#i will fight you before putting hot sauce on anything

[epickiya722]

If there is one scene I do kinda remember in the first Naruto series is that when the group ate that spicy curry (I think it was curry), it was so spicy Neji activated his Byakugan.

Felt like his life was in danger!

[unicyclehippo]

For bishova: regret

it would be stupid to think she knew anything about yelena from one—a mostly masked fight on a rooftop, and two—a conversation slash interrogation (?) in her burned-up apartment but when the widow took the seat next to her in the booth where she had been drowning her sorrows, a bottle of top shelf vodka in her hand, kate couldn’t help thinking maybe the other girl was being nice.

but what the fuck did she know? she hadn’t even know her mom was a mob boss or whatever.

‘what do you want?’

‘to drink,’ yelena said calmly.

kate kept her head low. no one in a bar like this cared who she was—hopefully, though maybe she was risking it by patronising a dive bar, maybe her mom had double-crossed or pressured or stole from or threatened everyone in here.

kate didn’t tell yelena to leave but she didn’t say anything more. just sat and rolled a quarter over her knuckles again and again and again and again and—

‘you are not being a very welcoming friend, kate bish—‘

‘don’t,’ kate growled. out of the corner of her eye, she saw the assassin smirk. she probably sounded like a toothless puppy to her. she was a fucking joke. ‘just don’t. okay? sit and drink or go away.’

yelena sat. she poured a measure into one shot glass and pushed it in front of kate, who blinked down at it.

‘what—did you bring your own novelty shot glasses to a bar?’ she couldn’t think of another reason she’d have an Alice In Wonderland themed glass.

kate let the quarter clatter to the tabletop and traded it for the little glass, lifted it up to make sure.

DRINK ME, it said, with a cheshire grin.

yelena didn’t smile like that but when kate finally looked at her, properly, she was pretty sure the glint in her eyes was the assassin’s version of it.

‘yes. mine is even better. see?’

kate didn’t look down.

‘does it say hot sauce?’

‘it says hot sauce.’ yelena smiled toothily. ‘a funny thing to put on a shot glass, yes?’

‘yeah.’ kate mustered a dry sigh. ‘yeah, it’s - that’s funny.’

‘you are not amused. you are either not a funny person, kate—which i know is not true—or you are not paying attention to my very funny glass.’

yelena threw her shot back.

kate should look away. kate should not find it very attractive, the way yelena shook her hair back and swallowed the shot, licked a drop from the corner of her mouth. the line of her throat. kate should not have got her mom arrested. kate should not be upset about getting her mom arrested. kate should be stalwart and true and brave and—

yelena tapped the table. ‘drink.’

‘don’t tell me what to do,’ kate snapped, overly harsh.

the only sign that yelena noticed was her slow blink. then the assassin scoffed.

‘so rude, kate! here i am, bringing the “good stuff”, and you won’t drink? this is very hurtful. i am hurt!’ yelena insisted, hand to heart.

she was lying, of course. she had some spin, some angle, something she was trying to get out of her or do and kate didn’t have to play along this time! it wasn’t any of her business! except that yelena was here, of course, but what did that mean?

kate scowled down at her drink. she hadn’t even finished the mostly-foam beer the bartender had shoved into her hand, pint sticky with the drink that slopped over the edge. or from the drink before. which was gross but. whatever. she wished she’d drunk more. wished yelena hadn’t shown up yet but when she was a more respectable nine drinks in, which would be a real excuse for not knowing what angle yelena was working this time, for how muddled kate’s thoughts were.

an ache punched up into the soft of her brain, the headache (concussion?) kate had been ignoring for the last hour. she let out an unsteady breath and picked up the quarter again. squeezed it until that hurt more than her head.

‘did you poison it?’

yelena turned so she could lean an elbow on the table, prop her head against her hand. kate watched out of the corner of her eye as the other girl smiled very sweetly.

‘no.’

‘drug it?’

‘no.’

‘steal it?’

‘no.’

kate sighed.

‘fuck it. thanks.’

she drank.

the vodka hit the back of her throat first. then she tasted it; it tasted like the time she swore her head off and her mom told her to wash her mouth out with soap and she’d done it because—

‘another,’ kate rasped, and coughed.

yelena poured her another. when kate drank that one too, she said,

‘you did not strike me as this kind of girl.’

heat poured through kate, stomach out. it was nice. it was always so cold in new york. not the real kind of cold kept at bay with a good coat, and kate always had a good coat and boots she never slipped because her mom always got her the best stuff and scolded her when she tried to slide across a big patch of ice. new york was cold because there were so many people here but none of them were hers. and yet. here was yelena. and vodka. and kate was warm.

her tongue felt warm too, which was weird. maybe the drink was drugged. she didn’t think she cared at this point.

‘what kinda girl?’

‘the kind to sit in dirty bars and drink alone.’

kate considered that seriously. yelena’s words felt as smoky as her voice and the meanings kept slipping through her fingers. how strong was that vodka?

‘me neither,’ she confessed. ‘but before today did you think i was the kinda girl to get my mom arrested?’ it struck her as funny. it was funny! because, guess what, she is!

‘i was not sure,’ yelena said. ‘but i am not that surprised. it was fifty-fifty, yes?’

fifty-fifty chance she’s a bad daughter or a bad hero. great odds. fucking fantastic.

‘you are having regret.’

kate eyed her empty shot glass.

‘i will give you another when you answer my question.’

kate grinned. leaned closer to her drinking buddy. ‘so this—‘ she patted yelena’s shoulder—and was sober enough to see the frown that earned her to remember not to do that again—‘this is an interrogation, huh? okay.’ she leaned closer. ‘i wish you hadn’t told me.’

yelena narrowed her eyes. read kate like an open book. easier—like words on a clear shot glass.

‘you do not mean that.’

kate shrugged. she wasn’t so sure. she nudged her shot glass closer to yelena. ‘any more questions or will you be a good drinking buddy and top me up, romanoff?’

she thought yelena wanted to say something for a second, as she sat back in the seat and tilted her head. but then yelena only poured her another drink and kate thought better of it. what the fuck did she know? not her mom. and certainly not yelena.

[apomaro-mellow]

Family Planning 3

Part 2

Eddie was being led down the hallway by the scruff of his jacket like an unruly pup by Coach Williams while Steve was being led by the shoulder like he was somehow more delicate. They were sat down in a familiar scene in the principal’s office while their parents were being called and Woolsley cleaned up as best as he could.

Still, when he got to the office and took his seat, he had red staining his suit. Both boys gave valiant efforts, trying to hide their snickering behind wobbling smiles.

“Laugh all you want, boys. We’ll see how funny it is when your parents arrive.”

“What exactly are we being charged with?”, Eddie asked, crossing his legs.

“Let’s start with classroom disruptions. And let’s continue with disorderly conduct. And how about we include theft from the theatre department. Oh and let’s not forget inciting a riot.”

“We didn’t incite a riot!”, Steve argued. He was still wearing the fake stomach and thanks to Gareth’s prowess, only had a bit of sauce on his jeans.

“Watch your volume”, Woolsley pointed a warning finger at him. 

“Their families are here, sir”, the secretary announced.

They were waved in and now it was both Mr. and Mrs. Harrington and Eddie’s uncle Wayne Munson. Steve’s parents gawked at the sight of him and Wayne only shook his head.

“What’ve you gotten up to this time?”

“Just a being a showman”, Eddie shrugged.

“Steven Arthur Harrington! What are you wearing?”, his mother gasped.

Steve was at a loss of words. It had all seemed like a good idea in the beginning. Actually, it still did. He didn’t know why they were acting like he and Eddie really pulled a baby from his womb. It was just a joke.

“It was just a joke.”

“This”, Richard pointed to Steve’s stomach. “Doesn’t look like a joke. It looks like some upstart alpha has forgotten himself and is making your forget yourself.” Then he pointed to Eddie. “You better stop sniffing around my son-”

“And you better stop pointin’ your finger at my boy”, Wayne said.

“He needs to quit while he’s ahead before this becomes a real problem.”

Two alphas filling the room with tension and not even bothering to hide their scent about it made Steve’s shoulders hunch up a bit. How did a stupid joke turn into all of this? Then his mother spoke up.

“Our son has never done anything like this, which leads me to believe that your nephew-”

“Why does everyone assume it was all Eddie? That I had nothing to do with it?”, Steve accused, standing up. “I’m the one that put this thing on and I’m the one that got up on the desk and shot the sauce.”

“And that’s because of his bad influence”, Richard nodded his head at Eddie.

Wayne put his hands on his hips. “That’s funny because I see two young men here in the hot seat, not just one.”

“Alright, gentlemen”, the principal finally spoke up before looking to Eddie and Steve. “Boys, go and wait outside. As a matter of fact, you can take that back to the prop storage”, he jabbed a finger at Steve’s belly.

Thoroughly dismissed, they did just that, walking out together. Feeling a little humiliated, Steve took the fake stomach off. He could only imagine what they were discussing behind the door. His dad would probably fight tooth and nail, if not for Steve’s sake for his reputation at least. Unfortunately, it had to be said that he didn’t have such high hopes for Eddie.

“Well, that reception could’ve gone better”, Eddie said.

“Understatement of the century”, Steve grumbled.

They got to the theatre department and Steve put the stomach into a box after checking that it was all good. Eddie could smell the bitter undertone in his scent, even in the musty storage room.

“You know, worst case scenario, we need to do a little summer school to make this up.”

“Some of us like having a free summer, Munson.”

“Oh, Munson now is it? What happened to my sweet little mama-to-be?”

Not in the mood for jokes now, Steve just rolled his eyes and turned to walk out. Eddie didn’t need to get a whiff to know that his joke had landed flat. He followed Steve out, tripping over something feathery in his haste to catch up to the omega. He didn’t know what Steve was more turned off by, having to continue the project together, or having to call it quits here and do some other make up assignment.

“Hey, hey, I know I’m not like your idea of a perfect alpha or anything.”

Steve stopped in his tracks and turned to lean back against a locker, crossing his arms. “Come on, man. Give yourself a break. You’re not that bad.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest. “My word! That almost sounded like a compliment!”

“Keep it up and I’ll take it back”, Steve said, grinning a little now.

Feeling welcomed, Eddie came to stand next to him, their shoulders almost touching. Steve smelled a little sweeter now and his body wasn’t as tense.

“You really are hot and cold. Can’t you be a little warmer to your baby daddy?”, Eddie batted his lashes.

Steve leaned over and into his space. “A good alpha would put in some real effort to warm me up.”

Eddie hesitated for only a moment before he leaned in a little as well. Steve smoothed his cheek over Eddie’s and breathed in deep. No one had scented Eddie besides his uncle and he stood stock still as Steve did it.

“You smell really good, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever told you.” To be honest, Steve had never taken a moment to savor in Eddie’s scent. But now that he was taking his time to do so…

“Steven Arthur Harrington!”

Eddie jumped back like it was his own name being shouted down the hallways. So hard that the sound of the locker slamming echoed in the mostly empty hallway. Steve’s parents collected him and carted him out so quickly that Eddie got whiplash. Wayne came up to him much more calmly and patted his shoulder. 

“Do I gotta to the full name treatment for you?”

“If you say my middle name out loud I’ll run away from home”, Eddie threatened.

“Son at your age, it’s just called ‘moving out’.”

Both walked out, shoulders shaking with chuckles and that was when Wayne told him what was what.

“We managed to get you both a deal. You can do the project as intended, new sack of flour and all. Just no more funny business.”

“That’s it?”, Eddie asked as he was walked to his van.

“No funny business at all. No causing trouble for yourself or that other boy. Think you can keep your hands clean for an entire year?”

The Harringtons had already left, probably sped out of the parking lot to keep from running into the Munsons again. But even so, it was easy to remember Steve’s fleeting smile and the scent that wafted off of him when he was feeling content or even happy. 

“I think I can do that”, Eddie said, resolute.

Part 4

Taglist

@marklee-blackmore @aol19

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hello<3 can you do Masky, Toby, Jeff and Ben with a mean teen readerr? Like there just mad all the time but its because of trauma or something?:0 I LOVE YOU SMM TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF MLLL!!<33

Jeff and Tim are NOT gonna take that shit 😰

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masky

Honestly the dad in him comes out a bit

Like his whole thing is "what makes you think you get to act like that?"

He gets it, you've had a rough life but so has EVERYONE ELSE HERE

Just because your life sucked doesn't mean you get to be an asshole

He will treat you like a baby

Partly just to tick you off, and partly because if you act like a baby, you're gonna get treated like one

He'll put you in time out, he'll take things away, he'll put hot sauce in your mouth, etc

And the thing is, you can't even tattle to slender because slender agrees with Tim!

I think maybe here and there he'd ask you why you're always so angry, and what he can do to help, and if you don't answer, he doesn't mind because he understands

But if you do answer, your relationship begins to grow, and he learns how to help you out better

He doesn't want you to be mad all the time, because even though it might not seem like it sometimes, he does care about you

But as much as he cares, he also isn't gonna let a literal child bully him

He's way too old for that shit >:/

Toby

He's kind of scared of you

He just stays out of your way

His relationship with you is similar to his relationship with Jeff

He and Jeff are friends, yes, but they aren't close

And most of the time, Toby will choose to avoid Jeff rather than hangout with him

That's how he sees you too

You're a good kid! He just doesn't wanna upset you

The very few interactions you have with him are typically just him sucking up to you, or him doing his best to tiptoe around everything that could upset you

And because of this, you do take advantage of him sometimes

"Toby go get me a snack"

"I dunno y/n, don't you think you could go...get it yourself this time?" As he says this almost every word has a whistle or click after it, showing how nervous he is

You will slowly turn your head to look at him with a glare "I know you aren't calling me lazy"

"No, no! I-I would never! I'm just saying-"

"OH! So you're calling me fat then?"

"No!"

"Then go get me a snack before i make you regret the day your mommy queefed you out"

He REALLY needs to learn to stand up for himself smh

And typically he is pretty good at standing up for himself but yk

Kids scare him

Jeff

With his explosive anger issues you will not last more than 3 seconds around him omg

He is not above fist fighting a child btw

I mean yk, he'd get punished for it but that doesn't stop him

The second you try anything around him he checks you real quick

If you back off, he will get a boost of pride and say some shit like "Yeah, that's what I thought"

If you double down with it, it will likely turn into an all out screaming match

Until someone pulls him away and is like "dude you can't be fighting with little kids :/"

He will always call you names and always be sour around yo

Crotch goblin, little shit, failed abortion

you know, the usual <333

Honestly im gonna be so real with you for a second, the way I see yalls relationship going is only to one drastic side of a spectrum

You could bond over your anger issues and become best friends/siblings with an unbreakable bond

OR you could become so sour towards each other that the caretakers of the manor literally have a meeting about changing your schedule a bit to get around Jeff's

No in between its only one of those two

Yeah, Jeff doesn't take no shit from anyone

Even children, gotta teach em young <333

Ben

Ben, being so chill genuinely does not care what you do to him

Since he doesn't have a physical body, you can't fight him either

So sometimes he will pick fights with you just to make you mad

I'm desperately trying to make Ben's section more than 3 bullets long

I'm telling you he literally does not care, does not react, NOTHING.

You could be screaming at him and he will just continue about his day like you aren't even there

Which of course, makes you more mad

But again, he doesn't care

Making you try harder and harder just to get a reaction out of him

The only reaction you will get is out of Jeff, and we already talked about his dramatic ass

[thefanciestborrower]

Okok, I know you have your own headcannons an stuff- but like- for the ninja boi's I have a few headcannons if you dont mind me sharing:

Headcannons related to the entire hecking chapter worth of a story I wrote lol:

Cole is absolutely terrified of the dark but won't tell anyone. This means that the only ninja who can eat him without him flipping out is Zane. This is cause, in my personal headcannon, Zane absolutely has glowing insides.

Jay constantly talks big game about eating Cole, but when he finally gets the chance to eat Cole, he ends up almost choking. Now Cole brings it up almost any chance he gets.

Cole has climbed up the kitchen counters multiple times to get to some dessert. Since Cole is about as tall as a hand is long, he normally fills up completely on dessert. He does this often at the worst times, such as before dinner or before a mission. This has gotten so bad that Zane has started hiding any dessert he makes in various places he knows Cole can't see them.

Just kinda general headcannons, not story related:

When any one of the ninjas are too hot in the summer, but they still want to be outside, they practically beg to eat Zane. Like give him the puppy eyes and everything. I think the only ones who can normally convince him though is Cole and Lloyd.

Jay used to playfully shock anyone he didn't ask to be eaten by, but he had to stop when he accidentally shocked Zane with too much electricity (this was after he had tried to pick a fight with Cole in the kitchen). All I have to say is poor Zane. He worked so hard on that spaghetti sauce.

Lloyd, as a kid, would often get in trouble, and as a punishment, get put in "time out," aka eaten. This was always a hassle since he liked to kick and make the one who ate him sick. Zane is the only ninja without a gag reflex and pain receptors, so for a while, he was the only one who would be up to the task.

On that note, once, when Lloyd was younger, he tried to sneak out. He then was then promptly stopped by Sensei Wu, who then woke up Zane to give him a "time out."

And ya! Heres some headcannons for ya 👍

Idk if all of em made sense, so let me know if I need to re-explain anything :)

OH my gosh these are all AMAZING!! Going insane rn

Cole being scared of the dark is something I’ve never really thought about but oh my goodness it’s perfect?? Like idk how to explain it but that just feels right you know? I ALSO think that Zane glows inside so nice to see we’re on the same wavelength there lmao. Like, why not give him some pretty glowy insides you know?

The image of Jay trying to choke down Cole is HYSTERICAL to me like come on buddy what do you think was gonna happen?? There’s no way that would have ended well for him and he deserves to get teased for it 

There’s honestly no way Cole WOULDN’T stuff himself stupid with dessert if shrunk and given the chance okay like that’s absolutely correct and Zane would be the person to hide everything from him. Just put it in the fridge he can’t get in there lmao

Zane is like a nice cool ice cube who doesn’t melt and keeps your core feeling cool of COURSE they’d wanna eat him in the summer! I would too! I would also probably only let Cole and Lloyd eat me lmao cause look, they’re just the teeniest tiniest bit more responsible than the others. Kai, Jay, and Nya are forces of chaos that cannot be contained. Rip Zane…..he didn’t deserve his spaghetti sauce to be exploded. Jay does deserve to zap people though he’s an absolute menace like that and look if you try and eat him without permission then you’re just asking for it at that point. 

YOU ALSO have the ‘little Lloyd getting ate for time out purposes’ headcanon oh my goodness!! Look look the kid was an absolutely feral gremlin okay sometimes you just gotta contain him, and because he BITES then Zane is the only one who can really tolerate that sort of chaos. I like to think Zane has some soundproofing qualities to his internal storage/stomach compartment lmao, so when he gets given Lloyd in the middle of the night he can just tune out the enraged shrieking and complaining. At least until Lloyd tires himself out and finally goes to sleep 

These are all SO GOOD WAAAA if you have any more I’d love to see them lol. That goes for anyone btw give me your headcanons I wanna see!! 

[sandcobangevent]

we're gonna party like it's your birthday!

by @alistair-theirins-tits and @lxvenderjewel

John wakes up on May 21st like any other normal day and pulls himself out of bed, groaning as his bones creak while he stretches his arms high and sighs.

He brushes his teeth, humming to himself, swishes mouthwash in his mouth and spits it out. He looks in the mirror, running a hand through his hair so it doesn’t look too awful.

He enters the kitchen for a morning coffee to see Mariana and Sherlock already up and awake, mugs in their hands, Mariana hissing in Sherlock’s ear. They both stand stick straight when John walks in.

“Morning,” he says, walking directly to the coffee machine, still half asleep. “Anything interesting? Any cases lined up, Mari?”

They both look at him a little bewilderedly, which throws him off. “What? Is something in my teeth? Christ’s sake, I just brushed my teeth…”

“N-No, nothing’s wrong, sorry,” Mariana stammers. “Don’t worry about us. Nope, no cases today, we’re pretty much free.”

“Neat,” John says, watching the coffee pour into the mug before dousing it in creamer. Sherlock makes a noise of disgust, and John grins.

“How can you stand to drink it like that? ” Sherlock asks, lip curled, and Mariana kicks him in the shin.

“Be nice!” she hisses. Sherlock sighs.

John’s thrown again. When has Mariana ever cared about Sherlock teasing him? Usually she just… laughs it off?

John sips his coffee and looks at the two of them, waiting for one to initiate a conversation. Mariana and Sherlock exchange glances, glances that he cannot at all parse out.

“Are you both okay?”

“Can you go get groceries?”

John and Mariana speak at the same time, and John snorts.

“Is that what you two were so worried about? Yeah, I’ll go get them,” he says.

“Yeah, yep, definitely that, we’re just so nervous today, John,” says Mariana.

“Nervous? What for?” he asks.

“Erm. Nothing. Just, er, jumpy.” Sherlock says, and Mariana’s face goes right into her hands.

It’s weird. Usually John is able to get a read on whatever’s bothering the other two, but today he just can’t make it out. Is today special to one of them, or what? What is he missing here?

He resolves to investigate this more when he gets home. Maybe Sherlock and Mariana have just had a fight, or something, and they need to walk it off. Yeah, that’ll do for now.

He goes downstairs, pulling on a jacket. He looks down at himself– graphic tee and sweatpants. Yeah, that’s fine.

He looks next to him for a moment, and the unused coat closet is open, for some reason. If he peeks in, he can see– is that a banner of some sort? And tinsel? And–

“Watson, are you out yet?” Sherlock calls from upstairs.

“Oh, you want me out that bad?” John teases.

“ Yes,” Sherlock yells.

“ Sherlock!” Mariana yells at him, and John hears a shout of pain. He snorts to himself, and then pushes himself out the door. Unfortunately there are things to do today.

The walk to the grocery store is about 10 minutes, so fairly close. It’s a nice day out– not too wet, like it tends to be in May, not too hot either. John lets himself linger while he walks, treats himself to London at its best.

It’s when he gets to the grocery store that he realizes Mariana never gave him a grocery list. Bollocks.

He gets his phone out and shoots a text to the group chat Mariana made ages ago, that’s become their primary mode of communication at this point.

the 221three

Hey what do you want me to get Mariana

Boss Lady: oh shit let me check the fridge

Master Detective: Can you get pasta? I think we’re out of pasta.

I’m fairly sure we’re not out of pasta actually

Master Detective: I couldn’t find any pasta in the pantry, though?

Boss Lady: that’s because we put it in the cabinet

Master Detective: Ah.

Boss Lady: right john can you get eggs milk honey jam bread and pesto sauce

Boss Lady: and dill pickle chips

Dill pickle chips??? What?????

Boss Lady: it’s like upgraded salt and vinegar chips

Master Detective: Wait. Ms Hudson.

Master Detective: I don’t like pesto.

Boss Lady: yes well i do so john get me pesto sauce

Master Detective: I hope you’re not planning on using my penne for that.

Boss Lady: ugghhhhh john get elbow pasta at the store

Yes ma’am 🫡

Boss Lady: what is that i just see a box

Right I forgot you were an android user. Loser

Boss Lady: bullying this is bullying

Grinning to himself, John puts his phone in his pocket and grabs a shopping basket.

Groceries usually don’t take very long— until the pesto, that is, because he’s looked all over the pasta aisle for them and he still can’t find any. 

He sighs, taking a last glance at the aisle, ready to give up and face Mariana’s wrath when he gets home when he sees a familiar face passing by his aisle.

“Oi, Stammo!” he calls, grinning.

Stammo slowly walks backwards, holding a cake in his arms. A big one, at that.

“Hey, John,” he says, his face doing a gymnastic routine of emotions before settling on being nervous but pleased.

“How are you? How’s Nadia?” John asks.

“I’m well, she’s great, yeah,” Stammo says, smiling at the floor. John would punch him in the shoulder but well. He’s holding a giant cake. Best not to do that.

“What’s the cake for?” he asks.

“Er– Nadia had a craving–?” Stammo says, hesitantly. “Yeah– she had a craving for cake.”

“That looks more like it’s for a party, though, doesn’t it?” John says, raising his eyebrows. “She wants a cake that big?”

“Hey, who am I to judge,” Stammo shrugs. John nods sagely. “Anyway, I’ve got to go– she’s going to kill me if I stay any longer.”

“Tell her I say hello!” John calls as Stammo scurries away. He sighs, smiling. Stammo’s always so fun to talk to, even if he seemed a bit in a rush today. He looks up and–

Ah. There’s the bloody pesto.

The rest of the trip isn’t noteworthy, really– the rest of the groceries are easy to find and he has a bit of a row with the self checkout machine but that’s generally what happens when he goes shopping by himself– and he gets back home to 221B in 20 minutes.

He knocks on the door, but no one answers. He rings the doorbell, but no one answers. 

Odd. 

He checks the doorknob and for some reason it’s been left unlocked. He has the distinct memory of locking the door. 

He pushes in anyway, ready to smash the bottle of pesto over someone’s head if he has to. The lights are all off downstairs and slowly, he makes his way to the steps, grabbing onto the handrail and looking around as if he can see anything in the first place. 

“Sherlock? Mariana?” he calls into the darkness. “Where are you two?”

Silence. Utter silence.

He opens the door to 221B, fearing the worst. The lights are still off.

He turns them on. Distantly he muses that he ought to have turned the lights on downstairs first, but he’s already up here, isn’t he? He survived.

The lights turn on with a slight flicker. He shuts his eyes and prepares himself, then he opens them again, and–

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOHN!” a bunch of voices yell. Sherlock and Mariana are in front of a large banner with the same words written on them, and the cake from the store is on the coffee table lying ready to eat.

In the kitchen are Stammo and Nadia, presumably having just finished cooking something, and Archie races up to him, licking his feet.

“Wha…?” John says. “Wh– What’s going on??”

Everyone’s faces freeze.

“It’s… your birthday, John,” Sherlock says, slowly. “This is a birthday party.”

“It’s my– what? I thought that was tomorrow,” John says. “It’s the 21st.”

“It most certainly is not.” says Sherlock, incredulous. “It’s the 22nd.”

“Erm? What? Let me check–” John struggles his phone out of his pocket. He literally opened his phone today, he cannot have missed the actual bloody fucking date–

But, to his abject horror, he did.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He missed it. He forgot.

“Er– oh my god–” he huffs a laugh. “I– is this why you two were looking at me like I was completely insane this morning?”

“Well, I wouldn’t describe it as that–”

“Yes.”

Mariana kicks Sherlock in the shin again, and he lets out a low groan of pain.

“You don’t need to kick him,” John says, smothering giggles behind his hand.

“He’s being rude! It’s your birthday!” she pouts.

“Can’t believe you forgot your own birthday, Watson,” Sherlock scoffs.

“Well– I– I’ve been busy! Lately! I stayed up until like two last night editing!” he says, defensive.

“Goodness. Take a break,”

“You’re one to be talking,” John snipes.

“Excuse me?!”

“Anyways, Mariana, thank you,” he says, steamrolling forward, “This is so nice, I can’t imagine how much planning it must’ve taken.”

“Oh– me? Don’t thank me,” she stammers, crossing her arms.

“Why not?” John asks.

“Well, Sherlock did most of the planning, I just sent invitations,” she says.

“ Sherlock?” John says, eyes widening.

Sherlock is looking at the floor, trying to hide behind his curls.

“Was nothing, really,” he mumbles.

“Oh, Sherlock–” John steps over Archie and strides to the coffee table, wrapping Sherlock in a tight hug. “This is so nice. Thank you.”

“Really, it was nothing,” he repeats, cheeks darkened. “Happy birthday, John.”

They stand like that for a moment, John’s face buried in Sherlock’s shoulder. God, to think he forgot– and Sherlock remembered– and planned a party?

He shall not get teary at this here birthday party, no matter how much of a fight it takes. 

“This moment is nice and all, but I’m really hungry, so can we please light the candles?” Nadia calls from the kitchen.

There is laughter, and then there is cake.

______________

Check it out on AO3 too!

[possessionisamyth]

Genuinely a shame that resident evil doesn't really go into food that much, but I also completely understand since the "food" you see being eaten 99% of the time is people and rot. However, this will not stop me from food related headcanons, so lets talk about eating traits for the recurring (3 or more separate RE appearances) cast:

Chris Redfield- Never been a picky eater. Before RE5, he pretty much let his metabolism do all the work along with his "stay in shape" workout regimen, so he ate whatever he wanted and most of the time it was junk food, fast food, and meals with a lot of bread and potatoes. When he started working out more, his diet shifted to eating more fats and proteins since they give him a steady flow of energy instead of quick bursts. It doesn't mean he's stopped eating junk food or eating out. His palette simply changed from eating bags of chips and a roll of cookies everyday to maybe a large bag or two of chips and a large pack of cookies that he slowly finishes over the span of a few weeks. Beer and water are interchangeable depending on the meal.

Jill Valentine- She's the pasta person that will use a fork and a spoon underneath to twirl her noodles before eating them. Loves anything covered in a good savory sauce, and she will tear bits of bread off to swipe the rest of her plate clean. She prefers chicken over beef and pork over tofu. Entered a hot wing eating contest once on a dare, and she lost, but she made sure to find out what hot sauce they used so she could keep a bottle in her pantry. She drinks a lot of water, and she likes the taste of it. Not a fan of tea unless it's iced and sweetened heavily. Otherwise not really a fan of sweets when it comes to candy or baked goods unless there's some tartness or sourness to it.

Rebecca Chambers- Her diet leans more into foods she doesn't need utensils to finish like sandwiches, wraps, tacos, and the classic pizza fold with thin crust. She has a sweet tooth, but this is mainly for drinks and hard candies. She loves soda. She doesn't like how gummy candy sticks to her teeth due to the texture. Baked sweets are okay as long as they aren't super sticky to handle, but she'll make an exception for things which have a heavy amount of chocolate. She has a bag of mini-muffins on her desk for breakfast in the mornings. People know not to take any unless they desire her wrath. She knows when Chris has eaten them when she see's a package of snack cakes and an apology post-it note in her drawer.

Barry Burton- Before the gun incident, Barry was the guy who ate primarily meats and very little vegetables unless his stomach was fighting him. After the incident, he opened up his palette more to show he appreciated the hard work put into the meal. Ask him what his favorite food is and his answer changes every time cause it's always what his wife cooked for dinner the night before. He's a dinner guy. He's either too tired in the mornings or too in a rush to go to work, so breakfast is a no-go, but dinners are spent with his family, and post Revelations 2, he cherished them even more. Only drinks water from the tap.

Albert Wesker- Eats expensive looking food because it has the least amount of mess during consumption, and is an ego boost to his god complex wherein everything has to be prepared exactly to his taste. If during his time with S.T.A.R.S they managed to drag him out to eat, he would get a drink and nothing else. He doesn't like limp vegetables no matter how much dressing people cover them in to compensate, and he hates greasy food. His taste towards sweet things are minimal. He enjoys sweeter cheeses like cream cheese or mascarpone, and he tried to like tiramisu, but he didn't like how soft angel fingers are. He will also only eat macarons with a dark chocolate filling sandwiched between. Neutral about water and enjoys teas and wines.

Claire Redfield- Was the pickiest eater as a kid. Hated it when the food on her plate touched, or the juice from one part of her meal touched the other. She had the special disposable plates where each part of her meal was separated so that she'd actually finish the food she was given. She was also disgusted with canned vegetables. As an adult most of those hang-ups are gone. She'll eat almost anything now, and she loves trying new foods from the places she travels to. Flatbreads are her best friend. Pita, naan, chapati, and so on, she can make a meal out of bread and butter alone. She still hates canned vegetables, but she buys fresh or frozen vegetables and incorporates them into her meals where she can. She also hates the taste of water. She'll go for coffee or tea first.

Leon Kennedy- Allegedly is relaxed with all foods except when there's one thing on it he doesn't want to eat. No pickles on his burger. No red onions in his guacamole. No sliced fruit in or on his cake. It's not even that he hates these ingredients or has a texture discrepancy. He just has preferences on where they should be and where they shouldn't. He'll put those same pickles on his club sandwich, or ask for red onions on pizza, and he loves a good fruit pie. He also eats so many of those pre-packaged fruit cups. Neutral about regular water but treats flavored sparkling water like a treat and sometimes hides it in his flask. It's a fun prank to play on Claire.

Ada Wong- Eats more vegetarian style meals, but is not a vegetarian. This isn't done on purpose or for any particular reason. Simply a lot of the meals she favors tend to have an equal amount of vegetables and grains to a lower amount of meat, and some cooks are much more scarce on the meat than others. This resulted in a palate shift where she's fine if there isn't meat on her plate. She's not a big fan of greasy, deep-fried foods, but her guilty pleasure is shrimp toast, and she only has it off the clock when she finds someone who makes it well. Her other guilty pleasure is cinnamon sugar donuts, and she has that more often as a snack to finish off her lunch. Neutral about water and has an iced coffee preference.

Ingrid Hunnigan- She likes rice more than bread and will eat several bowls of rice with whatever the main food is if they go together. Seasoned and spiced long grain rice or plain sticky short grain rice, she'll enjoy them all as long as it's prepared correctly. Loves eating tofu. She'll trade any meat for tofu except for seafood. She's the one ordering surf and turf or the dish with shrimp in it if the option is available. Yet, she cannot eat anything with a face. She doesn't care how pretty the presentation is, there shouldn't be a shrimp or lobster head on her plate when she gets it. She always orders dessert unless she's eating with others, and likes anything cherry flavored. Enjoys drinking water and has to drink water between her energy drink refills.

Thanks for getting to the bottom of this even if you don't agree with any of them! I'll gladly do more of these for any other RE characters if asked, and I'm open to playful debate/convo about the ones listed or not listed.

[bruhstation]

I'm interested in what the trains in your humanization prefer to eat (What if Henry loves apple charlottes?)

yes!!! eating is one of life’s biggest joys! always love talking and learning about food and watching people cook and eat and express their happiness, so this was a fun one to answer.

thomas a. billington: thomas needs something to chew or suckle on in the break room. think of any candy that your grandma would store on her detailed glass bowl. tootsie rolls, werther’s hard caramel candy, jolly ranchers… you get it. he doesn’t have any particulars when it comes to filling dishes and most of his diet consist of snacks and candies hence his thinner and shorter build.

edward pettigrew: he loves a good hot black tea with a side of rich tea biscuits or scones. he’s the guy who knows too much about tea. stomach ache? ginger tea. sleep aid? chamomile’s the way. for the more filling dishes, edward prefers light savory dishes with feta cheese involved. he’s really fond of fërgesë from his home country, but there’s no place on sodor that could make a mean one, so he settles with making it at his own home.

henry stanier: sliced apples! when he’s in a good mood, he’d shape them into little bunnies. he likes anything savory with a strong taste too, like his mother’s curry. henry loves a full course, hearty meal that tastes and feels good, and growing up, he’s always had a large appetite (fast metabolism). henry doesn’t like anything greasy or deep fried because it’ll make his stomach acid flare up. I had to look up what apple charlottes is, and yeah, I can tell you that henry would love it.

gordon j. gresley: gordon has a sweet tooth but he’s self conscious about it and has an image to uphold so he’ll tell anyone who’s making him coffee to make it black (he adds a packet of cream and sugar when nobody’s seeing) without anything added (his friends see right through him). his favorite dessert is orange float with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. gordon also likes food that is usually eaten together with friends or family (something something lazy susan) like pork roast or kway teow or thick beef stew with mashed potatoes. big portions are necessary!

james a. hughes: sweet margarita is james’ favorite drink to have during outings with his friends. he also loves a good french onion soup, especially paired with croutons (do not make them too hard or he’ll riot!!). speaking of croutons, james loves fondue and he always fights over it with thomas. really, any food that looks good and makes him look well-off would be on his favorites list (please, james, why does most of these dishes involve alcohol in one way or another). he also likes sweet danish pastries.

percival “percy” avonside: he’s a simple man when it comes to food he likes. sandwiches are the way to go! carbohydrates, proteins, the tasty stuff — it’s all there! eggs benedict (he puts another english muffin on top so the sauce won't spill everywhere) is his most favorite since it makes him feel special and fancy. percy also loves good coffee, usually mixed with condensed milk or mocha, since he delivers the night mail train.

tobias “toby” holden: tiramisu is his favorite dessert and he prefers it made with more coffee content. he has helped out henrietta many times with making it to the point he’s has the process memorized. for savory dishes, he loves some good lasagna with extra beef content in the sauce. it’s gotta drench. really, toby loves his layered food huh

montague “duck” collett: he’s not picky when it comes to food given to him, so he just eats what any average joe would eat (eggs on toast for breakfast, sandwich for lunch, sausage with potatoes and peas for dinner). normal person food. duck makes sure he has his meal three times a day and follows the motto; “eat before you’re hungry, stop before you’re full.” also diesel made mango panna cotta once for him as a desperate token of apology and duck fell in love with it.

donald and douglas dunalastair: like thomas, they don’t really have much preference for filling meals. dessert, though? now that’s the stuff. donald loves cranachan so SO much he wishes he could eat it every day. douglas likes candies more instead of softer, silkier desserts, like black licorice or peppermint candy. they also eat only twice a day since they get full super quickly. amazing how so much strength for shoveling snow is stored behind their lanky bodies. they also drink irn bru

oliver t. swindon: oliver loves shepherd's pie because it’s practical. everything he needs is right there, fitting for someone who doesn’t like complicated things. as for the sweet stuff… even after forgetting some of his memories after his rescue, oliver remembers the feeling and taste of halo-halo on his tongue clearly, something he missed dearly.

giovanni vin diesel: diesel loves bruschetta. he puts some pepper flakes on top for that spice kick. he also loves sfincione, specifically the way his family would make it, but, like edward, nobody on sodor knows how to cook a decent one (too much sauce, too thick of a bread, or too soggy) which makes him a bit sad. diesel’s kind of picky when it comes to the meals he can consider “favorite” because he believes he’s the most qualified in the culinary field on sodor due to his upbringing.

mavis hawthorne: a slice of blackforest cake always makes her heart sing. not too heavy on the whipped cream, though, because she doesn’t like her desserts too sweet. she also likes baumkuchen. whenever toby cooks lasagna, he’d make another portion to give to mavis, which quickly became her favorite and something she looks forward to during lunch breaks.

rebecca nassif: rebecca likes snacking a lot. she finds joy in eating! she grew up surrounded by meals. like diesel, because of her upbringing, she’s always been an enthusiast of not only food, but culinary arts as a whole. she loves cold desserts that usually remind her of her old neighborhood like this pistachio kulfi that she would made when she was younger. rebecca also missed having knafeh and mafruka since moving to sodor (it’s been like... a week.)

nia e. wanjala: whenever nia feels like treating herself to something good, she’d make her own version of the gatsby sandwich at her house. she’s especially keen on the french fries and enjoys extra hot sauce with it. it’d take two meal times for her to finish it all. lately, nia’s also been enjoying pastries like chocolate muffins and bombolone (chocolate fillings are her favorite).

lady: as part of her mission to understand humanity and their intrapersonal relationships, lady developed an affinity to eating. she’d eat anything as long as it’s acceptable by human standards even though she doesn’t have to. lady wants to understand that people eat not only to survive but as a way to show their love and culture. isn’t the greatest blessing to be bestowed upon living things the ability to consume to their heart’s content? does her lack of mortal needs indicate her lack of personal desire? anyways her favorite foods are fish and chips with sweet mayonnaise on the side and soft serve vanilla ice cream.

diesel 10: his go-to is black coffee mixed with red bull (added with some other weird concoction if he feels like it). some scrambled eggs with a dash of hot sauce for breakfast. some fried bacon if he has some self respect for the day. some dried sardines if he wants to feel miserable. some baklava with extra syrup and pistachio if he wants to treat himself because the sound of the crunch eases his stress

[candiedspit]

THE HUNDRED POUND COWBOY

I feel like a king when I’m eating chicken wings. Hot sauce dribbling off my chin, sucking the meat off the splintered bones. I was sitting on the floor, my knee to my chest as the television played another episode of my favorite cartoon–Gelatins. Meredith stood by the window with her arms crossed, watching a pair of dogs scrimmage. Meredith let out a giggle and took a puff of her cigarette. I liked Meredith. I liked the way she laughed, the things she laughed at. I liked her freckles. I liked to do coke off her stomach. As I licked my fingers, she put out her cigarette and walked towards the kitchen. 

You got mail, she called out. 

Bullshit, I said. I don’t ever have anything. 

Oh really? She asked, throwing an envelope at me, glass of water in hand.

I wiped my hands on a nearby rag and read the front. It was from my sister June; that old ragtime. I hadn’t seen her in six months. I opened the letter with my thumbnail and stood up to read it aloud. That felt like the proper thing to do, stand up and read it aloud. 

Hey, it said. How are you? It’s strange. Sometimes, I like to picture you in a nail salon. A thousand televisions playing the same channel. Lights buzzing like a crowd. The scent of alcohol. Sometimes, I don’t imagine you at all. Let’s not talk about last time. Here’s the deal–come to Thanksgiving at my house this year. I want you there. It’ll be small. Just mom, dad, Randall and me. We’ll eat and drink and talk. Come. It’ll be nice to see you again. I love you. Hope you’re doing alright. See you soon. 

June

So she wants you to go, Meredith said. You gonna go?

I don’t know, I said. Things got weird last time I saw her. And I haven’t seen my parents in a year. 

You called your mom crying a few weeks ago. Bawling like the world had closed on your little finger. 

That’s because I couldn’t see her, I said. I probably won’t go. 

You should, she said. 

Yeah, but I probably won’t. 

I got up to wash my hands. In the bathroom mirror, I realized I’d spilled hot sauce all over my shirt. 

Goddamn it, why wouldn’t you tell me? I asked, then faced the mirror again. 

Why don’t people tell me these things?

----

That night, Meredith went back home on the train She lived in a small basement apartment with her cousins in Queens. When it stormed, they spent the night with a neighbor. It made me sad to think about so I didn’t. 

I went out on a walk, dressed in my long, trench coat and a pair of popsicle orange panties underneath. I lit a cigarette and sat on the stairs of the library a few blocks from my apartment, watching the people, their shadows. Why would June want to see me? It didn’t made sense enough that she loved me. I loved her but I wouldn’t want to see her. 

And Meredith was right. A few weeks ago, I’d gotten kicked out of a club for fighting a woman over possibly drugging my friend’s drink. When she went to the bathroom she was fine. But a few minutes later and she was slumped over like a bag of rice, incoherent. And the woman was the closest target, I’d seen her walk in like she invented paradise. As if she’d ever even seen paradise. I dropped my friend off at her house and went back home where Meredith was waiting, painting her nails in my living room with a wig on. The radio playing oldies. 

I rushed past her and stripped naked and curled into my bed and called my mother. My heart bleated. I felt awful. Just awful. The thing is, I didn’t expect her to answer. It was late, I was banished. But then there she was with her sweet voice spilling out of the phone like syrup. 

Hello? And that was all I needed. I heaved and cried and begged her to forgive me, love me, want me. And before she could answer, I hung up. When she tried calling again, Meredith told her I was asleep. I was no such thing.

That’s the thing, I repeated to myself as I sat there in the rain and the dark and the night. I was no such thing, I was no such thing.

I liked the way my voice sounded in the rain. I liked my thin wrist and broken hands and heavy clothes. I liked the way my legs moved. I liked the way I lived. 

Thanksgiving was a week away. June had asked. 

That was the thing.

----

The next morning, I went down to the deli to get cigarettes and a coffee and maybe some candy. Ramone was behind the counter, a seventeen year old kid who always gives me an extra straw even when I walk in there drunk as a horse, laughing at the walls. 

Ramone, how are you? I asked.

Doing good, he said. Palls? 

Yeah, I said. What are you doing for the holidays?

His family owned the deli. His father sat in the back reading porno magazines and drinking milk.

Probably gonna see my family, he said. My cousins and all that. Coffee?

Yeah, I said. That’s nice. You deserve a day off.

Fuck yeah I do, he said. What about you? Twirlers?

Got anything sour? Probably gonna stay at home with the missus.

These? He asked, pulling out a bag of sour gummy bears. What’s the missus gonna do for the holidays?

Yeah, those are good I said. She’s gonna stay with me. Her family’s all dead.

Tell her I said sorry, he said. Eight dollars.

I will, I said. I will. Thanks, Ramone.

Meredith’s family wasn’t dead. In fact, I had a suspicion her bloodline would never end. All her sisters—all seven of them—have had maybe twenty kids in total. Meredith’s the only one who hasn’t settled down. And she sure as hell isn’t bringing me around, heathen galore. 

Meredith is scared she’s getting old. She’s a year older than me but sometimes, she comes home crying because none of the store clerks call her sweetie anymore. And none of the guys who whistle at her in the street can even keep it up. And her clothes feel funny. And isn’t she hideous? And shouldn’t I leave her? And I have to calm her down like a frightened dog. I hold her hair down and fuck her and make her pancakes and fuck her again and sing little songs to her. Meredith, my war torn country. 

I went home and slept for a while and took a pill and cleaned the apartment and ate some candy and watched television, reruns of an old sitcom. I waited for Meredith to come home. Meredith worked on Fifth Avenue. Eight hours in heels. Answering the world’s dumbest questions. Pushing handbags. I always tell her she’s too smart to be selling shitheads designer bags. But it’s a steady income and if there’s one thing Meredith needs it’s a steady income. 

I haven’t worked in a couple of months. I’m like that. My resume reads like an epic. This year I’ve worked as a janitor (took one nap too many in the bleachers, the sun crawling across my face) a bookseller (told everyone their taste was shit) a stocker at the grocery store (labeled everything a dollar) a waiter (spilled wine on seven different people in the same night). 

Truth be told, I wasn’t made to work. I was made to lay in bed and take a pill and watch the world. I was made to kiss and beg and sleep.

When Meredith came home, she had some goodies for me. I grinned into her mouth and we shared a pill. And then another. And then one more. When she left for work in the morning, I took a handful of pills. I swore they tasted like lemon drops. 

I spent the next three days awake. 

I put on my wife beater and trench coat and boots and stomped on everyone’s grounds. I went to a string of bars, whatever was open at whatever time it was. I put my mouth on the world’s mouth. I saw Christ in a plastic bag. I stole a lipstick from the pharmacy and gave the lipstick to a homeless woman. I went to a chapel in the middle of the afternoon and listened in on other people’s prayers, felt buzzed by the words leaving them. I went to the MoMa and spoke outloud. What is a masterpiece? I got a tattoo of a burning house on my wrist. I rented a bike and biked back and forth across the Brooklyn Bridge until it got dark, until the sun froze over into the moon. I popped balloons and swam in a fountain and learned how to play chess. I stayed still for an entire minute. I felt every brush of wind, heard every siren at once. I was the cowboy declaring the west his. I was the queen demanding a beheading. I was the beheaded, living after death. I was the ghost finding Heaven quite boring. 

I was God in his undies. 

It’s a miracle, I said when I returned home to find Meredith in front of the air conditioning, sucking on a lollipop and reading a newspaper. 

It’s a miracle I wasn’t arrested.

I don’t believe in miracles, Meredith said.

And she was right. I slept for nineteen hours and awoke in a cold sweat, the ceiling full of snakes. I couldn’t move. Even turning over felt like a marathon. 

 Meredith? I called out. 

But there was nothing. Just the television and the headlines. I stayed in bed for a couple days, weeping and talking myself out of it and weeping again. I called Meredith but she didn’t pick up. I hated her for that. 

When I finally awoke feeling more aligned, less twitch and more get out of bed, I sat on the edge of my bed eating toast. Thanksgiving was in two days. I decided to go. 

I felt that grateful. 

----

On the day before Thanksgiving, I took the bus up to Albany and took a cab to June’s house. I asked the driver to stop so I could smoke. I considered asking him if he could turn around. But I was out of cash. But maybe he’d do it regardless. Yeah, maybe.

Kid, let’s go! He called from behind the wheel.

I stuck with it. 

And as we approached, I could feel my heart drumming. Even more as we sat in her driveway. I paid the driver and got out. June worked as an administrative assistant at a company her boyfriend owned. Thus, two story house in the middle of Albany. I lit another cigarette and sat on her porch. As kids, June used to say I was the morning and she was night. For some reason, she felt so inadequate in comparison, so lame. Perhaps this was the nature of big sisters, especially ones who never got piano lessons or an allowance. Halfway through this thought, I heard the front door open behind me. 

Grace? She asked. Oh my god, Grace. 

I turned around. June was three years older than me. But she looked about ten. All fit in a white skirt and red sweater and floral earrings. I stood up and she hugged me as tight as a sheet. 

Come in, she said. Come in. 

Can I finish this first? I asked. 

Of course, she said. 

I didn’t like the way she stood over me as I smoked. I wondered if she thought I might leave. I wondered if I should have. June didn’t have any children yet. But she had a dog and a boyfriend who worked long hours. And she had a large backyard and a porch swing and windows the size of murals. She kept her eyes on me as I touched through everything. Dictionaries in three different languages. Tulips in glass. A vintage clock stuck at midnight. 

That night, it was only June and I. Her boyfriend was on a business trip. We drank rose and ordered pizza and she read me a chapter from one of her favorite books. And we fell asleep in her bed. I dreamt of crossword puzzles. I solved for genie. 

----

In the morning, June had already made up her side of the bed. I couldn’t hear anything. I got up, dressed in a wife beater and a pair of shorts June let me borrow and stood by the stairs. There were small murmurs. I got halfway down the stairs before realizing the scene. In the living room were my parents and my older brother Randall and June. All sat in a circle. I froze as they stared up at me. 

Hi baby, my mother said. 

I ran upstairs and shut the door behind me. I locked the door and when June knocked, I didn’t say a thing. I waited until I could hear go downstairs before calling Meredith. 

Meredith, I whispered. Meredith, it was all a fucking scam. 

What do you mean?

I mean, my family is pulling a goddamn fucking intervention for me. They’re downstairs in a circle. What do I do?

What? Why would they do that?

I could hear the sound of her snorting a line. 

----

Last time I saw June was back towards the end of May when she and her boyfriend came to the city to visit some of his old college friends. She wanted to see where I lived. It was raining, a hard spring rain. And we ran upstairs, our laughter colliding. It was good for a while. We made sandwiches with whatever was left in the fridge and drank beer and watched a couple of movies. But as I was smoking a cigarette, she turned towards me. 

Why do you do this? She asked. 

What do you mean?

We could help you, she said. We could get you clean. And I’d help you find work. And it could be nice. But this, this isn’t a way to live. 

Clean? I asked. 

Oh, come on. 

What? I’ve been “clean” since you’ve gotten here, I said. 

Yeah, what? Four hours? What were you doing in the bathroom?

I was taking a shit, I said. 

Yeah, for five minutes?

So I take sonic shits, so what? I’ve never asked–

I found this in your kitchen, she said, holding up a baggie. Three little pills inside. 

That doesn’t mean anything, I said. 

No?

No, come on. Who doesn’t take pills? I wanna relax. So, every now and then. 

Then why’s your nose bleeding?

Fuck you, I said, wiping my nose with my hand. And I sent her away into the rain. And yelled at her from the window as she walked to find a phone. 

Fuck you and your happy little life! Fuck you and your dog! Fuck you and your lawn! Fuck you, I hope you find what you’re looking for!

----

I’d taken a couple of pills when I woke up. But for extra measure, I took two more. And waited for June to slither in with her spare key.

Grace? She asked, kneeling down to where I was on the floor. 

I don’t want to do this, I whispered It’s really not so bad. It’s not what you think.

Grace, let’s go.

She held my hand and walked me downstairs as though I were crippled or old. But I was twenty five and nothing could hurt me.

----

Tell us what it’s like, my mother said. I was sitting between her legs as she pet my head, the pills kicking in like heat in my skin. I’d shaved my head a couple of months back. I wondered if that surprised her. And if it didn’t, what that said about me. 

Before we go, you should have a chance to speak. And Grace, we’re only doing this because we love you.

I sighed. 

We’re talking about drugs right? I asked. Not the occasional black out or night on the town. But drugs. The kind you would die for? The best goddamn thing?

Yes, she said.

Then, it feels like God is blessing you. Again and again, you’re blessed. And protected. And worshipped. It feels like you can’t live for another second in this world. But to be in the other world where the walls breathe and you’re on the run, forever on the run. It feels like heat in your skin. Not on but inside. It feels like being reigned king; a fat, slovely king with nothing to do but eat meat and pick who to kill. It feels like the only thing. It feels like hitting a homerun during the last inning, the sun falling into your eyes and the crowd roaring for you. It feels like being crushed during sex. It feels like God wants you to live. It feels like being able to live. 

It feels like that. And you’re asking me to give it up?

There was a silence. 

All we want is for you to be safe, my father said. And well. And there is no between. You can’t be on drugs and be well at the same time. It’s not possible.

But who says I have to be well? I asked, my words slurred. I’m no good at anything. I’m good at being high. And that’s it.

We do. We say that. Because we love you. And we want you around, in our lives. And you’re so young.

I’m not gonna live a long time, I said. Even if I got clean, I don’t have the stamina. I don’t.

Grace, all we ask is that you give it a try.

I did, I said. For twenty two years, I tried. I went to college. I did everything everyone said I had to do. I read books. I did well in class. I got internships. I had friends and time. I was doing well. And I felt nothing. 

Life isn’t one thing, my mom said. I could barely feel her fingers on my head. 

Life is as devoid as it is fruitful, she continued. But all of that is alright, it is doable. By getting clean, you’re choosing the only option that matters. 

----

After six hours of this, I agreed to go ahead with getting treatment. But not before taking the rest of my stash and falling asleep in my mother’s lap. And by that time the following year, I learned what they had meant. 

Because I was alive and Meredith wasn’t. 

[exo-wvrse-bbl]

24/03/24 - chen

Ddudung~💛

Hi😎 How was your day??

Good job today! Everyone said they were serious? It was cool 👍

I thought I took a good picture too

Soondaengies are amazing, aren't they?💛

It would be fun to take pictures with the same theme and have a photo exhibition later!!

I ate dinner 👍

I ate bossam again today!

Actually, I also ate raw fish ㅎㅎㅎ I ate too much👻

I should eat a little less tomorrow 😺

I ate a lot today ㅋㅋㅋ

Sweet and sour pork, jjampong, bossam, raw fish😎 That's what I ate today👍

Of course, I drank coffee!!

Iced👍

It was a little hot today;; I think I might not be able to drink warm things…ㅋㅋ

Anyway! I had a good rest while eating delicious food today 🦖

Don't skip meals and eat well😺

I want to eat ice cream too🫠

Soft ice cream🫠

Gelato…💛

I'm not particularly picky but…

Rice?? flavored gelato

There might be some likes and dislikes, but..

Mint choco… I like you…💚

I also like apple mint from Baskin Robbins in summer👻

I can't eat Hawaiian pizza!!

No, I can eat it,but I don't prefer itㅋㅋ

The fruit is warm..well..

I'm pepperoni~~ 😽

Right, right ㅋㅋ tastes may be different🫠

Um is there anything else?

Do you like affogato?

Ah! I tried that before ㅋㅋ

What is it

You know avocado?

I'll tell you in advance, but it can be a little strange! I tried it because I'm curious too ㅋㅋ

Even just avocado might not be easy

The avocado… if you dip it in soy sauce and wasabi, it tastes similar to tuna… I tried it..

I don't know… I saw it on Youtube ㅋㅋ

I also haven't eaten (it) since that day ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

If you're curious, I'd recommend you to try it👍ㅋㅋ

I like that too Mix a can of tuna with red pepper paste and rice and eat it wrapped in seaweed👍

Today is talking about eating ㅎㅎ

Today is my cheat day😎

Ah! What is a cheat day

Simply put, I'll hold it in and eat what I want to eat today! The same thing?

I'm not on a diet but..

Should I say it's maintenance..?

Shall we go again today!

It's been a while since I heard it too 😎

Today's theme may be hip-hop?

Right, don't skip meals!!😺

Let me introduce hip-hop songs from my memories ㅋㅋ

Dynamicduo~🫡

Oh!!

9.21

It's my time😎

I love you 💛

Oh, I'm one minute late ㅋㅋ 👻

Here we go~💛

Who said that? My playlist is top 100 ㅋㅋ

Slowly Shall we go to the last song?🦖

10cm Jungyeolie hyung~ 🫡

Time flies so fast ㅎㅎ

Sleep tight! Let's cheer up tomorrow!!!

Fighting to all Soondaengies around the world!!💛😎💛

Thank you for being with me today!

Then I'll contact you again next time🩷

🔜💛

source in desc

[apotodiplodocus]

YOU'RE MY IDOL!

Gyutaro X Reader

Chapter 1

The air is humid. Much too humid for your liking, stepping out of your agency’s HQ after a hard day of practice and into the debilitatingly hot air of summer was not ideal. The sweltering heat instantly makes the mask on your face unbearable, but it would be easier to stick it out than worry about being recognised. You only needed to stop by a supermarket for groceries before you head home to get ready for the night’s show.

You lower the cap on your head as you grab a trolley, carting it through the double doors and having to fight back a sigh when you finally entered the air-conditioned store. You mill about the aisles looking for what you need and even take the time to smell some candles, inevitably picking up a cherry and vanilla candle. Putting it in the cart you don’t notice someone walking past and accidentally pull back into their side.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, the man stiffens, looking down at you. Self-conscious, you adjust your hat before you look up at his face. The man has dark marks on his face, framed by fading, grown-out green hair. You hold eye contact with him, and he stiffens a bit. His eyes flicker between you and your cart a few times, he decides you already smell like the candle you were just holding.

“… Watch out next time.” He gruffly responds, swiftly turning and walking away, basket clutched tightly in one hand. You wonder what was up with him but shrug it off, you’d never see him again anyway. All the while he was wondering why you seemed so familiar, he swore he could recognise your eyes and voice but couldn’t place them.

You smile to yourself when you leave the store, bags in hand. Ever since starting your job as an idol you could afford to be a bit flippant about your money. You preferred to budget, but wouldn’t stop yourself from getting the average treat, like the candle you had picked up. As such when you saw an ice cream van on the way home you stopped to get yourself something. On your approach, you spot a girl not far from you also staring at the van but with a bit of sadness like she wanted one but couldn’t for some reason. You would feel awful to get something in front of her and you timidly approach her.

“Hi, I’m about to get something from the ice cream van do you want something?” Her head snaps to stare at you and for a second, she regards you like you were an unpleasant bug. She quickly plasters on a smile though.

“And what would you want in return, if I did ask you to?” She says, voice sickly sweet.

“Hey, I get it,” You put your hands up in surrender. “You can give me the service smile all you want. I personally don’t want anything from you. I’m not asking out of pity, you can call it a selfish offer, you get the ice cream you want, and I get the satisfaction of knowing I won’t feel guilty for getting an ice cream.” You realise after the fact how suspicious you must have looked, a cap pulled low and face mask on, so you pull the mask down under your mouth to set her a bit at ease. She thinks for a second, looking you up and down and decides you’re fashionable enough to not embarrass her.

“OK, I’m… Daki. Thanks for the offer, I’ll take a twin flake with bubble gum sauce.” She declares, sauntering to the van with you.

“I’m, uh, Minori, that’s no problem.” You come up with a fake name, not wanting to give anything about your identity away. You order what you both want and hand the money over, receiving your respective ice creams in under a minute. You don’t like to eat and walk so you take a seat nearby and invite Daki to join you. To your surprise she does.

You idly chatter for a few moments enjoying the cool ice cream, thankfully in the shade. You learn a bit about her, she loves to talk about her brother, fashion and make-up. You think she’s sweet, a bit haughty at times but she was just an average teenage girl. Coming from nothing and working your way up to where you were from a young age allowed you to feel recuperated with Daki, taking you back to your high school self.

“It was really nice talking to you, Daki. I have to get going but I hope everything works out how you want, and that you get that dream makeup palette.” You flash her a quick smile before you pull your mask up, bending down to reach your shopping bags.

“Yeah, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” She said watching you walk away.

It wasn’t long to your home, barely 5 minutes. You put away the groceries quickly and collapse onto your couch with a groan, hat and mask ripped off along the way. It was too hot in your apartment, and you were waiting for the air con to kick in before you would hop in the shower. To pass the time you watch videos on your phone, accidentally swiping along to a video about yourself. It talks about silly theories, that you were actually a clone of a woman who had died before you were even born, or that you only ate raw onions to keep your skin smooth. You laughed at the videos, feeling so strange that people were actually buying into the theories. You were tempted to comment but your agency would freak out.

When the heat starts to become more bearable you rush into the shower washing away the sweat that had accumulated from both practice and the weather. You use your normal shampoo and conditioner but decide to use a vanilla body wash that day, for no particular reason, you just enjoyed the smell. When you were finished and dry, you quickly made yourself a small meal, not wanting to be too full for all the dancing you would be doing soon. The rest of the afternoon passes ordinarily and it’s not long before you need to head out. You needed to be at the venue early for them to get you and your bandmates ready. You snatch your keys as you head out and are met at the door by your manager. A rambunctious man, Tengen Uzui had discovered you one day when you were singing in your kitchen. He had somehow gotten to your second-story window and passed you a card through your kitchen window, shaken you had taken it and barely listened to his sales pitch. You originally resolved to ignore the strange man but you were bored and struggling for money so you figured what would be the harm. Luckily for you, he was a successful talent scouter and quickly gathered a group of girls who would become your friends and co-workers.

“Ah! (Y/N)! There you are. If you’d have made me wait any longer, I was gonna break your door down!” He exclaims, a wide grin on his face. You raise an eyebrow unamused. While he was a fantastic man, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed by him sometimes, and the heat was not helping. His smile doesn’t even falter at your lack of enthusiasm, ushering you to the car quickly. He almost breaks the speed limit three times on the way to the venue, you weren’t even late, he was just a menace that had you white knuckling your seat the whole way. His girlfriends practically egged him on from the back seat with their amused screams, except for Hinatsuru who was gently discouraging him for scaring you, but she had a forgiving smile on her face, holding one of his arms in the front seat.

When you get to the venue you feel a bit car sick but force yourself through the process of getting ready, hair, make-up, outfit and mic all being sorted by many hands. You almost felt like a doll passed around children, but the team had yet to let you down. After this show, there was going to be a meet and greet where merch like face cards and lights would be sold. You weren’t exactly looking forward to it because you were a private person, but you did enjoy the chance to interact with your fans, as long as they didn’t try to get too personal with you.

Just like that, you are on stage performing to a fair few people, your group was steadily rising in popularity, and this was one of your last shows that would be hosted in a bar/restaurant venue. Due to this, there were a few people who were just regular patrons that just paid an entry fee to gain access to their bar of choice. You sing and dance as hard as you can, the practice earlier in the day preparing you but making you tired easier than usual. After the last song, you are in desperate need of fresh air.

You step back behind the curtain, grab your phone, and put a long coat over your costume, hiding your face as you rush to a back exit. Propping open the door to make sure you don’t get locked out; you lean against the wall taking desperate deep drags of the cool night air. It was still warmer than usual but compared to the heat of the building it was nice. You couldn’t see the stars because of the bright lights around the bar, which makes you a bit sad, but you just focus on the cooling sensation on your face. You hear the door scrape open and assume it’s one of your bandmates turning with a smile, you’re greeted by a clearly tipsy man, who has his eyes set on you.

You squeak in surprise and back up a bit, hands going to tighten the coat around you. How did he see you come out here or was this somehow a coincidence? It didn’t really matter as every time you took a step back, he took a step towards you. He was rambling about how he was such a big fan, had been in love with you for some time now and wanted to be in a relationship with you. He then disgustingly starts detailing how he wanted to keep you perpetually pregnant with his children and you felt sick. Your brain was thinking of a million different ways to get away from the man but in the closed-off alleyway, there was no escape other than the door he was blocking.

The cool air that had been soothing before now felt suffocating, like you were drowning. But you had prepared for this, Uzui had prepared you. Once he got too close and started to look a bit grabby, you took a step back to steady yourself, taking a second to look at the intense, perverse glint in his eye before you wound back your foot and kicked him in the crotch. He grunts and drops to one knee, but as you rush past you clearly didn’t kick hard enough as his hand whips out and grabs your hair. He yanks, sending you to the floor, and landing hard on your ass. You gasp at the pain, grunting against the strain of his pull on the hair at the base of your neck. He leans in and starts whispering about how bad you were and that he needed to teach you a lesson now. Taking some sick pleasure in your fear, he licks up the length of your face.

It's at that moment, his tongue halfway up your cheek that someone walks out into the alley. They grunt in disgust at the position you were both in.

“Ugh, fuckin’ disgustin’ both a’ya. Get a fuckin’ room.” He snarls and turns.

“H-Help! Please!” You yell as he heads back through the door. He quickly peeks his head around the corner of the doorframe, bright blue eyes seeming to glow as he took in the situation again. The man was now covering your mouth, glaring at the man, telling him it was none of his business. Your eyes stay trained on his as he quickly assesses the situation, his expression quickly turning to rage and disgust. His eyes finally lock with yours, a pleading expression, sweat and tears on your face as you struggle against the much older man, though scared you are defiant. He steps back onto the alley.

“Men like you are so gross, what can’t afford a girl so you gotta attack one? Fuckin’ disgusting.” His voice wobbles in pitch as he stomps his way over. He slams the bottom of his shoe into the man’s face with enough force that the man collapses onto the ground. A sickening crack rings out as his head hits the ground, the foot still on his face pushing. The man squirms against the shoe on his cheek, attempting to push up or away, his grip on your hair long forgotten. You take this chance to quickly shuffle yourself away watching the exchange. The man from the grocery store relents his foot, letting the man stand up and yells abuse at him. He barely waits for the tipsy man to stabilise himself before he’s smacking the man’s face with his fist. Completely pummelling him to the ground again, he leaps on top of him and keeps the fist flying, there’s clearly no contest. You can’t help but watch, strangely enraptured with the show the man is providing. You never liked violence in the past but seeing the man who had attacked you getting the shit beat out of him was an arousing display of power. You want to look away, the man’s face starting to become bloody, but you just can’t, instead focusing on every aspect of the dominant man. He’s thin but lean, his loose clothing flies around with the speed of the man’s attacks and his hair, a bit of it tied into a ponytail that manages to stick straight up is swishing with the force. You stay like this for a moment longer before someone else comes rushing out, pulling him off.

“Brother! What the fuck are you doing?” You snap to look at them and see Daki, the girl you had bought the ice cream for. She looks just as surprised to see you.

“Daki?”

“Minoru? Wait, Minori?” She looks confused, the semi-revealing outfit you’re wearing clues her in on the fact you were an idol. You were surprised she managed to recognise you from only having seen the lower half of your face. Both of your attentions are drawn back to Daki’s brother when he spits on the man, who was now a twitching mess on the ground. He had been calm, not wriggling or anything, probably so he didn’t accidentally hurt Daki.

“Disgustin’ bastard thinks s’OK to attack women.” He looks like he’s getting ready to spit again but then he realises that you recognised each other. “You know her?” He looks like there is rising panic, a light blush dusting his face, which is very confusing for you.

“Yeah, she bought me an ice cream, she-” Daki is cut off by her brother.

“Wait let’s talk about this somewhere else.” He then gives one last kick to the man’s ribs before rushing back inside. Daki sighs and you scramble to your feet to follow the pair, you hadn’t even had a chance to say thank you after all, yeah that’s the reason.

 

Definitely not for any other reason.

[hot-take-tournament]

it's finally time to close the book on this

HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT:

SHOWDOWN AT HIGH NOON (#15)

Submissions 8, 24, 28, 33, 88, 98, 213, 261, 272, 280

IS PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA GOOD?

[ALL PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT]

Then we never have to talk about this again.

Pre-preliminaries will be used to determine what qualifies as a hot take. Propaganda is encouraged!

Also, remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure! (exposure like when your exposed to deadly radiation)

YES:

(24)

Pinapple [sic] belongs on pizza.

There are many dishes that mix sweet and savory. Cheese and fruit as found on charcuterie boards is a prime example. What else mixes fruit and cheese? That’s right. Pineapple pizza. The salty savoriness of the cheese blends perfectly with the cooked pineapple, which is less tart than raw fruit. Add bacon, canadian bacon, or chicken for extra deliciousness. You either like pineapple on pizza or you’re a coward.

(28)

Pineapple on pizza is not only good, it’s the best pizza topping there is

Sweet and savory is a godly flavor combo. It hits all the notes at once. It provides the acid and the sweetness to an otherwise very heavy dish

(33)

Adding to the last one I sent [about milk before cereal], "pineapple does not belong on pizza" people are also annoying as fuck

I don't even like pineapple but it's the only pizza my best friend will tolerate and I'm tired of people calling her a freak for it

(98)

Pineapple on pizza is fine.

I work in a pizza place & have to see absolutely fucking horrific monstrosities that people call pizza. Here’s a list of things worse than pineapple that I’ve seen on pizza: any topping that people ask for “extra extra” of (like mushrooms or spinach), fish, nacho cheese sauce, & a mix of beans and salsa

(213)

Pineapple on pizza is fine.

It's not mana from heaven or anything but it's not bad either. The flavors balance out pretty well.

(261)

PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA IS AMAZING!!!

it tastes good and pepperoni fans are just mean to us pineapple on pizza likers.

YES, but –

(272)

i like pineapple on pizza. the ham is the problem

listen i can do meat on pizza. but ham AND pineapple? no. something about that feels unholy. so i pick off the ham so i can enjoy my pineapple pizza. also i am allergic to pineapple. but we persevere

(280)

pineapple pizza is good in america

the sweet and savory combination is just… ough. but most native italian people don’t like the idea of pineapple pizza. why? the answer comes in the difference in tomatoes in italy and the united states. in america, tomatoes are very sour and savory, so pineapple can really do a pizza some favors. however, italian tomatoes, while still savory and tart, are very sweet. putting pineapple on an italian pizza would just be redundant.

(8)

I think people need to stop being so angry about Pineapple on Pizza. Weather [sic] you like it or not isn't a big deal

If we're supposed to 'respect other's opinions' then why do pizza toppings need to start a war? It's really pointless.

(oh... um... sorry dude. guess i'm not helping, am i)

NO:

(88)

pineapple on pizza should be outlawed

disgusting. crime against perfectly good pizza.

i’m RIGHT., i will FIGHT YOU, 🍍+🍕= 🚮

(266)

Pineapple should not be on pizza.

Fruit allergiers, particularly pineapple allergies, are steadily on the rise and this topping will legit kill someone if there's not at least some proper storage.

I work in a pizza place, and have been working with pizza for years. There is NO proper storage for pineapple at most pizza places. It comes from a can and the juice gets on every surface. Same with 90% of other toppings.

If you have a friend who is allergic to pineapple, do not recommend pizza for dinner during hang outs. Opt for anything else.

Pineapple should not be on pizza. The hell fruit should stay out of pizza kitchens.

[swiftfootedachilles]

Adding to your autistic Mickey convos with Ian learning to unmask as well and embracing his neurodivergent traits so their home ends up having a stim toy basket and the pile of blankets that are different weights and textures that move around the house as needed. And lots of parallel play as you've mentioned, the shared emotions of "I love you and want to spend time with you but in our own comfortable way"

Previous anon, I love your idea of them exploring food they actually like. I can definitely see Mickey being a hands-on eater, to others he looks like he's playing with his food but he's just exploring the feeling and texture of the food. And Ian has his set times for meals and snacks that he prefers to follow, partially because of his meds but mostly because he feels comforted that at those times he knows there would be food

@ every anon ive gotten on this topic i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i l

YEAHHHHH THE CHOOSE UR OWN ADVENTURE STIM TOY COLLECTION AND BLANKET PILE!!!! @babygirlmickey once said to me that ian totally signs them up for a stim/sensory subscription box and yeah i love that. mickey is a collector of Things and Stuff and his husband loves enabling that when it comes to useful tools to help mickey express himself and self sooth

ian helping mickey embrace his true self in a safe and loving environment just like mickey did for him 🥺 (sidenote: that speech? that ian gives to sue about bd? yeah he did that his damn self, but he never wouldve gotten to that level of self acceptance without mickeys prior support)

ooooooouuuuuu they deserve all the parallel play im sure they love doing the same thing together but theres something so special about ian and mickey spending quality time together and strengthening their bond thru parallel play. their relationship went thru hell and back a million times before they even got married, the only way is up! they get to grow closer in a safe domestic environment!!

i love mickey "seems like a human trash compactor at first glance" milkovich and ian "actual human trash compactor but he prefers organic😌✨" gallagher going on food adventures together. yeah sometimes they cant STAND the other one being in the kitchen while they're trying to cook, but sometimes they do lil food experiments together and follow recipes and make up their own recipes on the fly. and if mickey doesnt like it or picks thru his food ian will eat whatever he doesnt because hes just here having the time of his life trying new things and eating anything thats not fucking spaghetti 4 times a week. but mickey has a tendency to add too much spice and ian has tummy hurt disorder :( so he always slaps that shit out of mickeys hand when he sees him adding it. come on mick just add hot sauce on your plate and stop with all the fucking chili oil already. but one day mickey adds WAYYY too much and theyre both on fire fighting over the milk and ian gives him the chin for like a week straight so he chills it with the spice

mickey often puts himself on sandwich/instant ramen/toast duty for lunch bc he likes having ians food ready before the alarm goes off

[0glitched0-1out1]

so this evening i hung out with two friends of mine, one the bisexual one, if you remember when i mentioned her, and shes like one of my best friends, the other a girl that tells me im bisexual in a no ironic way but seriously even if im not.

so we hung out like, at 7.30cus it was too hot to do it before and i went to her house to pick her up with my dad driving us. (i dont live real far from where we hang out, but the streets id have to walk thru to go there, arent the best 💀) she doesnt live far from the square of the city, in fact she lives close to the bi friend (its her nickname now lmao) but she still cant walk all the way there and she doesnt always have someone to drive her like me and the bi friend, so i always, ALWAYS, except for rare times, pick her up. to go to the beach, and hangout, go shopping, everything.

When we arrived, we fucked around, joked, and ate what i sent you. its called a poke bowl. now, i dont live in the place in italy that the poke is most famous, but i still eat it a lot cus love it 🤭🤭. (its like rice with sauces you choose, and i always put crispy chicken, etc)

now only me and bi got it cus the other friend, that i will call slow-ass, doesnt really like it cus she says its too much (💀) and she doesnt understand how we can eat that much. now no bodyshaming, but you cant tell me you love my body before, and then at your benefit its not pretty. anyways never really got personal bout it cus i love my body 😉😋

of course when we went to a park i asked for water she said that she didnt want to accompany me (WHY?) after insisting for a while i told her i literally drive her here and there all the time, and i know its kinda obnoxious,but i was gettn freaky freaky (like with human killer sans 😌😩👆) ANYWAYS she said that it would weight to her taking me there, its a way in Italy to say that it would really annoy us, and i responded saying that i also get annoyed having to always do her favors and bever get repayed. it ended up with me getting bored cus she kept saying dumb things (iM SORRY BUT ITS TRUE. SHE SAID THE SAME THINGS OVER AND OVEr AND OVER, i will not specify now maybe later) and then she said that i had to look at her while she spoke, so i looked ay he,r, and she pushed me back by my neck, squeezin it. now, i dun wanna say anything bad. but shes literally like, 1.45? its like 4.7, shes small and petite and im twice her size. i couldve pushed her back but i didnt. PEACE 🫶 she kept goin on for a while, while our bi friend told us to fuck instead of fight (😋) nyways i ended up bein the one apologozing, and Everything went well

now ima tell you the next part but i wanna knownif it bothers u i wrote a whole lot 😩👆

Woah dude

You sure your ok?

I wouldn't really want to have a friend/s like that tbh

[lessersole]

Happy Birthday, Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Thunderbolt!Reader (no Y/N or pet names), (briefly) Walker, Yelena, Val, Sam

Summary: Reader and Bucky celebrate his birthday with a movie night

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Originally had this as a mid-part of a longer series that may never see the light of day, so re-drafted it as a standalone to celebrate Bucky's 106th birthday! Only background you need is that Reader is a member of the Thunderbolts and was friends with Steve during the Blip.

Warnings: A little fluff, a little lust

---

Back in your tiny apartment, you wake up slowly and stretch. After finding the energy to make yourself a coffee, you slip back into bed to stay warm and scroll through your phone. Swiping past your calendar, you frown at a small note on this Friday’s date that you don’t remember adding. It’s only when you open it that you realise it was something you’d put in during the Blip, set up to recur annually.

Check on Steve - Bucky’s bday

Obviously, you don’t have to worry about Steve’s happiness any more, but you wonder if Bucky has any plans. You have no idea if he has any friends in the city, and he doesn’t seem like the type to want much of a celebration. But it would be a good excuse for him to cut loose and relax a bit, which, in your opinion, he sorely needs. Finally getting out of bed, you rummage around in your closet for some clean workout clothes. A trip to the gym at the Thunderbolts building would be a good way as any other to start the day.

—

When you get to the gym, Walker’s the only other person there, so you put in your headphones and studiously ignore him until he leaves. You complete your workout without anyone else appearing, then grab a quick shower and head to the shared kitchen on the residential floor. There are rooms for the whole team, but none of you live in the Tower full-time, so it’s not unusual for it to be pretty quiet.

As you’re making the most of the free supplies for your lunch, Yelena bounds into the kitchen, with an exaggerated grimace, “Kill me now,” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around you in greeting while you slice tomatoes, “It would be a kindness to put me out of my misery.”

“Meeting went well?” you ask as she releases you.

“It was sooo booooring,” Yelena rolls her eyes, “It’s not fair that I have to listen to these stupid briefings just because I’m so good at fighting. But this looks nice,” she grabs half of your freshly made sandwich and sniffs it before biting off a corner.

“Hey, I just made that!”

“And it was very kind of you,” she replies sincerely, getting out plates for you both and taking hers to the table with a bottle of hot sauce.

Bucky enters the kitchen next, doing a slightly better job of hiding his boredom. Val follows just behind, and narrows her eyes at you.

“You know, I’m pretty sure your contract explains that sustenance is only provided for freelance team members when they’re on mission.”

After chewing thoughtfully on your food, you explain that surely keeping in shape for missions was part of your job, and nutrition was an important part of that. “Plus, I’m basically just catering at this point,” you finish, gesturing to where Yelena was devouring half of your lunch.

“Fine,” Val concedes, as though she couldn’t think of anything she cared less about anyway, “Yelena, now that you’ve eaten, you can come back and finish being briefed for your next mission.”

It was probably a good thing that Yelena’s response - which you were pretty sure was just a string of Russian profanities - was basically unintelligible through her mouthful of food, but she got up anyway and reluctantly followed Val out of the room, leaving you alone with Bucky.

“You want some too?” You ask, pointing at the sandwich ingredients.

“Sure,” he replies, joining you at the counter to make his own.

You watch him silently as you finish eating, then ask casually, “So, it’s your birthday this weekend, right? Doing anything for it?”

He glances at you in surprise, presumably not expecting you to have noticed, or known, the date.

“Yeah,” he responds, “Sam’s coming in for a visit on Saturday, he has…plans.” He sounded apprehensive at the prospect of Sam’s surprise evening, which made you smile.

“But isn’t your birthday the Friday?”

“Yeah, but he’s busy in DC then.”

“So what are you doing on the actual day?”

Bucky frowns slightly, “Nothing. The day after’s fine.”

“Well sure,” you lean a hip on the counter to tilt towards him, “But you have to do something on the actual day. Doesn’t have to be a big thing, or even with anyone else. Just, I don’t know, eat your favourite meal, watch your favourite movie…”

You trail off expectantly, but Bucky just shrugs.

“Okay, so what do you do when you want to treat yourself? Something you enjoy but don’t get to do that often.”

Bucky stares at you blankly. You boggle incredulously back at him.

“Oh come on! Even Steve would indulge in the occasional Twinkies binge. There must be something?”

Bucky’s brow was furrowed in thought, “I guess I like training. Makes me feel useful.”

“Bucky, no!” you groan, “For one thing, you do that every day, for another, ‘exercising’ and ‘being useful’ are not treats. You need something that’s selfish, just for you.”

Bucky just shrugs in response, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

You sigh, “Well, this needs to be dealt with,” you cross your arms and chew on your lip thoughtfully, remembering the stories Steve shared with you about their lives in the ‘40s.

“We could go to Coney Island? Or out dancing? From what I heard you were always trying to drag Steve to stuff like that.”

“We?”

“Yeah, can just be you and me or we could invite some of the others. Not Walker though.” You add darkly. “Or I guess maybe you’re doing stuff like that with Sam. We could do something quieter - a night in, take-out and movies?”

Bucky’s looking at you strangely.

“Or if you just want to be alone, you can still do that. I can recommend you some stuff you might like,” you grin at him, “I’ll even generously share my streaming password with you.”

Bucky still looks confused, blinking a few times before he manages to reply.

“A movie night sounds…okay. Not with the others. But you don’t have to come over, you probably have a better way to spend your Friday night.” He flashes you a quick smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you shake your head.

“I’d like to spend the night with you,” you reply simply, and truthfully, “So, any favourite foods?”

You chat for a little longer, coming up with ideas for the evening and noting down his home address. You leave looking forward to the evening - it’ll be nice to spend some time with Bucky outside of missions and training.

—

Soon enough, Friday rolls around. After working a shift at your day job, you sweet-talk a co-worker into letting you skip out early, and make your way to Brooklyn. Bucky lives in the same neighbourhood Steve used to, so you know it fairly well, and on your way you pick up beers, birthday cake and a pizza, rushing to get to his apartment before it gets cold. Someone leaving the building lets you in, and you head up the stairs to Bucky’s front door.

Trying to keep both the pizza and cake boxes flat, you awkwardly wedge the cake against your hip, balance the pizza between your other hand and shoulder, grip the pack of beer under your elbow, and gently kick the door in lieu of knocking. It’s opened quickly by Bucky, dressed casually in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, his bright eyes amused at the number of things you’re carrying.

“Let me get that,” he offers immediately. You let him take the pizza and beer, and follow him into the apartment. It’s clean, but a little too tidy, looking more like an empty hotel room than a lived-in home.

“You didn’t need to bring all this,” he says, looking curiously at the bakery box, “I have drinks already.”

“Better to have too much than too little,” you answer cheerily, setting the cake down on his kitchen counter, “Now, this is for later,” you place your hand on the closed box, “But the pizza is for now. Unfortunately, you live in Brooklyn, so the actual best pizza in the city would be cold by the time I got it over here, but I’ve heard some people say Grimaldi’s is the best. Obviously, they’re wrong, but you’re a weird Brooklyn guy too, so let’s see what you think.”

Bucky chuckles, “Not weird in a way that means I can’t properly judge a pizza.”

You give him a look that says you’re highly sceptical of that, before pulling a birthday card out of your bag and presenting it to him with a smile.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky.”

He takes the card from you with a soft thanks, opens it and laughs, “What…?”

You grin back at him, “For some reason I couldn’t find a card for a 106 year old, so I modified this one. It suits you, don’t you think?”

The card is for a 10th birthday, and you’ve drawn a big 6 on it, so it now reads “106 years old today!” above a cartoon dinosaur wearing a top hat.

“A dinosaur?” Bucky questions, failing to suppress his smile.

“Because you like science…and dinosaurs are really old, like you.” You beam at him as though this should be obvious, “but, as you can see, this one’s fancy too. He’s a gentleman dinosaur.”

“You are so strange,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

You shrug, “Well, that makes two of us. You got a bottle opener?”

You grab a beer for each of you, noticing Bucky’s shy smile as he reads the message you’ve written inside the card.

Happy Birthday to my favourite centenarian! There’s no one I’d rather be spending time spying on and punching people with. I’m glad we’re on the same team.

You chat over movie choices while you eat the pizza, which you reluctantly admit is pretty good. You’re aware of Bucky’s love for The Lord of the Rings, and Steve had mentioned he was interested in science and futurism, so you suggest some fantasy and sci-fi choices. In the end Bucky decides on Alien - double billed with Aliens, at your insistence - with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon for the end of the night.

“If there’s time,” he qualifies, “You don’t have to stay for all three if you don’t want to. It’ll be pretty late by then.”

You smile, knowing you won’t want to leave no matter how late it is.

“I think you underestimate me, Buck. I’m a night owl, there’s no such thing as too late for me.”

Once you’re done eating, you settle comfortably onto his couch to start watching. After the first film ends, you take advantage of Bucky’s trip to the bathroom to take the cake out of its box and stick in a few candles. You’ve just got the last one lit and turned off the lights when he comes back.

“Happy Birthday Bucky,” you say with a smile, presenting him with the cake.

His eyes, shimmering in the candlelight, swim with gratitude, and you feel a rush of protective affection for him at how overwhelmed he is by the smallest things.

“Make a wish,” you add softly, holding the cake out towards him.

Bucky holds your gaze for a long moment, moving in close to you and covering your hands with his, as though to help hold the cake steady. Maintaining eye contact until the last possible moment, he leans forward and blows. You’re surprised at the sudden, hot pulse of lust that rips through you as he does, your lips parting involuntarily as the feeling pools between your legs.

You’d been attracted to him since you met, but something about his tender, deliberate movements was making your knees weak. As Bucky straightens up you see him note the bob of your throat as you swallow, and a cocky smile pulls at the corner of his lips. You take a deep breath and drag your eyes from his smooth, enticing mouth.

“Ready for something sweet?” you ask.

“Definitely.”

A couple slices of cake and a few hours later, you’ve fallen asleep on Bucky’s couch, tucked up comfortably under his arm, a blanket spread across you both. The third movie ended more than half an hour ago, but Bucky hasn’t wanted to wake you, instead enjoying the sensation of your warm body pressed against him, turning his face slightly to breathe in the scent from your hair where your head leans against his shoulder. Just the fact that you’re comfortable enough to fall asleep on him like this makes his heart swell.

But the clock creeps further into the wee hours, so making a decision, Bucky carefully wraps you in the blanket and lifts you up, taking you to his bedroom. You stir slightly, and as he sets you down on the cold bed, you open your eyes.

“Bucky,” you mumble, your voice full of sleep.

He hushes you gently, “It’s okay, stay asleep,” he whispers, before moving away.

You hum softly, and grab the front of his shirt, stopping him leaving.

“This is your bed,” you say sleepily.

“It is,” he agrees with a smile, “go back to sleep.”

“No,” you murmur, struggling to keep your eyes open, but not releasing your hold on him, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

Bucky smiles and leans back down, brushing the hair out of your eyes, “It’s really not a problem,” he assures you.

“Nope,” you say, less groggy and more insistent, “I can sleep on the couch if you want, but the only way I’m sleeping in your bed is if you’re in here with me."

Bucky hesitates. A part of him would love nothing more than to join you, to hold you close all night and wake up with you in his arms. But he doesn’t trust himself. And he doesn’t believe he deserves something so perfect and normal.

“It’s really okay,” he begins, but, more awake now, you cut him off.

“I promise to keep my hands to myself if that’s what you’re worried about,” you say with a sly, sleepy smile.

Bucky huffs out a quiet laugh and pauses, unsure how much to tell you.

“I get nightmares,” he admits quietly, “it - I might hurt you.”

Your eyes are fully open now, and you stare deep into his worried ones.

“Flashbacks?” you ask softly.

“Yes,” he seems surprised you know.

You nod slowly, “Been there. Having someone with you can help.”

Bucky frowns, frozen in indecision.

You roll your eyes and grab his flesh arm, tugging him down onto the bed beside you.

“Stop being an idiot and just sleep with me,” you tell him, moving closer to tuck the blanket over you both and gently rest your head on his chest, “Is this okay?” you check, registering his surprise, and when he nods you nestle into him with a contented sigh. After a moment you feel him relax beneath you. His right arm presses along your back, holding you to him, while he brings his vibranium arm up and across his body to wrap around your hip.

“Good night,” you mutter, smiling into his chest but not opening your eyes, “and happy birthday, again.”

He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers back to you, “Good night. And thank you, again.”

—

Bucky wakes up early the next day, as usual. What’s not usual is your warm, sleeping form next to him - or the complete absence of nightmares. He feels more rested than he has in months, if not longer, even though it can’t be more than a few hours since he fell asleep.

Looking down at your face in the easy morning light, he watches you carefully, your face soft and unguarded as you sleep.

He realises that he hasn’t really seen you completely relaxed until now. You always have a sardonic smile and quick quip, are rolling your eyes in exasperation at your teammates, or are just closed off and blankly unreadable. Remembering what you said last night about having experience with flashback nightmares, he wonders if your attitude is a defence to keep people at a distance. And if so, is it intentional, or is it instinct? What have you been through to make you - in this way - similar to him?

The knowledge that you had let your defences down with him last night feels like an honour. He wonders if spending the night with him helped you as well, and hopes it did - he’s proud that he may have kept you safe and comfortable. Wrapping his arms around you tighter and letting himself drift back to sleep, he hopes that he gets the chance to learn all these things about you - and more.

A few hours later, you stir in his arms, rousing him from his doze. He pulls back slightly, and looks into your sleepily opening eyes.

“Morning,” you greet him groggily.

“Morning,” he smiles back, glad that you’re happy to stay close as you gradually return to consciousness.

Mirroring his smile, you glance down at the both of you and chuckle, “You know it was a good birthday when you wake up in yesterday’s clothes.”

“Yeah, I should probably shower,” Bucky realises, “And you can shower here too, if you want. I can lend you something to wear.”

You sleepily raise an eyebrow, “Is that a pointed comment?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, “No, no, I just-”

“I’m joking,” you swat him lightly on his chest and sit up, “It’s probably more considerate to everyone else on the subway to shower here. But - coffee?”

Bucky smiles. You might have fallen asleep before him last night, but you’re clearly not a morning person.

“How about I make coffee while you take a shower. And breakfast, I think I have some eggs.”

“That sounds like a great plan. But, uh,” you hesitate, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I understand men from the ‘40s weren’t really taught to cook, and the one time I ate something Steve made…” you tail off, a look of disgust on your face at the memory.

Bucky laughs, “You can’t blame the ‘40s for that, Steve’s just a terrible cook. But trust me. How much could I mess up an egg?”

You narrow your eyes at him, your voice dripping with suspicion, “What Steve made me was supposed to be an omelette.”

Bucky snorts, “And let me guess, it looked and tasted like something he’d found on the sidewalk?”

“It looked and tasted like a hate crime! Against me personally, or all chickenkind, I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” Bucky assures you through his laughter, “I promise not to hurt you like that. My eggs will taste, at worst, like a recreational misdemeanour,” his smile fades suddenly, “Wait, Steve made you breakfast?”

Now it’s your turn to smile. Is Bucky jealous?

“No,” you respond with a smirk, “It was lunch. That would have been a terrible way to start the day.”

—

When you emerge from the shower, the smell of Bucky’s cooking reassures you that this will be a better experience than Steve’s ‘omelette’. You dress in the sweats Bucky’s laid out for you - failing to resist smelling his Henley as you pull it over your head - then move to the kitchen. Both of you drink coffee and eat the perfectly edible eggs, chatting companionably about what you’d watched the night before. You promise Bucky another movie night soon, ostensibly to help with his “cultural education”. He refuses to let you do the dishes, so the two of you wash and dry them side by side before he goes for his shower.

You’re enjoying another cup of coffee before you have to say goodbye and make your way back to Manhattan, when there’s a knock at the front door. You can still hear the water going from Bucky’s shower, and it sounded like he wasn’t expecting anyone at the moment. Confused, you pad over and look through the peephole, seeing a face that’s immediately recognisable.

You pull the door open with a wide smile, “Captain Wilson,” you greet Sam. He’s clearly shocked to see you opening Bucky’s door, but you gesture for him to come in, “So great to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, you have?” Sam asks, struggling to conceal his delighted grin, “And please, call me Sam.”

You introduce yourself and shake hands.

“Bucky’s in the shower,” you explain, “But he’ll be out any minute.”

As if he heard you, Bucky bursts out of the bathroom, dripping wet and wearing only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. You’d swear you could feel your pupils dilating with lust as you took him in - not to mention what the sight of him was doing to the rest of you.

Beads of water roll over his strong shoulders, one webbed with scars, the other lightly dusted with freckles, before sliding down the swell of his chest. His dog tags rest just above the hard ridges of his abs, and your eyes drift down, following the trail of dark hair where it led from his stomach beneath the towel, centred between a defined v-line you ache to trace with your tongue.

Bucky’s flustered voice just about brought you out of your libidinous reverie, “Sam! Didn’t you say you’d be getting in in the afternoon?”

Sam’s clearly enjoying the situation, “Oh yeah, ‘thanks man for coming to see me on my birthday’,” he mocks, “I got an earlier flight, thought we could start the celebrations early. But it looks like you already did.”

You return the delighted grin he gives you while Bucky grumpily thanks Sam for coming to visit and moves to greet him.

“Woah, you gotta put some clothes on before you get any closer,” Sam warns him light-heartedly.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” you say, winking at Bucky as you drain the last of your coffee, “Nice to meet you Sam, I hope I’ll see you again some time.”

“I’m sure you will,” Sam still looks like the cat that got the cream.

Shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your bag, you approach Bucky confidently, “Have fun tonight, birthday boy,” you lightly place a hand on his bare waist and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “but not too much fun.”

“Sure,” Bucky grumbles, but there’s a smile he can’t quite hide hovering on his lips, and he walks you to the door - always a gentleman even in just a towel.

You turn with a smile as you leave, “And give me a call if you make it across the river tonight.”

“I will,” Bucky nods, then reaches out to pull you close and adds, softly enough that Sam can’t hear, “And thank you for last night. And this morning. I had a great birthday.”

After a fraction of a second’s hesitation, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, warming you head to toe.

You beam back at him, “I’m glad. I had fun too,” you step back reluctantly and call a goodbye to both him and Sam.

As you start down the corridor, you hear Sam’s voice even through the door.

“Dude, you had a girl here? Overnight!? Are you kidding me?”

You walk away with a smile, still hearing laughter and a final exclamation before you head out, something that sounds like, “As long as it’s not my sister.”

[threadsun]

The chef (baker?) puts the rolls in their spot and straightens back up to look at you “Can I help you?” Now that you can see their face properly you notice they’re wearing face paint of some kind, must be good stuff too, it’s such a bright pink but it doesn’t look cakey at all, ironic for a baker “Are you gonna order something or are you just going to stare at me?” You snap out of your little trance, apologizing for staring and asking how much for the pancakes

they tilt their head in confusion “Uh, unless I made another stack in my sleep Ian just paid for them, you don’t owe me anything” You feel your face get hot, both from how awkward this interaction was getting and the fact that you let them pay for you like that. You ask how much it was so you can pay Ian back later. Rory chuckles at this “Don’t worry, they were about five bucks, nothing to sweat over. Besides, Ian’s loaded nowadays, but if you are gonna have a heart attack over it could you do it outside? I really don’t feel like getting the mop out”

You chuckle, appreciating their attempt to lighten the mood. You tell them you’ll make sure to reschedule your heart attack for a later date and ask for their name “Damn, you really are new, huh? I’m Rory, Rory Rainberry, pleasure to meet you…?” You tell them your name, and then tell them your full name to mimic them “Huh, so it really is you. Everyone was talking about how you were gonna come back after the founder died but I was a bit skeptical. Glad to have you here though, you seem alright, as long as you give all this your best shot I’m sure you’ll do fine”

You can feel a bit of weight come off your shoulders as they speak, the way they talk making it seem like they’re an old friend rather than some stranger. You thank them for the assurance, telling them that today’s already been a bit of a whirlwind and you’ve only just gotten here “Yeah, that’s how folks here can be. A word of advice? Don’t be afraid to say no, you’re the boss now and everyone wants a piece of you, but they would never go against direct orders, especially if you can get Bo back in shape”

You ask who Bo is “The founder’s guard dog, poor thing’s been wasting away ever since he passed. Don’t be fooled when you see him though, at peak strength he can break through bone, just ask Jean'' Your eyes widen, Berry had mentioned someone in a cast but you just assumed they fell or something, a bit of a silly thought looking back on it but being around that guy was making your fight or flight go off a bit more than usual so you think it’s fair that you weren’t really pondering it before. You ask if this Jean is ok “Oh, yeah, he’s still in the cast but he’s back to doing shoots. Won’t be in the kitchen for a while which has its ups and downs''

You ask how so “Well, up side, I don’t have to deal with him telling me what to do. He’s an alright guy but man is he bossy in the kitchen. The downside is now Berry’s coming to me to pick up the slack, but up side to the down side, he does keep giving me free froyo” You ask him what flavor is his favorite “Oh, well you can’t get it. It’s a special flavor he saves for employees, says he puts his “secret sauce” into it, whatever that means'' You get an odd feeling from the phrase “Berry’s secret sauce” but choose to brush it off for now

You’re about to ask them another question when the front door rings, it’s only now that you realize you’ve been keeping Rory from actually doing their job, though something tells you they don’t mind. You turn to see who walked in only to be met with possibly the largest chest you’ve ever seen, you hear a chuckle and look up to see its source. They’re big, like, Joseph big, how many hulks does this town have? You stutter out an apology and step to the side, telling them you weren’t ordering anything

“Oh, you’re fine, I completely understand. It’s hard not to get roped into conversation with Rory” The way they say Rory sends a shiver down your spine, you can only imagine what it does to them. Well, no, you can see the puddle Rory’s melted into clear as day. Where a confident slightly sassy guy once stood is now a blushing mess. Rory takes a strand of hair between their fingers and starts to twirl it “Hi” You don’t think you’ve ever heard a word filled with more puppy love in your life

The large person leans over the counter and gives Rory a quick kiss, melting the last little bit of composure they had “I’m going to go visit Jean, he just got back from getting his cast readjusted and I thought I’d get him some coffee cake. Wanna come? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you” Rory opens their mouth to respond before their face falls. They sigh “No, I’m the only one here right now and if I close early again Berry might actually kill me” The stranger presses on, kissing Rory’s cheek “Come on, you know I’d never let anyone hurt you” Rory giggles, the kiss on their cheek tilting their head towards you

You suddenly realize that you’ve just been staring at this couple for some time now and you can feel your face getting hot again. You internally smack yourself for just gawking at these two but Rory doesn’t look offended, if anything they look pleased with themself, maybe even enjoying your voyeurism. No, that’s stupid, they’re probably just laughing at you in their head. Why is everyone in this town so hot?

“Oh, what if you take them with you? Jean’s been talking about seeing them again since forever” The stranger looks over to you, giving you a once over “...Who is that?” Rory giggles again “That’s the founder’s kid” The stranger’s eyes widen “Oh, golly, forgive me your grace, I’ve never seen a description of what you look like” You tell them it’s fine and that you look pretty different from what you did all those years ago anyhow “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Sunny Day Jack, but everyone just calls me Jack” You tell them that it’s nice to meet them and give them your name

Rory reaches down into the display case and puts a few pieces of coffee cake into a bag and hands it to Jack, giving them a kiss on the cheek “As much as I’d love you to stay you shouldn’t keep Jean waiting, you know how fussy he gets. I’ll meet up with you after my shift, ok?” Jack leans down and gives Rory a proper kiss, melting them all over again “Alright, can’t wait sunshine. Your grace, would you like to join me?” You nod, unsure of what else to do with your time, and a bit curious about this Jean guy. You swear you remember that name but you can’t quite put a face to it. Jack holds the door for you and you two start to walk to Jean’s house “So, what’s your favorite color?”

No clue as to why but this part was such a little bitch to write. I don’t know, maybe I’ve just been looking at it too long but it doesn’t feel right? At this point I just need to move on from it so I can work on the next part, maybe I’ll rewrite it at some point if it stays under my skin. Hopefully you liked it more than I did ^^;

JackRory JackRory JackRory!!!!!!!!!! God Rory is so smitten and Jack knows it and god I love it sooooooo much!!!!!!