#just since they’re cheese and pasta

[quibbs126]

So these two NPCs are Cheddar Cheese and Macaroni

You know given the shading, I feel like Cheddar Cheese is supposed to look suspicious, but I can’t tell if that’s because he’ll actually be the culprit or if it’s just a red herring

Also so they supposedly work together, but only Cheddar Cheese is a detective? Then what’s Macaroni’s job and relation to Cheddar Cheese? I suppose we’ll find out

Edit: I’m realizing Macaroni is probably a cop or something similar

Also RIP to anyone who had a Cheddar Cheese or Macaroni Cookie, because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen at least one of both

[smoshyourheadin]

Maybe u could do a Spencer besties to lovers? Like they've known each other a long time yk

Thankssss no pressure if ur busy ofc <3

It’s Always Been You

cw: reader has a boyf who she breaks up w bc he’s an alchaholic!! don’t read if you aren’t comfortable, i’ll catch you another time ml 💛

a/n: EEK IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT ANON 🫶🫶💛💛 also im taking this as smosh spence not cm spence so feel free to re-request if you’d like <33 ps, ive written that he listens to pink floyd here so thats who syd barrett is if you don’t know :))

requests r open!!

///

pairing: spencer agnew x fem!reader

florida, 2002

you and spencer were scurrying around in the freshly mown grass of his backyard, playing tag.

“you didn’t get me, you cheated!” you exclaim, ducking as he reaches out to get you again, tumbling to the floor.

“did too!” spencer retorts, his grazed knees dropping to the floor so he can lean over you. he meets your eyes, pulls a tongue, and hoists himself back up to run to his tyre swing.

all 11 years you’d known, you’d known them with spencer. your moms had been great friends since way before you were born, being in the same book club. or was it an art night? you didn’t exactly know, but you did know that because your moms were best friends, so were you and spencer.

as you sprung back up to your feet, your moms watched your antics through the kitchen window.

“whoever can swing the other the highest gets to have the last red popsicle!” he yelled as you ran over

“oh you’re so on!”

your hands gripped the tyre and you pushed like your life depended on it.

“y’know,” your mom said “one day, they’re going to end up together.”

his mom looked over at yours and smiled,

“i’d be surprised if they didnt honestly.”

los angeles, 2024

you walk through the door of your apartment, and you kick the door closed behind you. your bag slides off your shoulder, and you throw your keys onto the dresser next to the door. you only manage a long groan before flopping onto the couch.

“heya, charlie!” you scrunch your face up as you feel your dog’s cold, wet nose press against your cheek, as he gently wags his tail

“i missed you too boy, work was so tiring today.” you work at smosh with spencer, and have done for the past seven years after you left your job at another channel to join him. it was basically the best decision you’d ever made, every day filled with laughs; practically just a 24/7 hangout. you work with spencer on smosh games, but rarely ever go on camera, even if spencer’s there. you enjoy it anyway though.

you sit up and scratch behind his ears. he wiggles his body contently at your fondness. and then your stomach growls. it made sense, it was currently 6:43pm, and you last ate at noon, so you get up and drag yourself to make some mac n cheese.

as the pasta boils your phone starts ringing.

it’s james.

rubbing your hands over your face, you answer the dreaded call from your boyfriend james.

“heyyy~ sweetheart, y’doin okay? you were hic bein’ a bit of a bitch today, didnt answer my calls, what, you hate me or sumn?” he rambles, most of his words just slurring off.

“james, are you drinking again?” your voice is agitated, hearing the chattering and the low bass of a bar in the background.

you know he has a problem, and you’ve tried to get him to stop so many times. but you just can’t. he just won’t take your help.

“wha- i mean- well- no- but um- well y’r just gonna be mad at me like y’allways are” he stammers, not wanting to tell you the truth.

“no, i’m done with this. you say all this to me when you’re drunk, and then act like everything is fine! i’m sick of it! you spend so much time at the bar, and its the only place we ever go on dates, and i just end up babysitting you! so yeah i am mad! but for the last time! fuck you james.”

you hang up.

you start to tear up, the knot in your chest tight as your emotions come rushing to you, face heating up as tears begin to fall. the hissing of something behind you snaps you out of it.

“shit!” you rush over to to your stove, where the water from your pasta spills over the sides, the flames licking at the bottom of the pan.you take it off the heat and turn it off. it looks done anyway. you add some butter, and, of course, cheese. stirring gently, you sob.

james was so nice to you, always showering you with gifts and praise and love. but it was all for nothing. he just didn’t love you like he loved drinking in the end.

pouring the mac n cheese into a bowl, you call spencer.

“hey lemon! how’s my favourite person this fine evening?” you smile at the nickname.

florida, 2007

“spencer, you’re a boy. why are you so complicated? i mean, its just annoying!” you walk into his bedroom after his mom let you in, clearly pissed off. being 16 isn’t fun, especially when boys you like are rude to you.

“what did he do?” spencer doesn’t look up from his computer, just slightly turn his head.

“he said that i must eat lemons because of how bitter i am. i mean come on!” you lie on his bed and watch him play runescape.

“lemon… hmph” he just smiles and continues whatever he was doing on his game.

“what? nothing to say? ugh! you suuuuuck!”

los angeles, 2024

“yeah, i mean, no. i broke up with james.” you sniffle, and eat a forkfull of your food, elbows resting on the cold marble of the kitchen island.

“i mean- um- yeah thats horrible…” he says

“you’re allowed to celebrate, i know you hated him. and so did everyone. but still. im fragile right now!” you giggle through your gentle tears

“well, i mean, honestly? glad he’s gone. he sucked dude. not sure why you didn’t do it sooner. well, one positive to come of this, your pillows won’t stink of beer next time i nap at yours!” he replies, clearly happy for you.

“yeah,” you chuckle at the memory of spencer falling asleep on your bed, then completing his hair smelt like budweiser “that is true.”

“all seriousness though, are you okay?” his voice is genuine this time, filled with concern.

“no, not really. it’s just… different i guess. but, not much has changed y’know? like, it already felt like he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore…” you begin to ramble for at least 20 minutes, only to be met with the occasional ‘mhmn’ and ‘yeah’ from spencer. mid sentence, there’s a knock at your door.

“oh one sec, someone’s here.” you get up from your table and swing the door open to see a very sympathetic looking spencer, two target bags in his hands.

your jaw is on the floor. you were just crying to him over the phone, and he’d stayed whilst going out to get what you can only assume is things like sour patch kids and vanilla ice cream, which you could see at the top of the bag. your favourites.

“girls night?” he smirked and raised the bags at his sides.

all you can do is smile ear to ear, and wrap him in a tight hug. he leaned into you, basking in your sweet citrusy perfume.

“you’re my favourite, spencie.” you say into his shoulder.

as you both walk inside, charlie comes bounding over to spencer, his favourite person.

“who’s a good boy! charlie is!” spencer was now crouchedby your kitchen island, fussing over your dog as you walked to put on something more comfortable. you slid on some track pants and an old atari hoodie. walking back into your kitchen, spencer has unpacked the bags, and is creating his favourite conconction, The Agnew Sundae. basically the most sickeningly sweet ice cream ever. his dad made it for you both in the summer, and it consisted of:

vanilla ice cream

chocolate syrup

caramel sauce

whipped cream

sprinkles

mini marshmallows

chocolate chips

m&ms

and some crushed oreos to finish.

god, you know you’re going to regret this later, but boy was it a good way to cheer you up.

also strewn on the counter was his switch and copy of animal crossing, a few of his dvd’s for you to watch, and his mom’s chocolate chip cookies.

“spencer, how on earth did you get these? your mom lives across the country!” you hold up the baggie, and raise an eyebrow.

he looks up from his ice cream assembly station, and smirks.

“a magician never- ow!”

you cut him off by lightly jabbing his arm

“okay okay, she visited not to long ago - when she took you to the mall? and she gave me these to freeze and keep for an important event. i think she’d agree this is important.” you cant help but smile at his remark. you missed you moms.

“i’ll have to ring her later to thank her.” you say.

the night goes on, and you and spencer sit on the couch under a blanket watching barbie princess charm school. because what else are you going to watch?

as the movie goes on, and the effects of the agnew sundae kick in; you were dozing off on his shoulder. towards the end of the movie, so does he. he drifts off, comforted by your soft hair occasionally brushing against his face.

you stir awake, the sun beaming into your eyes through your semi-open blinds, and you’re hit by a wave of memory. everything that happened last night comes flooding back.

james’ call.

spencer’s call.

spencer showing up for you.

at the latter, you smile slightly. you prop yourself up on the sofa, and notice the absence of spencer’s warmth by you. frowning slightly, you walk into the kitchen.

“morning sleepyhead” his sweet voice rings through the room

“hey. i thought you’d’ve gone home”

“no, im not that mean! who do you take me for?” he retorts, his attention turning back to the pancakes on the stove.

“pancakes? what time is it?” you come up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder.

“yeah, and it’s about 10:30.” he leant his head on yours, flipping one. you had to admit, they look pretty good.

“10:30!?” you lift you head in surprise, looking at your phone “shouldn’t we be in work?”

“nope, i called us in sick. said my mom was having surgery. which she is, but i made it sound dramatic so we could stay off.” he looks at you, and smiles slightly.

“well, send her my love! i think i’ll go get dressed now.” he hummed, and you left the room.

opening your closet, you pick out a yellow baggy t-shirt and some grey sweatpants. you pull on some fluffy socks, and slip on a zip up hoodie. walking back out into the living room, spencer walks in with two plates piled high with pancakes, drenched in syrup and strawberries

“so,” you say, a fork full of pancakes in your mouth. “whats the plan for today?”

he looks over at you, and shrugs slightly. “not sure, we could go to the book store you like?”

“ah, you know the way to a girl’s heart“ you put a hand over your chest and giggle a bit.

a few hours later, you walk into the store, door creaking just a bit as a small brass bell chimes overhead. the air is filled with a comforting mix of old paper, leather bindings, and a hint of freshly brewed coffee from the corner cafe that you and spencer like to get tea from. you breathe it in deeply, a sense of calm washing over you. as you walk over the creaky wooden floorboards beneath you, soft warm light filters down from antique lamps, and cast a gentle glow over the rows of books. you ghost your fingertips over the cloth spines while the quiet murmur of whispered conversations and the occasional rustling of pages create a soothing background noise, almost like a lullaby. through spencer’s airpods, syd barrett serenades you both, and his voice blends seamlessly with the ambiance of the store.

“anything good today lemon?” spencer says as he shimmies up next to you in the aisle of towering book shelves, his voice like honey rolling off his tongue. his hair was unruly as always, but he looked so pretty in this light. his face was littered with freckles that you wish you could kiss. he’s smiling at you, and it snaps you back to reality, and reminds you of the fact you’re staring at him

“uh, yeah, i think i’ll get this one” you smile back, holding up a copy of memoirs of a geisha by arthur golden

“cool, shayne likes that one i think. but he likes every book so…” he smiles at his own remark “um, you want me to grab our normal seats in the cafe while you pay for that?”

“yes, please!” you reply eagerly, smiling as he walked off.

you walk up to the cashier, an older lady who always gives you a bookmark.

“thank you m’darlin’, have a lovely day!”

“you too mrs bryson!” you reply, heading over to spencer who’s sat in some plush leather armchairs. as you sit in comfortable silence with him, time seems to slow down, and for a moment, it's just you, spencer, the books, and the comforting atmosphere of this charming bookstore.

“i got you your sweet tea.” he says, handing you a plastic cup filled with your favourite tea.

he remembered.

fuck.

you were in love with spencer agnew, and it took you him handing you your favourite tea to realise it.

“thanks spence.” you say, still grasping the feelings in your chest.

while you read you book and drink your tea, you feel your attention drifting to him. you can't help but glance up from the pages every now and then, watching him as he sits across from you, his focus on his own book. his fingers absently tracing the rim of his coffee mug, his brow furrowing as he reads. the way the sunlight filters through the small window, casting a warm glow across his hair, highlighting the subtle streaks of lighter brown among his dark curls. you find yourself smiling at the sight of him, wondering when these small, mundane moments began to mean so much to you. the bookstore is quiet, aside for the murmur of others reading or talking in hushed tones. yet, with spencer sitting just a few feet away, the world feels like it's faded to the background. it's just you and him, sharing this space, this moment. you watch the way his lips move slightly as he reads, how he occasionally tilts his head in concentration, and the way his eyes light up when he finds something particularly interesting. as he looks up and catches you watching him, you feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest. he smiles at you, a slow, easy smile that makes your heart skip a beat. he raises an eyebrow, and you quickly look back down at your book, feeling your cheeks flush. but you can't help it; your gaze finds its way back to him, like he's the most interesting story in the room. he seems to notice the shift in the air between you. he closes his book and leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“everything okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

“yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual, though your heart is racing. “just... glad to be here with you.”

he nods, his smile growing a bit wider. “me too.”

as he settles back into his chair, you realize that this simple exchange has changed something. the air feels lighter, the connection between you stronger. you may have come here to read and relax, but now, sitting across from spencer, you know you've found something else entirely - something you never want to let go of.

as you leave the store, you’re panicking slightly as you realise you don’t know what to do. so instead you make up an excuse.

“i forgot my keys ," you blurt out, looking back at the bookstore. it's a thin excuse, but spencer doesn't seem to notice. he simply nods, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"do you want me to wait for you?" he asks, already reaching for his phone to check the time.

"no, it's fine," you reply quickly. "you can go ahead. i’ll just be a minute."

spencer seems reluctant to leave, but he nods, offering a warm smile before stepping out onto the street. you watch him walk away, his figure blending into the crowd as he heads toward the main crossing. your heart sinks a little as he disappears from view, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse.

the bookstore feels different now. the warm glow and soft murmurs are still there, but without spencer, it's like the color has faded a bit. you stand by the door, uncertain of what to do next. you could go back outside, catch up with him, and just say it. tell him how you feel. but the words seem stuck in your throat, and the thought of laying your feelings bare feels like too much, too soon.

you step back inside, pretending to look for something you might have left behind. the stacks of books seem to stretch endlessly in front of you, a maze of comforting distractions. you wander through the aisles, hoping to calm your racing thoughts, but all you can think about is spencer - his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the warmth of his voice.

eventually, you find a quiet corner and sit down, closing your eyes for a moment. you know you have to do something. you can't just let him walk away without knowing how much he means to you. but the fear of rejection, of changing everything, feels overwhelming.

you realize you need time to sort through your feelings, to figure out the best way to approach this. with a heavy heart, you decide to make your way home, hoping the familiar surroundings will bring clarity. as you step out onto the street, the cool breeze brushes against your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside you.

on the journey home, you replay the moments with spencer in your mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of how much he means to you. you know you can't keep hiding your feelings, but you also know you need to approach this with caution. as you unlock the door to your apartment, you make a silent promise to yourself—to take the time you need, to listen to your heart, and to find the courage to follow where it leads, even if it means risking everything for him.

when you get home, spencer tries calling you as he paces around his bedroom, his phone pressed against his ear. the ringing continues, but there's no answer. he frowns, feeling an uneasy twist in his stomach. maybe you're still in the bookstore. maybe your phone is on silent, or maybe you're just busy. he tells himself there's a reasonable explanation, but the doubt lingers.

as he walks to his kitchen, he dials again. this time, the call goes straight to voicemail. his instincts tell him something isn't right. the keys excuse felt odd, and your hurried departure only amplifies his worry. he takes a moment to think, then leaves his apartment, jumps in his car, starts the engine, and drives toward your apartment.

the streets pass in a blur as he navigates through the evening traffic, his mind racing with possibilities. he finds a parking spot near your building and heads to your door. the hallway is quiet, save for the distant sound of a tv from a neighbouring apartment. he takes a deep breath and knocks.

nothing.

he knocks again, this time a little louder. the knot in his stomach tightens. what if something's wrong? what if he's too late? he knocks a third time, and this time, he hears a faint rustling from inside. the door opens slowly, and there you are, standing in the doorway with a look of surprise and confusion.

"spence?" you say, blinking at him as if he's the last person you expected to see.

"i - i was worried," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "you didn't answer your phone, and i - i didn't know if you were okay."

you tilt your head, trying to process why he's here. his eyes search yours, and you can tell he's anxious, almost desperate to explain himself. "i'm fine," you say, "just had some stuff to think about."

he nods, but you can see he's not entirely convinced. there's something else, something deeper. he takes a step back, as if he's about to leave, but then he hesitates. "i - i have to tell you something," he blurts out, his words coming out in a rush. "i like you. like a lot. like i think i love you? and i know it might be weird, and i don't want to mess things up, but I just had to say it - because i couldn't keep it to myself anymore.”

he looks at you, his eyes full of emotions you can't quite decipher yet. you nod, urging him to continue, even though your own heart is racing. there's something in his gaze that makes you realize this isn't just any confession - this is something that's been building for a long time.

"i've liked you since we were kids," he says, almost breathlessly. "i mean, you were always the coolest person I knew. you didn't care what anyone else thought. you were smart and funny and just... so genuinely kind. i remember when we used to ride our bikes around the neighbourhood, and you'd always be the first one to try something new. like, remember when you climbed that huge tree in mr lawson's yard just because you wanted to see the view from the top? i thought you were so brave."

he chuckles softly, his gaze softening as he reminisces. "and then, when we got older, you were always there for me. when my parents split up, and i felt like everything was falling apart, you were the one who came over with a pizza and just listened. you didn't try to fix it; you just let me talk. that's something i've always loved about you. you're a great listener, and you care about people. like, really care."

he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes locking with yours. "it's not just that, though. It's the little things, too. the way you laugh at the dumbest of angela’s jokes, the way you get excited about your favorite books, and how you always know the right thing to say when I'm feeling down. you make everything feel... lighter, you know? like, even when things are tough, you find a way to make it better."

spencer pauses, his voice growing more earnest. "so yeah, i've um, been holding onto this for a while, and i just, couldn't keep pretending that i didn't feel this way. i like you - a lot. and i don't know if you feel the same way, but i just couldn't not tell you anymore."

he takes a step back, the tension in his shoulders indicating that he's prepared to leave if needed. "i don't want to make things weird between us. if you don't feel the same, that's okay. i just had to say it, because you're the best thing in my life, and i can't keep acting like you aren't."

his confession takes you by surprise, but as he speaks, you feel a surge of warmth in your chest. the words you were struggling to say are suddenly so clear, so obvious. you watch as he starts to turn away, his shoulders slumping in resignation. before he can take another step, you grab his arm and pull him back, your lips pressing against his in a gentle, yet desperate kiss.

he freezes for a moment, stunned by your sudden action, then his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. when you finally break the kiss, you look into his eyes, and there's no doubt, no hesitation.

"it's always been you," you whisper, your voice soft but sure. "you're my person, spencer."

he hugs you tightly, his grip firm and comforting, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. it's a perfect moment, one that feels like the beginning of something new, something beautiful.

and as you stand there in each other's embrace, you know that everything's going to be okay, because you have each other. and that's all that matters.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xvi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara’s not a good patient. You should know this by now. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder, Smut (18+), vaginal fingering, pussy-eating, face-sitting. Sweet!sex, bottom!Tara if you squint.

word count: 3.8k

a/n: bringing back sexy-time, because poor Tara needs a break. as always, thanks for all the love :))

Tara’s not a good patient. You should know this by now. 

She whines about not being able to stand up by herself. Snaps when her nurse - Nurse Dawson, suggests a sponge bath. Begrudgingly lets you help her shower. 

She hates the hospital food and refuses to eat Sam’s organic, non-gluten, non-dairy, non-fun pasta-bake when she shows up with it. Instead, she orders DoorDash to her hospital room  three nights in a row. 

And on the fourth night, when the doctor tells her she has to stay another night, her fist curls, daggers in her eyes. 

“You know why they’re doing this?” She says, voice hot as the slew of doctors and nurses leave the room, “It’s a money-grab. The longer they keep me here, the more money they get off of the Insurance payout.” 

“They’re keeping you here because you have a stab-wound in your stomach,” You say, firmly. You smooth her hair out of her face, touch her red cheeks with your fingertips, “And I want you here too. You’re not 100%, baby, you need to rest and recover.” 

“I feel fine,” She complains, with a huff, “Sure, my stomach hurts, but that’s what the Codeine is for, right?” 

You lean in and kiss her, soft. Climb into the hospital bed with her, your head on her shoulder. 

“Why don’t we watch a movie? That always makes you feel better.” 

Tara runs her hand down your arm, presses her lips to your forehead. Then squeezes your side, suggestively. 

“You know what would make me feel better?” She says, voice low, “If you took off all your clothes.”

“I’m sure Nurse Dawson would love that.” You say. 

Her hand catches your wrist, trying to hold you in place. 

“Please.” She murmurs, “My stomach hurts and all I want is for you to sit on my face.” 

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sam interjects as she enters the room. She has another pasta-bake in hand. 

Your face flames red. Tara's lips purse. 

“If you think I’m eating that-”

Sam shushes her, presses her lips to Tara’s forehead. 

“It’s good for you. Much better than the shit you’ve been eating. I made this one special, regular pasta, just for you.” 

Tara tilts her head, looks over at the pasta suspiciously. 

“It has gluten? And real cheese?”

“Real cheese and extra gluten. I made a kale and apple salad to pair with it-”

Tara groans, tilting her head back to the pillow. 

“Sam, why can’t you just make regular food for regular people?” She complains, but takes a helping all the same. You sit up as Sam hands you a plate, careful not to spill it all over Tara’s bedsheets. 

Sam settles into the seat next to the bed, watching. 

“Ran into the Sheriff in the hall,” She says, “They don’t have any suspects.” 

Sheriff Hicks’ visits had been regular since Tara got hurt. She’d seemed wide-eyed, upset, no doubt seeing Tara in a hospital bed had reminded her of her own missing son. She’d come in three days in a row, hat in hand to deliver the same news. 

The police had no leads.

“I know,” Tara says, mouth full, “She won’t leave us alone, will she, YN? Keeps coming in here asking me to repeat what happened over and over.” 

“She posted extra police on the door,” You say, “There’s five of them now.”

“Each as useless as the next,” Tara says under her breath. She frowns, “Sam are you sure this is real cheese? It tastes like shit.” 

You’d smack her, if you weren’t afraid you were going to hurt her wound. Instead you shoot her a look. 

“Babe.” You chide. 

Sam rolls her eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” She says, then she looks to you, “Where are your parents?” 

“They’ve gone home to shower,” You say, “They’ll be back a little later.” 

“Speaking of people who won’t leave us alone…” Tara mutters. You shoot her another look. 

“Good,” Sam says, firmly, “The last thing you need is to be left alone when there’s a maniac running around.”

She pauses, looks at Tara, seriously. 

“When you get out of the hospital, I want you to come back home. With me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere without YN.” Tara says. She puts her plate to the nightstand, wiping her mouth with her hand. 

“So she can come home too.” Sam says, “Richie’s not there, I’m done with him. I need to be near you, Tara, I need to be able to protect you.” 

Tara looks at you. 

“What do you think? Will your parents go for it?” 

You chew your lip. Your Dad hadn’t let you out of his sight for less than an hour since the attack. He’d bought two more shotguns and an industrial style alarm system the night after it had happened. 

“Probably not,” You say, honestly, “I think he’s seriously contemplating installing iron bars on my window.” 

Tara looks back at Sam and shrugs. 

“Sorry.” 

Sam doesn’t look happy. 

“Fat lot of good all that security did last time,” Sam says, “Ghostface slipped right in. It’s all well and good having an alarm system and a gun, but it’s not enough. You need to have someone who actually knows how to use it.” 

Tara’s hand brushes through your hair. 

“It would be nice to go home,” She murmurs, “Maybe you could talk to your Dad? We have an alarm at the house, and it would be easy enough to buy the same locks he has. Sam’s a good shot and she has a lot of guns.” 

You sigh. The prospect of telling your Dad you’re leaving home four nights after a Ghostface attack scares you a little. 

“I can try,” You say, voice resigned. If for nothing else but for poor Sam. You can’t imagine not being in the same house as Tara, not being there to protect her if needed. You know Sam must be going out of her mind. 

“Thank you.” Sam says.

-

“No.” 

You blink. You’d taken your Dad out into the hallway when he’d come back. Told him there was something you needed to tell him. And then not even got halfway into your sentence when he interrupted you. 

“But Dad-”

“If you think I’m letting you go anywhere that isn’t school, you’re out of your mind.” He says, voice stern, “In fact, I’m half considering pulling you out of school all together. Mom googled some good home-schooling courses last night.” 

“Dad, Sam is really worried about Tara,” You plead, “Really worried. Tara said she has an armory at the house. We’d be safe there with her.” 

“The answer is no, YN.” He says, sounding aggravated, “If Tara wants to go home and be with her sister, that’s her choice. But you’re not going anywhere."

You stare. 

“I’m eighteen, Dad, you can’t tell me what to do anymore.” 

He stares back at you. It isn’t often you challenge him like this. You can see the wheels behind his eyes turning, like if he’s not careful you’ll storm off and never come home again. His jaw clenches, then he looks over to Sam and Tara.

He sighs.

“Look - I’m happy for Sam to come stay with us for a few days, if she’s really worried. We can make up the guest room.” He offers. 

You know it's as good as you're going to get.

And so it’s settled. 

Sam accepts, almost immediately. The promise of being near enough to Tara to keep her safe, alluring. She leaves that night to pack, promising to be back in the morning to help bring Tara home. 

When she returns, it’s to you and Nurse Dawson trying to fight Tara into a wheelchair. 

“Baby, it’s just to the car.” You say, hands firm as you lower her into it. Nurse Dawson, she’d fight, but you? She settles for crossing her arms like an angry child. You press a kiss to her forehead, and let Nurse Dawson wheel her outside.  

“This is ridiculous.” Tara grumbles the entire way down, “I can stand, I’m not an invalid.”

“Hospital policy.” Says Nurse Dawson, cheerfully. She’s in a better mood than you’ve seen her in all week, no doubt relieved her moody, pouty, storm-cloud of a patient is finally being discharged. She turns to you. 

“Make sure to clean the wound once a day, like I showed you. Redress and make sure she doesn’t engage in any strenuous activity. If there’s any redness or swelling, bring her right back in.” 

You nod. 

Nurse Dawson squeezes Tara’s shoulders, helps her up into the car, Sam at her other side. 

“I can do it,” Tara snaps, retracting from both of them. She slumps down into the back seat, wincing as she hits the fabric too hard. Her hand draws to her wound. 

You climb into the other side of the car, reach over to help her put on her seatbelt. 

“Say thank-you.” You mumble, look pointed as Nurse Dawson hovers by the car door.

Tara huffs, looks over to the Nurse. 

“Thank you.” She says, not sounding like she means it at all.

-

Sam takes to your family home like a moth to a flame. 

She helps your Dad set up his new security equipment. Trudges in a small suitcase full of guns and offers him a pistol in lieu of his shotgun. She helps your mother make dinner - to Tara’s horror - and even clears the plates, trying to wash the dishes before your Mother shoos her upstairs. 

You help Tara settle into one of the kitchen stools and grab a dishcloth, pulling out Sam’s pre-made vegan cheesecake from the fridge. Tara makes a face.

“Sam is a lovely girl,” Your mother gushes, arm deep in dishwater, “Why haven’t we met her before?” 

Tara crosses her arms, frowning slightly. Pout on her lips. She’s been like this all dinner. Withdrawn. Glaring at Sam from across the table each time your Dad offers her the faintest of compliments. 

“She’s fine.” Tara says, voice loaded, “Other than the drugs and the huge drinking problem-”

“Tara.” You hiss, as your mother looks back, wide-eyed, “She’s kidding Mom, Sam doesn’t have a drinking problem.” 

“Oh.” Says your mother. She wipes her hands against the dish-towel, “Good.” 

She pauses. Hovers. 

“Excuse me a moment.” 

She leaves the room in a flurry, no doubt to go and hide her bottles of aged-Sherry. You move closer to Tara, flick her hand with your finger. 

“What did you say that for?” You groan, “They like Sam. That’s a good thing.”

“They like her more than me.” She says, pouting, “I’m your girlfriend, not her. They’re supposed to like me the best.” 

“They like you fine.” You lie. She squints, shooting you a look.  

“Who cares what they think, anyway?” You say, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I like you more than her and that’s all that matters, right?” 

She considers this. Smiles, slightly. 

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

You lean down and kiss her. 

-

Sam’s room is just down the hall. 

She wants to sleep in your room, you can tell by the way she keeps hinting to Tara over dessert how much fun their little camping sleepovers in the living room were when they were kids. 

When Sam hovers in the doorway near bedtime, Tara groans and snaps at her to go back to her own room. 

“It’s safer if I’m in here with you,” Sam insists. She has her pistol holstered on her hip and she keeps touching it like she’s ready for Ghostface to jump out at any second, “I can protect you both.” 

“I have a gun too.” Tara waves it about, “We’ll be fine. I’ll yell if I need you.”

“Look how well that turned out last time,” Sam says, gesturing to the bandage wrapped around Tara’s waist. 

“Boundaries, Sam.” Tara grumbles, “We’ve talked about this. I can’t breathe when you’re suffocating me like this.” 

Sam huffs. 

“Fine.” She says, and storms back to her own room in a sulk.

“Finally.” Tara says, falling back into the pillows. She draws you down with her, “We’re finally alone.” 

“And going to sleep.” You say, pointedly, “You need your rest.” 

“I feel fine, baby,” Tara insists, “I feel good. And I missed you.” 

“I’ve been with you this entire time,” You say, eyes fluttering closed as she presses her lips to your neck. 

“I know, but I’ve missed you.”

“Tara-” You protest, slightly, “Your stomach-”

“Is fine.” Tara assures. She draws you down into a languid kiss. Squeezes your hips, trying to tilt you over, “There’s nothing wrong with my mouth.” 

“That I know,” You say, raising an eyebrow, “You’ve been running it all day.” 

Tara pouts. You kiss it away. Then draw your hands down her legs, gently climbing atop her. You've missed her too.

“Promise me you’ll lay back and not move too much. Nurse Dawson said no strenuous activity.” 

She nods, mouth falling open slightly at the way you draw her panties down her legs. 

“Good girl.” You whisper against her lips, and then you’re kissing your way down her body. 

You’re gentle with her, so careful not to touch her wound, or move her in a way that will hurt her. 

Her skin is soft, warm, still slightly reddened from the heat of her shower. You brush your lips down her thighs and then kiss your way to her center. She’s not wet, not yet, so you run your hands over her hips, suck lovingly on her inner thighs. Ghost your lips over her folds until you can see evidence of your efforts. Sticky, wet syrup that coats her entrance. The fruits of your labor. 

“Don’t tease, babe.” Tara says, desperately. She’s on her elbows, looking down at you. You flinch as the bandage on her stomach creases. 

“You promised you’d lay back,” You say, hurrying back up to press her down. She draws you in to kiss her, needy, fingers digging into your shoulders as she slips her tongue between your lips. 

“Come up here,” She says, voice low, “Turn around so I can eat you out.” 

Your stomach flips with arousal. She’s moving up, trying to draw you up over her face. But you resist.

“Your stomach, baby-girl,” You murmur against her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She huffs. 

“The only thing hurting me is the severe lack of pussy I’ve been not getting for the last four days-” 

“Romantic.” You say, dryly, pulling away from her, “You’ll stay not getting it unless you lie back for me and don’t move. Like a good girl.” 

She bites her lip. Nods, slow. 

You press your lips to hers. Then tilt your way down her body. You stop at her nipples, take them between your lips and suck down until they’re pebbled, hard, and you can feel her wetness against your thigh. 

“Baby.” She groans as you skip right over where she wants you to kiss the inside of her knee. 

“Good girls are patient,” You remind her, drawing her legs over your shoulders. 

She peers down at you, eyebrows raised, “And when have I ever been a good girl?”

She lets out a sharp gasp as you run your tongue along her folds, gently dragging her syrupy wetness up to her clit. Her head falls back onto the pillow, her hands reaching down to clutch a fistful of your hair. Her thighs around your head tighten as you gently run your tongue over her clit. 

Experimental. 

You resist the urge to sigh at her taste. She’s perfect. Sweet and bitter, all at once. You dip down to her entrance, wanting more of it on your tongue. 

You kiss her velvety folds, drag your tongue along her length. Her fingers in your hair are insistent. She presses you down, further into her, writhing only slightly as you take her clit between your lips. 

She likes it harder than this, usually. But you’re slow this time. Gentle. You want to make her cum, softly as you can, without straining her. You want to make love to her. Show her how much you adore her, how glad you are that she's okay.

The way she’s sighing, moans breathy, it seems to be working. 

You alternate between sucking softly on her clit, then swirling your tongue in quiet, gentle circles. It isn’t long before Tara’s moaning out your name quietly, thighs tightening around your head. 

You lick her once more, clean her up, not wanting to waste a drop of her. 

When you kiss your way back up to her body, she’s slumped against the pillows, chest rising steadily. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You trail your fingertips across her cheek, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

She shakes her head, still a little hazy. 

You look down at her bandage, rub the edges of the fabric, gently. It’s still clean, no blood. You press another kiss to her lips, rubbing her hip. 

“Up here.” She says, trying to pull you up, “I want to go down on you so bad.” She says, breathless. Her hands work down to pull you out of your sleep shorts, tossing your underwear to the side, carelessly. You settle into the spot next to her, take her hand and guide it between your legs. 

“Let’s stay like this,” You murmur, tilting her cheek in your hand, “I want to kiss you.” 

And it's true. You want her as close as possible. You want it to be romantic. You want her lips on you and her fingers inside you. You want to be encompassed by her smell and her taste. You want to be reminded that she's here. She's alive and in your arms.

She complies with a soft nod.

You close your eyes. Her hands between your legs feel like magic. You’re soaked, the way you always got after you went down on her. She rubs her fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal. You kiss her furiously, sucking down gently on her bottom lip as her fingers work against your clit. 

You groan into her mouth. This, you never got tired of. Kissing Tara, feeling the press of her bare skin against yours. Her lips are as talented as her fingers, her tongue against the seam of your lips flooding you once more as she grazes her fingers upwards, and slips them inside of you. 

The angle is a little awkward, but you don’t care. You rut yourself into her hand, hand around her neck as you kiss. She keeps trying to sit up, you know she wants nothing more than to climb on top of you and fuck you into the mattress. But you hold her down, keep her where you want her. 

You break the kiss as you get close, moan out into the milky skin of her neck. She curls her fingers, then uses her thumb to rub your clit, gently. It hits you like a freight train. You close your eyes, gasp out her name as stars explode behind your eyes. The shock that flushes through you is red, warm. 

You all but collapse into her side, curling a protective arm around her bare waist. She kisses the top of your head, lovingly, then withdraws her fingers. Brings them to her lips and sucks you off them, eyes flashing with arousal at your taste. 

“Now, can I go down on you?” She asks, hopefully. 

You kiss her, “Maybe later, baby.”

She hums, a little disappointed. 

“My belly hurts a little,” She says, voice small. At this, you sit up, concern flashing through your face. 

“Oh, baby.” You say, looking down to inspect the wound, “I am so sorry. I knew it was too soon for this-”

“No,” She says, hurriedly, “That isn’t what I meant. You didn’t hurt me. I just meant I’d feel better if I went down on you, is all.” 

You stare at her for a moment. Then you smack her arm, gently. 

“You’re such an asshole. I was about to go downstairs for more Codeine.” 

“No Codeine needed. Just you,” She pulls you back down to her, eyes wide, pleading, “Please, baby.” 

You sigh. She’s rubbing your arm, big brown eyes wide, the eyes she flashes at you when she wants something. You press down and kiss her. How could you resist her? She’d just been stabbed for you, after all. 

Her hands squeeze your hips. She sits up, tries to push you over onto the bed. Then she winces as it pulls at her wound the wrong way. 

“Shh, baby, just gently.” You say, easing her back against the pillows. 

You press another kiss to her lips. 

“Come up to me,” She murmurs, hands around your thighs. This time you don’t resist. You tilt your body up, shuffle over her head and let her pull you down, hands locked around your thighs like she wants to keep you in place. 

You grasp at the headboard. 

She moans as her mouth meets your clit. Arousal flushes through you at just how badly she wants this. How badly she needs this. 

She doesn’t waste any time.

You’re already soaked, body still thrumming from the first orgasm she’d given you. You close your eyes, tilt your head back as she lovingly sucks down on you, her fingers splayed against your ass, as she’s trying to pull you in as close as she can get. 

You’re embarrassingly close after only a couple of minutes, body flushed red, hands on your own breasts as you ride her face. You cum with a quiet whine, let her lick and suck her way through your orgasm. 

When it’s over, you slump down into the spot next to her, tilting your head into her shoulder. She licks her lips, cleans you off her. And then nudges her nose against yours, pressing the sweetest of kisses against your lips. 

“I love you,” She murmurs. 

“I love you, too.” You say. Kiss her again. 

She’s a little sleepy. You’ve worn her out. You touch her hip, checking on her dressing once more. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, brushing the strands of dark hair out of her face. 

“It never hurt, I just wanted you to sit on my face,” She admits with a yawn. 

You smile, slightly, entwine your fingers. 

“I know that, genius, you’re hardly Charles Ponzi.”

“Who?” Tara asks, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes droop slightly. You press one more kiss to her lips. 

“Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.” 

“I’m taking first watch,” Tara says, immediately. 

“You’re taking second watch, because you blew it the first time by not waking me up.” You say, settling into her side, “Go to sleep.” 

She relents, dropping her head to the pillow with a tired hum. 

“We should invite Chad, Liv and Mindy over tomorrow.” She says, voice suddenly weighted, “We need a plan.” 

“We don’t need them to have a plan.” You say after a moment. Mindy’s obsession with finding the killer scares you a little. What if she accidentally stumbled upon the truth? You’d rather keep her out of it. 

“I have a hole in my stomach, and a Sam permanently glued to my side,” Tara grumbles, “If we want to catch this guy, we need them.” 

The weight of reality is back. It’s easy to let it go when it’s just you and her, entwined like this. But the moment you stepped outside this room it fell on your shoulders like an anvil.

You’re not safe, Tara isn’t safe.

Not until you catch the fucker.

[rafetopia]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

- 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

pairing: virgin!pope heyward x virgin!fem!reader

genre: soft smut and lots of fluff

words: ~3.8k

warnings: outdoor sex (on a roof), protected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, loss of virginity, mentions of food and alcohol

summary: a date night on the roof and a love confession lead to your first night with your boyfriend

It was a beautiful Saturday night, the sky was clear making all the beautiful stars visible to those who wished to look at them. There was a fresh breeze dancing through the late summer air. It was a quiet night, scattered seagulls were singing in the distance, mixed with the sound waves crashing softly onto the shore.

You were sitting on the roof of “Heyward’s Seafood”, together with Pope, your boyfriend. The two of you had only started dating recently, which added to the slight nervousness you were feeling in your stomach. This obviously wasn’t your first date and yet, something felt different tonight. He was going all out since his parents weren't home tonight. It was their 21st anniversary and like every single year before, Heyward took his wife out for dinner and dancing. Pope had been in charge of closing the store and as soon as he was done, he had invited you to date night on the shop's roof. He knew how much you loved watching the stars at night, it had been your favorite thing to do since you were a little girl.

He had spread out blankets and even made you pasta, your favorite food. Well, all he had to do was cook pasta, roast pine nuts, drown them in pesto, and put some parmesan cheese on top and it still took the best of him. But even after almost dropping the pesto and burning the pine nuts, he still managed to make everything look and taste just as you loved it the most (minus the over-salted penne but you let that one slide because it’s Pope). He even got you that cheap wine you were always dragging around with you when you were hanging out with him and his friends because you knew all they were drinking was beer. JJ used to laugh at you for that, but after multiple smacks to his head by not only Pope but also Sarah, he quickly learned to shut up about your drinking preferences. Pope also knew what a sweet tooth you had, which was why he knew he couldn't miss dessert. He had stored some ice cream in the freezer box, which he had hurled up the tiny ladder. He almost have fallen back down if it wasn't for JJ, who had helped him prepare everything last minute.

“How does it taste? And be honest please, I can handle it.” He asked, his left eyebrow rising as he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You took a second to finish chewing and swallowing but you didn’t need long to think of an answer. “It’s perfect, baby. I love how you made the pine nuts extra roasty.” You smiled genuinely, but Pope seemed to capture your response more critically than you intended.

“I burned them, didn’t I?” He said, all excitement leaving his voice. “I’m so sorry, I knew I should have made new ones…”

“No, no!” You exclaimed as you stuffed the last few noodles into your mouth. “I said they’re perfect, Pope and you know, I never lie.” You smiled, while you tried to chew your food down as fast as possible. “They are way better than when my dad does them.” You added, before taking the empty plate out of his hands and crawling onto his lab.

“I guess that does mean something, considering your dad is a chef at the country club.” He smiled, almost believing you.

“See.” You giggled, as you softly wiped away the stain of red pesto left on his upper lip. “He always takes them out of the pan way too early, you can barely taste that they are supposed to be roasted.”

For normal people, that would have been a lie, because no one on that island was able to cook as well as your dad did, but for your taste buds, they were always way too mild.

He smiled at your statement, even though he knew he kinda fucked up a little bit. But to his advantage, your mind didn’t stay long with the pasta because as soon as you saw the box, something else crossed your mind immediately.

“Baby, what’s in there?” Your eyes lit up as you saw the smile crawling over his lips, knowing exactly what that meant. He knew how much you loved Ice Cream and since everything was (almost) perfect tonight, you knew what must be in there.

You knew you were right when he opened the box and pulled out a box of ice cream and two spoons. “You know I set all this up, so we could watch the stars together and now you’re sitting with your back to them.” He chuckled, softly as he guided a spoon full of Ice cream to your mouth.

“First of all, I can see them behind you, and second of all, you are way prettier than the stars.”

He tried to hide a smile but he was so flustered, it was hard for him. He loved receiving compliments from you but still, he wasn’t very used to them. You loved seeing him like this, you loved getting his cheeks all hot and flustered, it made you giggle and sent even more butterflies through your core.

You took a sip of your wine, that he had even filled into a wine glass. You didn't even know he knew what a wine glass looked like and he probably didn’t and just took the weirdest looking glass in the cabinet but you were still surprised. You were even more surprised that he decided to drink wine with you tonight, knowing he would get teased endlessly for it if his friends saw him. You appreciated what he did for you tonight, so much that you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He always looked pretty but tonight it was different. He was dressed in a black shirt and some black basketball shorts, a look he knew was killing you. You were obsessed with him dressed all in black and you knew exactly that was why he chose this particular outfit tonight.

The two of you kept rambling on about whatever came to your mind while slowly but surely emptying that box of Ice Cream. Well, in the end, it was you who ate most of it, since Pope was the one who did most of the talking. You couldn’t help but smile at every single thing he said, no matter how boring you would normally think the topics were. After a while he stopped talking, as he looked at your smiling face, wondering what it could be that amused you so much.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. You noticed how unsure he got, a normal thing for him when he caught himself talking without a break. “Am I talking too much? I’m talking too much…”

“No, no!” You chuckled, giving him a reassuring smile. “You know I could listen to you for hours.”

You looked down into the no empty Ice Cream box, the feeling of guilt rushing over your face, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I mostly got this for you.” He smiled softly, knowing you would feel bad anyway. “Really baby, you know I don't even like strawberries that much.”

“True.” You chuckled, as leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

He quickly retorted the kiss, putting the empty box away, before placing his hands on your waist. The kiss started slow and sweet but quickly turned more passionate as you felt the wine circulating through your veins, giving you the courage to let your hand travel down to his pants, where your hand started massaging his growing bulge. Quiet moans escaped his lips, as your hand slipped into his pants, and quickly the two of you noticed that night, might be night where you went all the way to the end. When you started dating, you quickly found out and neither of you was very experienced in that matter, which made you decide to wait a little bit. There had been many times where you thought this was the night but you always ended up stopping before the actual act. This time felt different though. His hands had wandered under your dress by now, where he quickly noticed the lack of fabric that came with you only wearing a lace thong.

You smirked as you felt his dick twitching under your touch, combined with the sweet moans escaping his beautiful lips. His hands were now wandering up to your tits, where he once again was met with the lack of fabric. You heard a quiet “damn” escaping his lips, as his thumbs traced over your nipples. You let your head fall back as his lips traveled over your neck, kissing every single inch of your skin. You tried to control your moans but the sensation from his thumbs on your nipples and his tongue on your neck was too much for you to stay quiet.

“Baby…” You whispered, your hands finding their way back inside his pants.

“I know.” He mumbled between his kisses, before turning his attention back to your mouth.

Before he could do anything, you had pushed your tongue inside him, not caring to wait for him to take the lead. You gently slid under his pants, so you were holding his hard dick in your hands. You slowly let your hand wander up and down, while your thumb brushed over his tip. You knew how much he loved it when you did that, his twitching erection being the proof. His right hand was now sliding down to your thong, where he laid his finger on your soaking, but still covered clit. This wasn't the first time he made you wet like that but it was the first time you thought it might lead to more. You needed more of him and as if he could read your thoughts, he gently pushed the fabric to the side, before placing his finger back on your clit.

The sudden feeling of direct skin contact, made you moan out loud even louder. He noticed how needy you grew, so you let his fingers trace over your entrance, causing you to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I…?” He asked carefully, not being sure if he was going too fast.

“Please.” You whispered, nodding in support of your answer.

He was so gentle as he let his fingers slide inside you. You were already soaking wet but he was so scared of hurting you that he took them back out just to spit on them. You didn’t expect him to do something like that but it only made you want him more. He gently pushed them back inside, causing you to gasp out in pleasure. You shot him an assuring smile before leaning back in for a kiss. You let your hand slide up and down his length while he pushed his fingers back and forth into your core. He started slow but soon began to match your movements, which made it very hard for you to concentrate.

“Pope…” You whispered, “I… I love you.”

He stopped and looked at you, eyes widened in surprise and you were just as surprised as he was. “I…” You stumbled, but he placed his index finger under your chin and guided it up, so you’d look him in the eyes.

“I love you too.” He smiled. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you moved here.”

“But Pope, that was in third grade.” You chuckled, now your eyes were filled with surprise.

“I know.”

This was enough to send you over the edge. You smashed your lips back into his, without leaving him any room to breathe. After what felt like hours, you stopped. “I’m ready. Need to feel you inside me.” You whispered.

He stopped his movements as the excitement rushed all over him. “You sure?”

"Absolutely." You smiled, “If you are.”

“100%!” He exclaimed. “But I don’t… JJ gave me one but It’s downstairs… I think.” He mumbled, earning nothing but a smile from you.

You leaned in for a kiss and whispered: “Pocket inside my bag.”

Pope internally smiled at the way you were always prepared for everything. It was one of the reasons he was so in love with you. He gently pulled your dress over your head, leaving you all exposed in front of him. He took a second to admire your beauty before you pulled off his shirt. You too, needed a second to take him in. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him like this before, you did countless times at the beach but you fell in love with him all over again every time.

“God you’re so pretty.” You mumbled, leaving him all shy and flustered.

“I believe that’s my line, baby.”

“But you’re pretty too.” You giggled.

He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss, while his hands wandered from your waist down to your ass. Your hands were placed on his soft-toned chest, feeling his muscles playing beneath his skin. You were still sitting on top of him, so he signaled you to get up, for him to be able to pull off his pants. Once they were off, he told you to lie down and climbed on top of you. You pulled him in for more kisses, while his hand wandered down to your thong. He easily let his fingers slide under the fabric, his touch sending goosebumps all over your skin. He let his thumb dance over your clit, while his index finger slid inside. You let out a loud moan, leaving a smirk all over his face. It quickly turned into an expression of slight embarrassment, as he remembered where the two of you were at.

"What's wrong?” You asked slightly confused.

“Nothing baby, it's just… what if anyone hears us?”

“Then let them hear us.” You giggled, “But I can try to be more quiet if you want.”

“You know what? No.” He grinned, the thought of other people hearing how good he made you feel suddenly turned him on more than he thought.

And he did make you feel very, very good. The thought of actually being vulnerable like that for someone had always freaked you out a little bit but with him it was different. He made you nervous but not in a bad way. You were nervous indeed, but it was more exciting than anything else.

The deeper his fingers dug inside you, the more you wanted him. Your left hand was placed on his shoulder, while your right one was looking for your bag. You grabbed it and pulled out a tiny colorful package.

“Are you ready?” You asked, earning a nod from your boyfriend.

“Are you?”

“Hmm… I think so?” You answered, more unsure than sure.

“I uhmm… I can…” He stuttered, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

With that, he went down but not without covering your body in kisses, causing you to giggle at the sensation. The moment his tongue met your folds, your giggle turned into moans. You had never felt this way before, as he had never used his tongue on you before. He struggled at first, not really knowing what to do but the louder your moans got, the more confident he became. Pope had always been a quick learner so it didn't take long until he had figured it out. He twisted his tongue inside, hitting exactly where you needed him to hit. He even added his thumb to your clit for support- causing you to see stars even though you had closed your eyes.

You felt something in you tighten, it was unfamiliar but it felt so good and it got only stronger the faster and more eager he got. Before you knew it, your high rushed over you, causing you to almost scream his name into the night. Your angled legs slid down next to his, as you desperately tried to contain your voice. Your hands that were tangled in his hair cramped together, sending a slight pain through his head but in this moment, Pope would’ve rather died than stopping you in any way. He looked up at you, trying to get a quick glance at you since he had never seen a girl orgasm before, at least not outside of the internet and most definitely not caused by himself. He was so amazed by your beauty, that he didn’t realize he was still staring once you opened your eyes again.

“What?” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “Did you just watch me? Oh my god, how embarrassing.” You mumbled as you felt your cheeks turning all hot.

“You are so damn beautiful, you have no idea.” He said, his fingers softly caressing over your thighs. “This was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Then you really should look into the mirror more often, pretty boy.” You grinned, before signaling him to come closer and kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips and to your surprise, it was better than you had always imagined. “I think now I'm ready.” You giggled, as you let your hand travel down to his underwear.

You let your hand slide under the fabric, where you quickly felt him harden under your touch. You handed him the condom and he removed his boxers. You were sitting next to him, preparing the extra blanket he had brought, while he tried to roll over the condom, struggling.

“Here, let me help you.” You said, as you led your hand slide over his length, up and down until he was more than ready. Pope’s mind had already drifted back to pleasure land, but you were able to roll it over with ease. You laid yourself back on the blanket, as he crawled on top of you. You swung the other blanket over him, which earned you an appreciative “thank you” from your boyfriend. You spread your legs as he was looking to push it in but you both soon found out that it was actually way easier if you guided him.

The moment he slid inside you, you both let out a moan, almost synchronized. It did hurt a little bit though, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. “We can stop if it hurts, I’ll stop.”

“No.” You whispered, “It does hurt a little bit but I’m sure it will stop soon. You did good preparation work.” You smirked, causing him to smile himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say it okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You smiled, before pulling him in for a soft kiss.

He slowly continued his movements, careful not to hurt you. He enjoyed every second of it but couldn't get the thought out of his head that it might not feel the same for you. He got convinced quickly though, when your hands traveled down his back, nails digging deep into his skin, so deep that he was sure it would be visible tomorrow morning.

“Just like that, baby.” You moaned out, “You can even go faster if you want, it doesn't hurt anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes baby, please.”

With that, he sped up his pace, still careful but faster than before. He was close to you, legs angled and face over yours, because there wasn't a second where he didn’t want to look into your eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, which you retorted quickly, while you wrapped your legs around his torso, pushing the blanket off him in the process. You would’ve been sorry but you needed him to be as close as possible to you and judging by the sweat on his skin, he didn’t seem to mind much. With your newfound position, you were able to push him even deeper into you, a fact both of you welcomed very much. As his movements got faster, your moans got louder and he soon realized that he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Your nails dug deeper into his skin and he wanted to hold out longer for you but it grew harder and harder for him to do so. Especially as soon as you moved your lips to his neck, which almost sent him over the edge.

“Faster baby, can you go faster?” You moaned out, to which he sped up his movements.

“Fuck…” He whispered, and soon after, his orgasm washed over him.

He sounded so beautiful, as he moaned into your ear, so loudly, that you were sure someone must've heard the two of you. As soon as he felt like himself again, he collapsed on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your body, and laid his head on your chest, perfect for you to straddle his head. You loved tracing your fingers through his locks, and he did as well since it always helped him calm down. You were somehow able to grab the blanket that you had lost earlier, so you covered the two of you with it. Your fingers went back to straddling his head, and before you knew it your eyes fell shut. You both were tired, so tired that you were pretty sure you both fell asleep for a few minutes. As soon as your eyes were met with the beautiful night sky once again, you tried to wake up your sleepy boyfriend.

“Pope baby, wake up.”

“Hmm, too comfy.” He mumbled, and you were pretty sure he fell back asleep right after.

“Baby, you are still wearing the condom, we need to get cleaned up.” You chuckled, as you tried to keep yourself awake. “I don't want it to get lost in me.” You added, as you once again tried to shake him awake, less gently this time.

“Hmm, am wake.” He mumbled as he lifted his head.

“Careful, baby.”

He carefully sat himself up and pulled out of you. To your surprise, everything went over smoothly and you were able to get up without leaving behind a mess. He wrapped it up in some tissue and the two of you got dressed.

“I’m pretty sure my parents are back by now.” He said as you gathered all the things he brought on the roof.

“If so, they probably heard us. And if that’s the case I’ll never be able to look them in the eyes ever again.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yep.”

You were lucky, Heward's truck wasn’t there yet when they climbed down the roof. The two of you put everything away. When you fell into bed a few minutes later, he pulled his arm around you so you could snuggle your head onto his body. You both fell asleep within seconds but more connected and in love with each other, than ever before.

add yourself to my obx tag list here

[notthecommercialism]

Alenoah thought to chew on a little

What if they were childhood friends that reunited on world tour?

Imagine if both of them used to be enrolled in this special gifted children program when they were like 6-7

And little Alejandro just breezing through the program, leaving everybody in the dirt except for one other participant there

Like they just have this entirely one sided academic rivalry as little children because Alejandro is fuming that there’s this other kid that always manages to score *slightly* higher than him hahahahahhahha

So at that age I’m assuming that while Alejandro can mask his emotions way better than the average 6-7 year old, he’s still a 6-7 year old so his thinly veiled envy is immediately picked up on by Noah

And then one day it just culminates to Noah point blank asking him “why are you so upset? It’s just a few marks at best.”

Tiny Spanish overachiever rendered speechless at his candidness because to him it *is* a huge deal while to his sworn rival (all in his head) those points are treated like nothing

Err ok this is actually getting longer than I anticipated but essentially it boils down to

Alejandro —> Noah

Seething childish fury at being bested mixed in with begrudging admiration at Noah’s capabilities. He can’t really tell if he wants to best him or be with him because everybody else in the program doesn’t catch his interest but Noah’s complacent attitude infuriates him—

Noah —> Alejandro

Just some uptight weirdo hahahahahahahah

Now this arrangement lasts for a few years? Maybe until they reach 10-11? Throughout the years they never really became close friends but they’re definitely familiar with one another since by that point, over half of the original group has since dropped out, leaving the highest scorers behind to continue on

Alejandro’s envy and admiration grew as well since Noah has consistently been the top of the class for years with him always getting second

However, he starts to notice Noah changing as well. He’s starting to fall asleep in lessons and he’s getting increasingly grouchy

It all comes to an end when Alejandro shows up one day and suddenly he’s now top of the class. He asks the teacher what happened to Noah and he’s told that he dropped out.

Yes, I’m putting that burnt out gifted kid energy into everything like it’s cheese on pasta

So now he has the position he’s always been vying for. Getting it like this feels a little hollow though.

Fast forward to world tour and Alejandro has the shocking realisation that the kid he used to look up to like an unattainable star turned into a giant sloth hahahahahaahahhahaha

This is just a small thought I’ve been thinking of. No clue what to do with it so here’s this post!

I just think these two having the dynamic of estranged childhood friends is pretty neat

[toulousewayne]

Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 2

Dick and Tim have the most inside jokes,Jason ignores them and Damian is but jealous. But the two bonded a lot before the arrival/return of the other two.

Jason takes his little brothers to Diner’s at 2 am. Alfred would rather he do it during regular hours,but then he remembers they’re nighttime activities and is just happy he’s not trying to shoot them.

Talia before having Damian loved seeing a young Dick Grayson as Robin.He was so full of cheer and it warmed Talia’s heart, she hoped to have a son as bright as him. (She did he’s just a little shy)

Cass doesn’t have her drivers license and prefers to be passenger princess.

Duke has naturally curly hair but cuts most of the time for easier management.

Jason can mimic voices the best. He can do a pretty decent Bruce Wayne impression and it has made Bruce ask his children multiple times if he sounds like that. Alfred gets a chuckle out of it too.

The Robins most definitely play pricks on JL members who annoy their Dad, that’s there job. Hal goes to pay his bills and all his passwords have been changed, Oliver is getting dressed for a party and all his clothes are pink.

Bruce is a big baby when he’s sick. He cannot find for hisself and his family take turns caring for him. Jason makes him soup, Tim gives him medicine, Damian and Duke make him rest, The girls block him from working on cases files and Alfred makes sure he has plenty of fluids. And if that fails they call in the big guns. Diana.

Speaking of Wonder Woman, she visits the Manor every Sunday and her and Damian feed and pet his animals.

Tim,Jason and Dick all have “R” tattoos. Dick promised Damian he could get on when he turns 18, and they let Damian sketch it too.

Dick’s is on his right hip, Jason’s is on his left wrist, and Tim’s is on his right ankle.

Stephanie and Selina are tied for the most ear piercings.

Jason is the only former Robin who can drive stick currently. Dick hasn’t done it in years but probably could after a few lessons, Tim never learned, Damian can but prefers not to. Jason is currently teaching Duke and Steph and had regretted it ever since.

Alfred enjoys making lunches for everyone still. Some days he gets to make everyone lunch. He first makes Damian(PB&J with crust cut off, and cut into triangles) and Duke’s(Ham and cheese toasted sandwich with pickles slices) school lunches.

Bruce usually leaves for the office before breakfast so when Tim eventually comes downstairs Alfred will have his breakfast Togo and both their lunches. (Usually for B it’s a BLT with turkey bacon and cheese. And Tim’s is Tuna and Swiss on whole grain bread.)

Dick on Tuesdays and Friday’s, sometimes Sundays spends the night the prior at the Manor. He’s usually the only home so Alfred can make whatever he wants for lunch. He’s top two favorite lunches are Janija one of the only dishes Alfred can make that tastes similar to how Dick’s Mom prepared it. And Bangers and Mash. When he first arrived he say Alfred eating this and wanted to try it. He always requests this dish,but only if he can eat it with Alfred.

Jason likes either Club subs or a simple pasta with fresh spinach and a cream sauce.

Depending on the day Alfred will drop off lunch to the Clocktower for Barbara and the girls. Sometimes the other birds are in town and he always knows when to make extra. Most of the times me it’s wrapped sandwiches a mix of cold cuts and vegetarian options. Barbara always get turkey with cheddar, Steph gets chicken salad on a croissant bread and Cass gets ham and cheese pinwheels.

He even makes weekly meals and drops them off for the Titans and Young Justice. Seeing as most of them cannot cook. He packs extra knowing their speedsters on each time. Looking at you Wally and Bart. They’re all just grateful they don’t have to eat Pizza or Big Belly Burger for a few nights. Dick enjoys when Alfred visits and so does Kory. Tim and his friends are over the moon to have Alfred visit them too, and Bart even makes request for his next meal.

The league even gets random lunch. They return from training and find fresh out meals at the sits. Batman just shrugs but Superman and Wonder Woman make him call Alfred so he can be thanked.

Sunday’s are days that’s it mandatory for everyone to come for dinner. Once a Month several members are the League are expected to come for dinner and everyone better be on their best behavior.No wants an angry butler, so everyone always attends.

Jason and Duke are the only people allowed to help with preparing food, Dick isn’t allowed because he sampled everything to the point he’s eaten half of the dish. Tim and Damian are assigned to setting the table. And Bruce must stay either in the living room or dinning room if Alfred even hears the grandfather clock tick he’s going to skin a bat.

Cass enjoys getting ingredients from the fridge and pantry for them. And Stephanie is on Bruce Watch, if he moves she sprays him with water like a misbehaving kitten.

Most the the time Barbara is greeting the guests and depending on is Stephanie is needed to help bring the food out Barbara will have Bruce greet everyone with her. She especially makes him greet Green Arrow and Green Lantern.

Sometimes Alfred asks other to bring dishes for a potluck.Clark will usually bring Jon,Lois and Conner with him and he’ll bring pies. Diana always bring Donna. Usually they bring wines and vegetables.Ollie and Dinah usually are late but the bring brownies and cobbler, Roy and Lian bring meatballs, Hal brings beer and he’s makes a mean Mac and cheese on his smoker, Barry and Iris bring sodas, Arthur provides fresh fish, and J’onn brings a tasty and beautiful charcuterie board.

It’s a blast and all the kids have fun too with their friends and Alfred swears he sees Bruce double over laughing at Hal and Barry fighting for the last brownie.

All in all the butler that would take on the entire League of Doom himself enjoys making food for his family and spending with them too.

[berylcups]

haiiiii :3 could i perchance request some melone headcanons......... any kind of headcanons, that's totally up to you!! im in need of more content of my favorite purple haired freak :3

Melone HCs?! Now how can I say no to that? 😄 I’ve thought long and hard about this purple blorbo and squeezed all of my thoughts out on here! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of this adorable freak! 💜 Beryl

🍈Melone HCs🍈

CW: This IS Melone we’re talking about so…. Beware the lewdness!

Notes: this is technically number 2 in my list but I thought I’d send this one out first since it got completed first. And it will give you all something to nibble on while I finish up number 1 and start on number 3! 😄 I hope you all enjoy ! 💜 Beryl

This guy sucks at cooking. The most he can do is microwave ramen, Mac and cheese, and boil pasta. 😭

He genuinely thinks pineapple is an ok topping for a pizza. Not bad not great…just OK. The squad is offended and speechless about his apathy of fruit being on a pizza . But his rebuttal is-tomato is a fruit and it’s on a pizza. Someone needs to hold Ghiaccio back because he’s ready to THROW HANDS.🙌

He’s the biggest Anti-hydro homie ever. He HATES drinking plain water. 💧 He only drinks coffee, tea, soda, energy drinks, juice, and alcohol. How does he have clear skin?! He uses lots of trendy face creams and just has good genetics. Lucky bastard.😩

He thinks cola and root beer is the nastiest drink imaginable. He calls it the “black bile” based off the 4 humors of the human body.

He forgets to eat…It’s so bad that he gets a little snarky and Ghiaccio kindly reminds him by saying “oi Melone! Quit acting like a cunt and go eat something for fucks sake!”

He stays up ridiculously late. If he’s not pulling an all-nighter, he’s going to bed by 4am.

He sleeps in his underwear…and it’s a thong. 😳 he used to sleep nude but he also sleeps walks occasionally and nobody wants to see his junk so the team forced him to AT LEAST sleep in underwear!

Believe it or not, his natural hair color is purple! He only dyed it blonde to disguise himself for a mission.

He lost his tonsils from getting too many strep throat infections as a kid. He wanted to keep the removed tonsils but his mom said no. 😞

He’s not hairy but he does wax his entire body. No razor, no hair removal creams…just good ol wax. Ouch. 😬 his skin is as smooth as a dolphin.

His perfume/cologne smells like cucumber melon, green tea, and a citrus blend. Mmm…He’s fruity smelling!

He has a insane 4-5 step system when he washes his hair. He’s used to the warm water going cold on him in the middle of his showering routine. He must put up with the chills in order to have the best hair in the squad! …illuso totally isn’t seething with jealousy btw.

Melone was born and raised in Venezia with Ghiaccio as his best friend growing up. His venetian accent isn’t heavy like Ghiaccios.

He’s 25 years old and identifies as nonbinary. Melone is pretty lax with his pronouns but identifies as they/them it/its and he/him.

His sexuality? It’s yes please! 😄 He’s on board to get down with anyone! He has no preference when it comes to gender…you just need to have an open mind! Although, there are bonus points to be given out if you’re physically able (and consenting) to bear children. If not, he definitely won’t hold it against you! He’s DTF and ready to sweep you off your feet!

This guy has no ass but he can dance like he has one. Twerking and grinding his way at the club hopefully into someone’s pants. 😳

This inhuman human can swallow a banana WHOLE. He has no gag reflex, the dentists love him. Take that information for what you will.

He absolutely HATES snakes. Just the sight of them will make him gag 😭. He’s cool with other reptiles though. Just keep snakes away from him. 🐍

He can’t tell what he likes more-cats or dogs. He likes cats because they are independent and clean but…they like to scratch. He likes dogs because they’re loyal and friendly but… they can poo everywhere. It’s a difficult decision for him to decide! He’ll settle with a reptile like a chameleon. 🦎

He went to university for Botanical studies. He has a hobby for horticulture and beekeeping.

He also dabbles in astrology and reading fortunes through palm reading. (Usually by licking your hand 😬)

He has shaky hands. He doesn’t have great dexterity due to all the caffeine he drinks. He wants to paint his nails but it always looks messy. 😬 so he’s stuck using clear nail polish unless he has enough money to go to the nail salon. 💅

He’s an avid video gamer. His console of choice is the PC, but isn’t interested the console vrs PC wars. If there’s a game he likes and it’s only available on a certain platform, he’s going to get it. Ghiaccio, Formaggio, and Pesci are welcome to his consoles but they need their own controller. He doesn’t want no cheeto hands in his squeaky clean controllers! (This is mostly a rule for formaggio since he snacks and plays.) And no touching Melones laptop! That’s his baby—Babyface. And there’s cursed things you might find on there. 🥴

He’s the best at rhythm games while Ghiaccio is the best at racing games. They both rival each other when it comes to puzzle games.

🔥 Spicy HCs 🔥

According to him, the first time he ever got an erection was when he saw a high heel shoe ad in his moms Vogue Italia. He stole that page and “discovered “ himself. 😳 his mom did catch him and she tells this embarrassing story to her friends and family and social gatherings. Yikes 😬

This guy eats ass/pussy like groceries. Like a man who hasn’t eaten in DAYS. He’s a part of the clean plate club if you know what I mean. 😏 you don’t? Well uh… he good at oral idk 🤷‍♀️

Majority of the time he is a bottom. He’ll dom if you want him to. He’s a slut he’ll do ANYTHING you want.

His top kinks are feet, latex, body worship, and breeding (giving and receiving).

His favorite position is doggy, reverse cowgirl, and the classic mating press. This goes for him and his partner.

His favorite times to do it is shower time and when you both wake up. There’s just something about lazily screwing you from behind as he spoons you. It’s his drug and reason for living.

Despite his promiscuous demeanor he doesn’t have one night stands often. He much rather find his soulmate.

He prefers to only use surrogates for babyface that he deems “human trash “. The most toxic of the toxic cruelest ueterus havers. He would never use a good person as materials for his stand. He doesn’t have the heart to believe it or not. His apathy only extends to violent cruel people.

When he finds someone he’s interested in he falls hard. He does want to fuck them ASAP but he wants to treat them like the monarch like they are.

King of aftercare! He’s going to talk sweetly to you and cuddle with you. He’s gonna tend to your bruises, Make a bath for you, clean his fluids off of you, make you something to drink…anything you want 💜

More than likely you will probably be bruising him since he loves being your bottom, but he will still try to give you aftercare after you rode him for over an hour straight. 😅 Be firm and tell him no and give him the same care he gives you. You’ll melt his heart!

[meetmymouth]

i’m on the roof… (2)

read previous part here

notes: angst (with a happy ending), ex!harry, alcohol consumption, use of she/her. love is a game for fools to play and all that :-)

“You sound like a fridge magnet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeff turns around, iced drink still in hand– the other holding a colour-block jumper.

She shrugs– it seems like shrugging and pursing her lips are the only reactions she’s exercised since that night.

“Means you’re talking shit, I’m bored,” she sniffs, wandering her hands between racks of clothing.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re giving me that– that pathetic look; the look you all give me when I do or say something sad,” she walks a bit further away from him, but is still within earshot.

Jeff stops, and turns his whole body to where she is. She picks up a crop top, and purses her lips– again.

Jeff sighs, and shakes his drink, the ice making a pleasant sound in the plastic. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

With a roll of her eyes, she sits on one of the stools. She looks away, heart heavy, and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

“What?” She asks.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he copies the shrug she gave him earlier.

“What, Jeff?”

“Just–” he says, shrugging again. “Just ask me.”

“Ask you, what?”

“Him.”

Almost shivering, she abandons the stool, and carries on walking.

They pay, and leave the shop, the both of them carrying a bag each. Jeff walks behind her, trying to keep up with her quick steps.

“Can you just–” he calls behind her, a few people turning their way to see what the fuss is about. She laughs, and turns her head his way, noticing how he’s trying to keep up with her. “Slow down?”

She stops walking, and he runs into her, chest making contact with her back.

“Wow, just– wow,” pushing her, she starts walking again, steps much slower and sluggish than before. “You need therapy.”

She lets out a laugh, adjusting the canvas bag on her shoulder. “I am in therapy.”

“Well, clearly it’s not working.”

“It would, if you just fucked off. Both of you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jeff bumps their shoulders together.

“I do, I really do.”

“Hm.”

They walk some more, and they stop in front of the gates that lead to Jeff’s house.

“Wanna come in?”

She hums, though her legs don't move– she stays put.

It’s not a ‘yes’.

She looks up at the house in the distance, and sighs. Her eyes look for something in the distance, something up there, and when she spots the roof, her heart feels like someone’s squeezing it– as if they’re trying to get rid of excess water from a wet t-shirt.

If Jeff weren’t there, she thinks she would start hyperventilating, or perhaps start crying. How pathetic, she thinks.

“I”ll just,” she takes a step forward, watching as the gates start opening. “Get my car and go home.”

“Just come inside.”

“I’ll go.”

There’s a moment of silence, and he watches her with that same look in his eyes. The look he gave her that night– the look they all give her from time to time whenever she runs into them, or sees them out and about, or at gatherings.

She doesn’t like it– she can’t stand it.

“I’ll go,” she says, again, and Jeff lets her walk ahead.

She watches the gates to Jeff’s house get smaller and smaller from the rear-view window.

A sob escapes her mouth.

*

It looks pathetic, she thinks, the pasta in that ugly bowl.

It’s lacking a lot of things– it’s lacking basil, lemon slices, grated cheese that laid perfectly on top.

It’s lacking passion.

Love.

“This is shit.”

Sarah looks up from her own bowl of pasta, tomato sauce painting her already red lips, and a choked laugh leaves her mouth.

“What?”

“It tastes okay.”

“So?” Sarah asks, adjusting her body on the sofa, leaning back in her seat. They both look at the cold Rosé on the coffee table, though Sarah’s eyes find her face after a few seconds.

“It’s bland,” she shrugs, chewing the food with disdain.

Sarah shrugs, reaching for her wine glass. “I think it’s fine.”

The answer makes her groan. She looks up at her. “That’s the thing!” She insists, eyes wide open.

Sarah mimics her, clearly surprised at the sudden outburst. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing– everything. Nothing at all.”

“So,” she takes a sip from the cold wine. “Bolognese is a sore topic, I’m guessing?”

“It definitely isn’t. It’s just pasta, Sarah.”

“Wow,” she laughs. “You’re giving me a whiplash. How’s–”

“If one more person asks me about therapy, I will kill myself in front of you all. Just like that.”

Sarah gulps, clearly trying to digest not only the pasta, but also her words.

“Okay, well…”

“Sorry,” she bites her bottom lip. “I’m– I’ve been on edge. Mercury and all that.”

Sarah nods, very slowly, like she’s trying to make sense of everything she’s been saying for the last ten minutes.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Besides,” she clears her throat, and wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I’m very tired. You know the shelves I ordered last week?”

“Yeah…”

“They got here yesterday. Couldn’t sleep at all last night– been trying to mount them on the wall and they kept falling so I had to watch a lot of videos because did you know they don’t really give you nice instructions on those papers?”

“Oh?” Sarah bites her lip, watching her intently.

“Mhm. The writing is so small as well, so I had to download it online. Couldn’t understand shit,” she lets out a laugh– pasta forgotten. “I was going to call my– my friend, but figured he’d be sleeping, you know? So I tried going back to sleep but– well, couldn’t.”

“Okay,” Sarah says her name, clearly trying to stop the pathetic rambling.

She fails.

“It was too late. I started cleaning the guest bedroom. Found a lot of shit from when– you know. Apparently I hide everything under the bed,” she laughs.

She laughs, and laughs, then stops.

The bowl nearly tips over, but she stops it.

She lets out another chuckle, then it turns into a sob.

She doesn't even realise Sarah getting up from the sofa, grabbing the pasta bowl and placing it on the coffee table next to their wine glasses. Despite everything being too quiet, aside from her sobs, she feels as though there’s a storm outside– if she looks up, she’s almost certain she’s going to spot the palm trees surrounding her house swaying left and right, creating a scene much like the ones in horror films.

She hears Sarah muttering her name, trying to wrap her arms around her, but she feels put; she can’t make noise, nor move.

“Deep breaths,” Sarah is saying. “Take deep breaths, come back to me, come on– it’s okay. You’re okay– you’re here…”

*

Sundays are slow.

Sundays are reserved for quiet days, and charging up, soaking some sunshine– just overall, taking it easy.

Instead, she finds herself on the kitchen floor, “Killing Me Softly” playing loudly–very loudly–in the background as she tries to find her earring.

It’s here somewhere, she hears her own voice mumble to no one in particular. She looks everywhere, but as soon as her hand touches the pink rug, she freezes.

She feels the soft material of the rug– though it doesn’t feel as soft as it did when it was first bought. It feels coarse, like you’re petting a horse, and she’s never particularly liked the feeling. She looks at it, still on her knees, the small, hoop earring long-forgotten as the pink rug fills her vision. It’s so vibrant– so, so bright compared to everything in the kitchen that she finds herself crying at the sight.

She finds her phone in no time.

“What?”

“Tom?”

She hears Tom laugh. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see it was you calling.”

“Can– what are you doing?”

A pause.

Then, he clears his throat.

“Nothing– nothing in particular. What’s up? Are you in LA?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m– I’m at home,” she nods, forgetting the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Okay… you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Okay– are you– are you sure?”

“Tom?”

“Yes?” Tom answers back.

She gulps. Hand still feeling the pink rug.

Her knees are starting to hurt.

“Do you remember that pink rug we had in my kitchen?”

Another pause follows.

“Yes…”

“I don’t really– I hate it.”

Tom doesn’t answer for a while.

She hears shuffling on his end.

“You don’t like the rug– uh huh– yes.”

“It’s, well, it’s ugly. I’ve never liked it. I don’t– like it.”

“Do you–” he says her name, and it sounds like a plea. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No– yes. I don’t know, why?”

He chuckles. “I dunno, I thought you might need another pair of eyes to judge the rug.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I… don’t think so.”

“What? Do you want me to come over?” He asks. Again.

“I do.”

Some more shuffling, and she hears his voice.

Where is she?

“Tom?”

“Yes, love? I’ll be there–”

“–Am I on speaker? Did you put me on speaker?” She asks, disdain clear in her voice.

A jingle of keys, and she hears everything clearer now. “No, not anymore, sorry,” Tom answers, and she hears a door slamming shut.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. Stay where you are.”

“On the floor?” She tries to joke, but she has an epiphany.

It’s all so pathetic.

She is pathetic.

“Well– no, not on the floor. Sit on a sofa or something.”

“The pink rug?” She finds herself asking meekly.

Tom laughs. “Keep it.”

She only gets on her feet when Tom calls her, letting her know he’s outside the gates. It takes him about three minutes to get to her front door, and when she opens the door, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, he gives her that same look everybody’s been giving her for a while. It’s not sad– they don’t exactly look sad; they just look worried.

She decides she doesn’t like it.

“Can I come in?” He says, feet already carrying him inside.

She doesn’t respond, just watches him walk inside, and take his shoes off.

They just stand there for a bit, until Tom nods–more to himself–before wrapping his arms around her.

She shakes like a leaf, sobbing and wetting the white t-shirt he has on.

His hug feels like Harry’s, perhaps it’s because they’re best friends.

It feels warm, and safe, his embrace.

She basks in it, hugging him tighter as he sways them in the middle of her entrance. He doesn’t say anything, just lets her cry into his t-shirt. Only when she stops he grabs her by the forearm, and helps her sit on the sofa.

Curling into herself, she closes her eyes.

She hears him call her name.

“What?”

“You need to– this needs to stop,” Tom lifts her legs, and moves them on his lap, getting comfortable on the green sofa.

“I can’t.”

He clears his throat. “If you just spoke to him…”

“No. Absolutely not,” she visibly shudders at the thought of seeing him, talking to him again.

Purely because she knows she will give in.

“This can’t go on like this, you know that, right?”

“Why not?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone goes off with a phone call.

He takes it out of his pocket, and sighs– presses the side button to silence it as it keeps ringing.

She can see the screen– the call is still incoming.

“Who is it?” She asks, knowing she has no right to.

“It’s– fine.”

“What’s fine? Who is it? Is it Jenny?” She murmurs, throwing one of the throw pillows on the floor so she can lean back on the sofa. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Tom nods.

She groans, feeling hot all of a sudden. Another wave of tears hit her, and she feels them rolling down her cheek.

She looks at her hands on her lap. She plays with her ring. “Why– were you together– when I called?”

“Yeah,” Tom nods again, voice quiet.

They fall silent for a while, before they both flinch at the sound of her doorbell going off.

“Who the fuck–”

Tom stands up, and she holds him by the arm.

“I’ll answer it,” he says.

“What? No– this is my house.”

“You look like– well…”

It’s too late, though, because he watches her walk to her front door.

Whoever is at the door presses the doorbell once again, but she stops in her tracks; she can’t move.

It’s weird, because whoever is on the other side of the door, is someone who knows the code to her gates, and they probably know the security outside for them to be able to walk freely to her front door.

Whoever is on the other side of her door, shouldn’t be him.

But, as always, life has unpleasant surprises for her.

It is him.

She catches a whiff of Harry as soon as she opens the door, and she feels her legs give up, though she finds it in herself to hold on to the door.

“Go,” she can only say. “Please, go.”

He takes a step back. “I’m– I can’t.”

It feels weird, almost nostalgic, hearing his voice.

It’s deep, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. But, at the same time, it feels fond, hearty…

“Harry,” she whispers.

Her insides fill with relief and chaos at the same time, just from hearing his name coming out of her own mouth.

He responds, saying her name back.

“Don’t make me leave,” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t– I can’t leave. Not now. Not when I’m here– not when you’re in front of me.”

She lets out a whine, the wind from the outside sends a chill down her spine. Harry stays put; it looks like he’s not even breathing, not saying anything– just staring at her. He looks like he’s about to drop to his knees, and cry. Glossy eyes meet hers, and she sees him take a step forward, toes almost touching.

“Let me–” Harry whispers, voice cracking. He sounds like he’s breaking. He doesn’t finish his sentence, he just– he waits.

She’d forgotten about Tom until she feels his presence behind her and they both turn to him, the blond man giving her a sheepish smile.

“You called him,” she says, matter-of-factly, ears feeling warm. Anger and shame.

Tom looks at Harry, a silent conversation happening between them for a second before he turns to her.

“I didn’t call him–”

“–He didn’t, I was with him when you called. I knew he would be here,” Harry murmurs.

She doesn’t say anything, instead, she watches Tom contemplate for a few seconds before he sighs. “I’m gonna– I’ll leave.”

“Tom…”

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll come back. You know I will.”

“Tom, please.”

Harry cuts her off, says her name, and she turns to him again, completely ignoring Tom who quickly brushes past them and walks towards the gates.

“Harry,” she says. “Please leave, I can’t do this right now.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Harry? Just fucking leave. I don’t have the strength to do this with you– to argue, to fight with you. I’m done– there’s nothing left in me to do this with you,” she waves her hands in the air, and Harry gulps.

He’s nervous.

“Don’t, then. Don’t argue with me– don’t fight with me, let’s just– let’s just be.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiles, it’s barely there, but she can tell by his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly. “Yes.”

“Fuck off,” she takes a step back. Harry follows.

“I know.”

She leaves him there, and walks inside the living room, feet carrying her back to the sofa. She sits, leans back, and closes her eyes.

She feels him staring, even with her eyes closed.

That’s the problem, really.

She knows him. She feels him– all the time.

“I hate you,” she whispers, eyes now open. “I hate you so much.”

Harry doesn’t sit– he just stands there, by the console table. “I know.”

“Stop–” she averts her gaze to the ceiling. “–Stop repeating yourself.”

“I want to apologise.”

“For?”

“For– everything. For that night. And before that.”

“And before that, as well?” She asks, playing with the pillow on her lap.

“For everything, yeah.”

“Did you apologise to her, as well?” She tries to find his gaze, though he doesn’t give in.

He can’t even look at her.

His gaze stays on his shoes, hands trembling at his side.

“I did.”

She lets out a chuckle filled with bitterness. It’s cold, and it’s nasty.

She feels nasty.

“I feel nasty,” she says. She means it.

“I do, too.”

“Why– how did this happen?” She looks around, then back at him.

Their gazes find each other.

Harry sits on the edge of the sofa. They’re closer now.

“I don’t know, but I’m sorry for everything.”

“Why did you come?”

“I wanted to see you,” Harry turns his face, and she catches a glimpse of the shadows on his face.

He looks tired.

“I’m not well.”

“I know.”

She lets out a laugh. “Not your fault, though, I mean– I let you do this to me, to us,” she clears her throat.

“Can I– how can I fix this?”

“You can’t.”

“Please…” He almost whines. She closes her eyes. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me.”

“I do– I always do. I need you all the time,” he gets up, gets on his knees. It’s all so fast that she’s worried he might bruise his knees. “I’m selfish– I’m horrible, I know. But, I need you, I–”

“–Don’t say it,” she shakes her head, watches him come closer to her, on his knees in front of her. “Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

“I love you.”

“No,” it’s frantic, the shaking of her head. She feels cold. “No. Don’t.”

“I love you. I think– I think I’ll always love you, always need you. I’m not– I can’t do it without you.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“What?”

“Harry, just–” she gets on her feet, walks past him to stop by the coffee table. “Get up– you look pathetic– you sound pathetic!”

He does.

He listens.

*

A year is a long time.

Her hair’s longer.

Her nails are shorter.

It doesn’t hurt as bad when she sees his favourite colours on the streets, or when his favourite song comes on shuffle. She sleeps better now, doesn’t cry that often– only once a day on most days.

She still reaches for his side of the wardrobe when it’s chilly at night– still makes his favourite food when she knows he’s away and he might be missing home. When February comes, she goes out and buys his favourite flowers. Such beautiful flowers, the lady at the till says. I know, she says, they’re my favourites.

She breathes easily now, she thinks.

Until now.

She’s three glasses in when she walks back into the kitchen, and spots the pink rug.

She leaves the wine glass on the kitchen island, and gets on her knees. She acts like she’s found her missing earring. Then, her hand finds her phone in her pocket.

She does scroll for a bit before she finds his name.

He picks up on the fourth ring.

He sounds breathless, so does she.

“Can you come over,” she asks. “I need you.”

She doesn’t get a response for a while. She grows anxious.

“Please? Are you in LA?” She goes on. >Pathetic.

He answers at last. “I– am. Yes.”

“Come– come over.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Harry,” she hears herself say, sounding equally breathless. It sounds like a prayer. It’s the first time in a while she’s said it out loud.

“Yes?” She hears his keys being picked up.

“Come home.”

[testingthewatersss]

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 4 2960 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

It turns out, Bucky has cooked.

When Y/N turns up outside the safe house, hiding from the rain under the door frame, it’s already getting dark.

She knocks three times, and hears the chain being slid across a second before the door opens just wide enough, for her to see his face, smiling shyly in the crack.

“Hey, doll” he murmurs, ushering her inside;

She wastes no time in throwing her soaked leather jacket to the floor, pulling her hair down from the pony tail it’s been in for most of the afternoon.

When she looks up again, she sees him stood, watching her nervously from his position.

“Sweetheart” she coos, reaching over to hold his hands, “What’s that face for?”

The pout he’s wearing is blatant. He tries to mask it by faking a tight lipped smile.

Metal fingers curl around her own, he shifts a little, trying to coax her into a hug.

“Missed you today” is what he manages to whisper into her hair, when she finally takes the hint, and shuffles into his chest, “I…I made dinner, I-I’m not sure if it’s edible yet, but uh- I tried.”

Y/N can feel his heart hammering, his pulse is racing. She presses her lips against his throat, kissing it gently.

He gulps, eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine” she tells him quietly, “and if it isn’t- we’ll order in”

He chuckles silently, nuzzling into her the best he can.

She can smell adrenaline on his skin, she can sense the anxiousness in his posture.

It’s heart wrenching.

“What’s the matter?” she murmurs, pulling back to consider him properly, “Huh, Buck? What’s gotten you so upset today?”

Her palms are hot on his cheeks now, even though he doesn’t remember letting them go.

“…I…” he begins, “I… just, I’ve missed you…”

That’s the same answer as the one he’d given her before, but it sounds different some how. It sounds sadder, and all she can think to do is lean up to kiss him.

He whimpers against her lips, holding her against him for as long as he can, earnestly relishing in the affection.

“‘m here now” she says, “‘m not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

Bucky feels himself nodding, brain still half in a daze from the contact.

The meal he’s made is edible.

It’s pasta, with a sauce he’d found the recipe for in the back of one of Y/N’s magazines.

They hadn’t had any double cream, so he’d used half and half, and he’d never heard of the cheese they’d suggested, so he’d left that out all together.

“It’s good” Y/N beams, “It’s really good, Buck”

He blushes down at her- she’s half in his lap, his arm is draped around her waist as he picks at his own plate with absolute disinterest.

It’s her he’s focused on, the weight of her is grounding, she’s warm and real and lovely.

He’d never eat again, if it meant she’d stay by his side.

She doesn’t want that, though, he knows she worries about him, so he feeds himself mechanically, whilst letting his gaze linger on her face.

The radio is playing a soft song he doesn’t recognise, and the hazy light that had been coming through the cracks in the blinds is gone completely, meaning its only the one, orange desk lamp illuminating the space.

Once the plates are washed and dried, and she’s back, curled up against his chest, she decides to broach the subject she’s been waiting to bring up;

“I spoke to Steve today”

He tenses a little, but his fingers continue trailing up, and down her arm.

“I should hope so, doll” he jokes, “since you’re livin’ with the guy”

“You know what I mean” she jests, shifting a little so they’re face to face, “I told you earlier, he read the file, and the letter.”

He sighs, letting his eyes close for a second as his brow falls against hers.

“He’s not upset with you” she tells him, “He knows it wasn’t your fault”

Bucky feels himself grimace. He wants to argue but knows rehashing everything would be pointless.

“and” Y/N continues, “I spoke to Tony- about you coming back with me.”

She watches him freeze. The shift in him is instant, even in the poor lighting.

He stammers out an “I can’t” before stealing his jaw, nostrils flaring as he sucks in deep breathes through his nose, to try and stop himself from hyperventilating.

“Bucky-”

“I-I-I, oh, oh god-”

“Stop” she insists, reaching up to stroke his cheeks, “please don’t panic”

He’s way past panicking.

He can barely think, anymore.

His lip quivers, he grits his teeth, and screws his eyes shut for a second, before he blinks them open, wide and petrified as he looks at her.

Her chest aches.

“….I can’t keep leavin’ you here, sweetheart…”

Her voice is almost a purr, her fingers are still tracing his face

“….and it’s safer, it’s so much safer at the tower…”

Bucky is still watching her like a wounded stray. He’s totally torn between wanting to cower in a corner, and wanting to hold her tighter, and beg her never to leave him alone again.

“…I promise, baby, it’ll be okay, everything’s alright-”

“-Y-you’re brother—and- and, Steve and, the- the others I- I don't think-”

“My brother” she soothes, her thumb brushing over his chin, “has a hot temper, but he gets it now, Buck and Steve, loves you, he just wants you safe-”

His head shakes a fraction, as if too fight off the temptation her words are breading in his core.

There isn’t anything he wants more than to believe that he could stand a chance at being safe, and happy with her, without having to dread the moment she has to go, and leave him alone in world he barely understands.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me this is working for you.”

Her voice snaps him back to reality, the room that’s so familiar seems to melt away, and suddenly, all Bucky can see is Y/N, the woman he loves so desperately.

He wants to assure her that he’s okay. That he’s coping on his own, with her visiting whenever they have time.

He thinks, she’d be proud of him, if that was true, and that’s all he wants, but it’s not, it’s not true at all, so the words won’t come. He just blinks at her, and feels tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart-” Y/N soothes, seeing his devastation increasing so rapidly, “-You’re alright-”

“I’m sorry” he whispers, voice cracking, “I-I’m s-sorry”

Her head shakes, she guides him in for a hug, letting her hands slip around to his back a split second before it starts to heave.

It’s almost instant, Bucky suddenly feels like a such disappointment- Being unable to convince her of his well-being has made him so hyper aware of his real, glaring fear that she’s going to see him the way he sees himself, as something that’s broken, that’s been used and discarded.

He really is sorry. He feels like such a burden that he can take it, he tries to apologise again, but he knows he’s not actually speaking out-loud.

That only intensifies his need to plead for forgiveness, his mouth is bone dry- the plates in his arms fold down with metallic grating, moan.

“You haven’t done anythin’ wrong” Y/N tells him, knowing he needs to hear it, “You don’t have to be sorry, baby, I promise, it’s okay-”

He starts to sob, burying his nose in her neck, clinging to her shirt like a child.

She’s telling him it’s okay. The idea of her abandoning him is intolerable. She’s the only thing making it anywhere close to okay.

“I know your scared-”

“I-I don’t-I-I can’t be on m-my own a-anymore-I- I- I can’t- it-it’s-too, too much-don’t- god, please-doll, p-please don’t leave me-”

The confession and request come quickly, before he can swallow them down-

It sickens him to hear it, to hear himself gushing like that, along side fractured whimpers.

“I know it’s too much” Y/N agrees, still stroking across the back of his ribs, “I know it is, I’m not goin’ anywhere, I promise, take some deep breathes for me, okay? I’m not leaving you here, again.”

He clutches her tighter. Nodding to try and convince himself that she means what she’s saying.

She won’t leave me, She won’t leave me, She won’t leave me, She won’t leave me.

Those words loop around his head like a prayer, they fight against the bitter sting of fear that’s made it’s home in his chest.

His lungs hurt, he’s gasping and choking on air, but she’s asked him to try and breathe deeply, and so he does, he does his best not to splutter too much on the exhale.

“I love you” he cries, needing her to know, “I -l-love you, I- I’m sorry-I- I’m sorry I’m like this- I-I’m tryin’- I’m tryin’ to b-breathe-”

Her head shakes, she hushes him and tells him that she loves him too, that she knows how hard it is for him, right now.

“I-I’ll try- w- with you” he stammers, “I-I’ll do-what-whatever you want”

Her lips meet his tearstained cheek. She shakes her head again.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re feelin’ better” she murmurs, “We have options, it’s not just my choice”

Bucky sniffs bravely, pulling back from the safe space he’s found in the crook of Y/N’s neck.

His eyes are blood-shot, lashes wet, a tear rolls off his nose, even more stream down his cheeks in uneven rivets.

“Hey, handsome” she coos, running her hands across from the nape of his neck, so that she can start to clean his face with her palms, “shall we get you some water?”

The shake of his head is slow, he sniffles again, gulping.

“I…I- love you”

Even with the waiver in his voice, Y/N can’t help but smile as leans in, kissing his brow.

It’s warm, he leans into the contact.

“I love you too” she promises, using her sleeve to swipe under his eyes, “That’s why, I think we should talk about this another time.”

He shakes his head, and she can’t help but sigh.

Despite his emotional condition she knows he’s too stubborn to leave this undecided, she knows he won’t settle until they’ve gotten a plan in place.

She can’t blame him really, anxiety is something he has enough of already, without any unanswered questions nagging at his mind.

“‘m not gonna’- gonna- feel any better-‘bout it tomorrow- it-it’s always- it’s always gonna make-make me-“

“Alright” Y/N concedes, “Alright, let’s talk options.”

He nods, taking deliberately controlled breathes.

“I’m not leaving here on your own anymore-” she tells him, “- so, that’s off the table”

A tear falls from his lashes as he blinks. The urge to apologise again is almost intolerable, he feels totally responsible for their having to be options at all.

“I can move back in here” Y/N adds next, “or, we could find our own place, somewhere new-”

Instantly, he shakes his head again;

“I- I can’t take- take you away from your brother like-like that- I- can’t be the reason he loses y-you too-”

“I’m a grown woman” she replies calmly, “and he’s not losing me, just because I stop living in the same house, just like you don’t lose me, when I’m not spending the night.”

She leans in, her palms drift down to his jaw and she rubs her nose against his, knowing he needs the affection to stay grounded.

He does need it. He feels his fingers furling against her hips, even though he doesn’t remember placing them there.

“I-I don’t-I don’t want you to m-move for me” he whispers, “I k-know you work from the labs there- I-I know- how important it- it is for you to be there”

“You-” she says,”-are important to me.”

He feels his cheeks prickling, he’s sure that if he wasn’t already flushed, he’d be blushing.

“I’m just scared- Y/N/N-“ he hears himself say, “-I know it-it makes sense, me- me comin’ back with you, but- there- there are so many people, there-and I- I- did- I did so many things the-they all-”

“Every single person in that building knows you didn’t mean to do anything.”

Bucky's gaze drops again, he looks small, she thinks, he looks lost and vulnerable.

She swipes her thumbs up over his cheek bones, trying to coax it back to her;

“I didn’t mean too” he agrees quietly, before blinking back at her, “but I did, I did do it, Y/N- I- I killed all those people, y-youre parents and-I-I- shot Natasha, and I- I made Steve-“

“Stop”

He does stop. His words die in his throat.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart” she soothes, feeling his neck start to droop, “I know it hurts, I know it feels like it was, but I promise you- it wasn’t.”

She takes his silence as a victory.

“Is Tony, who you’re most worried about?”

Surprisingly, she believes him, when he whispers out a “No”

“‘m not worried ‘bout him” he continues, “he, he can hate me all h-he want’s I-I don’t- don’t blame him, a-and I- I-I think if he w-wanted me dead- he’d have killed me already-”

“he doesn’t want you dead”

“He should.”

“Well” she sighs, “he doesn’t, and it wouldn’t matter, even if he did, because contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t get everything he wants.”

Bucky forces a tight lipped smile, and feels his head throbbing.

“Baby, what is it that’s gotten you so worked up about this? Yesterday, you said you just wanted Steve to be sure about you comin’ in”

“I know” he agrees, guilty again, “I just-I- I didn’t know h-how-I-I’d feel w-when I- when I knew he’d read th-that file”

“I did tell ya’ that awful was probably the most likely”

That makes him scoff, sad but agreeing.

She had warned him, she’d sat with him and explained how terrible it was going to be for him to know that his oldest friend knew the details in those papers, even if they were far from comprehensive.

“and the letter could’ve been less emotive”

He actually manages to roll his eyes at that, which makes a small smile creep across her lips.

“Y-you said he was okay?”

“He’s fine” she affirms, “He’s worried about you, Buck- that’s all- he just wants to know you’re alright”

“He wants to see me” he counters, “that’s why he’s been’ makin’ Romanoff help him track me for the past 4 months”

“Well, I think he’d like to see you, yes” she agrees, “but he’s promised to be patient, I could smuggle you into the room and I’d trust him to stay away-”

“That’d be cruel- kids got no self control, he’d go mad tryin’ to keep that promise”

There’s a jovial lilt to his voice that she loves, she pecks a kiss to his cheek, and is pleased to feel that they’re not nearly as hot as they were a few moments before.

“Then you let him see you” she suggests, “he knows you need space, I really think once he sees you, Buck- When he realises you’re alright, he’ll be better about not bein’ so mother-hen-”

“You don’t know him like I do” he says, “He’s real loyal-he’s- he feels so responsible-“

“You’re both as bad as each other”

He looks at her, considerate, but quiet.

“I don’t know where you both got this obsession with holdin’ yourselves’ accountable for things’ you had no control over- Nothing that happened after you fell was your fault, and I don’t even know where to start on his feelin’ guilty’ bout it all”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair, when she’s finished speaking. She returns it to it’s previous spot agains’t cheek. He turns to kiss at her fingers.

She curls her thumb over his lips, letting him nuzzle into her wrist.

“I’ll- I’ll try- I’ll try it out”

Her head tilts when she catches his words.

“I- I’ll try, at the tower, doll but- but if it’s too much-”

“then we’ll figure somethin’ else out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

The promise she makes comes easy. It’s clear he’s been drained by the entire interaction. The hollows under his eyes are dark, and deeper than they’ve been in a while.

“Baby, did you sleep at all last night?”

He squints at her, before shaking his head, nose tickling her palm.

Her brow furrows, concern shining behind the brown eyes she shares with her brother.

She knows he didn’t get more than a few hours the day before; when she thinks back, that must mean it’s been at least a week since he’s gotten a decent nights rest.

“Well that makes our next decision a hell of a lot easier than the last one”

He looks at her, expression muddled.

“We’re gettin’ an early night”

Y/N isn’t sure wether it’s relief or reluctance that creeps onto his face, but with his hair hanging half in front of his eyes, it’s hard for her to tell.

So, she cards it back, rubbing his temple with her thumb.

“You’re exhausted” she notes quietly, “we’ve eaten, we’ve cleaned up, there isn’t anythin’ else we need to talk about, other than how much better you’re gettin’ a cookin’”

He scoffs again, and reaches up to tangle their fingers together.

The pair manage to sleep relatively well. Bucky drifts off quickly, and even though his unconsciousness is very, very fragile, when he does startle himself awake during the night, he finds Y/N’s arms still looped around him, and he’s able to bury his face against her chest, and lull himself back to sleep.

1 | 2 | 3 | x | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

[madebyrolo]

Chapter 9

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

ꔮ ⋆ ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅

It’s been a couple days since the beach hangout, and y/n has been going down to the reservation a lot more ever since. Ever since her and a Paul finally met she’s been itching to see him again. She seen him once on the Rez, he was hanging around then the second time he was just “passing through” just sent a wave then vanished. She’s back at the Rez and she hasn’t seen him since.

“Hey Jake” she said walking into the workshop

“Hey y/n/n” he said working on his car

“Whatcha doin” she asked

“I’m just fixing the transmission, it started slipping and shaking so I’m just checking the fluids.” He said

“Ah yes” she replied

“You dont understand a thing do you” he said with a chuckle

“Ah yes” she repeated answering his question

“So when when are the other boys coming by?” By boys she meant Paul.

“Quil and Embry are grounded so it’s just us” Jacob said

“Cool cool, just like old times” y/n said with a smile “what about Jared and Paul…” smooth y/n.

A part of Jacob tensed up hearing y/n ask “so um they aren’t gonna be here for awhile” he said while grabbing a tool

“Why?” She asked concerned

“Well they’re kinda sticking to them self’s right now” he said turning the tool

“What do you mean?” he sighs and sets down the tools trying to figure out how to tell her without letting her know.

“In a way they hit puberty. Like not like in a boy way but in a tribal way. They mature and somewhat grew more into their own self. Sam was the first so he kinda took them and made his own little pack” Jacob said.

“So what they’re like the cool kids now? Sam’s the alpha” Y/n joked

“Yes actually, he is” Jacob said

“Oh, so what they aren’t allowed to come here anymore? I haven’t seen Paul in a while”

“They think they’re better than us. The ones who haven’t shifted” the word slipped out of his mouth.

“What do you mean shifted ?”

“Look, I can’t say much but they don’t wanna hang out with the “normies” basically.Now that they have Jared, they formed at little pack, a little gang. now let it go” He scolded her

“Okay! geez chill out” she said rolling her eyes

“Alright sorry that was rude. What’s up with your interest in Paul anyways?” He asked

“I don’t know” she said kicking her legs off the stool

“He’s seems nice. When I met him on the beach-”

“Y/n he’s not nice. Well not anymore anyways”

“What ?” She asked

“Like I said, he thinks he’s better than anyone els, the whole group. Sam has them skipping school and just going off in the woods doing patr- whatever they’re doing.”

“I just thought-”

“Y/n please don’t hang out with them. They’re not the good guys anymore. Emily has that scar for a reason.”

“Oh my god did they hurt her ?” She asked worried

“No she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Not saying what Sam did was wrong but you just have to becarful around them now’s. It’s worst this time around.” Jacob said

“Wait what do you mean? With shifted, “worst this time around”, packs?-”

“Enough just drop it! I can’t say much they wouldn’t allow it.” He snarked

“Well for not being allowed to say much you sure do keep on talking.” She said defending herself

“Let’s just do something els alright?” Jacob offered to try to dissolved the tension

“Fine. Let’s make something to eat im starving”

y/n hops off the stool following Jacob towards his homes. They walk in the little red house and taking their muddy shoes off and heading into the kitchen.

“Alright what you got ?”y/n asked

“We can make subs, corn, pasta, fish,”

“Let’s do corn.”

“Grilled or boiled?”

“Grilled. That’s the only way Jacob.”

As they start prepping the corn to put it on the stove. As they cook it they start talking catching up, Jacob trying to make her forget about what they talked about earlier. As the corn finished cook y/n grabs it off the stove and puts them on separate plates going to the fridge and grabbing 2 things.

“Mayo and cheese ? What are you doing with that” Jacob asked

“I’m making an elote, my dad used to make them when we were younger. Here try it” she said taking her prepared elote and giving it to him to try. He takes a bite and his eye light up

“Mhhm this is soo good oh my god!” He said while taking it away from her.

“Yeah sure take mine.” She said sarcastically

She finishes her and they sit and talk while having dinner.

Y/n slowly starting to forget about Paul but she’ll never forget what Jacob said.

“Shifting, pack, alpha” those words slowing gracing her mind. If she didn’t know any better she would say they sounded like wolfs. But that’s just silly.

˚ ࣪𖤐⋆⭒˚‧₊ ִֶָ☾.

[mega-punani]

For your Pirate AU, what are all the boys favourite food/dishes/treats/fruits/veggies and drinks(alcoholic and non alcoholic)? I don’t think anyone has asked this, but I was curious, for all of them? Sans, Papyrus, Blue, Stretch, Red, Edge, Razz, Cash, Bear and Cinnamon?

Also are people allowed to use your vers of AUs or even your AUs in stories with different twists?? Like say pirate AU(since I already mentioned them), and like doing the dragged from they’re universe of one piece to a total new that’s kinda modern time? Dealing with an MC that’s trying to keep them outta trouble as well as hide they’re secret but also it’s where a true pacifist route happened??

And of course give you credit but can they use your make, vers, variant, au, whatever you wish to call it in this case, in stories and other works?

Yaw! People can use the pirate stuff for whatever honestly. The au is kinda my idea but not really cause I'm just smashin 2 things together lol. I don't mind. Of course, designs are made by @the-skeleton-in-ur-closet so if you end up drawing or using the designs you GOTS to credit them (or I will hunt you down /hj) Also, the dragging the pirate au to a modern Y/N would be so FUCKING FUN. I loooove those tropes saur much.

FAVORITE FOOD AND DRINKS:

Sans: Anything greasy and bready. Bro loves his carbs. Is a big fan of Ketchup too! Favorite drink is a hot mug of cocoa.

Papyrus: SPAGHETTI! And a wide range of pastas. He is also a huge fan of anything tomato. Looooves drinking iced teas, refreshing and sweet!

Blue: Huge fan of sugary and carbonated sodas but hates sparkling water. Blue is also a great enjoyer of greasy foods loaded with meat (like tacos). Likes fruits that are sweet and tropical.

Stretch: A refreshing jug of beer and potato based foods. He also has a deep love for spicy foods, even if he can't handle them well.

Red: MEAT. Bro loves him some bbq, steaks, and grilled goodies. He doesn't really have a favorite drink, but he'll enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning. 2 cubes of sugar and a dash of cream.

Edge: The stronger Edge's morning coffee, the less he will yell at the crew. This man needs his caffeine NEOW. Pasta is his guilty pleasure but he tries to suppress the fact that he wants to eat it constantly. He must set a good example by eating healthy...

Razz: Tea, wine, and cheese. Razz's holy trinity. Will nibble on a block of cheese in the middle of the night (scaring tf out of Bear)

Cash: A lover of alcohol. Every to all, especially the strong ones. He's a little embarrassed about this, but chocolate. Just cause he didn't get much as a kid,,,

Bear: Spicy foods and dairy. Spicy foods cause he can feel a strong kick from the food and it makes him all warm on the inside. He likes his dairy because it is still pretty new to him. (unfortunately, he is mildly lactose intolerant-)

Cinnamon: Desserts of all varieties. He loves him some sweet pastries, and he loves him some fudgy brownies. Cupcakes, muffins, cakes, donuts. Cinnamon got quite the sweet tooth. All of it can be paired with a hot cup of coffee that is 4 times more cream than coffee.

[yarameijer]

What do you think is Tenma's and others' favourite food and drink?

Ooh, favorite foods! Okay so please bear with me, I’m not familiar with Japanese cuisine but I’ll give it a shot!

First, the first-years! Tsurugi has a sweet tooth, but he wouldn’t admit it even on pain of death and only Yuuichi knows because Tsurugi believes it’d take away from his reputation otherwise. He loves rice cakes, especially with fillings. He’s also a fan of dried beans covered with sugar.

Hikaru is also a major fan of sweets and is willing to try whatever's offered to him, but his absolute favorite is coffee jelly. He can sometimes be bribed with sweets if necessary. To finish up the sweet tooth trio, Aoi loves any type of cake, although she prefers milder tastes instead of super sweet. She and Hikaru go out to cafes to try out their menu and manage to drag Tsurugi along eventually, although he’ll pretend to come along just to humor them. These three are also the biggest fans of going to Tenma’s place, because Aki usually has some homemade baking ready.

Shinsuke really likes onigiri, it’s simple yet tasty, and easy to share with friends. No need for any fancy dishes for him! He’s also a fan of sweets, although not as bad as the three mentioned above, and he likes fruit-flavored soy milk.

Kariya likes takoyaki the most! It’s pretty easy to get, so he likes treating himself to it if he’s done well on a test or something, or if he’s just in the mood. Since he lives in an orphanage, food options are dependent on whatever gets prepared there, so while the food is good he doesn’t really have any input in dinner. Makes it extra nice to get takoyaki as a snack for himself!

If asked, Tenma’s favorite food is whatever Aki prepares because her cooking is amazing, but his favorite dish would be gōyā chanpurū, Okinawan stir fry. He’s loved it since he was young, and now that he lives in Tokyo, it reminds him of home. He also enjoys sweet snacks, particularly mitarashi dango and sata andagi (which is also from Okinawa, and he loves it for similar reasons).

Onto the second-years! Hamano loves sashimi (raw fish), but he doesn’t really have a preference for a specific type. He also likes taiyaki, fish-shaped cakes, not only because of the taste but also because they’re, well, in the shape of a fish. He and Hayami often get some if they're hanging out after school, most often with red bean paste or custard filling. Although Hayami likes taiyaki too, he prefers gyõza (Japanese dumplings). He’s also a pretty big tea fan, especially green tea, which he has in common with Shindou.

Speaking of - everyone knows Shindou is a rich kid. Influential, loaded family that goes to operas and pays for private tutoring outside of school and eats at a five star restaurant every other month. And yet, ironically, his absolute favorite food turns out to be homemade ramen from Rairaiken (after his friends have introduced him to it, of course). He likes to experiment with toppings and is delighted whenever he finds a new combination he enjoys.

Kirino’s favorite food is sushi, also because there’s such a wide variety of it, and he can pick whatever he feels like at that moment. Luckily for him, he’s best friends with rich kid Shindou, and whenever they hang out at his manor, the staff knows to prepare sushi. Kirino takes full advantage of this and claims it’s payment for dealing with Shindou’s soccer strategy ramblings. Just like Shindou and Hayami, he likes green tea, but he prefers royal milk tea.

Nishiki picked up a love for Italian cuisine during his time abroad. He loves ravioli (stuffed pasta) and he’s got a preference for ciabatta bread. He’s lucky enough not to be lactose intolerant like many other Japanese people, and he absolutely LOVED spending time in a country with countless cheese options, in which Japan is, unsurprisingly, lacking. He’s cooked for his friends a few times and it was a pretty big success.

Midori and Kurama, surprisingly enough, share their favorite food: kushiyaki, skewered and grilled foods. Midori loves grilled pork skewers, whereas Kurama’s favorite are grilled vegetable skewers. Midori likes other types as well, but Kurama’s a picky eater so he'll stick to his vegetables, thank you very much.

Akane can usually be found with various types of bread in her bento, the specific kind switching every day. It’s her favorite snack and she usually brings some to eat during afternoon practice. Her favorites are melonpan and anpan (filled with red bean paste). She brings enough for the entire team as a treat if they’ve won a particularly hard match. She also really loves bubble tea (her favorite is honeydew milk tea), and often drags Aoi and Midori along. Aoi’s favorite is matcha milk tea, and Midori’s is black milk tea.

Aoyama, as mentioned in the AR one-shot collection, is obsessed with noodles. His favorite is kitsune udon, but he likes switching it up so he also orders other dishes quite regularly. Ichino also appreciates udon and other noodle foods (he doesn’t really have a choice, being best friends with Aoyama), and he’s also a big fan of shaved ice.

Finally the third-years! They’ve actually got a pretty big thing in common there: they all prefer the company over the food, really. Sangoku, for example, doesn’t really have a favorite food. He loves cooking, and cooking for others, and he’s a fan of trying out new recipes, although he favors traditional Japanese meals. He originally taught himself how to cook because his mother is usually busy with work, but discovered a love for it and he likes seeing his friends enjoy his food. He does really enjoy a good cup of green tea, though, like Shindou and Hayami.

Next, Kurumada! If asked, he claims he likes going to yakiniku (grilled meat) restaurants with his friends most. He thinks it’s tasty, and he likes having multiple options for food and being able to just get whatever he’s in the mood for at the time. It’s only made better by the company, although inviting his team along has been known to end in chaos.

Amagi’s favorite food is katsudon, which he has in common with Mahoro. When they were kids, he, Mahoro and their childhood friend Kousaka Yukie would eat it as often as their parents would allow - that’s where his love for shared meals began, because it’s much more fun to eat together than alone.

…I may have gone a bit overboard with this. Whoops?

Hope you enjoyed!

[talking-about-bug-snacks]

SPAGHIDER

Every Bugsnak is wonderful, every Bugsnak is a delightful design. But Spaghider is absolutely impeccable. Even if it may not quite be my favorite design, I think Spaghider has the BEST design of any snak. It is just bellissimo!

While other spider snax are very simplified with silly anatomy, Spaghider is one of the most anatomically accurate snax there is, and every aspect of the food is used flawlessly! Cephalothorax consisting of spaghetti twirled around a fork, eight noodle legs, a meatball abdomen, and the tines of the fork representing both pedipalps and chelicerae. It is so so so good!!! And focusing more on the food side, I love the detail on both the noodles and the meatball, especially the little flecks left by the sauce. Also, pasta was SORELY missing from the base snak roster, so a spaghetti snak was basically a necessary choice! A spaghetti and meatballs snail was considered for the base game, and dare I say, I think I’m glad we got Spaghider instead, since it is so perfect, and we already have a perfect snail in Cinnasnail, anyway. Somebody call a Chef, because I need one to do a Kiss to commemorate this right about now!

Spaghider spends its time in trees, but if something Cheesy is nearby, it will snag it in a thread... of spaghetti! It makes sense, it’s a long thread that can be analogous to a thread of silk, but it is just funny that it is using what its legs are made of as silk, I think. The beautiful fool will even snatch up Shrink Spice and Snak Traps as long as they’re covered in cheese, and this is how to capture it!

A very funny glitch exists, or at least existed because they might have fixed it, where Spaghider’s stretchy noodle could fall off, and just be there on the ground as an extremely compressed spaghetti cylinder. I love this!!! Would you eat something like this? I would. I would love to! Just hold it and bite into it like an apple! You could dip it in sauce as you do! Please reply or tag Hell Yeah! if you would!

[asteria-argo]

Whats happening fam?

So so so much. Good things, bad things. A lot.

I got a job that, for the first time since I entered the workforce several years ago, actually adheres to my disability accommodations without cutting my hours as punishment for needing them. The course I’ve spent the last two years doing has fucked me over almost irreparably because of poor organisation on their part so I might not get the qualifications I’ve just sunk the last two and a half years of my life into getting.

I made some friends a couple years ago, my first real friends that weren’t just high school lunch hour allies, and started playing dnd with them which has branched into me doing all sorts of things I never thought I’d do, like having sleepovers and going clubbing after work and having people over for Christmas and my birthday, they’re all great people and they love me so much. I got engaged. I realised I was aromantic and got unengaged.

I started posting my fanfictions and made so many friends in the process of that that I frankly don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve gotten back into painting. Writing my fanfictions started feeling like an obligation. I feel like I’m letting people down by enjoying my hobbies the way that I do.

My great aunt who helped raised me has recently moved in with us, she watches my shows with me with such earnest enthusiasm the first time she asked me a question about it I almost cried. She had a heart attack a week ago and is now waiting on surgery. She has a good prognosis.

I’ve decided I’m going to university after putting it off for three years. I’m going to get a creative writing degree, even though my dad keeps telling me it’s stupid.

I’m learning how to cook. It’s hard because I have an eating disorder, but I’m doing really well. I made dinner tonight, creamy chicken pasta with grated cheese and zucchini.

I had a nine hour shift at my second job today watching feral toddlers. They spat on me. I have work at my other job tomorrow, and I’m looking forward too it. I have to do school work before I start my shift because I have an assignment deadline at the end of this week.

So much is happening all the time every day and I can never stop it. Last time I checked I was 17 and now I’m a few months away from 21. I think the next time I look up I’ll be 30. Smash mouth was right.

[gothe]

since u said ur going back on a diet when ur home, how do u tend to diet? like do u stick to a calorie limit per day, or limit urself to certain foods, etc... i need to get on one too and i trust ur nutritional knowledge best lol

this is going to be a long answer because i don’t want to deprive you of any knowledge

yes i stick to a (minimum) calorie limit which was upped to 2100 right before i traveled, might increase it to 2350 when i’m home because the more calories i eat the better for muscle gain. there’s many things i don’t eat: processed carbs like white bread (get whole grain/whole wheat bread instead), includes processed pasta (you can just get whole grain, tastes the same), processed meats like turkey lunchmeat, bacon, etc (bacon isn’t sold in my muslim country anyways.) no sugar in my day because that is inflammation central & is horrendous for my blood sugar, natural sugar from fruits and such is fine though of course. for a bit i had one sugary snack a day because i was sick of restricting and it gave me pimples lmao like i’m done with having sugar on a consistent basis forever. now i have one cheat day a week where i eat all the sugar i want and that works just fine for me, sometimes i cheat twice because i happen to have plans. i also don’t eat dairy not because it’s bad for your health but because it gives me bad breakouts, i’ve been having to eat some cheese though because of my gut issues having a problem with my usual breakfast, now my breakfast has a ton of cheese. there might be more i don’t eat but i don’t remember for now.

now i’m gonna give you some advice, i don’t want to overwhelm you but i’m gonna give you a sense of what your diet should look like. this is also how my own diet looks. you should have a balanced diet with fruit, vegetables, proteins, whole grains, healthy fats & healthy carbohydrates in your day. you can incorporate fruits into your breakfast or into snacks throughout your day or even add fruit to a low carb meal on the side, but that’s just my dedicated ass. you could have a versatile salad in the day to get your vegetables in, have green smoothies, or simply eat your vegetables straight up in one sitting, like i usually do. get protein from chicken, beef, pork, tofu, dairy, plant proteins even. whole grains are easy to figure out, healthy fats can be from avocadoes, eggs, nuts, nut butters, olive oil, fish (fish gives you omega 3 fatty acids which are amazing for you). healthy carbs have already been mentioned, they’re fruits & whole grains, you can even have white rice & such. white rice isn’t actively nutritionally beneficial but it’s not bad for you either.

you said you need to go on a diet, i wonder what you mean? like do you need to lose weight or gain muscle/weight? cause i can’t tell you the amount of calories you should be getting in, i don’t know that. either way i gave you an idea of what a good diet should look like, i hope this helped. 💗

[invisibleraven]

Haunted Holidays

December 19: Apron <-AO3 link!

If there is one thing Victoria Alvarez cares about, it’s her family. It’s not surprising given her Puerto Rican roots and her mothering nature. When she loves, she loves fiercely, and forever. Which sometimes makes her job as a social worker harder, but it’s also why she’s the best there is at it.

So when her sister passes-God rest her soul-Victoria steps up to look after Ray and the kids. She’s not there everyday, but often enough to make sure they don’t starve, the kids are bathed and going to school and that Ray isn’t staying in bed all day. She even hooks them up with a family therapist she works with, and hopes that Dr. Turner can help mire them through their grief.

The other thing she does is cook. For one, she enjoys it, it relaxes her, helps centre her after a long day. For another, she’s good at it, everyone praising her dishes, asking her for her recipes-which unless they share blood she’s not sharing, and maybe not even then.

But growing up in a large family meant she always cooked too much. She’s a happily single gal so she does keep some for leftovers, and gives some to her Pilates friends. But most of it goes to the Molina household.

Because without it…

Look, Ray is a great guy, Victoria couldn’t have asked for better for Rose. He’s a kind heart, not bad looking, a great dad, and an amazing husband. But he’s also an awful cook. He can manage breakfast fine, and his spaghetti isn’t bad. Yet his cooking expertise stops there, and well, Victoria’s kin are not living off spaghetti alone.

Which is why she hatches a plan.

“Knock knock!” she calls out as she enters. She doesn’t bother to actually knock, she never has.

“Hey Tori,” Ray greets from his desk. “I was just finishing up a bit of work before Carlos got home, what’s up?”

“Suit up,” she says, tossing an apron at him. “You’re getting a cooking lesson.”

“What?” he says, but smiles a little at the World’s Best Dad apron that she got him. “I’m an okay cook.”

She whirls around at that, hands on her hips. “Raymond, I love you, but you know how to scramble eggs and boil water for pasta, that’s not enough.”

“The kids haven’t complained yet,” Ray says, but he still ties the apron around his waist and follows her into the kitchen.

“The kids don’t want to add more onto your plate,” Victoria says diplomatically. “Plus they’re kids, they’ll live off frozen pizza and grilled cheese if you let them.”

“That’s…fair,” he concedes. Starts cleaning vegetables as she hands them to him from her bag. “So what are we cooking?”

“My arroz con pollo y pasteles,” she says. “Two easy staples that freeze well so you can just defrost and nuke them if needed.”

“Sounds good,” Ray says and gets started making the mise. He was always more comfortable as Rose’s sous chef than anything, but it means he’s decent with a knife and follows instructions well. It’s not that he dislikes cooking, he’s just never really bothered to learn how to do it. Plus with how forgetful he is, sometimes he’s more of a liability than not.

“You should teach Julie and Carlos how to make this stuff too,” he says as they cook. “Julie is at least old enough to start helping with meals.”

“Between school and her band, I doubt she has the time,” Victoria says. “But if she’s willing to learn, I’m willing to teach.”

“I think it would more so be a good bonding moment for you two,” Ray said. “You’re the closest thing she has to a mother figure now.”

“I don’t want to replace Rose,” Victoria said, adamant. “If Julie wants me to play some sort of maternal role in her life, I can, but that has to come from her.”

“Well then use it to connect with our heritage,” Ray amends. “She’s been really into learning about Puerto Rico since you mentioned bringing her there as a graduation present.”

“That I can do, although heaven knows mama will undo all my hard work to teach her the ‘right’ way,” she said wryly.

They both shared a chuckle over that. Maria Alvarez always knew best-at least according to her. She had high expectations and never failed to let you know when you fell short of them. She had never been a great fan of Ray, and still harped on Victoria for being single at almost fifty. Never mind that Rose had adored Ray, and Victoria had no interest in romance at all.

They kept working, mostly in companionable silence, but occasionally talking about work, or the kids, or the latest crime thriller they were both enjoying. The house slowly filled with the scent of the food cooking, and Ray beamed when Victoria clapped him on the back. “See, two more recipes to add to your roster!”

“I really did it huh?”

“What did you do?”

The two of them turned around to see Carlos standing in the doorway, tossing his book bag to the dining room chairs. “Your papi made supper for you all tonight,” Victoria told him.

“Huh, it doesn't smell like spaghetti,” Carlos said, snatching up an apple.

“That’s because your tia helped me cook her arroz con pollo y pasteles,” Ray said. “Give us a little variety.”

“I mean, I like your spaghetti,” Carlos said with a shrug. “But it’ll be nice not to have it every night.”

“Ha ha, go get ready for baseball, funny guy,” Ray said, shooing him up the stairs.

Victoria put the food away, it would be fine reheated anyways, and she knew that on baseball nights Ray usually got burgers for the kids, regardless if Carlos’ team won or lost.

“Thanks for helping me cook Tori,” Ray said as he stacked the dishes to wash later. “I’m sure our next lesson will be just as fun.”

“Anytime hermano,” Victoria said, pulling him in for a rare hug. “Anytime.”