#he went like an onion ring

[chililizardsplayhouse]

[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!

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[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.”

[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 !

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 8

Hello! Thanks to WIP Wednesday I managed to finish a chapter of each of the stories so things are moving right a long with this story and the others. With any luck, I'll have Secret Tunnel (game show AU) finished by the time the weekend is over with. Fingers crossed.

In this Steve goes on a bit of a roller coaster of emotion. Also a bit of naughtiness in the middle, so 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Steve put together the package he had be planning after he ate his burger. It was no chili burger from Benny’s but it was really good. It had caramelized onions with a thousand island dressing on the bun which was some kind of fancy bread.

Now the fries, that was something to rave about. They were seasoned and deep fried. He had eaten almost all of them before he even touched the burger.

Then once he was done with the package, he went down to the front desk for them to mail it off. Now he was at loose ends again. He could go back up to his room, but he really didn’t want to.

It had only been three days since he got kicked out and he was bored. So he looked around the lobby for inspiration. Then he spotted a discarded newspaper. Probably someone who wanted to read the financial stuff and found their stocks had tanked.

That was what his dad did every day. He didn’t understand it anyway. You were paying for nothing. Even when things were really good, you didn’t want to sell your shares because things might get better. But if the stock drops than you’ve lost money. It was gambling in the worst sort of way.

But he picked it up and began flipping through the pages, looking for the movie listings. When he found them he looked through the ads to see if there was anything good. Which there wasn’t.

With a sigh, Steve put the paper down. He chewed on his nails for a moment or two. Then he snapped his fingers. He’ll call Dustin. See if the kids wanted to go to the arcade. He had money to burn, so why not let the kids go nuts for a couple of hours.

He looked at his watch and then winced. Oops! Maybe that would be better for tomorrow as it was way later than he thought. But he could call Eddie.

That brought an instant smile to face and he dashed back upstairs. He walked into the room just as the phone began ringing. His smile turned into a grin as he walked across the room. He picked up the phone and said, “Hello!”

“You sound happy, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “You have a good day?”

Steve laughed and kicked his feet. “Much better now that I’m talking to you. I sent off your surprise and it should get to you by the time you get to LA.”

“Aww, baby,” Eddie said. “I can’t wait.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted to apologize to you about Chrissy. She was fucking rude to you and I chewed her out for it.”

Steve blinked for a moment. What now? He was used to people being rude and dismissive to him. No one ever apologized for that. “You did?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie said sternly. “I did. She thought that this little arrangement of ours was going to be temporary, but when I told her I had paid for the room for six months, she was very upset. She told me I couldn’t just throw money around like that. That’s when I told her about my little presents for you. Then she really hit the fan.”

“Oh,” he murmured. “I don’t want to cause you trouble with your management, but I–I don’t have anywhere else to go. My dad is still out there trying to make my life difficult.” His bottom lip began to shake.

“But don’t worry a thing, pretty bird,” Eddie cooed. “I got her sorted out and now she understands how important this is for me and somehow my impassioned speech managed to sway my bandmates too. I don’t think they knew how bad things had gotten for you.”

“What–what did you tell them?” Steve asked softly, his voice beginning to break.

“Nothing that they didn’t already know,” Eddie soothed. “I just made it as dire as possible so that they got the message loud and clear.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. That–that he could handle. Because as much as he wanted to shrug this off and pretend he didn’t need or want help, the truth was that he did need Eddie’s help and if getting that help meant getting all of Corroded Coffin on board and their manager, too then that’s what Steve would have to accept that.

“I really appreciate this,” he murmured. “I knew my dad was going to make trouble. I just didn’t think he’d go this far. To make sure I didn’t have anything but my car and my clothes.”

“I know, little Canary,” Eddie said, “just put your trust in me and I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve breathed. “I owe you so much and I don’t know how I can pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, I’m just happy to be able to help you.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes as tears began to well. He was just so overwhelmed from the kindness of a stranger that he was about to start bawling right there on the phone. A hiccuping sob escaped his lips and then it was like the floodgates had opened. He just sobbed and sobbed. No one had ever been this kind to him before.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “I wish I could be there to hold you. So this will just have to do.” And then he started singing softly. It was gentle and slow and spoke of having a safe place to land.

Slowly his sobs slackened and he gave a final hiccup. “That was beautiful. Did you write it?”

“Sure did,” Eddie said proudly. “First song I ever wrote in fact. Wrote it the night the court awarded permanent custody of me to my Uncle Wayne. I knew from that moment on that my dad couldn’t come back and hurt me again.”

Steve rolled over onto his belly with a sigh. “That must have felt so good. Having someone you trusted to step up and take care of you.”

“He’s a good man,” Eddie agreed warmly. “And this is me paying that kindness forward to you, little Canary.”

Steve let out a small shuddering breath, letting the knot in his chest loosen. “So tell me about your concert tonight,” he said. “Where were you playing again?”

Eddie made a small huff of laughter. “We were in Texas tonight...”

Steve let Eddie’s warm voice wash over him.

“You feeling sleepy, my little Canary?” Eddie murmured after awhile.

He let out a little sleepy snuffle. “No.”

Eddie chuckled. “If you say so sweetheart.” And he continued to talk until the snuffles became a soft sonorous snore.

“Good night, Stevie.”

~

Steve woke up to the dial tone in his ear again. He moaned as he rolled over on his back and ran his fingers through his hair.

He needed to stop falling asleep to the musician’s voice. It was really becoming a problem. It always made him wake up hard as a fucking rock. He picked up the phone and put back in its cradle. He flopped back on the bed. He lifted the covered to glare at his aching erection.

He palmed his cock in an attempt to get it go to down. But instead it made it worse. He pushed down harder, but his own roughness made him moan. He could feel the outline of cock as it throbbed against his hip.

He hadn’t gone this long without at least rubbing himself off since he was a stupid freshman. He knew he should wait until he was in the shower, but the walk would be so fucking painful. Steve threw off the covers and then shoved the front of his shorts down to free his cock. He then slowly unbuttoned his sleep shirt. Rubbing his nipples and stroking his chest to get himself really riled up.

If he was going to this, he was going to wring out as pleasure out of this as he possibly could. He lifted his hips and slid the shorts off as slow as he could.

He brought his hands back up his legs, his thighs spreading as his palms cupped his cock. It was leaking at the tip and he dragged his thumb over his slit, smearing it across the glans. He moaned again. This time louder. That felt so good. He did it again, going the other direction. Slow and rough.

He imagined Eddie watching him. Directing his every move. How hard he should pull. How rough he should get.

The way he came hard and long was a testament to Eddie’s raw sexual power, and Steve’s vivid imagination. He grabbed a couple of tissues from the tissue box next to the bed and cleaned himself up the best he could.

Then he shucked off the top and waddled into the shower, tossing the tissues on his way.

~

It was a little bit before noon by the time Steve got to call Dustin.

“Steve!” Dustin greeted warmly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“What are you dorks up to today?” he asked bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Dustin whined. “I don’t think we really have any plans. At least not together.”

“Call up the goon squad and find out,” Steve said. “And then call me back.”

Steve could feel the kid’s skepticism through the phoneline as he thought about it. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll call you back.”

Just before he hung up, Dustin bit out. “We call ourselves The Party, Steve. Not the goon squad.”

“You call yourselves the party Steve?” he murmured. “That’s so sweet of you–”

There was a click and a dial tone. Steve grinned at the receiver before putting it down on the cradle. He threw open his wardrobe and started shifting through his new clothes. He was going somewhere with a lot of kids and soda and greasy pizza, so nothing too fancy.

Not finding anything fit the bill, he went through his drawers. He decided on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue tanktop with a black short sleeved button up over the top. He fixed his hair in the mirror and then pulled on his old sneakers. He didn’t want to get any of his new shoes sticky.

He had run his fingers through his hair one more time when the phone rang.

“Hello!” he greeted.

“Well, hello to you too little Canary,” the warm velvet voice sounded through phone. “You sound happy today.”

Steve’s gut felt like warm chocolate had pooled there. “Hi-ya, Eddie.”

“I was just calling to tell you that I’ll be out of rang cell phone wise and so you won’t be able to call me until I get to Arizona tomorrow.”

“Awww...” Steve huffed. “Way to make me sad.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie purred. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, so that I didn’t think I was avoiding you.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that.”

“Have a good day, okay?” Eddie said.

“I’ll try!” Steve chirped back.

He barely hung up the phone before it rang again, his hand never leaving the receiver. “Hey.”

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “I tried to call you but your line was busy!”

Steve let out a long slow sigh. “Other people do call me, Dusty. Like the guy who’s paying for all this?”

Dustin huffed. “Well if you would just tell me who he is, maybe I would be more forgiving...”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Dusty,” Steve bit out. “I don’t want it getting back to my dad who it is. And before you tell me you’ll never tell. You’ll say something when you think no one is around and someone will hear you. Until my dad gives up his little Crusade, I ain’t tell you shit.”

“Come on, Steve...” Dustin begged.

“I was going to take everyone to the arcade today but if you’re going to keep hounding me about it, maybe I won’t.”

The line went silent.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin murmured. “I just want to make sure he’s a good guy and not taking advantage you.”

Steve let out a breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes tightly. “He isn’t even in Hawkins right now and I don’t know when he’ll be back, okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.”

Then he held the phone away from his ear.

Wait for it.

Wait…for…it.

“You want to take everyone to the arcade?!” Dustin screamed.

“Sure do, bud,” Steve said once it was safe to do so.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Dustin screeched. “When? What time are you come over? Details please!”

Steve worked out all the details and sorted out rides. When they finally hang up, Steve positively beaming.

Eddie was paying forward the kindness his uncle gave to him to Steve. And Steve was paying it forward to his kids. And that left a warm feeling in his chest like nothing else could.

~

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

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

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

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

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

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

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

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[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.

[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 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 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 .

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. manager kim x reader .

⋆.˚ 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.

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

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.

"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?"

"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."

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

"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.

"—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?"

bonus !

"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

[tarjapearce]

Could you do a Miguel story where he proposes to Y/n(female reader)and she doesn’t even realize it because she was daydreaming about food?Its fluff.

Yeah, me and this reader have a lot in common with food ❤️.

-----------

Fluff under the cut ~

Your senses tingled with the so many aromas that filled the room. Fresh bread, stews, sweet baked fresh goods, your mouth almost salivated. Damned be Pavlov, cause every time you heard a ding, your head turned to the dispatching window to see if it was your order. And there it was Miguel.

"I don't know how... this turned into what my current feelings are-"

Another ding, your eyes casted to the dispatching window. To say you were hungry was an understatement, you went to a mission with Miguel, almost get killed, but walked it off, thanks to Miguel.

You went straight for the cafeteria to try the new spicy chicken empanadas. To your surprise they had ran out quite quickly. And then Miguel had asked you to follow him, that there was something he needed to discuss with you.

"And I think it's time for me to come clean and say that... you're quite reliable and always give your best-"

A new aroma was added to the list. Chocolate. Freshly baked chocolate croissants and other choux pastries that steamed up away in the cooling racks. You licked your lips, your eyes settled in Miguel once more

"You're one of the oldest members in the Spider Society, and it's always..." he cleared up his throat as he put both his hands on the table, he wasn't one for stutter, much less to be nervous, but considering that he was about to choose a new partner for life, he had all the right to do so.

Why your food was taking so long, was a mystery. But damn, that french onion soup from the other table looked fantastic. You had wanted to surprise Miguel with some of his favorite food, and were kinda been bugging LYLA about it. Even asking her for the recipes to try at home.

He was always saving your ass when things were too overwhelming in the battlefield. He was reliable. Or so he had been saying. One thing you found cute is that sometimes he spoke too much about himself, as giving and living the example. But you knew better. With a lot of patience on both ends, he had let you in, get closer and of course, things just kept growing from there.

"So I would like to know... if you'd like to marry me?"

Another ding and your eyes shined with joy upon watching the food coming your way from the dispatching window.

"Oh my god, yes!"

Miguel blinked for a moment and sighed, releasing the breath he didn't know he had trapped in for so long.

"That's... Good to hear." He took your hand and placed the ring quite fast and he cleared up his throat. You looked up at him, and then at his hand holding yours, with a ring on your finger.

Your stomach growled and now it was your time to blink.

"W-What's that?"

The food was placed on your table, as your order of spaghetti with meatballs was brought.

"You just... agreed to marry me, (Name)" His brows furrowed in confusion and mild annoyance.

"Oh..."

"But I guess-"

"No" You withdrew your hand to hide it. and smiled.

"For you to give it someone else? Nope. You're mine. You kidding me?" You pouted before giving a bite to the meatball.

Miguel just stared at you with confused, yet loving eyes.

[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.

[pikablu410]

His Mayoral Duties

“Mayor Bradley! How do you feel now that you’ve just won a second term in office with a surprise landslide victory?!” A man with a microphone asked.

“I’m honored the people of Stocksville have chosen me to lead them again. I’m excited to get back in my office and make changes for the better.” The man confidently said, adjusting his casual yet sleek blue suit. He combed over his curls with his hand to make sure they weren’t frizzled.

“Mayor! To what do you contribute to such a meaningful success?” A blonde woman in a red suit nearly jumped out of the crowd. She, of course, was talking about how a black man, like himself, was the first to win a reelection as mayor in Stocksville.

“I think my policies speak for themselves. Our economy is doing better, crime is at an all time low and people are content with their lives in the city.” The mayor confidently responded.

“And mayor, what do you have to say to those who believe your victory was the result of fraud?” A man asked before being pushed back into the crowd.

If the people had known him personally, or had studied his body language, they would’ve known Scott staggered for a brief moment before responding. “I ask that they wait for the voting office to put out their data, and, for now, work with me in making progress towards a better Stocksville.” He smiled.

“How could they have known?! I was completely certain it would be a secret-” A man with shaggy brown hair walked back and forth before being interrupted by Scott.

“Just shut up! I know my office isn’t rigged with cameras or mics I’m not aware of. There’s no way it could’ve gotten out.” He said, leaning forward onto his desk. 

“Then how would they have known we used dark ma-” Scott almost literally zipped the man’s lips this time.

“Roger. There is absolutely, assuredly, zero reason for people to believe we did anything suspicious other than their own conspiratorial beliefs. We have done nothing wrong, and there’s no proof otherwise.”

Roger wiped the sweat from his neck, “Well…”

Scott glared, “Roger.”

“I’m not saying I kept the book, but-”

“Roger!” Scott growled. A rarity for him.

“What if I need a demon for a hot chick or something? You never know.” Roger, now much more casually, admitted.

“If by ‘demon’ you mean ‘advice’ then sure, but you definitely don’t mean what you said literally, right?” Scott said, with a thick emphasis on the sarcasm.

“Relax Brandon, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure there’s no negative side effects.” Roger started, “You did do what the de- what the advice told you to do, right?”

Brandon sighed, pulling out the greasy takeout bag, “Yeah, I bought a burger after I won. I really don’t get how this was equivalent to whatever that…advice did.” 

He took a large bite out of the burger, finding the taste divine. Scott quickly took another, and then a sip of his soda.

“Woah, slow down their champ. Just because you won doesn’t mean you can’t get sick from eating like that.” Roger advised, but it seemed Brandon wasn’t listening.

“Mmph, sorry,” Scott swallowed the last of his burger, “I don’t know why, but that was the best burger I’ve ever had from McTasties.” Finishing his soda and the fries, Scott went on, “I think I’m gonna get another. They must’ve changed their recipe or something!” 

Roger noticed how Scott wiped the grease onto his blue suit, which, thanks to the dark color, didn’t detract much from it. However, he thought back to how Brandon got pissed off when he spilled water onto a similar suit. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head home. Call me if you need anything not politics related.” Roger said, the drawstrings of his green and gray hoodie flipping through the air. 

Despite his calm demeanor, Roger was still thinking about his friend’s behavior. Just what was it that they had summoned the night before?

“Destiny! Two more orders of McTasties double cheeseburgers. One with fries and one with onion rings. Of course I want two milkshakes!” Scott said over his newly installed desk microphone. He had gotten tired of constantly walking down to ask her to order him more food. 

“Right away Mayor Bradley. Oh, city council wanted me to notify you that they’re meeting for ordinance 5507 in 10 minutes.” Destiny replied.

Scott smiled and thanked Destiny. He slowly sat up from his chair and walked over to his mirror. His stomach bulged against the white undershirt and blue suit he adorned. A ketchup stain marked the white and a grease one the blue suit. It had been a stressful…2 weeks in office. Scott hadn’t taken the time to think about how he had gained weight so quickly, or how fast time had gone by. 

Regardless, Scott decided to head down to the council room and wait for his colleagues there. 

Opening his doors, he found an unwanted surprise.

“Scott! I really need to talk to you ri-” Roger nearly shouted.

“Can it wait? I have McTasties and a council meeting waiting for me downstairs?” Scott replied, rolling his eyes.

“I really don’t think you should. I’m not sure how much longer you have?” Roger panicked, welcoming himself into Scott’s office.

Raising an eyebrow, Scott now fully entered the conversation, “What, do I have a disease or something?” “You might as well! You know that ‘advice’ we summoned the other night?” Roger asked, using his hands to sign quotation marks in the air, “Well, apparently that deal was just its way to get ahold of you.”

“Wait, you mean I’m possessed?” Scott scoffed at his own words.

“Basically! It’s like an infection,” Roger opened the book Scott had berated him for 2 weeks ago, “The longer you don’t treat it, the more it affects you. This weight you’ve gained isn’t natural.” Roger poked Scott’s belly to emphasize his point, Scott smacking his friend’s hand away.

“So what, I've gained a few pounds. I’ve been stressed and cooped up in this office, I’ll be fine.” Scott said, stifling a belch.

Roger looked at his friend with glazed eyes, “You’ve barely done anything but eat McTasties and watched how the media is praising your election.”

Scott didn’t want to admit it, but as he looked at the greasy takeout wrappers on the floor, Roger was right. He hadn’t done much other than eat and pass a few laws that were already in the works before he was elected. But then, a lightbulb.

Well, a buzz on his desk microphone.

“Mayor Bradley. City council is meeting in 5 minutes now. Also, your McTasties is here.” Destiny rang.

Now with a smug look, Scott smiled at Roger, “I’m actually in the process of passing a new city ordinance right now. And you’re making me late. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Scott then headed down the hall and towards the city council. Roger looked at the book and sighed. At least this wasn’t going to ruin his life. He hoped.

Entering the city council meeting room with his two bags of McTasties, Scott settled in before the last of the council members arrived. Immediately digging into one of the cheeseburgers and fries, the other city council members stared in shock. 

“Uhm, Mayor Bradley. Mayor Bradley!” An older council member nearly shouted.

“Hmm? What is it?” Scott replied, licking ketchup off of his fingers.

“We’re starting our meeting…is it truly necessary for you to eat your lunch during our meeting?” The older man inquired.

“Oh, I’m almost done with it,” Scott casually replied, sucking down his milkshake, making a loud slurping sound in the process, “You all should try it sometime. Now, where were we?” 

The following months saw historic change for Stocksville. Probably in the most insipid way possible. Ordinance 5507 gave more freedom to “inexpensive food companies” that was cited to help “impoverish citizens attain a more consummate meal.” 

In reality, Scott just wanted more McTasties near city hall and his house, both of which now had 2 within a block. 

Not that Scott walked to the fast food restaurant, but it certainly alleviated the weight on his employees. Though, it didn’t relieve weight in other areas. Within those months, the Bradley office staff had all put on at least 70 pounds of fat. Dozens upon dozens of McTasties orders came to the office each day, a majority of them coming from Scott himself. 

Speaking of the mayor, he had gone up 3 suit sizes in the several months following ordinance 5507, which of course was followed by ordinance 5508, 5509 and 5512. All of which gave the McTasties company more power in Stocksville. 

None of this caused the Bradley office any concern because, like Scott, they had all become addicted to the greasy junk. Seemingly overnight, the town had transformed into some Las Vegas for greasy restaurants. A competitor, Patty’s Burgers, was on the rise and produced even more restaurants for Scott- for the Stocksville citizens to order from. 

Though, not all hope was lost for the town.

“Scooooooottttt!” A man with shaggy brown hair shouted down the hall. The guards were too fat and lazy to stop him from bursting into Scott’s office. “Scott, I’ve found out how to solve this- what the hell happened to you?!” 

The mayor’s first response with a burp, followed by him trying to sit upright in his chair.

“Do you mind, URP, Roger? I’m trying to eat my pre-lunch snack?” Scott replied, taking a chomping bite out of a burger that looked much too large for human consumption. 3 more bags were filled with food next to him on the desk, Roger being able to tell they were filled because he couldn’t take a step in the office without his legs brushing up against an empty one.

“How fucking fat have you gotten? Do you realize what this is all from? That “advice?”” Roger, again, emphasized the word advice.

Scott slurped down a soda before literally dumping a carton of fries into his gaping maw. “What, the fucking demon? Yeah, whatever. Like anyone believes that shit.” He let out a very noticeable fart before going back to chowing down on a burger.

Roger noticed his friend’s new dialect. “Dude, since when did you swear? I thought you had to uphold an image or something.” 

“Yeah, what-fucking-ever. People are so happy with all the McTasties, and now Patty’s! Who cares if I fucking swear!” Scott said with a little too much enthusiasm, finding himself wedged between his office chair, “Damn, this thing is getting old.” “Uhh, yeah. Anyways, I’ve figured out how to stop all this and get back to normal. All you have to do is eat some vegetables and fruit, lose a bit of weight and the possession should slowly go away. If that doesn’t work we’ll need a priest and-” “Bro, you’re actually still on this possession thing? I told you, I’m in complete control.” Scott said, taking a final bite out of his burger. 

Then, a squeak was heard, followed by a snap and then Scott falling to the ground. Rips could be heard behind the desk as the mayor sat behind his desk.

“Fuck…that actually felt kinda good.” Scott mumbled to himself.

Roger, however, was much more worried, “Dude! Are you alright?!” He went behind Scott’s desk to help his friend up.

He immediately noticed that one of the buttons on his suit had burst off from the fall, leaving a portion of Scott’s belly wide open to the public. As he helped heft his friend up, Roger noticed that Scott’s pants were now torn at his thighs, exposing a significant amount of cellulite. After helping Scott up, the fat man waddled to the mirror in his office. 

“Damn, I don’t look too bad.” Scott admired himself. Roger hadn’t taken the time to notice in his rush to save his friend, but as his friend looked on in the mirror, he really saw how far Scott’s appearance had fallen. The once well-shaved man now had a scruff that was forming a goatee, and the same furry situation could be said for his now-exposed belly. His suit was tattered with stains, and had torn in places Scott hadn’t even noticed. 

“Scott I really think you should reconsider-”

“Roger, my time in office has been incredibly successful. Employment is at an all time low. People who were starving in the streets now have homes and food! Public transportation goes all over the city and our economy is thriving and healthy. All because I’ve invested in McTasties and fast food restaurants.” Scott went on, looking over the city, then back at Roger, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your extra weight too.” He poked Roger in his belly, to which the pale man sheepishly backed off.

“Just listen to me dude, I think something is really wrong. I mean, how did you even convince the city council to get all of this done? Aren’t they notorious for stopping all your ideas?” Roger asked.

Scott smiled devilishly, braggin, “They attributed it to my “charisma.” They’ve really fallen for me.” He walked over to Roger and put his arm around his friend, “Look me in the eyes when I tell you this, Roger.”

Listening to his friend, Roger looked into Scott's eyes, but they weren’t Scott’s. They glowed a deep red, and were almost…hypnotizing.

“Go get yourself some McTasties on your way home. Tell them it’s on me, they’ll cover it.” Scott ordered, very persuasively. 

Roger couldn’t help but slowly nod his head and turn around to leave Scott’s office. He could really go for a McTasties burger.

The next month saw Mayor Bradley’s only roadblock in his reign of ordinances. A group called “Alternatives for Health” rose to political distinction as a, you guessed it, alternative to Scott’s campaign. Not that there would be an election any time soon, but they aimed to rally support against all of the fast food-centric regulations that had recently been put in place. Lobbying Scott’s office near daily, they would’ve annoyed the hell out of any other group in office.

But, by this point, Scott’s staff had grown too fat and tired to care. 

“URRRRRP, Desti-URRRRRRP. Destiny, where’s m’ damn order of fries?” A sweaty, double-chinned, bearded face mumbled over the desk microphone. When there wasn’t a response in 5 seconds, he repeated himself. “Destiny! URRRRRP, I need m’ afta’noon snack!” 

“It’s, URP, on its way now. Sorry, thought it was for me.” A voice that was distinctly deeper than it was 4 months ago replied. 

Just then, several bags of greasy food then came elevated up through a small nightstand-like desk. Grumbling as he slowly stood up from a wider chair, the fat mayor waddled to the bags of food. Not bothering to waddle back to his desk, he plopped his fat ass down on the ground and started devouring the food. 

“God…this ain’t gonna be enough…it’s sho good…gonna need more…” Scott trailed off, plowing through the food like he had the littered takeout bags in his office. Sweat poured down his barely clothed body, pooling into the rolls that were made from hours of eating. A white wifebeater and black basketball pants were what Scott adorned, since nothing else fit and he had to keep up “public decency,” whatever the hell that was.

A voice annoyingly came through his microphone desk.

“Mayor you, URRRRRP, have a visitor.” Destiny rang.

Grumbling again, the mayor heaved his beanbag-esq belly off the ground and waddled back to his oversized chair.

“Send ‘em up!” Scott said, farting as he settled back into his chair. Just moving across the room had gotten him drench in his own salty perspiration. He rubbed his hairy, sweaty belly to coax out more gas before his visitor arrived. Though, he figured he already knew who it was.

“URRRP, Scott, I got more sco-URRRRRP-op on that health group.” Roger barged in. The trip to McTasties a month ago had treated Roger well. Some might’ve said a little too well. But Scott said it hadn’t treated him well enough, and sent his friend back for more.

“Good man! Whadda they want? URRRRRRP” Scott belched out, not bothering to stop eating. 

Pulling out a bunch of graphs and research papers, Roger messily placed them all over Scott’s desk.

“So basically, URRRRP, ‘scuse me. Basically they’re tryna’ prove that bein’ fat is bad. Apparently it raises your chance for “heart disease” and “cholesterol related illnesses” but I haven’t heard of anyone hospitalized for those things recently.” Roger explained.

Scott’s brain was still trying to process the papers in front of him. Months ago these would’ve made sense, but for some reason he could barely comprehend the words. Words like ‘arthritis,’ ‘artery,’ and ‘high fructose’ were hard to read. Almost like he was realizing his descent into slobdom, Scott almost put the pieces together.

That was, until Roger shoved the straw to a milkshake in his mouth.

“Ya looked starved. Thank god I brought more McTasties.” Roger said, with Scott eagerly reaching for the bags with his sausage arms. 

Roger rubbed his own exposed, pale belly that pushed out underneath his green hoodie. Surprisingly, the same hoodie from 4 months ago still fit the growing lard boy, but he was too addicted to the junk most of Stocksville ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner to be bothered to notice.

“So,” Scott pause for a monumental fart, “Heh, that was a nice one. Anyways, what’re we talkin’ about?” 

“This, uh, health group.” Roger explained.

“Oh yeah, how do we get rid of them? They’re gettin’ in the way of me buildin’ more McTasties.” Scott shoveled another handful of onion rings into his mouth. Roger couldn’t even tell what was grease and what was sweat on the man’s face.

“Jus’...lemme handle it.” Roger smiled, with Scott appreciating the simple reply. “How’s the move goin’?” 

Processing the question, Scott remembered he had ordered the leanest of his staff to move his home necessities to his office. 

“Awesome dude! I got a TV and internet, so I’m basically set. All I need is a personal McTasties and I’d never have to leave.” Scott replied, his rolls and moob jiggling as he went to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

“Sounds like the next ordinance at city council.” Roger smirked.

Scott belched and threw an empty milkshake cup into the trash pile that littered the room. “Oh, I disbanded that. They all got too lazy to come. So now they put their trust in me to make the laws.”

Roger’s eyes perked up at those words. “You’re just telling me now?!” Scott let out more gas and continued to eat, “Sorry, forgot I guess.” 

Roger went over to Scott and leaned against his a fat roll.

“My friend, it’s a good thing you’ve started moving; I don’t think you’ll be leaving your office for a while.”

“Whaddare they sayin’? M’ fuckin’ tits r’ blockin’ m’ vision.” A fat blob of a man whined. 

“Hold on Scott I gotta turn up the volume.” A less fat, but still incredibly massive, man replied. The less fat man placed a milkshake in between the blobbish man’s moobs, with the latter eagerly sucking down the contents of the cup.

“Roge-URRRRRRRRRRRP. Whaddare they sayin’ damnit!” Scott whined again, finishing the milkshake in record time. 

Roger smirked and smacked Scott’s immense belly, “You’ve got no opposition m’ friend. You’re running unopposed next election.” 

The wide man forgot to mention how he had gotten a few of the skinnier interns to infiltrate Alternatives for Health’s own office and sneak McTasties into their diet. A combination of this and tactically cutting off their funding so fast food was all they could afford spiraled to a quick downfall of their opposing organization. Scott let out a fart from the pressure on his belly, smiling nonetheless. “Thas…URRRRRRPP…fuckin’ awesome.” He unabashedly stated. 

“Still it’ll be Stocksville’s first mayor who’s a human blob. And I don’t think it’ll be the last.” Roger stated, planting a kiss on Scott’s greasy lips.

Scott let out more gas, drool and more greasy getting into his beard, “Huh? Did ‘m new order come yet?” Scott had gotten a one-track mind. Which might have been a good thing had he not been corrupted with greasy takeout. The naked blob of a man now never left his office. Not that he could, given his recent immobility in the past month. His thighs were as thick as a hog plumped for a Christmas dinner, leading to an ass that was as large as his belly just months ago. Whenever the man moved, either to let out gas, to try to see the TV, or, recently, to pleasure himself, his entire body jiggled as if shockwaves were sent through him.

Arms hung uselessly at his sides, sitting on rolls upon rolls of fat. His face was basically just his unkept goatee, his several chins, greasy, and sweat. Oh christ the sweat. It was as if Scott had constantly come back from a workout at the gym, but his workout was simply processing thoughts and eating his McTasties meals. It got tangled in his hairy body and made the entire office smell like a sports locker room.

“Scott, ‘m back with your pre-pre-brunch snack!” Roger reassured the massive man. 

Roger hadn’t faired much better after being ‘convinced’ by Scott to try McTasties. He was also shirtless, but wore underwear that had definitely seen better days. Just their yellow coloring and greasy stains were enough to paint a detailed picture. His gut rested over these underwear, looking like a dad who had recently gotten divorced and hit the liquor store too much, though with a more jiggly belly. He looked like Scott did just months ago, which didn’t bode well for his future. “Anything I can get for ya while I’m up babe?” Roger asked, opening his phone to see the news about Alternatives for Health.” The two had started dating because of what Scott again contributed to his “charisma.” They were basically inseparable now, Roger serving at Scott’s beck and call.

“Actually, fuck, yeah.” Scott said through mouthfuls of food, “Call in ‘n intern an’ suck me off.” Giving a knowing smile, Roger leaned against his massive boyfriend’s belly. He slowly got on his belly and crawled under Scott’s massive belly. They had done this enough times that Roger knew where to go in the sweaty expanse.

As an intern walked in and started to feed Scott, the immense man started to let out some affirming swears. Roger knew he found his goal.

“URP, Mayor Bradley, what will you do to, uh, ya know, make sure our city stays great?” An interviewer asks over a video call.

“I’ll, uhm, URRRRRRRRP, uh, yeah.” Scott replied.

They were all too fat to do professional interviews in-person anymore. Not that it mattered. They only had one choice anyways. Thank god they weren’t doing this in-person anyways. Scott barely fit in frame on the Zoom call. He barely fit in his office anymore. An amalgamation of sweaty, hairy fat. 

“Great response, babe.” Roger egged his boyfriend on. He was nearing immobility too, struggling to get up and feed Scott nowadays. The interns took care of that for them.

The interviewer, clearly struggling to paint Mayor Bradley in a good light, asked another question. “To what do you contribute your, URRRRRP, successes.”

Scott nearly went cross-eyed. He let out a far that was audible on camera before responding. “More, URRRRRRRRRP, McTasties. Thas what’ll do!” He slurred.

The interviewer smiled and said, “Excellent idea!” 

“They should, PFFFFFFFFFTTTTT, vote fa’ me jus’ ‘cus ‘m hot.” Scott gobbled down multiple burgers after the interview. Grease splattered all over him, and the walls. And his rolls. And his tits.

“That’s a gr-URRRRRRRRRRP-great idea babe!” Roger continued to egg on the massive man. 

It was a wonder nobody realized how their demon, oh sorry, ‘advice’, had caused all of this. Roger didn’t do a very good job at hiding the evidence once he got a bite of McTasties.

If anyone had the brains to realize what was going on, they’d know their mayor hadn’t any.

That was okay, though. A quick bite of McTasties would fix their worries. Thank god they were expanding to other cities nearby.