#he went like an onion ring

[chililizardsplayhouse]

[hammerhead-jpg]

I know I already posted this drawing once before but it bothered my SOUL because imo the rendering is so nice like I cooked so hard w it but their faces looked so fucking weird to me and I just needed to fix it up a little (also my Will design changed a bit)

Og under the cut....(Jumpscare warning)⬇️

I can't describe the relief I feel now that I can appreciate the top tier rendering that I did without feeling horror at looking like their faces

Like Nico WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?? he is directly behind you idc how far you turn your eyeballs you are not going to be able to see him!!!

[087710]

buster is trying to bully me into giving him this popcorn cauliflower, but he doesn't understand that it isn't the normal one, this is the buffalo flavor and after our onion ring scare im being more vigilant

[theoogtree]

Went out driving with Father again this time I got him to take me to a parking lot instead of just the neighborhood with all of the neighbors fucking cars all over the place so it was very much less stressful lmao

I'm getting the hang of stopping when I mean to and how the car turns : ) only drove up on the curb a little bit one time. Unsurprisingly dogshit at parking

[luveline]

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 

"Spencer!" 

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 

"I miss you so much." 

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 

"I can tell." 

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 

"She's making toast or something." 

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 

"It makes me miss you," you whine. 

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 

"Exactly!" 

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 

[star-sim]

say it back! ☆ jay park

☆ non-idol! bf! jay x fem! reader ☆ summary: jay thinks you're really cute, especially when you're mad. ☆ genre: fluff!! implied college! au / young adult! au , super domestic and cutesy ☆ warning(s)? nope! ☆ word count: 1.1k ☆ after supermassive blackhole i realized just how many jay stans followed me, so eat up guys 😛

It was a Friday evening. The sun was beginning to set, casting a vibrant peach-orange glow over Jay’s apartment.

With a navy-blue apron hanging loosely from his neck, Jay took in the scent of garlic chives and caramelized onions marinating in the pan. With a spatula, he popped in a lump of gochujang, stirring in the hot, red paste.

If Jay had to be honest, he spent most of his time just touching you, his girlfriend. Not in a sexual way. Any physical touch with you was more than enough. Whether it be cuddling on the couch or you clinging onto him while he did things, the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact was everything.

On days like this, Jay was the one cooking dinner. Not-so-surprising, you were an absolute mess in the kitchen, so he took on that responsibility. You should be home soon. You had taken up an internship a weeks ago, so you had to stay just a tad later than usual.

As Jay immersed himself in the gorgeous aromas of his craft, he thought of what he should do with you later.

He could watch a movie with you, but knowing you, you would probably be all over him. He never expected you to be the clingy, needy type, doing whatever you could to snuggle up against his warm body. Jay’s lips parted before spreading into a gummy grin. He could imagine your voice:

“Baaabe,” you would whine, plopping yourself in between his legs. You would tangle your arms with his, or maybe you'd place his hands in your hair and make him play with it.

If his eyes were glued to the TV for long enough, you would pout, before peppering soft kisses against his neck. Jay would pretend to ignore you, making you whine again. 

“Give me attention,” you would murmur against his ear. 

Oh man, Jay felt giddy and warm inside just thinking about it. 

What he wouldn’t do just to have you come home already—

The door clicked open.

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil and you will appear.

Jay heard a few footsteps and a giggle before feeling arms slither around his torso. 

“Hi,” you mumbled against his back. 

Jay grinned. “Hi, Angel.”

You peeked over his shoulder, taking in the scent of his cooking. “Smells good.”

“Go wash up, baby,” Jay said. “I’m almost done.”

“Okayyy,” you squeezed his waist. You gave Jay a small peck on the cheek. You drawled, “I love youuuu!”

Jay hummed. 

He heard you huff. 

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Mhm.”

There’s a pulse of silence before you pulled away, leaving him alone.

When you left, he couldn’t help but smile so stupidly. 

You were going to drive him crazy. 

You were so cute, and adorable, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and precious, and everything that he loved. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and kiss you forever and be with you forever and-

How many kids should you and him have? He’d always wanted two boys and a girl, but he wouldn’t mind having more. Later down the line, when you and him got older, he’d buy you a pretty diamond ring— in fact, he’d buy you everything that you’ve ever wanted. And then you and him will get married and buy a house. Would you take his last name? [Name] Park didn’t sound too bad. People would call you Mrs. Park, and instead of calling you by your first name, Jay would refer to you as “my wife,” and—

He was feeling dizzy just thinking about it. Was he getting ahead of himself?

“Are you mad at me?” your voice suddenly said.

Jay jumped. He whipped his head around to see you with your arms crossed and a big, sulky frown.

Were you standing there the whole time?

“B-Babe, I thought you went to the bathroom…”

You shook your head. 

“Are you mad at me?” you repeated. Taking a few steps forward, you turned him around, pressing him up against the kitchen counter while holding his hands together.

“Wait, what?” Jay’s brows knitted together. “Baby, where is this coming from?”

“You…” you began, averting your gaze. “You didn’t say it back.”

Jay cocked his head. “Say what back?”

You huffed. “I said I love you, and you didn’t say it back.”

You tilted your head so that he couldn’t see your pouty face, playing with his fingers. You murmured something under your breath, something that he couldn’t quite hear.

Jay stared at you for a few seconds, processing everything. And then, he threw his head back, loud bouts of laughter emitting from his lips. Every time that he would calm down and look at you, your sulky face would make him burst back into his fit of giggles.

“It’s not funny!” you slapped his shoulder, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. When he wouldn’t stop laughing, you turned away, punching him on the arm, “You’re a jerk, Jay.”

At that, Jay immediately stopped laughing.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” Jay clasped your hands in his, pulling you close to him so that you were flushed against his chest. 

You frowned. 

“It's too late to apologize,” you mumbled.

Jay almost chuckled at your grumpiness, but stopped himself before you’d be even more upset with him.

You stayed like that for a few moments: Jay holding you close against the kitchen counter, fingers loosely intertwined.

Finally, Jay poked your cheek.

“Hey!”

“Don’t be mad at me, Angel.”

Your frown deepened.

Jay sighed.

Bringing a large hand up, he gently grabbed your face, bringing it closer.

“What are you-”

Jay began littering chaste kisses all across your face– he started at your cheek, moved up to your forehead, down your nose, to your other cheek, and lastly to your chin, where he teased you by kissing just close enough to your lips. He exaggerated by making loud kissy noises to further rile you up.

“Stoooooppp,” you whined, but made no attempt to resist him.

Jay let out a low chuckle. He cupped your cheeks. He ghosted his lips over yours, reveling in the way that you automatically closed your eyes and wet your lips in anticipation. He contemplated whether or not he should pull away to tease you, but decided against it. 

Who was he to deny you?

When your lips met, you let out an excited squeal, squeezing his bicep. When you guys pulled away, Jay breathed against your lips, “I love you.”

“Baby...” you mewled, sliding your hands up his chest to hook around his neck.

“I love you,” he repeated himself, leaning in to give your lips a peck. “I love you so fucking much.”

You giggled softly, your breath brushing against his cheek. “I love you, too.”

[supernovafics]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff

summary: in which you and steve are not the best at keeping everything a secret

author's note: this is basically like three blurbs thrown into one thing<3 enjoy<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

It only felt right to end the night at Third Street. That diner was your and Steve’s go-to place; a home away from home, in a sense. 

You two were way too dressed up for the informalness of the diner where the usual attire consisted of hoodies and sweatpants, or simply pajamas depending on the time of night. But, neither of you really cared that you looked sorely out of place with your black dress and Steve’s white button-up and nice black pants because you were still on cloud nine from the date you two had gone on— a “first date” that was cheesy and dumb, just like you wanted it to be. 

The restaurant you went to a few towns over was almost too romantic with a candle sitting in the middle of the white cloth covered table and pretty classical music softly playing over the speakers throughout the entire place. You both smiled and laughed and attempted to play a sort of game where you limited the conversation to only topics that would typically come up during a first date. It immediately became an almost impossible game to play because you two knew pretty much everything about each other and it was hard to think of “first date questions” to ask that you didn’t already know the answer to. You two ended up talking about high school Biology for way too long until you gave up on the game entirely and spent the final half of dinner talking about anything. 

And then after sharing a slice of cheesecake that was probably the blandest cheesecake either of you had ever had, you went to see a horror movie. It had been out for a while, so there was barely anyone else in the theater and you had an entire row to yourselves, which almost immediately led you two to doing things that didn’t involve actually watching the movie. Although Steve did make it a point to shield your eyes and protect you from the scariest scenes of the movie, like, he stated, “Any good date would do.” And because he was much worse with scary movies than you, you did the same thing for him. 

“Should we get actual good dessert to end the night?” You had posed with a smile on your face after the movie ended and you two walked hand in hand to Steve’s car. 

“Milkshakes from Third Street?”

You nodded at him. “My thoughts exactly.”

You two sat on the same side of the booth like always and shared a strawberry milkshake instead of getting separate ones, and you also decided to get a plate of onion rings to share too. 

The diner was fairly empty for the most part, and the few people who were scattered around paid no attention to the two of you. Until a familiar face walked in— Eddie, and his bandmates right behind him.

He noticed you two immediately and started walking over to the booth you were occupying while Gareth and Jeff went to grab a table. “I’m guessing your dates were shitty if you’re both ending the night here.”

Hearing him say that made you remember the excuse that you both told him and Robin earlier in the week about why you’d be unavailable Friday night; you both had dates. It might’ve seemed too weirdly coincidental, but it had actually been something that happened a bunch of times before. Therefore, when you told the lie to Robin and Eddie, neither of them questioned it. And you really didn’t expect to see either of them tonight.

You nodded at his words. “Yeah, the dates were really bad. We got back home around the same time and then decided to come here.” 

Eddie slid into the booth and tilted his head at the two of you. “How intense were these dates? You’re both so dressed up.” 

“Um, my guy took me to a fancy restaurant,” You said as you avoided his eyes and decided to focus on the near-empty plate of onion rings.  

“And I went to a different fancy restaurant,” Steve said, and you immediately bumped his knee under the table.

Eddie laughed a bit. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw you in a button-up, Harrington.” 

You looked up at him again and there was something about the lazy smile on his face and slight flush of his cheeks that made you finally notice he was a little drunk, which made you inwardly sigh in relief. If Eddie wasn’t slightly inebriated in this moment, you were almost certain that he would’ve seen through the entirety of your lie. There was one empty milkshake glass with two straws sitting in front of you and Steve, and his jacket was draped across your shoulders because the cardigan you were wearing over your dress did nothing to keep you warm.  

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to come to Third Street— a place that all of your friends would always go to as well— when you both so obviously looked like you’d been on a date with each other, and were pretty much still on one. However, Eddie didn’t seem to connect those dots, and you were grateful.

“So, how was your gig at The Hideout?” 

“Pretty good. Now we’re getting celebratory french fries,” He told you, smiling. “You guys wanna join? We can push another table together.”

“Yeah, we should.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Your and Steve’s responses came out simultaneously, but they both went unheard because Jeff calling out Eddie’s name and waving him over to their table also happened at the same time.   

“Come over if you guys wanna,” He said as he slid out of the booth and started walking away. 

You looked at Steve. “I think it’ll look weird if we said no.” 

“I think he’s too drunk right now to notice anything weird.” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s true, but still,” You shrugged.

“I think we should head home,” Steve said as his hand found yours under the table. “Watch TV and fall asleep on the couch.”

The thought of that happening right then sounded perfect to you.

“Ah, yes, just like an old married couple,” You smiled. 

He smiled back at you. “Exactly.” 

Barely thirty minutes later, you two were in your shared living room, sprawled out on the couch in your pajamas with a blanket draped over your tangled legs that were stretched out on the coffee table. A random episode of a sitcom played on the TV and you could already feel yourself starting to fall asleep. But, it wasn’t until Steve wrapped an arm around you and you buried yourself into his side that you did. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Oh, wow. Who mauled you?” 

You didn’t expect that to be the first thing Robin said to you when you walked into Family Video, but it was, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her question. 

“What?”

She leaned over the counter and made a gesture to your neck. “You’re like covered in hickeys right now. I wish I had a mirror to show you.” 

“Oh, fuck,” You mumbled, dropping your bag on the counter and heading to the bathroom in the back. It was labeled as “Employees Only,” but of course, that rule didn’t apply to you. 

You flicked on the light and then looked in the mirror, quickly noticing the dark red marks on your neck. You were immediately reminded of Steve and what you two had been doing in his car after you both went to the class that you took together. It was a twenty-minute makeout session that only felt like five, and it abruptly ended because he had to leave for his shift and you had to head to your last class. You both had been so close to simply ditching your responsibilities for the rest of the day and letting yourselves continue to makeout in his car; and honestly, if either of you had suggested the idea, the other would’ve happily agreed. But, you had a quiz to take and Steve didn’t want Robin to have to fend for herself for the night, so you eventually, and reluctantly, pulled away from each other. 

You had taken a glance in his mirror before you left his car, and your neck didn’t look half as bad as it did now. 

Robin peaked in, watching you inspect yourself in the bathroom mirror. “When did this happen? Also, it wasn’t with the guy you went on that shitty date with last week, right?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror for a brief second before looking away. “No, not him. It was just… Some guy that I’ve been doing a project with for the last couple of weeks. And it was like two hours ago, right before my last class. I stupidly have not looked in a mirror since,” You were practically mumbling through your lie. “Does it look really bad?”

“Oh, um… No,” The way she said her words didn’t convince you in the slightest. 

“Shit,” You said as you slipped past her and headed back to the front. 

Robin shrugged behind you. “At least it was good, right?” 

You thought back to that moment in Steve’s car. The awkward turned position you both were in the entire time was uncomfortable and annoying, but it didn't really faze you too much because, yes, the whole thing had been really, really good.

“Yeah…” You said, glad she couldn’t see your face right then, and read into your growing smile. “Yeah, it was good.” 

“I would love to hear more about him, by the way.” 

You were about to make up some lying excuse about how this nonexistent relationship had already pretty much run its course, but then Steve was emerging from the back storage room with a stack of tapes in his hand, and that grabbed both your and Robin’s attention. 

“Hey,” He smiled at you and then immediately noticed your neck, eyes widening a bit. “Oh, your… Your, um–”

“She had a very steamy makeout with this guy from her class earlier,” Robin filled him in.

Steve looked at you. “Oh. Oh, nice. That’s cool.” 

“Yes, very cool, and not at all annoying that he decided to give me hickeys like we’re Freshmen in high school,” You deadpanned and gave Steve a look that you hoped he picked up on. “I’ll be right back. I think I have a hoodie in my car.”

You rummaged through your bag in search of your keys and then walked out of the video store once you found them, the door chiming behind you. 

“Do you think it’s serious?” Robin asked after a second.

Steve looked at her. “What?” 

“Her and the guy?”

He looked away then and decided to focus on the tapes he still had in his hand. 

“Oh, um, no, probably not,” He shrugged as he placed the tapes on the counter. 

“I don’t know,” Robin singsonged as she walked around Steve to place a movie that someone just returned on the cart. “Having a hot makeout session in the middle of the day seems at least a little serious.”

Before he could think of anything to say to that, you were walking back into Family Video, now wearing a gray “Hawkins Basketball” hoodie, and it managed to cover your neck, for the most part. 

Robin simply looked at you for a few moments and then nodded. “That works. Kinda.” 

“I’m glad my stolen hoodie can come in good use,” Steve said, smiling at you. “I would also love to get it back one day.”   

“I stole it because I like to support your old basketball team sometimes. Go jaguars or whatever it is.” 

“Tigers,” Both Steve and Robin said at the same time.  

“Got it,” You said with a quick nod. You joined them behind the counter and started looking through some of the movies on the cart. 

Steve began alphabetizing the tapes he set on the counter and Robin started doing something on the computer. 

The door chimed barely a minute later, and a middle-aged woman came in asking for some help. 

“It’s my turn, I know,” Robin mumbled to Steve before he could say anything, and she plastered on a fake smile as she walked over to the woman. 

When you were certain she was out of earshot, you gave Steve a look. “Hickeys? Seriously? Your makeout privileges have been revoked until further notice.”

“I think that’ll hurt you just as much as me.”

You only rolled your eyes at him in response.  

“Besides,” He said as he reached over and pushed down the part of your hoodie that was covering your neck. “I think they’re kinda hot actually.”

You shooed his hand and then looked over to where Robin was to make sure she wasn’t looking at the two of you. 

“Just give me a heads up next time, so I don’t walk around looking like an idiot for two and a half hours.”

“I will,” He nodded. “And I swear I didn’t mean to leave them. You just have such a pretty and kissable neck is all.” 

You were laughing as you rolled your eyes at him again. “Always such a charmer.”

“And you love it,” He whispered, grinning at you, and of course you nodded.  

“I’m gonna give you a bunch of hickeys when we get home tonight,” You told him, voice matching his quiet tone. “And since I’m a nice person, I’ll do it in a place that no one will see.”

Steve was nodding immediately at your words and his response came out low. “Can’t wait.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It probably wasn’t the best idea for you two to sit right next to each other at the movie theater, but it just felt like second nature to do so. 

Whenever you and Steve brought the kids to the movies, you two always sat together at the end of whatever row they decided on, sharing your own bucket of popcorn and trading candy back and forth. 

Now things were obviously different, and as you sat next to each other in this moment it felt just as such too.

You desperately wanted to hold his hand and kiss the back of it, or push up the armrest that sat in between the two of you and settle your head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You wondered if Steve wanted the same things as you; if he was feeling just as affected as you’d been for the past forty minutes. 

Being this close to one another in a dark setting that definitely could’ve warranted a kiss or two or more, but not being able to do anything about it, made it way too hard to focus on the movie. If asked, you would not have been able to explain any of what had happened so far. 

You turned a bit to look at Steve and when his gaze met yours, he gave you a look that told you that his head was in the exact same place as yours. You quickly looked away from him to avoid impulsively doing something that would’ve entirely given away the secret you two shared. 

He leaned in close to you, pretending to whisper something in your ear, but sneakily pressing a quick kiss to your cheek instead. That was when you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed a breather.

You quickly stood up, placing the popcorn bucket in your lap on the floor, and then slipped past Steve. You walked out of the theater and into the empty hallway, leaning back against the wall with a breath of a sigh. 

The thought of simply staying out here until the movie was over didn’t sound like a horrible idea to you right then. It would feel much better than sitting in a theater and “watching” a movie that you hadn’t been paying attention to, while also fighting the urge to do anything with Steve. 

The sound of the theater door opening caught your attention and after a second you saw him. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I just keep thinking about the last time we were here, a couple weeks ago, and how we spent more time kissing than actually watching the movie.”

Steve smiled. “That was a great night.”

“Yes,” You nodded and laughed a little at his words. “And I really wish we could do that now, but obviously we can’t.”

Steve was quiet for a second. He glanced down both ends of the hallway to make sure no one else was around before he stepped toward you, hands reaching out to grab your waist. “We can out here.”

Before you could respond to that— perhaps with a half-hearted “We shouldn’t” or simple head shake— he was slowly slotting his lips against yours. You had seen it coming, but it still managed to surprise you a bit and you softly gasped against his mouth. You were kissing him back immediately, though; your arms coming up to circle his neck and pull him closer to you. He lightly pressed you back against the wall and you couldn’t help but smile. 

It all lasted only for a second, though, because the sound of the theater door opening again pulled you both out of the little haze you were in, that place where no one else existed except for you and him, and you quickly moved away from each other. 

Dustin walked out into the hallway and his eyebrows immediately furrowed at the two of you. “What are you guys doing out here? You’re missing so many good parts.”

“We were, uh, talking about getting more popcorn,” You said. “Do you want some too? Or maybe more candy?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Lucas was talking about running out of Skittles, though.”

“Okay, we’ll get some more of that too.”

“Move fast or you guys are gonna miss everything.”

“Got it,” Steve said, nodding. “We’ll be back in like five minutes.”

Dustin pointed to the watch on his wrist. “I’m holding you to that.”

He turned to head back inside the theater, and when the door closed behind him, you let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I said popcorn. We really don’t need more. I’m pretty sure our bucket is still mostly full.”

“I think it’s kinda funny how we’re somehow getting worse at keeping this secret,” Steve said, a small laugh falling from his lips. “The Eddie thing, the Robin thing, and now this.”

“It’s barely been two weeks. We’ll get better, eventually. Maybe.”

“Or we can just tell everyone.”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you were being so hesitant about it— especially when things between you two felt so right— but Steve didn’t question it or try to see what was up with you right then. 

“Okay, we can just discreetly hold hands for the rest of the movie.”

You smiled. “I wanna say we shouldn’t push our luck right now, but I also would love to hold your hand.”

He kissed you quickly and the abruptness of the action made you laugh a bit. You were then grabbing his hand and leading him to the concessions so that you two could stand in the short line and get another pack of Skittles for Lucas. 

When you were back in the theater and in your seats— attempting to solely look like just two best friends once again— he found your hand after only a few moments, interlocking your fingers and placing your joint palms in his lap. You turned to look at him and gave him a small smile, fighting the urge you had to place a soft kiss against his lips. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

i just need to curl up to and nuzzle against marc ☹️☹️ need him to hold me and kiss my head and face ☹️☹️

We all need it!

Play The Game

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: PG pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Summary: It's time for some kisses and snuggles.

Warnings: some fluffy fluff, soft! Marc, PIKMIN 4, reader and Marc in an established relationship, kisses, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 520

Marc sat on the sofa, the switch controls in his hands, his eyes fixed on the TV. Unlike Steven, who preferred to play handheld, Marc liked it best this way. Found it easier to see everything that was going on. 

(And that wasn’t because he needed to wear reading glasses, what are you talking about?) 

He had become enamoured lately with playing Pikman 4, to the extent that he would reverse time even if he lost one Pikman and restarting a level on the rare occasion that Oatchi was injured enough to be out of action. 

So it wasn’t surprising that he was playing when you got back to the flat. He had jumped up, pausing to give you a kiss and cuddle as you came through the door, chatting eagerly as you took off your shoes. 

It was so heartwarming to see him like that, happy and comfortable and enthusiastic. More relaxed in his own skin and not feeling the need to mask quite as heavily as he normally did. 

He went back to the game when you jumped in the shower. 

Your day hadn’t been bad per se, but there was a cloud of glumness that seemed to hang in your head. Greying out a lot of the smaller positive things. 

You sat down on the settee next to him, still a little damp from your shower and picked at the helm of your top. 

“Look at how many ice Pikman I’ve got.” He grins, racing back to the nearest base to show you how many he has in the onion. 

You chuckle. “That’s a lot.” 

“I know right?” He turns to look at you, beaming. “I’ve been gathering them.” 

A little spark of joy settles in your chest and begins to grow. “You sure have.” 

“I probably don’t need so many, but look at them.” 

“Are ice Pikman your favourites?” 

He gives you a mock gasp and shocked expression, “I don’t have favourites.”

“Sure you don’t Spector.” You giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

Immediately he moves, shifting so he can wrap his arm around you and you can lay back on his chest. He hums happily and kisses the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

“Yeah?” 

He nods, pressing his cheek against the back of your head as he continues to play. “Missed you.” 

“I haven’t been gone that long.” You say a little teasingly, purposefully trying to get a reaction. 

“If I could, I’d be in an onion, then you could call me out whenever.”

You giggle. “You’ve been playing this game too much.”

“Yeah, probably.” 

“Nah, keep going.” 

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to see you happy.” 

He nuzzles into your temple, giving you a little squeeze before he kisses your cheek and forehead repeatedly until you giggle again. “It’s nice to see you happy.” He looks over your face for a moment, reading some emotion you’re not even sure you can name. “You know what?” 

“What?” 

“I’m gonna kiss you once for each Pikman I have in the onion.” 

You glance at the TV. That’s a lot of kisses.

“Deal.” 

Marc grins. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

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[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 15

Hey guys this story is back! I feel like it's nearing the end, but we'll see. I'm hoping for another couple of chapters (than the two have backlogged anyway) at least, but I'm not sure. Steve and Eddie are already freewheeling toward each other and I have learned when that starts happening either one or both of them hit the gas and they go from zero to sixty faster than NASCAR on race day.

Steve tries to get a job, has a good cry about it, Robin is bestest and they try the mall.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Steve sat at the desk, phone pressed to his ear, newspaper next to him, and paper and pen in hand.

“Hi, may I speak to the manager?” he asked in his best customer service voice. “Thank you.”

Once the manager was on the line, he began, “Hello, sir. I’m looking at your ad in the help want ads and was wondering if the position was still open?”

Steve shoulders slumped. “I see. No, of course. I’m sure your nephew will just be absolutely smashing at slinging those hamburgers. Thank you for your time.”

He set the phone down in its cradle and put his head in his hands. He had been on the phone for the last two hours calling up people for job interviews and he was utterly exhausted.

Everyone of them had turned him down. Not taking anymore applications at this time, the job has been filled, or in the cases he actually got far enough to tell them his name, they would straight up hang up on him.

He didn’t want to work in the mall, but it was looking less and less likely he’d get a job inside Hawkins.

Which meant that Joyce was going to be on his ass again. She had gotten so insistent in him finding a job, that he was forced to stop going over there, choosing to hang out with Will and Ellie at someone else’s house.

God, he got more peace at the Wheelers and Mike was openly hostile ninety percent of the time. So that was really something.

Steve picked up Eddie’s latest gift. It was a giant canary plushie. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. He loved it. He hugged it close.

“I miss Eddie, Kenny,” he murmured into its beak. “I know he’ll be home in a couple of weeks, but I miss being able to have him tell me I’m enough. That my worth isn’t dependent on what other people think of me.”

Steve stood up and carried Kenny over to the bed, where he fell asleep, tears falling into the soft material of Kenny’s neck.

~

He woke up slowly to soft music being played. He opened his eyes and blearily looked around. There on the sofa reading a magazine was Robin. She was listening to Blondie on his boombox but it was at a respectful volume so it wouldn’t wake him.

He had long since given her permission to just come in when she had a gift from Eddie or if she just want to hang out. As long as he wasn’t getting a shower or getting dressed, he really couldn’t care less.

Steve sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. Next to her on the sofa was a large box.

“Hey, dingus,” she said without looking up. “I took the opportunity to order us dinner.” She looked at her watch. “It should be here in about five minutes.”

Steve slid off the bed and padded over to the sofa where he flopped gracelessly next to her.

Robin set down the magazine and looked at him properly. “Still can’t find a job, huh?”

He shook his head and pulled his knees up to his chest. She gave him a big hug and just held him until the food arrived. She rolled the food cart over lifted the cloche with gusto.

“Tada!” she said triumphantly revealing the mountains of fries, mashed potatoes, pizza, onion rings. All of Steve’s favorite things. “I figured you’d want some pick me up food and I went all out.”

“If we weren’t both gayer than the day is long,” Steve sighed happily, “I’d marry you.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek pulling out a slice of cheese pizza. He munched, grinning around the slice.

“Gross,” Robin said grabbing a handful of fries. “I mean the pizza not the marrying thing, because I agree. No, your pizza tastes are abysmal. Plain cheese? No meat, not veggies, nothing?”

Steve swallowed and set the pizza down. “It’s all my mom would let me have. Even when I’d go to parties and shit, she’d insist on them having a cheese pizza for me.”

“Okay I take that back,” Robin said. “Eat your cheese pizza, dingus. It makes you happy. But if I ever see your mother, I might accidentally scratch her eyes out.”

Steve picked up the pizza again, but paused with it half way to his mouth. ‘How do you accidentally scratch someone’s eyes out?”

Robin batted her eyes prettily. “I wouldn’t know, officer, I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was washing the blood off my hands.”

Steve threw one of the throw pillows at her head. “Don’t quote musicals at me!”

“Ha!” Robin crowed in delight, clutching the pillow to her chest. “The fact that you recognize it makes you the chump, not me!”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but then his eyes went wide when he had no argument for that.

“I’d love to see proper theater, you know,” he said dreamily. “Like with a proper orchestra and not just a tinny tape that skips in places and actual actors instead of Old Mr. Abernathy trying to play Hamlet.”

Robin winced. “He couldn’t even remember ‘To be or not to be’ and that’s like the one line everyone knows.” She shoved more fries into her face.

“Maybe when I get out on my own,” he said, snagging one of her fries right off of her plate, “I’ll go see plays in Indy or Bloomington.”

“You’ve just got to take me with you,” she huffed, grabbing the half bitten fry right out of his mouth and shoving it in her face. “I’ve been saving up all the money I’ve been getting from this job so I can get driving lessons at school. I won’t be able to drive my parents’ care very much, but it would still be nice to say I have it.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something but she held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. No, you can’t pay for my drivers’ ed classes. Because I want to pay for that myself.”

Steve pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t treat my friends to a little thing like a new car or new bikes.”

The new bikes were still a point of contention between Joyce and Steve. He had bought all of them new bikes and gear with exception of Max where he bought her a new skateboard and gear. All in their favorite colors. But she refused to let Will take his. She said it wasn’t his to spend and therefore to take it back until he could buy it with his own hard earned money.

Will stopped talking to his mother for a couple of days after that.

And Steve hadn’t blamed him, so he told Will to leave it at Mike’s and ‘borrow’ it when ever they rode out places. Joyce couldn’t stop him from doing that.

“I’m not saying not buy me a new car,” Robin huffed a little laugh. “I’m just saying I want to pay for the lessons myself. It’s more of an accomplishment thing.”

Steve perked up and batted his eyelashes at her. “Really? I can buy you a car a gift for passing your test? You’ll really let me?”

Robin laughed and threw a fry at his head. “Yes, dingus, you can but me a car. I talked it over with my parents and I told them that Eddie wanted to get me a car for all my hard work and that you’d be the one helping me pick it out.”

He grabbed the fry and threw back at her, it landing in her hair. “Oh that’s smart. I bet they had all sorts of restrictions on it being sensible and shit.”

But Robin shook her head. “My parents were hippies, not stupid. They know that if they try and restrict me I will come home with the reddest, wildest hot rod they’ve every laid eyes on.”

Steve laughed. “God, can we introduce them to Joyce? Because it sounds like they could teach her a thing or two.”

“I know right?” Robin said rolling her eyes. “Eat your pizza, you heathen and the next time I come I’m bringing proper Domino’s pizza with all sorts of toppings and you can find you actually like. In the mean time, open this present that is digging into my side.”

Steve reached out for it with grabby hands. “Oooh, I really liked the plushie from yesterday. I named him Kenny. Kenny the Canary.”

“Because of course you did,” she said dryly, handing over the package to him.

He could tell it was clothes just from the shape of the box. There was just something about them that screamed ‘hey I’m clothes!’ Inside was the most beautiful yellow cardigan. It was soft and warm.

The note said, “It may be hotter than balls in Hawkins, but up here in Canada, the weather is pretty mild. Not quite sweater weather, but I saw this and just had to get it for you. Just ten more days, little Canary.”

Steve buried his face into the softness of the sweater and nearly squealed in delight. Eddie had sprayed it with his cologne. Oh this was exactly what he needed.

Robin took the card from him and smiled. “He seems to really like you. I know a lot of the people you hang out with give you shit about Eddie and the money running out on you, but Steve, the way he writes these notes sound like someone who genuinely likes you.”

Steve set down the sweater with a sigh. “I know. But it’s the imbalance I’m worried about. I’ve already been called a gold digger. I don’t want that.”

Robin frowned for a moment. “My mom is making me apply for jobs at the mall. She says I can still do this, but she wants me to know ‘what real work is’.” She put air quotes around the last part. “Which is bullshit, but I’ll do it so I can keep doing this.”

She scooted over to him and put her arm around him. “So come with me and maybe we can get a job together, shove it everyone else’s faces, yeah?”

Steve nodded and curled up into her side. She was the only one besides Hopper who knew who his benefactor was and could offer a different perspective than anyone else.

“But in the mean time,” Robin said softly, “maybe talk to Hopper about getting Joyce to knock it off.”

He shook his head. “He’s tried. She has straight up told him that until he tells her who it is who’s funding you, she won’t drop the job thing.”

Robin winced. “And if she finds out who it is, she going to be worse. I haven’t met someone who wasn’t an adult when he left other than Hopper who liked Eddie Munson. I mean the only reason my parents are letting me do this is that Uncle Justin vetted the job and that Corroded Coffin would be on tour, while I stayed here in Hawkins.”

Steve sighed and sat back up. “That’s not even the biggest problem with them knowing. It’s having to explain where I was that Eddie would have seen me to help me out.” He changed his voice so it was higher and clutched his hands to his chest. “Yes, Mrs. Byers I was underage drinking at a bar in the hopes of getting laid so I had a place to sleep!” He dropped back down to his normal tone. “Yeah, like that will go over well.”

“Ooh,” she said with a grimace, “yeah I could see how that might cause waves with the parents. Like tsunami level waves.”

“Pretty much!”

Steve flopped his head back on the back on the sofa. “God, what a fucking mess.”

“Maybe just tell them you were going to see your cousin, Monty,” she suggested, “and you were smoking outside when you met Eddie. See if that goes over better.”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Maybe. I know Monty would back me up if that’s the case. But I would rather wait until Eddie got home and see what he says.”

Robin nodded sagely. “That’s fair.”

~

They had decided to let Robin get all the applications and bring them over to Steve in the food court. He had ordered them a couple of large Orange Juilus’s and two huge slices of pizza from Sbarros.

She handed him a pen and they got to work filling out all the applications, by the time they were done, Steve’s hand cramped and he worked his fingers open and closed to try to get the muscles to work again.

Robin rolled her eyes, but wisely said nothing as she gathered up their applications to return to their stores.

Robin got three call backs, but Steve only got one. Thankfully it was one that Robin had also got, but it was Scoops Ahoy, the ice cream shop with the little costumes and silly hats. They were both hired on the spot.

~

Sorry if you saw chapter sixteen on here, too. I'll post it later!

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Tag List: SIX SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate

[accio-victuuri]

010225: LRLG submission 🔴🟢

what a great way to start the year! a very long submission from lrlg! yaaaay!!!!! let me start with the last part of the post which is a message from lrlg.

It's been a long time since we last met. Isn't it a bit too long? All the work in 2024 is completed. We have entered a new year. Let's meet more often. Happy New Year!

i’m crying!!!! it’s been so long!!!!!

i will try and include as much as i can — especially one that have candy potential. the first part is bobo talking to his team and it’s a long convo but the important part is this:

staff: “How come when I went to the store to look at it, there were men’s rings?”

🟢: "I don't know. I can't go to the store."

🟢: "You can choose a pendant. There are many styles of pendants."

staff: "Only the dragon tablet and nothing else”

🟢 “Buy gold and strike it yourself”

staff:"It's too much trouble"

staff:"Just go with the gold bars and styles."

staff:“Buy ready-made”

HAHAHAHAHAHA IM CACKLING AT YIBO. Why are you like this. His staff has it hard. Why do you wanna make them hand made the gold jewelry you want???? and is this for XZ? part of the new year gift?

🟢 "Good, the only purpose is safety first"

🟢 "Absolutely"

🟢 “The express delivery has been waiting for several days.”

🟢 "It was sent by xx. If you don't go back, I'll find someone to pick it up."

🟢 "good"

the next two paragraphs are convos between wyb and his staff again. they are talking about wyb having enough time to go home ( probably spend time with xz ). then another convo about accessories.

🟢: "What did you order?"

🔴: The food I ordered hasn't arrived yet."

🟢 "I'm hungry."

Staff: "It'll probably be ten minutes. Sorry it's late."

🔴 "You're so busy. You're abusing your employees."

🟢 "Ah? Ask her."

Staff "Sorry I watched the game late"

🟢 "It's okay, I was hungry early"

🔴: "Table Tennis"

Staff "You watch it too"

🔴 "Well, mainly you are playing it out loud"

Staff "Ah, hold on to a little bit"

🟢 "Have you ordered any fruit"

🔴 "You have a big heart, dare to watch the live broadcast"

"Hey"

Staff "Then we must be on the same frequency, order fruit slices"

🟢 "I am your boss, right?"

Staff "But he is your boss"

🟢 "Okay, okay"

the next part is them finally getting their orders! HAHAHAHAHA! they ordered too much and WYB was telling his staff that when he finishes filming he will give them some time off.

Staff: "xx is here, why don't you go and take a look first?"

🟢 "Okay, you go first"

🔴 "Take a few bites of this"

🟢 "I'll come back to eat"

🔴 "Hey, there's no onion"

🟢 Chew chew chew "delicious"

🔴 "You're born in the year of the dog"

🟢 😨

🔴 "My gloves have been bitten through"

🔴 "It's so bad"

🟢 "There's water in the cabinet. I'll roll it for you when I get back. You guys eat first."

Staff "I still have two new ones."

OMGGGG they are feeding each other! and yes XZ he is a puppy! Your puppy!!!! 🥹🥹🥹😂😂😂

the next paragraphs is when WYB has already left and XZ is left with the staff. it makes me feel things that XZ is so familiar with WYB’s staff. they are truly a team that he can even joke with them. you can tell the familiarity.

Staff "I'll treat you guys to a good meal tonight"

🔴 "I'll charge you a lot"

Staff "Hey, the boss isn't here?"

Staff "XX is here"

and they are talking about a watch that was sent.

🟢 "Why aren't you eating yet?"

🔴 "It's only five minutes, you should be back in fifteen minutes."

🟢 "I grabbed the cantaloupe, it's sweet."

Staff How come yours is already cut? I just took two pieces."

🟢 "XX has already cut ones, you didn't get them

Staff "They just cut it. Do I dare to take it?"

🔴 "It's cold whether you eat it or not"

🟢 "Wash your hands"

—-

🔴 "Is it so difficult to eat a meal?"

🟢 "Didn't I ask you to eat first?"

🟢 "Oh, then it's no different from eating at home"

🔴 "You're the one who said all the words"

🟢 "Why are you cursing?"

🔴 "Which word did I use to curse?"

🟢 "You cursed in a very civilized way"

🔴 "The sauce is too salty"

🟢 "Good God"

LOL they never change with the bickering! and how they go back to talking as usual after.

——

🟢 Let Brother X take you there this afternoon"

🔴 "No need for XX"

🟢 "What did you buy?"

🔴 "There are dogs all over your pants"

🟢 "Are you a little dog now?"

🔴 "Yes, you are a little pig dog"

🟢 👊🏻

🔴 "Hey, how can you be so disrespectful?"

🔴 "Why do I feel that this sauce is different from what I ate before?"

Staff "Salty and sweet"

🟢 Change the chef"

🔴 "Hiss"

🟢 "I'll pick you up in the afternoon"

🔴 "No need, I don't know what time I'll be back"

🟢 "Call me when you're done"

the last part is labeled as a funny story among WYB and his staff

🟢 "Who ate the spicy noodles?"

Staff “Everyone in the room ate them."

Staff "Too spicy, that spicy strips they bought online"

Staff "xx had a nosebleed after eating it"

🟢 "Let me taste it"

Staff "Don't eat it, I ate a small piece and now my stomach is on fire"

🟢 "Medical insurance can't be used anymore, this is how it is"

😂😂😂😂 anyway, WYB! Don’t eat that spicy thing!!!!

-END.

i am not authorized to translate the entire thing but these are the ones that stood out and included xz and wyb interaction! this is such a simple part of their life but that’s how it is. i’m glad they get to spend time together. the question is, when was this. lol. this post as you may have noticed is more on the translation and a tiny bit of commentary from me. i will do a longer reaction and crying post later. 🫶🏼

in the meantime, enjoy ^^

[vampiretendencies]

request; “tell me about your day” and “wiping their tears when they cry” with rafe?

pairing; rafe x fem!reader

warnings; fluff

authors note; curing my writers block one blurb at a time, request from the list below or send in your ideas for blurbs, one shots, imagines etc.

other ways to say i love you prompt list

Rafe wanted you to quit working.

He’d told you time and time again that he genuinely desired to provide for you.

Enough for you and him.

And the way that you enter his home, hardly standing up— proves his point. No woman of his should ever have to work so hard, but you always insisted.

Because one day, if things went south you’d be left with nothing but empty pockets and a sullen heart.

“‘The fuck happened to you.”

Rafe spat, not at you however, but because he already knew those bastards were overworking his girl. He had such a ‘pleasant’ way of saying hello.

“‘M not in the mood Rafe.”

You voice was deep and low— monotone, and he knew not to prod any further. Typically, as one would know, Rafe would always push bounds but not with you.

Not with the one he knew he needed to stick around more than anything.

Jumping from his seat on the couch, he lets your limp body cling onto him whilst you kick your shoes off by the front door.

“You smell like onion rings,” Rafe concluded. Your job at the Wreck typically had you smelling like all sorts of blubber.

So straightforward and blunt, yet affectionate and merely sorrowful for the ache in your eyes.

“Run me a bath please, m’ gonna collapse.”

With that, he swoops one arm under your legs— carrying you so effortlessly. You stare up at him, hair freshly cut and a musk of freshness.

Rafe watched as you undessed in front of him, so feeble and weak he could hardly take it. A sharp pain daggering at his insides. Offering you his hand— holding it long enough until you settled into the bathtub. Rafe sat at the edge of the tub, craving to keep you company, and to partially make sure you wouldn’t drown from falling asleep in the bathtub.

Something so intimate about seeing his lover so vulnerable, falling apart before him.

In more ways than one.

“Tell me about your day.”

He needed to know who he had to make time to personally fuck with— possibly rearrange their face with one tightened fist. He knows he shouldn’t ask, but from your state— you’re holding too much of it, making your figure even more unstable by carrying that weight. Eyes beginning to glaze over, he knows he’s hit that nerve just right.

“S’just too fucking much, and m’not getting paid enough for this shit-“

To your surprise, as salty tears stream repeatedly down your face— Rafe’s thumb smoothed over the skin of your cheeks catching every single drop; not missing a beat.

Not to say you were stunned, but it’s Rafe.

You’ve always had to get use to the fact that he doesn’t show much emotion— but since the two of you became conjoined at the hip, he’s tried beyond belief.

With your mouth parted, your tears stop; the willing comfort striking you all at once. The corners of Rafe’s mouth pulling into a minuscule smile.

“Just let me take care of you, Princess.”

[kumasakka]

Hi do you write about manager kim?

And if you do can you make one about mr kim.

And if you did please dont do it smut.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. manager kim x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. your daughter set you up with your ex-husband even though you ended in bad terms — well you ended in bad terms, he had his reasons .

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.3k .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff. f!reader. INSPIRED BY DETECTIVE CONAN. self - made au kinda ! [reader is not replacing the actual mother, they got married after manager kim's past] . spoiler - free. safe for minors! crappy writing. manager kim's name never got mentioned. manager kim may seem ooc .

　“PLEASE!”

Minji plead, ready to get down onto her knees what she swore to never do infront of someone. But it's you we're talking about. And you're undoubtedly the mother Minji never had, who was once happily married with her father. But due to unknown reasons, you two divorced — he divorced you for whatever reason without letting you know the reason. You're still angry, up to this day.

"Get up, Minji. We're done discussing about this topic." you began pinching her ear with one hand, letting her yelp in pain.

"But mom! Dad is hopeless. You're hopeless too. You two aren't even interested in dating, only staring at your rings." she complained, finally standing up, "why are you even wearing those rings?!"

"You're still a child. You wouldn't understand." you huffed, avoiding her question as you eventually let go of her ear. "Now, if you're so free, you can help me with dinner."

She only groaned in annoyance before trailing after you to the kitchen, not letting out another sound after this — well that was until a light bulb lit up over her head. "How about going to a blind date. I will set you up with someone who is also divorced." she suggested and cut the onions like how you instructed her to. "Maybe you'll get over dad and stop wearing that ring which reminds you of him."

"Cut the onions smaller." you demanded while thinking about her offer, "...only if you promise you don't set me up with your father."

"Yes, yes! Promise! Thanks mom— ow!" and with that, she accidentally cut her own flesh.

Broken promise though.

Quietly, you sat in a somewhat loud yet cozy coffee shop while the man infront of you stared at his cup, not daring to break the silence. And you weren't on the better end, blankly watching how your fingers fidgeted around the ring, inwardly deciding to still keep it on. The child of the devil — literally the child of the devil smiled and wished you two good luck.

"I'll take my leave if you don't mind!" Minji stood up and quickly left the awkward scene.

The silence, covered mostly by the tuned out chattering from other tables, was never more uncomfortable for you than right now. You felt like a highschool girl, sitting infront of her ex boyfriend while wondering why he broke up without giving her any reasons. So you just stood up, not noticing how he was about to open his mouth to say something, anything to break the silence.

"If you could excuse me for a moment." you went to the toilette without sparing him a second glance.

"Of course..." he muttered, his eyes glanced over something.

As you reached your destination, you couldn't help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. "I'll never forgive Minji for this." you sighed out and closed your eyes. "I talk like a highschool kid." you wanted to slip off the ring to wash your hands but then you noticed that you weren't wearing it anymore. You look around frantically, searching for the small ring as you had a little breakdown because you did not find it.

Maybe, maybe it slipped when you stood up or when you were still sitting at the table. Somehow you were desperate. Even though the ring only reminded you of your divorce with him. So why are you still clinging to this damned ring that brought back unpleasant memories? Right. "I should just forget about it and go back." you ran your hand over your face as you just left the toilette again.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

Your house was a mess. Blankets and pillows all over the floor, every openable cabinet is open and your clothes were flying across the room. "I thought that I maybe lost it at home." you groaned and hit your head against your wardrobe. As you were lost in thoughts as you didn't hear the sound of ringing and knocking against your door. "Oh!" you swiftly stood up and walked to the door.

"Did I order something?" you muttered under your breath and opened the door slowly.

But as soon as it got opened, the faster it got closed before you ran to the toilette, looking into the mirror to fix your messy appearance and then running back to the door. "What do you want?" you asked, opening the same door you just slammed close infront of him. "Did Minji send you here to give me some flowers?" your eyes wandered down to the bouquet of flowers he was holding and then up to his bruised cheek.

"No! I'm giving you the flowers without any instructions..." he denied right away. "I came here without Minji."

"What do you want then?" you crossed your arms, considering whether you should put trust into his words and accept the flowers or just decline them straight away.

"I-I'm here to give you this." he stuffed his hand into his pocket and got out a small ring, giving it to it's rightful owner.

"Huh?" your arms dropped, your eyes softened. "H-How did you notice that I'm still... Where did you find it?"

"In the coffee shop." he answered as he pushed the bouquet forward so you would finally accept them. And you did, to his luck. "You used your other hand more often even though you're right/left-handed, you also played more with your hands than usual and you also tried to hide your right/left hand..."

After this, you couldn't help it. Your eyes widened slightly as the blood rushed to your cheeks. Was it because of embarrassment or rather flattery? "Thanks..." you mumbled your gratitude and held those flowers close to you with one hand, the other was ready to take the ring back. Just for him to gently grab your hand and slowly slip it back to your ring finger for you to watch

"Of course, no need to thank me." he said as if it didn't affect him at all. As if his heart wasn't about to leap out of his chest. He feels normal. Something that he would never call himself. Not with his past and line of work. "Do you have time this weekend?"

"I do." the reply came without wasting a second and it made him smile.

"Great. I'll pick you up at six pm." he lets your hand go before bowing slightly like he was a stranger but infact, he was never a stranger to you. Not even after divorcing you. "Good night."

"Thanks. Good night to you too..." you wished him, watching him take his leave as you stood at the entrance of your home with a bouquet of flowers and a glowing ring.

Maybe it didn't only bring back bad memories. Maybe you also thought back when you were the happiest with the brightest grin on your lips. Yes. Because of him, you were at the peak of happiness. The subtle actions and the gentle phrase of words of his. It made you happy and smile that shone brighter than the stars and sun itself.

bonus !

"—so that's why you came back home with a big bruise on your cheek?" Minji asked and her eyes drifted to her father's face. "Because you entered the women's bathroom to search for her ring and someone caught you?"

"You make it sound like I'm a pervert..." he sweatdropped. "..."

"...dad, why did you divorce mom?" she asked which followed the silence.

"Erm... Because they began to target her after they found out [name] is my wife." a bullet of cold sweat glided down his forehead.

"WHAT?!" Minji's voice was loud, booming through the car while she was sitting on the passenger seat. "YOU DIDN'T TELL HER?"

"Shhh..! Don't scream..."

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — btw anon, thanks for the request I had a lot of fun !! AND IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW, WE DON'T WRITE SMUT SO NO NEED TO WORRY <3

[cyberg4n]

✧ 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

paring: earth42!miles x fem!reader

warnings: slight cursing, sorta protective/jealous miles, fluff

a/n: i don’t speak spanish, hence the google translated spanish💀 but please lmk the proper corrections so i can edit them !!

summary: miles stops by your apartment, surprising you with a date.

your brows furrowed as you rub your temples — concentrating on your homework in front of you. you groan, dropping your head into your arms. you close your eyes, slowly feeling yourself doze off. it was only 7 o’clock, but you felt as if the night was gently getting to you. you jerk back up once your pen drops on the floor. you reach down to grab it, focusing on the stacks of papers on your desk. you mentally punch yourself for slacking off so fast. you continue scribbling away, scanning the words on the sheets. your door slowly creaks open, a head peaks around the corner. you turn your head, raising your eyebrows at the sight in front of you. miles stood there, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “hey,” you get up from your chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a soft kiss. his hands settle on your waist, slowly sliding up your back. you pull away, smiling. “did you break in or something?”

he grins, dangling a set of your keys in front of your face. “you cheeky bastard. you copied my keys?” you gasp dramatically. miles snickers, “what are you up to?” he asks, looking over at the scattered mess on your desk. you turn around, stiffly laughing. “just a shit ton of homework,” you shrug, “well, i was wondering if you’d wanna go out tonight.” he plops down on the edge of your bed as you make your way back to your desk. you click your tongue, “can’t make it, i need to finish all of this by tonight.” you point over to your stack of papers. he groans, leaning back on his hands.

“realmente disfrutaría tu compañía, princesa.” “i would really enjoy your company, princess.”

you can’t help but giggle at the nickname. “seriously, mrs. calleros is going to kill me if i don’t finish my missing work.” he scoffs — rolling his head back. “you know how she is!” he turns to you, a small smirk on his face. he gets up, walking over towards you. you look up at him as he grabs your hands. “c’mon — please, hermosa? you never get to hangout with me.” he intertwines his fingers into yours, “what are you talking about? we went out last week.” he grins, “yeah, but we haven’t hung out this week.” you laugh, rolling your eyes at him. you look over at your homework, contemplating whether or not you should go with miles — or finish your work like a good student. he squeezes your hands, waiting for an answer. you glance back at him, pondering for a second. “okay, i guess.” he grins, giving you a warm kiss. miles pulls you up from your arms, teasingly pulling you closer to the door.

“okay, hold on! i need to grab my jacket.” you mutter as you search the floor for your jacket. once you find it, you quickly toss it on, chasing after miles down the hallway. he opens the door for you, watching as you wait around the corner for him. he turns to the door, locking it. he follows behind you, resting his arm on your shoulder. you both continue walking in silence for a short period of time. “where are we going?” you ask. he hums, “you hungry?” you nod your head keenly, “yes, starving.” he rubs your shoulder with his hand, leading the two of you to a restaurant nearby.

he opens the door with his free hand, approaching the counter. the cashier was a boy, maybe a year younger than you. he greeted you, a warm smile on his face. you order your usual burger and fries with a large soda, while miles orders a burger, onion rings with a small soda. the cashier looks over at you, a glint in his eye. “you always order that same meal, huh?” you smile back, trying to be friendly. “yep, it's my usual combination that never disappoints.” the boy laughs. miles’ arm slides from your shoulder, down to your waist. “your totals goin’ to be $14.89.” before you can even reach into your pocket, miles already slides the cash over the counter. as you make your way to a table, you notice miles wasn’t following you. you turn around, tilting your head. “oh, go ahead, ma. i’ll wait for the food.” you give him a thumbs up before walking over to your seat.

you tap the table with your finger, looking over at the people walking by through the window. you fold your arms on the table, looking over at miles. he’s glaring down at the boy behind the register.

once he picked up the food, he sits down across from you. he sets the food tray down, aggressively munching on his fries. you can practically hear his anger in the air. “oh no, what’s wrong now?” you ask. miles sighs, “how did he even know that was your usual order? the nerve that guy has.” miles crunches on his burger. “ion like the way he was looking at you either.” you take a bite out of your burger, “who?” miles scoffs, “who? the cashier guy.” he continues shoving his fries in his mouth. “he wasn’t flirting, miles. he was just doing his job.” miles slumps back in his seat, looking at you. he leans over to take a sip of his soda, and you sneak a bite of his onion rings. “woah, hey! those are mine,” he exclaims — grabbing your wrist. you grin, straining your hand over to your mouth, swallowing the stolen onion ring whole. “what? sharing is caring.” you mumble through your chewing.

he shakes his head in a mock disapproval. “you’re lucky you’re cute, muñeco.” a slight flush appears on your face, you laugh. as the time passes, the two of you finish your meals and chatted about your day. you complain about how much of an ass mrs. calleros was, and he nods in agreement with everything you say. he tells you about a funny interaction he had while on a mission, and you can't help but giggle. once you finish up, he asks, “so, what are you feeling next?” you shrug. “maybe we could catch that new movie that just came out. how do you feel about that?” he leans closer to you, smiling — indicating that he agrees. “whatever you feel like doing today, hermosa.” you simper, reaching over to his hand. he looks at your hand, a smug look on his face. “how about we finish off with some dessert?” you nod eagerly. he gets up, walking over to the counter.

he returns back to the table, two chocolate sundaes in hand. you beam at the sight, groaning in joy, “i can just taste it already.” he laughs as he hands you your dessert. you scoop up a spoonful of ice cream and savor the sweet treat. you roll your eyes, over exaggerating your expression. “too good, this is too good.” miles hums in agreement, scarfing down the whole cup. you continue to eat your sundae, looking back up at him. “thank you, miles. this is so perfect.” his eyes bore into yours — he leans over the table to kiss you on the cheek. you titter, resting your chin into the palm of your hand. the two of you finish your sundaes, kicking each others feet underneath the table and holding hands.

please do not copy or repost my writings to any other sites !

[morganbritton132]

obsessed w this new saga with David and the other teachers.... perhaps them either coming over again for a small party - "it's mostly family!!" Hence being even more confused when even MORE famous people show up (THAT'S brony Erica???)

I’m picturing the same cookout from this post.

There are three new eighth grade teachers this year. Including David, there is Marissa and Jordan. Then there is Kathy, who has been at the school for two years. They are all trying to figure out what is going on with Steve Harrington.

The man is a complete mystery.

He’s a walking contradiction in a math pun sweatshirt and he is often the topic of conversation when the four of them are alone in the breakroom. Jordan describes him as ‘onion-like’ because he has many layers and Marissa always replies with, ‘yeah, a fucked up alien onion where each new layer is weirder than the last.’

It’s a bit cruel but also, they found an article about Starcourt Mall.

Who is just in a fire? Who saves a bunch of children from a structure fire that collapsed on top of them and doesn’t make it their whole personality for the rest of forever? Who just never mentions it ever?

Steve Harrington, apparently.

After David (and Kathy) left Steve’s house more confused about the mild-mannered math teacher than ever, he went home and googled ‘Eddie Harrington.’ All he found was a link to a Facebook page for some dentist.

So, like, who the hell is he even married to, right? The guy has a Grammy but not a Wikipedia page? What’s up with that?

All David knows is that when Anita (the teacher that’s probably closest to Steve) invites everybody over for a cookout and says that your partners are more than welcomed, he’s going. When Steve asks if it’d be okay if Erica stopped by on her way to the airport and Anita said yes, he’s definitely going.

He is not going to miss the opportunity to see the kid that gave her dad psychic damage by introducing him to the fucked up parts of the My Little Pony fandom. No way.

Kathy informs everybody that she will NOT be bringing her husband, but she will bring booze.

David arrives too early and ends up helping in the kitchen. He’s slicing up tomatoes with the world’s dullest knife when Steve gets there. He can’t see the front door, but he can hear Anita ask, “Oh, where’s your service doggie?”

“It’s his day off,” He hears Steve joke, “Brought the human instead.”

And then David hears the man of mystery’s man of mystery himself because Eddie says with 100% impulsive thinking and 0% brain-to-mouth filter, “Yeah, he brought his service top instead.”

David just knows that Steve is giving Eddie the same dead-eyed look of unbelievable that is reserved for students that mix their chocolate milk with peas and dare each other to drink it in the silence that follows. Anita, bless her heart, replies as happy and clueless as can be, “Oh, that’s cute. Because you provide a top-notch service.”

“Never had any compl- ow!”

The first time David gets a good look at them, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back, looking over his shoulder at the pictures of Anita’s grandkids she has on her phone. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around his waist and Steve is holding the other one, fiddling with the rings on it. They look so casual, like they’re always standing that close together.

David watches as Anita points in the direction of the drinks cooler and Eddie slips away with a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and then another to his cheek. They hold hands until they absolutely have to let go. It’s cute. Marissa, next to him, scoffs and says, “Gag me with a spoon, they’re fucking adorable.”

Eddie returns to Steve with two beers and a Smirnoff Ice for Anita, gets another kiss and clearly calls Steve ‘sweetie’ when he clinks their bottles together. Steve throws his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie tucks his hand into Steve’s back pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

David loses track of Steve and Eddie for a while, catching them in his peripheral as he mingles with everybody. He seems them steal a kiss. He sees them laughing at something Kathy says. He sees them holding hands as Eddie looks utterly lost during a discussion of the baseball season.

At one point, he sees Eddie stand up on the bench of the picnic table and get yanked down by Steve. They’re both laughing and Steve gives him a kiss that is not exactly chaste.

Cindy rolls her eyes at them and says that they’re always like that.

Him and Jordan are playing cornhole against Steve and Eddie. He’s almost positive that Eddie is not as bad at the game as he’s pretending to be, but just likes when ‘Stevie baby’ guides him through how to throw the beanbags. If it wasn’t for Steve excusing himself than he probably wouldn’t have noticed the big SUV parked in the driveway.

His first thought when he sees Erica is ‘oh, she must be adopted’ followed immediately by ‘wait, duh’ and then by ‘hey, wait a minute.’

Steve gets stopped by her bodyguard before he can hug her with a big threatening hand on his shoulder. David’s still trying to figure out why she looks so familiar when Erica says to the bodyguard, “Uh, excuse you. Do not touch him. He was my first bodyguard, have some respect.”

Steve scoffs, “I was your babysitter.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, full of sass. Eddie is a couple steps back, grinning ear to ear. He loves when Erica and Steve get into it. “Did you bleed for me? Did you fight for me? Did you, Steve Harrington, get tortured so I made it out safe? I think so. Bodyguard.”

Eddie finally greets her with a bow, “Lady Applejack.”

Erica gives him a flat look and tells her bodyguard, “You can tase that one.”

David is still reeling from the words ‘babysitter’ and ‘torture’ that he probably would’ve missed Marissa in his ear if she wasn’t so goddamn loud, “Holy shit, that’s a fucking US Senator.”

Jordan is quieter when she mutters, “Language.”

Later in the evening when the sun is starting to set and they should all really go home and prep their lesson plans for next week, Anita’s husband lights a bonfire. David is sitting across from the fire from Steve and Eddie and he so tempted to ask what Eddie does for a living when Steve whispers something to him and then stands up quickly.

He can’t even ask what that was about because Eddie gets up and follows him, almost matching Steve’s quick steps into the house. They’re gone for a while, long enough that David gets up to check on Steve. He looked pretty pale when he rushed out of here.

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them, and he stops. Steve sounds tired but reassuring as he repeats, “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine now.”

He hears Eddie respond with, “I know, baby. I know, but rest with me for a minute, kay?”

When he pokes his head around the turn in the staircase, he can see the bottom of Steve’s Nikes hanging over the top landing. He can also see the bottom of Eddie’s boots where he’s crouched over Steve. His first reaction is to think he stumbled on them in a compromising position, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.

“You just had a seizure, take your time getting your bearings, sweetheart. Do you wanna go home?” Eddie asks in a cacophony of jingling metal rings and chains. Steve makes a noise that Eddie interprets, “Okay, do you want me to give you space?”

“No, come –“ The sound of metal clinking together doesn’t get louder, just more and when David pokes his head around the corner again, Eddie is straddled across Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands are on his hips and then higher, pushing up Eddie’s shirt clumsily just feeling him. “Feel floaty.”

“I’ll keep you grounded, baby.”

David knows he should leave, or at least looks away, but he stuck frozen to the floor at the sight of the scar tissue running up Eddie’s sides and back. They’re deep and jagged, and old. It looks like he was torn open and sewed back shut, and it takes David a long time to get his feet to go back down the stairs.

He goes back out to the fire a little dazed and later, it’s only Eddie that returns. He whispers something to Anita and then disappears into the night.

When Cindy makes a comment about Steve leaving without a proper goodbye, David tells her to shut up.

[aloysiavirgata]

Fisher King prompt: dark crescendoing to light. Daniel Waterson and his baggage come back into her now-married life; maybe by way of the autopsy table. A dark case comes across Mulder’s desk. You pick. A happy surprise at the end to bring them both out of it?

Thanks, lady.

It is the dead nurse that catches his attention. Two days back from his honeymoon, attaboys and filthy jokes and cigars and a stack of manila folders on his dust-rimed desk.

Pendrell whistles when he sees Mulder, makes a predictable playing-doctor joke. He leers as though it obscures the soulful puppy wetness of his face. As though he hasn’t noticed Dana at crime scenes before, the autumn bonfire of her hair. Her tourmaline eyes.

Mulder thumbs the band on his left ring finger, spins it a little in the cool morning light. Flips them all off with good-natured grouchiness as he makes his way to the elevator. He thinks it might be fun to be an old man, to listen to the slap of his bedroom slippers on the grocery store linoleum.

The air in his office smells like cardboard boxes, like ghosts of lo mein and forgotten pizza. Copier toner. Pencil shavings.

His wife says, “Honestly, Mulder,” and makes chicken sandwiches from dinner leftovers, makes him salads with salmon and almonds and avocados and says he needs to gain eight pounds. He’s taken to her demands like a stray cat adjusting to life indoors. He’s growing glossy and sleek, full of essential amino acids.

Full of life.

***

There is no congestion in any of the organs. No petechiae in her eyes, no blood clots in the fragile slices of brain. Lips, mouth, esophagus free of corrosion, not an aneurysm the size of a poppy seed. The bruises and claw marks on her gray throat are her own doing. There are over a dozen witnesses.

Her nails are clotted with her own crumpled skin.

Dana pokes her finger into the aorta, sniffs the dead, butcher-shop air of Ludovica’s mouth. She prods at the lungs and hunts for lesions and surfactant. The nurse’s stomach contains a half-digested bagel and tuna salad. The muscular walls are in the very pink of health. She has lungs like freshly chewed bubblegum.

Dana huffs a strand of hair off her lip. She does not want to call him.

***

“What killed her?” Mulder asks, around a mouthful leftover quiche. God it’s good. She caramelized the onions, used two semesters of organic chemistry on the pastry and can declaim on the Maillard Reaction in a voice fit for Showtime.

“I’m working on it,” his wife says, brisk. “Thus far it seems to be nothing, which is a bit of a problem, medically speaking.”

“How embarrassing,” Mulder says, hunting around for another chunk of broccoli. “To die of nothing. You talk to this Waterston chappie yet?

Silence.

“Dr. Scully?”

A sigh.

Mulder’s brow furrows. “Dana Katherine, what gives?”

She sighs again. “You remember that med school professor I told you about? Funny story…”

***

He gazes at her the way tourists gawp at the Mona Lisa; not with a particular appreciation, just a bit awed that they can check it off their bucket lists.

Twice, for Daniel. A certain chumminess. A hint of inside jokes and favorite restaurants and that-lovely-inn-we-stayed-at. Of possessiveness. Territoriality.

Mulder shakes his head, just a twitch. Just enough to clear Daniel’s smug carnal knowledge of his wife away. Mulder’s fucked people’s daughters as well. People’s wives. There was one at Oxford, Honora, her husband a full professor and he -

Mulder doesn’t say this. He doesn’t say anything as Daniel stares at his Rossetti wife, undoubtedly thinks about the determined twitch of her twenty-one year old ponytail and her scuffed Keds and her slipshod Navy brat graces and her body like Artemis bathing by moonlight.

But Daniel’s alone and Mulder isn’t.

Dana isn’t alone either because, against all reason and karma, she’s married him, married Fox Mulder, like it was an absolutely sane thing to do, and her family simply went along with it.

“Tell me what you saw,” says Mulder, with the gentle absolution of a priest. “No judgement here,” he lies. She was hardly more than a girl, she was an innocent, she trusted you, you fucking asshole, you predator, you-

Daniel looks at Dana. Looks down at his surgeon’s hands. No ring on any of his fingers.

Daniel closes his eyes and looks at nothing.

“We began a midline sternotomy, absolutely routine, Suddenly Ludovica - Nurse Giordano - grabbed her throat and said she couldn’t breathe. She…she screamed Diavola! Said there was sulfur, said it was mustard gas, but none of the rest of us smelled a damn thing. But she was thrashing on the floor of the OR and our patient was-“

He looks around then, catches Dana’s eye, shyness in his expression. Shyness in his fatherly face. Dana had looked up at it for approval, no doubt. In what she probably thought was passion. Maybe even love.

Dana nods encouragingly and Mulder feels it then, the weight of years. He understands in that moment that time really is the fourth dimension; that it has a hot, heavy plasticity into which you can sink. He understands the realness of an event horizon, that they are all being pulled towards the unfinished thing between Daniel and his wife, Ludovica Giordano’s corpse included.

His wife was a physics major, his wife rewrote Einstein with the ebullient narcissism of the young.

He understands that his wife and Daniel speak the same primal, arcane language of science. He is a lowly psychologist, the major you pick when you can’t get into dental school but still want to Help Others.

Kepler’s Third Law tells us that intensity equals the inverse of the square of the distance from the source.

And he’s brought Daniel back into her orbit.

***

“I can’t believe you fucked him,” Mulder gasps into her tender seashell ear. An inch from her extraordinary brain.

“I was a child,” she hisses back. “Essentially. Don’t stop, Christ, don’t - I was a child, I-“

She was, she was, she was Eos newly born, she was radiant and young, she was Persephone to Daniel’s Hades, she was fresh milk at Ostara, and a sunrise over the Atlantic.

“Did you love him?”

Her thighs so taut and pale and quivering. Her wedding dress, her misty veil. Her palimpsest skin, on which he can rewrite himself.

“I thought I did but but it wasn’t this, it was never this, it was never you, I-“

Mulder comes in her, groaning, feels the tiniest sting of shame at how good it is to reclaim her from this other man.

***

“Dana,” Daniel says, heavy-tongued for Mulder’s consecrated, Catholic wife. He is hard; he shifts in the uncomfortable chair.

Mulder knows and Dana knows and the air is thick with this knowledge but strangely not unpleasant. The air is July just before a thunderstorm. The air is dense and verging. Primal, fecund, cataclysmic.

Hot.

Green.

Alive.

The air tastes like a 9-volt battery. He wants to put a baby into his wife.

“You were there,” Mulder says, his buckskin hands woven and laced. “What did you see?”

Daniel looks at Dana, Daniel is here for Dana, because he believes she is cold and lonely and alone in the way of the outer planets. He still thinks only he can warm her.

(He doesn’t know, Daniel, not really, that there is a solid core beneath the icy mist.)

She’s too distant and abstruse and Daniel doesn’t know.

***

Daniel smirks at Mulder, this old man who felt briefly alive in the hot juncture of his wife’s thighs; smirks as though he’s done anything real at all. They view the human heart so differently, he and Daniel.

Dana - Dr. Scully - rests her palms against her sharp tweed knee. She only wants to know what stops any human heart from beating. What shuts the brain down, from prefrontal cortex in a cascade to the lowly lizard stem.

“What did you see, Daniel?” She is poised and tensed. She is waiting. She is untouchable.

Mulder - Fox - is disarmed by the chill of her haughty face. Her Plutonian eyes are so very, very cold . So very, very far.

Ice could never be so warm.

***

“‘Maggie,” he breathes, into her amber light. Into her aura, in her husband’s office, after Mulder went out for their lunch order.

“No,” Dana says. “I don’t care. Tell me about the nurse.”

Daniel huffs. “I don’t know, it was nothing, Dana, Maggie said-“

“I don’t care,” Dana says, crisp. “I don’t care about your daughter. You certainly didn’t, when you brought me to your bed.

Daniel is appalled. “Dana, you were-“

“I know what I was,” she replies. “I knew what I was doing and I don’t regret it, not really. But I didn’t understand what you were, not then. And you should regret me, Daniel.”

He looks at her, his brows drawn.

He looks away, back through the years. Dana, all sharpened Ticonderogas and her mouth an unplucked apricot. Skin like fresh-churned butter.

“She was…she was gasping,” he says to the wall of of clippings. To the Flatwoods Monster and wendigos and little lost girls and stills from the Zapruder Footage. “She was clawing at her throat, she…diavola.”

Diavola.

Daniel looks at the ceiling. “She clawed her throat to ribbons,” he says. “She said our patient was full of demons, she said…” He shakes his head and looks at Dana again.

Dana knows. Dana has seen. Has read and wondered and wondered, considered the Gerasene demoniac in the synoptic gospels. Tooms at her belly on the chilly tile of her bathroom…

It will do no good. Whatever her husband says, the truth is not always a panacea. The patient has lived and Ludovica has died and all anyone wants is official paper with Dana’s name at the bottom.

A reckoning, now. A choice.

“Anaphylaxis?” Dana murmurs, in the perfume and cashmere of a different rich man’s wife. She puts a little throatiness in her voice now, like she did after Dr. Waterston spoke to her in private about Starling’s Law. She can give him this. She can give Ludovica’s family this.

Diavola.

Mulder is right, Mulder is almost always right. But Mulder is right in his own time and Ludovica’s family needs her home.

Daniel catches the lifeline she throws, grateful.

Humbled.

Daniel, when his gaze returns, is a bit smaller in her eyes. “Yes,” he says. “It must have been.”

***

They’re eating dinner at the Peruvian chicken place on the corner because Dana is hollow and Mulder has moderately weaponized his own culinary incompetence.

“Ansel died today,” she says, poking at her rice.

Mulder nearly chokes on a mouthful of black beans. “What?!”

“Died. Massive coronary at his desk. Dead within seconds.”

Mulder gapes. Ansel Jordan, Chief Medical Examiner in DC; the alpha and omega of the unexpectedly dead in the District. “He ran marathons.”

Dana nods into the middle distance. “He ran marathons. He had a treadmill in his office. He was 57 and he was my boss and I split his chest apart with a Stryker before his body had even cooled this morning. My god, I forgot what warm tissue feels like.”

She looks up with her wide, delphinium eyes. “They asked me, Mulder.”

They asked? He is appalled. “They asked you to autopsy him? That’s really fu-“

She shakes her head. “No, nobody asked me that. No one would ever. I volunteered, it was the right thing to do, for my colleagues. For Ansel. We were hardly close but I had tremendous respect for the man.”

Ansel was a runner. He ate well and drank in moderation. He cared for his body like a classic car; starting to slow down but with lots of miles left.

The human body is strange and unpredictable.

“Are you okay?” How do you cut open a man you know? He cannot believe she didn’t call this morning but also of course she didn’t call this morning. She is an eternal riddle, a beautiful enigma.

“I’m surprisingly fine,” she says. “I mean, it’s horrible and pointless and tragic. But the process of an autopsy…it soothed me. I knew what to do and there was a…a checklist.”

He smiles, soft. “You’re always a doctor first.”

Dana shrugs, fluid and dismissive. “I guess.”

He realizes then, awed. Adoring. “They want you to… to step in, to be Chief. Dana, that’s incredible, that’s a huge honor. I’m sorry it’s come at the cost of Ansel, but Christ. It’s tremendous.”

He will never achieve this in his own career and is delighted that she can.

Dana nods slowly, a blush creeping up her fine, pale cheeks. She spears a plantain and examines it on the end of her fork. “It’s obviously not a formal offer yet, my god, he’s only just been released to the family, but yes. It’s tremendous.” She bites into the plantain.

He thinks back to that feeling of wanting a baby, wanting her to have it, and knows that the new Chief Medical Examiner of DC will have other pressures, other concerns.

She’s expressed interest in babies in a vague sort of way, but doesn’t want them like he does. Dana grew up with hand-me-downs and home haircuts and spaghetti the last week of every month. She knows that babies grow into scraped-kneed children who need lunch money and trombones and French tutors and football uniforms.

He’s rich enough for it all, for night nurses and nannies, but he knows her body is not a rental property. He wants a baby, he does, but he also doesn’t care if it means this for her. He doesn’t care if her star can rise.

“I love you,” he says, raising his plastic cup of horchata. “And I’m so goddamn sorry about Ansel.”

She lifts hers back, his wife, her old-master face and her slapdash smile. “Thank you,” she says, still pained. “And slaínte.”

“L’chaim,” he replies. To life.