize her anywhere. Even beyond the trappings of her mortal coil, his soul would know hers at a glance.

“Who were they?” The young man nudged him.

You, he wanted to say, but that was… inadvisable. Instead, he replied, “My wife. I… lost her a long time ago.”

“Oh.” The young man's eyebrows pinched in just the same way Emmrich remembered. “I'm so sorry.”

Emmrich shook his head.

“Were you together long?”

“Shorter than I would have liked.” The truth, though he doubted the other man knew just how much.

“That's the way things are when you're in love, I guess.” The young man smiled sadly. “Someone always has to go first.” Then he froze, cheeks coloring with mortification. “I’m so, so sorry, that was insensitive. I didn’t mean— I wasn’t thinking—”

Emmrich raised his hand, and the young man stopped stammering. “It’s quite alright.” He smiled, unpracticed through his glamor but — hopefully — still reassuring. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Rook. It’s what all my friends call me.”

“… Rook.”

“I know, I know, kinda weird but—”

“No. It suits you perfectly.”

***

There was no distinction between Rook of the past and Rook of the present — they were the same as far as Emmrich was concerned. A little different, but didn’t time change all creatures? Rook simply… changed a bit more than others.

It was the same wide smile, a dimple on one side of his cheek — she had one on the other, a perfect mirror — when Emmrich asked him about his stay in the Necropolis. An exchange student from Tevinter, a minor noble family with ties to Nevarra, eager to have their son rub elbows with the rest of his noble peers. But he liked the gardens more than his classes and found himself simply admiring the flowers more often than listening to his teachers. That was how he caught Emmrich, something tugging at his heart to comfort the sad stranger. It took a week to gather the courage.

But oh, how glad Emmrich was he did. They met in the Memorial Gardens nearly every day since, first at the foot of Rook’s grave, then the little tea table where Emmrich prepared a few refreshments — what sort of homecoming would it be otherwise?

Nevermind that Rook didn’t remember a thing, preferred lemon cakes to the chocolate ones, took his tea with not even a single spoon of sugar, and a whole host of other things. Time changed people, Emmrich reminded himself. It was lovely to learn new things about an old lover, wasn’t it?

It was still his Rook.

It was. It was.

The same gleam in their eyes. The same way they tucked their hair behind their ear. The same look they got when they met Emmrich’s gaze, blushing and looking away half a second later.

The same way they kissed — that very first time, under a canopy of conjured Fade lights and Shroud's Kiss, memory transposed over reality.

It was perfect.

***

Fear.

It was only fear in Rook's eyes when Emmrich revealed himself — skin turning into bone, his chest hollowing out.

Horrible, aching fear when Rook finally reached out to him, flesh of his palm meeting the bone of his cheek, careful, oh so terribly careful as if Emmrich would turn into dust if Rook touched him too hard.

“Emmrich…” Rook's voice shook.

“Darling.” The glow of his eyes danced on Rook's skin. “It's only me. I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Yes. Nothing has changed.”

“Okay.” Rook swallowed, retracting his hand before returning it to Emmrich's face, knuckles over his cheekbones, tracing the hollow of his eye socket. “Okay.”

Emmrich's wonderful, beautiful, brave Rook. Nothing had changed.

***

Emmrich fed Rook the secrets of lichdom slowly, preparing him as he did before. He went wrong somewhere back then — perhaps moved too fast in his eagerness, his fear, that first time, and had not prepared her enough, had not whispered the right secrets into her ear.

He will not make the same mistake twice. He will not lose Rook again.

***

It took years, decades, before Emmrich would try again. But time was what he had in abundance, and his darling Rook had grown to be a respectable mage on his own merit in the time between, traveling frequently between Minrathous and Nevarra, with most none the wiser, Emmrich having taught him the secrets of the Lighthouse and the Crossroads.

Why wouldn't he? The Lighthouse belonged to Rook, the place and the person forever intertwined in his mind. Emmrich was the last of the Veilguard until he wasn't, its sole keeper until Rook returned to join him in eternity.

And now it was time.

***

The knife was lodged in his chest and it was surprise — not fear — that came over Rook’s face as the color drained from him. “Emm—rich…”

“Hush, darling.”

Rook crumpled in his arms — again.

He caught Rook — again.

Soothed the same pinch between his eyebrows, felt the same bloody warmth seep into the wrappings of his finger bones.

And waited.

The blood dried. The body cooled. Rot settled into its new home.

The ritual failed.

Rook was gone — again.

***

There was no version of this story where Rook did not love Emmrich.

There was no version of this story where Rook was not loved by Death in return.

Just as surely, there was no version of this story where Emmrich did not try again.

And again.

And again.

Regret haunting the halls of the Necropolis as old as time, too well entangled in his soul.

[comfort-character-central]

Imagine your f/o calling you an incredibly sweet nickname or term of endearment in a loving yet casual manner. "It's always so nice to see you, darling." "Of course I missed you, sweetheart." "Thank you for being here, love."

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 333

I once more believe Battinson Batman needs to be given a child. Or multiple. Multiple children. I am also once more rotating Ghosts Have Wings Au. 

So Batman, still early in his whole vigilante career ends up busting a shipment, nothing too surprising there. Pretty usual honestly. Except for what was in one of the crates already open. Because it looks like some sort of gemstones but… perfectly spherical. Strange. Suspicious. 

But it’s also late, er, early in the morning, and the GCPD is notoriously corrupt, so like, he’s not going to just leave the weird gemstones, each about the size of a plum or so. (Dear Gotham he’s apparently hungry, and might inwardly vow to never let anyone realize what his tired mind decided to use as measurement) 

So he, unknowingly spurred on by more than just a slight bit of ecto contamination, takes the strange spheres back home. Just puts them in his pockets and heads back to the manor that they moved back into after the whole Riddler mess. (He even found a cool cave! With a bunch of terrifying bats, but they made a glass separator! For safety!) 

But in Bruce’s defense of forgetting about them, he’s more than a little tired and hungry and just wants to sleep for a bit, y’know? So maybe he forgets about the gems as he falls asleep in the chair in the cave (Alfred was not pleased!) until he starts digging around for them. Erm. Did they fall out somewhere?? There’s no holes in his belt pockets… 

And maybe these sort of things shouldn’t slip his mind, the spheres had felt Weird with a capital W, but he gets forced to a circus and there’s an… accident. So maybe he pushed it away as not important because there’s now an angry grieving eight-year old living with him and he’s panickedly reading any and all sort of parenting books he can get a hold of because he has no clue what he’s doing. 

Yeah, maybe his back is itching like crazy no matter what he tries, and maybe he threw up the other day, but it’s fine. This is fine. 

….

Oh dear Gotham those are feathers, this is not fine- ALFREEED!

[cr1ms0n-d0ll]

Sparring with Jason

pt. 1

……….

Jason still not exactly sure as to how he ended up in this position with you. One minute you were both sparring with the wooden staffs usually kept in the corner of the training room, and within a blink of an eye you had swept the back of Jason’s knees causing him to fall to the floor. His eyes still refocusing from the fall, and after a second his eyes land to you, straddling his lap, holding the staff against his neck. Jason cursed at himself mentally for getting distracted by your boobs, even if it was just for a moment. He couldn’t really blame himself too much since it was hard not to look at the way your breasts lay plush against the material of your sage green workout bra paired with matching shorts. And honestly, he wasn’t really too mad about the position you both were in either.

“Yield” you said, your grip firm on the staff against his neck. Jason took note of the stern look on your face and the mischievous yet triumphant glimmer in your eyes.

“Now why would I do that princess” Jason teased while smirking at you, his cocky demeanor returning to him.

“Because from the looks of it, I currently have the upper hand” As I lean forward to whisper something in his ear, I subconsciously grind against his crotch, only realizing when it twitches beneath my core.

“Yield” I say again, this time whispering it to him as my lips lightly brush against his ear.

Jason shivers at your words, taking in how your breasts push against his chest, and the plush of your ass ever so slightly grinding against him.

“Fuck” he mutters out, completely breathless

…….

This was my first time actually writing something on my page so pls lmk if you like it and want me to continue this!

Also I did not proof read this so if you notice any mistakes pls ignore it 😭

[captain-huggy-bear]

Jack is one that if you aren’t paying attention to him because you’re cooking or reading. He will literally pout

Oh, yeah, big time! Like you're just making your breakfast, trying to fry an egg and he's sat there pouting because you won't cuddle or kiss him because you're dealing with hot oil, Jack! I'd love to do more of these short drabbles/prompts, especially any like dialogue prompts where people send me a single sentence/word/piece of dialogue and who they want it with like '"You're pretty..." with Luke' type vibes. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Baby..."

"Mmm...." You don't look up from the frying pan, too focused on the egg you're frying for your avocado toast sandwich, trying your best to avoid spitting oil as you cook and trying to get the perfect consistency for your yoke. (Failing miserably because who said you were a great cook?)

"Baby..." He's pouting now, not that you can see it because you're refusing to look at him and this is a fucking crime. He's just sat here and you're so close but you won't even look at him. His bottom lip juts out away from his top, eyes turning sad and pitiful like a puppy. Not that you notice, which makes his pout deeper.

"Yeah?" Still you don't look at Jack, your egg is nearly cooked and you move away to get your toast as it pops out of the toaster, slathering guacamole across both sides and bits of avocado, drizzling sriracha mayo over top.

Jack makes an executive decision, if you won't look at him then he'll just have to make you take notice of him. He picks the exact wrong moment to get up and slide his arms around your waist. The moment when you're transferring your egg to your sandwich and you nearly, nearly drop a boiling hot fried egg on your foot as a result.

"Jack!" You're quick to save the egg, getting it onto your toasted bread before putting the pan and spatula down. Jack's nuzzling into your neck, still pouting because you're more focused on your food than on him and it's not fair, he's been away for a week on a roadie and he's missed you. Didn't you miss him?

"You're ignoring me..."

"Jack, I'm not ignoring you but I need to eat my breakfast, you know how crazy my blood sugar gets..." You try to reason with him, putting the top bread on your sandwich and cutting it in half. He's latched onto you like a limpet on a rock, pressing little kisses to your neck, nose nuzzling against your skin in a way that is far too ticklish.

"You won't even look at me, do you not love me anymore?"

You can't help but laugh at him, turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck. Jack's pouting down at you, but there's a little twinkle in his baby blues that tells you he's messing about and just being silly.

"Of course, I love you, Jackie."

"But not as much as your stupid food." His pout manages to become deeper as he glares over your shoulder at your breakfast.

"I love you more. I promise. C'mere..." You cup his cheeks and smile at the way he melts into your palms, practically nuzzling into your hands as his pout melts away. You drag his face closer, pressing one, two, three kisses to his lips before attempting to pull away from him. You should have known that wasn't going to happen.

"Nooo...." He doesn't let you, hands sliding into your back pockets, cupping your arse and pulling you as close as possible. Jack's busy pressing kisses now to your cheeks and nose and you can't help but giggle, a laugh that puts his pout at rest and makes him smirk because he did that. He made you laugh. You're paying attention to him.

"Jack...I need to eat..." You say it between giggles, face scrunching as he kisses across it, finding any and every spot imaginable.

"But I wanna be close to you, baby..."

"Then I'll eat and sit on your lap, is that enough of a compromise?" You try your best to get him to release you, he takes a moment to think, pretending that the decision is a hard one.

"Okay, but I want kisses after."

"Deal."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

You extracted yourself from the boring conversation about substitutes for guacamole using dried beans with a forced smile and a muttered "excuse me". Another cocktail party in the apocalypse... These Alexandrians were fucking clueless.

Daryl was standing in the corner with a beer in his hand looking supremely uncomfortable and unapproachable. You wandered over and leaned up against the wall next to him. "Well, this is... something..." you said.

"Mmm," he hummed, watching you take a deep drink from your beer.

You glanced over at him again and smiled at the shine in his clean hair and the nice clothes he'd pulled on for the occasion of this stupid party. "You look really nice," you said.

He ducked his head and twirled the glass bottle in his hands nervously. "Nah... just showered for once," he growled.

"I get to decide if you look nice. And you do. Really," you said, catching his blue eyes again.

"Thanks," he murmured. "Ya look—well... way better than me," he drawled, ducking his head again. You smiled at his apparent shyness. "Think I might just slip outta here soon, though. Not like anybody would notice..."

"Oh, no you don't!" you said hurriedly. You slipped your arm through his and moved into him more closely. "If I have to suffer through this nonsense, then so do you," you laughed.

He glanced over at you, surprised by your closeness and touch. He gulped. "If ya keep standin' like this with me, people are gonna think��" he broke off, his face flushing.

"Think what?" you asked, smiling up at him, your eyes bright.

"Think we're—ya know..."

"Together?" you suggested softly.

He chewed on his bottom lip. "Mhm," he hummed.

You cocked an eyebrow up at him. "Is that a problem for you? You don't want to be seen with me?" you joked.

"What? No—I—"

"I'm kidding, Daryl. Let people think whatever they want. You're mine," you laughed. "At least for tonight."

Daryl gulped nervously. "Alrigh'... I ain't gonna argue with that..."

Prompt: "Oh no you don't! If I have to suffer through this nonsense then so do you!"

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with a reader who would literally get into a fist fight for them?? Literally, if someone even looks at them wrong reader will throw hands. It's literally that meme (Random person) "GET YO FUCKING DOG BITCH" (MCYT) "it don't bite" "YES IT FUCKIN DO-" I'm sorry I'm feeling silly 😔

OH MY FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT AND THE REFERENCE TO THIS MEME LMFAOOO OH MY LORD BSHWJRHEJJAJW ; very vine oriented so I apologize. you threw me into a loop referencing that

MCYT ; "anytime, anywhere, I'd beat a bitches ass for you"

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, slimecicle, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, talk of blood/injuries, physical fighting, vine cringe because I got very carried away and you can tell

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was one of those kids in high school that made light offensive jokes but would never fight anyone over anything, he's not a violent person at all other than in his jokes

but God forbid some random person look at you two weird in public, you're on their ass

you're more offended that they were judging Tommy at all, you couldn't care that they were judging you

"sorry, do you have a problem?" You squint your eyes at the person, "me and my boyfriend are just trying to shop and you keep following us around and staring, like, can I help you?"

just a teenage Karen

yall do take it outside when the motherfucker follows you out and begins to record you

you beat this fuckers ass to a PULP

Tommy's just holding the few bags of stuff you'd purchased staring down, jaw on the fucking floor like "Oh my God wtf do I do"

he had the vlog camera on so he kinda got it all on video before he pulled you away from the person

yall sprinted the hell away bc the security guards were running towards yall 😭😭

#neveridentified

#the person admitted guilt anyways and said they were planning to hurt you so no point in trying to track yall down for self defense

#i barely know the law shush

RANBOO

they just kind of accepted that you were like this

"I do not endorse violence unless you are y/n. I can't make them un-violent. I have tried, they're a vicious guard dog now"

hurricane Katrina? more like hurricane tortilla when you enter the building

yk the free style dance teacher vine? that'll be ranboo out in public and someone will stare at them all weird and you'll glare back

"walk away, walk away" you mumble, watching the person hurrily walk away as they see you like glaring daggers into their skull

your dynamic is the one vine that's like "Oh can I have a sip of your water?" and "It's not water or vodka, it's vinegar" "bitch what"

then you'll go make angsty edge lord posts to the one bojack horseman audio "I'm not a violent dog" and insert a clip of you beating the shit out of someone in high school

FREDDIE BADLINU

you post the "look at all those chickens" vine on your Twitter everytime you see a hate comment made for one of you

you love instigating fights w people online it's the funniest fucking thing

if you don't know how to reply to some dumbass edgelord response you'll just spam the guacamole vine until they shut up

"wait, why does y/n have so many soaps?"

"MIND YOUR FUCKIN BUISNESS DAVID"

Freddie's response to your violence is usually the saxophone seal vine. he genuinely laughs everytime he sees you fighting w someone online

sometimes you'll stream it while you wait for a response and while you're fighting online trolls who've been brainwashed by Twitter

"You're gay?!?!?!?11??11"

insert the "ms keisha dead" vine and the battle is over idk what to say

fight fire with fire I guess

NIKI NIHACHU

she hates yet loves that you'd fight ppl for her

oh, someone treated her wrong? you'll be trending on Twitter for fighting the person

#y/u/n will literally be at number 1 for a week

people edit the fight too

she appreciates it though, even though she doesn't exactly like to promote violence, she'll accept it from you

"Oh, don't worry about them, they're just a little... nervous around people sometimes"

"nervous? girl that mf is SNARLING at me"

you'll see a post that's like "me when someone tries to start shit w my s/o" and reply with the "hahaha I do that" vine

when I tell you she CACKLES reading online fights with people 😭🙏

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

"get the F off my yard!" proceeds to have to drag you away from situations where someone's actin a little funny in a /neg way

he genuinely thinks you fighting people for him is funny

he'll tell the stories on stream and to his friends like "dude they fucked this guy up, I honestly feel bad for laughing"

honestly most the time it's people victimizing themselves

like that one meme where the lady very obviously and fakely falls over that bench on LIVE TELEVISION.

he's your biggest supporter

he's the old guy from that one vine of the kid singing "Oh wait a minute mister postman" and he does the whole ass high note

"here's y/n fighting someone for idk what because they're talking to the police 😋"

you're a problem at this point

QUACKITY

you've physically fought so many wild racists for him it's crazy

he'll gladly cheer you on

"AHHHH COME GET YO DOG BRO HELP"

"Oh it don't bite"

you proceed to bite the bitch

online fights are usually responded w the purple teletubby twerking meme

"L don't be a weak ass racist pussy next time"

you fight Logan Paul for some reason??? Twitter drama mostly

don't worry quackitys there to watch

17-3 don't worry... ehehehrhahahha

when he tells you that you need to stop instigating fights you send him the "They ask you how you are but you just have to say that you're fine when you're not really fine" meme BAHDNHAHA

FOOLISH GAMERS

"YOU KNOW WHAT DUDE? IM OUTTA HERE" vine in a nutshell with you two. I can't explain this but it makes sense I swear

"whatd you do to your eyebrows?" meme except its "Whyd you fight that person!?" "I don't really know!"

Twitter fights are like "and they were roommates!" "ohmygodtheywereroomates" I swear to fucking god

you love instigating shit with Twitter trolls

when you stand up for him/reply to edgelord haters for him he replies with the "country boy I love youuuuuuu" vine

"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKIN MONEY!" vine with the law and order intro is literallt how physical fights go

let's just say some stalker edgelords tracked you guys down at the streamer awards...

HE AND PUNZ GENUINLEY CHEER YOU ON

here you go trending on Twitter again

[kaiso-woo]

A Fan of the Fiction

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist

BONUS #3 - This has connections to ‘Stay Series’! Let’s just say… ‘I don’t want to go to sleep now, I’ll be making a masterpiece now”… by which I mean the creation of Bahng Alexander Korain.

!Minors - istg, do not interact. Go away!

WC: 2.3k

Synopsis: Uh. You read smth unholy for the first time in a while, and holy guacamole you can actually fulfil this fic because your husband is legit Chris? Haha…

Notes: SMUT, Thigh Grinding, Multiple Orgasms, p in v - dear lord (don’t be an idiot, wrap it ffs), breeding (with results obviously T-T), Choking, Bulge… kink?, Degradation…? Dom-Sub-Switch-Who-What-When-Where-Why, Oral (F Receiving), Traffic Light System, Fluff?, Second Person Narration, Swearing, Idol!Chan, Fem!Reader

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

BONUS #3

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

--

You drop your phone down onto your chest, breathing heavily, your mind whizzing with sin. Tentatively, you sneak a hand into your pants and tap at your underwear, retracting it immediately with a groan when you realise how soaked you are.

You shouldn’t have read that fic. You shouldn’t have at all. All it did was place dirty thoughts in your mind because, you realise, you could recreate that scene right here, right now.

Chris is currently sitting on your bed in another room, working away on a song. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen after he cooked dinner, and upon seeing him busy at work, decided to lie down on the couch and give him some peace.

Somehow, you had wandered onto Tumblr for the first time in years and you had forgotten just how atrocious your feed was. With a nervous bite of your lip, and a check to make sure that Chris was still in your room, you thread your hands back below your waistband and rub a slow line up your folds.

“Fuck,” you whisper, as you pulse around nothing, “Shit okay, am I doing this? Am I going to?” You say this even as you get off the couch and wander over to your room, where the only things illuminating the place is Chris’ computer, reflected eerily onto his face, and his bedside lamp.

“Chris…?” You squeak, words beginning to fail you already, “How busy are you honey?”

Chris looks up and rubs his eyes, peering at your cowering figure over by the door. “Relatively busy, why? You okay? Need me to do something?”

You swallow nervously and walk over, suffering even further at the sight of his dark eyes watching your every move. “No… no it’s okay, you just… stay there,” you breathe, hesitantly stripping yourself of your shorts and crawling onto the bed. “Yeobo…?” Chris asks, his voice dry.

“You can keep working babe, do you mind if I just… ride your thigh? Please?” You beg staring at him with wide eyes. Chris inhales sharply and his eyes flicker away from you. He blinks, in a daze, at his computer screen, and when he doesn’t reply you prompt him again. “Please baby? I need-”

He interrupts with a breathy “Yeah, yeah of course”, and shifts his computer to rest on one knee. Relief washes over you, and you crawl onto his lap, immediately beginning to grind into his thigh.

Chris breathes deeply and returns to his laptop, clicking here and there and apparently refocusing on his work. A sultry groan leaves your mouth as you slow the pace, but make your grinds longer, and Chris curses under his breath.

“I want more…” you moan and remove yourself from him to take off your underwear, “Keep working baby, please don’t let me distract you.”

Immediately, the friction of Chris’ jeans on your clit makes you whimper, and your pace quickens, your juices beginning to drench the fabric.

Chris’ thigh flexes underneath you, and you gasp at the action, your mind half wondering whether he’s doing it involuntarily or not, but too far gone already to properly consider it.

“Shit baby, how am I supposed to-” Chris chokes out, and you look down at him for the first time in a while. He’s not looking at his computer anymore but is fixating on your pussy grinding desperately on his thigh.

“How's it feel baby?” He whispers, glancing at you through his eyelashes. You whimper and grab his shoulders, his computer sliding off his knee sadly. Chris’ hands sneak around your waist, and as he helps to guide you and the slightly new angle works its wonders, you feel that knot beginning to pool tightly.

“Chris-” you groan, mouth hanging open in pleasure. “You like it, huh? Look how easy it is for you to get off on my thigh, baby. Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

Chris has purposefully slowed your movements, returning you back to the long hard grazes, and his irises have blown out with desire. “Baby, Christopher, harder- please I need more-” you choke out, nails digging into his shoulders, and Chris’ head falls back in pure bliss.

“Jesus fuck. Are you gonna cum for me sweetheart? Cum all over my thigh?” You nod eagerly and he tilts his head questioningly, hands squeezing your hips sharply. “Words baby. I need to hear you. Speak for me.”

“Yes Chris… yes I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, I’ll cum for you baby.” “Fff-huck,” he moans, pushing you down harder and flexing his thigh at random intervals. You lean down to kiss him, tongues immediately swirling, your pants mixing with his deepening breaths.

“Shit I’m gonna-” “Come on baby. Come on. Ruin your pussy on my favourite jeans, hm?” “Chris- Chris Chri-”

You convulse on his leg and your forehead crashes into his shoulder as your orgasm washes through you, cum leaking out everywhere and thoroughly soaking his jeans. “God you’re so good for me.” Chris gently pushes you off him and stares in awe at the stain you’ve left, but his attention returns to you soon enough.

“You can handle more right?” He asks, sitting up on his knees so he can hastily remove his soaked jeans. You laugh and shift over to help him, smiling at his hasty actions and flushed face.

“Of course I can. Who do you think I am?” “Mine,” he grins back, and at his words you push him back into a seated position, much to his surprise.

“Sure honey, but you’re also mine.” Steadily, you sink down onto him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at how quickly he fills you. “Sh-shit. How’re you still so-” he stutters, hands flying to your waist again, “You’re still so fucking ti-ight.”

You groan and grind down onto him, and he hisses at the action. “Come on darling, don’t play. You either ride me, or I’ll fuck you into the bed.”

You take a shuddering breath and start the agonising journey towards heaven, or maybe it’s hell, watching in satisfaction as Chris unravels beneath you, his hips thrusting up to meet yours erratically, chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Just like that baby- god you’re al-always so tight for me. So perfect,” he groans, and you clench around him at his words, a string of profanities escaping his mouth.

“Shit. Love if you keep doing that I’m not going to- I'm not going to last long,” he groans. You lean down and tenderly brush the hair off his sweaty forehead so you can plant a kiss there, still unrelenting with your pace. “It’s okay baby, come undone for me. I never said you had to last long.”

His head falls back and smacks against the headboard, but the impact apparently doesn’t bother him. “No- I need to- yeobo, I need to pull-” “It’s okay, I want it in me.”

Chris’ hips stutter to a slow stop, and you whine, trying to continue, but his hands tighten around your waist, preventing you from doing anything.

“You what?” He breathes, staring with wide eyes. “Fill me up. Please,” you beg, and his eyes cloud over.

“You want that huh? You want me to spill my seed in you? Soak your walls white? Does my baby want that? Does she want a fucking kid?” He growls, thrusting up into you harder, and you mewl at his sudden ferocity.

Eagerly, you try to reposition yourself so you can help him, and in a daze grapple at whatever you can to ground yourself. Your hand tightens around his throat so you can hoist yourself up better and Chris splutters as his cock twitches inside you, his hand flying to your wrist in a panic.

“Well fuck that’s new,” he rasps, after you remove your hand swiftly, scared. “Sorry- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“I said that’s new baby, not that I didn’t like it,” he glares, and with a gentle assertion and raised eyebrows, he drags your hand back to curl around his throat, cock twitching again as you squeeze a little tighter.

“I didn’t know you-” you begin, as he picks up his pace again, matching with you.

“Yeah? Well neither did I-” he chokes out, knuckles white on your wrist, holding your hand in place, “Shit. Fuck. Ah you bastard. That’s my girl- shit cum with me baby,” he cries in between gasps for air, and the sight of him struggling to breathe thanks to you causes that building heat to snap.

You collapse forward and bite desperately at his shoulder, trying to instinctively muffle your ludicrous sounds of pleasure. You can feel Chris ejaculating thoroughly into you, his warm semen flooding your insides while you milk him through his high, your own juices coating him.

When you pull away, you rub at his shoulder where you bit him apologetically, thumb carefully stroking his neck too to make sure he’s okay, but his eyes are wild, and it’s only after you refocus on yourself do you realise that he’s still hard, nestled safely inside of you.

“Oh wow… no way…” you chuckle in amazement, as Chris pins you down onto the bed a little haphazardly.

“Don’t you ever- fucking silence yourself,” he growls, thrusting roughly into you. You gasp at the overstimulation, walls clenching despite your writhing. You absolutely know everything is a mess down there, his cum mixing with yours down your legs and his.

“Now unless your colour changes, I’m going to fuck you until I make you scream. I’ll fuck you into the next week, you won’t be able to walk for days you fucking slut. What’s your colour?” He demands, thrusting harshly into you again.

“Green- it’s-” your voice dies in your throat as Chris slams into you, again and again, the tip of his cock finding its way back to all those places that make your insides feel gooey. You’re trembling underneath him, and when he pushes your legs up for better access, a drawn-out whimper escapes you.

“You want more of my cum in you sweetheart?” He whispers harshly, and you mumble incoherently in agreement, “Oh… you don’t know what you’re getting into. ” “I do. I do-”

Chris places hot kisses all down your leg, his adoring actions contradicting his relentless abuse of your cunt, his foul mouth.

“Do you really? Because I’m going to breed you baby. I’m going to pump you so full that you’ll be pregnant by the fucking end of this.” You whimper and grip desperately at the sheets in response, and Chris pays it every bit of attention.

“You want that, huh? Want me to fuck you with my fingers as well? Make sure it stays in? Look at yourself, darling. Look at your stomach,” he commands, and with a gulp you look down to see his bulge disappearing in and out of your gut.

“Shit- Chris- you’re so- you’re so deep fuck- I’m gonna-” “I didn’t say you could,” he growls, nipping slightly at your skin. “Chris- but I- please.” “Beg harder,” he demands and you break.

“You’re a fucking shit,” you snap. “Only for you~” he coos, and it’s this that reminds you that he’s still the teasing Chris, still the same sweet man who wanted to learn how to make coffee with you all those years ago.

This version of Chris disappears in seconds though, his deepened voice returning, “I’m a shit because someone’s a brat,” he spits, reaching between your legs to grab your hand and place it on your stomach so you can feel how far his cock is plunging inside of you. This immediately destroys any remaining sense of self-preservation and dignity, and you resort to begging and pleading for your life, the effort of restraining your orgasm getting to your head.

“Okay slut. Cum for me,” he orders breathily, panting sporadically, his shirt soaked through with sweat. You groan in pleasure and finally allow yourself release, twitching and gasping underneath him. Your high makes you press down on your stomach unknowingly, and Chris’ breath hitches at the increased sudden pressure.

“I said- I said cum for me. Not make me cum,” he chokes out, his second orgasm of the night crashing into him unwillingly, his voice dying into an almost silent whimper.

He curses his way through it, rutting shallowly into you a few more times before he completely stills, his hands squeezing your thighs, needlessly babbling dirty words of affirmation and praise. "Amazing baby... so good f'me... so warm... fuck stop clenching- god you're fucking beautiful, my beautiful... absolutely perfect."

He releases your legs and they flop back around him, sore. Chris crawls up your body, trying to control his breathing, and rests himself gently onto you, peppering your neck lovingly with kisses and soothingly caressing your thighs.

“You okay honey?” he asks, eyes wide with worry at your silence. You smile at him and wrap your hands around his neck for a passionate kiss, mind blank at the feeling of him buried comfortingly inside you still.

“What happened to fucking me with your fingers afterwards?” You hum, knotting your hand into his sweaty hair. “No way are you still up for that. Your colour hasn’t-” “It’s green, love. I’m okay. I’ve only orgasmed three times.” “Only three. Jesus Christ only three?”

“Your colour, Chris?” You ask, kissing him on the nose. He pauses, a little shocked at being asked the question. “I’m- what- I mean- that system was meant for you-” “What’s your colour baby? Just answer the question.”

“Green,” he eventually mumbles, slipping out of you and sliding back down your body to replace his dick with his mouth and fingers.

After about a minute of you squirming and moaning loudly for him, he stops, looking at you with concern. “Yeobo, are you sure about this? You know how bad I am with self-restraint when I’m eating you,” he asks, licking his lips nervously.

“Then I’ll be just as bad when you’re buried in my throat too,” you grin, spreading your legs wider for him. “Shit," he pauses, "I’m not going to need to go to the gym tomorrow, am I?” He groans, returning back to your folds and attacking your clit with renewed gusto, his tongue lapping eagerly, three fingers already pumping into you.

“What do you mean? You can still go-oHHhh!” Chris hums in acknowledgement (and you die just a bit) and extricates himself from you long enough to say, “This is a workout in itself,” before returning to his task at hand.

And this night, my friends, is the night that Bahng Alexander Korain was brought into this world.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Bonus #4 -> Masterlist

A/N: If you don’t mf know who Alex is then you should be going back and reading the series smh. That’s why this is called a BONUS because if you read this after reading the series it is 10x better, trust.

Until next read! -Kaisowoo

[drewsephrry]

Hey 👋🏼🩵 You’re an extremely talented writer !

💋 #25. feeding each other their food - Fluff prompt list

JJ Maybank x fem

Tysm 😘

thank you so much sweets!!🤍🤍

2k celebration!!!

warnings: too much fluff lol

words: 745

It wasn’t uncommon for you and JJ to turn a quiet afternoon into something chaotic. The two of you had planned to have a simple lunch on the deck of the Chateau, but like everything else in your relationship, "simple" wasn’t in the cards.

The table between you was cluttered with food. Leftover fries, slices of fresh pineapple, a few chips and sandwiches. JJ leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on another as he tore into his sandwich with enthusiasm.

“You really couldn’t wait until I sat down to start eating?” You teased, placing your drink on the table and settling into the chair across from him. JJ looked up mid-bite, his grin sheepish.

“What? A guy’s gotta refuel. Surfing's a serious business, babe.” He replied and you scoffed.

“Yeah, for sure.” You said, rolling your eyes. “You mean the five minutes you actually spent on the board before wiping out?”

“Hey now.” JJ said, pointing at you with his sandwich. “Those were the most impressive five minutes anyone’s ever seen. Admit it.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Sure, Maybank. If face-planting into a wave counts as impressive.” You joked.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He quipped, shoving another bite into his mouth. Reaching for a fry, you dipped it into his ketchup, not bothering to ask. JJ didn’t even blink, continuing his exaggerated retelling of his surfing "victory." Absentmindedly, you picked up a slice of pineapple and held it out. JJ leaned forward and bit into it without hesitation, his blue eyes focused on yours as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“You could at least say thank you.” You said, raising a brow.

“Thanks, babe.” He replied, still chewing. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re stealing all the ketchup.” You grabbed a fry from his plate in retaliation.

“It’s my ketchup!” Ge argued, though his grin told you he wasn’t remotely serious. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm. JJ passed you a chip with guacamole and you handed him a bite of your sandwich. At some point, he reached over to wipe a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“You’re messy.” He teased, licking the sauce off his hand.

“Says the guy who’s wearing half his lunch.” You shot back, nodding at the smudge of mustard on his shirt. JJ glanced down and shrugged.

“Battle scars, baby.” He joked as your laughter echoed off the deck. Moments like this, simple, carefree and full of teasing, were what made you love JJ the way you did.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. John B and Pope walked into view, both stopping short when they caught sight of you and JJ.

“Are they… feeding each other?” Pope asked, blinking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Looks like it.” John B replied, his tone more amused than surprised. JJ turned to look at them, completely unfazed.

“You guys want something, or are you just here to judge our relationship?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re definitely here to judge.” John B said with a grin. “But seriously, do you two even realize what you’re doing?”

“Eating lunch?” JJ replied, feigning innocence.

“Feeding each other like you’re in some rom-com.” Pope clarified, smirking. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the way JJ’s hand had lingered near yours as he passed you another chip.

“We’re not—”

“We’re totally not.” JJ said at the same time, his ears turning pink. John B crossed his arms, his grin widening.

“You’re literally sharing bites of food without even noticing. That’s, like, peak couple behavior.”

“What can I say? We’re cute like that.” JJ shrugged, leaning back in his chair. You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Stop giving them more material to tease us with.” You said as JJ leaned over, his voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“What? It’s true. We are cute.” He added and you gave him a halfhearted glare, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“You’re impossible.” You murmured.

“And yet, you’re still here.” JJ said, his smirk softening into something more sincere. As Pope and John B eventually wandered off, still laughing, JJ reached across the table and stole one of your fries.

“Hey!” You protested.

“Sharing is caring, babe.” He said, popping it into his mouth with a wink. Despite your mock annoyance, you couldn’t help but smile.

A/N: hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it!! sorry it took so long!!

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Okay, fuck it Friday! Thanks for the tags @forthewolves @lover-of-mine @devirnis @rewritetheending @daffi-990! Here is a silly little fic I’m adding to the soft prompts collection!

Eddie pats down his jacket, making sure his wallet hasn’t magically teleported out of it in the hour or two since he took it off.

“The mint kind, dad, remember.”

“I got it.”

There’s the sound of glass clattering in the kitchen, ringing as loud as the laughter that accompanies it. In the living room there’s sudden cheering as one of the kids gets ahead of another in whatever video game they’ve set up. Beside him, Chimney is counting on his fingers.

“It’s-Its, mint kind. Drumsticks. Rocket pops. Bobby wants neapolitan. Those caramel chocolate bar things for Hen and Karen.”

“Are you going to have room in your freezer for all this?” Eddie wonders, thinking about how packed his own freezer is. He should really clean it out. Maybe Buck’ll come over next day off and help. He loves leftovers, and organizing.

“I’m fully expecting everyone to eat themselves sick so it won’t be a problem,” Chim shrugs. “Rocky road for you, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.” Chimney squints. “I can’t remember what Buck said.” He squints more specifically in Eddie’s direction, clearly waiting for a response.

And Eddie could say Well, Buck cycles through ice cream favorites every few weeks because he likes to try new things. It’s been white chocolate raspberry recently, but he might be ready to switch it up, it’s been long enough, and the kind he likes is sort of expensive so he would never ask you to get it for him, but that feels like the kind of statement that would get him that sort of raised eyebrow flat mouth look he doesn’t understand so he goes with “Uh, I’ll ask.”

Buck is leaning on the counter sandwiched between Hen and Bobby, half full drink in his hand entirely forgotten and listing a little dangerously to the left as he listens to Karen talk about a new project at work. He’s smiling like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, and his eyes are wide in the way they get when he’s absorbed in a story, and Eddie doesn’t want to interrupt but his son has no such qualms.

“Buck, are you gonna come take your turn on mario kart? Nobody can beat May.”

Buck’s smile turns into his Christopher smile, wide and eyes crinkly. “I’ll be there in a minute, bud. Save rainbow road for me.”

“Buck, what ice cream did you want?”

Buck’s attention flicks over to him. “Oh, I’ll just take one of the drumsticks or something.” A beat or two passes while Eddie makes an unimpressed face and Buck laughs, ducking his head. “Fine, I’ll- uh, if they have something coffee flavored that looks good I’ll take that.”

“Alright-“

“Oh, Eddie, while you’re there will you pick up more Doritos?” Maddie asks, waving cheesy fingers over an empty bowl.

“Sure.”

“Ooh, and barbecue chips?” Hen asks, head tilted to the side imploringly.

“Yeah, okay-“

“If you get an avocado or two I think there’s everything to make guacamole,” Bobby says thoughtfully.

“Uh-“

Buck grins at him. “I’ll text you a list.”

“Thank you,” Eddie grins back, and then turns to Chris. “Alright mijo, we’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” Chris says. “And can you get butter popcorn?”

“They’ve got the kernel kind, and a popper and everything.”

“I like the microwave kind,” Chris says, pouting a little. “It’s a party, dad.”

Eddie snorts, but also immediately gives in. “Fine. See you in a minute with your nasty popcorn, sir.”

He leans down to kiss Chris' forehead, leans up to kiss Buck, pats his pocket one more time (wallet still there) and then heads down the hallway. Chimney is standing there frozen, so Eddie steps around him towards the door. He’s probably trying to think of his own chip preference, like he’s not as big of a Doritos fan as Maddie is. Eddie wonders if the corner store they’re going to will have the salt and vinegar chips Buck likes-

Buck-

Eddie feels a strange sensation like all his muscles locking up for a moment, before he slowly turns around.

“What did I… just… do?”

Chimney — who, there it is, he’s making the face, eyebrows raised and mouth flat, though it looks slightly more hysterical than usual — shakes his head and throws up his hands in a shrug. Helpful. Eddie stumbles the few steps back towards the kitchen. Buck is talking to Karen now, though everyone else in the room is also making the face with varying levels of giddy intensity. When Bobby sees Eddie come back in the room he has to hide his expression behind his glass of orange juice.

“-never knew that worms played such an important part in-“ Buck’s voice suddenly squeaks to a halt mid sentence, and he whips around to stare open mouthed at Eddie in the doorway. “Did- did you?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Is that- uh. Is that okay?”

“Y- yeah, Eddie- yeah.”

Buck moves towards him and Eddie is pulled in his direction like a magnet. They meet in the middle of the kitchen and grab each other’s hands. Eddie is vaguely aware of Maddie’s muffled giggling somewhere to his right, but it doesn’t seem to matter very much at the moment.

“Should-" Buck looks and sounds absolutely confused, and is clinging tight to his hands. "Should we get married?”

“What?” Eddie laughs, remembering the time he’d held Julia Stanton’s hand in kindergarten and she’d told him that meant they were husband and wife. “I- we only just-“ but, suddenly, he imagines it. Being married to Buck. Waking up to him every day, and doing taxes together. It’s all he wants, it’s what he wants more than anything. “Okay,” he says, nodding his head in a frantic yes. “Yeah. Alright.”

“Oh, lord,” Bobby laughs in the background, setting his glass on the counter so he can rest his hands on his knees. Hen rubs his back, other hand covering her face as she tries not to lose it.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, looking stunned, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Yes, I’d- I want- you’re beautiful.” Eddie lets go of one of Buck’s hands — oh, he thinks he’d like to hold his hand forever, why did they never do this before — and puts his palm on Buck’s cheek, tracing under his eye with his thumb. “I gotta go get ice cream first though.”

“Oh my god,” says Karen, voice strangled.

“I’ll go with you,” Buck decides, but then Chimney is there with his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Oh no,” he says, “We let the two of you go and we’ll lose you in the night, and then there will be no ice cream and the children will riot.”

“You’re the one who was demanding drumsticks in the first place,” Eddie points out, not even looking away from Buck’s face.

“And I will join the mob with the pitchforks. Let’s go, lover boy.” Chimney leans over to pat Buck's arm. "I promise I'll get your- jesus, are we accepting that as an actual proposal- yeah? Okay- I'll get your fiancé back swiftly and in one piece."

Eddie can do nothing but grin dumbly back at Buck as Chimney all but drags him outside. There are stars out, sort of, as many as you ever get in a city as big as Los Angeles, and Eddie feels a strange urge to write poetry about them.

"Did you know I was in love with him?"

"Had a pretty good idea," Chim says, voice strained.

"Why didn't I know that?"

Chimney hacks a cough into his elbow. "I- I really couldn't possibly answer that."

It's taking Eddie a tremendous amount of effort to put one foot in front of the other in the right order. "I feel like I'm drunk."

Chimney claps him on the shoulder. "You're going through a lot of change."

Eddie thinks about it for a moment. "No, I'm not."

“Hm?”

Chimney spins around to face Eddie as he stops walking all together. “It’s… I mean, we might get to kiss now,” Eddie says, pulse suddenly feverish as he considers that for a few seconds. He shakes his head to get back on track. “But… It’s Buck. Haven’t… I mean… It’s always been like this. My life is his already.”

Chimney is making a new face now, still a smile but it’s twisted up sideways and his eyes are a little watery. He throws his head back with a wet scoffing sound and hooks his arm through Eddie’s, tugging him along again. “Well, what the fuck, I’m stupidly happy for you. Unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” Eddie laughs, leaning into him a little. “Oh shit, I- I have to get a ring.”

Chimney cackles into his shoulder. “Might be a difficult find at the corner store, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

When they stagger through the doors of the 24 hour market a few blocks from Maddie and Chimney’s place the bored clerk looks at them like they are drunk, and Eddie tries to take a few steadying breaths. “I’ll get ice cream, you grab snacks?”

Chimney nods, and they split up. Eddie stares down at the freezer and tries to remember any list of anything he’s ever learned in his life before his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Buck 8:43 PM Mint It’s-Its, drumsticks, rocket pops, neapolitan, caramel bars, rocky road, coffee ice cream?, Doritos, barbecue chips, avocados (and tortilla chips please), microwave popcorn

Buck 8:44 PM also I didn’t say it but I love you Eddie

Buck 8:44 PM sorry I should have waited for you to get back to say it maybe but

Buck 8:45 PM I just wanted you to know it. I didn’t want there to be any more time where you didn’t know it.

Eddie’s breath catches somewhere between lungs and throat. He’s standing close enough to the freezer box that he can feel it’s hum in his knees, or maybe that’s just Buck.

“Hey, Diaz.”

Eddie turns in time to catch the small package Chimney tosses at him. Peach rings. Eddie laughs a little helplessly.

Eddie 8:47 PM i am going to be back so soon and tell you in person but me too buck

Eddie grabs all the ice cream in record time if anyone ever recorded the time for such things, and the rest of the trip feels like a race. He taps his foot as the poor clerk scans everything while shooting him vaguely unimpressed looks, and he’s at least a few feet ahead of Chimney the whole walk back. Finally, the door, finally the hallway, finally Eddie is bursting back into the kitchen. Buck is standing with Bobby’s arm around his shoulders and Chris leaning against his side and he looks lit up with happiness, smile practically glowing. Eddie feels an answering one on his own face.

“Here,” he says, holding the ice cream bag out sideways and hoping someone will take it. Karen does, with a snort. “Oh, uh, wait-“ Eddie leans over to dig for the bag of gummies, grabbing his prize and grinning at her. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she laughs, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before starting to dig out the ice cream for distribution.

When Eddie looks up Buck has moved to stand in front of him. “Hi.”

Buck ducks his head like his smile is too heavy to hold it up anymore. “Hi, Eds.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, taking the half step necessary to press close to him all over. “Hey, I love you. I love you, too. I didn’t realize, but I absolutely do.”

Buck laughs, what a wonderful sound, and wipes his eyes with one hand. “I love you so much, Eddie.”

“Okay!” Laughter goes up around them. “Okay, I have-“ Eddie tears open the plastic, fishes out a single peach ring. “It’s the best I could do short notice.”

“What…” Buck looks down at the candy, and then starts laughing and crying harder as Eddie grabs his hand and does his best to roll the gummy circle onto his ring finger. “Wait, I- I was the one who proposed.”

“There’s a whole bag of them,” Eddie says, waving it around. “You wanna-“

“Yeah, uh huh-“ Buck takes a peach ring of his own, slides it onto Eddie’s finger, and it’s truly ridiculous but even in this Buck treats him so gently, cradling Eddie’s hand like it’s a precious thing. It makes Eddie feel a little lightheaded. The sugar of the gummy is gritty against his skin, and he has to hold his fingers weird to accommodate the bulk of it, but Buck is looking at them like they’d just exchanged diamonds, and Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever been in a more perfect moment. But then Buck leans down and Eddie moves forward and they’re kissing, really kissing, Buck’s arms sliding around his waist like they’re meant to fit there and Eddie cradling his face between his hands, and Chris shouts in delighted disgust and there’s cheering and more laughter around them, and Eddie thinks, stunned, that he might get a life of perfect moments with this man.

They are surrounded by friends and family, so Buck pulls back before either of them can really get lost in each other. “You’re sure?” He whispers. “You don’t have to- I was just- you actually want to get married?”

“Yes,” Eddie says immediately. “And also come home, please. Every day, like- move in with me. You don’t have to use the couch.”

Chimney snorts behind them. Buck nods, and they’re close enough that his nose almost pokes Eddie in the eye. “Yeah, yeah- I wanna come home.”

Eddie kisses him again — perfect, the way their lips fit together is perfect — and then looks for Chris. “Hey, mijo, you wanna have a sleepover?”

“Sure,” Chris says, “With who?”

“Uh.” Eddie cranes to look around Buck at anyone else in the room.

“We’ll take him,” Hen says, raising a hand and looking extremely amused and entirely fond.

“With Denny,” Eddie says to Chris.

“Okay,” Chris says, crunching his face up. “I don’t want to be there if you’re going home to make out.”

“We absolutely are,” Eddie says, as Buck sputters a little. He disentangles himself from Eddie and crouches in front of Chris.

“Chris… I just want to make sure this is okay with you. I- I love your dad very much, and I love you so much, and if it makes you uncomfortable-“

“Buck,” Chris says, slightly exasperated, as he wraps his arms around his shoulders in a hug. “I love you, too. And I kind of thought you were married for awhile when I was little, so you’re just catching up.”

“Oh,” Buck says, watery. “Yeah?”

“You take care of us,” Chris says, leaning back to look at him. “And you’re at our house all the time.”

Buck laughs, and Eddie’s lungs stutter along with him. “Well, okay then. I’ll keep doing both of those things. Sounds good?”

“Sounds good,” Chris says, already looking towards the living room. “Are you going to play Mario kart, now?”

“Uh,” Buck says, looking up at Eddie. “Is it okay if I take a rain check on that?”

Chris heaves a sigh. “Fine, but you better practice for next time. May still hasn’t lost.”

“And I’m not going to!” She calls from the other room. “Also, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Buck and Eddie call together. Buck gives Chris another hug, and Eddie squeezes him tight as he makes his way to the living room.

“Bye, Superman. We’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

Buck takes his hand again. Eddie wants to kiss him again, but he thinks once he starts he might never stop. “Anybody mind if we duck out early?” He asks the room at large, fully planning on backing out the door no matter what the answer is.

Chimney pats his arm. “Please for the love of god leave my home.”

“Got it,” Eddie says, pulling a giggling Buck towards the door.

“Paperwork!” Bobby calls. “Monday! And don’t get married until I can get everyone the day off!”

“I-“ Eddie looks into Buck’s eyes, kisses him once on the cheek because they’re in the hallway and no one can see them anymore probably. “I’m not gonna make any promises about that.”

“Wait-“

“Bye!” Buck calls, cheerfully, and then they’re out on the front porch.

And, well, they’re really out of sight of the others now, so Eddie pulls him down for another kiss, intent on finding out what his molars taste like, but then the door is opening again.

“Gross,” Chimney says. “Take your ice cream with you.”

Rocky road and coffee, still cold but getting warmer, land not entirely gracefully in Eddie’s arms. The door closes again. “I told him he wouldn’t have freezer room. These are gonna melt.”

Buck takes his tub, grinning a mile wide. “We better get home quick, then.”

“For the ice cream,” Eddie nods, cheeks hurting with his smile.

“Yep.” Buck says. “The ice cream.”

They clasp their free hands together, and then, breathless and laughing, run to the car.

It’s kind of late but if anyone is still around and has stuff to post (you could also consider this as being tagged for inspiration Saturday if you want) @callaplums @shortsighted-owl @buckactuallys @shitouttabuck @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @bigfootsmom @henswilsons @homerforsure

[guacamolleee]

welcome to thedasweekend :D how about "magical exhaustion" from the heavy content prompt list, with your ship of choice?

Thank you for the prompt!!! I'm gonna combine this with the kiss prompt from @seigephoenix. For @thedasweekend

Not gonna lie, this one kinda grew legs and ran away from me. I started with "hm I'll keep this under 500" which turned into "let's do 1k only", then into this...

Set post-Tearstone Island, so spoilers ahead. Angst (with a happy ending!). 2,284 words.

“What the fuck just happened?” Taash’s horrified whisper was loud in Emmrich’s ear, the sky rumbling above them just as Rook blinked out of existence, Lucanis still prone on the ground but breathing.

“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here — now!” Davrin pulled Emmrich by the arm. He resisted, trying to reach the spot he last saw Rook. Davrin tugged him harder. “Come on!”

“Rook, she— The rift—”

“We’ll figure something out. She won’t want you stuck here.”

Neve and Taash helped Lucanis up, gripping him tight as he leaned heavily on one side, gritting his teeth. Taash’s hands were shaking, Neve’s mouth set into a grim line.

They ran, the sky spitting fire above them as Elgar’nan raged at his sister’s death. Emmrich could scarcely remember how his feet carried him — Davrin or Neve or Taash or someone, he couldn’t even recall who, steering him through the Eluvian as his heart lodged itself into the pit of his stomach.

Behind them, Solas stepped out of the rift, lyrium dagger in hand.

***

Bellara. Harding. Rook. His Rook. Just… gone. How could this be?

His companions argued around him.

“Solas is in Minrathous?” Taash was furious. Emmrich could almost see the smoke coming out of their mouth.

“Last I heard. The people are even calling him a hero, defending the city against Elgar’nan’s forces.” Neve's hands were tight around her cup. “Funny that.”

“How did he get out of the prison?” Davrin asked.

“Rook, I think.”

“No.” Taash’s voice was hard. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does. Think about it.” Neve placed her cup on the coffee table, legs crossing on the couch. “Rook disappears, then we hear Solas is out and about waltzing in Minrathous. There are reports he’s using a dagger made of lyrium — the one we last saw Rook pulling out of Ghilan’nain at Tearstone Island.”

“He used his connection to Rook, pulling her into the Fade so he could escape,” Emmrich concluded, voice subdued, the icy hands of fear and regret gripping him. The fool he was, spending his last conversation with Rook arguing. Emmrich should have told her he loved her, should have spent the night mapping out apologies on her skin until she was breathless. Would that have made this heartache better or worse? There was little point wondering now, but he could not help himself.

“Yes.” Neve turned to him, face softening. “Emmrich, I’m sorry.”

Emmrich did not answer her.

***

It had been a week now. Emmrich had stopped drinking tea by the third day, needing something stronger to keep him awake. He switched it for a copious amount of coffee, whatever Lucanis had available in the kitchen, taking a pot for himself and spending the day holed up in his laboratory.

He left the Lighthouse only once — traveling to the Necropolis and digging through his personal library, grunting in frustrating at the useless things. Papers upon papers on etheric flows and transfusions, sub-astral navigation, autotelic bonds, and a thousand other things that could not help him now.

It took an hour of fruitless searching before he made his way to the Necropolis main library instead, eyes darting from one title to the next, fingers full of paper cuts as he skimmed through tome after tome for something, anything useful.

And still — he was no closer to finding Rook.

When he returned to the Lighthouse, face in his hands, Emmrich wept. Nails bit into the skin of his forehead, palms pressed into his eyes as he broke down quietly, one shuddering breath after the other stolen out of his lungs. He allowed himself a few useless minutes of wallowing before he went back to work.

Even Johanna let him be, for once, a silent watcher.

***

Sometimes, Emmrich felt guilty for not caring more.

Not for Rook, no. The heavy stone of guilt had settled deep in his gut, desperation gnawing on his bones like fate’s favorite chew toy.

But for Harding. For Bellara.

Dead and missing. Taken from their little group just as easily as Rook had been.

Neve visited Bellara’s room every day, sipping coffee and staring at the gadgets and artifacts strewn about. No one was quite sure what system of organization it followed, but Bellara could always make sense of the mess. Flitting about like the hummingbird her brother called her. The silence was far too loud in her absence.

Meanwhile, Taash rarely left their room now. On the few occasions he would pass by, he would hear grunting, the sound of steel hitting the floor again and again. And when they did go, it was off with Davrin or one of the others, only to come home smelling like blood. He didn’t dare disturb them.

Three souls for the price of one so-called god.

Was it worth it?

Were the scales balanced in whatever cosmic game they were in?

Did the Maker, in all his knowledge and in all his silence, deem this fair?

Emmrich tried not to think about it.

***

One day, he found a letter on his desk, a wisp hovering near it curiously. His name was embossed on the back in Rook's curled, loopy handwriting.

He opened it without thinking.

Emmrich, If you're reading this, then something terrible has happened. I hope you can only forgive me. Know that I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. There was so much I still wanted to do with you. I wanted to celebrate our victory, pop open a bottle of your best Antivan red and get drunk on my couch. And once the hangover wore off, I wanted you to take me home, show me your books, your collections, your bed. I wanted to plant lilacs in your garden. Then I wanted to marry you, exchange our gold in the big Chantry in Nevarra City or our living room, it wouldn't have mattered. Then we'd have a baby. Or two. Or three. My hair, your eyes. It would have been perfect. And perhaps it’s selfish of me to say this, especially now, and I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me for this too — but I'm glad I went first. I died in love, and I will stay that way forever. Even my last thoughts were of you, I'm sure of it, and I do not have to live in a world where you do not exist. I am so grateful for that. I love you, Emmrich Volkarin. The Veil separates us now, my love, but it is thin. Press your hand against it and know I am always reaching back, my love against yours. I hope that is how you remember me — the woman who loved you, who will love you still, even across death. When your time comes — and I pray it doesn’t for a long while yet — do not fear it. It will be a joyful reunion. With enduring affection, Your Rook P.S. Please make sure they don't set me on fire. Cremation doesn't suit my complexion.

No.

No, no, no.

Emmrich balled the letter in his fist, gritting his teeth, inexplicable anger rising to the surface before he tempered it. He smoothed out the letter, gentle this time as if in apology, reading it again. And again. And again.

Rook was not dead. This letter should have never found its way into his hands, and a steely determination gripped him. He was going to find her.

***

Emmrich had a plan — a breakthrough, one could call it — and the answer was lyrium. A staggering amount of it.

He outlined his plan to the group. Rook was in the Fade and they needed a way to get her out. Among the most reliable ways to do so was to create a Fade tear, a rift just large enough to pull her through in a place where the Veil was thin and where she would likely be on the other side. He had already found a few powerful spirits in the Necropolis willing to help search for such a place. They had always been fond of Rook.

But to create the tear itself, they needed something powerful. Blood was what the magisters of old used to enter the Black City. That was not an option. Neither was Johanna’s method of trapping spirits in her Gloaming Lantern. That left two other things — Solas’ magic and lyrium.

While they did not have Solas himself, and he doubted the man would be willing anyway, both Bellara and Emmrich kept detailed notes on the dagger — drawings, potential schematics, outlines of the etched runes, the etheric flows, materials they could identify.

It should be enough to recreate it — create their own lyrium dagger.

(Ambitious, he thought to himself, and he could almost hear Johanna taunting him about recreating original sin just for a paramour or some other nonsense. But for Rook, he would gladly do so.)

Neve was quick to agree — it was their best bet, and the rest came around quickly. Davrin helped source the lyrium from Kal-Sharok, the dwarves willing to lend their aid, both in Harding’s memory and in return for all of Rook’s help.

Emmrich was immensely grateful and, for the first time in what felt like eternity, his chest lightened by a fraction, a small seed of hope planted.

***

It took another week and a half to recreate the dagger as close as he could — unrefined, unstable, but not useless.

Emmrich gripped it tight, hands shaking so much he was almost afraid he’d drop it. Where would they be if he did? Another week wasted, perhaps. He leaned heavily on his desk, one hand clutching it for balance, the wood almost creaking under his fingertips. He could only stare at the dagger — it was pretty, he admitted, though the blue glow of the lyrium was more subdued than the real thing and it buzzed uncomfortably in his hand like electricity ready to pop.

Unrefined. Unstable. But not useless. Emmrich repeated it in his head until the words lost their meaning and the world began to blur around him. He shook it off.

It would be enough.

He prayed it would be enough.

***

The ritual site.

“This damned place,” Neve said under her breath. “Where it all started.”

Neve, Emmrich, and Lucanis spread out — finding the place where the Veil was thinnest using their magic or, in Lucanis’ case, Spite. Davrin and Taash stayed close to the mages, weapons out, watching for any sign of trouble.

Emmrich climbed the stairs, one hand gripping his staff, the other stretched out, pressing against the Veil. He remembered Rook's letter — he would find her reaching back to him, he was sure of it.

Then — a snag, a place his fingers could nearly pass through, his magic flaring, itching under his skin.

“This way. It’s thinner here!” he called out to the others.

Taash was beside him, readying their axes in case something goes wrong. “You better be right.”

He nodded, grim, then he took the dagger from his belt.

Raising it high, he poured his magic into it, following the lines etched under its surface, willing it to do as he bade. For a moment — nothing, just the buzz of magic in his ear, powerful and potent, amplified by the dagger until he nearly went deaf.

Then it caught, notching into an unseen barrier, digging into the Veil. Emmrich felt it, resonating deep in his bones, making his teeth clatter, and he pulled down with all his strength.

“They’re waiting for you.” Emmrich heard a distant voice, unable to recognize it. “Just take it one step at a time.”

“Goodbye, Varric… and thank you.”

Rook! It was Rook’s voice and Emmrich felt his heart soar, pounding hard in his chest, blood rushing around his ears.

Lucanis came up behind him, the quickest of them all, hearing the voice as well. His breath hitched. “Rook!”

Then Emmrich saw it — something bright, a shape of a woman and a dwarf. “There! A light.”

Lucanis called to the others, hands on top of Emmrich’s before thrusting both their hands into the tear, the dagger flying behind them and hitting the ground with a clatter. They felt an arm latch onto theirs. “We've got something. Get ready,” Lucanis shouted.

Taash threw their axes to the ground, seizing Rook’s arm and pulling. Neve and Davrin were behind them, arms around Lucanis and Taash, pulling at their signal. “Heave!”

The Fade tear resisted, unwilling to give Rook up for a heart stilling second, before abruptly giving way — and the entire group came tumbling down to the ground, Davrin catching Neve as she nearly fell down the stairs.

And Rook.

Rook.

Rook.

She was in Emmrich’s arms, gasping, and he narrowed to just the feel of her, Emmrich turning blind to the rest of the world.

“Rook, darling, oh, my darling.” He clutched her cheeks, drinking in her face, the cuts and bruises from Tearstone Island still somehow fresh. He would have to inspect those closer later — but now.

Now, the universe righted itself again, and he crashed his lips into Rook’s unheeding of the rest of the team that wanted her attention. This he would be selfish in. This he needed more than anything or anyone. The inelegant clash of their teeth, lips smushed together as wetness poured down his cheeks.

“Emmrich, Emmrich.” Her sweet voice grew distant. He panicked as the edges of his vision blurred. “Emmrich!”

The strain of the last fortnight caught up to him, the dagger having drained the last of his reserves. Emmrich swayed and the world tilted around him. The last thing he saw was Rook’s face — though he couldn’t say he minded that one bit.

[comfort-character-central]

Imagine your f/o stroking your cheek/face with their thumb, their eyes lit up like the most beautiful constellation of stars in the sky. And it's all because of you.

[xpau-official]

Time for a party survey!

We love hearing from you!

[v-writes]

Living for Lunch

Phic Phight 2025

Prompt: Danny wakes up in middle of the night and turns on the TV. When did Lunch Lady get her own cooking show? by @miss-nov

Word Count: 2979

Read on Ao3

"Might I ask about the oatmeal dearie?"

The Lunch Lady's voice rings from the TV, freezing Danny on the couch, midnight snack and glad of water instantly forgotten.

"Oh yes, well, the meatloaf needs a binding ele- oh you mean why oatmeal and not breadcrumbs?"

The Lunch Lady nods sweetly, and the- guest? Contestant? Danny had missed the introduction when he turned on the TV responds, "it's just what my mom always used growing up," she starts nervously excited, but levels out as she measures out two cups of oatmeal into the casserole dish, as she straightens Danny sees a name tag that reads 'Connie' and 'she/her', "I know breadcrumbs are more common now, but I never really questioned it as a kid. And now oatmeal is just nostalgic in a way that breadcrumbs aren't. Plus I'll use oats for breakfast more often than I'll bread things, so it's not worth it to buy breadcrumbs for me."

"I can certainly respect sticking to tradition. If you did want to experiment but didn't want to buy a container of breadcrumbs that you won't finish, might I suggest saving and freezing the ends of loafs of breads? So many people dislike the ends but they can be used in all sorts of things outside of sandwiches."

"Oh like you do for stuffing? I guess I could, and I have bread like that in the deep freeze in the garage, but for the meatloaf…"

"But for the meatloaf that wouldn't be your mother's recipe, I understand. What are we adding after the oats?"

"Oh well I've got the vegetables pre chopped here, but at it's base it's two cups of celery and two cups of carrots, but you can add things to taste, and this is the main thing I change from how my mom made it."

"Change?"

Danny tenses at the Lunch Lady's tone, has to remind himself this isn't a live broadcast and they probably wouldn't be playing it if anything had gone wrong.

"Well yeah, my Mom was cooking for a gaggle of picky kids, but I'm just cooking for me and my friends. I don't need to chop the veggies fine enough to hide them like she did, and I like vegetables. So we've got the classic carrots and celery, plus jalapenos for some kick and then onions. So technically we're using the two cups of celery and carrots each that the recipe says, and a cup of each of jalapenos and onions."

"What type of onion?"

"I well, I typically just grab red, but uh, does it matter?"

The Lunch Lady smiles softly as she answers, "for a meatloaf or any roasted meat I would choose a yellow onion first, but it's all to personal taste, I wouldn't consider any onion you prefer to be the wrong choice, especially not when showing off a sentimental recipe. Red onions are typically considered the best choice for burgers or any instance of eating them raw, and they work great as a pop of color in a salsa or guacamole."

"Oh if they're the best raw that's probably why I grab them, my mom loved just cutting up onion and bell peppers as a snack so it was just what I thought of first as an onion choice."

"That's very sweet. For those watching at home other vegetables to add could be mushrooms or bell peppers, potatoes can also works as a secondary binding agent. Some prefer to cook the vegetables first, but we're leaving them raw today. Meatloaves are a very forgiving dish, so feel free to experiment, but I do recommend keeping at least the base of carrots and celery, it's not a hamburger patty, and it will benefit from the variety of texture and they'll add to a richer more complex flavor for the meatloaf."

Connie mumbles something unintelligible as she grabs something from the fridge.

"Hmm?" Lunch Lady prompts politely. Politely?

"Oh I was saying, well it's kind of mean but she doesn't live in Amity anyway, so she won't see this, that's only true if you want a good meatloaf. I attended a dinner party at a friend's once and I swear the meatloaf was only ground beef and ketchup."

"What."

"Maybe some salt and pepper."

"What. What did they use as a binding agent?"

"As far as I can tell? Hopes and Prayers."

Lunch Lady twitches where she floats, bringing her hands together in a prayer motion she asks, "surely, there were breadcrumbs at least."

Connie shakes her head. "The prayers went unanswered. And I offered to host after that."

Lunch Lady freezes for a long moment.

"What do we add after the veggies?"

"Three eggs, and then the sauce."

"The sauce?"

"Yeah I save the ketchup and salsa for last since I'm typically using just one cup measure to save on dishes, so the wet ingredients after the dry ones, my Mom's recipe written down says three cups ketchup and a half cup salsa, but-"

"But you said in your email" the Lunch Lady has a fucking email? Danny feels his worldview shift around him as he fumbles for his phone in his pajama bottoms, "that you were doing a spicier take on the recipe! When cooking for a larger group you often have to take precautions in the seasoning department, avoiding allergies and anything too extreme, but I am always thrilled to see the directions people will go when cooking for themselves."

Tucker answers loyally, if blearily, after the third ring, "M here, where's the fire?"

"Turn your tv to the mom channel now. Not the Hallmark one the local reality tv one." Danny replies.

"Bro, what? It's almost two in the morning, what is-"

"Now Tucker! And get Sam on the line and tuned to the channel ASAP!"

Tucker grumbles as whoever the fuck this Connie person is continues teaching the Lunch Lady her mom's meatloaf recipe, she explains using three cups of salsa and one to one and a half cups of ketchup, something about adding more liquid since she added more vegetables, and her preferred salsa comes in 3 cups so she just uses the whole jar.

"Ok, mom channel but not hallmark, uh, what is this a cooking show?"

"Yes! The cooking show! Look at the host!"

"Dude. What the fuck." Tucker sounds fully awake at last. "That's a lot of vegetables for a meatloaf."

"That's what you're worried about?"

"Am I needed for medical attention or fight backup?"

"What? No-"

"Then let me wake up at my own speed dude-"

Sam's voice rings over the call a moment after a click indicating her connection. "What the fuck is the Lunch Lady doing on a cooking show?"

"Thank you! I don't know, I was having trouble going back to sleep after the last ghost fight, i turned on the tv while getting water and a snack and then the world stopped making sense!"

"At least the guest is adding a good amount vegetables, I wouldn't touch a meatloaf regardless but a meatloaf needs stuff like carrots to retain moisture and not dry out."

"Sam you are insane-"

Danny tunes the two of them out, tuning back into Connie talking about how growing up ideally it would be half venison and half ground beef, but without someone in the family who hunts she sticks with three pounds of ground beef.

"And do you have a preference for the fat to lean ratio of the ground beef?"

"I normally get ground chuck, so 80% lean 20% fat, but I don't think I can actually tell the difference."

Tucker cuts off his rant on the virtues of meat to snap at his tv, "oh there is absolutely a difference, how did you get on a cooking show?"

"By emailing in an idea, apparently." Sam responds cooly.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah it says to email in episode ideas on the Instagram page."

"Instagram?"

Connie and Lunch Lady have moved on to mixing in spices as you mix the meatloaf, more effective if you just wash your hands and knead it directly on the dish rather than try and use a spatula and mixing bowl. "My mom just did a teaspoon of onion powder, garlic, and seasoned salt, but I like to add chili powder, paprika, and cayenne powder."

"Yup." Sam pops the 'p' as she answers, "it's the same as the show title but without the spaces, 'living for lunch'. Oh that's a cute logo, it's like if 'dying' was originally written but then crossed out with 'living' tacked on. It seems to be some local deal about highlighting family or sentimental recipes. Explains the kitchen too."

"The kitchen?" Danny asks.

"Danny, dude that is not a professional set. Like sure it's been cleaned well enough, but there are magnet notes on the fridge and just a weird setup for a kitchen designed for a cooking show."

"Tucker?"

"What you think you can get to be a meat connoisseur like me without being well informed? I know my way around a kitchen and a cooking show."

"It honestly hadn't occurred to me Tuck."

"Damn." Sam cuts in. "She's got more followers than Phantom does."

"What?" Danny can't believe this is where the insult creeps in, but here he is, sleep deprived, thirsty, and bruised, and he's wondering over the follower count. "How does she have more followers than me?"

"Excuse you, you mean more followers than me," Tucker intervenes, "you lost the rights to Phantom's account after you mixed up your hero and civilian accounts."

"Dude that was one time-"

"You're lucky I caught it first!"

"I am! And thank you for managing it, but I can be trusted with it."

"Hmmmm. Maybe you're right. Sam. Thoughts?"

"Fuck no."

"You heard the lady. No instagram for Phantom."

Connie rinses her hands after evenly mixing the meatloaf into an even spread in the casserole dish. "Now before we put this into the oven-"

"which if you were following along at the beginning should be preheated to 350 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Right, in college I would do 355 but ovens just kinda vary, and Meatloaf cooks slow, start at 90 minutes and go from there."

"Oh I'm sorry dearie, I cut you off on the final step before the oven."

"Right. The secret ingredient to an excellent meatloaf, we are going to drizzle the top with both ketchup and honey."

"Honey?"

"Yes! Ideally a local variety, this may be an old wives tale, but I've found it works. Eating local honey can help with pollen allergies since it is made with the local pollen. If you don't care about local vs generic it doesn't matter that much but I've been buying local from the same farmer's market stall for years, and they knew my mom before me, so it's also just…"

"Tradition?"

"Oh my god." Tucker mutters.

"Hmmm." Sam notes, "I can certainly respect buying local over the big brand names-"

Sounding horrified Tucker continues, "I think my mom watches Lunch Lady's cooking show. Honey?"

"Yes!" Connie's excitement bulldozes over Tucker's realization. "And it's just good for tying the whole thing together, I mean sweet and savory, and then sweet and spicy are common flavor combinations, it's a good complement for the rest of the dish!"

Lunch Lady smiles brightly, "I can't wait to try it."

A cutesy animation of a tin lunchbox spinning into frame fills the screen, it opens to anthropomorphic for running out of the box.

When the cartoon food have fled the screen the Lunch Lady and Connie are sitting around a kitchen table, two servings of meatloaf on plates in front of them with the serving dish in the center of the table and a binder between the two women.

"Tell me more about why you chose this recipe for the show, dearie?"

"Well it's a go to dish for me, for a lot of reasons, there's the classic meatloaf strengths, it makes large portions, it's a well rounded meal, it freezes well, and it's really easy to make. I mean it's basically just measure, mix, bake. I'm not a professional chef like you," Lunch Lady preens under the praise as Connie continues, "but you don't need to be to be able to eat well."

"Very true!" Lunch Lady opens the binder, camera cutting to show the handwritten recipe, "but that's true of any meatloaf. Why is this meatloaf special?"

The camera cuts back to Connie, smiling softly. "Because every time I make it I think of my mom, and even though I've changed it, it's still hers in my heart."

"I'm sure she is proud to know you love her cooking so much to want to share it."

Connie flinches, looking away, Lunch Lady's eyes widen in understanding. Taking Connie's hand in hers she says, "I'm so sorry. Was it recent?"

"Kinda," Connie's voice is weak, but steady, "there was a car accident, almost two years, I, enough time has passed that I thought I'd be able to handle talking about her recipes without, well" she gestures at herself blinking back tears, "but it still feels so fresh. You're, you're a ghost, would you be able to find her?"

Danny tenses, secondhand uneasiness rising in him at the question he dreads the most from Amity residents.

"Oh dear, it's not that simple, not everyone becomes a ghost, and even if she did the Infinite Realms are impossible to search fully."

"But if she's there? If I could find her?"

"And if she were like me, and changed in death?"

"Changed?"

"Dearie, I don't even remember my name. I remember some things I cared about, know I worked at Casper High and designed the menu. But I look at my name credited with that in ledger and records and I feel nothing. If your mother were in the Ghost Zone I'm sure she would have tried to come to you once the portal opened, even if I or anyone else could track her down, do you think the woman who taught you this recipe would thank me for introducing you to someone who didn't look for you?"

"I just, I miss her so much, I-" Connie is suddenly much closer to tears than she was moments ago.

"Shh, I know dear. I know. Eat the meatloaf."

"What?"

"Eat the meatloaf!"

"Ah, okay!" Connie shoves a rushed bite into her mouth.

"Slow down dearie. Have some more."

Connie obeys at a less frazzled pace, staring at her plate with still wet eyes.

Lunch Lady leans forward, placing a hand on Connie's shoulder.

"And now she is here, isn't she?" Connie startles, looking sharply to Lunch Lady as she continues, "those we love never truly leave us, and food is such a lovely way to remember and honor them. She is with you every time you cook for her like this, and now" she nods towards the camera, "viewers at home can honor her as well."

Connie smiles, pulling Lunch Lady into a hug, "thank you."

Lunch Lady rubs Connie's back, "thank you. If you're not up to sharing your Grandfather's cookie recipe as well we can reschedule that."

Connie pulls back, wiping her eyes with a towel someone hands her from off screen. "No I'd like to continue. Besides it'll be familiar to people, it's basically the toll house recipe from the back of the bag, but he modified it enough to be distinct, and I want to share it."

Another transition sequence takes the show back to the counter.

"So what are we going to do about Lunch Lady?" Tucker asked as Connie begins telling a story of baking with her grandfather as a child.

What should be done about it, Danny thought.

And he had only one answer for that

~~~

Paulina cuts Stars story off the moment she sees the notification that Phantom has posted something, pulling

Opening the ghost boy's feed she watches the video he uploaded with rapt attention.

The video opens to a digital timer counting down, once zero is hit the camera pans out, showing an oven, is that Casper High's home ec classroom? Phantom comes into frame, opening the oven he presents the baking sheet of cookies to the camera with a flourish.

The camera cuts to Phantom placing the cookies onto a cooling rack full of chocolate chip cookies. He takes a cookie from the pile nodding to himself as he takes a bite.

"You know, Connie, I was a little skeptical at first when you mentioned coffee creamer in the recipe, but you've convinced me. They're really soft and moist, thank you for sharing your grandfather's recipe." Phantom's smile dazzles the camera and the two girls watching.

Star clutches at Paulina's arm, "Paulina-"

"Shhh. Talk after the video."

"He bakes, Paulina." Paulina's heart swoops, what can't the ghost boy do?

"And thank you Lunch Lady, for hosting the recipe on your show, these definitely would not have turned out as good as they have without your tips and instruction. I've linked the relevant episode and 'Living for Lunch' in the description, you all should definitely check her out!" Phantom begins loading the cookies into a picnic basket, "but in the meantime, I'm going to clean up here, then fly around Amity. If you have watched Connie's ep then you'll know this recipe makes a lot of cookies. So I thought it would be a neat idea to share with everyone, if you see me around town, wave me over and you can have a cookie, the recipe and ingredients list are linked with Connie's episode. Stay safe everyone, and 'happy cookie baking and eating'"

The video ends.

Star and Paulina look to each other.

"He bakes"

"Star." Paulina's voice is intense as she grabs her friend by the shoulders. "Ping everyone in the Phantom sighting tracker. I need one of those cookies."

[cranberrymoons]

same old lang syne

prompt: snow (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 rated: t tags: angst, open ending, post-breakup (like years and years) – aka the existentialism of running into your ex in the grocery store at christmas notes: title from earth's saddest christmas song – same old lang syne

welcome to Day 21 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

He’s standing in front of the avocado display, contemplating life and guacamole when he feels a hand land on his shoulder from behind.

“Steve?” 

He jumps, sucking in a sharp breath as he turns around, blinking at the face of the man standing a few feet away, who’s staring at him with wide eyes and a little smile. It’s so unexpected that he almost doesn’t recognize him, which is insane, because –

“Eddie,” he says. He shakes his head, letting out a little laugh. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s face relaxes into a smile, and he holds out an arm for a hug. Steve returns it, feels his hand settle over his back in that place where he always used to hold him, slotting together warm and solid and familiar in spite of how long it’s been. 

They’ve always fit like this, together. Without even trying, they just fit.

“How are you?” he asks, pulling away before his throat can get too tight. “What are you doing here?”

There’s a lingering whiff of Eddie’s cologne clinging to his collar, and he tries not to focus on it too much. Tries not to let it draw his attention away from the way Eddie’s eyes are raking over him, his hair as wild as ever where it’s pulled back from his face. The trim cut of his leather jacket and the shine of his shoes, the soft hint of lines around his mouth.

“Just visiting,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder at nothing. “Christmas. Wayne.” He holds up the thing in his hand, which is a block of butter. “Baking cookies.”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “Nice,” he says. He holds up his basket. “Um. Same – just, parents, you know.”

And it’s been… how long? Almost ten years since they’ve seen each other. It feels a little awkward, a little weird, a little – something, but Eddie’s smile is still there on his face same as ever, and Steve’s heart gives a wet little thwump in his chest.

“Hey, uh –” Eddie clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck. “You want to grab a drink or something? Catch up?”

---

It’s Hawkins, Indiana, at 8 PM on Christmas Eve, so they predictably don’t find an open bar, but they head back to the store for a six pack and sit with it in Steve’s rental car.

It’s snowing outside, big soft flakes falling from the sky and gathering on the windshield, but he doesn’t turn on the wipers to clear it away, and neither of them comments on the fact that it was snowing like this back then too, the last time they saw each other. 

Steve’s thinking about it, though. He thinks Eddie probably is too, judging by the faraway look in his eye as he stares out the window and takes a sip of his beer. The radio is playing softly in the background, a cheery Christmas song that makes Steve feel a little like sticking his fist through the whole stereo system. The snow makes everything else outside the car feel muted and gentle, like the whole world is holding them close. 

“So how’s the–”

“What’ve you been–”

They both speak at the same time, then break off with matching embarrassed laughs. It seems to unwind some of the tension between them though, and Eddie smiles at him in the glow coming from the lights of the grocery store parking lot.

“How have you been?” he asks, turning so his back is pressed to the door, facing Steve as much as he can in the tight little space. “Where are you living now?”

“Yeah, good,” Steve says. He feels the corner of his mouth twist down. “For a while, you know. Chicago, sort of. I got married?”

“Oh, that’s–” Eddie’s eyes go a little wide, darting down to stare at his ring finger, which is empty. “Great?”

Steve lets out a quiet little sound, tilting his head to the side. “It was for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “Was he – or…”

“She,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “She’s great. Just– you know. Deserved better than me.”

A little line appears between Eddie’s eyebrows, and one of his hands reaches out then stops an inch away from landing on top of Steve’s. He hesitates there for a minute, like he’s not sure if it’s okay, and Steve’s eyes drop away from his face to stare down at it. 

He lifts one of his fingers, just enough that it grazes against the underside of Eddie’s palm, warm and soft, tracing a little pattern there until he draws Eddie’s hand down into his. His throat is tight, eyes hot and pricking at the corners, and he blinks a few times to clear it, eyes lifting back to Eddie’s face.

“And you?” he asks as Eddie’s hand settles in his. It feels safe there, like it’s never left. “Are you…”

“For a while,” Eddie says. “Not– you know, not married or anything, but just… seeing people. Dating. And then touring a lot and just– you know how it goes.”

And Steve doesn’t really, but he nods anyway, a little smile playing out over his face. 

“That’s right,” he says. “The band’s– I mean, congrats. You guys are doing really well.”

“The band is doing really well,” Eddie says, nodding slowly. His eyes are shining a little, and he sniffs, blinking back to Steve’s face. “I miss you.”

Steve lets out a little sound. “Don’t.”

“I do,” Eddie says. He shakes his head again, and Steve can feel it too, vision going blurry with it. “Every day. I fucked up.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he says. “I never should’ve let you go.”

“It was the right–” 

But Steve cuts himself off, because he was going to say the right choice, which is what he’s been telling himself ever since it happened. But he doesn’t actually believe that. He never has. 

He takes a breath.

“I miss you too.”

[also on ao3]

[beautyconsumer]

For the prompt thing, what do you think Jason’s favourite food would be. Obviously he’s used to and will eat anything he’s given but what particularly do you think he’d like? Also, what do you think he’d like to cook?

For the song thing, I think the chain by fleetwood Mac is a very Jason Todd song.

I don’t have anything else, sorry. 👍

Jason is mostly shown to be eating fast food in what I've seen from canon. And the fandom, much to my delight, has decided that his obsessive and meticulous tendencies would be focused into his cooking as well.

And it makes so much sense to me because from going to cheap fast food one is used to from a busy poor family to be able to go all the way to prepare long process food... I love that for him.

For a specific meal I'm not sure but I think he'd be a total snob. If we're going with Latino!Jason and in this case I'm going with mexican cuisine because that's what I know— he'd be the type to buy expensive ass thick stakes, carne asada with salsa de molcajete, potatoes, guacamole, he's a all or nothing kind of guy.

On that note; I personally see Jason using food as a form of love, if preparing a meal that would take more than a few minutes is a from of self care for himself, I also see him doing it for the people he cares about. Romantic or otherwise.

Cooking for his family, his friends, the outlaws, people he has a crush on.

That's how he shows he cares, alright?

If even not going all the way to bake/cook them something I see him stopping at a convenience store or a fast food chain to get them something so their stomach isn't empty.

With a specific dynamic...

Jaygrant: I see Grant absolutely blown away by the care and love Jason pours into cooking. Grant's heart swelling and not knowing what to do with these emotions because wow he cares so much, he doesn't deserve this. But Grant is nothing but an opportunist he's not taking the horse in the mouth.

And also perceives the love when someone else feeds him. Hehe Hence why I think Bruce getting him food and taking care of him without showing much emotions or actual words meant so much back then. Which is also another way Jason perceives affection; actions speak louder than words. Bruce (or anyone) protecting him means a lot.

I was reminded of that one panel in Knight Terrors where he goes, "I just wanted someone—"

Someone having his back means a lot, especially because of his long story of being betrayed and/alone.

And THAT SONG! That song is in my Jason Todd playlist, you're so right!!!!

"If you don't love me now, you will never love me again, I can still hear you saying you will never break the chain."

I see Under the Red Hood playing with that song. And it pours Jason's feelings so well. It just fits too well.