#if you ever wanna get mad about a recipe ask me about the sweet rolls

[theforumcat]

You said you had home made macaroni! Did you make it yourself? If so, can you share the recipe? Thank you!

oooooooooh. Uhhh.

No? Yes, but no?

A lot of things I know how to make I just Know How To Make. I have a lot of extremely varied cooking heritage (from a dad who loved to cook, to a couple of chef apprenticeships, to devoted study of my family’s sort of folk-hero matriarch) that has resulted in a great deal of foods that I can just… make.

So I know how to make macaroni and cheese, which is actually very easy, but unfortunately the closest thing to a recipe for the macaroni I made the other day would be:

Pasta (it was a kale and spinach spiral, because that’s the pasta I use for everything) - about 3/4 box

Milk (I used goat milk because I tend to use goat milk, but any milk is fine. Thicker is better, so ideally cream or super creamy non dairy. Buttermilk is also yummy) - how much? Idk. The right amount. I think a cup?

Buttermilk powder - a tablespoon. Ish. I just use a regular spoon and eyeball it. It goes in a lidded cup with the milk (I use a jam jar)

Flour - like two tablespoons. Also goes into the milk

Flour - like two tablespoons. Does NOT go in the milk

Butter - probably half a stick but I really wasn’t paying that much attention

Pasta water - one cup, set off the the side. This is like the only thing I used a measuring cup for, and of course it’s just as a reservoir container for something used as needed

Lemon juice - a whole lemon’s worth. I left the pulp in; it wasn’t hurting anyone.

Garlic - a whole head, crushed

White onion - somewhere between a quarter and half cup, minced. Probably closer to half. Big handful.

Cayenne pepper - a little sprinkle

Chicken bouillon concentrate - a bit

Cheese - two cups ish of extra sharp white cheddar, grated

1. Butter in pan. Hot. Melting.

2. Garlic, onion, stock concentrate. Let the onion kinda disappear and the onion and garlic start to smell good. Splash in some lemon juice but not all

3. Put flour over it and whisk in. Let this brown up and brown up and brown up, and do not let it stop moving at any point ever (okay, it’s not actually that fussy, but until you get the hang of making roux start with those instructions)

4. once you have decided that letting it brown up any more is going to scorch, add the rest of the lemon juice and turn the heat down

5. Shake the milk and company container vigorously for a while. If you think you have finished, shake it that much again. Do not accidentally churn the milk into butter, but do get it really good and mixed and frothy

6. Add some cheese to the pan and let it start getting melty, whisking into the butter and lemon

7. Add the milk jar

8. Get it hot enough to maybe simmer but not boil and keep adding cheese a bit at a time until you’re out of cheese. If the sauce gets too thick (flour-gloopy or cheese-stringy) add splashes of pasta water to smooth it back out

9. Cayenne pepper to taste

10. Mix in pasta

I tried to make this as helpful as possible, but I do a lot of cooking wherein “cup” means literally just whatever cup was at the front of the cupboard, or sometimes a really full handful, or just however much I decided to put in and call a cup. A lot of my steps are just “cook it” or “make sauce” or whatever, and while this is a little more specific, because it’s in particular the white cheddar and lemon macaroni variant I made the other day and quite a simple thing, anything with a bigger list of ingredients will vary wildly on what’s actually in there (what’s in Cheeseburger soup? Cheese, beef, tomato paste, vegetables. what vegetables? Vegetables!) or anything that isn’t a specific variant (like if I just gave you a “Mac n cheese recipe”) will often include illuminating entries such as “spices.” Somewhere I have a recipe card that just lists “the spices,” and you just have to know/intuit/decide/guess what that means. There are also a lot of things measured in “assloads,” “some,” and “splooshes” and “splashes” (and the precise amount that qualifies as some or an assload, of course, varies by ingredient). Sometimes I’ll also work in helpful measurements like “bowl full” and it will be several different bowls.

Anyway, I am a disaster cook but the things I make are very good. I’ve got that sweet, sweet ancestral guidance and blessing~

[ashdreams2023]

Hi I hope you are well! Considering I’ve just been through a breakup I was wondering if you could do a oneshot of reader who is going through a breakup and the whole team is there for her especially Nat and Wanda who hold her when she cries 🥲 and to incorporate Loki maybe he could be like witnessing all this as he has a crush on her?? It’s okay if not 🫶🏻 just needing some comfort lol

Honey I’m so sorry, I hope this helps, it’s not exactly exactly what you asked for but it’s comforting 🤍

Breakup

It was probably the hardest thing you ever went through, it was just so sudden and now you felt so hurt and empty.

The news came like a flash to everyone as well, it was just going so well and-

"I bought us tickets to that movie you’ve been talking about!" You got startled by Natasha, you wiped your tears with the sleeve of your shirt.

"But…they’re all sold out!?"

"Honey, there is benefits to be friends with a million" Natasha rubbed your shoulder comfortingly and hugged you tightly, it felt nice, Natasha always knew what to do.

"I’ve finally perfected that muffin recipe, wanna be the first to try!?" Wanda yelled from the kitchen, she’s been obsessing with some vintage cooking book she found in a yard sale somewhere and you’ve been somewhat of a lab rat for her tries.

You didn’t hate it though, sugar made the hurt go, if only temporarily.

Everyone had been very nice lately, since they knew about your situation at least, Steve wanting to introduce you to some classic 50s jams and tony let you stay late with him while he works.

Bruce was sweet enough to bring you a coffee when he notice you dozing out again.

But the girls did a great job of keeping you distracted and entertained until your feeling summer down to a bearable temperature.

"How amusing, Midgardians are odd creatures" then there was Loki, you didn’t know what to make out of Loki to be completely honest with yourself.

"Why is that?" You asked.

He stands up and walks up to you, he smirks that devilish smirk of his and lifts your head up "They are blind and take things for granted, and your ex just wasted the best thing they might’ve ever had" you blinked slowly, registering what he just said.

"But any who you’re also an airhead"

You frowned and huffed "Excuse me??!"

Loki bit the inside of his cheek and leaned against the wall "You’re hurting your own feelings over a person who looks like they would make children cry out of terror"

You didn’t know how to respond to that.

Although it seemed like your expression was priceless because Loki started laughing, a full on belly laugh, you wanted to be mad or plain pissed off.

But oddly enough you couldn’t, you knew Loki didn’t have ill intentions…not now at least, you sniffed a few times and reached for some tissues but got bumped by the reality that you finished a whole box by yourself.

"Here, your nose is so red…exactly like a dove’s peak"

"What’s that supposed to mean??!" You covered your nose feeling suddenly self conscious.

He chuckled and pulls out of thin air then hands it to you "Don’t get me wrong, I do love your expression but due please remember that I won’t be making fun of you when you’re in such a vulnerable state of mind"

You stared at him then at the extended napkin, for the first time in days you felt like crying for another reason than your ex.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you stood up and took the napkin, you sniffed and nodded your head, words failed to escape your lips but he understood.

He warped an arm around you and pulled you close to his chest, he smelled nice and felt warm.

And you cried while holding that napkin, you cried because people cared for you, because he cared for you.

"Shh…little doves shouldn’t hurt themselves over wasted and ugly pigeons"

"But pigeons are cute"

"Get with crow, they are intelligent and talk back…also bring you shiny things" he smirked but you snorted.

"So basically you?" You jokingly said, although when you looked up he had this glint in his eyes and made your heart skip a beat.

"Oh…um" you pulled away feeling your cheeks warm up and turned to your female friends who were watching with mild amazement.

You cleared your throat and pulled Natasha by the sleeve "come on I want to taste Wanda’s new recipe" Natasha rolled her eyes at your little escape attempt and went with it.

Before you left the room you turned your head around and glanced at him, his green eyes watched you intensely.

Your lips moved but sound came out but you smiled.

He smiled back.

"Are we going little dove?"

"Don’t start nat!"

[3rensgf]

I don’t know if you want to do this Drabble request, but feel free to skip this request if you feel that it’s too hard or if it’s a no-go. Can I request a modern/fantasy AU Drabble of Merman!Eren and Fem!Wizard!Reader where Y/N is practicing magic on the beach where she encounters/falls in love with Eren who was watching her from the water? (The rest of the plot is u to your imagination) Thank you!

by the sea eren yeager x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: fluff, merman!eren is really pretty, eren can't say magic either

notes: awe this is such a cute prompt! i don't think i've ever thought abt merman!eren until now hmm... i like the picture in my head. i ended up getting a little carried away and this drabble turned into a ficlet lol. thank you for requesting!

With the expectations of becoming a full fledged wizard in a few months looming over you, it was safe to say you were incredibly stressed. Potions, spells and other knowledge dominated in your head. One of your friends had told you that you were muttering spells and potion recipes in your sleep. It only further proved how hard you were studying.

But even the most model wizard students got stressed. As did you. So, you would sneak away during breaks or free time while no one noticed to go to your special spot.

You had accidentally stumbled upon this area during flying lessons. No matter how much people gushed about it, flying wasn’t all that. It was just like walking, only a couple hundred feet in the air. Out of boredom, you looked down, eyes widening at the sight. Below you was one of the most beautiful beaches you had ever seen, secluded at the barrier of the forest, just enough to not be noticeable if you were walking on foot.

Suddenly, you began to love flying lessons.

Where grass met sand sat your discarded robe and boots, not wanting them to be soiled by the sea water. Your pants and sleeves had been rolled up at your convenience as well. There was a giant boulder between the land and sea you liked to stand up on to practice your magic. It was just big enough to have a view of the entire beach.

You had your hands out in front of you, whispering a spell to make magic, getting frustrated when no results were shown from your efforts. It was one of the newer spells you were learning that gave you trouble, your mentor believing you were finally ready to learn it. Huffing, your hands smacked your thighs when you roughly pulled them down. They clenched and unclenched in anger, eventually moving to cover your face so you could scream.

“Is it really that hard?” a sweet voice spoke up from under you.

The sudden appearance of the voice had caught you so off guard, that you jumped in surprise, stumbling into the water eventually. Right away, a pair of arms that didn’t belong to you slipped around your waist to drag you back to shore. You coughed and sputtered out the salt water in your lungs smacking your chest to help displace the water.

You turned your head to take a look at your savior, a scream dying in your throat at the sight of a Merman in front of you. Using your hands, you scurried away in shock to put some distance between the two of you.

There was no denying it; there was a Merman in front of you. He even fit the description, for Merlin's sake! Long, elegant tail with shiny green scales that glimmered in the sun, tanned skin free from any imperfections, long brown hair that reached his shoulders, emerald green eyes you could get lost in, and the most beautiful face you had ever seen in your life.

“Wait!” the Merman had called out, holding an arm towards you to stop you. He couldn’t do much considering he had no legs. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

You gave him the benefit of the doubt and stayed put where you were, not moving another inch yet. “What do you want from me?” you whimpered.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head to further convince you. “It’s just that… I’ve been watching you do your sparkly hand things for a while now. I think it’s really pretty,” he confessed shyly.

“‘Sparkly hand things’...?” you asked yourself, feeling confused. It clicked suddenly, “You mean my magic?” To demonstrate, you cast an easy visual spell, lights appearing out of thin air to make intricate designs in the air.

The Merman nodded enthusiastically, dragging himself closer to you to get a better look at the lights coming out of your hands. You didn’t make any move to put more distance between the two of you. “Yes! The Majick. Is it hard?” he asked, repeating his question from before.

You scratched the back of your head, shrugging lightly. “It depends on how hard the spell you’re casting is. The lights I did were pretty easy, but something like healing takes a bit more skill.”

He stared at you in awe, mouth agape. “Can you teach me?” he asked excitedly, leaning in closer to you.

You giggled at his enthusiasm and shook your head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t teach you. Only wizards gifted with the ability to do magic can cast spells…” you trailed off, realizing you didn’t get his name. “Hey, what’s your name?”

The Merman was a little dejected at first at not being able to do magic, but perked up to tell you his name. “Eren! What’s yours?” You gave him your name, to which he repeated to himself a few times to test it out on his tongue. “You have a very pretty name.”

Your cheeks grew warm due to an oncoming blush. “Thank you. You have a pretty name too.”

Both of you talked for a while after that, chatting away until the sun was just kissing the horizon. You finally noticed how late it has gotten when the golden hour sun made Erens skin glow. “Oh! I have to get going, otherwise the elders will be mad at me for going missing for so long!” you gasped, standing up to dust off the sand from your now dry clothes.

Eren stared at you longingly, watching you get redressed. “Will you be back? I know you come by sometimes, so I wait for a while at a rock by the shore for you to come. Just wanna know when I’ll see you again.”

You paused in the middle of clasping your boots, staring at him. “Oh. Well I have time 2 days from now to come by. How about then? Same time as today?”

Eren nodded enthusiastically, moving himself back to the water. “Yes! Okay! I’ll be here to watch you do more of the Majick!” he said, engulfing himself in the water. He gave you an enthusiastic wave, which you returned, diving back into the water to go back to his own home.

You watched where he had disappeared, water still rippling from his movements. You grinned and set off to rush back home, eager to see your new friend again in a few days time.

taglist - @liaxxx109 , @prxttyguardian , @jeansbabycake

3rensgf © 2021 ; do not repost or translate my work.

[suchalonelysunflower]

If it means a lot to you (a.i)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin X Reader 

Summary: Songfic based on the song “If it means a lot to you” by A Day to Remember. You haven’t heard from Ashton in weeks, could you endure all the pain while he’s on tour or it would become too much?

Warnings: ANGST, strong language, overthinking and anxiety. Also some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry) 

Word Count: 2.6 K 

Author’s Note: I was feeling so angsty today and this was the product of me pouring out my feelings into a fic. Reblogs, coments and feedback are always welcome and apreciated! I would love to hear your thoughts 💙  Hope you like it and Happy reading🦋

My Materialist

It felt good to be on the stage again. It felt more than good, actually. The sound of screaming fans, calling out your names in pure ecstasy as one by one the songs pass and reverberates throughout the whole stadium, or arena or a simple, yet packed, venue. The adrenaline that cursed through the veins of each one of them as they gave their all, feeling how the base makes the entire stage shake with rhythms they know by memory and would never get tired off. It felt good to be on the stage again, to be on tour again. But not everyone gets to have everything they want. 

You were sitting on your sofa, getting lost in thought as the TV played some old episodes of your favorite show as background noise of your own pity party. It’s been two months since Ashton went away on tour with his band again, and even though you knew this made him happy, you always hated when he had to leave. 

The feeling of loneliness crept in two weeks and a half ago, when he started to miss your calls and texted you only once a day. You knew he was busy, you knew he must be tired, but so are you. 

You understand that this is his job, you’ve been through this before, but the separation was never easy. You always worried about his safety, how he’s dealing with stuff and if he ever misses you or if he had someone else he’d rather be with while you were away and tucked under your shared sheets in LA. He always came through though, pushing those thoughts away by reassuring his love, either by facetime or a simple call. But you haven’t seen him or heard of him in so long that you couldn’t help but drown yourself in a pity parade for one. You miss him, you need him. And it’s still so long until you could see each other again. 

A notification on your phone pulls you away for a while, it takes a few moments before you realize that it was in fact your phone and not a trick of your mind. You jump right to it, thinking, hoping that it would be Ashton trying to call you or even a simple text. The beating of your heart ran like a horse before you could even register that it was just a notification from instagram, you just saw his name and quickly swiped to open it. 

@ ashtonirwin: Thank you for singing with us xx 

The post was simple, you could see the crowd going wild as Andy took a photo of the boys in their element. Ashton was smiling behind his drum kit, taking in the scenery of a thousand screaming fans that were there just to see them, to sing with them. And it hurt you. 

It hurts not being there. Not being the one that was at the other end of the smile, and oh, how you miss that smile.

You opened the camera roll, forgetting to put a like on the post as your mind decided to add some salt to the wound. You scrolled a few pictures down until you found what you were looking for: A video of Ashton. 

His smile was clear even before you pressed play. You remember the day he sent that to you, it was at the beginning of the tour and you were feeling a little needy, so he decided to send you this while you were asleep. He knew it would make you feel better once you woke up. And it did. 

It was a simple video of him just talking to the camera, but it always made you feel better and you hope this time it will as you pressed play. 

“Hey, darling” Ashton said with a smile so wide you could see every dimple and wrinkle on his face “I hope you’re good tonight, I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving… It’s not easy for me either, being away from you and being unable to kiss you and cuddle you like we do. I miss you, dear” 

The sadness in his voice moved you and you wished you were there with him, doing your best to push that sadness away. “Tour’s going great so far, I really wish you were here to see it. But you will be, one day and it will be awesome. But I can’t come back home till they’re singing, and oh, how amazing it is to hear them sing back at us, it’s almost as beautiful as to hear you sing to me one of our songs, even if it’s to mock our oldest songs” His smile lit up the screen ashe giggled “Just wait till I get home, baby. It won’t be long now, I swear. I love you”

“I love you” You whispered to the face on the screen as the video stopped. 

The tears were rolling down your face and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. The video always helped to make you feel better but, somehow, it just made missing him worse. 

It wasn’t enough, you needed him. You needed him and he was MIA, the only news you get from him are from social media and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same. 

Ashton was laying in his bunk bed, smiling as he scrolled down twitter to read the reactions to tonight’s concert. It was one of their best and he was very proud of the energy they put on stage for the world to see.

He always enjoyed tour life, visiting new cities and countries every night, giving his all in all the concerts and spending time with his best friends. It was all he ever wanted since he was a kid and now he was able to experience it. 

“Hey, Ash!” Luke called his attention from the bunk across the small hall “Could you tell Y/N that Sierra wants to talk? She said it was something about a recipe but it seems like she can’t get in touch with them” 

Ashton frowned, you were never the one to shy away from their friends, always being the most social one of the two of them “Uh, yeah. Sure man” 

“Thanks, and tell Y/N we are missing them, it’s been too long since we saw each other” 

‘It has been a long time’ Ashton thought, or at least it seemed like it because he was sure he sent a text earlier today and…

Ashton’s expression froze when he saw that he didn’t text you today, or yesterday or the day before that. He didn’t even respond to your last text.

Y/N: Tell me something sweet to get me by.  

How long ago was that? Why didn’t he notice before? 

A feeling of guilt ran through him, feeling disgusted at himself for forgetting about you, the most important thing in his life. How could he? You must’ve been feeling low that day to text him something like that, he knew how much you hated when he had to leave. You didn’t text him after that, maybe you were okay now, but he still needed to talk to you, to apologize. 

He sighed when he saw what time it was, now it wasn’t time for a facetime call, knowing that you were probably asleep by now. He would apologize to you in the morning. 

Little did he know that you were still awake, sobbing and calling out his name through your cries. 

*

You woke up when the sunlight hit your face. You furrowed your eyebrows at your surroundings, realizing that you fell asleep on the couch. Luckily it was a Saturday, so you had no other responsibilities other than crying yourself to sleep for maybe the tenth time in a row? 

You knew it wasn’t fair, for you or for him, to be enduring this kind of pain. But if you meant a lot to him, why hasn’t he responded? or calling to check up on you? This place felt lonelier by the minute, his mugs were in the cupboard, some of his clothes were in the closet, his music room remains untouched and yet it seemed like he was never here at all to begin with, just a ghost of his memory floating around to remind you of what you were missing. 

You felt the tears about to crash down again, but you had no energy left in your body to cry. You were exhausted, needy, lonely and down right miserable while the love of your life was living his best life without you in it. 

Ashton was living his best life, but he still felt something was missing. He sat down on the couch the venue offered, it wasn’t as comfortable as he would expect but it didn’t matter. He knew he had to talk to you. 

He has been a shitty boyfriend lately, he understood and hated that. You didn’t deserve to be pushed aside like he did and he felt awful. So, with his heart in his sleeve, hoping you’ll forgive him and that you were okay, he picked up the phone and called. 

Ashton heard the beeping tone three times before you decided to answer “...Hey, sweety” You said with a sigh. 

Ashton could tell you were sad, a punch in the guts hurt less than hearing your voice so small and defeated. “Hey, darling,” He said,making his tone a little bit more uplifting, thinking it might help “How are you? Sierra said that you weren’t answering your phone, is everything okay?” 

Hearing his voice, his cheerful tone as if nothing has happened or as if this wasn’t the first time in weeks that you’ve heard of him, hurt more than you could ever expect. You felt silent tears rolling down your face as you contemplated what to say about that. 

“I just-”

“Ash, we need you for soundcheck” A voice said on the other line.

Ashton raised his hand, annoyed at the interruption, asking the boys to wait a second. He needed to hear from you first. All three of the guys backed up immediately when they saw the serious expression on the drummer’s face. 

“Sorry, love. I think the boys need me” He said, hoping you wouldn’t get mad. 

“But, what about me?” You asked before you realized what was coming out of your mouth.

“What?” Ashton said with a concerning tone. 

“I need you here, Ashton” You cried, unable to keep the tears at bay anymore “I need you here tonight, and I know that you don’t wanna be leaving and I get it, I swear I totally get it and I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, it’s okay that you want this” 

Hearing you cry through the phone broke Ashton’s heart. He did this, he caused this. How could he neglect you like that? 

“I want it but I don’t need it” He quickly reassured you. 

“Yes, you want it. But I can’t help it, I-” Your voice shook “I just feel complete when you’re by my side. I know I can be needy sometimes and believe me, I hate that as much as you do, probably. But, Ash, I haven’t heard from you in weeks! Yes, a morning text now and then but sweety, I don’t think you understand how bad this hurts”

Ashton felt the tears burning in his eyes, your broken voice sounded like an echo in his head, making him wish he could go back and fix his mistakes, to take all your pain away.

“Do you know how hard it is to be in this house alone, not knowing if you are okay or if you miss me? I found myself walking around aimlessly, trying to hold on to the memory of you here, to even a hint that I wasn’t dreaming when I held you close because it’s been so long and I don’t think I can take it anymore. Knowing that you can’t come home till they’re singing, till everyone is singing back at you” 

“B-baby-” Ashton said, not caring that he sounded desperate, because he was. He didn’t like where this conversation was going “Baby, I know I fucked up, big time. But don’t you ever doubt that you are the most important thing to me, I swear. Darling, if you-” He said, swallowing the lump in his throat “If you can wait till I get home, I swear that when tomorrow comes this will all be in our past” 

You stared blankly ahead as you heard him say those things. It broke you to your core, but you knew what you had to do. It was the best for both of you. 

“Ash, you know you can’t give me what I need. Not right now and I can’t ask that from you, I would never ask that from you and you know it. Even though you mean so much to me, I need you to be happy, I need to be happy and maybe we thought that we could find happiness together but Ash, this ain’t it”

“Darling, wait-” 

“I love you, but I can’t wait through everything. I can’t keep crying myself to sleep every night wishing for a text, a call, a sign that you are okay. And I can’t ask you to give up your life just to be with me, we both know it’s not going to work and we’ll be miserable-”

“Is this really happening?” Ashton interrupted you. 

He was pacing back and forth in the little room, tears falling freely as he understood the words you were trying to say. You were leaving him. You were leaving him and he couldn't blame you. He knew it was too much to ask but he hoped… if he had tried hard enough, if he hadn’t neglected you the way that he did and invalidating you by not acknowledging your feelings, maybe this wouldn’t be the outcome of his mistakes. 

“I love you,” He pleaded. 

“Ash…”

“No, Y/N!” I know, I fucked up but please! Please, darling, don't leave me” He begged “I swear I’ll never be happy again, not even if we stay friends so don’t even dare to say that. Y/N. I love you. I love you, darling. You are the love of my life and -” He choked, overwhelmed with grief of what he just lost.

“Ash, please don’t make it harder” You cried, silently as your heart broke in a thousand pieces “We knew it’d happen eventually”

“No we fucking didn’t! I didn’t! I want you in my life, Y/N. And I know I sucked at letting you see that but- I swear, if you can wait till I get home, I swear we can make this last, baby. Please” 

You stayed silent, wanting to be able to believe him right now, but knowing this was for the best, even if it hurt, it’s what needed to be done so both of you could be happy. And you want nothing more than for him to be happy and free to do whatever he wants, even if it breaks your heart.

“Goodbye, Ash. I love you” You said, voice breaking at the end “I’ll always love you”

“Y/N, don’t-” He pleaded one last time before you ended the call “FUCK” He yelled, throwing the phone to god knows where. 

He lost you. 

Luke, Calum and Michael came running towards the room when they heard Ashton yell. However, they didn’t expect to find their friend sitting on the floor, sobbing as he started to hyperventilate. 

“Mate, what happened?” Ashton took a big breath.

“I fucked up, Cal” He said with a voice as broken as his heart “I fucked up and I don’t know if I can fix it”

Part 2

[ellewritesathing]

You’re My Problem

Summary: What happens when you take unrequited love, throw in some jealousy, and add a dash of impulsivity? You get a recipe for disaster.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: this was requested by @i-write-things-sometimes-x​ a forever ago. thank you for being so patient and i’m so sorry it took so long for me to write this!! 💕

Stiles’ Stilinski was a dumbass. He was impulsive, he was reckless, and he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Lydia Martin for longer than five minutes. But he was also the one who brought you soup when you were sick, the one who remembered your birthday, and the one you’d been in love with since before you could remember. 

He’d been oblivious to all your attempts of getting him to see you as something other than a friend pretty much for as long as you’d known him. Erica thought it was hilarious, and she never let you live down the mouth-to-mouth debacle after he’d almost drowned with the kanima venom. She’d been nicer about it, though, since Lydia and Stiles had their own moment of panic-induced lip-locking. 

But it wasn’t just Erica that changed - everything was different after their kiss. As dramatic as your reaction seemed when you looked back on it, something inside you snapped that day, and all of your pent-up rage from being powerless in a town of supernaturals bubbled to the surface. You convinced Derek to turn you, and things between you, Stiles, and Scott had never been the same. 

“And here I thought you came to lacrosse practice for me.” Isaac set down his gear with a grin and grabbed your water bottle. The light caught on his eyelashes as he drank, painting delicate ribbons down his cheeks as long as his chin was tilted up to the sky.

Erica didn’t care about how pretty Isaac could be, because she didn’t find him nearly as pretty as the lacrosse players packing up on the field. She rolled her eyes and pushed Isaac to the side, not bothering to adjust her strength in the process. “Move over, lover boy. You’re blocking my view.” 

Armed with an evil grin and the knowledge that Erica couldn’t do anything to him in front of all these people, Isaac moved directly in front of her and tilted his head. “Didn’t Derek tell you to be nicer to people?” 

“Derek also told me not to smother you in your sleep, so-” Erica reached forward, hand extended almost as gently as to move one of his curls out of his face, and shoved him to the ground “-you better watch out.” She drummed her fingers on the bleachers with an evil smile of her own before jumping up to follow one of the lacrosse boys off the field. 

Laughing off Erica’s dramatics and shaking your head, you got up and held a hand out to help Isaac to his feet. “Come on.” You waved your fingers when he didn’t reach out. “You stink and the sooner you shower, the sooner I get lunch.” 

“Yeah?” Isaac reached up for your hand and leaned on his other elbow for support. “That kinda sucks for you.” 

It was your own fault for not noticing the glint of mischief in his eye before he wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to the ground next to him. Soon enough, the two of you were rolling around the field (you trying to get up and him ruining every attempt) and laughing just like you always did. Your hands were barely intertwined, but it was still enough to feel his pulse racing. 

“Are you two done? Because Coach is gonna turn on the sprinklers in like five minutes.” 

Your heartbeat shot up at the sound of Stiles’ voice. Clumsily, you untangled yourself from Isaac and sat up. It didn’t matter whether you were human or superhuman, facing a cute boy or the monster of the week, nothing made you more nervous than Stiles Stilinski. “Yeah, we were just- uh, just leaving to grab some lunch. You wanna come with?” 

“Thanks, but I kinda lost my appetite.” Stiles waited an awkward moment and then shrugged, rolled his lacrosse stick over in his hand, and started walking away. The faded number 24 bobbed up and down as he walked away from you, like a boat treading very uncertain waters.

You let out a deep breath and hid your head in your hands. It didn’t matter what you did, conversations with Stiles always ended awkwardly or with one of you leaving. At least this way, you couldn’t see the embarrassing aftermath.

“Oh, come on-” Isaac knocked your knee with his, letting out a laugh. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes before you turned to face him. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

“He hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you.” 

“Ever since I turned, it’s like he can’t even bear to look at me.” 

“And you are so hard to look at,” Isaac said with a grin. He rolled his eyes again and let out a low laugh. If he was going to say anything else about your massively mortifying crush on Stiles Stilinski, he didn’t get the chance. The sprinklers switched on.

---

You were a real pain in the ass. You were annoyingly right about everything, you always had to get your own way, and you could barely focus on anything that wasn’t Isaac Lahey for longer than five minutes. But you were also the one that watched Star Wars with him when he couldn’t sleep, the one that saved him a seat in English, and the one Stiles had been in love with since before he could remember. 

Even after the world went to hell in a handbasket, Stiles thought he might have had a shot with you. All he had to do was find the right time to talk to you - and it seemed like the perfect time after you saved him from drowning - but he waited too long. Somehow something always came around to ruin his perfect moment. Eventually, you turned and traded him in for the one and only Isaac ‘Pretentious Asshole’ Lahey.

In the understatement of the century, Scott said, “Dude, you should just talk to her,” in that aggravatingly optimistic way of his. 

“Yeah? I should just talk to her, and tell her that I love her, and then maybe we’ll just walk off into the sunset like a Julia Roberts movie?” Stiles was robbed of the satisfaction of his snark by Scott’s dumbstruck face. “Oh my god, what is it now? What’s with the face?” 

Scott scrunched up his face and pulled on the straps of his backpack. He rocked on his heels defensively. “I don’t have a face.”

“You totally have a face, okay?” Stiles waved his hand in front of Scott’s face. “This right here is the face you make when it’s tater tot day.”

Scott shrugged and tried to play it cool. “It’s nothing, just-” He took a deep breath, leaned in, and said, “You just said that you love her. That’s all.” With another trademark Scott McCall shrug and smile, he started walking off to make his English class before the second bell.

“Well…” Stiles said to an empty hallway. He let out a heavy sigh and slammed his locker. “Shit.” 

---

You’d spent your entire life pining over Stiles Stilinski. All those years wasted on a guy who didn’t have feelings for you, when there was a perfectly sweet distraction right next to him. Sure, maybe Isaac didn’t know your favorite movie candy and he didn’t always know the right thing to say when you were having a bad day, but he snuck you out of detention and he didn’t make you so tongue-tied that you couldn’t speak in complete sentences. 

Isaac was fun. He made you feel witty. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was fun.

This night was the closest to perfect you’d had in a long time: Lydia’s epic homecoming party. There were copious amounts of alcohol and scarce supervision, you and Isaac were dancing, and the full moon wasn’t for another week. It was as perfect as you were ever going to get … and yet you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Stiles. 

Outright staring at him would have been preferable, but he had been glowering at you ever since Isaac, Erica, and Boyd showed up. If you didn’t want to see the look of annoyance that was almost permanently on his face when it came to you, then stealing glances would have to be enough. 

It was a shame, though, because there was something so magnetic about him tonight. Maybe it was the effortlessness that made him attractive. He was slightly overdue for a haircut, so he was dragging a hand through it every other minute in that nervous way of his. Even though his plaid was one of the too big ones Noah had bought for Christmas a few years ago, his t-shirt was one from the older collection that he was in the process of outgrowing. Disheveled suited him; he was almost perfect. If the annoyed look on his face would disappear, so would the ‘almost.’

Isaac ducked his head down to speak to you over the blare of the music, lip grazing your ear as he spoke. “You’re doing that thing again.” 

“What thing?” you asked, trying to brighten up when you looked up at him. You should have tried harder, but dancing with Isaac and being witty wasn’t a priority when Stiles was so mad at you. 

The corners of Isaac’s mouth curled up and he tilted his head to the side. You knew that Stiles was the thing, even if he didn’t say it while he twirled you out.

Isaac pulled you in slightly too quickly, so you collapsed into him more than anything else. The two of you were still laughing and cracking jokes about super-healing when you caught a glimpse of Stiles angrily swigging what was left of a beer and disappearing into the house. 

For a moment, all the sweaty teens and bright lights faded away. You untangled yourself from Isaac quickly and clumsily before rushing out an “I gotta go” and pushing your way through the crowd. 

It was easier to breathe when you reached the second floor without so many people around. The only problem was that all the air disappeared the moment you were alone with Stiles. It was the first time in months that you’d spent any time alone together, and the fact that he was more than a little tipsy wasn’t making things any easier. 

Still, you followed him into one of the rooms and closed the door. “Hey, Stiles, are you doing okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually, I’m just peachy.” Stiles dropped the necklace he was fiddling with and brushed his nose with his thumb. “Perfect. Nothing to complain about, you know? At least no one’s trying to kill me this week.” 

“Sounds like maybe you should be celebrating,” you said carefully, trying not to spook him as you made your way over. “You know, instead of hanging out up here, going through Lydia’s great aunt’s jewelry.”

Stiles let out a hollow laugh and turned awkwardly to the jewelry box on the dresser. He shrugged and picked up the necklace again. “But it’s so shiny and I’m so awkward,” he whined. 

You took a few steps closer to take the necklace out of his hands before he broke the clasp. “You’re not awkward.” Stiles gave you a sideways look and you laughed. “Okay, maybe you’re a little awkward, but it’s an endearing kind of awkward.” 

Stiles stubbornly refused to give you the necklace without a fight, and the chain was caught in the crossfire. The both of you panicked and scrambled to fix it, but this wasn’t the kind of necklace that two teenagers and a pair of tweezers could fix. 

Stiles gave up struggling over the necklace and let out a heavy sigh, hand curling over one half of the broken chain and the bathroom sink. The necklace had been the only thing keeping the weight of the world off his shoulders - the only thing keeping Stiles tipsy and happy instead of almost drunk and kind of sad. “Just forget it,” he said. His voice was raw. “No amount of trying is gonna fix it.” 

“Don’t say that.” You grabbed Stiles’ half of the chain out of his hand and put it next to the other half on the counter. Willing the chains to fuse back together and decidedly not looking at Stiles, you said, “You can’t just give up like that.” 

“Why not? The necklace is broken and I broke it. I can’t fix it.” 

“You can at least try to fix it.” 

“Maybe it doesn’t wanna be fixed. Maybe it’s happier with the stupid scarf, alright?” 

“Wait, what scarf?” When he didn’t answer, you looked up from the necklace to find him staring guiltily at the floor. “Stiles, please don’t tell me there’s some ruined Hermes scarf up here because Lydia will kill me.” 

Still no answer. 

As gently as you could, you reached out to touch his shoulder. “Stiles-”

“Just forget it!” Stiles snapped, pulling away before you could touch him. He almost crashed into the door in his hurry to get away from you. “Go dance with your scarf, okay? You two deserve one another.” 

Stiles stormed into the bedroom, and you stormed after him. You caught his arm before he even made it halfway across the room. “Okay, man, what the hell is your problem?” 

“My problem?” Stiles echoed. “You wanna know what my problem is?” 

“Yes! You’ve been glaring at me all night, avoiding me for like six months, and- what? Now you’re freaking out over a broken necklace?” You took a step closer to him, pulse racing. “So, what’s your problem?” 

“Okay, you know what? You’re my problem.” Stiles was so close that you didn’t need werewolf superpowers to feel all the emotions coming off him. “We were best friends until you ditched me for Isaac Freaking Lahey, okay? We used to hang out like all the time, and now we barely spend any time together unless someone’s trying to kill us. And you’re impossible to talk to-” 

“I’m impossible to talk to?” you echoed. “Stiles, you cringe every time you see me.” 

“I do not!” he said defensively, scrunching his face slightly. “Okay, maybe I do but that’s because whenever I see you, Isaac’s following you around like a puppy dog.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. The puppy comment was a cheap shot and it wasn’t like Stiles could complain when he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t have feelings for you. “So is your problem actually with me? Because so far all you’ve done is talk about Isaac.” 

“I don’t- it’s both of you, alright?” Stiles let out a shaky breath and looked away. He took a second to run a hand down the side of his face before speaking again. “My problem is that I have feelings for you and you don’t even know I exist anymore.” 

No amount of accelerated werewolf reflexes could have prepared you for that. For a second, you were too surprised to respond. “You … have feelings for me? I thought you were in love with Lydia.” 

Stiles snorted. “Please, she kissed me once and it was terrible for both of us.” He shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to say while you adjusted to the information. “Besides,” he said in a much slower, much quieter voice, “it’s not like she’s you.”

“Isaac hates Star Wars,” you said quietly, staring at the bullseye in the middle of Stiles’ shirt instead of meeting his eyes.

“God, I hate that guy,” Stiles mumbled. He looked around the room awkwardly before landing on the tv in the corner. “You wanna, uh, watch something with me? I really don’t want to go back down there.”

You nodded without giving it any thought, looking up at Stiles and giving him the first real smile you’d had all night. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great!” Stiles gave a short laugh before slowing his breathing and looking at you so seriously that you thought your heart would stop. “Just, uh, one more thing?” he asked, voice quiet and delicate again. You started rambling, but the words fell away as soon as Stiles lifted his hands to either side of your face. The whole world slowed for a moment, coming almost to a complete stand-still when he pressed his lips against yours. “There,” Stiles said softly. “I’ve been thinking about that since freshman year.”

Despite all the anxiety racing through your system, or maybe because of it, you laughed. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening as you reached a hand up to the side of Stiles’ neck. Time slowed again as you leaned up on your toes, kissed him again, and realized that maybe this night was perfect after all. 

[coveredinsweetpea]

me and you [ross butler imagine]

A/n: This is cheesy don't mind me. I finally have time to write again and I'll probably be here A LOT so hmu! Let's talk, tell me what you thought!

Summary: Ross comforts you after you receive online hate due to the age gap in your relationship (requested)

"What're you doing over there?" Ross asked, mindlessly walking through the living room. He didn't get you a chance to answer before he walked into the kitchen, only to pop his head back into the room and call for you again, "Babe?" "Hm?" you mumbled, tilting your head in his direction, even if your eyes never actually left the screen of your laptop. "What are you reading?" he questioned, now leaning against the wall, eyes trained on you. "I wanna cook something" you said softly, your attention divided between your boyfriend and the recipes displayed in front of you. "Why?" Ross laughed. "Stop" you scoffed, amused, "Our cheat day turned into a cheat month, and I'm really in the mood for something home cooked and healthy." Still unconvinced about your motives, he reluctantly accepted to help you choose a dish. Eventually, you settled for some fancy stake with brown rice. About half an hour later you were both in the kitchen, laughing your asses off. It all started with Ross trying to fake an Italian accent as he read the instructions for the sauce, and it ended with him posting three different videos of you two to his Instagram story. In the first one, he wasn't completely prepared, and his shyness came to light. His cheeks bright red and the room filled with his nervous laughter - it was definitely your favorite of the three. In the second one, he had gotten a little bit more in character, and he may or may not have done an adorably sweet impression of The Godfather. "He's Italian, right?" Ross laughed over your shoulder, as you watched the videos on his story.

"Yes, he is, babe" you laughed, leaning your head back, "Or was" "Did he die?" he asked, genuine curiosity visible in his eyes. "Haven't you seen the movie?" "Nope" "Well, then I'm not gonna tell you!" you exclaimed, turning around. You discarded his phone, carefully placing it on the counter. Your hands met behind his neck, your fingers intertwining. Ross looked down at you with a smile that was hard to read, but it warmed you up nonetheless. "Tell me" he begged, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his, "I wanna know" "What kind of an asshole girlfriend would I be if I spoiled one of the best movies ever made for you?" Ross cocked his head to the side, and pursed his lips, "Pretty sure you'd still be the best girlfriend...." "Sweet talking won't get you anywhere, babe" you giggled, pulling yourself up on your tip toes. He met you halfway, leaning down to press his lips to yours. It was really sweet at the beginning, even though he tasted like the garlic he swore he didn't steal from your plate. But you didn't really care. The taste faded away quite rapidly, and soon, you were already clinging to his chest, your body asking for more. His tongue pushed past your lips and you welcomed him with no intention to hold back. Much to your dismay, things didn't go any further. At least not until you feasted on the food you worked so hard to make. This was probably one of the most relaxing nights you've had in ages, and were beyond thankful for it. For the past few months, your schedules had been hectic, but you just enjoyed a night in, and in the morning you were ready to head out for breakfast. You and Ross were supposed to meet your parents at a café nearby. Despite the short distance, you two were again running late. You ended up brushing your teeth at the same time, bumping shoulders and playfully bickering until you were actually too late for your own good. Ross had to physically drag you away from your make up table, "Babe, it's just our parents, they won't care when color your eyelids are" "Oh my god" you laughed, and hurried to apply the last touches of mascara, before he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you to your feet. "Ok! I'm done, I'm done, let's go!" Giggling, your sprinted to the hallway, hurrying to slip your shoes on. "Where the fuck is my wallet!?" you heard Ross's muffled voice echo through the apartment. "Jeans?" "Which ones?" he yelled back. "Jesus-" you laughed, rolling your eyes, "I have mine, leave it" "What if I need my ID?" Ross asked, finally coming back into your line of sight, eyes all mopey and shoulders all slumped. "What are they gonna do?" you taunted, "Assume you're not old enough to have alcohol for breakfast" "Good, point" he shook his head, and started putting his shoes on. To be fair, this was what most of your days were like, and you loved it. There was a specific air of comfort and acceptance between the two of you that you never had with anyone else. The safety he provided and the love he had for you, were the only things you needed to keep going. About 30 minutes later, you and Ross were seated on a small terrace, across from your parents. It was their idea for all of you to go out today, considering the last season of 13 Reasons Why just dropped, and even if was just a croissant and a cup of tea, it called for celebration. "I've only ever been once to the set" his mother shook her head, sipping on her smoothie, "And I feel like I'm gonna miss everything about it" "I know what you mean!" you smiled, "I've gotten the chance to meet most of the cast and they're all such amazing people!" "They love you, you know?" Ross grinned, elbowing you in the side. "Oh god" you giggled, feeling your cheeks catch a new shade of pink. "It's true" he shook his head, looking at everyone around the table in turn. A devilish smirk popped up on his lips, "Apparently we're perfect together, or something?" Everyone at the table ended up shaking their heads and chuckling at Ross's attempt to make a joke, and it only warmed your heart. Unconsciously, you leaned into him, and cuddled against his side, ignoring the looks yours and his mother gave you as he turned and kissed the top of your head. "We get it" your dad playfully scoffed, "You're young and happy and all that crap. But where are my grandkids?" Although he didn't really have a very exquisite sense of humor, you all laughed, some out of amusement, some out of nervousness. You're sure the parents didn't take it seriously, but the thought of a little Ross running around your apartment brought a ridiculous smile to your lips. The breakfast date didn't last much longer after that. About 30 minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of your car, as Ross drove the two of you home. Out of habit, you pulled out your phone, your thumb mindlessly tapping the Instagram icon. That was when you saw the amount of tags and mentions you had. Thousands of them. Your stomach filled with dread in an instant. This was never good. And even so, you still always checked what people had to say. You were not a celebrity, having people talk about you still made your skin crawl. When the comments were good, you'd just get a rush of anxiety that you started to manage better and better over the last few months, but when the comments are bad, it feels like your lungs are on the edge of collapse. And that was the case now. You only got a chance to read a few comments, all of them, without exception, picking at the age gap between the two of you. Your eyes watered instantly, forcing you to lock your phone and turn your head towards the window. "Hey, baby girl" Ross called lovingly, placing his hand of your thigh, "You good?" You just nodded. "Tell me, love" he pushed, squeezing your leg, "Come on" "I'm fine" "Obviously you're not, angel" "I'm good" you repeated yourself, and forced a fake smile. You did your best but it wasn't enough to fool him. However, he did drop the topic. The rest of the car ride was spent in perfect silence. But once you got inside, you felt him eager to pick the topic back up. So, you did the only thing that you felt was able to help you dodge the situation, and excused yourself, claiming you needed a shower after spending so much time in the sun. It would have been a great lie, but it was 11am on a cloudy July morning, you all had breakfast under a big umbrella that kept you cool in its shadow, and the AC in the car kept the unwanted high temperatures away from you. As you jumped into the shower, you hoped Ross wouldn't look too much into it. As the water poured down your body, you let your mind wonder. It was not a wise choice. If his fans managed to only find flaws about you and bring them forward, you had the upper hand - you knew yourself, and knew all the other flaws you had, the ones they couldn't pick apart. But you could. And that was what you did. For at least an hour, you soaked yourself in hot water, feeding all the negative thoughts that consumed you. When you finally decided to get out of the shower, you were by no means in a better mental state, but you didn't want to let Ross see that. Even though you had some specific opinions about yourself, you felt like opening up about them only made you a victim. So you decided against it. You got dressed up, put on one of your own shirts instead of his', something you never did inside the house, and then walked in the living room. Although you felt like ignoring him, you knew that would only raise suspicions. "What're you up to?" you asked, as you stopped right before you headed into the kitchen. Ross hadn't heard you come in, and only looked up when your voice reached his ears. "I was productive" he grinned, standing up from the couch. "Oh, what did you do?" He laughed, and walked over, "Literally nothing" Quite impossible for you to understand how his little dumb lines like these, could always make you loosen up. Of course, he noticed your faint smile hid a lot, so he leaned down to kiss your forehead and placed his fingers under your chin to get you to look up at him, "I'm not gonna ask what you were mad about earlier, because I know" "Ross-" you tried to excuse yourself, and pull away from his hold, but he was by no means having it. "You know you're my whole fucking world, ok?" he said softly, his breath fanning over your skin, "I'm the only one that gets to decide who's good for me. Falling in love with you is only up to me. Not them, ok?" "I know..." you sighed, your insecurities overwhelming you again. "But?" he nudged you, obviously aware of how much you were holding back. "But what if you're wrong?" "What do you mean, wrong?" Ross questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. "What if you only think I'm good for you? What if they're right, and you just can't see it?" He sighed, obviously deeply hurt by the lack of trust and confidence you showed, "They're not right, I'm 100% sure. But even if they were, I'd have to see for myself, wouldn't I?" "Even if what they're saying is more rational?" you asked, voice all choked up by the lump in  your throat. "I'm not gonna listen to anyone talk shit about the woman I love" he explained, "I really do see myself living the rest of my life by your side, what's a stranger gonna do? Convince me otherwise? Right now, in my life, you come first. Anyone could come and tell me anything they wanted, and still, it wouldn't change the way I feel about you. My opinion on you is based on what I know, on who you are, and you're the only one that could ever change it" His words managed to get to you, and although your knees were weak, you were still not quite there yet. "What if that's what's gonna happen? More time will pass and you'll see I'm not right for you" "That's how relationships work, love" Ross shook his head, "And it certainly does not have anything to do with you being younger than me." Too many things were coming at you at once. He made a good point, but your mind was already drunk on all the possibilities, and on all the things that could go wrong. Accepting that he might actually be right, and acknowledging the fact that in your current state, you couldn't possibly think straight, you hoped he'd understand you when you ask to continue this conversation later in the day. "We can talk about this whenever you want, baby girl" he said, and unlike before, now he sounded defeated. As if he realized he did not manage to et his point across, and that you were still down. If you had your eyes open, you would've probably noticed hurt in his expression when he failed to lift your spirits, but your vision was clouded and all you did was leave the room without a single word. What was hard now, was the fact that deep down, a part of you knew he was right, and that he made a legitimately fair point, and that of all things, breaking up was the last thing you wanted. But you backed out of situation like these before, and all you did in the end was regret your choices. Regret the fact you didn't fight and didn't believe the person next to you, who spent their days proving just how much you mean to them. Exhausted and in need of a break, you opened up your phone to call your best friend. When the screen lit up, your Instagram feed popped up, refreshing as it hasn't been used in hours. Out of habit, you allowed the posts to load, and thank god you did.

Words could not describe the storm of emotions taking place inside your belly. You knew Ross, knew he would never lie, deceive or manipulate, and the fact that he posted that for his 8.5M followers to see, had to mean something. And when you checked the time, you saw that the picture was posted while you were still in the shower, before that little conversation you tow had. As cliché as it sounds, it really did it for you. Him standing up for you in front of his own fans, meant everything in that moment. You only realized you stormed into the living room when you were already slumping down into the couch, grabbing Ross's hand into your own. "Thank you" was all that came out of your mouth, despite the monstrous battle of thoughts that was going on inside your head. "For what, baby?" he asked, voice all soft and loving as he leaned his head to the side. "I saw the post and I wanted to th-" "Don't thank me for that, ok?" he cut you off, his free hand coming up to guide your chin. He searched for you with his stare, and only continued to talk after your eyes met his, "I didn't do it because I thought that was what you wanted. I felt like doing it. I did it for you, because you're my girl, and I hate seeing you down. And I did it for me too, because there is no chance in hell I'm ever allowing anyone to poke into our private business like that" As stray tears roamed down your cheeks, a small giggle came out too, "I feel kinda stupid, you know?" you snorted, "I don't know why I needed to hear you say this to everyone. It should have been enough that you said it to me. I'm sorry" His eyes softened even more as he opened his arms. You crawled over, and rested against his chest. In this position, where we felt the safest in the world, you started to wonder how on earth you even doubted him. "Listen to me-" Ross said sweetly but with an affirming tone. "Fears and insecurities? We're working through them. Together. Whatever it is, I got you. You're my world, Y/n, the love of my life, I really want the best for you. I have a lot to learn, but I really wanna make you the happiest. I am always here for you, and always will be, ok? I really need to know you know that" "You're an angel" you nodded, cuddling deeper into his chest, "I love you" "You're the angel" Ross laughed, playing with your hair, "And no more hiding, ok? It's me and you, that's it" "Me and you"

[certifiedskywalker]

Pasta Sauce - Klaus Hargreeves

You knew when you fell for Klaus that you were in it for the long haul. What you didn’t know was just how terrible of a cook Klaus was. One night, you try to remedy that. 

“Is it supposed to be screaming?”

“What?”

“The water, is it supposed to be screaming?” A sharp streak of panic rushes through you and you darted over to the stove where Klaus stood. His curious and concerned green eyes were focused on the pot of boiling water in front of him. Bubbles popped, splashed up after the steam and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not screaming,” you sigh and turn the knob to lower the heat. “It’s boiling. It’s ready.” “Oh.” You shook your head and nodded your head towards the piece of paper on the countertop. “Hand me that, please.” Klaus handed you the recipe and you busied yourself with rereading the steps. “Once the water comes to a boil, pour in the rigatoni and cook for eight minutes. Stir every so often so the pasta doesn’t stick.” “What the fuck does a rigatoni look like?” Klaus asked. His eyes scoured the counter near the stove with furrowed brows. You bit back a laugh and pointed to the package of pasta that came with the recipe set. “It’s noodles?” “Pasta, yes,” you smiled at him, “did you not see the picture?” You flipped the recipe page over and held it out to him. His confused expression morphed into one of disbelief and he stole the paper from your grasp. “It’s supposed to look like this?!” He points at the picture showing the dish. You had thought signing up for a free trial, delivered-but-make-at-home food service would cut the drama out of cooking with Klaus. So far, it had done the opposite.  “Not exactly like that but…” Klaus squinted his eyes at you, “something like that.” Klaus grumbled something under his breath and you snatched the recipe from his hands. “I don’t understand why we can’t order out…” “Klaus, we talked about it.” He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up on the counter. His long legs swung in the air, his bare feet nearly skirting against the floor. “I know, I know. It’s ‘too expensive’ and ‘not healthy’.” As he spoke, he scrunched his fingers for air-quotations to mock what you had told him. You raised a brow at him and, noticing your cold stare, Klaus let his hands fall to his sides. “It’s so easy though.” You hummed gently as you turned back to the stove and poured the uncooked pasta into the water. “Sounds like you’re just lazy.” “I am,” Klaus said dryly, “you’re just figuring this out now?” You heard his feet slap against the floor as he landed. Your body tensed, waiting for Klaus to tickle you or try to scare you; but what surprised you was his wiry arms wrapping around your waist. “I guess I just had faith you were putting on a show,” you joked. Klaus hummed softly in reply and you could feel the vibrations in his chest against your back. You wanted to turn away from the stove and just melt into Klaus’ warmth. Maybe even order a pizza? No, you had to stay strong and firm. To show yourself you were steadfast, you set a timer for the pasta. “I do like putting on shows for you,” Klaus whispered lowly in your ear. His embrace around your middle tightened and you felt your resolve waver, only until a wicked idea entered your mind. You turned in his arms so that you faced him. There was a mischievous glimmer in Klaus’ green eyes ad you grinned at him. Your hands lifted and cupped his jaw, ready to pull him in for a kiss. “Then why don’t you,” you leaned closer, just so that when you spoke, your lips brushed against Klaus’. “Put on a show for me now?” “Really? Now?” Klaus raised a brow and let his arms around you fall. His hands found your hips and a smile spread along with his features. You nodded in response and Klaus’ smile grew larger as he lifted a hand. “What kind of-” “This one!” You slapped the wooden spoon you had been stirring into his palm before he could reach your face. “Happy stirring!” You slid away from the stove and darted over to the far end of the counter. Klaus was too busy staring at where you had been to look over at you. A laugh slipped past your lips when he finally turned to face you. His smile was gone, replaced by a knowing smirk. “You’ll pay for that,” he teased threateningly. You grinned and shook your head. “No, I won’t. I gave you the easy job.” “Oh yeah?” “Yup,” you gestured towards the counter that was covered in a variety of lingering ingredients. “I have to make the pasta sauce.” You waited for Klaus to speak up, tease you further, but, instead, he went to mindlessly stirring the pot of cooking noodles. For a moment, you thought he was joking. You waited for him to turn and walk off to sulk in your shared room; but he didn’t. With a small sound of shock, you turned to busy yourself with chopping the vegetables. The process went quickly in the quiet. In fact, it was the calmest you had ever seen Klaus; besides when you were bed. Every so often, you heard the tell-tale ‘swish’ of the spoon in the water as you finished chopping. You glance over at him and smiled. If the future looked like this, with the easy quiet and Klaus, would felt you could be happy forever. “How’s it going?” You asked as you brought the vegetables over to the stove. “Slow,” Klaus replied without missing a beat. You smiled as you set a saucepan on the stove and set the flame on underneath it. 

“Have you tested one of the noodles?” Klaus turned his eyes to you with a wary glance.  “You can do that?” “You should,” you explained. You took the wooden spoon from him and fished a pasta spiral out of the pot. “Blow on it before you eat it.” Klaus let out a smug chuckle and you rolled your eyes. “What, it’s what-” “Just eat it, Klaus.” Before he could giggle like a school-girl, you pushed the spoon to his face. He took the bite and cringed. “What is it?” “Is it supposed to be crunchy?” You wanted his jaw tense as he bit down and the sound made you cringe too. “It needs a bit longer then.” You gave him the spoon back with a smile. “Get back to stirring.” Klaus gave you a grimace. “Anything for you,” he teased.

“Thank you, babe.” You played along with a smile as Klaus went back to the pasta. Quiet settled over the two of you once more. After pouring a tablespoon or more in the saucepan, you added the vegetables you chopped. Each cubed tomato and shreds of green onion sizzled in the hot oil. Before you could even begin to stir the base of the sauce, Klaus looked over in the pan with an almost child-like curiosity. “Wanna switch?” “What?” “Switch stirring positions,” Klaus clarified, “do you want to switch?” “Are you asking for a raise?” Your teasing made Klaus grin, but it wasn’t the type of grin you were expecting. There was something in his eyes that set you on edge; like the top of the roller-coaster before the downwards rush. It was thrilling and fun and terrifying all at once. “No, I just want to stir the sauce.” You gave him a questioning quirk of and eyebrow and Klaus sighed. “My face is full of steam. Please?” Klaus stuck out his bottom lip dramatically and widened his sad eyes. Against your better judgment and with a momentary lapse of memory regarding Klaus’ history with pranks, you conceded. “Alright, fine.” You and Klaus shuffled around each other in a small dance. Now you stood in front of the steaming pot of water with cooking pasta and Klaus in front of the start of the sauce. You gave him a careful glance as he pushed the tomatoes and onions around in the saucepan. When you saw that the onion had gone brown, you nudged Klaus with your elbow. “Tomato paste.” “What?” “Add tomato paste and look at the recipe.” Klaus reached for the paper and read it carefully. His brow furrowed and you saw that he was reading the same step over again. “You’re the one that wanted to be in charge of the sauce.” “Yes, I did,” Klaus murmured as he squeezed the tomato paste from the tube. With a ‘plop’, soon followed by a sizzle, the paste spread into the oil and the sauce began to form. You watched as he stirred. “I did.” “You did,” you echoed with a furrowed brow. Once the sauce had melded, Klaus flicked off the stove and let it cool. Yet, he still continued to stir as the heat faded away. You glanced at your own pot of food. You still had a bit until the timer you set went off; the sauce was done sooner than it should have taken.“Klaus what are you-” “I did because I wanted to do this!” Before you could respond or shriek or even flinch, Klaus flicked the spoon in your direction. Warm red-sauce splattered against your clothes and cheek. You screamed in shock and fright, although the sound was drowned out by Klaus’ laughter. “Oh you,” you clamped your jaw shut to keep from saying something you would regret. Klaus, on the other hand, couldn’t have cared less. “I told you!” Klaus choked out between fits of laughter. “You paid for it!” As Klaus got lost in what you imagined was pure joy, you reached your own stirring spoon into the saucepan. When you were content with the amount of tomato mixture you had gathered, you flung it at Klaus. Even when the sauce got in his chocolate curls and splattered across his face, Klaus continued to laugh. “Hey!” You stepped towards him and Klaus wiped at his eyes. His hand brushed against his cheek and swiped away a spot of sauce. “You’re a menace,” you grumbled under your breath. Klaus met your gaze and, with a smile like the one he gave you, you couldn’t stay mad for long. “But I’m your menace,” Klaus leaned in but before he could kiss you, you dragged your index finger along his cheek and gathered up some sauce on your fingertip. You popped the taste in your mouth and hummed. “And my cook, apparently. It’s good sauce.” Klaus smiled and reached his hands up to your face. You could feel his fingers brush through the sauce on your own face as he pulled your lips to his. For a moment, all you tased was tomato, then something sweet. Something you wished you could savor for the rest of your life. “Ya know what else is good?” Klaus asked when he pulled away from your lips. When he spoke, his breath tickled your neck and you couldn’t help but smile. “You cleaning up the mess you made?” Klaus let out a breathy laugh and let his head fall before he brought his gaze up to meet yours. “I think I remember you throwing some sauce too,” he pointed out.    “Ah yes, but you threw the first spoonful.” You tapped Klaus’ nose lightly to tease him. “How about you start cleaning and I’ll salvage what I can of the sauce.” “Fine,” Klaus sighed. He leaned in once more and gave you a kiss. His soft lips melded against yours and you hummed into the touch. Klaus pulled away and you ran your fingers through his messy hair. Droplets of sauce gathered between your fingers and you cringed. “You have sauce in your hair.” Klaus grinned. “So do you.” You grinned back at him. You could live with this; all of it, including the mess, if it meant Klaus would be by your side.

[fanfictionaries]

Giiiiirl, I am CRAVING some baking with Bucky. Like some good old recipe from his mom or sisters, eating half the batter, being all innocent and goofy. Maybe Reader introducing him to the world of cupcakes with a second batch of batter they make. Just a sweeeet baking day ❤️

I made myself happy sad with this one. XD 

Might be a little more angsty than you were looking for, but all the sweet fluff is there as well! 

Inspired by my own great great grandmother’s recipe. 

Orange Rolls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: None, just the fluffiest fluff you can imagine; slight angst. 

Author’s Note: I loved doing this, so please people. Send me more requests! ALSO this is an actual family recipe of mine. I recommend trying it! 

I recommend listening to this song while reading this: https://open.spotify.com/track/7pR7yPgbYcipmTUHT5g68p?si=nQZeCOmoTcm43qOI1YRPNA

***

Step 1. Dissolve 2 yeast cakes in ¼ cup warm water.

The room was alight in the glow of soft warm sun. Nestled in your blankets, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned widely, stretching and turning to snuggle into the familiar warmth of Bucky. Firm muscle, soft skin, ticklish arm hair – all missing. Instead only cool sheets, drawn back on his side of the bed. You didn’t have to check the time to know it was early, but you rolled over to the bedside table to check your phone anyways. Five AM. Much too early to be up on a Sunday morning, even for your early bird of a super soldier. Rolling onto your back, you stayed quiet, attempting to hear any signs of life in the small apartment. Perhaps he’d only gotten up to use the bathroom. The sound of heavy items falling and a string of curses coming from the kitchen brushed away the thought. Jumping out of bed, you pulled one of Bucky’s large sweatshirts over your head and stepped into your slippers.

When you rounded the corner, the first thing you noticed was the expanse of your pantry laid out onto the floor. The second thing you noticed was Bucky, sat cross-legged in the middle of the array of flours, sugars, and spices, head in his hands. You knew this look. This crumpled, defeated look that so few had the privilege to witness. Everyone saw the stoic, cold Winter Soldier. So little saw Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn. Tiptoeing around the spilled bags of sugar, flour, and sprinkles, you stood beside him, leaning over and placing a gentle hand to his back, rubbing soft, slow circles.

“Nightmares?” you asked, moving your hand up to thread through his freshly cropped hair, scraping your fingernails against his scalp. Bucky tilted his head back, leaning into your touch like a cat leaving its scent. You could see the telltale signs; red rimmed eyes, pink tipped nose, raw bitten lips.

“No, no nightmares. I uh…I had a dream about my mom,” Bucky answered, the end of his sentence biting off in a short, harsh laugh. You held your breath. It flattered you that Bucky felt comfortable enough with you to share the gory, ugly details of his past – the things that kept him up at night. The things he thought you couldn’t love him for. But never had he talked about his family. The only memories of his past life you ever heard were the ones Steve brought up, the rowdy stories of two young men up to no good in 40’s Brooklyn. Yet on his own, Bucky remained silent about his life before the war. You never pushed him. It would be cruel of you to press a subject that was most likely too painful for him to think about. Now, the waver in his voice and the tears that welled in his eyes told you that that assumption had been correct.

“I was sittin’ in my old kitchen and uh—” he sniffed, taking a moment to clear his throat “—it was Easter. I know it was Easter ‘cause ma made orange rolls. She only ever made them on Easter. And it—it was the best damn orange roll I’ve ever had. I woke up and I remembered Steve brought over some boxes of my family’s old things, stuff Rebecca left behind I guess, and I found this.”

In his hand he held an aged recipe card, stained from years of use. The yellowed card stock was bent and torn, but the writing still held clear, thick and messy in some places as if it had been traced over multiple times. It was well used. Well loved. At the top, clearly labeled in large looped font, were the words ‘Orange Rolls’.

“I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. I figured I’d try to make them, but I wasn’t much for the kitchen back then, let alone now. And—and you don’t have any yeast cakes. I can’t make them without yeast cakes (Y/N). It’s the first ingredient and I can’t—” The words broke off, catching in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around your legs, clinging to them like a broken child. Rolling off of him in waves, the permeating sadness and longing washed over you, breaking your heart with each hit.

“I don’t think they make yeast cakes anymore Bucky—” you spoke slowly, choosing your words carefully. At the statement, you felt his arms tighten in a panic. You were quick to placate him “—but I have some dry active yeast that I think should work. Why don’t we clean this up and then see what we can do, yea?”

Step 2. Warm 1 cup milk, add ½ cup sugar, 3 Tbsp shortening, 2 tsp salt.

Turns out, a single yeast cake is equal to approximately 4 and ½ tsps of dry active yeast. After this joyous announcement and your internal praise to Google’s ever living library of knowledge, Bucky was up on his feet, standing in front of the stove over a saucepan of milk.

“How do you know when it’s warm?” he asked, looking curiously down at the pan of milk in front of him.

“Stick your finger in it, if it feels warm, then it’s probably warm,” you answered sarcastically, reaching into the depths of your pantry for the Crisco. A rarely used, but very important staple for any kitchen.

“What? I’m not sticking my finger in it,” said Bucky, watching with rapt horror as you walked up beside him and dipped the tip of your pointer finger into the warm, white liquid.

“I think it’s warm enough to put the sugar in. What?” you asked him when you saw the look of exasperation on your boyfriend’s face.

“You put your finger in the milk.”

“And? My hands are clean. You watched me wash them. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of catching cooties. Cause I hate to break it to you but, you probably already have them.” Lifting on your toes, you placed a sweet, soft kiss to his lips. Catching you around the waist before you could drop back down, Bucky kissed you back with slow purpose.

“Is that right?” he asked teasingly, breaking away from your lips ever so slightly.

“Afraid so,” you murmured against the soft, heat of his mouth.

Step 3. Beat in 3 eggs, 2 cups flour, and add dissolved yeast. Let rise for 1 hour.

The wet dough sat on the counter; a kitchen towel draped lightly over it. By this time, the sun had fully crested over the city skyline, pouring blinding light into the small space of your kitchen. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, sipping your coffee as you waited for the dough to rise. Your bare feet sat, propped in Bucky’s lap, the thumb of his metal hand absentmindedly rubbing the arch of your right foot as he spoke animatedly.

“You should have seen her. Becca was so mad; I thought her head was going to spin all the way around!” laughed Bucky, the creases at the corners of his eyes making a warm and welcome appearance as he regaled a story that you had never heard before.

“Well that’s what she got for touching your stuff,” you said, taking Bucky’s side in the long forgotten sibling argument.

“Thank you! See, you get it. I wish I could say the same for my parents. My pa gave me such a lickin’ and then ma sent me off to bed with no dinner. All for putting worms in her bed!”

“Did she get in trouble for letting your pet frog loose?” you asked, enraptured by the story.

“No! Do you know how hard it was to find a frog in Brooklyn?”

“Impossible. I don’t even know how you did it.”

“Well, really it was Steve that found him—”

“Him? Did he have a name?” you interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

Bucky scratched the back of his head, a light pinkness appearing on his cheeks, “He might of…”

“Aaaand?” you pressed, wanting to know the name even more at the prospect of it being embarrassing.

“I don’t know if I wanna’ tell you. I think you’re just gonna laugh.”

“I won’t! I promise!” you exclaimed, drawing an invisible cross over you heart.

Bucky looked at you skeptically, a raised eye trained on you before answering, “Fine. It was Mr. Ribbits.”

You tried your hardest, really you did. But a snort escaped your nose before you could stop it and then Bucky was playfully pushing your legs off of his lap and turning away from you, “See! I knew you’d laugh. You’re such a bad liar!”

“I’m sorry!” You reached for him, still attempting to stifle your giggles as you pulled at Bucky’s arm, turning him back towards you. “Really, I am. I think Mr. Ribbits is a respectable name.”

“Thank you. It is.” His tone was resolute, but it didn’t take a trained eye to spot the small smile working its way onto the corner of his lips. “But no, Becca didn’t get in trouble. In fact, my pa said I was too old to be picking up animals off the street anyways.”

“How old were you?”

“I think I was about ten.”

Step 4. Add 3 cups flour and beat in with spoon. Let raise 1 and ½ hours.

“We have to wait again?!”

“Yea, we have to let the dough rise, otherwise the rolls will be tough and there won’t be enough to roll out,” you explained, placing the towel over the bowl once again and reaching for your empty coffee cups.

“But I thought we just did that,” said Bucky in confusion. You tried not to smile at him, but the cute little scrunch of his eyebrows made you a weak and gooey fool.

“Baking is more of an art in patience than skill. Especially any kind of bread, babe. Don’t worry, once they’re done, they’ll be more than worth the wait,” you reassured him, patting his cheek gently.

“Well…can we make something else while we wait? What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Bucky asked, his innocent tone making him sound like a wide-eyed child.

You smiled, big and happy, and walked over to the recipe box that sat atop the fridge. Taking it down and setting in on the counter in front of you, you dug into the baking section and produced a handful of recipe cards.

“Take your pick soldier.”

Step 5. Roll out dough and spread on icing – 2 cups sugar, 1 orange: rind grated and juiced, 6 Tbsp melted butter. Roll, cut, and place in muffin tin. Cover and let raise 20 mins.

“Stop eating all the batter!” you scolded, whacking the back of Bucky’s hand with a spatula. The impact had no effect, the sneaking man having had the forethought to use his metal hand.

“If I wasn’t supposed to eat it this way, then why is it so delicious?” he argued, sneaking another finger into the chocolate concoction and bringing it to his mouth.

“Because it’s five pounds of sugar and fat,” you laughed, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing the chocolate covered finger to your mouth instead. “Also – how is it gross for me to dip my finger into the milk but you can have these grubby little paws buried deep in my brownie batter?”

The question caught Bucky off guard. Raising his hand up, he wiggled the vibranium fingers in your face, “Metal arm – they’re, uh, sterile.”

You guffawed, absolutely tickled by the lame response, “Sterile. Okay. Well, preheat the oven Mr. Sterile.”

Using the spatula, you scraped the double chocolate chip brownie batter into the greased pan. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head came to rest on your shoulder, watching you scrape the sides of the bowl. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he placed a gentle kiss just below your ear.

“You know, you’re getting pretty mouthy these days. I have half a mind to take you over my knee,” Bucky growled playfully.

Before your brain could connect with what your body was doing, the spatula had already lifted away from the bowl and made contact with the side of his face. The wet splat of batter to skin sounded plainly through the kitchen. Releasing you from his hold, Bucky stepped back, his expression vacant and shell-shocked.  Dropping the spatula back into the bowl, you covered your face with your hands as you tried not to lose it. He looked positively ridiculous. Chocolate covered the left side of his face, dripping down from his brow bone to his chin. You watched as he brought a hand up slowly, touching his face and bringing it back down to examine it. He stared at the chocolate proof on his fingertips for a few moments as you waited with horrific anticipation.  

“Oh, that’s it, doll. You better run.”

The menacing words sent your heart rate soaring. A playful shriek escaped your lungs as you bolted from the kitchen, Bucky on your heel with a growl in the back of his throat.

Step 6. Place in the oven at 375 for 10-15 minutes. Makes around 3 dozen.

The brownies, already baked and cooling on the counter, were long forgotten as Bucky sat in front of the oven. Arms wrapped around his bent legs, he watched as the orange rolls slowly rose in their muffin tins.

“When are they gonna be done?” he asked you, staring into the depths of the oven like a fortune teller stares into their crystal ball. Like if he looked hard enough, he’d find all the answers to the universe.

“About five more minutes.” You sat down beside him, leaning into his side as the two of you watched his long-forgotten memories rise. You were excited to try the rolls. It was a recipe you had never heard of, which was a rare thing. But most importantly you were excited to try a little piece of Bucky’s life. A piece of the man, the boy, that he used to be before life happened. It felt special and intimate.

“What if they’re not as good as I remember?” The words were soft and honest. You could feel the same sadness and apprehension as earlier that morning drift from him to you. Leaning against him firmer, you took his hand into yours. Threading the warm flesh into your own, you continued to stare into the heat of the oven.

“They will be.”

Step 7. Enjoy.

The rolls were a beautiful sight. Small, golden brown swirls in a neat, compact shape. The sugar filling had melted down into the bottom of the pan, creating and thick and chewy caramel layer at the bottom of each one. A delicious detail that Bucky said was supposed to happen, but also made it incredibly difficult to pry them from their tins. Still, with the help of a butter knife and a lot of patience, the two of you were able to get most of them out unscathed. A buttery orange scent swirled through the air, causing your mouth to salivate as they sat atop of the wire cooling rack. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, staring at the rolls in silence – you with a look of anticipation, Bucky with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” you asked, wondering if he still doubted that they would hold up to his dream.

“I’m pretty sure they had frosting.”

While the recipe didn’t call for it, Bucky insisted that they always had a frosting on them. After a few minutes of questioning about what kind of frosting it was, or at least what it looked and tasted like, you came to the conclusion that it was most likely a simple glaze. A few minutes later, you each had a plate in front of you with a single, gooey, glistening orange roll sat pristinely on it.

You were starving. You’d been up for nearly five hours and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. But you didn’t dare dig in until Bucky had his first bite. Reaching out tentatively, he picked up the roll, twisting and turning it, inspecting it with a warry expression. Holding your breath, you watched as he brought the baked good to his lips and took a generous bite. He chewed, and chewed, and chewed – each second leaving you with more consternation than the last. When he finally swallowed, he set the rest of the roll down onto his plate and heaved a heavy sigh. Your heart dropped.

“No good?” you asked, fearing you already knew the answer from the way his shoulders bunched over the counter.

Looking to you, tears once again welling in his eyes, Bucky did something unexpected. He kissed you. A firm, chaste kiss that lasted only a moment but formed butterflies in your stomach before he pulled back.

“They’re even better than I remember.”

The proclamation sent your heart soaring. You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling your own tears of relief and joy begin to well. Blinking them back, you smiled at him, blinded by the dazzling smile you received in turn.

“Well then, let’s eat them all because I am famished,” you replied, picking up your own orange roll and taking a giant bite. The mix of soft, warm bread, zesty orange, chewy caramel, and sweet frosting set your taste buds alight. As you chewed, you envisioned a ten year old Bucky sitting in his mother’s kitchen on Easter morning. Curly brown hair, all teeth and dimples in his Sunday best and as happy as a kid could be. Why?

Because this was the best damn orange roll you’d ever had.

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[winters-blue-children]

Games and Theory (A 10k Evan Buckley disaster fic featuring jealous Eddie, phone sex, a fake relationship, and Albert being a genius)

Eddie's not looking for serious. He just wants casual, easy, and uncomplicated. 

Buck has been in love with his best friend for two years. Does he take his sister's advice and confess his feelings? Nah, Evan Buckley always has to do things the hard way.

At some point, Buck and Albert became pretty good friends. Maybe it’s the shared older siblings mackin’ on each other, or the having horrible parents thing, but it turns out they get along really well. A little too well, as Chimney often likes to complain about. He calls it a Buckley-Han recipe for disaster.

Wanna meet up for pool later tonight?

Can’t. It’s movie night with Eddie and Chris.

The blinking ellipses begin immediately after his last text is sent. Buck rolls his eyes in anticipation. He knows exactly what Albert is going to say.

Have fun with your looover.

Fuck off. He’s not my lover.

But you want him to be ;-)

Buck scowls at his phone before turning the screen off. His loud, frustrated groan echoes throughout his empty apartment. Damn high ceilings. While it’s nice to have someone to complain about being completely head over heels for his best friend, it also sucks to be reminded constantly that his love life is hopeless and helpless and, in Chim’s words… embarrassingly tragic.

“Movie night,” Buck mutters to himself, mentally preparing for an evening of kid-friendly movies, lots of popcorn, and being in painfully close proximity to the man he’s desperately in love with. “Completely platonic movie night.”

…

In between their last film and Chris’s bedtime, which the kid managed to convince his dad to push back—“But it’s not a school night, Dad!” And like most people who have met Christopher Diaz, Eddie has trouble saying no to his kid too—Buck finds himself seated on the living room floor, a jumbo Lego set spilled all around him. He spends the next thirty minutes sticking pieces together with his best friend’s son.  

“What is that?” Chris asks, tilting his head in confusion at the multi-colored lump in Buck’s hands. It’s all sharp angles and weird shapes.

“I’m not sure, bud. I made it to match yours.”

Chris laughs loudly, head thrown back as he giggles. And Buck laughs too, open and free and so genuinely happy.

Several feet away from them, Eddie watches quietly, a soft smile on his face.

…

Eddie’s not much of a talkative guy, at least not compared to Buck. When they’re together though, Buck brings him out of his shell, and Eddie makes sure to keep Buck grounded. Chim and Hen joke that they ‘complete’ each other. Whatever that means.

The point is that Eddie has a shy side. And considering he’s about twelve years out of the dating game, he needs his best friend to help him out.

“I thought you said you needed a wingman?”

Eddie stubbornly looks up and glares at Buck. He’s nursing his third beer, which he’d been staring at with what Buck had described as ‘crazy eyes’. And he’s adamantly refused to look anywhere around the bar that they’re currently in.

Buck leans closer over their small table. “We’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t even made eye contact with anyone. What are you doing?”

“Look, I haven’t done this in a very long time, okay?!” Eddie hissed. “I was with Shannon for two years before I enlisted. Two tours later, and add a kid to the picture, I’m a little out of practice!”

Buck’s face softens and he seems to take pity on him.

“Well, if you would get out of your own head and take a look around, you’d notice that more than a few lovely ladies have been eying you up all night.” Buck pauses and adds, “A few guys, too. If you’re into that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls a face like Buck just told a joke. He misses the way Buck looks slightly dejected, just for a second, before his grin slides back into place.

“So what are you looking for then? Blonde? Brunette? Are you into any weird stuff ‘cause the chick with the sleeve tats over there looks like she likes to play with toys.”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head, finally looking around the room for the first time. “I want something… uncomplicated.”

“Uncomplicated like a quickie in the bathroom? I’ve been there, and would not recommend. Your back will be killing you the next day.”

“Just… something easy, no strings attached, never have to call them again…”

“A one-night stand?” Buck frowns and tilts his head curiously. “Sounds like my old kind of thing. I didn’t think it was yours.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s too hard to try for anything serious. I have Christopher to think about, and he needs one hundred percent of my attention. And I definitely can’t be bringing home random girls, hoping one of them is going to be Chris’s new mom.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Most would run away once they find out I’m a widowed veteran-father anyway. Talk about a flight risk.”  

“Don’t be so negative about yourself,” Buck says, his voice low. “You’re a great guy, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”  

Eddie pauses at the sincerity in Buck’s voice. It’s sweet. And nice. But he shakes his head and the moment ends. “Alright, help me out here. I really don’t want to go home tonight to just my left hand for company. Who do you think I’ve got a chance with?”

Buck grins, a little mirthless. “The girl in the red top, drinking a Long Island at the bar.” He raises an eyebrow and nods in her direction. “She’s with a group of friends, but she’s not been chatty. She keeps looking around the room like she’s looking for someone.”

Eddie turns and to his surprise, he makes eye contact. She’s attractive, probably mid to late twenties, with brown hair and blue eyes. Three solid seconds pass before she grins flirtatiously, bats her eyes, and looks away.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Buck murmurs.

Eddie finishes off his beer. The bitter taste lingers and settles in his mouth, giving him an odd sense of confidence as he stands. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Buck says softly.

Eddie slides against the bar next to the girl in the red top. He grins, friendly but not over the top. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she answers with a bright smile.

Eddie waves over the bartender. “Hi, can I get an IPA and another of what she’s having? Oh, and one more beer for my friend—” He turns his head, about to point to Buck when his eyes land on their empty table. Buck’s jacket is gone too.

He must have left.

“Um, nevermind about that last one. Thanks.”

…

Evan Buckley has been in love with his best friend for over two years. It’s painful, that they can be so close and yet he sometimes feels a million miles away. “I can’t get him out of my head, Mads. I think about him all the time and it’s so fucking distracting.”

“Dude, I work with you guys,” Chimney says slowly. “In a very dangerous line of work.”

Buck scowls as Maddie slaps her boyfriend’s arm. “I came over here to talk to my sister. Do you really have to be a part of the conversation?”

“I was here first!”

“Hm, yeah sorry,” Buck frowns and shakes his head. “I think I’ve got about twenty-six years on you in that department.”

“Stop fighting, children, please!”

Buck continues to mope on the couch while Chim shakes his head and helps himself to snacks on the coffee table. The crunch of chips between his teeth clashes harshly with the constant thump of Buck’s knee bouncing against the underside of the table.

“Look, Evan,” Maddie says carefully. “I think you really need to tell Eddie how you feel.”

“Why? What’s the point?” Buck demands. “So that he can reject me nicely? Let me down easy, maybe? Best case scenario, he says that nothing’s ever going to change between us and then he acts all weird and awkward because he knows that his best friend—who is a guy—is fucking in love with him!”  

Maddie reaches over and grabs her brother’s hand to hold. Even Chim’s eyes are downcast, looking like he feels a bit bad for him.

“You have to tell him, so that you can start to get over him,” Maddie says softly. “So that you can move on.”

“Maddie’s right,” Chim chimes in. “Rejection is the first step. If Tatiana hadn’t rejected me, I’d probably still be in that awful facade of a relationship. I never would have found the most wonderful and amazing person that I was meant to be with.”

Maddie grins softly at him. She leans over and they share a sweet kiss.

“Ugh,” Buck pulls a face and looks away. “Gross. That’s it, I can’t take any more of this. I’m out of here.”

“Evan, you don’t have to go!” Maddie says.

At the same time that Chim says, “See ya tomorrow, Buck.” He shrugs when they both give him a look. “What? I spend all day with the guy, I gotta see him at home, too?”

“Love you too, Chim,” Buck says sarcastically.

“He’s family,” Maddie says sternly.

“Hey, speaking of, where’s Albert?” Buck asks.

“Probably hooking up with rando hot girl number thirty.”

“Huh.” Buck pulls out his phone and hums. He says his goodbyes and leaves his sister and Chimney to do… whatever old, happy couples do on a Wednesday night.

Where you at?

A minute later, Albert responds. Some bar on West 23rd St. Wanna join?

Not feeling up to it. Wanna come over and hang instead?

Sure. Albert says. And then another text. I’ll be over in an hour.

…

It’s the middle of their shift and things are slow, which is never something to complain about. Eddie regales a tale about the latest girl he hooked up with. There have been a few girls since that night at the bar, and Eddie never shies away from telling Buck. Nothing too lewd. Just the highlights.

Buck nods and hums in response. His attention, however, is glued to his phone, where his thumbs rapidly fly across the screen as he texts. He plasters a lopsided grin on his face for show.

“I’m sorry, is my story about my foray back into the dating scene for the first time in over a decade too boring for you?”

Buck’s eyes snap up and he grins apologetically. He quickly slips his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry! I was listening, I swear!”

Eddie doesn’t buy it for one second.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Buck says quickly. See, he was listening. “You sealed the deal, right?”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah. It was alright. Not exactly a night of passion.”

“Better luck next time. Plenty more one-night fish in the sea, am I right?”

Eddie frowns, figuring Buck is right. He puts his mediocre night out of his mind. Buck looks like he’s itching to check his phone again. And then Eddie suddenly wonders what’s got his friend so distracted lately. “Hey, what was that just now? You’ve been glued to your phone the whole day. What is going on with you?”

Buck blushes and actually looks embarrassed, a rare sight. “I uh—I met someone,” he says bashfully.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Wow, um, congrats, dude. You haven’t mentioned getting back out there or anything.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it was time. It’s been a year since Ali…”

Eddie frowns and tries to be happy for him. But the only thing he can think is, “Is it serious?”

Buck grins softly. “It might be. Too early to tell, you know? But I think I want it to be.”

Eddie nods. An uncomfortable feeling rolls around in the pit of his stomach. He must have eaten something at lunch that doesn’t agree with him. He brushes it aside. “What’s her name?”

Buck hesitates. “His name is… Tom.”

Whatever Eddie ate for lunch might be threatening to come back up again.

…

“How could he not tell me? I mean, how could he not tell me?! We’re best friends, this is the type of thing that you tell your best friend!” Eddie gestures wildly with his arms as he speaks.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Hen takes a drink of her cocktail and narrowly avoids being hit accidentally by Eddie’s flailing hands. “It’s not like he outright lied to you.”

“Not telling me that he’s into guys isn’t lying to me?”

“He’s dated one girl in the two plus years that you’ve known him. So he omitted one small fact about himself, so what? There are people who like both, you know.”

Eddie scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, but Buck?!”

Hen gives him a pointed look and Eddie sighs. “I just… I don’t get why didn’t he tell me sooner.” He says softly.

“Please. You are not about to ask a lesbian why Buck didn’t out himself to you sooner. And you are definitely not having an issue with the fact itself, right?”

“Of course not,” Eddie says firmly. He might have grown up in a homophobic town in Texas, but that was never him. He stood up for the kids who got bullied growing up. He would never hate Buck for being gay, bi, pan, or whatever he labels himself. He would never hate anyone for that.

He just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. Why didn’t Buck tell him sooner? Why does it feel like such a painful and devastating betrayal, knowing that Buck met someone and they ‘might’ be getting serious?

“Wait,” Eddie freezes. “Hang on. Why aren’t you more surprised by this?”

Hen chuckles. “We have… a type of radar. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” She finishes her drink and laughs to herself. “From the second I laid eyes on that boy, I could tell he was a womanizer and a playboy. But let me tell you, that bitch also looks like he is two clicks away from calling the first man to pull his hair Daddy.” She cackles loudly, unaware that Eddie is struggling not to choke on the air in his lungs.  

…

Albert is really good at chess.

Apparently, he won some sort of big deal tournament in South Korea. He brushes it off like no big deal whenever Chimney brings it up.

“It’s about being able to predict your opponent's move before they’ve even thought of it. You need to be three steps ahead, always. And flexible enough to adjust your strategy to the evolving game.”

Buck frowns. “That sounds really complicated. And hard.”

“I can teach you. Have you ever heard of game theory?”

“Dude, I told you I wasn’t the best in school,” Buck groans.

“Game theory is recognized as an important tool in many fields. It’s won Nobel prizes,” Albert says seriously.

Buck’s head spins from the nerd talk. “The only thing I care about, is will this even work?”

“Trust me,” Albert smiles, young and soft and genuine. “With my help, it will work.”

…

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck grins at Christopher’s excitement and quickly shoves two bags of take-out into Eddie’s hands so that he can kneel down and give Chris a hug. “Hi, buddy, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Buck!”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been over in a while. I’ve been busy.” His brow furrows, regretful, and he sneaks a quick glance at Eddie, who wears an unreadable expression while he tries to balance the bags Buck had pushed into his arms.  

“That’s okay, you’re here now.” And with that, Chris takes Buck by the hand and leads him over to the couch.

Clearly, it’s now Eddie’s responsibility to handle the food.

After dinner, Buck helps Eddie with the dishes, while Chris is engrossed by a movie in the living room.

“So I was thinking maybe you could spend the night?” Eddie says, as he rinses a dirty dish under the tap. “We can do breakfast tomorrow morning at the diner on Stratton, the one that Chris likes. And I was going to take him to the park afterwards, you know he loves having you there.”

Buck is silent for a moment, just long enough that Eddie stops and looks up from what he’s doing.

“I um… I actually have plans later tonight.”

“Oh,” Eddie says dumbly. Out the corner of his eye, the clock on the oven blinks 8:11 PM. “What kind of plans?” He asks casually.

Buck blushes and drops his gaze. “Tom’s coming over.” A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I don’t think you want any details beyond that.”    

Eddie purses his lips and returns his attention to the dishes. He doesn’t want to think about Buck and Tom, the latter is just a faceless shadow in his mind. But one with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw.  

Nope, he does not need any more details.

“Maybe I could still join you guys at the park though?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, as he scrubs a plate with far more force than necessary. “I’m sure Chris would love that.”

…

Eddie isn’t as great at hiding his emotions as he would like to believe. Maybe once upon a time he got away with it, but over the past two years, the 118 has become family to him. And families pry. They get into each other’s business, with good intentions, of course.

“Rough night?”

Eddie looks up and sees his Captain’s concerned face watching him. “Uh, sort of, Cap. I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admits. “Kind of have a lot on my mind right now. But I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s not affecting my work.”

Bobby takes a seat in the chair next to him. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately. Is everything alright at home?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Eddie says carefully. “Christopher is doing well and he’s loving his classes at school. Everything’s great, Cap.”

The words taste like ash and sound fake to his own ears.

“Listen, it’s my job to know when something is wrong with my team,” Bobby says seriously. “And you’ve been off for weeks now. Is there… is there something going on between you and Buck that I should know about?”

“No! No, of course not!” Eddie says, a little too quickly. “I mean… Okay, honestly, Buck hasn’t been around much lately—” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Since he’s been seeing someone and… Chris has been asking why he hasn’t been around as much, and I know that he misses him.” He sighs and runs his hands through his short hair. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Bobby gives him a strange look, like maybe he’s being a bit slow. “Have you tried… talking to Buck about this? I’m sure Buck is more than happy to make time for you guys. You’re family to him.”

Eddie blinks, oblivious. “No. Why would I?”

“Because it might solve all your problems.”

Eddie snorts. That doesn’t quite compute.

Bobby pats him on the shoulder and gives him a sad, knowing glance. He wonders how long it’s going to take for Eddie to admit to himself that it’s not just Chris who misses Buck.

…

“Eddie, h-hey, what’s up?”

Eddie grins. Buck’s voice is breathy like he’s just gone on a run, or been going hard at the gym. It’s a sound that Eddie associates with a bad call that ends well because they saved the day. Out of breath and gasping, but still with a grin plastered across his face so bright it could light up a room.

“What’s going on?” Comes Buck’s concerned voice over the line when Eddie doesn’t answer. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tries to get himself out of his own head. He’s been having trouble thinking straight lately. “Yeah. Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just wondering what you’re up to tonight? Chris is having some friends over and I could use another pair of eyes on them. You know I hate being outnumbered,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t,” Buck says, and then there’s a rush of air into the phone before he continues, “I uh… I think I’m staying in tonight.”

Eddie frowns. Something doesn’t sound quite right. He narrows his eyes and presses the phone closer to his ear. There’s rustling in the background, like something is going on over Buck’s end. “Come on, dude,” he presses. “We haven’t hung out outside of work in like two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” Buck drawls. “You’re hopeless without me.”

Eddie is about to say something snarky in return when he hears a muffled sound in the background, right before Buck grunts softly into his ear.

His hand tightens on his phone. “Buck?”

“W-what?” Buck sounds distracted, and then the clear sound of a backboard squeaking rhythmically tells Eddie all he needs to know. “Eddie, I gotta go,” he says breathlessly. His voice is cut off by commotion on his end of the line.

Eddie winces when he hears the clear clatter of Buck’s phone dropping to the ground.

“Shit, I dropped my phone!”

Muffled noises and heavy moans drift over the line. Warmth floods his body and Eddie feels his face flush red. It’s suddenly very hard to breathe. He should hang up. He should pretend this call never happened. He really, really should not stay on the line listening to his best friend having sex with another man.

“Oh, fuck, harder—”

Eddie closes his eyes. Buck’s face in high definition lights up in his mind, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed, and maybe he bites down on his bottom lip as he gets fucked—

What the hell is he doing? Thinking about Buck’s red lips and how it’s so adorable that his birthmark is the same shade as that luscious mouth—

Eddie considers hanging up yet again.

But the grunts and moans and sounds of pleasure are getting louder. And he’s suddenly so fucking hard.

“Fuck! Come on, give me more, right there—”

His hand is reaching down his pants and wrapping around his hard cock before Eddie even realizes it. He jerks himself roughly as he listens to the sound of Buck’s voice.  

He’s never come so fast in his life.

…

“Hey Chim, how’s it going with Albert?” Eddie asks. “You guys getting along any better?”

Chimney frowns and glances over at the bar where Albert, Buck, and Hen are sharing a laugh over drinks.

“They are getting along wonderfully,” Maddie answers for him.

“Well, he’s family,” Chim manages, shaking his head.

Eddie chuckles and his eyes can’t help but land on Buck and stay there.

Of course, they never mentioned the call, instead both chose to act like the whole thing never happened. Maybe Buck didn’t realize that it was blatantly obvious what he was doing when Eddie called, and maybe he didn’t realize that Eddie stayed on the line, blowing a load over him, like a goddamn creep.  

The next day, he just smiled and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder like nothing was wrong. Nevermind that Eddie’s whole world was crashing around him because he got himself off to his best friend being fucked by another guy. And the orgasm he had over Buck’s voice was more intense than any he’d had with the random women he’d slept with over the past month.

He can’t even remember their names.

So lost in thought, he doesn’t realize that Maddie and Chim are giving each other smirks and looks while he’s distracted.

“What’s going on with you, Mr. Mopey?” Chimney asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Come on, you’ve been acting off for weeks,” Chim says while Maddie tries to hide a laugh. “Everyone’s noticed. Just admit it.”

“Admit what?” Eddie genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about.

“You can’t possibly be that thick,” Chim says slowly.

Maddie pats him on the shoulder. “Babe, don’t push it.”

“Oh, come on! Even Albert won’t stop talking about it—”

Eddie never finds out what it is because they’re interrupted by the presence of none other than the man who is the star of his wet dreams.

“What’s up, guys?” Buck’s grin is a mile wide and he’s just loose enough from a few drinks that he’s extra handsy. And he’s pretty handsy with Eddie on a regular day.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat as his skin hyper focuses on Buck’s arm around his shoulders. He quickly takes another drink of his beer so that he doesn’t have to answer.

And then he spends the rest of the night hoping and praying that his jeans are tight enough to hide the obvious erection in his pants.

…

Eddie thinks it can’t possibly get any worse. He’s wrong.

Weeks of blue balls and pining leave him in a near constant bad mood. Even Chris has noticed that he’s been snappier than usual—which of course, makes him feel like an asshole.  

Buck hasn’t mentioned anything, though everyone else seems to be avoiding him like the plague.

And then during one of their shifts, twenty minutes after Eddie texts Buck to confirm his pizza topping of choice for lunch, he receives a photo to their text message chain. He thinks he’s hallucinating when the little icon image pops up on his screen.

But then he opens the image and his eyes bulge wide out of their sockets.  

Buck is shirtless. It’s not like Eddie hasn’t seen the guy naked before. After all, they’ve spent plenty of time together in the showers and locker room at the firehouse. It’s the look on his face that gets him. The angle is taken from above. It’s meant to be sexual. Buck is biting his lip, head tilted back, a look of absolute sin gracing his handsome features. Eddie has never thought of his friend as pretty before, but god damn, Buck is pretty.

And as Eddie’s eyes trail down Buck’s chest, down his chiseled abs, they travel over the gorgeous V of his hip bones, to just past the base of his shaft, the rest cut off by his boxer briefs pulled down by the hook of his thumb.

The picture was clearly meant for something else.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He’s torn between confronting Buck about this egregious error that he made and running into the bathroom to jerk off.

In hindsight, the latter would have been better. After all, with post-nut clarity, he never would have done what he actually did, which is yell at Buck, in front of the whole firehouse.

“What the actual fuck?!”

Buck gapes at the lewd image on his phone, when shoved in his face. “I—I am so sorry, Eddie!” He stutters, red with embarrassment. “I did not mean to send that to you! I—I didn’t check the chain, and I had forgotten that you texted me your order—”

“You think I want to be getting shit like this on my phone?” Eddie rages. “Be more fucking careful next time you send shit like this to your boyfriend, or whoever the hell he is!”

Buck looks hurt. “Sorry, man,” he says softly. “It won’t happen again.”

Head bowed, Buck walks away with his tail tucked between his legs, leaving Eddie feeling like the biggest asshole on the face of this earth.

It doesn’t help that their little squabble had gained an audience.

Eddies groans and clenches his fists by his sides. He fights the urge to smash his phone to pieces.

He never does delete that photo.

…

Eddie’s not sure how they got to this point. Their friends pity them and Bobby has personally demanded that they resolve their differences. Fast. Or they won’t be covering the same shifts anymore. And now Buck is mad and wanting answers.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Buck.”

“You haven’t looked at me in days. If this is still about the pic that I accidentally sent you—”

“No!” Eddie says loudly. “No, it’s not about that. I am definitely way past that.”

Buck pauses and stares at him in disbelief. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie swallows thickly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“You’ve been acting like a real dick lately,” Buck says blatantly. “If you have a problem with me, you should just say it.”

Eddie bites his tongue. “Nope. No problem at all.”

Buck grits his teeth and storms away. And that’s that.

…

Not too long later, Eddie reaches his breaking point.

“Alright, fine! Maybe I am pissed at you!” Eddie gives in to the weeks of loneliness and sexual frustration and yells at his friend. “I’m pissed that you haven’t been around! And when you are, you’re distracted and distant and all you talk about is this Tom fella—”

“My boyfriend?”

“Whatever!” Eddie says. “Fuck!”

He knows he’s being a Grade A asshole, but he can’t help himself. Buck drives him crazy and he has no idea how to stop it.

A long moment passes before Buck speaks, “Well, not to get your hopes up or anything,” he says softly. “But this Tom thing might not last much longer.”

Eddie’s curiosity is piqued. Despite knowing better, he asks, “What’s going on?”

Buck shrugs uncomfortably. “I think we just want different things. Probably not going to work out in the long run.”

“And… what do you want?”

Buck looks at him and for a second Eddie gets lost in the blue of his eyes. “I want something real, you know? And I thought that’s what he wanted too, but… he wants to keep it open. Keep seeing other people.” He sighs heavily, sounding sad and defeated. “Which I was fine with for a while, but… I kind of thought he’d change his mind eventually.”

Buck shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You don’t want to hear about this—”

“Tom’s a fucking asshole,” Eddie spits.

Buck blinks in surprise. “W-what?” He chuckles softly.

“You heard me. He’s a fucking asshole. I’ll kick his ass if I ever meet him.”  

Buck stares at him for a long moment. And then his face breaks into a grin. “Thanks, Eddie. You’re a good friend.”

Eddie nods. For the first time in a long time, he does feel like a good friend. Because he would absolutely kick anyone’s ass who hurt Buck.

…

Things between them get better after that.

And one evening, after the end of a long shift, Eddie and Buck get good and truly hammered.

It’s been a long time since Eddie had drank that much. But they don’t have to work the next day, Chris is sleeping over at Abuela’s, and him and Buck are friends again. So he lets loose and just goes along with whatever Buck wants. And Buck leans very much into his personal space in his drunk and disorderly state.

Eddie doesn’t mind one bit. Like an idiot, he doesn’t push him away.

He misses the laughs and doesn’t catch the mild looks of judgment and concern from Hen and Chim, because he’s too drunk to care. And when Albert keeps pushing tequila shots their way, he giggles and throws them back with Buck because it finally feels like they’re them again. And he’s really missed this.

…

The pillow that smacks him in the face wakes him up fast. With a startled gasp, Eddie blinks the sleep and haze out of his eyes. The first thing he registers is his throbbing headache.  “What the hell—” The second is the pillow that hits him again before he can do anything more than blink dumbly in surprise. And then he’s pissed. “What the fuck, Buck?!”  

“Stop that!” Eddie grabs the pillow before the other man can hit him again. “This is not exactly the morning after I was hoping for!”

“What exactly were you hoping for?! What the hell, Eddie?! We had sex last night! TOGETHER!” Buck’s voice gets higher until he’s nearly screeching, which is not great for either of their hangovers. He seems to suddenly realize he’s naked because he pulls the covers up tighter around himself as if it might preserve his chastity. A bit late for that, Eddie thinks.

“You… asshole! What the hell?!”  

Eddie rubs the residual fog out of his eyes and stares at him. “You told Chim last night that you would give your left nut to suck my dick, so what the hell are you complaining about?” He smirks and nods at the shocked expression on Buck’s face. “Yeah, apparently, you get reeeal chatty when you’ve had tequila.”

“Chim said what?” Buck whispers softly, looking mildly shell-shocked and like he really wants to bury himself in the earth and never come out again.

“Oh, and by the way, I am way hotter than that guy you were flirting with at the bar,” Eddie growls, indignant and affronted. “If you want to know regret, know that you could have woken up next to that!”

“He—he was perfectly fine looking,” Buck stutters.

At the same time that Eddie hisses, “Man-bun.”

“And more importantly,” Buck continues harshly. “Since when do you sleep with guys?”

“Since last night, apparently,” Eddie says steely, not nearly as mortified and shocked as he should be. He adds, “And it was really great. Morning after could use some work though.”

Buck swallows. “I never thought… I never thought you were interested.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie lies. He takes a breath, counts to three in his head, and on a whim and a prayer, he reaches for Buck and crashes their lips together with such force that they nearly topple over.

They’re all awkward limbs and gross tequila morning breath—and yet, they seem to fit together perfectly in each other’s arms. They fall back onto Buck’s sheets. A mess of gangly limbs, dried bodily fluids, and lips desperate to feel more.  

Perfect.

…

If anyone were to ask what this thing is between him and Buck, Eddie would say that it’s casual. That’s the word he likes to use when he thinks of them. They’re sleeping together and it’s good and hot and mindblowing sex. But it’s also easy. Because Buck is uncomplicated, and he’s there again when Chris wants him. He loves Christopher, Eddie has no doubt about that. And most importantly, Eddie can get laid whenever he wants.

“Hey, so I was thinking about asking Carla to stay late this Friday to watch Chris,” Buck brings up to him one night. “Maybe you and I can go out to dinner after our shift. We could go some place nice. That new restaurant on Main St. maybe.”

Eddie follows his first instinct which is to laugh, because it sounds like Buck just suggested that they go out on a date. The look on Buck’s face says that he made a mistake.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Eddie asks after seeing the dejected look on Buck’s face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Buck’s voice is low and strange.

“Because that… that sounds like a date,” Eddie says incredulously. “That’s not what you and I do. We don’t go to nice restaurants, we’re not—”

“A couple?” Buck cuts him off roughly. His expression has grown hard. “So what exactly are we?”

It’s a rare moment when Eddie is at a loss for words, but right now they seem to be stuck in his throat and he has no idea what to say.

“What exactly is this to you, Eddie?” Buck asks slowly.

“We’re just… good friends helping each other out,” he manages.

“Friends?” Buck demands, eyes narrowed and furious. “I’ve sucked your cock, I think we’re a little beyond friends, Eddie.”

“Jesus, Buck! Keep your voice down!” Eddie hisses, even though Chris’s room is on the other end of the house and he’s probably fast asleep at this hour.

But now Buck just looks defeated and hurt, and it’s the last thing that Eddie wanted.

“I thought this meant more to you,” Buck says quietly. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Look, Buck,” Eddie starts. “You know I love you, man. Just… just not like that. I can’t do that.”

Buck scoffs and looks away, which makes Eddie feel worse.

“I told you, a long time ago, that I’m not looking for anything serious, with anyone. It’s… it’s not you, Buck. It’s just that, I have a son to think about.” It makes sense in his head. It’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else. He just needs to make Buck see.

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks. Okay? “Yeah?”

Buck nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. He slowly turns away, looking lost for a moment, before turning back, eyes glazed and hurt and unseeing. “I’m gonna go.” He says, pointing a thumb behind him. He starts gathering his things to leave and Eddie’s heart sinks into his gut. It hurts like there’s a knife buried there, twisting.

“Wait, no,” Eddie says desperately. “Buck, don’t leave—” He reaches for him but Buck snatches his arm away before Eddie can make contact. Somehow that stings more than when Shannon asked for a divorse.  

Buck is adamant about avoiding eye contact, or any type of contact at all.

He’s hurt. And Eddie hates that this time, he was the one to do it.

“I’ll see you later, man,” Buck mutters, and then he’s gone.

Eddie stands, alone in his kitchen, feeling more lost than ever before.

…

Hen, bless her soul, is the first to pull him aside and demand to know how he managed to fuck up such a sure, good thing.

“What kind of moron are you?” She asks after she listens to his side of the story.

“W-what?” Eddie sputters helplessly. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You are both miserable,” she says bluntly. “Why?!”

Eddie sighs heavily and agrees. “Buck looked like he was about to dry heave when I stepped into the station today,” he says sadly.

“You are dumber than a bag of rocks. Eddie Diaz, I’m going to say this once and only once. You. Love. Him.” She says, enunciating each word.

“Of course, I love him,” Eddie responds. “He’s my closest friend. He’s Buck. I trust him with everything—”

“No, you dumbass. I mean, you love him. He’s not just some rando hookup you picked up for a night. He’s not just a friend, he’s Buck, the guy who would rather die than see anything bad happen to you or your son. He’s the guy who loves your kid like his own. And, speaking as a mother, that is not something to be said lightly.”

“I know Buck loves Chris,” Eddie says softly. “And I never asked him to, he just…” His voice trails off, as the realization slowly dawns on him.

Hen raises a brow. “Let me ask you a question,” she says slowly. “Why did you stop looking for girls to sleep with? You stopped long before you and Buck started this thing between you two. So why? Why did you stop?”

“I…” Fuck. Eddie remembers the longing that he felt when Buck was with someone else. He remembers how much it hurt. Like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. “Anyone else just… wasn’t what I wanted,” he realizes.

“So what are you waiting for now, dummy?”

“I’m scared,” Eddie admits. “I thought that it would be too difficult or too complicated, or whatever dumb shit I was thinking at the time. I thought it wasn’t worth the risk. To me and to my son.”

“And is it?” Hen asks softly.

Eddie bites his lip. “If this goes sideways, I don’t know what it’ll do to Christopher. That kid has lost so much already. And he loves Buck to death, if this doesn’t work out—”

“Kids are a lot tougher than we like to give them credit for. I’m saying this from one parent to another. You can’t let that hold you back. You can’t let it stop you from going after what you really want. Trust me, Chris will understand. He probably already knows you’re head over heads for his Buck.”

Eddie laughs and bows his head. “Yeah, probably. I never did hide it very well, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Hen agrees.

“I think I was wrong,” Eddie finally whispers.

Hen’s fingers flex around his forearm, offering what comfort she can.  “Are you done being an idiot yet?”

Eddie considers it. “Yeah, I think so. I just gotta clear it with one more person,” he says softly.

…

His son is the most important person in his life. Eddie has so much to make up for. He was away for so long and he missed so much. And he vowed that he would never let Christopher down again.

But he has. Of course he has, he’s only human. But he keeps trying and he never gives up. And he figures that’s got to count for something.

For over two years, Eddie watched the relationship blossom between Buck and Chris. He watched as Buck doted on his kid, took him under his wing, and not long after, he started loving him.

Eddie now includes Buck’s name on his list of emergency contacts.

It took a little while longer, but eventually Eddie realizes that Chris looks up to Buck like another parent.

The moment really came when he peeks into Chris’s bedroom and sees Buck reading his son a bedtime story, one of Christopher’s favorites. Chris insists every night that Buck is there. Buck does the voices better than Eddie.

There they are, side by side. Chris’s eyes are drooping, no longer focused on the page. Buck’s voice is still animated and excited, though getting softer by the minute. And the look on his face, Eddies loves that look. Eddie loves him.

It’s a terrifying thought.

It catches him off guard. It scares him. Chris already lost one parent. Eddie couldn’t bear his son losing another. So he kept Buck at a distance. Tried to draw a line between what he had with Buck and what they had as a family.

Hen was right, he was a goddamn moron.

Buck was family long before he and Eddie got wasted and fell into bed with each other.

“Hey, kiddo,” Eddie kneels down by his son where he’s playing with his toys in the living room.

“Hi, Dad.”

Chris’s grin warms his heart and Eddie can’t help but smile as well. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Eddie smiles at his kid, the shining epitome love of his life. “I want to talk to you about Buck.”

Chris’s grin grows wider. “I like Buck. Is he coming over tonight?”

“I like Buck, too.” Eddie says carefully. “So you… you like it when Buck is here?”

“Yeah, Buck is fun. And he loves me.”

“He sure does. Who wouldn’t love you, kiddo?” Eddie jokes.

“No,” Chris shakes his head. “Buck is special.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And why is that?”

“Because you love him, Dad.”

Eddie freezes. He closes his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat. “Chris, how… how did you know that?” He whispers.

“The way you look at him,” Chris says easily. “And the way you act around him.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie presses.

“When Buck was hurt, you were really worried,” Chris explains. “You were sad and you were upset, and you would do everything you could to make him feel better. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Eddie says softly. When Buck got crushed by a ladder truck, there were moments when Eddie thought he was going to lose him forever. He was scared—terrified. Not just for Buck’s health and safety, but he was scared that his life could forever be changed because some asshole kid decided to play bomber.

And when Buck almost died from the pulmonary embolism, because he pushed himself too hard—that made Eddie angry. Angry that Buck risked his life and his health and did this to himself. And maybe if Eddie had tried harder to be there for him, Buck wouldn’t have felt the need to get back to where he was so quickly.

Apparently, Eddie didn’t hide this very well.

“When Buck’s not here, you’re sad,” Chris says softly. “When he’s here, you’re happy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. Kids make it sound so simple. He has a hard time remembering why he’s been acting like an idiot for so long. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So you love him,” Chris says simply.

“I do,” Eddie says quietly, tears growing in his eyes. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am, Dad. Buck is amazing,” Chris says with a grin.

Eddie has never been so grateful that he has such an amazing kid. He still can’t believe he lucked out, that he has such a wonderful son. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling him into a hug. Tears trail down his cheeks, but they’re happy tears. “Buck really is amazing.”

Chris smiles and lets out a soft laugh against him. “I love Buck, too, Dad.”

So, now Eddie has some groveling to do.

…

Buck isn’t surprised when he opens his door to see Eddie on the other side. He does huff in annoyance though. “What are you doing here?” He asks. They haven’t spoken since Buck walked out. Buck has avoided his calls and the texts go unanswered.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first. But he motions awkward with his arm and Buck eventually steps back to let him in.

“Look, I really don’t want to do this with you, Eddie—”

“Of course, you don’t,” Eddie says quickly. “We were always awful when we’re mad at each other. Over such dumb shit too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Buck gives him an odd look. “Am I just supposed to get over it? I mean, I’ve had your dick up my ass, are we just supposed to pretend that never happened?”  

Eddie blushes. “Yeah, that’s not really a memory I want to erase from existence, so…”

Buck stares at him, stubborn and calm. “So, what exactly are you saying?”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been acting like a royal idiot lately,” Eddie says. “I did pretty much everything wrong. I didn’t think that I wanted you until you were with someone else. And then when I did have you, I didn’t realize that what we had was so much more than I ever gave us credit for.”

Buck stays stubbornly silent. But he’s not kicking him out, which is enough to make Eddie continue. “I need you to know that I love you, and not just as a friend. I love you like a partner, like Chris’s second dad, like a missing piece of myself, and when you’re not there… it literally feels like my life is falling apart.”

His breath shudders and he sighs, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am so lost without you, Buck. And I was such an idiot that I didn’t realize it sooner. So, please… I am asking from the bottom of my heart… will you give me another chance?”

“I always knew you were an idiot,” Buck eventually says. “I don’t know where Chris gets his smarts from, because it definitely isn’t you.”

Eddie grins and takes a hesitant step forward. “Yeah, I deserve that,” he says softly, and then he takes another step. “You’re right, I was an idiot.”

“I’m gonna make you take me out, you know,” Buck whispers. “You’re gonna have to wine and dine me, and I mean, the good, expensive stuff.”

“Whatever you want, babe. I swear.” Eddie takes another final step and then he’s crowding into Buck’s space, pressing tight against his chest. He leans up to press their lips together and Buck’s got that look in his eyes that Eddie knows all too well. The look that says he’s in too deep, he loves too much, and if Eddie hurts him again, that’ll be the end of him.

But Eddie swears to high heaven, he’ll do his best to never ever hurt this man again.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” Eddie murmurs against his lips.

“You swear you’ll stay with me this time?” Buck asks. “You’ll try this for real with me?”

Eddie nods. He presses their lips together, again and again, like he can’t get enough. His fingers are wrapped tight around the other man’s shirt, and he can tell Buck is holding himself back. He presses his weight against him, pushing him through the small apartment until they both fall against the couch—the stairs being too much to traverse in their state. The intense heat of their bodies together opens all the floodgates.  

“I promise you, Buck. For real. You and me,” Eddie nods his head, his fingers fumble with Buck’s zipper, and then his own. “Like we should have been this whole goddamn time.”

When the clothes are off and skin is pressed to bare skin, they moan like starved men gasping for air. There’s lube somewhere in Buck’s coffee table drawer, and a box of condoms. Eddie presses his fingers into the hard flesh along Buck’s hips and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He sucks bruises into Buck’s skin, tastes him on his tongue and smells him in his nostrils. He can feel the other man’s pulse; strong, fast, and steady. He feels it rise and flutter as he moves inside him.

Their bodies grind together and the feeling is intoxicating; hot, sickly, and sweet. They’re reckless and dangerous and so in love that they’re sure nothing they’ve ever experienced even comes close to this.

They groan and pant and freefall toward climax together, limbs wrapped around each other, messy and uncoordinated. And when it’s over, Eddie presses his sweaty temple gently against Buck’s cheek. He’s gasping, struggling to catch his breath.

Buck chuckles softly, his hand comes up to wrap around Eddie’s arm. Their sounds echo through the apartment, a familiar comfort to them both.  

“I’m hungry,” Buck says softly, before Eddie has even pulled out of him. “You wanna grab some food?”

Eddie grins and nods his head.

This feels good, he thinks to himself, better than anything he’s had before. And this time, he’s going to remember that.

…  

Some time later:

“Chim, your brother is still here?” Eddie nods to Albert who’s engrossed in conversation with Buck by the bar. Eddie narrows his eyes at the serious look on Buck’s face. He wonders what they’re talking about.

Chimney gives him a strange look, perhaps surprised that he asked, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, thought he was staying a few weeks. Guess that’s turned into a few months now.”

“Couch-surfing for months, that’s got to be rough,” Eddie comments.

“My couch, random strange hook ups’ couches, Buck’s couch. That guy really knows how to get around.”

Eddie frowns. “Buck’s couch?” He knew Albert had stayed at Buck’s place once, after Chimney blew up at him. Not that it had happened again though.

Chim raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know? They hang out like… all the time. It’s fucking weird, man. If I didn’t know you and Buck got a serious thing going on, I’d be a little worried about Buckaroo over there taking my little brother’s innocence.”

Eddie gapes. “Are you serious?” His eyes fly around the bar again, not knowing what he thought he’d see. Buck and Albert look the same as they did twenty seconds ago, still talking by the bar.

“I’m kidding!” Chim says, laughing as he slaps Eddie on the arm. “Of course, I’m kidding!”

Eddie breathes in relief.

Until Chim continues, “My little brother doesn’t have an ounce of innocence inside him.”

Eddies doesn’t know how to approach this. He wants to know why he didn’t know—why Buck didn’t tell him that he was apparently close to Chimney’s estranged half-brother. He wants to go over there and find out what they’re talking about. How does he do that without coming across like some jealous asshole? His mind flips back and forth between playing it cool and storming over there.

Thankfully, Buck saves him the trouble.

He pulls him aside and looks hesitant when he speaks, which Eddie takes note of right away.

“Hey, can we talk about something real quick?” Buck asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie says carefully. “What’s going on?

“Um,” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “You know how I kind of made you grovel when you came back? And I kind of emphasized how you were a total dick, who needed to beg and plead before getting back into my pants?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah.” He remembers it vividly.

“Okay,” Buck admits. “So, I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Eddie chuckles.

“No,” Buck insists. “I actually am kind of a dick.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He clicks and swipes while Eddie watches confused until Buck holds the screen up in front of his face.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s looking at. It’s his contact info, with call data, and all their incoming and outgoing calls.

“Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

Eddie stares, blank and confused, until it dawns on him. He sees the call log. He sees the date and the numbers and there’s only one possibility. Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds that he stayed on the line. Listening. Like a perv.

“Um… I—I wasn’t—” He stutters. “I don’t know what—”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I knew you were listening,” Buck says quickly as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Um, I don’t really know how to tell you this, but… Tom wasn’t real.”

“What?” Eddie blinks and struggles to process. “Tom, your… ex-boyfriend?”

Buck looks genuinely shameful. “Yeah, he was… kind of, made up?” He says lightly.    

Eddie’s mind sort of short-circuits then. Because what the hell does that mean? “W-what?!” He sputters.

“I’m sorry!” Buck says quickly. And then he rolls into a tangent that Eddie can only hope to follow as best his can. “It was Albert’s idea, ‘cause I was complaining about how much I was in love with you. And apparently, I talk about you a lot, like non-stop and he was getting sick of it. And I think I was moping and pissing him off because he just wanted a drinking buddy. And then he kept going on and on about behavior theory and logical decision making and all this other shit that I don’t really understand!”

Eddie blinks and Buck continues, “He told me what to do to get you and I just went along with it! He told me to invent some guy and it would make you realize what you wanted all along… And that if I threatened to pull away, you would realize that you love me and that this thing between us—” He gestures quickly with his hands. “—is real. And it worked!”

Buck shrugs, a small, hopeful expression on his face. “Except now I kind of feel like a dick because I made you feel bad, and he said that I should come clean about everything and that you wouldn’t mind because you love me too—”

“Wait, wait, wait… hold up,” Eddie’s mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. “You lied to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispers.

“Tom was… was a lie?” Eddie tries to think of the evidence. He never met the guy, never even saw a photo. Buck just kept talking about him… “But the call…”

“Yeah, I kind of had a bit of fun with that one,” Buck grins bashfully. “Our first phone sex!” He tries to joke, but it falls flat when he sees the look on Eddie’s face.  

“You tricked me? You’ve been lying this whole time?”

“Well, I… I prefer to think of it as, I used dishonest tactics to persuade you…”

“The—the fucking… naked picture of you…” Eddie’s jaw drops as the pieces finally come together in his head. “You sent that to me on purpose!”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says softly.

“I cannot believe this! You—you inserted yourself into my life, lied to me for months, pull yourself away, and of course, I’m over here tweaking like an addict without dope! And feeling like the biggest jerk in the world!”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic, I think.”

“Where is that asshole?”

Buck’s eyes widen comically when he sees the other man prepare for a rampage. “Eddie, wait!”

But Eddie’s already making his way back to the group. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows that he’s furious, embarrassed that he was played so easily, and completely blind-sided by the truth. He can’t even put his thoughts in order to make a coherent—

“Hey, asshole!”

All eyes turn to him, shocked by his outburst. Hen and Chim are clearly confused, unsure of what’s going on. A second later, he registers that Buck has caught up to him. The expression on his face is oddly reminiscent of Scrat from the Ice Age movies that Chris loves watching. Stunned, sheepish, and a little bit of ‘did I do that?’

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You think you can just mess with people’s heads like this?! You think you can just treat this shit like a game, like… like some fucking chess game?!”

“Eddie, stop!” Buck pleads.

“Whoa, wait, what the hell is going on?” Chim asks.

“You fucking piece of shit, I ought to—”

Albert stands slowly, his hands held up innocently in front of him. Eddie breathes slowly through his nose. He can feel Buck’s presence behind him, ready to hold him back in case he decides to do something royally stupid.

“I’m sorry if you feel fooled,” Albert says carefully. “We had no intention to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Behind him, the others stare, mouths gaping. “What is happening right now?” Maddie whispers.

“Eddie, please think about this,” Buck says softly. “Please—”

Eddie cuts him off by taking a step forward. They all hold their breaths. And then, to their surprise and his own, Eddie wraps his arms around Albert in a tight hug. “You are such an asshole.” His voice is tight and strangled. “But thank you.”

“Okay, can someone please explain what is going on?” Chim asks. “We’re kind of losing our minds over here.”

“I think we might need some more drinks for this,” Hen says, right before she and Maddie share a look.

“Amen, sister.”

Later, after everyone is caught up and thoroughly impressed—

“I studied game theory in college,” Albert explains.

“Glad to see you’re doing something good with that fancy education of yours,” Chim says sarcastically.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,” Maddie says, incredulous. “Who knew you were such a good actor?” She smacks her little brother on the arm and chuckles at Buck’s yelp.

—and Buck and Eddie finally have a moment to themselves, Buck asks him, “So I can relax and trust that you’re not going to kick his ass?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. “I wanted to.”

“You had me worried there for a second.”

“Albert’s genius is what got me to stop being an idiot,” Eddie says softly. “He got us together, and you are the love of my life. I could never hate him for that.”

Buck makes a face, about to coo and aww at the ‘love of his life’ comment until Eddie continues. “You, on the other hand, you lied to me. For months. You manipulated me, made me feel like an asshole for hurting you. And this whole time, you were playing me. I think I’m owed some groveling now.”

Buck pouts and says, “My feelings were never a lie. I’ve been in love with you for years and I was getting desperate. You know, desperate measures and all.” His lips turn up a little and he wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist, tugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. Please don’t be mad at me. After all, I am the love of your life.”

Eddie grins and leans close, pressing their lips together for a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, you really are.”

Fin.

[theforumcat]

Hello! In your post with the macaroni and cheese recipe, your second tag read “if you ever wanna get mad about a recipe ask me about the sweet rolls.” My dad said “Yes! Dozens of hundreds of recipes please, if they’re anything like the mac & cheese. 😊” and then sent nine thumbs up emojis over three texts! We are both fans of the macaroni and cheese! Could I have the recipe for the beef stroganoff, the cherry tomato dip, and the funeral potatoes? Also, do you have any vegan recipes? Moving on, Pushkin has been described as a badger and a rabbit and a cat! Sometimes my mom mispronounces his name as “Punchkin.”

Ohhhhhh

Okay so my patriarchal family has a matriarch. She’s dead - died in the very young childhoods or before birth of my parent generation. My dad is the oldest of that generation and he was like five ish when she died. My grandparent and great-grandparent generation sold the family farm in Iowa after she died, and had been holding on to it pretty much exclusively so she could continue to live there and they could continue to visit her there for a very long time. And she… she’s a bit of a folklore figure? Almost like a Midwestern matriarchal sort of folk hero? Like, all the ladies with that last name may eventually become grandmas, but if someone refers to Grandma Forumcat it means folklore grandma, even if it’s said to someone who does indeed have a different grandmother of the family. Hell, it even refers to her in branches of the family that did not come from her! To be clear, she is actually either my great great grandmother or my great great great grandmother - I do not belong to a shoot of the family that’s that great at ancestry and the only person left alive now who knew her was a kindergartener when she died and there were already several generations calling her grandma at that point. And we have a tendency to just call all aunt/uncle variants and older distant cousins aunt or uncle and all younger relatives cousin and there has been a surprising amount of intra-family and regular adoption (and we’re pretty sure a couple of teen pregnancies that were obfuscated in this manner) so without sitting down as a huge team and writing it up and/or actually sorting out records, frankly a family tree will just not happen. So, that’s folklore grandma.

And she left behind hundreds and hundreds of recipes. They were scattered amongst my family members and many are now lost - she did, after all, die over half a century ago. The favourites were copied out and distributed among many members, though, including her sweet roll recipe, which is haunted. It cannot be fractioned, no matter what ethos of fractioning you use. The rolls just won’t turn out. They’ll burn before they should be done or won’t rise or get a weird residue… anything you can imagine going wrong with a baked good, that’s the roulette wheel you spin if you try to fraction this recipe, plus several you wouldn’t. There are plenty of her other recipes that just won’t turn out good if you fuck around with them (particularly if the fuckery is trying to make them healthier) but this is the one with the most dramatic and obvious effects. It will outright just defy physics to fuck your day and oven up if you try to make fewer sweet rolls than enough for the kids, everyone working on the farm plus take some home to their families, all visiting relatives, and the neighbours for when you’ll go past there on Sunday. My patriarchal family is, by and large, all very good cooks. Huge food culture, mostly sparked by folklore grandma. So, this isn’t a matter of people not knowing how to make them. It even happens to people she directly taught to make them, and reportedly her advice on how to make fewer rolls at a time was pretty much “don’t do that.”

So. Haunted. I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but I have watched these rolls turn out wrong in a dozen completely insensible ways for no reason at all (the recipe at full size is extremely labour intensive but far from fussy) and heard stories about dozens more, so every time I make them I just make all, like, four dozen cinnamon rolls and find homes for the extras. I can (and somewhat regularly have) set pots of water on fire; I’m not gonna fuck around on the haunted breakfast rolls.

[marveloussupernerd]

Yoosung is so under appreciated in this fandom >:( if you could write about cooking in the kitchen with Yoosung that would be fantastic >:)

YES poor sweet bby Yoosung. I get why ppl think he maybe doesn’t have a personality esp in other routes but also ... he do b a college student I don’t have a personality either JSJSJ

Cooking - Yoosung Kim

Summary: Yoosung is best boy. And best boyfriend. He wants to make you a special dinner since you just moved in with him and you offer to help

You had finally unpacked the last of your boxes. You were officially moved into Yoosung’s apartment. With all the threats of the hacker, which shouldn’t have been much of a big deal since Seven and V supposedly took care of them... but Yoosung wasn’t sure. He was stressed with you in that apartment. Still, it wasn’t until the next school year came along that he was looking for a new apartment to lease and offered to look for a larger one so you could move in.

You had stayed the night at Yoosung’s dozens of times, but this was different. The energy was different. You never had to worry about what time you were going home. It was like every second was a date. But also, it was going to be hard to stay focused working from home with him by your side. All an adjustment, but more than worth it to stay with your perfect boyfriend.

The two of you were sprawled out on the couch, exhausted but satisfied with your hard work moving everything in. Yoosung’s head rested on your shoulder; he pushed off from his position to look at you. “Can I make you dinner? Anything you want,” he offered.

“Oh it’s chill. We can just get a pizza.” The last thing you needed right now was a mess in the kitchen. Making food was way too much work.

“B-but!” He protested, his voice cracking, “this is our first night living in the same house together. And you want to celebrate it with pizza!?”

You shrugged. “I’m really craving pizza.”

“Have you ever made pizza?” Oh boy. It was like a lightbulb went off over his head. He was always overcomplicating things, but that’s one of the reasons you loved him so much.

“Of course. I feel like everyone’s done that at like a sleepover before.”

“You’ve done that at a sleepover!?” He seemed to not believe you. “I’ve... never done it before. But we could try! If you’re willing to help me out.”

You sighed, pushing yourself off the couch to stand up. “I would’ve been totally fine with just ordering but... of course I’ll show you. I don’t know how well I remember though.”

He was pulling up a recipe as you spoke, just in case you did forget a part or two. But it seemed like he would rather learn from you, as he set the phone face-down on the counter and focused on you, rolling up your sleeves. “First we need dough. I’m imagining you don’t have frozen pizza dough here.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“That’s okay! Technically we could make it from scratch but... you don’t have any yeast, do you?”

He shook his head no again, his ears heating up red. “I didn’t realize that was a thing to have.”

You giggled. “That’s okay! We can improvise.” He grabbed his phone while you turned to the fridge, sorting through to find anything that could be used as the crust.

“Got it!” You called, pulling out a roll of Pillsbury crescent roll dough. “This will work just fine. You wanna open it up and try and make it into a nice flat pizza shape?”

He took the roll from you eagerly, smacking it against the table to open it up. “I love this stuff. I think it’ll work pretty well.”

“Now while you do that... we need sauce. You have any sauce?” You turned back to look at him, tongue stuck out as he concentrated on smushing the sides of the dough together.

“Huh!?” He looked up at you. “Oh, yeah. It should be in the little side door thingy in the fridge.”

Well Ragù was admittedly not your first choice, but how different could pizza and pasta sauces be? (AN: as an Italian who makes both homemade... they rlly aren’t too different and I’ve def made pizza w pasta sauce before oop)

You set the jar of sauce next to Yoosung. “This is shaping up to be a very nice pizza. Now how about cheese?”

His grin on his face widened. “I’ve got a ton of different cheeses. Makes me feel fancy.” He abandoned his workstation to walk to the fridge with you, opening it up and opening a drawer which had just... wow... a lot of cheese. “We’ve got parmesean, mozzarella, brie, provolone, American...”

“Mozzarella. That’s the traditional kind.”

“The shredded kind or the string cheese kind?” He asked. You wanted to laugh but... oh boy he was serious.

“Shredded, Yoosung.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. You’re so sweet and cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” he pouted, tossing the bag of shredded cheese to the counter. “I’m very mature.”

“Of course you are,” you teased. “You do have like a million different kinds of cheeses.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes, then making his way back to the dough. It looked pretty good honestly. You grabbed a baking tray and set the dough on it. “Now we can add the sauce and start jazzing it up,” you instructed.

Yoosung got to work on the sauce. Or... opening the jar of sauce. He was putting a lot of muscle into it, but it was not working.

“You need some help, Baby?” You offered, batting your eyelashes at him so he wouldn’t get mad at the nickname.

“Yes,” he whined, passing the jar to you. “I can’t get it.”

You popped the jar open in a few tries. Granted, it was hard to open. He wasn’t absolutely crazy. “There ya go.”

He made his way behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “You’re so strong. And talented. And smart,” he complimented.

You leaned back into his touch. “So are you. That was tough to open.” You grabbed a spoon and put it in one of his hands that was on your waist. “Help me spread the sauce?” You asked, looking up at him innocently.

He couldn’t say no to your puppy dog eyes. The two of you dipped your spoons into the sauce, plopping down sauce and spreading it out across the dough. He got a little too violent with dropping sauce, splashing some on you by accident. He hadn’t noticed until you jumped, cringing.

“Aw Honey, you’ve got sauce on you!” He exclaimed, setting his spoon down and using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe it off your cheek. “Ah, I-“ he glanced anywhere but to look at you, still flustered by the intimacy of the action. He was so adorable; he had his arms tight around you but was embarrassed by wiping sauce off your face. He let out a sigh and put the sauce-coated thumb into his mouth, sucking off the sauce, his face bright bright red, his eyes looking anywhere but at you.

“I, uh, think the sauce is all done,” you told him, trying to put his attention elsewhere. He jumped, his hand leaving your hips, and made his way over to grab the cheese.

The two of you sprinkled a ridiculous amount of cheese on the pizza, making sure no square inch was uncovered. And with that, you were able to put it in the oven. You hopped up onto the counter to sit and wait, coaxing Yoosung by your side with a tilt of your head.

He stood to the side of your legs, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, later opting to loop them loosely around his neck. “We did pretty good, huh?” You commended, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“I think it was a great first meal. Well, I don’t know if it’ll taste good yet, but I had fun with it,” he nodded eagerly.

“Yoosung, I’m so happy to be here with you.” You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Me too.” He pulled you back in before you could completely move back to begin with, connecting your lips right on with his this time, one of his hands settling on your hip and the other on your thigh.

The timer sounded; the pizza was done! Yoosung’s face was bright red, as it always was after you kissed. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. He was just as sweet as always. He looked so cute putting on his oven mitts to pull the tray out of the oven. The pizza smelled good. You were just proud that you made something together.

[blkgirlcafe]

Brat Life Chronicles

Tried to keep the looks as open as possible but she definitely is black. Follow America Golden Boy, Steve Rogers as he deals with his spoiled brat of a girlfriend Delilah. A series of One shots that are just fun to write when I dont feel like working on my series. 

Masterlist

Characters: Steve Rogers x Delilah (Black OC)

WordCount: 1667

Warning: Smut, cursing, teasing, daddy kink

“Babe please…..” lip poked out, big doe eyes, whiny voice, usually she didn’t have to go this route to get her way but Steve was being an ass. 

“Delilah, baby stop.” Steve Rogers went back to reading the mission report he had to prep for. 

“Ugh fine.” She rolled her eyes, causing Steve to quirk an eyebrow at her, she was being disrespectful and she knew Steve wouldn’t go for that. 

Honesty she wasn’t asking much, just asking to take one of the private jets to go to a concert in Atlanta this weekend. 

“I’ll just ask Tony.” She started to walk away heading towards the elevator. 

Before she made it 5 steps, Steve picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. 

“Couldn’t stop when I asked, now you wanna drag Stark into this. I give you everything you ask for baby.”

“Expect for this.” She pouted. In for a penny in for a pound, she knew she was digging a hole that she wouldn’t be able to get out of. 

“Because you don’t need this, you and your friends already have first class tickets booked, a private car to pick you up and drive you around. VIP Seats and backstage passes, plus new clothes and spending money. I think you can do without this one things.”

“No.” She huffed as she was dropped on the bed. 

“Maybe you don’t need to go at all then Delilah, stay here with me, while I prepare for my mission.” 

“No Daddy! Please…” Delilah bit her bottom lips, trying to entice him. 

“You are such a fucking brat.” 

“Language Captain.”

He growled before advancing on her. 

They were an unlikely couple, and they met in an unlikely way. You would think Captain America saved her life or something but it all started with an Instagram like. 

Captain America had finally made it to Instagram, not that he ran it, Sam did but sometimes he liked to browse the app. 

He was on his explore page when he came across Delilah page, a picture of her in a cap and gown, graduating from college. 

Steve has liked it and left a comment out of encouragement. 

“Congratulations, much success on your future.”

Delilah has all but fainted when she saw it, but she took it a step farther and sent him a DM, telling him thank you and she hoped they would meet one day. 

Sam took over, telling her if she ever in NYC he would love to take her out for coffee. 

——

“Steve…” she moaned as her boyfriend sucked on her neck. 

“Hmm.” He hummed against her brown skin. 

“Please Daddy?” 

Her eyes fluttered close. 

“Please What?”

Steve licked a strip from her neck to her ear, sucking on the sensitive lobe. 

“Please, I want you.” 

“I know you do, girl, but you've been really bratty lately, you know I don’t like that.” Steve pulled away, leaving her frustrated. 

“Now pack for your trip.” 

Steve left Delilah on the bed, hot, wet, and frustrated but two could play that game. 

——

It was quiet, too quiet Steve thought. Delilah never went this long without wanting his attention unless…

He shot up, spilling papers all over the living room floor. He checked the bedroom first, bags half packed and clothes everywhere greeted him. Next he checked the bathroom and then finally the extra bedroom. He sighed. 

Living in Stark tower had its perks, like their private apartment, top of the line facilities, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. 

“Friday, where is Delilah?”

“Common area kitchen Captain Rogers.” 

Steve punched the bottom to take him to the common area of Avengers Tower. 

He smelt the brownies as soon as the door opened. He walked past Sam and Clint going straight to the kitchen. Tony looked over her shoulder as she stirred something. 

“That smells so good.” Tony said but to Steve it looked like he was smelling your neck. 

“Thanks, family recipe so I can’t tell you.” Delilah giggles. 

“Delilah.” 

Her name being called caused her to Jump, Tony his hand on the small of her back. 

“Yeah babe?” Her voice was sweet like honey but it was all an act. 

Delilah looked over to Steve to see him doing his signature jaw clenched that singled he was angry. 

“You need to finish packing.” 

It was a demand, a demand to get her ass back to their suite and now. 

“OK. Tony just pop these in the oven for 30 minutes and you’ll have the best brownies ever, save me a corner piece.”

“OK Princess.” Tony muttered. 

If looks could kill Tony would be dead, the way Steve was throwing daggers at him wasn’t lost on Delilah as she walked over to Steve. 

Once in the elevator Steve didn’t say anything to her and Delilah knew she fucked up big time, maybe she could clean it up. 

“Babe…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

“You never let me explain.” She whined. 

The elevator opened and she followed Steve out. 

“Explain what? Why you are prancing around Tony in basically nothing?”

“It’s a little more than nothing, all the important bits are covered.” 

That stopped Steve in his tracks, he turned to look at her up and down. She suddenly felt self conscious about her outfit. True the cotton shorts did little to cover her ass or thick thighs. The tank top she had on was super thin and tight and basically putting her breast on display. 

“Get to the room and clean that mess up, your trip is cancelled.” 

“What you can’t do that!”

“Yes I can and I just did now go Delilah before you get in more fucking trouble.”

Delilah rolled her eyes and went to their shared bedroom and began to put clothes away, as she stuffed her panties back into the drawer she came across a light blue lace teddy. 

Delilah quickly put it on before Steve caught her, finishing off her lips with some gloss because he loved it. 

She hoped no one had entered their shared living space as she crept down the hallway wanting to surprise the super soldier who could hear anything.  

When Delilah rounded the corner Steve was on the couch, laptop propped opened. 

“I can hear you Babe, you know that.” 

“Close your eyes, I got a surprise.”

Just as he started to protest Delilah hit him with a “Please Daddy.” And he did. 

She walked over to him, gently taking the laptop off his lap and setting it on the table. 

“You can open them now.” 

Delilah stood in front of him, proudly displaying her body for his eyes. 

“Fuck baby.” 

Steve's rough hands went to her waist, gliding down her hips and back up again. 

Steve pulled her down to his lap, her knees on either side of his thick thighs. 

“You like Daddy.” Delilah has changed the tone of her voice to be super sugary sweet and it was working. 

He melted under her as Delilah gently massages his shoulders. 

“You look gorgeous like you always do.” 

“Thank you baby. I’m Sorry for acting like that earlier.”

“Hmmm acting like what?”

Steve gently peppered kisses from her collarbone to the top of her breast. 

“Being a brat.” she moaned.

“Apology accepted, and yes you can still go, and yes I will see about getting you a private jet, you know I cant say no to you for long.”

Delilah groaned as his hands gripped her ass, picking her up. 

“Tell Daddy thank you.” Steve muttered against her neck as he walked them to the bedroom. 

“Thank you Daddy.” she purred. 

Steve laid her gently on the bed, reaching between her legs and ripping the delicate lace, cool air rushing to her heated core. 

Steve got on his knees, kissing her thighs before pushing his face into her pussy. America Golden Boy loved to eat pussy, he ate pussy like his life depended on it. Some dudes got mad when they couldn't get their dick sucked, but Steve turned into a whiny person if he couldn't wrap his lips around her clit. 

“Fuck baby.” Delilah ran her hands through his golden locks, loving that he had grew it out a little. 

The nasty slurping sounds he made turned her on more, A long lick from her clit that ended with him dipping his tongue into her wet hole. 

Delilah moaned out lout, calling out his name. Steve slipped a thick finger into her, hooking it, finger rubbing back and forth against her spot. Delilah tried to move away from his mouth as her first orgasm approached, but Steve pulled her back onto his mouth, wanting her to come right on his face. 

“Good girl Delilah.” Steve cooed at her. He stood up, finger lazily running up and down her slit as his other hand unbuckled his pants, pushing them down. He removed his hand from her and she whined, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it down, stepping out his sweats and boxers. Steve crawled onto the bed towards her, covering her body with his. Delilah wrapped her legs around his waist, his hard dick poking her thigh. 

“Daddy please…” Steve cut her off, catching her in a heated kiss. Catching her off guard he pushed into her wet walls. 

Nails dug into his muscled back as he pushed in balls deep in the first stroke. 

“I...better...not...see...you...around...tony...again…” each word meet with a deep stroke. 

“Yes Daddy!!!”

Mouth gaped open in a silent scream Delilah had her second orgasm, squeezing Steve dick as he trusted in her one final time, cumming deep inside of her. 

“Good girl.” Steve kissed her face until their breathing calmed down, going to lay on the side of her. 

“Want me to finish packing for you?” Steve could tell she was about to go to sleep. 

“Mmmhmm please.” 

Steve gave Delilah a kiss on the forehead before getting up and finding his boxers.

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals....Chapter Fifty-One

Chris plopped down in a chair just as his mother walked onto her porch, “Boy, if you don’t stop plopping down like that, you’re gonna mess up my furniture.”

“As much as I paid for it, it better not break just because I sit down hard.”

Joyce chuckled and sat down next to him before handing him a glass of iced sweet tea, “now what has you over here so early in the morning? I thought you’d be with your girls.

“I need your advice on something.”

“Robyn?”

“Yes”

“What happened?”

“I stayed over a few nights ago and she had this dream that completely freaked her out.”

“Ok? And?”

“She freaked out about us being married.”

“What do you mean by freaked out?”

“She was literally sweating and hyperventilating. I don’t know what to do and she won’t talk to me about it.”

“I mean what exactly is she supposed to say?”

“Ma, something is wrong if simply dreaming about being married makes her feel like that.”

“To you, that means something is wrong. She just might have cold feet, that’s all.”

“I didn’t even ask her yet and she’s going crazy. I can’t imagine if I had proposed how’d she feel.”

“Chris, you have to understand that this is still new to her. Y’all as a couple. Y'all as parents. It’s all something she never even thought about happening and it’s only been a year since you came back. You have to give her time. Just because you’re ready and raring to go doesn’t mean she is. You gotta give her her space to get comfortable with this.”

“I do give her space, Mama.”

“And that’s great but you have to keep giving it to her until she’s ready to invite you in. The last thing you want is her to resent you for marrying too soon.”

“How long?”

“As long as it takes, Chris. You have to trust that she's not going anywhere just as much as she does. I know you and you think the only way to ensure her staying is to marry her and that’s not true. She gave you time and gave you a second chance. She’s never interfered in how you processed everything. Give her that same courtesy.”

“I’m worried about her, Mama.”

“I know and I’m sure she does too but she has to come into it in her own time. If that means a few sweaty dreams and a little worry, that's just what it means.”

Chris sighed, “you’re right.”

“Chris, did your therapist ever tell you how impatient you are?”

“She did once or twice.”

Joyce chuckled, “Angel, you love hard and fully until you can’t anymore and there’s nothing wrong with that but you can’t expect everybody to love the same way you do. We all become ready in our own time. Moving on to something like this may be very easy for you but you’ve always aired on the impulsive side of things. Robyn’s not like that. She’s cautious and analytical so she’s not gonna just go wherever her emotions take her, you know?”

“I know.”

“Look, she’s still here. After everything you’ve been through and probably a very untimely marriage proposal, she’s still here, willing to get ready for you. To me, that says all you need to know.”

“It wasn’t quite a proposal, just a conversation but either way I see your point.”

Joyce rubbed his hand and Chris lifted hers up to kiss the back of it, “still a charmer.”

“Gotta keep my skills sharp.”

Joyce laughed, “where’s my babies?”

“Weekend sleepover.”

“Oh. Can you believe how quickly they recovered after their accident?”

“I’m just glad it was just blood clots and not something even more serious.”

“True. Just a few weeks of recovery and they were back.”

“Yea.”

“You sound a little weird, what’s wrong?”

“Just thinking, that was the first time I got to really be a dad, dad, you know. Helping them eat and stuff while they were in the hospital, it was great.”

“You wish you were there when they were babies.”

“I do think about it sometimes.”

“That’s understandable. Ever talk to your therapist about that?”

“Yea, that’s how I really got to forgive Robyn about not telling me. I mean what’s done is done but I can’t help but to wonder what they were like.”

“They were very much like you, now that I think about it. I don’t know how I missed it back then.”

“What you mean?”

“You were a clingy baby. You just wanted to be held and up under me and your family all the time. Not much of a crier, more of a whiner. The twins were like that for the first few months then I guess their Robyn genes kicked in because around 7 months, they didn’t want to be bothered with anybody.”

Chris laughed, “that sounds like Robyn.”

“The independent streak kicked in early. As soon as they could pick up their own food, they didn’t want nobody feeding them or nothing.”

“I can see that.”

“You know Chris, those girls adore you and I think it’s good that you aren’t trying to parent them from the past. You’re doing a great job, Angel.”

“Thanks Mama.”

“You going back to see Robyn?”

“Yea. I’m gonna drop by. Hoping it's not still awkward.”

“Why would it be awkward?”

“She’s been kind of distant since the dream incident. I think she’s embarrassed.”

“Well then, make her not embarrassed.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Be you. That usually works.”

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

Robyn grabbed a pot holder as she opened the oven to pull out a cookie sheet laden with fresh baked cookies. She set the pan on the stove and froze as she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise.

“Chris, is that you?”

She heard a chuckle behind her and turned around to see him leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, “Hey Baby. Your senses are good.”

“Have to be. What you doing here? I thought you were spending time with Mama Joyce.”

“I’ve been there all morning but I wanted to see my woman.”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “well, I’m not doing anything.”

“Didn’t say we were going to do anything. I can’t just want to be around you.”

“Of course. I just figured- never mind. How’s Mama?”

“She’s good. She asked about you.”

“She did? That’s nice.”

“So what you up to?”

“Had a taste for cookies so I made some.”

“Oooh, can I taste?”

Robyn playfully sighed as Chris walked over to her, “I guess so.”

Chris poked her side then opened his mouth. Robyn rolled her eyes as she picked up a still warm cookie and held it to his lips. Chris took a huge bite then moved back, “this is good, Babe. What kind?”

“White chocolate macadamia nut.”

“Taste better than store bought.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. “

Robyn took a sizable bite of the cookie before handing the rest over to Chris, who popped it into his mouth, “this does taste good. I was just trying out a recipe but this isn’t bad.”

“I was wondering if you mind me hanging out over here today.”

“Doing what?”

“We don’t have to do anything. I just feel like being up under you that’s all.”

“I appreciate the honesty but aren’t you gonna be bored?”

“Never that.”

“I don’t know Chris.”

“Robs, you’ve been avoiding me and I don’t like it.”

“I have not.”

“You absolutely have. For the last few days, you’ve been acting really funny with me. You keep finding every reason to not be alone with me and you avoid any serious topics. Are you still shook about that dream?”

“I was not shaken up, it was just weird.”

“Weird enough for you to not talk about it. Any other time, we’d just laugh and move on but I feel like that dream really affected you.”

“Chris, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“When it starts affecting our relationship, yes it does.”

“That dream wasn’t right and it wasn’t appropriate.”

“Wasn’t appropriate for who? Babe, what is going on?”

“Cutting Michael out like that wasn’t right.”

“Robyn, it was just a dream.”

“A dream that I deep down wished was real and that is disrespectful to my marriage and my deceased husband. I loved that man and he was there for me and I should’ve never even had a thought about replacing him. Dream or not.”

“Robyn.”

“No, I don’t wanna hear that it’s ok or nothing like that. That was fucked up of me so yes it is bothering me.”

“When’s the last time you visited Michael?”

“What?”

“When was the last time you visited your husband’s grave?”

“I never saw it.”

“What?”

“I never saw it. The last time I saw him was at the viewing and I never even walked up to see the casket. I didn’t want to remember him like that so I didn’t go to the burial either. After the viewing, I got on a plane to Barbados and didn’t come back for almost 6 weeks.”

“Do you know where it’s located?”

“Yea, I still have the paperwork from the funeral home. Why?”

“We’re going.”

“What? No we’re not.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this. You’re conflicted and until you get some things off your chest, you always will be. You wanna be mad or break up with me because of this, fine but do it after we get back. Where’s the paperwork?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Robyn, don’t make me call your former mother-in-law. I still remember her phone number.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

“Chris, where is this coming from?”

“I am worried about you and I know there has to be something else going on in your head about marriage other than not being ready. Not being ready wouldn’t have you sweating in your dreams and feeling like you're being disrespectful to someone who’s been deceased for years. I understand you loved your husband and I would never want to diminish those feelings but you are holding onto something and you need to talk about it. If you won’t talk about it with me, talk about it with the person it has something to do with and I have a sneaky suspicion that this has something to do with Michael.”

“You don’t know me well enough to-”

“I know you too well and we don’t have to be a couple for twenty years for me to know that something is wrong. I want you to not only be ready for marriage but I don’t want you to regret it because you feel guilty or conflicted down the road.”

“Chris.”

“Walking or over my shoulder?”

“What?”

“Either you walk to the car or I’ll carry you but we’re going.”

“You know what? Fine.”

Robyn tossed down the pot holder and grabbed a plastic container and dumped all the cookies in it before placing on a lid and tucking it in the back corner of the counter. She turned off the oven and brushed past Chris with a shove to his shoulder. Chris chuckled and shook his head as he followed behind her.

45 minutes later, Chris parked on a tree-lined dirt road. The cemetery was small so they would have to walk most of the way. Chris turned to look at Robyn, who was staring down at her hands in her lap. He touched her shoulder and she jumped, “we’re here, Babe.”

She looked up and out the window, “Chris, I don’t want to do this.”

“And you know if it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t make you. Throughout my divorce, the one thing you always pushed upon me to do was be honest with myself. I’m employing you to do the same. Robyn, there is something going on here and if you don’t confront it, you’ll never get over it.”

“Who says there’s something to get over?”

“Your actions, Baby.”

“Chris, I love you and I want to be with you. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“It's enough but you deserve more. You deserve happily ever after. You deserve forever. And even if it ends up not with me, I still want you to have that. I see the conflict in your face every time we talk about marriage, like you want to do it but something is holding you back and if it's not me, it’s something else or someone else. I never doubted that you loved me. You wouldn't be here if you didn’t but you’re short changing yourself from something I feel you want to do.”

“I don’t like this.”

“And I don’t like the sadness I see in your eyes sometimes,” Chris gently held her chin in his hand, “I could live with it but I wouldn’t be doing my job as your man if I did.”

He smoothed his thumb across the crux of her chin as she stared at him for a few moments, “it hurts me when I can’t fix something for you but I know it hurts you more when you can’t fix it either. All I want to do is help and if I gotta push you a little bit to do that, I will. Even if you end up hating me for it.”

“I could never hate you, Chris,” Robyn remarked softly.

Chris smiled and pecked her lips, “you wanna at least try this with me? Maybe you just need to talk to him and you’ll feel better.”

“I’ll feel crazy talking to a dead man.”

“Robs, just like I tell our daughters, just because he isn’t physically here doesn’t mean he isn’t still around. I’m sure if he loved you like you say, he’s still watching over you.”

“You’re being really understanding about this.”

“Anybody who protected my girls when I didn’t, is alright with me.”

“You’re sweet.”

“And still slightly jealous but I’m a man and I’ve gotten over it.”

Robyn laughed and Chris caressed her cheek, “there’s the sound I’ve been missing.”

“You mind if I do this alone?”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

“Thanks Babe.”

“Not a problem.”

Robyn sighed as she climbed out of the car and started walking.

Michael’s headstone was right underneath a large Blue Chinese Wisteria tree. Robyn walked over and brushed some dirt off the marble before standing to the side and looking down at it. 

“I guess this should’ve happened a long time ago, huh?” She murmured softly, “I know you’re probably up there mad as hell but still understanding why I never came here to see you. I never did deal with death well but of course you know that. I always thought it was odd that you knew me as well as you did though we weren’t together as long. You listened to all my childhood stories, even suggested I make up with Chris before you passed. I don’t know if you just wanted me to have someone after you were gone or if you really believed me and him should’ve patched things up. Funny, sometimes I think you sent him back to me. Even though it was like in the worst way possible.”

Robyn chuckled as she wiped tears from her eyes, “I love that man. I’ve always loved him but I loved you too and I don’t know if that means I wasn’t giving you all of me or if I’m not giving him all of me and I feel so damn guilty about it. Mike, I’m not ready to be a wife because I’m not ready to be a widow again. You came into my life when I least expected it and then you were gone. Chris has been a part of my life for a long time and I’m not strong enough to lose him too. Our babies adore their father so much and I wish I was strong enough to grieve you and move on at the same time like them but I can’t do it. And I don’t know what that says about me. And this feels so cliche and rom-com like but I need to know if you’re ok with this. That you don’t hate me for loving someone from my past this much. That I’m not making a mistake. That I’m strong enough for this because I don’t know if I am but if you do, I’ll believe it.”

“You know he always wanted you to love again.”

Robyn turned around at the sound of a familiar voice and quickly wiped her face, “Ms. Lisa?”

“Hi Robyn.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting some people. This is family burial land.”

“You did tell me that before. Sorry for not asking-”

Lisa waved away the apology, “you’ve never had to ask to be here, you know better than that.”

“Yea but it’s been a while and-”

“And you’ve been living. Robyn, I never expected you to stop living and Michael didn’t either. He figured out about your feelings for Chris even though you never told him.”

“What?”

“Never stopped him from loving you or from loving your children. He knew you loved him but you had a life before him that didn’t just vanish because you were upset. Surely, you didn’t think he was that naive.”

“No Ma’am.”

“The family may not have known to the extent your relationship with the twins’ birth father but then again Michael would never betray a confidence and it wasn’t any of our business. He never doubted you and he never wanted you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Physically, no but emotionally is a different story. Everything he did in those last 15 months was to make it easier for you to move on. He didn’t want you to worry about anything, not even what flowers to get on his wreath. I never knew he told you to make up with Chris but knowing my son, he knew if there was anyone you needed once he was gone, Chris was probably gonna be that person.”

“He never knew him.”

“Yea but Michael knew you and that’s all that was needed.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because clearly somebody needed to tell you. If I had known you were holding onto all of this, I would’ve told you sooner but then again maybe you wouldn’t have been ready to hear it back then.”

“Probably not.”

“What brought you here?”

“Chris.”

“Ah. He seems like a really good guy.”

“He is.”

“That’s good. You and the girls need that.”

“Ms. Lisa, this is weird.”

Lisa laughed, “it doesn’t have to be. Listen, Michael can’t talk back to you but he hears you and he knows your heart. You loved him and you lost him, that’s life. You can’t dwell on that forever. Besides moving on doesn’t take that away.”

“I guess you’re right. “

“I know I am.”

Robyn laughed, “I guess I should get going then.”

“I’ll see you around, Sweetie.”

“Thanks Ms. Lisa.”

“Not a problem. I’ll come by and pick up the girls sometime. I miss them.”

“You’re always welcome.”

They hugged and Robyn left Ms. Lisa standing at Michael’s grave. 

As she made it closer to the car, she noticed Chris leaning against the hood and smiled. He stood upright just as she stopped in front of him, “how you feel?”

“Better.”

“Told you so.”

“I guess we should talk.”

“We don’t have to. If you wanna keep what you told him private, I’ll understand.”

“For some reason, I think he would like for you to know.”

“How about I make us dinner and you tell me all about it?”

“You’re gonna cook?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I have got to see this.”

Chris playfully poked her before opening the passenger door for her, “Smart ass.”

[fandomplethora]

(ummm, i’m not sure what inspired to make this post (besides the fact that i have been listening to this artist on a near constant basis now) but here we go anyways;;;)

MYSTIC MESSENGER CHARACTERS AS HOBO JOHNSON SONGS

Hyun (Zen) - 3% 

“you should go and quit your job and make all of those dreams come true. how is your self esteem? huh? that's important in what you're about to do. don't talk to your friends, their opinions hold so much weight. and that doesn't make sense. even your family, parents just don't understand. make the time. drop school, and people, and work to play music all night. you'll make a dollar an hour, at least you'll like your life. and roll with the punches even when it feels like you're getting fucking jumped but you're a real bad judge of it. hold on tight, boy. might be a fuckin', hell of a ride. but, but, but, they said it's a three-percent chance...that I'm gonna make it. that's a little bit less than what it is in my mind but it's ok, I think I can take it. they said it's a three-percent, my friends, that's what they said. and then I sat there and thought about it and almost believed it for a sec. but I think that they'll love me.”

Yoosung - Mario and Link

“mario's never getting some and link's never getting some, so why would princesses love me? i'm not really making moves, I'm just kinda breathing. i work at fucking pizza places just so I keep eating. (that's the type of shit)...thats the type of shit to make be buy a flask for 25 and fill it up with takka vodka only 4.99...yester-year yes-sir-please let me get the recipe, to not being broke. fuck I'd really love to be a king, but mario and link should've showed that perseverance is not the end all to everything. the princess in the hallway with a robe, I asked "do you for coffee and scones and she says "no!". but I just killed a fucking dragon though! with this sword that I made from the words of my soul. I just killed a fucking dragon though, I just killed a fucking dragon though. but its whatever I don't even care that much.”

Jaehee - Peach Scone

“...disregard every time I call you pretty. though it's meant sincerely it's just my imagination drifting...so I fall to ground, collect myself and get ready to take over your heart...or at least your spare time. and I love the thought of being with you. or maybe it's the thought of not being so alone. the second one's way sadder than the first one...we should go get a cup of coffee...I don't know what to tell you if I try to confess my love for- scones! i just wanna tell you real quick please, shh, I love- these scones! ...but she, you know, she is just so sweet and she cared about me a lot when no one else cared about me and I think that's really nice. really you know, she's just a, she's just a peach. she's a peach scone. and I love the thought of being with her, I just really hope that she doesn't get hurt.”

Jumin - Father

“my dad taught me 'bout the story 'bout the birds and the bees. when the bees turn into wasps and take half of everything. he sounded sure, that a bird doesn't need a full nest but a bed for our bird heads to rest...he told me son, beware, of the monsters that roam the depths of your head. sometimes they'll make you real sad or or real real mad, or real real jealous and that's real real bad. boy, breathe...my father's married to a shape shifting monster who can sometimes take the form of a really really really nice woman. and although it seems super fucking frightening, sometimes this scary monster makes a really really great vanilla pudding. he has courage but sometimes your courage isn't quite the kryptonite as the monster runs rampant through the house. sometimes your courage makes you feel strong but it seems as if the monster eats your muscles all along, fucking pickin' out your self-respect right out its scary teeth. her breath smells like pride of self and other men she used to meet. and the monster doesn't sleep - just schemes and fiends on the next tasty meal it gets to eat, it gets to eat.” 

Saeyoung (Luciel) (707) (Seven) - The Ending

“she said, "you're like the weird...guy...in all the movies, who turns into the hero at the end and gets the girl" and I was like, "shut your mouth". but I'm gonna take over...the world as soon as everybody dies. i'm gonna take over your heart as soon as I get the balls to try. Ima re-arrange the alphabet and then take "U" and "I" and put a bit of space between 'em and hope that nobody cries. ...Ima be a nice guy might fuck around, it make a difference. Ima hope for the best, but prepare for the worst...I hope that you don't fall into their schemes and what they say, when you look them in their eyes, that they don't choose to look away...I hope that you don't fall into my schemes or what I say. when you look me in the eye, I'll look you dead into the face 'cause you don't deserve to be fucked with unless you're a fucking asshole...yeah, I ain't shit I ain't shit compared to them, right? I ain't shit. and I know she wants a piece of this wit (no!) and I know she wants a piece of this wit. my wit, my wit, my wit...” 

Jihyun (V) - Romeo and Juliet

“we're just romeo & juliet but getting drunk and eating percocets. but just to ease the stress but soft what light, thru yonder window breaks it is the east - but juliet just puked off the balcony. how romantic. nothing like getting drunk and getting manic on a motherfucking monday, i brush the bangs behind her lovely little ear as she describes in detail how the end is truly near. wow, and I'm sure that we can do this for forever or until we drink the poison, 'cause she sees some cloudy weather. ...dear shakespeare, could you write a happy ending please? we just deserve a happy ending please, please. ...and every sting from every teardrop from every ring at every pawn shop. ...but dear mom, conversations from a couch haven't ever felt the same...my mom was made from adam's rib and the marriage went south...but dad loves to shout really loud. loud enough to knock the lamps and dressers to the ground. in my memory, i can hear chopin's nocturnes playing in the background, a slow trainwreck, you'll close your eyes, but forever hear the sound, and boy, it's tough. ‘cause that’s the sound of people falling out of love.” 

Saeran (Unknown) (Ray) - Jesus Christ

“jesus christ seems super nice, i wonder if he'd save me. i've been on the wrong side of a bunch of arguments lately. and jesus christ seems super nice, i wonder if he'd love me. how come I only wonder when I'm sad or really hungry? jesus christ, you're super nice but don't expect much from me. I would kneel down, but I'm afraid that I would just feel nothing. praise god and other things that don't make sense to puny minds, like ours, designing roller coasters that almost always seem to fall apart. ain't it fun, ain't it fun, ain't it fun knowing that. that one day, you know, I fly to the sky, to the sun? and jesus christ, you're super nice. so I'll write a song about it. or that no one ever knowing for always claiming they're about it. press "ignore" on both sides that always claim to know that they're so sure. or just not be a giant fucking prick and enjoy the show. I'll enjoy the show if I'm not a giant prick, does that just mean that I am saved? jesus christ, you're super nice, i'm sure that you could love me. even if I don't go to church every sunday. jesus christ, you're super nice, how could you let me burn? if I'm not murdering people, then smashing their fucking urn. but jesus christ, you're super nice, how could you let me burn? but if I go to hell, I'll grit my teeth and get to work.” 

? (Vanderwood) - Demarcus Cousins and Ashley *note: this one was more difficult because we are not shown much of vanderwood currently in the game though i do consider him a pivotal character - and one i want to get to know more as a player. we know vanderwood is a caring guy who can be rough around the edges - he’s also funny, awkward and, personally, charming. so, i look at this as him relating how he does care for those around him while comparing it to other shit he has seen. okay, analysis done. bye.

“I'm not a nice guy (he's not a nice guy). I go to jail sometimes (he goes to jail sometimes). but I am slowly getting better ever since a little lady wrote me such a lovely letter. I love breathing...I love drinking, but not enough to ever have to go to all those stupid meetings (let’s go)...I- I love you like the dog hates the leash and the leash loves the dog, like I love nothing else at all. love you like my dad loved my mom before they realized they don't love each other at all...I love you like bosses love to talk a lot of shit and like getting really mad when I quit, what? I love you like the bird hates november or just really really rainy windy weather. I love you like america loves to fuck things up and cops love to do things that are super unnecessary...and I love you like the stars love lonely eyes on seven consecutive friday nights.”

Mina (Rika) - Creve Coeur 1 

"hi," says the girl with the right eyes that pairs pretty well when she hits you with the soft smile. you can kinda tell that something's going on, but she's like a skrillex song that never drops, she'll never talk. she'll never talk about the feelings that she felt today. better kept inside of a fence, inside of a cage, inside of a safe. that's safe for her 'cause they just hurt. and she don't know why that god sauntered. I hope he's trying. she said, "I hope he's trying. do you think he's trying?" then I said, "I don't know" but I asked her, "what’s wrong?" she just nods her head. and then I asked her, "what's wrong?" and she said...hold me closely. I don't think you should love me. I always feel so lonely knowing that nothing will ever last forever. sorry, you're much too late, much too late. ("you are so late")...she holds her breath all day and fucking gasps for air at night. she promised she would love me but only 'til the morning time. sorry, you're, you're much too late. you're much too late, you're much too- sorry, you're much too late- much too..."

MC - ? (MC is more difficult...I almost can find lines from various songs but it came down to these two.)

#2 - Mover Awayer (and it’s mainly for this part only.)

“fear  the man who lives without love and  the lover who lives without fear. fear the man who always wants to fight, he's not a talker. fear  the talker who never wants to fight, he's got no guts. fear the man who knows he's gonna die so he cries every night and just denies his life's beauty. and  fear the man who has heaven in his plans, so he gets so complacent that he doesn't call his family. fear the man who doesn't understand that there's a million fish in the sea, but fear the girl who he really thinks is a different species, she'll rip your heart out. ...makes my Mondays feel like Fridays (give me a break)...makes my Ruby Tuesdays taste like Benihanas (give me a break) and all I've really wanted was for us to get along.”

#1 - Typical Story (I genuinely won’t even put the lyrics for this song because it is more about the theme and feel of the song itself - as MC is the only one “playing” and going through these character’s “stories”. Casual, Deep or Another. So, I will just recommend listening to it and reading the artist’s notes on it for why I picked it as number one for MC’s song.)

[lamptracker]

Scavenger Hunt (hastily thrown-together fic)

The warning’s there in the title, kids. This is a two-days-late birthday present for @the-quackson-claxon so I can’t guarantee it’ll be any good BUT here it is anyway.

FIC: Scavenger Hunt

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Female Reader

Summary: For your birthday, Harrison sets up a scavenger hunt; with Tom’s help, you revisit the most memorable spots from all of your relationship’s important milestones.

And happy belated birthday, Kyli!!

**

You blink slowly as your eyes adjust to the morning light. You’re still tired, not quite ready to be awake, but today is your birthday and you’re excited.

You roll over to wake up your boyfriend, Harrison… but he’s not in bed. Instead, an envelope is resting atop his pillow. Curiously, you open it:

Happy birthday, darling! The handwritten note inside reads. Thought I’d send you on a little scavenger hunt for your birthday today. Go take a shower real quick; your first clue will be hanging on the outfit I’ve picked out for you today. See you soon! Love, Harrison <3

Laughing, you head into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Once you’re out and dried off, you go to your closet, looking for the outfit Harrison has thrown together for you. You sigh with relief when you see it’s a simple flowered sundress and strappy sandals. You take off the envelope hanging from the hanger and read your first clue:

Clue number one - I hope you find this bitchin’

You won’t miss it - it’s in the middle of the kitchen :)

You crack up laughing again as you quickly get dressed, brush your hair, and do your makeup (just a fast, simple look for today). You tiptoe into the kitchen, where you’re greeted by a curious sight:

There, in the middle of the kitchen, is a giant cake. It’s not a real cake - probably cardboard or something, covered in construction paper.

“Harrison, if you’re in there, this was the worst scavenger hunt ever,” you say.

Just then, the top of the cake rips open…and out jumps Harrison’s best friend, Tom Holland.

“Happy birthday, (y/n)!” Tom exclaims; you burst into giggles yet again. “I’m going to read you your second clue, ready?”

“I guess,” you say, between laughs.

Tom dramatically clears his throat before reading out the second clue: “Clue number two, hope this is okay. Tom is going to drive you around today. Wait, I am? Oh, okay, yeah. Um… anyway: I hope this isn’t getting old yet, but tell him to take you to the place we first met.”

You smile to yourself as you recall the very first time you and Harrison met.

“Tom,” you say, “take me to the grocery store, would you?”

Tom scrunches up his nose. “The grocery store?”

“He didn’t tell you about that? It’s how we first met. I was trying a new recipe and needed a can of chickpeas, there was one can left and they were on the bottom shelf. He was in the same aisle, went for the same can of chickpeas. We bumped foreheads when we went for it, he felt so terrible he let me have the chickpeas. But I didn’t want him to leave empty-handed, so…”

“...you gave him your number. Yeah, I remember now. That’s bloody adorable, really.” Tom offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You loop your arm through his and he guides you to the car; you buckle your belt and he starts driving.

“So,” Tom says as he drives you to the store, “how old are you, anyway?”

“Tom, didn’t your mother ever teach you the three things you never ask a lady?”

Tom sighs. “Her age, her weight, and whether or not she’s pregnant.”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re not a lady, you’re (y/n).”

“Just drive, ya div.”

Tom chuckles as he pulls into a parking space at the store. The two of you get out and head straight for the canned goods aisle. On the bottom shelf: Exactly one can of chickpeas.

“How much you wanna bet he bought every can of chickpeas on the shelf just to make this happen?” Tom asks.

“I’d be making a lot of hummus then.” You pick up the lone can and turn it over, finding your third clue taped to the bottom:

Clue number three, now you mustn’t be late

Is located where we had our first date.

(PS: Tell Tom i did not buy all the chickpeas)

“He says he didn’t buy all the chickpeas,” you say, “and now you’re taking me to Subway.”

“You had your first date at Subway?” Tom asks incredulously.

“He’d made reservations at that cute little Italian place on 83rd,” you explain as you walk back to Tom’s car. “But when we got there, the health department had shut it down.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that. E.Coli outbreak, was it?”

“Something like that. Anyway, all the nice places were booked, so… we went to Subway. That one just up the street from where that Italian place used to be.”

“Used to be? They never opened back up?”

“Oh, no, they did. But a week after that there was a fire, so much damage they had to condemn it.”

“Grease fire?”

“Angry cook mad he didn’t paid while they were shut down.”

Tom shakes his head. “Yikes.”

The drive to Subway is a little longer than the one to the grocery store, so Tom puts on his favorite “Nothing but 90s” playlist and the two of you sing along, loudly and off-key.

Once you get to Subway, you walk in; the manager is waiting by the door with a takeout box full of cookies - raspberry cheesecake, your favorite.

“You must be (y/n),” they say, handing you the box. “Happy birthday! These have already been paid for, plus there’s a note on the bottom for you?”

“Thank you,” you reply, carefully detaching the note as you hand the box to Tom.

Clue number four - I hope you don’t miss

Go to the spot where we had our first kiss

(PS: Tom can have a cookie if he wants one, he’ll whine if you don’t share)

“I will not,” Tom says, in a voice that comes very close to whining.

Laughing, you open the lid of the box; Tom takes a cookie.

“Let me guess,” he mumbles between bites of cookie, “your first kiss was someplace really stupid, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head. “I…” but you sigh. “Okay, fine. It was in front of Gamestop.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” You giggle as you take a bite of a cookie. “His Xbox controller broke, Monty might have been involved. So we went to buy a new one; as we were walking out my mom called and said my aunt was coming for a visit. I hadn’t seen her in probably two years. I was so excited I hugged him and then I just… kissed him. Right there, on the sidewalk, in front of Gamestop. He did that thing, you know, where he just kind of froze. And as I was vomiting out an apology he grabbed my face and kissed me again.”

Tom nods as he drives toward Gamestop. “Again, adorable. And not nearly as stupid as I thought.”

You just roll your eyes, singing along to the 90s playlist once more.

Once at Gamestop, you quickly dash inside to where the Xbox controllers are; sure enough, you find a note taped to one.

“Can’t wait for this one,” Tom scoffs.

You shoot Tom the nastiest glare you can muster; if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

“I’m just saying!” Tom throws his hands up in self-defense. “His rhymes could use a little work, I mean…”

“I think they’re sweet.” You untape the note and read it aloud:

Your next-to-last clue is here, I hope they’re not turds

You’ll be going to the first place I said those three little words

(PS: I’m sure Tom is making fun of my poetry skills; tell him to bugger off)

Tom’s eyes grow wide. “How did he…”

“Either he just knows you really well or you’re that predictable.”

Tom just shakes his head. “So what weird place am I taking you to this time?”

“It’s not weird, it’s… unconventional. And you’re taking me to the emergency department at the hospital.”

Tom blinks rapidly for a moment. “Okay, I’m definitely sure I don’t want to know.” He waits for you to climb into the car and buckle your seat belt before driving off yet again.

You giggle a little as you pull two more cookies out of the box from Subway, offering one to Tom (who willingly accepts it). “I’d sprained my ankle - it was really stupid how it happened, I was carrying laundry down the steps to take to the laundromat and I missed a step. Harrison was at a fitting for Joshua Kane but he ran out of it just to take me to the hospital. As we were leaving and he was helping me into the car I thanked him and said something like, ‘Oh, you didn’t have to drop what you were doing just for me.’ He looked me in the eye, smiled, and said: ‘Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I love you.’” You tear up a little at the memory. “And oh my God, Tom, it was like time stopped. But in the best possible way.”

Tom looks over at you, smiling warmly. “I remember that night. He came back to our apartment absolutely on cloud nine. I asked him what happened and he said, ‘Well, (y/n) sprained her ankle and I told her I loved her.’ I was trying to come up with some witty comeback when then he goes, ‘Don’t worry, she loves me too.’ He literally did not stop smiling all night. I think that - oh, we’re here.”

You’re about to ask Tom exactly what he meant by “I think that” when you spot an envelope sticking out of the flowers surrounding the water fountain in front of the emergency department. Wasting no time, you rip it open and read the final note:

Well love, if Tom was making fun of my poetry skills he has a right to

I’m sick of writing these, but i’ll never be sick of you.

This is the last clue (so I guess we both win)

Head to the place where I asked you to move in.

“Oh, even I know this one,” Tom says. “The park, right?”

You nod. “Right there by the pond, yeah. He had this big speech all planned out, but by the time he got around to it he was so nervous he just blurted it out.”

“Sounds about right. He was so scared that I was going to be upset that he was moving out. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I like you, and I like you and Harrison together. He’s been so much happier since you came along, and since he’s my best friend I want him to be that happy all the time. Did he ever tell you I’m the one that found your apartment?”

You laugh. “That explains why we live within walking distance of you and Harry, I guess.”

“Well, I can’t have him too far away.” Tom pulls the car into a parking space, quickly texting someone after he turns the engine off. “Here we are. Harrison says this is where I leave you. So… happy birthday. I’ll have a real present for you later today.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Tom.” You lean over and give him a hug.

“It’s no problem, really.” Tom gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

You climb out of the car, cookies in hand, and head to the little gazebo near the pond. You gasp when you’re finally close enough to see it:

Harrison is waiting there for you, sitting at a little picnic table. He’s prepared a picnic lunch for the two of you; the table has a red-and-white checkered cloth on it and a few votive candles lit.

“Happy birthday, darling,” Harrison says softly as you approach him. “I see you’ve brought dessert. There are some left for me, right?”

You giggle. “I only gave Tom two, plus I only had a couple, so… what’s all this?”

“Just wanted to do something special for your birthday. Make it really unforgettable.”

“So far so good.”

Harrison had made sure to pack all of your favorites for lunch; the two of you chat and eat. You’ve been together for nearly two years, and yet you still never run out of things to talk about. He hands you a few presents to open - a book you’ve been eyeing, a gift card to your favorite store, a new case for your phone. “The big present is for later, if you catch my drift,” he says, winking; you burst into laughter.

“Harrison,” you say, “this has been just a really fun day.”

“I’m glad.” He reaches across the table for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Sorry you had to spend part of it with Tom, though.”

You shake your head. “Nah, he was alright. But thank you, this has been a wonderful birthday.”

Harrison raises an eyebrow. “What, you thought that was all of it? I’ve got one more surprise for you.”

“You said that was later, if I caught your drift. Which I always do.”

Harrison chuckles softly. “Okay, two surprises. The first one you figured out. This one…” He suddenly stands up, walks around to your side of the picnic table, and drops to one knee.

“Haz, what…” you gasp, covering your mouth with one hand; he takes your free hand in both of his.

“Is this cliche, to do this on your birthday? Doesn’t much matter, I’m doing it anyway.” He clears his throat for a moment before continuing. “I love you. I love you so much there aren’t enough words for me to properly describe how much. You’re funny, and sweet, and way smarter than I’ll ever be. I want to spend all of your birthdays, and every day, with you for the rest of our lives. So… what do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, not even hesitating for a moment.

Harrison laughs loudly. “I haven’t even gotten the ring out yet!”

“Well, it’s not my fault you have poor planning skills,” you tease.

Harrison pulls the ring box out of his pocket and hands it to you; you open it slowly, admiring the beautiful diamond ring inside.

“Harrison,” you say, voice wavering and eyes wet with tears, “it’s perfect.”

“Put it on.” He’s grinning from ear-to-ear. You silently comply, sliding the ring onto your finger.

“I love it,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling. Happy birthday.” He stands up slowly; he pulls you to your feet and kisses you softly.

“Well,” you say, “I definitely won’t forget this.”

“Oh, I should hope not.” He flashes you that cheeky, slightly lopsided grin you’ve come to cherish as you kiss him again.

So far, this has definitely been the best birthday ever.

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 10.2: Hiper-Billirubinado

[Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: What could be more romantic than letting your SO sleep in and make them a delicious brunch spread?! Edge can actually think of a lot of things, but if Stretch really wants him to eat these chicken and waffle things, then its his husband’s good luck he married such an accomodating, nice guy. 

Characters: Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Edge (Underfell Papyrus)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! (Implied) Mood swings! Very eager to please Stretch and very confused Edge! Domestic Fluff! Cooking and cooking mishaps! 

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note: Title based on the Juan Luis Guerra song “Me Sube la Billirubina.”

Oye, y me trastearon hasta el alma They even poked around my soul Con rayos equis y cirugía With x-rays and surgeries Y es que la ciencia no funciona And it turns out science just doesn’t work Sólo tus besos, vida mía Just your kisses, my life

It was mortifying to be sleeping in. Ever since he was a child, Edge had always been an early riser. There was always so much to do, he sometimes wished he didn’t have to sleep at all! He was the one who woke people up! It was wrong on a cosmic level for Stretch, the king of naps and drowsy lazing around, to be awake before him. To be productive while Edge was still sleeping!

He was still trying to rub sleep out of his sockets, slippers padding on the wood floors quietly, when he entered the kitchen.

“Papí, no me-“ Edge shook his head, trying to focus on his words, “Don’t let me sleep late-“

Edge froze, taking in the sight of his kitchen. Used dishes and bowls all along the counter and in the sink, every single spoon they owned had different types of food stuck to them, and there were half-opened, half-used ingredients all around. The milk didn’t even have a lid on it.

“Good morning!” Stretch was cheerful and energetic, bouncing over to give him a hug. He was wearing a chef’s hat and that stupid  ‘Grill Sergeant’ apron. Edge would have appreciated that gift more if Stretch hadn’t also crammed every other food related pun he could find on the rest of the fabric. On both sides. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”

“Good morning. Too well.” Edge sighed, trying to force the irritation down by closing his eyes and focusing on the feel of Stretch’s arms around him. “Wake me up when you wake up, Papí.”

“If you’re tired, you should sleep. You obviously need it.” Stretch sighed, discreetly trying to  feel his forehead. With his oven mitts on. Mamerto. “The weekend is the one time you can do it guilt free, so gotta take advantage, no?”

“No.” Edge leaned up on his tiptoes to give his husband a quick kiss, taking the oven mitts off in the process. With growing trepidation, he looked over at the bubbling pot on the stove, “What are you cooking? It smells...” It wasn’t necessarily appetizing, but it wasn’t bad either. “Oil? Is that oil?”

“Yup! Your nose knows!” Stretch gestured to the stove by sweeping his hand, and Edge pulled his husband’s arm back by the sleeve before he could hit the handle. If Stretch noticed, he didn’t comment on it. “I’m making brunch today, and I wanted to give you the best, most underrated combination ever: chicken and waffles!”

It took all of Edge’s willpower not to grimace, “Waffles?” He squirmed away from Stretch to peer into the bubbling pot, “Pancake waffles? Honey and sprinkle waffles?”

“Exactly!” Stretch playfully bumped him to the side with his hip, picking up a plate with raw, breaded chicken. Edge crushed a hand to his mouth to keep from saying anything as some of chicken fell into the pot with a splash, sending oil spilling onto his nice, clean stovetop. “Whoops. I’ll clean it up later, don’t worry.”

Edge already had a paper towel at the ready, trying to push past his husband, “Move. Let me clean that-”

“Nope, I’m good!” Stretch gestured to the table just through the doorway, which was positively covered in food. “Go ahead, take a seat and dig in!” He put his hands on the small of Edge’s back, gently pushing him forward.

“What-?!” Edge started to protest, but reluctantly let himself be exiled from his kitchen. There were a variety of foods he recognized on the table: cornbread, pancakes, grits (ugh,) bacon and scrambled eggs (ughhh.) And a few things he didn’t recognize- Wait. Edge picked up a misshapen green lump with melted cheese starting to ooze out the side. Cautiously, he broke off a piece to nibble on. It was too salty, but the taste was unmistakable.

“Are these Greempanadas?” He called over his shoulder, picking up the light brown glass in front of his plate. On closer inspection, it was oatmeal that was starting to coagulate. “And Coolada?”

“Well! They’re supposed to be- I did my very best, called Red and everything!” Stretch yelled over the sound of frying chicken, and the repetitive ding of the oven. It was a struggle for Edge not to go rushing in there to deal with it himself. “I mean, I looked around but you don’t have any of your Underfell recipes written down anywhere!”

“Why would you do that?” Edge asked the easy question instead, rolling the glass around in his hand. The oatmeal remained stuck in place. Stretch probably just used that instant oatmeal packet. Menso. “You could have just asked me. I would have been happy to make them for you-“

“But then it wouldn’t be a surprise! And I wanted to try and make them for you!” Stretch finally turned the stove off, apparently done with the frying, and Edge let out a relieved breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Like how you learned to make grits for me, even though you don’t even like them!”

Ah. This was a guilt thing, then. Why? What had Stretch done that he needed to be forgiven? He wasn’t still going on about the other day, was he? Edge didn’t like surprises, especially the kind of surprises without a clear motive. Well, Stretch was a terrible liar, and his conscience would have him breaking soon. Edge could be patient.

“And Red told you to use this much salt?” Edge tried to nibble off a little more, but it was so salty. What had his brother been thinking?

The oven dinged one more time. “Sort of!” Stretch continued ranting from the kitchen, oblivious. “Your brother is super unhelpful! He was like, ‘Put as much salt as you want, but not too much!’ and ‘Just a little bit of sugar and a dash of pepper!’ And then he got all mad at me when I asked for clarification, all ‘You got a tongue, don’t’cha?!’ Ugh!”

Edge crushed a piece of the Greempanada on his plate, sprinkling the chunks around like crumbs. He wrapped four of them in a paper napkin, tucking them into his inventory for later disposal. “Yes, Red is the absolute worst.”

“Yes! Well, I mean-“ Stretch cleared his throat uncomfortably, backtracking immediately, “Maybe it’s very obvious for Fell monsters, but for Stretch monsters, it’s like he’s speaking to me in Flowey. Like, really angry, aggressive Flowey.”

Edge smiled despite himself, shaking his head fondly. Stretch made another sound of annoyance, “So, yeah, I tried. There were some other things he was telling me but I didn’t know what those were, so I substituted some stuff.”

Ah. That would explain the paprika. A moment later, Stretch came out with two plates exactly as advertised: fried chicken on a waffle covered in... something. He started to hand a plate over, before hesitating to fidget a little self-consciously, “I know I’m not as great a cook as you are, but... I hope you like it anyway.“

He put the plates down on the table with a sigh, smile anxious and strained, “This was one of my favorite things as a kid, so I wanted you to try it, ‘cause you’re always giving me all of this delicious things from Underfell-“ Stretch started worrying at his ring, “And I appreciate it, you know? I love your cooking and I love you, and I want you to feel as happy as I do when you share this kind of stuff with me, so I wanted to return the favor in a small way-“

Using the side of his fork, Edge cut off a piece of both chicken and waffle, swirling them in the sticky, brown sauce. Bracing himself, he carefully took a bite. The taste was... indescribable. He wouldn’t call it delicious- the sauce was too sweet for the chicken but too salty for the waffle- but he could feel the care that went into it. The love put into the dish went straight to his soul like a hug, and Edge could honestly look up and say, “It’s good.”

“Is it?!” Stretch was in his lap in a moment, arms tight around his chest as he knocked their skulls together, “Blue makes them with bourbon-maple glaze, but that has alcohol, and I didn’t wanna risk it. Yeah, yeah, cooking it makes the alcohol disappear but I’m not gonna take any chances with Pancake!”

Stretch was incredibly talkative today. Not enough to worry, not yet, but enough to definitely monitor. “Like, I want my kid to have this sometime too, but I figured it’d be better when they were born! Yeah, they can get some from symbiosis right now, maybe, but it’s not the same-“ Edge cut off another piece of the chicken and waffle, popping it into his husband’s mouth mid-explanation.

“Yes.” He agreed amicably, keeping his arm around his husband’s waist to keep him from fleeing. He put another piece of food against Stretch’s mouth before he finished swallowing the first, “I’m sure they’ll like it.”

Especially if it was one of the first things they tried, before they developed a firm sense of taste and could speak out against it. And Edge would have plenty of time to undo the damage before Pancake could develop their other father’s sweet tooth.

[ Incident 1 ] [ Incident 2 - Here! ] [ Incident 3]