#no one ate from the cherry jar

[atinydragon]

Rat Manor: New Friend

The rat’s first food run is cut short. So Sam decides to try it her way. She ends up in a messy situation.

[masterlist]

(contains some grossness)

Sam whooped as she jumped past the last two ledges and landed at the bottom. It was less graceful then normal since her fake leg wobbled a bit.

"Sam!" squeaked Willow above her "Be careful."

"Come on, I'm starving! We didn't get anything yesterday!" she laughed She should be full on apples right now but thanks to a certain someone she got a cup thrown at her and nearly fell to her death. Then attacked by a broom. And then spent a whole night hungry because Willow thought it'd be too risky to go right back to the kitchen.

There was a whoosh as that certain someone landed beside her.

Sam glared at the glittering fairy. They had insisted on coming along, to "ensure they got proper food". As if she'd just grab whatever scraps were in the bin. She wanted to tell them to buzz off and wait their turn.

Unfortunately Willow had agreed that it would be best for as many of them as possible to go on the 'food runs' as he called it. They needed to build up a supply of food. Which was a very sensible reason and Sam couldn't find a way to argue it. Still she wished Button had at least come along to balance it out. But the smallest rat had decided to stay back and gather fabrics to make beds for everyone. If Sam wasn't so horrendous with needles she'd have just stayed behind to help Button.

Glimmer glared right back at Sam.

"Okay you two," Willow hopped down to join them. "Please get all your bickering out now before we're in open space."

"I don't have anything to say to her." Glimmer crossed their arms.

"Me neither" Sam continued to glare at the fairy.

Willow groaned and walked ahead leaving the other to walk side by side while ignoring each other.

After a quiet but tense walk, the trio reached the huge oven that marked their entrance to the kitchen.

Willow peered out into the room.

Sam leaned over him to do the same, accidentally hitting him with her bag.

The kitchen looked the same as last time. Though now with a distinct lack of convenient fresh food sitting around. And the giant from yesterday was already here, fussing with something on a counter across the room.

"Drat." said Willow "We'll have to turn back and try again later."

"What, why?" said Sam. She did not want to have to climb back up hungry again!

"Because the orc is back?" said Glimmer "Can you not see her? She's taller than a deer."

Sam growled back at him.

"Stop it." Willow cut in between them "We'll just wait until she leaves."

"That'll take awhile. It looks like she's the cook." said Glimmer.

"Oh come on, we should be able to do something now." She looked back out into the room. The giant had disappeared. But before Sam could gloat about it, the giant walked back in carrying a tray of food.

She set it down at the counter and began doing some sort of chopping or peeling? It was an awkward angle.

Sam craned her neck to see where the giant had come from. Tucked away in the far corner on the same wall as the oven was a door Sam had missed the other day. It was wide open now. "Did you see that?" she said "They must keep most of their food there!"

"Sam we can't go out when there's a giant." said Willow.

She was about to argue when an idea hit her. "But look, it's right along this wall. The tunnel also goes that way. Maybe we can make another hole there?"

"I don't know" said Willow "She's clearly going in and out. Might still be risky-"

Sam walked off back into the wall. No reason why she couldn't just check! She turned left instead of right and raced through the dark tunnel. Navigating through plenty of stormy nights meant it was a breeze for her to dodged the bumps and pipes throughout.

After she got what she thought was the distance between the entry and the door she stopped and looked around. Well, more so felt the wall. There weren't any cracks she could feel. Certainly none that let any light in. Must have just not gone far enough.

Sam jogged further in and tried again. Still nothing. Maybe. The walls were bumpy and craggily.

Who knows how to tell what was just a crack and what was one that went all the way through the wall. Willow probably. This was how he lived, in the walls of giants. Leaving him behind hadn't been the best move...

Too late though. So Sam would just have to continue without.

Sam pressed forward through the dusty tunnels. It was becoming rather eerie. She was in silence for one thing. No other rat or giant were nearby. Just the faint creaks and groans of something deeper inside the dwelling. She hadn't even seen signs of a living bug. They should be swarming the near ancient thing but they weren't.

The darkness was also starting to play tricks on her. Sometimes she'd go to duck under a pipe and put her paw on it only for it to touch nothing. Or she'd swear she saw another tunnel leading off the one she was in but then be unable to find it if she went back.

Thankfully there was a pin prick of light ahead. Sam rushed forwards towards it. "Ha!" she thought "Knew there would be a way in. Just not used to judging distance inside is all." As she got closer she could feel a faint breeze coming from the light. Odd since any hole would lead inside-

Sam skidded to a stop, falling onto her butt, as she nearly fell down an entire foot drop.

The light was not in fact coming from a room in the dwelling but from the very sun.

Her legs were dangling outside of the walls as the hole was in the stony exterior.

It looked out to a work yard. The grass had long since been stomped away leaving dirt and pebbles. A shovel, couple pitchforks, and a random assortment of other tools were scattered about. The neighs of horses could be heard from somewhere nearby. A small staircase led to the wall almost right next to the hole Sam was in.

"Welp." said Sam to herself "This certainly isn't where they keep the food."

"It's not?"

Sam nearly fell to the ground again. She wiped around expecting to see that dime witted fairy smirking behind her. No one was there.

"Over here!"

Sam looked back out at the yard. She noticed a hulking metal monstrosity tucked in the corner where two of the dwelling walls met.

Perched on the edge was a fairy waving enthusiastically. She was very clearly not Glimmer as her hair was too long and her wings were shaped entirely differently. In fact she was probably a pixie rather than a fairy.

Somewhat hesitant Sam waved back.

Before either of them could do anything else a door banged open.

Sam's head rattled as the door creaked in protest of the abuse.

A giant stomped down the stairs unnoticing. He looked entirely different from any of the four giants Sam had seen so far. But at least wasn't as weird as the ghostly scaled one from yesterday. The giant was carrying a large bulky bag. He walked to the metal bin and chucked the bag inside.

Despite the clattering and clanging, the pixie kept her balance on the edge. She was even still smiling.

Without so much as a glance at the pixie, the giant walked back inside the dwelling. Closing the door much more gently this time.

"OOOOO!" squealed the pixie "Maybe this one has food! Or shiny things! Come on let's look I'll share!" she dove down into the bin.

Sam wasn't too sure anything edible was in that bin given what she could smell from here. She looked back into the dark tunnel. Groaning, she climbed down the stone walls. No way she was going back empty handed.

The stench only got worse as Sam approached the metal bin. And so did the unending buzz of the flies swarming it. Maybe it would be better to go back empty handed...

The pixie popped back out. "Is this food?" she held up an apple core. What little insides were left were very brown.

"Not anymore." said Sam as she tried to not look completely disgusted.

"Aww, darn." the pixie dropped the core back into the depths of the bin. She jumped up and out of the bin and fluttered down to where Sam stood giving the rat a clearer look at her. She was short. Not as small as Button but more so than Willow. She was grinning ear to ear showing the pointed teeth she had left. Her hair was long and matted. A ridiculous amount of scarves were wound around her neck and streaming down her body, her ribs poking out between them. A thin cloth that should have been replaced ages ago was wound around her waist. Her bare feet were caked in dirt.

Sam snapped her eyes back to the pixie's "Yeah I don't think you'll ever find food there."

"I guess so, it's been a week and I haven't seen anything" said the pixie. Her expression not changing "Me dad used to find food all the time in bins like these. Then one of 'em fell on him. Guess that's a sign. My name's Moss what's yours?"

"Uh, Sam?" she spluttered. Had she heard Moss right? The pixie had really sped past her father's death.

"Nice." Moss grinned more "I like it. Got any food?"

"Thanks, but no I don't have any."

"Aww no I guess we're both starving for the winter." Moss plopped down onto the ground. Her grin lessened but still present.

"What, no. I know where's there some." said Sam.

"Really?" Moss was back on her feet, standing on tippy toes to get way into Sam's personal space "But I thought yous was looking for food out here?"

Sam stepped back "Well kinda? I know where the food is I just couldn't figure out how to get to it."

Moss seemed to get the message and stood down "How'd you do that?"

"I thought I could get in through the walls, but instead I went out."

"You were inside the walls?" Moss gasped "In there, you can do that? How?" she pointed to the dwelling.

"The walls are hollow, mostly, so you can walk through them." Sam pointed to where she came out of "Look there's a hole there."

Moss squinted at the wall for a moment before her eyes widened. She squealed, run jumping into flight and dove right into the hole.

Sam blinked as she looked at the spot the other fae had just been in.

"Come on Sam! Let's get foood!" called Moss.

Still a bit dazed Sam complied. She couldn't help but stare at the grinning pixie as she did so. It probably wasn't a good idea to keep helping the first sap she bumped into...

But as she climbed up back into the crack between stones she caught sight of Moss's ribs and decided that okay, this one last time was fine.

Besides, it would be helpful to have the glow of a fairy's wings. While Moss's brown ones didn't give off as much as Glimmer's golden ones, it was a good price for not having to deal with the annoying fly.

Sam walked in front leading back into the tunnels. Every so often she'd have to turn and get Moss's attention whenever the pixie caught sight of a pipe. "Okay." said Sam "Keep an eye out for cracks and holes and that stuff. We need to find a way into where the giants keep their food."

Moss intensely eyed a bump in the wall next to her.

"No, like one you could walk through."

With her eyes locked onto Sam's, Moss slid behind the bump.

Sam walked around to face Moss again "As in through it into the actual dwelling."

"There's more?!" Moss looked genuinely awestruck.

"Oh there's way too much more. Let's go."

The two continued on, inspecting the wall as they went. Moss seemed to have gotten the memo and was keeping up with Sam while doing so. Hopefully.

"Oh look! I see something!" Moss slipped around Sam and dashed ahead.

Sam raced to keep up, just barely seeing the shockingly fast pixie zip around a corner. Finally she reached where Moss had went to...

Right by the oven.

"Look how big this is!" Moss walked right out into the open.

Sam followed, looking around to see that the kitchen giant had left.

"You don't look happy, is this not where the food is?" Moss was still smiling.

"Sort of?" Sam was still looking around "This is more where they prep the food. I was trying to find a way to where they store it-oh!" The door she had seen earlier was still wide open. Shelves and boxes could be seen lurking inside. "Looks like we can get in through something bigger than expected." Sam marched over to the door.

Moss followed after.

Both of them were soon in the room. It was much smaller than the kitchen but it was packed full of food. Jars, boxes and cans lined the shelves all filled to the brim with food.

Sam spotted some apples and imminently climbed up the shelf they were on. She rolled a juicy one away from the others and chowed down on it as she watched Moss zip around the room.

"OOOO look these things are full of green stuff! I didn't know you put stuffs in them." Moss gasped "What are those!" she dove down headfirst into a jar that had been left open. Popping back up with a cherry hanging from her jaws. She made short work of it and dipped back down for another.

Sam finished what she could of the apple. She was stuffed. "I'll just relax for a sec" she thought "then I should find something to bring up to the other two. Ah, and I should ask Moss if she wants to join-" Sam looked up at the pixie.

And saw the giant standing in the doorway.

The giant was the same as earlier. She walked in, past the shelves where the fae were, and began moving around jars and cans in search of something. After a very long few seconds she found it and left the little room none the wiser.

Sam groaned and brought her knife out to get some apple chunks to pack into her bag. She motioned for Moss to get over here once it was full.

"What's up?" Moss landed on the wood, dripping juice and half covered in cherry skin and chunks. She looked just as unfazed about a close encounter with a giant as before.

"We gotta go, that giant is apparently going to be walking in and out all day." Sam said as she began climbing back down the shelf.

"Why?" Moss fluttered next to Sam as the rat climbed "She didn't see us. Big folk never do."

"Oh she's seen me before." Sam hopped down to the floor "Tried to smack me with a broom. She missed but I'd rather not give her a chance to hit."

"Really? You must be bad at glamour."

"I don't have much magic so yeah." Sam walked ahead.

"What's magic have to do with it? You just gotta stand really still." said Moss genuinely.

"I... let's just move." Sam already gets headaches from hearing fairies chatter about how magic works, she really didn't want to hear about pixie magic right now.

The giant was still in the kitchen. But she was engrossed in whatever she was doing so the two fae were able to skitter right back into the walls unnoticed.

Until Sam nearly trampled Glimmer.

"Gah, what the-" Sam started.

Glimmer turned. The fairy was covered in dust. Some was entangled in their hair, making it look fuzzy.

"What happened to you?" said Sam.

"Cleaning." said Glimmer wearily. They looked Sam up and down and then at Moss "You?"

"Got lost... found her." she motioned to Moss.

"Hi!" said Moss.

"Then..." Sam looked down at herself to find she was covered in apple juice which had then picked up all the dust Glimmer had missed. "I got some apples." she opened her bag and offered some to Glimmer.

Glimmer raised a brow and took out one of the chunks. Which was already browning at the edges. All the same they took a bite.

"You guys want a bath?"

"Yes!" Sam said with more enthusiasm than she wanted "Where though?"

Taking another bite, Glimmer motioned for them to follow as they walked back out to the kitchen.

[simplyzeeka]

Sweet Confections

A/n: this was actually the first thing I wrote for Terry that never saw the publics eyes. I remember I saw this writing prompt on tiktok that had one word only "sweet", initially I though, 'why not try to write sosmething'

And voila, it isn't long... just a little drabble.

Words: 600+

Summary: In which Terry finds his woman in every confection.

Warnings: MDNI!!, Mentions of sexual conduct. Short

Terry always had a knack of sweet confections. Anything that kept his tongue in his mouth and away from places that would help relieve a never-dying itch.

Usually he preferred anything with honey. Honey joy cheesecake, honeycomb cookies, Russian honey cake. Anything that tastes the slightest bit like Sierra's Marc Jacobs perfume.

Terry always made sure he helped himself to a lick on her neck (which often turned into hickies) when he was balls deep inside of her, digging out his favourite honey that leaked out from deep inside of her.

Then there was chocolate. The candy really went with anything honestly. He always appreciated the versatility of the rich confectionery.

It reminded him of just how quick Sierra could switch shit up. Sometimes she was good, giving Terry all she could of herself with her leg propped on the dinner table and another planted firmly on the ground. Terry taking her from behind in reckless abandon. The sound of the table scraped on the floor and their skin clapping only added to how much she soothed Terry's cravings.

Vanilla came close to chocolate. Just as versatile, but soft and serene. While the essence was used in many confections, vanilla was always what soothed a less carnal side of Terry.

Like how he tended to smell more like Sierra's vanilla candles more than his own cologne. Or the little trick she does in dabbing some vanilla essence on her skin when she wants a smoother scent on her skin.

Sometimes even the times Terry spent helping her bake her famous tiramisu cake, which always had more vanilla than tiramisu that Terry never cared to comment on.

Passion fruit isn't Terry's all time favourite, but Sierra finds a way to leave the tropical taste in his mouth and make him enjoy it.

She always tended to end a night out with her famous passion fruit martini. Although Terry swore he never liked the taste of the pulp-filled fruit. He swore with the same mouth that Sierra inhabited the taste of anything she drank or ate for a while.

Terry learned to love the taste of the tropical paradise that laid slick and leaking with pulp and reconsideration between Sierra’s thighs. Perhaps, with more practice, he could grow fonder of the fruit, especially if Sierra came mixed with it.

Peaches were often an undermined fruit, but not to Terry. Of course this statement came with bias.

While usually, the fruit reminded him of the days spent at crowded cookouts since marrying Sierra. Where her mother often baked a few batches of peach cobbler for each of their guests and a little extra. Terry made it his duty to always cop himself a few extra slices to take back home.

But the fruit also reminded him of Sierra's fragile routine of layering her perfume. Cocoa butter body cream, vanilla perfume and peaches & cream perfume oil, in that order specifically.

When Sierra used that combo, it happened very rarely that she left the house without having to take another shower. Courtesy of Terry eating and sweating her out.

Sierra loved cherry flavoured liquorice, she always made sure she was stocked up when grocery shopping, would fight tooth and nail to make sure there were at least one full jar of the stringy candy.

Her love for the flavoured candy came from her love of the fruit. As much as there was always cherry liquorice in the kitchen, best believe there would be just as many cherries in the fridge.

Everytime she went to visit her grandmother in the countryside with Terry, they would pick a few cherries everyday to snack on, before returning to their daily farming chores.

The sunny days would always be filled with joyous laughter and never-ending affection. Terry loved nothing more than watching the way the wedding band that rested on Sierra's finger glimmered in the sunlight, the rock being a reminder that he's had the honour to call such a woman his wife.

Every taste reminded Terry of her. In every food he saw a bit of Sierra. Which, ironically, did nothing to help keep his tongue in his mouth, but that has never been the goal regardless

A/n: Like I said. Short and sweet... pun intended, lol. Can't believe I forgot all about this works. I might incorporate some of these into different fanfiction since I live playing with senses in my writing.

Taglist:

@blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee @megamindsecretlair @mogul93 @earthchica @nayaesworld @cdotmvkspaz @zillasvilla

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

The hand that feeds is the hand that's loved

Chapter 4: Curry not

Astarion's an aspiring lawyer, who's running from his past and suffers from a long list of food allergies. Gale's a former culinary prodigy, who's going through a nasty divorce and suffers from cooking fatigue. They meet in the snack aisle.

Trigger Waring (18+): Alternate Universe: Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Lawyer Astarion, Cook Gale, Astarion Has Food Allergies, Gale Is Depressed, Astarion Everything Is A Transaction Ancunin, Unnecessary Cooking And Food Details, This Is Basically A Culinary Show, Author Constantly Thinks About Food, Food As A Love Language, POV Astarion, Emotional Rollercoaster, Feelings, Overthinking, PTSD, Dissociation, Past Domestic Abuse, Past Non-Con/Rape, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Blow Job/Fellatio

Read on AO3

With a huff, Astarion banged open the door of his apartment, kicked off his shoes, and manoeuvred the shopping bags into the kitchen. He hated to go grocery shopping in the evenings. There were always too many people in the supermarket. Sighing deeply, Astarion sat everything down on the counter. It was time to meal prep.

Since he suffered from so many food allergies and food sensitivities, it was literally impossible to eat out or order in. He had to make every single meal he ate himself, or otherwise, he'd spent the next seventy-two hours in agony. Switching between curling up in bed in the foetus position, and hunching over the toilet, ejecting his entire stomach content one way or another. And all that while running a fever, breaking out in cold sweat, trembling like a leaf, and gripped by stomach cramps. Yeah, no thank you. He had had enough of that during his childhood and teen years. Never again.

Astarion took out his phone and logged into the GobblingGoblin online store to place his usual order of items he couldn't buy at GlutMart: dried wakame seaweed, toasted (with olive oil instead of sesame oil) nori seaweed snacks, vegan chocolate bars with cherries, dried porcini mushrooms, orange-flavoured rooibos iced tea sweetened with agave syrup, and gluten-free, vegan saltine crackers. He winced at the price, but nonetheless paid via PayMate. With that out of the way, Astarion started meal prepping. He washed, halfway peeled, and sliced the fresh cucumbers. He filled them into five glass containers with airtight lids, of which each one could fit exactly one sliced cucumber and a small jar of salad dressing. Astarion whipped up the latter in a bigger bowl, mixing together apple cider vinegar, olive oil, salt, and black pepper, before dividing it into the five small jars. He sprinkled some frozen, pre-chopped chives and caraway seeds over the cucumber slices before adding the little sauce jars on top and snapping the lids shut. Astarion placed his weekly ration of salad in the fridge. He cooked a fresh batch of white rice to store for later use as well. Meanwhile, he prepared his dinner with the last bit of what was left over from the last portion. In a microwave-safe serving bowl, he created a soup base with vegetable bouillon powder, pepper, and some boiling water from the electric kettle. Then, he added some dried wakame seaweed and the leftover rice, mixing it all thoroughly before topping everything off with some more boiling water. Dinner was served. With a sigh, Astarion slumped onto a chair at the kitchen table and started eating. He didn't cook to woo and wow people with fancy creations. He cooked to survive, using his scarce ingredient options to make meals that were tasty enough to eat every day without triggering his gag reflex when smelling them. He and Gale were not the same. Unenthusiastically, Astarion supped the too-familiar soup and was grateful as it warmed his body from the inside out. When he'd finished it, he hunted down the second-to-last chocolate bar in his pantry and munched it while his mind drifted off, once again occupying itself with thoughts about Gale. Groaning, Astarion ran a hand down his face. He had kissed him in the park and agreed to a goddamn date! Falling for a client was an absolute no-go, especially when their case wasn't closed yet. Thankfully, he'd been professional on Monday during their meeting and had shook Gale's hand instead of kissed him again.

"Get your shit together, Ancunín," Astarion scolded himself. The last thing he needed was getting into trouble because his dick did the thinking instead of his head. As if to taunt him, his phone vibrated to notify him of a message from his favourite client.

Gale Dekarios: Good evening, Mister Ancunín, I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I have a couple of questions. Do you like chocolate? Can you eat freeze-dried cherries and berries? Do you also have a negative reaction to pickled onions? Can you eat garlic if it's cook for over an hour? I'm looking forward to hear from you :) Sincerely, Gale

For a moment, the lawyer stared at the message as if it could bite him. What the hell were these questions? He finally unfroze from his paralysis and typed out a reply.

Astarion Ancunín: Hello, Mister Dekarios. Yes, I like chocolate. I can eat freeze-dried cherries and berries. I don't know about the onion and garlic thing because I've never tried it before. Also, no one ever cooked garlic for so long, just the normal amount of time? I don't know how to answer that question. Why do you want to know anyway? Are you thinking about me while you're cooking? ;) Have a nice evening.

Stop flirting, you idiot! Astarion cringed inwardly about his own stupidity. Thankfully, his phone vibrated before he started spiralling.

Gale Dekarios: Okay, great! Thank you for answering so quickly. I'm doing some experimenting in the kitchen, so, yes, I'm thinking about you while I'm cooking. :)

Astarion Ancunín: Sounds fun, but please don't treat me like a lab rat, and don't serve me some fancy shit either. What about that Halruaan rice you promised me?

Gale Dekarios: Worry not! I always keep my promises. I just got inspired and started to think about tweaking certain recipes to fit your needs. For example, my mother's infamous chicken soup. I also got a few other ideas and theories. If you'd humour me, I'd be very curious how your body will react. Nothing dangerous, of course. I don't want you to get sick. Just rather harmless chemistry experiments.

Astarion Ancunín: Like what? Using laughing gas to force-feed me with your creations?

Gale Dekarios: Good heavens, no! D: I'd never do anything without your consent! Plus, I'll write down every single ingredient that I'll use to create our dinner. Nitrous oxide is commonly used in whipped cream canisters and cooking sprays though.

Astarion Ancunín: I was merely joking, darling, stop clutching your pearls. Also, I know about whippets. They're a rather popular party drug in the Lower City.

Gale Dekarios: God... The only thing I'm addicted to is my work.

Astarion Ancunín: I'd drink to that if I could. To us workaholics!

Gale Dekarios: Touché!

The house looked odd. Astarion double-checked the address, but he seemed to be at the right place. The grey stone building had a square, raised ground floor and first upper floor. The other three floor were a literal, round tower with a conical roof.

Since moving to Waterdeep three years ago, Astarion had never seen this building before – granted, he usually didn't hang around in the Dock Ward neighbourhood. The chilly wind tousled his silver curls, the smell of saltwater, fish, and algae were in the air. Seagulls screamed and fought over a few soggy French fries in a puddle. Astarion flinched when a cargo ship honked somewhere behind him, and he hurriedly rang the doorbell. When Gale opened the door and greeted him, Astarion couldn't help but ogle him. The cook was dressed in a dark purple polo shirt and dark blue jeans. He wore his brown hair in a half-updo and his beard neatly trimmed. As Gale showed Astarion around, the light caught a dangling, silver earring. A star with small amethyst gemstones. The man was stunning, and Astarion couldn't look away.

"So, how does one acquire a tower?" the latter wanted to know. "I didn't expect such an eccentric, humble home for a famed star chef like you."

"Oh, really? What did you expect?"

"Something sleek and modern. Boring and sterile, with loads of chrome. Like a restaurant kitchen."

Gale laughed amused and replied: "Not my style at all, but to be fair, it's exactly what my wife likes. You pretty much described the apartment I shared with her."

"Ugh, sounds dreadful," Astarion retorted. To his surprise, Gale agreed.

"It was. I never felt at home there – which might explains why I only went there to sleep and nothing else really. I poured myself into work instead. But enough of that."

He led Astarion towards the table in the living room and pulled the chair out for him. Astarion sat down and accepted the offered glass of water with a smile. He watched as Gale hurried to the kitchen to plate the first course of their dinner and served it, before sitting down. Astarion inspected the salad in front of him.

"A multiple-course meal? Oh, my! What did I do to deserve this?" he joked, and Gale smiled bashfully.

"I... I suppose I'm trying to impress you, Mister Ancunín. You're a rather fascinating specimen."

"Charmer," chuckled Astarion. "And let's drop the honorific form of address. This is a date, after all." Blushing a tad, Gale nodded. How adorable. "Tell me about your grandiose dinner plan, and how and what you came up with."

Unsurprisingly, the addressed's face lit up and he started rambling happily.

"Well, as you can tell, we start off with a beetroot salad. After cooking them, I diced and tossed them in a balsamic vinaigrette. The addition of caraway seeds gives it a distinctive flair that reminds me of the national dish of the North: borscht. For an extra kick of freshness, I added a few filleted orange slices as decoration. That pleases the eye, the tastebuds, and the health. Bon appétit!"

"Bon appétit," smirked Astarion and took the first bite. The earthy flavour of the beetroots harmonised well with the caraway seeds and the citrus flavour. "It's lovely."

"Yes, but nothing special, I'm afraid," Gale retorted, completely ignoring the praise. "Salads are one of the most versatile dishes, but if you can't use any raw vegetables, it's much more challenging to make it colourful and interesting."

"You could have gone for the safe option: cucumber salad. It's the only veggie I can eat raw without any issues," Astarion remarked "But you didn't. You wanted to surprise me with something different, and that's rather thoughtful."

"Yes. Well." Gale cleared his throat awkwardly. "I cannot resist a challenge when one arises. A constant folly of mine, I'm afraid."

"I don't mind. It's a charming folly."

Astarion watched amused as Gale turned the same colour as their salads, and quickly finished the first course. The brunet carried the plates back to the kitchen and returned with the promised Halruaan rice. The smell alone had Astarion salivating.

"Voilà, the famed Eastern dish, as promised!"

"Honestly, I've been waiting for this all week," admitted Astarion. "I even fantasised about the rice in my sleep."

"Well, then I'm glad I can satisfy this urge," Gale told him, before they dug in. The long grain rice was fluffy and firm to the bite. The mild yellow curry was elevated by sweet bits of raisins and dates. On the side, Gale had served a juicy chicken breast, marinated with the same yellow curry mixture and a drizzle of honey, and had garnished it with a fresh sprig of rosemary. Holy shit, it was delicious. Astarion couldn't help but moan at the taste, making Gale blush once more in the process.

"I apologise for ever doubting you. You really are a culinary wizard!"

Gale huffed a laugh, sounding relieved.

"I'm glad you like it, Astarion."

They lapsed into comfortable silence while they ate, until Gale spoke up again.

"I haven't actually answered your question from earlier. About the tower?" Astarion hummed encouragingly, shovelling another forkful of addictive rice into his mouth. "Originally, it served as a harbour tower since the middle ages, but has lost its importance one hundred and fifty years ago."

"And then it was just offered for sale?" Astarion asked in disbelief. "Not turned into a museum, or something? This city's so obsessed with its history otherwise."

"Ahem, well..." Gale grinned sheepishly. "Both sides of my family are deeply rooted in Waterdeep, and my maternal ancestors weren't cooks but fishers."

Astarion's eyes widened in realisation.

"No... Don't tell me that..."

"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," giggled Gale. "This tower belongs to the Aumar family since the thirteenth century. My great-grandfather was the last harbour tower guard before the industrialisation, and since the tower lost its use and value, my family was able to keep it. My grandparents lived here, and after their death, the property went to Elminster." Gale had a fond look on his face as he smiled. He was beautiful, Astarion thought once more. "I've made a lot of good memories in here. After... after the scandal, Elminster encouraged me to move in long-term." He sighed as a shadow past his face. "You know, even before all of that, we had marital problems. Occasionally, Mystra got so mad at me that she changed the locks of the apartment and refused to let me in. During these times, Elminster allowed me to hunker down in here. The tower was empty anyway, so he told me to make myself comfortable and make it my own. I never had a say in the apartment’s furnishing and decor. Mystra hated how our tastes clash. Well..." Gale shrugged, smiling apologetically. "It's not my fault I like my home to be cosy."

He seemed so tired all of a sudden. So much older than thirty-five. Astarion suppressed the urge to stand up, walk over, and stroke the other man's hair. Instead, he remarked: "Well, darling, in my opinion, your home's nice and cosy, and I like it a lot. It feels warm and safe."

"Not cluttered?" Gale asked, the corners of his mouth ticking up.

"I think that's part of the charm, darling," teased the addressed, and they laughed about it.

After polishing off his plate, Astarion couldn't resist when Gale offered him seconds. When he was done with it, the cook prepared the dessert in the kitchen. It gave Astarion time to thoroughly look around and find out more about the other man. The plentiful, overflowing bookshelves gave away Gale's love for reading, the many pots everywhere proved his green thumb, and the old-fashioned furniture made of dark wood and velvet revealed Gale's taste. Astarion's head snapped back to attention when the brunet walked in, carrying a serving tray. Maybe he could continue his snooping later on.

"Ta-da! Tiramisu and a Myratma Fog!"

"Gale..."

"Listen, I know what you're thinking, and I'm aware it looks like the real deal, but it's not, I promise! I brew organic lavender from the Purple Hills region and steamed almond milk, which I've sweetened with vanilla sugar before. I gently stirred it all together, placed some almond milk macrofoam on top, and garnished it with a sprinkle of dried lavender flowers. It's safe for you to drink, I swear it on the lives of all my ancestors."

"What about the tiramisu?" Astarion asked quietly. "That's biscuits, coffee, mascarpone, and egg. I'm not an idiot, Gale."

"I know, yes, but I - I changed the recipe! I bought vegan mascarpone, and it consists of coconut cream, rape seed oil, and guar gum flour. I double-checked the ingredient list, I swear!" Gale was stumbling over his words in the haste to explain himself. "I used gluten-free, vegan ladyfingers and soaked them in Amaretto and chicory coffee substitute. I left out the eggs and simply fluffed up the vegan mascarpone with sugar, and orange and lemon zest. I topped it off with a light dusting of a cocoa and powdered sugar mixture."

Despite Gale's words, Astarion stared and poked at the dessert as if it could jump off the plate and bite him. Gale sat down with a heavy sigh.

"It's safe to eat, I promise. I'm not trying to hurt you and make you ill. Quite the contrary, actually." A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he nervously rubbed his nose. "I believe more chefs should cater to people with food allergies. It was rather challenging to hunt down all the ingredients I needed, and if food companies and cooks would focus more on that problem, new products would be invented, the variety would increase, and the prices would be less exorbitant."

"That's exactly why I try to stay away from products that are specifically labelled as allergen-free," Astarion ranted. "All those breads, cookies, and snacks are at least twice as expensive as the 'normal' products, and, as the cherry on top, usually, they taste like shit!"

Gale laughed, good-naturedly.

"I think you're onto something."

"Naturally," quipped Astarion, winking.

They lapsed into a pleasant silence. It was never fully quiet in Gale's tower though. The grandfather clock was ticking slowly, the fridge hummed in the background, the fireplace – which apparently was the building's heating system – crackled, and outside the windows screeched a colony of seagulls.

Finally, Astarion cut off a piece of the tiramisu with the spoon and, with a pounding heart, put it in his mouth. ... Fuck. He closed his eyes as long-forgotten but still familiar flavours exploded over his tongue, and his tastebuds sang their praise. Despite being a coffee substitute, the chicory offered the typical roasted flavour and harmonised perfectly with the nuttiness of the almond liqueur. The vegan mascarpone had a thicker, less fluffy texture than the real stuff, but still provided the required creaminess. The zests gave it a fresh kick, which would cut through the heaviness of the dairy, but in this case, they served to enhance the taste of the vegan mascarpone. The bittersweetness of the cocoa/sugar powder brought it all together. It obviously didn't taste like 'real' tiramisu, but it was easily the best dessert Astarion had ever had since he'd cut out all the allergens. Fuck. He swallowed another bite.

"Is it to your liking?" Gale wanted to know, sounding anxious for some damn reason. Was he actually nervous? He? The culinary prodigy, who could do magic in the kitchen? Astarion opened his eyes, horrified to feel the sting of tears in them.

"Gale... this is the best thing I've eaten in fifteen years. Not just the tiramisu but the entire dinner. I... I don't know what to say." Astarion barked a laugh, furiously blinking away the unshed tears. "There are no words that could describe my gratitude, so, I'll make it simple. Thank you, Gale. This is a gift, you know, and I'll never forget it."

The addressed beamed at him, replying: "Anything for you, Astarion."

After finishing their dessert, Astarion followed Gale into the kitchen. He knew what naturally came next. They were on a date, after all. Usually, Astarion made sure to keep some room in his stomach, but he'd had no self-control tonight. Gale's cooking was too delicious to deny. So, there was no way he could be fucked without the risk of puking. A blowjob then. Yes, he could do that. Astarion observed Gale, who was yapping about the little experiments he wanted to involve the lawyer with. The latter hadn't really been listening, too distracted by the thoughts of repaying the cook for his generosity. When Gale was drying his hands on a kitchen towel, Astarion took it as his cue. He moved closer, trapping the other man against the kitchen counter.

"You know," he purred, "no one has ever cooked for me specifically before. What I like or what I can eat never mattered. I just had to make do with what was given to me. So... thank you, Gale. For everything."

He leaned in for a kiss, sighing when their lips met. Gale's were soft, plush, and warm, and the cook brought his hands up to cradle Astarion's face between them. The lawyer liked it. He gently sucked on Gale's lower lip, and when the brunet gasped, Astarion slipped his tongue into the other's mouth, making him moan. It felt so good. Kissing Gale was a revelation. Astarion liked everything about him: his personality, his looks, his scent, his taste. Gale was the first person in years, who didn't put Astarion off. With a happy, little sigh, the brunet drew back to gasp for breath.

"Astarion," he whispered, reverently. The addressed felt a pleasant shiver running up his spine. Kissing Gale felt great, but he knew that was not enough for payment, and he wasn't sure if he'd enjoy the next part of it.

"You took care of me, now, let me take care of you in return, darling," he purred and unzipped Gale's jeans. The latter's breath hitched, his eyes widened. Oh, he was totally into this. Of course he was. Astarion was beautiful, and they both knew it. The lawyer went down on his knees, pulling Gale's trousers and underwear down. The half-hard cock sprang free, uncut, and nestled in a neatly trimmed bush. At least, he wasn't gross. A small mercy. Astarion licked his lips. He could do this. He'd done it countless times before. This was Gale, not a random stranger, and he would be gentle. Wouldn't choke him on his dick until he gagged and threw up. This was Gale, with his soft eyes and warm hands. He wouldn't pull his hair and push him down. Wouldn't call him derogatory terms while fucking his throat raw. Astarion took a deep breath to calm himself and glanced up to see a look of awe and adoration on the other man's flushed face. Gale wouldn't hurt him. Determined, Astarion took him in his mouth, deliberately slowly, running his tongue along the underside of Gale's dick. It wasn't so girthy that it caused lock-jaw, and it smelled clean and faintly of lavender. Gale's dick was perfect – and so were the noises he made. Little hitches of breath and high-pitched whimpers. Delicious. His surprisingly dextrous fingers were in Astarion's curls, not griping or pushing, but lightly massaging his scalp, which was rather pleasant. Astarion focused on sucking the cock in his mouth, he was a professional after all. He drew back to lick the tip, tasting the pearly precum. It wasn't too bad. With closed eyes, he sunk down again, twirling his tongue, while his hand stroke the base. He had an intense fear of deepthroating ever since that one very specific incident when –

"Astarion... I'm close. Please..."

Ah, alright then. The addressed hummed in understanding and kept going. Gale's panting sounded loud and harsh in the otherwise quiet room.

"Astarion."

There was a sob and a hitched breath, and then, Gale was coming. Astarion swallowed it all down dutifully – too afraid of the punishment if he wouldn't – and was surprised that it didn't even taste too bad. Other than HIM, Gale didn't drink coffee nor alcohol, nor did he smoke, so, maybe, that explained the difference in taste. With a gasp, Astarion popped off the softening dick, slightly dazed. The gentle fingers in his hair wandered down to his cheek to tilt his head up.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Astarion. I didn't mean to - to - But you didn't stop."

"What's the problem, darling? Didn't it feel good to come in my mouth? Isn't it what you wanted?"

The lawyer's voice was raspy and his speech slightly slurred as he peered up through his long, black lashes.

"W-well..." stammered Gale, turning crimson. "It – It felt good."

Astarion hummed in acknowledgement. Of course, it felt good. He'd been praised for his skills often enough. He knew he was a talented cocksucker.

"Was it... good for you too?"

Okay, that was new. Astarion blinked a couple of times, dumbstruck, and found his way back into his body.

"Of course, darling," he lied, coquettishly. – Was it a lie? Astarion suddenly wasn't sure anymore.

"Oh." Gale let go of the breath he'd been holding. "What a relief. I have no intention of making you uncomfortable, or getting you into a sticky situation."

"Sticky, eh?" Astarion smirked, his brain fully online again, as he stood up with feline grace. "It's fine, darling. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself so thoroughly."

To his utter surprise, Gale placed a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips despite the fact that he'd just sucked his dick and reeked of it.

"I'll gladly return the favour," the cook told him, still flushed. "I - I can do that for you, if you wish."

"That's not necessary," Astarion replied quickly. "The pleasure was all mine, and it's getting late."

"But..." Gale frowned. "It would be rather ungentlemanly of me not to –"

"You can be a gentleman next time," Astarion interrupted him smoothly. Gale kept frowning, but thankfully didn't object. Astarion was relieved when the brunet turned around and started stacking food containers with leftovers into a cooling bag, together with his experiments.

"Here you go," Gale smiled. "Again, you don't have to indulge my curiosity if you fear it'll be unsafe for you, but I'm curious about the results nonetheless."

"I'll see what I can do," replied Astarion smoothly.

"Spoken like a true lawyer," teased the cook.

"I am a true lawyer."

Laughing, they moved towards the front door, and Astarion took the cooling bag from Gale, before pecking him on the cheek and stepping outside.

"Thank you, Gale. I had a lovely time," smiled Astarion. He meant it. The addressed smiled back.

"Me too. Goodnight, Astarion. Be safe."

With a curt nod, the lawyer turned around.

As he walked along the wharf beneath the yellow light of the streetlamps and lulled by the sound of the gently swaying sea, he could still taste Gale on his tongue. For the first time in forever, the lingering cum didn't make him want to retch. How peculiar.

[lottiesnotebook]

happy friday! how about “chocolate-covered strawberries” for leliana/morrigan?

Ooh thank you for my first prompt that's from tonight rather than yesterday! I hope the ficlet is suitably delicious...

Leliana/Morrigan, Origins era, implied sexual content

@dadrunkwriting

sugar and spice

"You've never had sweets before?" Leliana is staring at her with a horror that borders on pity, a horror that cannot be bourne.

"Do not be ridiculous. We have- honeycomb. Apples, in the autumn. Berries, sometimes, in the summer. We did not live like animals." She already knows that this is not what Leliana means though. "Besides, such dainties are a waste of work and ingredients, when every day you must fight to survive."

It does not feel like much a victory, leastways not in the streets of Denerim - she's witnessed more than one fight for survival in the alleys and backstreets they've frequented since they arrived, and yet still, apparently, there are people with the time and luxury to while away their hours in toil over food that could barely fill a mouth, let alone a starving belly.

Still, the storefronts in the market draw her eye nonetheless - they are designed to do as much, with their sugar-spun castles and golden marchpane mice, with their golden-baked pie-crusts and pale, airy meringues. Despite her dismissal, they make her mouth water. They draw her eye, and she cannot disguise the temptation that crosses her face whenever they pass a propped-open doorway. Once she'd thought the scent of fresh-baked bread a luxury, but this… this is a temptation beyond imagining. If Connor's desire demon had conjured her a table of such sweetness, she would have been glutting herself without a second thought of the danger.

But of course, she cannot tell Leliana this. She has her pride, after all. So she averts her gaze, does not allow herself to linger, to unpick the scents of blackberry and almond and cherry, to let herself be tempted and tantalised until she is drawn irresistibly to the source of the smells and devours them like an animal, until jam drips from her face like a child or an animal. Such indignity is unthinkable.

So she does not look, she does not even think, and she has nearly allowed herself to forget entirely by the time Leliana slopes into her room with the barest of knocks for the sake of decency.

"Have a care," she cautions her, "You might have seen more than you wished."

"Are you the expert on my wishes then, Morrigan?" Leliana retorts, with a mocking curve to her lips. "Perhaps I was hoping for a peek beneath your robes, not that they hide much."

"My mother would put your eyes out for such impertinence," Morrigan says, mildly, but does not move to do the same, which Leliana clearly takes as permission to remain. She crosses to her bed, sprawls across it uninvited, loose-limbed, the leather of her breeches clinging to her legs so that they might as well be bare.

"Will it cheer you to know I brought you a present?" Leliana teases. "Something to sweeten your temper, and maybe even your tongue."

"You truly do believe in miracles," Morrigan sniffs, but takes the proffered pot - thin clay, unglazed, given away by street vendors with a thousand dishes to sell, to be smashed in the gutter or returned for pennies later. Unusually, it is lidded, a bow around the small handle-

"I said it was a gift for a lady," Leliana grins, an impish dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth. "The confectioneur had specific opinions on how such a gift should be given."

"Oh?" She looses the ribbon with one hand, winds the satin around her wrist - such waste, in this city, that something so fine could be given away in snippets and scraps - and lifts the lid of the jar. The air within is crisp and chill compared to the sticky city-summer heat, and scented with- "Strawberries?"

"You ate most of the ones we found on the road," Leliana says, still smirking. "I thought they might prove an apt introduction to the finer parts of city life."

"I found the strawberries we ate on the road," Morrigan reminds her, but plucks one up by the stem. They are coated in something glossy, brown, and utterly unfamiliar to her eyes. "What covers them? Some bard's poison?"

Leliana laughs at that. "No, silly! It is chocolate - brought all the way from Seheron. It is all the rage in Val Royeux."

"Choc-o-lot." She sounds the word out, tastes it on her tongue before she tastes the thing itself. "A strange word."

"A Qunari word, allegedly. I wonder if Sten ate it for breakfast, before he came over the sea."

It is impossible to imagine Sten pinching the stem of these delicate fruits between his massive fingers, but they fit in Leliana's dainty hands well enough as she plucks one up and presses it between her lips.

The taste is- the taste is like nothing she's ever tried before, dark and rich and heady as a warm summer night, with hints of bitterness and cream warring for dominance before the brightness of the berry bursts across her tongue and mingles with them. It is the most perfect thing she's ever tasted, and in the moment, she loses herself to the flavour, to the pleasure of it, and the sound she lets out is-

Well, it brings a blush to both their cheeks, and at that point, what else can she do to brazen it out but lick the rest of the chocolate from Leliana's fingers, and pin her down to capture her squeals within her own mouth?

"So, what do you think of sweets?" Leliana will ask, much later.

"I can think of but one thing more delicious," she replies, smug, and watches the colour creep up her breast to her cheeks.

[ccasipoeta]

˚₊‧ my favs as red velvet concepts ۶ৎ

billlie ₊˚⊹ feel like they would ATE UP a russian roulette or ice cream cake kind of concept.

✩ 50s-ish, cute violence, saturated colors and more pastel ones and basically just trying to kill each other but cutely. maybe some 80s tints like really curly and voluminous hair with leg warmers and chunky jewelry? and i feel like a bit of inspiration from 60s make up would really be the cherry on top, prominent eyelashes, light blue eyeshadow and blush.

✩ then we have a more casual one, gas station or retro diner in the middle of nowhere, pastel colors, early 2010s vibes, denim, converse, coloured contact lenses, disheveled hair in the wind (bonus points if all members have the same hair color or just the same color in different tones) ALSO i think runny mascara and messy make up would really add to the aesthetic and i want them to recreate the oversized sweaters with white skirts and shorts look rv used in the icc mv but the sweaters being their representative colors. i think they would pull off icc more naturally and comfortably than rr but let a girl dream.

chuu + loossemble ₊˚⊹ let's just pair them together because of the rumours of looble going to atrp (which i support FULLY). they would really pull off either a full red concept or a full velvet concept, more precisely dumb dumb & automatic.

✩ factory dolls, very bright colors, funky hairstyles, repetitive and toy-like motions, ballerina flats and mismatching coloured converse, complementary colors, very very colorful outfits with PRINTED AND COLOURED TIGHTS!!! idk why but i feel like headbands and caps (of course, also COLORFUL) are a must. feel like a bit of inspiration from early 2010's fashion would go well, but don't overuse it! i would like for the non-yyxy members to get representative fruits too. like, you know that scene in the mv where yeri is throwing a jar of cheese puffs, imagine if it's, i don't know, hyunjin with lemons, yeojin with tangerines or oranges or vivi with raspberries. god, imagine dumb dumb but with their representative colors 🚬

✩ theeen, we have automatic. now that i think about it, the outfits really remind me of butterfly era, but add more retro elements. wavy hair, 50s hairstyles, ponytails with bows, headbands, hair buckles, lace elements, PEARLS!! (earrings, necklaces, bracelets), red lipstick, eyeliner and smoky eyes, achromatic, very sophisticated outfits and overall very feminine looks. also white button up t-shirts are a MUST. hello ?? the apple ?? they're loona's mothers fr

yves + artms ₊˚⊹ since i paired looble and chuu why not pair yves and artms while we're at it! i would love to see them in a cosmic-like concept but darker and more cult-ish, or in other words, peek-a-boo!

✩ feel like they would EAT UP the sailors concept. midsommar kind of concept but darker and more cult like. flowers, LOTS of flowers, especially their official flowers (the ones they used in the ptt photoshoot). flower crowns, braids, wavy hair (& someone with a BOB!!!), white dresses with flower embroidery patterns, knee high & ankle brown boots, pearls would also be cute, a lot of like friendship bracelets, but not the ones with beads, the fabric ones.

✩ feel like cosmic and peek a boo are sides of the same coin, please see my vision. i feel like if they did something like this it would have LOTS of lore and i love it. also it they did something like the red dresses and crowns i would like if they did it with some color that isn't a loona member's, like idk white + all members with black hair would EAT. in the peek a boo teasers irene used a velvet marching band kind of outfit which i also think would suit this crazily good.

twice ₊˚⊹ it was kind of hard to choose two concepts for them since they're grown woman and it would be dumb to give them a red concept lol. anyways, i think feel my rhythm and chill kill would suit them sooooo good.

✩ omg i would love to see a heavily art inspired concept for them. if they ever did a ballerina concept it would be MINA ERA!! and imagine if they incorporated some ballet things to the choreo like the fmr intro... god i love ballerina mina. i don't even know what to say this concept would eat soooooo hard omg now i physically need it.

✩ feel like chill kill is kind of like a sisterhood concept, like sisters killing men 💖 maybe that's why i think it fits twice really well lol. if they did the weapons thing it would be SO cool. this concept would be something new and innovative for them since it would be the darkest concept they ever did and it has a storyline and even acting! yes this is for dahyun 😊 anyways they would pull this off amazingly change my mind

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 13 - Blown Cover

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 12.9k words - AO3 Link

Snow was falling lightly now as Gaz pulled open the door and extended his hand to Emma, his normally smiling face gone to be replaced with a stern stoic look. They weren’t friends in this role, he was her paid bodyguard and she probably should barely even know his name. Emma took his hand and pulled herself out before quickly letting go and walking to the door, leaving Soap and Crane to get out on their own. Trying not to fidget, Emma waited as Gaz spoke to the bouncer at the door, getting patted down and his gun removed, before they were all let inside. Their car pulled off down the street as they stepped inside and Emma squinted a bit to see.

It was dimly lit inside the jazz club, most of the light only coming from the stage where a live band was playing. There were tables scattered about the place with small candle lamps on them and the bar was directly in the middle of the floor with seating all around it. Despite it being open concept the décor itself was anything but modern, red velvet was the theme for all the upholstery, and gold tassels accented everything, including holding open curtains on the booths along the walls. Easy to drop them off if guests were looking for privacy. The place wasn’t packed per se but there were still plenty of people milling about, all dressed like they had just walked out of a magazine in their expense suits and dresses.

“He’s at a table,” a voice in Emma’s ear said and she nearly jumped. She had forgotten about the earpiece and Alex’s voice had jarred her from her observing. He must have tapped into the cameras because Emma glanced around and didn’t see Mikhail. “Other side of the bar, he’s talking with one of his men,” Alex explained and Emma gave the faintest nod before walking that way.

Crane and Soap had broken off on their own, one of them finding an empty table and waving a waitress over, the other going to the bar so they had a straight-line view of Mikhail and ordering a drink. Gaz had moved off toward the back of the place near what Emma suspected was the kitchen door, standing in a parade rest position with his hands in front of him. He looked the part of a bodyguard as his eyes swept around the room but always going back to Emma every few seconds to clock her movements.

“Cherry vodka cocktail,” Emma stated to the bartender as she leaned up against the bar, careful to bend in just the right way. Mikhail was close to her and she had picked a spot that would be right in his view to see her long legs that disappeared under a short skirt. The move worked because Emma heard the voices behind her stop talking for a second and she peered over her shoulder to see them looking at her. A grin spread across Mikhail’s face and he locked eyes with her for a brief moment, Emma smiled before quickly looking away pretending to act a bit shy. He didn’t move to engage her yet though, instead reverting his attention to his conversation. Now all she had to do was wait.

The bartender returned with her drink and Emma sipped on it casually, her eyes watching the band play as if it were the most engrossing thing in the world. Emma had read in the file that Mikhail loved jazz music, he had hired a jazz band for his first two weddings in his twenties and was often at this bar to listen. After a couple of songs, Emma glanced over Mikhail again to find him watching her from the corner of his eye as he continued to talk with two men. She smiled again, not quite meeting his eyes, before reaching in to swirl the ice in her glass with her fingers before fishing out a maraschino cherry and popping it in her mouth. She was deliberate in the way she ate it before she pulled the stem from her equally red lips and tossed it into the glass. He wasn’t even trying to hide his stare at that point as he shifted in his seat which made Emma laugh lightly before turning around to watch the music again.

“He’s eating this up,” Alex’s voice came in Emma’s ear and she playfully smirked. “Soap’s not too happy though,” Alex tacked on, a chuckle evident in his voice, but Emma didn’t dare turn around to look him across the bar.

When Emma turned to order another drink, a man appeared at her shoulder. “Mister Lebedev would like you to join him at his table,” he stated as Emma turned to look up at him. He was a hulking guy with long hair tied back in a small bun atop his head. His suit looked too small for his body and was in desperate need of a shave, which told her that he was not one of the aristocrats here this evening. “This way,” he stated gesturing for her to walk, he wasn’t giving her much of a choice but that’s what Emma had been going for.

Grabbing her latest drink, this one with multiple cherries in it this time, Emma pushed off the bar the follow the man. She tucked her clutch under her arm took the man’s offered elbow and let him lead her to the table. She could feel eyes on her as she walked, it felt as if the whole club was looking at her. She spotted Crane at that moment over at the stage talking to a band that was about to go on, his eyes trailing over her before going back to his own conversation.

“Good evening,” Mikhail said, his English was perfect but he had a heavy Russian accent nonetheless. “Please join me,” he extended his hand to offer to help her sit. Emma took his hand lightly as she set her drink down on the table before sliding in right next to him. All of the tables were semi-circle booths that faced the stage with low-set tables to hold drinks. Emma was deliberate in her movements to make sure she was close to him, letting her dress ride up her leg a bit.

“What are you drinking this evening?” He asked as he eyed her exposed leg, Emma was certain the clips to her garter were showing, a bit of a tease. He raised his glass in the air to signal to the bartender to order his next drink, a straight whiskey which was odd to Emma since that seemed so American.

“Cherry vodka,” Emma answered him, “I figured Vodka would be the best choice, when in Rome and all that” she mused as the bartender came over with two drinks. One was for her, even though she wasn’t even done with her second, and one for Mikhail.

“Where are you visiting from?” Mikhail asked as he took a sip of his whiskey, sliding his arm along the back of the booth so his hand was behind her. She knew he could tell she had an American accent but he was keeping the conversation going.

“America,” Emma said simply as she raised her glass to her lips, “one last little hurrah around the world on my father’s dime,” She tapped her left ring finger on the glass so it clinked softly. The ring itself was obnoxious, a giant rectangle diamond on a gold band with no other embellishments on it, definitely not something she would ever pick out.

“Ah, you are getting married?” Mikhail asked raising his eyebrow, “I’ve had two of those and I can tell you they aren’t what they say they are. Single life is much more…fulfilling, I would run while you still can,” he glanced down at the ring and seemed satisfied with the size of it. So he now knew she came from money and enjoyed it as well.

“Why do you think I booked this trip?” Emma inquired as the band changed to include a singer this time. “I’m attempting to delay things as long as I can,” she sipped her drink again, “though my father threatened me with disinheritance if I didn’t follow through.” She rolled her eyes at that and shifted again in the seat, her skirt hiking up another inch, her garter was definitely on display now and his eyes zoned right in on it.

“What’s your name?” He asked after a moment of looking her over, swirling his drink in his hand so the one large ice cube bounced inside of the glass.

“Colette,” Emma replied as she sipped her drink, the liquid almost gone. She would need to pace herself, she hadn’t drank alcohol in months and the bartender wasn’t exactly light with his pours. “LeBlanc,” she added after a moment. It was a well-known family in Louisiana with lots of grandchildren and cousins that she could just feign relation to. They were a wealthy family that made their money on investments, construction, and sports teams, the patriarch of the family having owned the football team at one point before he sold it off.

“LeBlanc,” Mikhail mused over in his mind, the name jarring some memory of his. Good. That meant he had heard of them, something Emma was sure was a planned thing. “So a French American heiress running away from her marriage in Ukraine,” he grinned, “seems like an odd place to choose to visit. Wouldn’t you have preferred Paris?”

“When you spent all your summers there growing up, it loses its charm,” Emma answered. “My mother’s family is originally from Ukraine so I thought I’d go see my roots or something along those lines,” she laughed. “It also pissed off my fiancé that I picked here with everything going on, so that was an added bonus.”

“Oh? What does your fiancé do that makes him so important to your father you marry him? Is he in your family business?” Mikhail inquired.

“Oh no, he deals in military contracts,” Emma said offhandedly which caught Mikhail’s attention. “I honestly don’t really know what all he does; I just know he makes money and it eats up a lot of his time. I barely see him anymore, makes for a rather lonely life,” she grabbed the newest glass and slid her empty one away.

Mikhail seemed very interested in her now, aside from the fact he could almost see up to her underwear he had honed in on the military. She knew the cogs were working in his brain if he could get more information out of her, her fiancé worked with the American military, the biggest competition for his Russian military. He didn’t dwell on it though, not yet anyway, Emma had a feeling it would come back up later.

“What brought you into this club of all places?” Mikhail asked as a sultry singer began singing, her glittery dress sending the lights about her like a mirror ball. “It’s not very well known,” he lied. It was one of the top spots in Kiev if you were looking for a quieter scene with live music, and some shady dealings.

“Is it not?” Emma feigned as she turned to face him better and she felt his fingertips graze the top of her bare back, his legs spreading out in a more relaxed state as if trying to touch her bare skin there as well. “It was hard to even get in, I had to have my assistant send a special request,” she stated which wasn’t exactly a lie, it was just Laswell wasn’t her assistant by any means. “I wanted to see for myself if it lived up to the jazz bars back home in Louisiana,” she smiled.

“I rented it out,” Mikhail said casually as someone walked toward the table to talk to him but he waved them away. It was yet another show of his money and power to rent this club out. “Which is why it was hard to get in. I like to conduct my business here sometimes but I don’t want prying eyes,” he grinned. His fingers were still tracing lightly over her upper back before sliding up under her hairline to graze her neck but his eyes were back on the band playing, specifically the singer.

“Did you rent her too?” Emma asked as she looked at the singer on the stage, her ample figure filled out her dress in all the right places.

“I have no need to rent women,” Mikhail said after a moment cutting his eyes back to Emma. His hand moved to tug lightly at one of the curls at the nape of her neck so it forced Emma’s head back gently. “Especially when I have a beautiful one sitting right here with me. One that I think needs a little attention since her fiancé mistreats her so, always too busy working,” he smirked and let go of her hair but still kept his hand on her.

Emma gasped a bit at his sheer boldness but she played it off, acting as if the hair tug itself was what she was pleasurably gasping at. “I believe you are misreading the situation here,” Emma teased as she sipped her drink to draw out time. “I am merely here to enjoy the music,” she smirked behind the glass, “and company.” In her quick glance around she spotted Soap again, his eyes were narrowed and he was holding his beer so hard his knuckles were white, if he gripped much harder Emma was certain the glass would break.

“Am I?” Mikhail asked as he slid his hand to the side of her throat, his thumb pressing down lightly on her pulse causing Emma to swallow. Her eyes darted to the side to see Gaz in the shadows talking rapidly into his microphone, obviously communicating with Alex or the rest of the group there. Crane had also reappeared, walking close enough to their table that one of Mikhail’s men stepped forward to run him off, to which Crane held his hands up innocently and went to the bar.

Emma lowered her glass down to the table and gently grabbed Mikhail’s wrist to pull it off her neck. “You’re making my bodyguard nervous,” she laughed, covering up her nerves before nodding her head in Gaz’s direction. He indeed did not look happy about the situation, his shoulders tense as he stood and stared blatantly. “He doesn’t like when people touch me,” she explained and lowered Mikhail’s hand down from her throat into his lap. She moved to pull her hand away, but he flipped his hand and grabbed her wrist pulling her forward a bit so she was leaning into him.

“No?” Mikhail asked as his thumb rubbed along her wrist before he slid his hand up her arm and brushed away some hair on her back. “Then how did you get these bruises lisichka, was he not doing his job properly?” He touched the mark Soap had left where her neck met her shoulder, one Emma opted to not cover-up. It had been a dark hickey a few days ago but now it had faded to a faint yellow blemish.

“What I do in the bedroom is none of his concern,” Emma answered, her voice a bit breathless as his thumb swiped at the spot again. “His job is just to make sure I don’t get hurt or make a scene in public. Need to keep up the family appearances and all that,” her grin was a bit devilish as she downed the rest of her drink in one go. She needed something to stop the nerves that were beginning to make her hands shake.

“Then let’s go somewhere private,” Mikhail said after a moment and waved over one of his men. They conversed in Russian for a moment and Emma took that chance to find her companions, her eyes wide in a silent plead for someone to come get her. Soap was already on his way, his hand moving into his pocket as if to grab something. Crane quickly intercepted him with a chest bump, his hand going to his shoulder to hold him back. They exchanged some hard words and Emma was certain Soap was going to deck him before he stood down. She was glad this was happening behind them because if Mikhail had seen it there would have been too many questions.

“Come,” Mikhail said as he moved out from the table. It wasn’t a request, it was an order and Emma hesitated as he curled his fingers toward his palms twice, impatient.

Emma froze, her eyes darting over to Gaz who was already walking over but Mikhail’s man intercepted him, clearly by Mikhail’s orders. Gaz halted and he rolled his neck, the irritation in his body language palpable but he couldn’t disobey an order and risk blowing their cover.

“I can’t stay for long,” Emma said blithely as she slid out of the seat, “my companions will get antsy, they are my fiancé's lapdogs.” Despite the fear, she took Mikhail’s hand. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this, Mikhail’s men were all over the club and she could see a few of them watching. None of them could make a scene now because she was effectively trapped.

“Your companions will find something else to do to occupy their time,” Mikhail mused as his hand rested on her lower back to push her along toward the stairs. They walked right past Crane who had been accosted by a woman and he stared at them for a brief second before darting his eyes over to Soap.

“Emma, don’t,” Alex suddenly cut in but Emma didn’t respond, what choice did she have? “Emma. We don’t have eyes up there and I won’t know what is going on. Duck out, come up with a stupid excuse and we’ll recoup.” Still, Emma didn’t answer or stop walking. “If you go up those goddamn stairs Soap is going to murder him and we’ll all be fucked.”

She knew Alex was right but she climbed each step anyway, not wanting to risk what would happen if she bolted. Mikhail was multiple drinks deep and he stumbled a bit as they cleared the landing using a keycard to open the door. Emma set her drink down on the wide railing, opting to leave it behind before she muddled her own mind too much. She wasn’t planning on doing a single thing with the man but she could tease him into oblivion and keep plying him with drinks. If she played her cards right maybe she could just get him to pass out and she could run out the door.

Slipping inside Emma shut the door behind her to find the room was a small office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the club below, the music pumped in over some hidden speakers. There was a couch by the window and she slowly walked over to it as Mikhail did something at the desk, her fingers walking along the back of it as she watched the floor below. She couldn’t see too much but people were milling about and she thought she spotted Soap’s stocky figure heading toward the kitchens.

“Emma, talk to me. What is happening?” Alex came over the earpiece, though it sounded a bit garbled. “You have got to give me something, I’ve barely got the reigns back on the guys downstairs”

She opened her mouth to answer Alex, pretending to talk to Mikhail about what the office looked like when Mikhail suddenly came up behind her. His hand was on her neck as he forcefully pushed her forward over the couch causing Emma to shriek and throw her hands out to catch herself on the cushions to stop herself from toppling all the way over. “What are you doing?” Emma demanded as she pushed back against him and he pinned her hips against the couch with his own. “Get your hands off of me.”

“Emma what the fuck is happening,” Alex cut in again, his voice panicked and she could hear him cut over to another microphone to talk to Gaz but the voice was distant and garbled.

“I should ask you the same question. Who are your friends?” Mikhail stated as one hand slid over her body, patting her down as if he were looking for something. Shit, he was suspicious. He kept his hand on her lower back as he bent down to feel up and down her legs, his fingers pausing on the garters to search for any weapons strapped there.

“Satisfied?” Emma spat when he didn’t find anything and he finally let her go to stand up fully. “My friends? You mean my fiancés spies and my bodyguard?” Her heart was pounding, not only from the rough handling from him but the fact he was implying he didn’t trust their cover. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she started but Mikhail grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back hard so she was staring up at his face, “let go of me.”

“You truly have no idea who I am do you?” Mikhail asked, the seductive flirtatious voice from downstairs was gone. This was pure lethal loathing, “typical idiotic American,” he spat as he shoved her hard away from him causing her to stumble over her heels. He moved to a drink cart by the door poured another drink for himself and downed the two fingers of whiskey in one go before making another one, his body swaying a bit. “I know your friends aren’t who they say they are. I recognized one of them as soon as they walked in.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Emma said as she moved toward the door, preparing to wrench it open and leave, but the handle didn’t budge as she jiggled it. She looked for a lock and didn’t spot it and Mikhail just laughed at her feeble attempt. Apparently, you needed to badge in and badge out and he had the key card. “I’d like to leave,” she stated, for both Mikhail and Alex to hear, “now.”

“No,” Mikhail said simply and set his glass down with a rattle on the cart.

“No?” Emma answered with a small laugh, sounding much braver than she felt as he stalked toward her. “You are mistaken, I wasn’t asking.”

“I’m trying to hack the system. We need to cut the power,” Alex’s frantic voice came through, but once again his voice was garbled and cutting in and out. “They’ve got,” it cut out before it came back, “intricate,” then it was quiet again.

“You practically threw yourself at me. It was a weak distraction but I let it go on because I wanted to know what you were trying to get out of me,” Mikahil stated as he backed her up into the door with his body and grabbed her jaw hard, “you have to be careful what you are willing to do lisichka, not all of us are gentlemen.” He laughed and spun her around against the door so her chest was pressed against it as his hands slid down to pull at her dress hem and yank it up over her backside.

Emma shrieked as she fought back against him, pleading in her mind for Alex to finish whatever he was doing so she could get out. The sounds from downstairs were getting louder, she could hear it through the door that her ear was pressed against and in the background of the music coming over the speakers. Thrashing a bit, she attempted to stamp on his foot but he knocked her foot away and wedged his knee between her legs to keep her still. “When my fiancé finds out what you’ve done,” Emma threatened. While she didn’t have a fiancé she knew that Soap would rip his throat out for what this man was attempting to do. “You won’t live long enough to regret it,” she finished, before driving her elbow back to knock him in the ribs. That hit had found purchase.

Mikhail doubled back, his grip on her loosened as he snarled a curse word at her. Emma quickly turned around and ducked as he made another grab at her, all the alcohol in his system made him sluggish. Pushing up off the door Emma grabbed at the discarded glass on the drink cart and threw it as hard as she could at his head. It hit its intended target causing his head to snap to the side before the glass fell to the floor with a shatter, glass pieces scattering everywhere. She needed to get to her clutch, she had a knife in there but Mikhail had kicked it away when he pinned her against the door. Diving for it on the ground she grabbed it but Mikhail was back on her, his hand ripping hard at her hair to drag her backwards. She felt the glass cutting into her legs as she scrambled and screamed at the pain in her head as he continued to pull.

“Sleeper!” There was a loud shout on the other side of the door followed by what sounded like a kick. Then another kick and the door shuttered on its hinges. Emma knew it was Soap, he had thrown all caution to the wind and had come for her.

“Who’s Sleeper?’ Mikhail snarled, a smirk on his lips as he finally let go of Emma’s hair and flung her toward the ground. Her palms shot out to catch herself and she felt the glass bite into the skin. “Are you a fucking agent?” He asked as he made his way over to the desk and pulled open a drawer, rustling around for a bit before Emma heard the telltale sound of a gun being loaded.

“Soap he’s got a gun,” Emma yelled out right as the power cut. Screams erupted all around the club followed by gunfire which made Emma flinch, thinking Mikhail had shot off his gun only to realize it was coming from downstairs.

“Emma stay low to the ground and get to the door,” Alex’s voice came in, clearer than he had before now that the power was out. “Soap is there, Gaz went to get the car and Crane is keeping Mikhail’s men occupied.” So that had been the gunfire.

The door banged open on its hinges on another one of Soap’s kicks, the frame splintering and wood joined the glass scattered on the floor. Ducking Emma quickly crawled toward it, toward Soap’s shadowed outline from the emergency lights that had kicked on. Soap stepped into the room and she reached for him, her fingers finding his slacks as he extended a hand down to pull her up. Her knees and hands were screaming at the glass and cuts on her skin and she could feel the blood running down her legs.

As Emma moved toward the door so had Mikhail and this time the gunfire was in the room which made Emma scream as three shots went off, it sounded like they were right by her head. That was all it took. Soap let go and stepped around her, shoving her behind him and out the door, and went right for Mikhail now that he had given away his position. There was a scuffle and Emma crouched her hands holding onto the shattered doorframe to try and see what was happening. She heard grunts and thuds before the sound of the gun hitting the tile floor met her ears followed by a sickening crack of someone’s head on the tile.

“Soap?” Emma hissed as she moved to stand up and see, her whole body shaking from fear. A shadow in the dark room moved toward her and she flinched until it stepped into the dim emergency light to reveal it was Soap. “Oh my God,” she breathed out in relief and reached for him, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt.

“I’ve got her Alex,” Soap said into his microphone as he pulled Emma tight against his chest. “Tell me Gaz is ready.” He pressed a hard kiss to the top of her head as he listened to Alex talk in his ear before releasing her. “We’ve got to go lass,” he breathed, “Gaz has the car and it’s only a matter of time before the lights come on.”

Emma nodded and followed Soap to the stairs, having to squint to try and see, her free hand going out to the stair railings to steady her as she held onto Soap’s hand. They were down the steps quickly and practically ran out the front door into the full-on snowstorm that had kicked up outside. The bouncer that was there before was gone and Emma saw drops of blood in the snow that led down toward the alleyway.

“Get in,” Soap instructed as he pushed her toward the car they had come in. Gaz was in the front seat, both hands on the steering wheel though one hand also held a pistol. “We have to go right now before they catch up,” he said as Emma wrenched open the door and climbed in. Inside she found Crane already sitting there and gasped at the sight of him. He had blood on his shirt, face, and hands as he dug around in a duffle bag at his feet pulling out pieces of a gun and screwing it together.

“Go Gaz!” Soap yelled as he slammed the door shut behind him and looked out the back window. Emma stared at him as he discharged the magazine from the pistol and checked the amount of ammo he had before he shoved it back in again and chambered a shot. “We were fucked before we even sat down,” Soap cursed as he looked out the back window once again, “Alex said he heard Mikhail tell you he recognized one of us.”

Emma nodded, “yes but he didn’t say who. He said he wanted to see what our play was. He searched me for weapons or a radio when he got me upstairs.” Emma hissed as she bent down to pull some glass out of her shin, her fingers shaking as she dropped the bloody piece into the cupholder. “Where are we going? Back to the safe house?” Emma asked as the car took a sharp turn causing her to topple to the side.

“Can’t,” Gaz answered, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror every few seconds before back to the road, “we’ve got a tail and we can’t trust the valet didn’t plant something on the car.” He swerved down another road, the back tires fishtailing out in the snow before Gaz got control again and pressed his foot to the pedal hard.

“Still on us,” Crane said as he finished assembling the gun and turned to look toward the window.

“I fucking know,” Gaz snapped as he took a speed bump fast, causing them all to rattle around in the backseat, Emma’s teeth clicking together hard. She had her hand pressed against the large cut in her knee before Crane leaned over and handed her a rag out of the gun duffle to press against it. “Hold on,” Gaz called before he hit the brakes hard and turned the wheel to the right to spin them into a u-turn using the slick road to their advantage. He hit the gas again and flew past the car that had been behind them and turned down another road.

“Get Price on the phone and find out what he wants us to do,” Gaz yelled as he threw a phone over his shoulder and aimed for a tunnel, cutting the lights on the car as he did so before slamming on the breaks to hold their spot. “We need to ditch this car and find a place to hold up for a few hours,” he kept his eyes on the road as Crane dialed Price.

“Duck down,” Soap said suddenly and they all crouched down as headlights swept past them before it turned dark inside the car again.

Crane was talking quietly with Price, his eyes level with the back window as he watched the car that went by circle back once again. “He said to find a place to stay for the night, that Emma had plenty of cash on her to get rooms,” he looked at Emma who just nodded. “Ditch the car in a well-lit parking lot so they find it and stay off the radios. It’s too much of a risk using them long-range, they could tap them now that they know. He wants us to stay in groups of two in case they come back we’ll be harder to corner.”

Soap nodded before he looked at Emma who was digging in her clutch for money, “they’re going to question when they see us walk into a hotel looking like this,” Emma breathed as she indicated to herself all cut up then at Crane who was covered in blood himself. “How are we going to get around that?” She pulled out a wad of cash and moved to start counting it up before realizing she had no idea what the denominations were.

“We’re not going to be staying at a five-star hotel,” Soap answered as he snatched the phone from Crane and started looking up hotels close by. “I can go in for us,” he stated as he scrolled, he looked the least bloodied of the four of them, “you pay cash and give them a good tip no one will ask any questions.” He found a place and leaned forward tapping Gaz on the arm to take the phone for the directions. Gaz took the phone and quickly pulled out of the tunnel and headed back down the way they came, taking side roads and doubling back a few times.

“Take this,” Crane said as he handed Emma a pistol from the duffel and then tossed her an extra magazine clip as well. Emma checked the gun before stuffing it into her clutch, it was too big to close the flap on the small purse but it was concealed enough, she had nowhere else to put it otherwise.

A few minutes later they pulled up outside of a hotel, which more or less looked like something you’d see when the characters were in a shady part of town in a movie. There were no streetlamps outside, the windows were dingy and the light coming from the inside was a dim yellow. Soap quickly climbed out and went inside to book rooms as the rest of them sat inside in silence waiting for him to return. Emma was constantly looking out all the windows like Crane and Gaz but no one was out in the snow, not a single car came up the street.

When Soap wrenched open the door again Emma jumped, the blast of cold air sent snow swirling into the backseat. “Here,” he handed Crane a key before extending his hand out to Emma, “guy said there’s a grocer about two blocks away. Shouldn’t be too long of a walk for you two, your room is on the second floor facing the back. We’re on the third facing the front, wanted to make sure we’ve got eyes on the whole place.”

“So what we are going to do? Just wait out the night and have Price pick us up in the morning?” Emma ventured looking between Crane and Gaz, the latter merely shrugged.

“He’ll reach out when he’s got a plan,” Crane said, “he’s probably got Alex pulling cameras all over the city to try and track them down and see what they are doing. Or he set Ghost on them,” he grinned a bit, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

At that, Emma climbed out into the freezing air and carefully walked with Soap, heels in the snow were not the best combination and she had to lean into him heavily to get inside the front door. The hotel itself seemed like some mom-and-pop place that may have been a family house at one point. It was run down inside and there wasn’t even an elevator to get up to the upper floors. She glanced down at her legs in the light and saw they were streaked with blood under her ripped hose and Soap quickly tilted her head back up to watch where they were walking. If she stared at herself, others would as well.

“Lots of stairs,” Soap stated as he helped her up the steps, his eyes watching her as she gingerly took each step. “Sorry,” he added as he watched her struggle a bit climbing the steps, “it’s just a better vantage point.”

“I’m fine,” Emma breathed as they cleared the third story and turned toward a room at the end of the hallway that faced out the front of the hotel. When Soap opened the door Emma looked inside to see a basic room with a large bed in the center a small dresser in the corner and a bathroom off to the side. She moved to flip on the light but Soap stopped her, covering her hand with his own. He deposited her down on the bed before going to the window and peering out of the sheer curtains.

“Leave the light off for now, and take out your earpiece and mic. Flip them off,” Soap stated as he looked up and down the street, removing his audio equipment and setting them on the window pane. “It’s late and we don’t want to draw any attention as the only room on the street with a light on,” He further explained his first instruction as he kept his watch at the window.

Emma quickly removed the earpiece and microphone from her bra strap, triple-checking they were off before bending down and removing her shoes. She sighed in relief as she freed her feet before she threw the heels toward the door before moving to unclip her garters. She hissed as she slid the torn-up hose down her legs and Soap abruptly turned around at the sound to look at her.

“Shit, sorry I should have…” he cut himself off as he went right to the bathroom. Emma heard running water and a moment later Soap returned with a wet washcloth and some other dry towels. “How did this even happen?” He asked as he knelt down to gently wipe at her legs. Just the soft touch was enough to make Emma hiss again and she grab at the sheets, but Soap didn’t stop cleaning her up.

“I threw a glass at his head,” Emma replied, trying not to smile at how ridiculous it sounded, “it hit him then shattered everywhere. He wasn’t a fan of that so he dragged me through it by my hair,” she explained and felt Soap tense up at that. “I’m fine,” she stated after a beat of silence, “I mean I’m cut but I’m fine. I’m not dying.”

“You never should have been alone with him,” Soap stated quietly, his fingers gently holding up the back of her knee as Emma’s legs shook a bit. “Alex said you ignored him when he told you to call it,” he snapped his eyes up to her, a demanding look on his face, “why did you ignore a direct order?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Emma asked, “run? I wouldn’t have gotten very far with all of his people around me,” she stated, “you certainly couldn’t have done anything. They probably would have just shot you right in the middle of the club.”

“You’re underestimating what I can do,” Soap answered simply, his hand moving to her other leg where the deeper cut was. Emma cursed as the wet washcloth hit that cut and Soap finally hesitated with his cleaning to give her a moment to breathe before going back to it. “We could have gotten you out of there before he was able to get his hands on you.”

“I wasn’t going to put any of you at risk,” Emma answered back as Soap held his hand out for her hands now. She leaned forward and gently gave them to him, her eyes watching his as he worked over the raw skin on her palms. “I got out, didn’t I? We’ll call that enough of a win,” she reasoned.

“When I heard you scream in there,” Soap started before he cut his eyes up to her, “and I couldn’t get to you,” he swallowed for a moment as if temping down his anger. “Don’t ever do something like that again,” he finally stated.

“It’s part of the job, Johnny,” Emma reasoned with him, knowing full well she was throwing his own words to her back in his face.

“Don’t,” Soap said as he tossed the wet red-tinged washcloth onto the nightstand. “It is not part of your job; your job is to patch us up. My job is to keep you safe and dispatch the threats,” he stated as he dried her hands off and then let go of them to stand up again to tower over her. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“I’m okay,” Emma reasoned again as she stood up, ignoring the tinge of pain in her legs. “I have minor injuries that will heal in a couple of days, that is nothing compared to what could have happened. He had a damn gun Johnny, and you walked in there like it was nothing.”

“Because it was nothing,” Soap said as he produced the pistol he had taken from Mikhail from the back of his pants and set it down on the nightstand next to the washcloth. “I’m trained for that, I am trained to disarm, to overpower, to kill. This was another fucking ambush and we just waltzed you right into the middle of it.” He huffed, disgusted with the whole situation, and went back over to the window to look out, leaving Emma standing there staring at his back.

“Johnny,” Emma stated after a moment, walking over to him and gently placing her hand on his back to get his attention. He didn’t turn from the window though, his eyes locked on the area outside, scanning the snow swirled air and buildings around them. He was looking for threats, for anything that could possibly come for them. “We’re okay, we got out and we shook off our tail,” Emma stated as she pulled a bit on his shoulder to try and get him to look at her.

“We thought were okay when Alex got shot, we thought we were okay when we walked into that club, I’m not taking any more chances Emma,” Soap said when he finally moved to look at her. “Please just let me do this okay?” He sounded defeated and Emma sighed as she reached up her hand to his cheek and pulled him down for a quick kiss. He didn’t fight her on it and he returned it softly, his hands moving to grab her waist before he rested his forehead on hers. “You should rest, I’d suggest a shower but I doubt they have any hot water and it’s already freezing in here,” he stated as his thumb came up to brush over her cheek. “I’ll take the watch.” He jerked his head toward the bed.

Emma nodded as she gently pulled away from him before turning and giving him her back, sweeping her hair off her shoulder. “Can you just get the zipper?” She asked and peered over her shoulder at him, he was already staring out the window, probably looking for Crane and Gaz to get back so he knew they were safe. He blinked as if pulled from a deep thought before abruptly reaching up to slide the zipper down her back before popping the clasp of her necklace as well. Emma debated on teasing him a bit but he was so locked in what was happening outside she opted not to. Instead, she stepped away and slipped out of the dress, tossing it onto the small dresser, and made her way toward the bed.

Standing in the cold barren room in such nice undergarments felt so out of place as she tugged on the quilt and multiple other covers to get down to the sheets. The room was freezing but the hotel had provided them with an ample number of blankets and tucked them in so damn tight she had to wrench all of them free.

“They’re back,” Soap said suddenly which caused Emma to stop moving, “Crane and Gaz,” he clarified. For a split second, she thought it had been the people chasing them and they had found the hotel they were in somehow. “They must have hoofed it,” Soap stated before he turned from the window and spotted Emma still in her lingerie wrestling with the bed. “Fucking hell,” he breathed as he looked at her bent over at the waist untucking the top sheet. The underwear was a poor excuse for a thong and left nothing to his imagination. “Get into bed Emma,” Soap demanded after a moment, flexing his hand a bit before fisting it again.

“What?’ Emma asked as she stood up and faced him to find him leaning up against the window openly staring at her. A thrill of excitement went through her at the look and command, her eyes darting down to his hand before back to his face. “I was working on it when you interrupted me,” she explained before sitting down quickly and sliding her legs in, a smirk on her face. “Better?”

“Not really,” Soap answered before he turned to look out the window again, “but it’ll do.” He pulled the curtain back with his fingers to look down the street again. Even from the bed, Emma could see how heavy the snow was coming down outside now, the wind was howling and causing the glass panes to shake. “I can’t see shit,” he grumbled, pressing his head closer to the glass to look down the street.

“If you can’t see anything, neither can anyone else,” Emma reasoned as she shimmied down further into the sheets and pulled them up to her chin. “Come lay down for a bit,” she prompted before flipping a corner of the quilt up for his side. “I’m frozen,” Emma added, which wasn’t a lie, she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from rattling, the bed hadn’t warmed up yet and the stiff sheets were cold.

“If I get in that bed with you, I am not getting out of it,” Soap muttered but he had begun to undo the buttons on his shirt and untucked it from his belt. “And I can’t risk missing anything,” he stated as he shrugged off the shirt to reveal the white undershirt below. It was too tight on him, the shirt looked as if he were to move wrong it would split at the seams and as he bent down to undo his shoes Emma watched his back flex under the material.

“Crane and Gaz are here,” Emma tried reasoning, “they aren’t going to let anyone in. We lost our tail a while ago, they ditched the car and it’s a blizzard outside. It would be a waste of their resources, and a risk, to send anyone out to try and find us.” She swallowed as Soap moved to the dresser yanked the belt out of his belt loops in one swift motion and tossed it on top of her dress sitting there.

“I hate this fucking dress,” he muttered as he laid his button-down shirt atop everything as well. “As soon as Mikhail looked at you bent over at the bar and licked his lips, I wanted to burn the damn thing,” he explained before he yanked the undershirt over his head and began work on his pant button and zipper. “I hated watching him touch you, how he acted like you were something he could even have. Alex was in my ear all night talking me off the ledge,” he looked over his shoulder at Emma before grabbing the whole dresser itself and sliding it in front of the door. It was loud as it scraped against the floor and Soap grunted a bit at the weight; it was solid oak. Someone would be able to get in the door if they really tried but that would at least slow them down a bit.

“I didn’t enjoy it myself,” Emma agreed as Soap slipped out of his pants and walked over to the bed now. He paused at the edge staring down a her, as if battling with his last bit of resolve, knowing that he could just walk away now but if he sat down, it was over. “I wanted it to be your hands, all I could think about was I wished it were you,” Emma breathed as she lifted the sheets to push him to join her, knowing it was revealing her upper body to him, to the lace that stood stark against her skin. He swallowed hard looking over her before his eyes met hers “Please?” She asked quietly.

Soap gave in at her please. He sat down and slipped into the bed next to Emma before reaching out and pulling her tight against him. Her skin was freezing against his and he rubbed his hands up and down her arm and her back to generate some heat. She twined her legs into his and pressed her head against his chest as he continued his ministrations, his hands moving down over her backside and thigh before he hitched one of her legs over his hip to pull her closer. He felt her breath catch at the movement and he grinned leaning down to kiss the top of her head before tilting her head up to look at him, his fingers under her chin. “Something the matter?” He asked teasingly.

“Nothing,” Emma answered back, her fingers moving to wrap around his back, to which he flinched since they were like icicles. “I just seem to remember a certain promise you made me just a few hours ago,” she wriggled her hips against his and watched as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Something about peeling my lacey undergarments off when you got me alone.”

“Aye, well, things have changed in a few hours,” Soap reasoned as he danced his fingers down her leg and back up. “A few hours ago we were planning on being back in the safe house and not in this place after getting chased,” he grabbed her hip and pulled her tight against him. He let out a soft groan at the pressure he created. “And you weren’t injured.”

“It’s a few cuts!” Emma admonished before rolling her hips against him, “you had broken ribs and came into my room to seduce me in the middle of the night. I think I’ll be just fine,” she huffed as Soap grabbed the back of her hair gently and tilted her head even further back so her lips parted slightly as she looked at him. “Plus, we are alone so we won’t have to be as…quiet,” she grinned and that was all it took. Soap leaned down at captured her lips in a crushing kiss, his hand gripping the back of her head as his tongue swept in.

Emma reached down and pushed at his boxers, her fingers still a bit numb as she scrabbled at the material before Soap helped her, pushing them down to get lost at the foot of the bed. He was already growing hard and she gripped him gently with one hand and pumped, causing him to arch his hips up to her. She repeated the movement for a bit, her thumb teasing his head slowly and she felt precum gather and smear. Her hands were aching at the movement, the skin still tender from all their cuts, and she gently let go before moving to inch down him, rustling a bit under the sheets.

“Lass, you do this and I am not going to be able to,” Soap muttered, his words trailing off, as she pushed on his hip to get him to lay back. He moved easily with her before shifting up a bit in the bed so his back was up against the headboard to give her more room. He was grinning from ear to ear as Emma maneuvered her way between his legs, slowly so as not to irritate her raw legs. Once she was settled she gripped him again and leaned down to run her tongue from base to tip on him. Soap’s hands gripped the sheets as his head slammed back onto the headboard, letting out a loud groan as Emma slipped her mouth around him before he lifted his head back up again to watch her.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he reached his hand out to push her hair out of her face to see her better, his fingers winding it up and away. He took a few steadying breaths and Emma began to move on him, her eyes looking down before Soap tugged slightly to catch her attention “eyes on me,” he ordered.

Emma felt another thrill straight to her core at the order before she instantly flicked her gaze up to him. He grinned at her following his direction before he gently pushed at the back of her head as a silent command to continue. Emma did as was asked, bobbing her head over him as she worked herself up to relax her tongue and throat before sliding down him fully, feeling him nearly suffocate her before going back up. Soap let a strangled noise out of his throat at that action and Emma repeated it, settling all the way down and nearly gagging before coming back up again and pulling off of him to take a breath, grinning a bit as she swirled her tongue over the tip.

“You like this don’t you?” Soap inquired and Emma merely nodded as she stroked him again, the pain in her hands forgotten. “And you like me telling you what to do,” he stated, it wasn’t a question. It was a fact. He had seen the way she had reacted to him just now, in the warehouse and even in other situations that weren’t purely sexual. She followed anything he told her without hesitation and seemed glad to do it. “But you’ll tell me if you don’t want to,” he stated as Emma squirmed a bit under the sheets, he knew she had to be on fire and dying to be touched. But she nodded her agreement and Soap gripped her hair a little tighter. “Well then, I wasn’t done,” he said as he moved her head back over him again and pushed her head down, groaning as she took him fully to the base again.

Using his hand in her hair he moved her head at the pace he wanted, moving her faster and harder, groaning as she gagged around him the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout his whole body. He was panting as he watched her with tears in her eyes as she kept up the pace without complaint before he pulled her off him fully and dragged her up his body to kiss him. It was a sloppy one as she caught her breath and Soap wiped the smeared makeup away from her eyes as he looked up at her, adoration on his face.

“My turn,” he stated before he gently pushed her off of him so she was on her back on the bed. Emma was grinning ear to ear as Soap rose over her before he roughly grabbed her hips and flipped her over onto her stomach. She let out a shriek at the movement but didn’t fight it as he grabbed her hips and lifted them up and back toward him where he was knelt and she pushed up onto her hands. Emma felt exposed as she looked over her shoulder at him taking in the view and she bit her lip willing herself to not feel embarrassed.

“These are such a poor excuse for undergarments,” he tsked before his hands grabbed the lace of her thong and tore at it easily, the straps over her hips ripping and falling to the side. He balled up the material in one hand and threw it across the room. Emma gasped as his knee wedged her legs apart a bit before his hand moved to cup her, her head dropping down as his fingers slid along her entrance but pausing before he made it to her clit. “You’re always ready for me aren’t you?” Soap nearly groaned as he ran his finger through the slickness.

“Always Johnny,” Emma gasped out as he finally found her clit and he rubbed small circles. She rolled her hips against him but he quickly grabbed her with his other hand and held her still. She whined a bit but he merely chuckled before running his hand up her spine and pushed on her upper back so she dropped down to her elbows. If she felt exposed before it was nothing like she felt now and she could feel a blush creeping up her face as she hid her face.

“None of that,” Soap said, picking up on her tell of how she always hid her face when she was feeling embarrassed. He adjusted to bend his body over hers to push some of her hair off her face and press a kiss between her shoulder blades. His finger was still making slow antagonizing circles over her clit and Emma fought to not move her hips as he had ordered. “You’re beautiful,” he complimented as he kissed a little further down her back, “I never want you to hide yourself from me.” With his free hand, he undid the clasp of her bra, letting the material fall away as he kissed along her spine. He planted another kiss on the small dimple of her back as he kept moving down, shifting his body weight. Emma nearly hummed in anticipation before he gave her what she was looking for.

His mouth was on her in an instant and Emma nearly fell into the pillows at the feel, her body shaking on her elbows. He had grabbed her hips with both of his hands now, his fingers giving up on their prior ministrations, and pulled her back into him as she arched herself to give him better access. His tongue swept through her slowly, teasingly, as she moaned out his name before he plunged his tongue into her without warning. She wanted to move her body so badly on him but he held her fast, taking control of the situation himself as he taunted her with his mouth, one hand on her hip slipping under to her clit again to give her the friction she was desperate for. He continued his slow torture of sliding his tongue in and out, his fingers working her up into a frenzy.

“Fuck Johnny,” Emma gasped out as he finally yanked on her hips giving her permission to move again. Without thinking she began to rock her hips into his hand and against his face, needing more of him, needing that release. He was taunting her right up to the edge and she was going to scream with frustration if he didn’t give it to her. “Please,” she begged, actually begged, her voice nothing more than a whimper.

Soap chuckled at that, his breath vibrating against her before he pulled back and licked a stripe straight up her center, over her asshole, and then bit into the soft skin of her ass gently. She certainly wasn’t expecting that and Emma hitched her hips forward a bit at the new sensation. “Did you not like that?” Soap asked, as he pulled her hips back toward him again and slid two fingers into her without warning, or resistance, his head resting on her ass to watch himself work and admire how his fingers glistened on each pull out.

Emma groaned and dropped her head into her forearms, biting her lip to keep from being too loud since the walls in this place had proven how thin they were with how cold it was. “I did,” she breathed finally as his fingers pumped, curling into her at just the right angle, ”I’ve just never,” Emma groaned again as he picked up the pace with his fingers in her.

Soap just nodded as he pushed her toward the edge, his teeth grazing along her skin before he bit down. His mouth was dangerously close to her hole again but he didn’t move, waiting to see what she did, before Emma arched up to him in silent permission and curiosity. Not needing to be told twice Soap’s tongue darted out graze over her hole, gently lapping and pushing against it before Emma shattered around his fingers in a stream of moans and curses a minute later.

He continued to move his fingers so she could ride through the high, his tongue probing ever so slightly into her before finally pulling back as he felt her body shaking to hold herself up. Emma felt him move away, felt the bed adjust as he rose onto his knees behind her and grabbed her hips with both hands to pull her right onto him with one swift jerk. She collapsed forward on her chest, her arms fully giving out for a moment as he slid home and she pushed her hands against the headboard as he began to thrust, her cheek resting on the bed.

“Fucking hell,” Soap groaned out as his hands moved her on him, his fingers digging hard into her ass as the sound of slapping skin filled the room. “Fuck you feel good Emma,” he continued, “so good for me,” his praises were like lightning along her body and Emma shifted to look back at him to find his eyes were locked on her face. He continued to thrust into her, his arms flexing as he moved her just how he wanted and Emma saw the sweat break out over his face. “You like watching me don’t you?” He inquired after a moment and Emma nodded, biting her lip.

A feral smirk came across his lips as he bent down a bit and slid his hands along her ribs before grabbing at her shoulders to pull her up, up and back toward him so she was kneeling, her back pressed against his chest as he held her there. This angle was hitting a different spot and Emma reached one of her hands around to grab the back of his head to pull him tight against her. She moaned as his teeth sunk into the soft spot at her neck and shoulder. Both of their bodies were slick as they moved against one another and Soap’s hands were all over her as her breath started to become ragged, another climax threatening to take hold of her.

“That’s it,” Soap muttered as he himself was losing the ability to talk, “fuck I need you to come for me,” his voice was strangled as his fingers found her clit again and began to rub furiously, his other hand on her breast holding her tight against him. “Now Emma before I do,” he demanded as his hips snapped into her, his climax right there. He wasn’t going to finish first though, he was determined she would and at the command, Emma felt herself come undone for the second time. Her hands were scrambling for purchase behind her to hold onto Soap to keep herself up but Soap’s arms held fast so she wouldn’t fall forward.

“Fuck,” Soap moaned out into Emma’s ear as he felt her clamp down on him and he reached his release, spilling into her as he rode her through it. He continued to move until Emma’s head tipped forward onto her chest and he could feel her shift her body weight fully into his hands, unable to keep herself upright any longer. Gently he slipped out of her and helped her lay onto the bed before moving to lay next to her. She was face down with her cheek pressed on the pillow and Soap propped himself up on one arm and drew lazy circles on her back with his other hand. “You alright?” He teased, knowing full well she was perfectly fine, just so thoroughly fucked she was exhausted.

“I feel boneless,” Emma answered as she took a deep breath through her nose and pushed some sweaty hair off her face. “I’ve never done that,” she gestured vaguely, “position and other…thing before. I didn’t even know you could hit those spots,” she laughed a bit and turned to hide her face in the pillow for a brief second trying not to be embarrassed by her lack of experience compared to him. She certainly was not a naïve woman but she had always been with men who seemed to just want to get themselves off and certainly never tried anything new.

“Never? Lass, you have been sorely mistreated then,” he grinned and leaned over to kiss her gently on the lips, “good thing I’m here now.” He smirked to himself, glad to know that he would be the first for a few things with her. He wasn’t someone that necessarily ‘got around’ but he had a few partners and was someone that did his research and learned a few tricks.

Emma smiled at his words before yawning a bit, using the back of her hand to cover her mouth to try and hide it. She didn’t want to sleep just yet, she wanted to bask in this moment they had where they weren’t in a rush to leave. The warehouse certainly left no chance for pillow talk and she wasn’t sure when she’d get it again with their current situation.

Soap caught it though and reached out to her. “Come here,” he pulled her gently to him, curling her back against his chest, and reached down to drag the blankets up over them. “I think you should be sufficiently warm now so you can sleep,” he teased as Emma pinched his arm gently before she settled in against him. They lay in relative silence, listening to one another breathe as Soap’s fingers still caressed her arms, dancing them up her bicep then back down to her wrist and up again.

Emma was lulled to sleep by the movement, her hand resting atop one of his as it splayed against her stomach. She felt peaceful, warm, and most importantly protected as she rested against his body. It wasn’t much longer after Emma fell asleep that Soap did as well, though he was still on high alert. Every noise caused him to stir and listen before falling back into a doze, but he never let Emma go even as she rolled over to face him and curl up into his chest. He grinned to himself a bit as she burrowed into him and watched her for a few seconds before she settled again and he fell back asleep.

Some time passed before Emma awoke to the still dark room, blinking a bit as she remembered exactly where she was. After everything in the past two days, it was a bit disorientating waiting for all her memories to catch up with her sleep addled brain. Shifting her head back a bit to look up, she found herself curled into Soap’s chest, one of his arms was locked around her waist the other tucked under the pillow to prop his head up a bit. Not wanting to disturb him she stayed there looking at him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest and how relaxed his face looked in his slumber. She had seen him taking catnaps and he had even passed out on her bed one night when they were reviewing intel but this was different. He looked perfectly at ease and she found herself grinning happily to herself before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Something the matter mo cadalach?” Soap murmured, his voice deep and raspy from sleep, his Scottish accent thick, as he blinked his eyes open and tilted his head down to look at her. “Did I wake you?’ He asked after a moment, his fingers on her back gently moving to draw circles again.

“No, I just woke up on my own,” Emma answered before asking, “what is mo cadalach?” She knew she butchered the words and Soap grinned with his eyes closed again, as if sleep were fighting to take him back under.

“Mo cadalach,” he said a bit slower then sighed happily, “it means ‘my sleeper’, just a little play off your callsign.” He cracked open his eyes again when she didn’t respond to find Emma staring up at him, her face unreadable and he hesitated, “I…can not use it if it bothers you.”

“Say it again,” Emma breathed and that caught Soap’s attention. He opened his eyes fully now to look down at her before repeating it. Emma smiled finally before scooting up his body to kiss him, her leg wrapping around his waist as she cupped his cheek. “I like it,” she kissed him again and pushed her body against him, “I like it a lot.”

“I should have said it sooner then,” he answered before groaning a bit as she pushed her hips against his already hard length. “Keep doing that and you aren’t getting back to sleep,” he muttered before Emma pushed his shoulder so he would lay back on the bed, moving her body to sit on his hips.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she responded as she rose on her knees to grasp him. She was still pleasantly sore between her legs as she rubbed him along her entrance but she wanted more. Watching him sleep peacefully, knowing she had done that for him, hearing him use his nickname for her in his native tongue then his hard length pushing into her side when she woke up had been enough to get her going again. She notched him at her entrance before slowly sinking down, biting her lip at the stretch. She was soaked, a combination of their tangle in the sheets earlier and her need for him now, which allowed him to slip right in.

“Fuck Emma,” Soap ground out as he arched his back a bit, his hands finding her hips as she settled herself down on him fully. He seemed shocked at how easily he was back inside of her and he had to breathe for a moment. “You’re insatiable,” he stated, though it didn’t sound like a complaint. Instead, he used his hands to help her move on him, acutely aware that she was still injured, his fingers digging into her hips as he ground her down on him. The rest of his words were a mix of moans and Scottish words that Emma didn’t know and couldn’t discern anyway.

“Just for you,” Emma said as she threw her head back, her hands planted on his stomach to help hold her balance. She kept this slow and soft as she moved on him, grinding herself down into the perfect spot, and watched his face as she rode him. Soap’s eyes kept darting between her own and down where they connected, a determined sort of concentration gracing his features. Eventually, the burn in her already tired muscles got the best of her and Emma slid her hands up his body before coming to rest on either side of his face bracing herself.

Soap’s arms instantly wrapped around her as he adjusted himself, moving so he could arch his hips up into her as she came down on him. He could feel her arms shaking to hold her weight and he lightly tapped one of her elbows, “lay down. I can take it from here,” he grinned cockily as Emma let her body go to relax on him, her hands finding their way into his hair and gripping. Soap picked up the pace now, his hands back on her ass to pull her down into him.

Emma was a moaning fumbling mess in Soap’s ear as he fucked up into her. Her nails dug into his head and shoulders as she kissed at his jaw and at one point bit him hard enough he cursed and she instantly flinched back afraid she had hurt him. But Soap just turned his head a bit to the side to give her more access to his neck, silent permission to bite him all she wanted, and she did just that before licking the spot. It didn’t take long for her to be close to a climax and she wanted to see him this time so she pushed up on her shaking arms, just enough that her face hovered over his.

“I can feel you’re close,” Soap breathed as he leaned up to give her a few quick and rough kisses, “you’re already so tight but I can feel you start to clench on me as if you don’t want to let me go,” he grinned as Emma slammed her eyes shut moaning at the way he was talking to her. “Look at me,” he said for the second time that night and Emma obediently opened her eyes, “that’s my girl.” He gave her a crooked grin before he picked up a ruthless pace, his hands slamming her down on him before he came right as Emma toppled over the edge again, her arms giving out as she collapsed onto him none too gently. He rolled his hips a few more times before gently sliding out and cradling her body against him, both of them laying in silence enjoying the moment.

Sleep found her faster that time as she curled into Soap’s side, her head resting on his chest listening to his heartbeat as it went from erratic to slow. She didn’t wake again until there was light outside and she stretched her hand out across the bed expecting to find Soap there but it was cold and empty. A jolt of fear caused her to sit up, afraid something had happened in the middle of the night that they were found or he had left to go take care of something. But she found him leaning on the wall by the window looking outside, dressed in his clothes from the night before.

“Storm’s let up,” Soap stated as he looked over at her, smirking at her sleep and sex-mussed hair. “Price checked in; Ghost’ll be here in about an hour to take us back to the safe house.” He pushed up off the wall and moved to sit on the bed next to her, “Alex was able to keep track of the men most of the night. They gave up their search pretty quickly after they found the abandoned car. We’re going to regroup and figure out the next steps, Price’s been in touch with Laswell and has more information.”

“I, right,” Emma said as she looked around for her discarded bra finding it in a heap on the floor. “Have you talked to Crane and Gaz?” She asked as she worked on the clasp behind her back to secure the bra before looking for her underwear and realizing it was torn to shreds like her pantyhose had been. She was going to have to get back in that flimsy dress and it felt so out of place, almost dirty, to even think about putting it on.

“I have, they didn’t see or hear anything last night either, they gave up their watch around one am. Crane said he didn’t get much sleep thanks to Gaz’s snoring though,” he laughed before gently reaching his hand out to pull her in for a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll leave you to get dressed and freshen up, I’m going to see if I can find some coffee.”

Emma watched Soap pull the dresser back to its rightful spot before disappearing out the door, noting the pistol was tucked under his shirt as he went. She did her best to clean up her face, her makeup was everywhere, and finger combed her hair until it was passable. She hoped Price had more information about everything that had happened at the club the night before, especially on how Mikhail had recognized one of them.

She wanted to know who it was Mikhail had known and how he knew them. A feeling of unease settled in her stomach on the thought that maybe there was a mole leaking information to the Russians. She pushed the paranoia aside going with the more logical thought that the Russians also had intelligence agencies and they could spy just as well as anyone else.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Gluten

So I did manage to get enough spoons together to make a late-ish trip to get groceries. I have plans. Many of those plans involve baking. I'm going to do the chocolate mayonnaise cake, I think. Might make another batch of the gingerbread, now that I have a hand mixer and won't kill myself with all the mixing. Definitely going to do some more chocolate chip cookes, and the three ingredient peanut butter cookies, but also pondering ginger snaps and thumbprint cookies (going to try filling those alternately with peanut butter, black cherry jam, and chocolate spread).

Look, I bought a cookie jar and I am going to use it.

Also intending to try the potato candy, and that too will be alternately filled with peanut butter, black cherry jam, and chocolate spread. Honestly, one of my objectives was to get a few bits and pieces that'd work well with various recipes from my Baking Yesteryear cookbook. It was a gift, and it is a very treasured one, and I will USE IT YES.

I think part of the thing that makes it so precious - quite aside from the one who gave it to me in the first place - is that it taught me why so much gluten-free stuff in shops is so bleh, most of the time.

See ... it's apparently not worth it, in capitalism, to properly accommodate people with dietary restrictions. They don't make many gluten-free products at all, and the ones they do tend to get lumped in with vegan bits and pieces. So a lot of mass-produced gluten-free food is also made without eggs or butter. Now, apparently the point of gluten is elasticity and stretch, trapping gas so that a bread dough can rise, and gluten is therefore more or less pointless for cakes, even though it's very much needed for bread. Now, I say 'more or less' because recipes that call for gluten-free flour ask for an addition of xanthan gum if it's not already in their flour mix. So I'm kind of wondering if it's just that most places that mass-produce gluten-free baked goods are using the amount of xanthan gum that they'd need for bread in everything, and that's making the end result a little tough and dry. Not as noticeable when there's egg and butter adding moistness and richness to the whole thing, but without it? The end result seems to be overly chewy baked goods.

But of course, I need to test that theory a little more. Hence the chocolate mayonnaise cake, actually - I remember Dylan Hollis raving about how moist the cake was, clearly as a result of the mayonnaise, and I want to see if I succeed with a chocolate mayonnaise cake where I failed with the Wacky Cake.

Anyway, also I did burgers ... with a bit of a twist. I couldn't be bothered with most gluten-free buns, so instead I put together a couple of patties, fried them up in the same pan as I was sauteeing some sliced chestnut mushrooms (in garlic butter), put the patties on the plate first, topped each with my dairy-free mozzarella, and then topped all of that with the mushrooms so that the heat from all that would melt the cheese. Then I just ate it with fork and knife, sans bun. With hash browns. It was a bit of a late dinner, all told, but worth it.

[ladyaj-13]

30 plants a week

I ate more than 30 plants today without really trying? Here’s how.

Started the day off with breakfast, of course. I can’t miss breakfast; it’s honestly the only thing that gets me out of bed. Had my standard this morning - seeded toast (wheat, sunflower seeds, brown linseeds, pumpkin seeds, golden linseeds, millet and poppy seeds) with peanut butter, plus a glass of orange juice. 

Total: 9

At work, you’ve got to fuel the old brain, and for me that means copious cups of tea. I also have one coffee a day when I’m in the office (no more, as I have to drink it super sweet).

Total: 11

Mid-morning I got the hunger pangs, and my snack for the day was a three-day-out-of-date smoothie that I’d tacked on to a meal deal sandwich ages ago. It’s advertised as strawberry and banana, but the recipe also includes apple, white grapes, orange (boo, my first double!) and blackcurrants.

Total: 16

Time for lunch, and I had some odds and ends of veg slowly fading in the fridge, so I’d made a salad the night before. I roasted brussels sprouts, sweet potato and carrot while the oven was on re-heating my dinner, and added this to a handful of mixed salad leaves (baby green leaf, baby red leaf, baby spinach and rocket). To make sure I wasn’t hungry again before lunch hour even ended, I also added half a packet of Merchant Gourmet’s Jamaican grains, which includes wholegrain rice, pearl barley, bulgur wheat, kidney beans, black beans, pinto beans and quinoa. There’s also a range of veg-based flavourings and spices, but I won’t put them here as some are covered elsewhere and I don’t know the amounts. For added flavour, and because I had the jars open from a recipe at the weekend so they need using up, I added a small handful of black olives and sundried tomatoes. To this, I added a quick dressing, which as well as a bit of salt, olive oil and Dijon mustard, included black pepper and lemon juice.

Total: 34

After work I did the food shop - I could have stretched it out another day or two, except I was running dangerously low on milk and no one wants to see me tea-deprived. For dinner, I followed a Sidekick recipe for Gochu-miso coconut prawn rice. This started with garlic, fresh ginger, gochujang and miso (both soybean based). Added to this, along with rice and prawns, are peas, coconut milk, lime, and coriander. Although the recipe contained peas, otherwise it was pretty low on veg and I like a veg side with dinner just for variety of flavour (and in this case, texture), so I added a simple cucumber salad, spiced up a bit with chilli flakes and sesame seeds, and the leftover lime juice from the main dish.

This evening I also prepared my snack pot for tomorrow's mid-morning hunger, and sneaked a cherry while waiting for dinner to cook.

Total: 45

-

I’m not likely to extend too much beyond this over the course of the week - I’ll be eating the same bread over and over, and tomorrow I have the exact same lunch and dinner as I prepped two salads at once and have leftovers from cooking tonight. Things I likely will add because they’re currently in my kitchen and on the meal plan are oats, kiwi, raspberries, red pepper, little gem lettuce, melon, potato, parsley, chickpeas and red onion - so while I should hit 50, I’ll likely not get too much further!

It might sound like I’ve cheated a bit in places here - four types of salad leaf, really? But the Zoe website specifies different types of salad leaves count separately, as do different colours of the same vegetable - so a three pack of red, green and yellow peppers can count three times. 70% dark chocolate also counts.

Depending on which source you look at, herbs, spices and tea may only count as a quarter of a point, and some don’t count juices at all. The Zoe team suggest that given the small amounts of dried herbs and spices we tend to consume in a sitting, it’s worth eating them multiple times to get the full benefit - so perhaps if you do that, you can count them higher. I guess it’s guidelines rather than meant to be hard and fast rules. But even allowing for a reduction in the “counting” of herbs, spices and tea, and removing juice, I’d still have hit the weekly 30 today.

To boost the total, my biggest bangs for the buck were the seeded bread, mixed salad leaves, grain packs and herbs and spices - and in the case of the latter three, they’re also all shelf stable, which is a bonus! They’re really useful ways of getting that variety of plant foods when you live alone and supermarket packet sizes are really too big. I’ve been working on the same pack of brussels sprouts for three weeks now…

[rachellaurengray]

The Danish by R Lauren

It began with the Danish. A cherry-filled pastry, golden and flaky, the kind of treat you buy from a small bakery that only bakes in the early morning hours, when the world is still quiet, still untouched. I had bought it yesterday with the intention of saving it for today—something to look forward to, a small pleasure amid an otherwise ordinary life.

I placed it carefully in a Tupperware container, tucking it away in the back of the kitchen cupboard like a secret, a little treasure for later. I remember thinking about how good it would taste, the sweetness of the cherries mingling with the buttery softness of the dough. It was almost too perfect to be real, the kind of thing that seemed too small to matter but also too perfect to ignore.

When I woke up this morning, my stomach growled with anticipation. The Danish would be waiting, right where I’d left it. But when I opened the cupboard, it was gone.

At first, I thought maybe it had somehow shifted, slipped to the back of the shelf, or fallen behind the other containers. I rummaged through the cupboard, pushing aside jars of pasta, bottles of olive oil, a forgotten box of crackers—but there was no Danish. Only a strange, hollow feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

I checked the fridge, then the kitchen counter, even the trash, though I wasn’t sure why. But it was as if it had never been there at all.

A creeping sensation washed over me, something faintly unsettling. I retraced my steps. Yesterday, I had placed it on the counter after I got home, then put it in the cupboard. I hadn’t eaten it. No one else had been home. I couldn’t recall taking a bite, or even thinking about it after I’d stashed it away.

I laughed nervously at myself. Maybe I just ate it already, I thought. Maybe I was so tired I just forgot. But the thought didn’t settle my mind. I had always been a creature of habit. The Danish was something I had planned to savor, to enjoy slowly. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d eat absentmindedly.

Still, the feeling lingered. Something was wrong.

As the day went on, the sense of unease only grew stronger. The Danish, the thing I had been looking forward to all day—it was gone. And I couldn’t shake the thought that there was something… other at play. Something I couldn’t explain.

That evening, just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard it: a soft tapping from the kitchen. At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me—maybe the house settling, or a distant sound. But the tapping was insistent, rhythmic, like a clock ticking backward.

My heart skipped. I pushed myself out of bed, the strange sensation of being watched crawling down my spine. I shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, my steps slow, unsure. The room was dark, colder than it should have been, the shadows pressing in around me. The tapping continued, as if something—or someone—was trying to get my attention.

I stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the room.

And there it was. The Tupperware. Exactly where I had left it.

But it wasn’t empty. The lid was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there, just moments ago. My fingers trembled as I lifted the lid, and there it was.

The Danish.

But it wasn’t the same Danish. The cherry filling had darkened, almost blackened, as if it had been scorched. The crust was twisted and deformed, as though it had been baked again, hastily and without care. It looked old, aged, like something that had been left forgotten for years rather than just a day.

Nestled within the pastry was a small note, folded neatly in half.

I unfolded it with shaking hands. The handwriting was jagged, hurried.

It read:

"You’ve already eaten it. Don’t you remember?"

I stood there, staring at the note. You’ve already eaten it? The words burned into my mind, sinking deep into the core of me. I couldn’t remember eating it. I couldn’t remember even thinking about eating it after I’d put it away. But the note said otherwise.

Suddenly, the air felt thicker, colder. I stared down at the Danish, my pulse racing.

And then, as if the universe had decided to erase all evidence, the Danish vanished. It didn’t crumble or fall apart—it simply wasn’t there anymore. One moment it was sitting in front of me, and the next, it was gone. As if it had never existed at all.

I was alone in the kitchen, the note still warm in my hand, and the lingering sensation of something… otherworldly pressing in on me from all sides.

I stood there for a long moment, trying to make sense of it. But nothing made sense. The Danish was gone, the note was there, but my mind couldn’t piece it all together.

And then, just before I left the kitchen, something clicked in my mind. A single thought whispered through my skull, sharp and clear:

Some things aren’t meant to be remembered.

And somewhere, between the cracks of time and reality, the cherry Danish—fresh, perfect, and waiting—was still waiting for me to find it again. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

[dopeglow]

My grandma has been harvesting fruits and berries and making jams and jellies for as long as I can remember. And I’m in my forties. She gives them out to her brood every Christmas. If you’ve ever canned and preserved, you know it’s a big job. In the past, she’d label each jar with masking tape, initialed “RB” for raspberry, “MB” for marionberry, “AB” for apple butter, etc etc (the lady had no shortage of fruit to process — cherries, strawberries, peaches, blueberries, etc etc). This year, at 93 years old, she treated me to this sweet surprise — her smiling face on each and every lid. I cannot even tell you how stoked I was.

I find it so touching and I hope she knows how important her labors were to me. I’ve told her as much over the years but, her jellies got me through some jams.

Despite earning a BA as a young man and beginning what you might call a ‘career,’ I didn’t like what I thought my future held. So with reflection, counsel and encouragement, I made a change. Blah blah blah. That was then but man let me tell you, I ate PBJs daily, working 40 hours/week and going to night-school for a few years, bicycling to and from my downtown office job, community college and home. And even when I gained admission to a full-time program, left my city job to focus on school and pursue something meaningful, I was on them PBJs. I still pack one on hikes every now and then, just to remind me.

Cherish your grandparents. Listen to your elders. Ask them to tell you their stories. Let them know you respect, appreciate and love them.

[edgewaterfarmcsa]

CSA WEEK 15

P i c k l i s t

watermelon - cherry tomatoes - sweet peppers - sage - kale - onions - corn

THIS WEEK AT EDGEWATER…

I am overwhelmed with joy to announce the return of kale.  On Monday I slogged my wet boots out into the field to pick you bunches upon bunches of collard greens.  After last week’s box of pure bulk, I was missing something green and fluffy to pick and basque in.  All the good fluffy crops have just absolutely failed this season- Lettuce, arugula, swiss chard, and kale have all taken such a hit.  But alas! I peered towards the hill and to my total delight, I spied the return of the sweet green fluff, the old comeback kid. Kale is supposed to be the workhorse of vegetables- the one crop that never says die.* So we were all aghast back in early August, as we watched this patch of kale look so sickly.  That week- we did our best, and used every trick we could.  We stripped all the sad leaves off the plant, spread pelleted fertilizer, and looked to the sun praying to see her shiny face.  A month and a half later, we have curly greens again.  Woot! Woot!

Don’t get me wrong, I love a stand of collard greens.  I’d be just as happy with collards as kale, But it’s been a minute since we all made kale chips and ate kale salad.  As far as other greens go, we’ve been trying like hell to grow lettuce all season.  However there is a woodchuck that continues to eat every last plant that we seed in the greenhouse, and if the lettuce makes it to the field, the deer are all over it.  All that said, we have big plans for our Fall CSA.  We planted up a whole greenhouse of lettuce starts, keeping the sides of the greenhouse down as much as possible.  Tim (of field crew) volunteered to sleep in said greenhouse with a bow, an arrow, a jar of peanut butter and a nine iron.  We’ll see if it comes to that.  

Bottomline here, welcome back kale, but it is now my belief that Collard Greens are the real workhorse all star champ veg.  

Other noteworthy crops of the week, SWEET COLORFUL ROBUST PEPPERS! The pepper fields are finally ripening with all the colors of the rainbow.  Hopefully we can get a good flush out of the crop before the wind breaks all the plants, or we get the first hard frost.  WHAT A SEASON!

*I am positive I mentioned this in a previous note back in late July, please forgive my broken record tendencies. 

FARMY FOODIE PRO-TIPS:

I have no words for this recipe – it is definitely one of my all time favourites. This is hands down the ultimate crowd pleaser dish, and it doesn’t get much easier than this. Packed with creamy feta, rich olive oil, olives, fresh sage, toasted sesame seeds, sweet honey, a touch of orange zest and a hint of chili pepper, this dish is pure goodness. I mean, who wouldn’t want this?! If you are entertaining and need to get something on the table that looks sexy and tastes like heaven, this Baked Feta with Olives, Sesame, Sage & Honey dish is for you 😉

16oz Greek feta- pat dry 

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 strips orange zest- around half an orange

1 tablespoon lightly toasted sesame seeds

1/3 cup castelvetrano olives

1/3 cup kalamata olives

Small handful of fresh sage- can also sub with fresh rosemary or thyme

2 tablespoons honey

Half cayenne chili pepper, thinly sliced

Flaky sea salt

Preheat the over to 400 degrees F.

In a small baking dish, place the feta, olives, orange zest, toasted sesame seeds, sliced chili peppers and olive oil.

Place into the preheated oven for 10-15 minutes.

Set the oven to broil and let broil for 3-5 minutes.

Remove, drizzle with honey, sprinkle Maldon sea salt and serve with crusty fresh bread.

Enjoy that Baked Feta!

I also implore you to eat the above sage feta with ROASTED PEPPERS!! YES PLEASE!

THE FOLLOWING ROASTED PEPPER NOTES ARE FROM bonappetit.com via Alex Delaney:

You don’t need much to make roasted red peppers. Peppers (duh). Olive Oil. And some kosher salt. That’s it. You have most of that stuff at home already, so grab some peppers and let's do this.

There are two ways to roast peppers. Both involve some form of aggressive heat followed by a more mellow, lower-heat method as needed. Whether you’re an oven person or a stovetop person, your cutlet sandwich will be stacked with red peppers in no time. Here’s how we do it:

The Oven Method: Turn on your broiler. Yes, the broiler. That fire thing you might be scared of. It’s cool. Broilers are our friends. We promise. Cut red bell peppers in half and remove the core and seeds. Toss the pepper halves in a tiny bit of olive oil and spread them on a sheet pan, with the cut sides down and skin sides up. Our goal here is to get the skin charred enough to be able to easily remove it. Put the peppers under the broiler for 12-14 minutes, until the skins are black. Remove the peppers and turn your oven to 250°.

The peppers won’t be cooked all the way through from that time under the broiler. But the skins should peel right off. Let them cool a bit until you feel comfortable handling them, then use your hands or the back of a knife to peel the charred skins off of the peppers and then place the skinless peppers back on the sheet pan. Throw them back in your oven for about half an hour, until the peppers are tender and cooked through. Take them out, let them cool, and slice them into strips. Look at you! You roasted red peppers! Amazing!

The Stovetop Method: You can also recreate the broiler effect by laying peppers directly over an open flame. We would not suggest using that BIC lighter in your junk drawer. The flame on your (gas) stove will work much better. (Sorry to those of you with electric burners—hopefully you have a broiler?) Turn the flame on medium, place the peppers on the burner so they're in direct contact with the heat, and use tongs to rotate as needed so the skin gets dark and charred all over. Repeat this with as many burners as you need for as many peppers as you have. Maybe it’s two. Maybe it’s 736. We don’t know how much you like roasted red peppers. When each one is finished charring, sling it into a bowl and cover with plastic wrap—you want to let those bad boys steam a bit once they come off the burner.

Once you've charred all the peppers and let them all hang out in that steamy covered bowl, take them out, pull out the stem and seedy parts, open the peppers kind of a like a book and place them (charred) skin side up on your cutting board. Using your hands or the back of a knife, scrape off the charred skin. (It's okay if some won't come off; it won't kill you.) At this point the peppers should be mostly cooked-through, but if you want them a little softer you can go ahead and cook them over low heat in a Dutch oven with a glug of olive oil, stirring every once in a while, until they've softened to your liking.

JENNY’S NOTE: i roast my peppers by charring on the grill :)

Storage Maneuvers: Whether you went the stove or oven route, you should be looking at some tender, skinless roasted red peppers. Nice job. You can eat them immediately if you’d like, but the secondary goal is to store them so they’re ready to use at a moment’s notice. Sprinkle the peppers with a bit of kosher salt and transfer them into a glass jar or plastic Tupperware. Pack them in tightly, then add olive oil until the peppers are fully submerged.

Keeping the peppers submerged in the liquid will make sure they don’t spoil in the fridge—they should keep for at least a week this way. And since these peppers can hang around in the fridge for a minute, we'd suggest roasting more than two. Maybe not 736, like we suggested earlier...but definitely more than two.

[ms-demeanor]

Extraneous details because I am deeply enjoying this post and it is making the concept of getting whatever I'm going to get more fun.

I was looking at the waffle cone irons you can find online and it seems like quite a lot of them are hot garbage, but there's a brand called Nordic Ware that makes high quality waffle-cookie irons but they're expensive. But the company has been around for a long time. So if I do go with a waffle cone gift it's not going to be a piece of shit amazon special it's going to be 1970s vintage fancy waffle maker because I can get the fancy one from fifty years ago at the same price and you know what does not care about the passage of fifty years? Cast aluminum.

The twinkle lights would go inside of shadow boxes that I've got CMYK backing cards for and that I've got four identical uranium glass dinner plates in; the point of the battery pack is that then I wouldn't have to have independent lighting to aim at the display, I'd be able to turn on the battery packs with the shadow boxes on the wall.

Once I won a 16 ounce jar of maraschino cherries as a prize in elementary school and I ate the entire jar between the time that school got out and the time my parents picked me up from daycare. It would definitely take me more than a day to eat 72 ounces of cherries, but I'd be extremely surprised if it took me more than a month. (unfortunately they are in a plastic jar, so the cherries don't come with the fun bonus gift of a free big glass jar). I really, really, really like maraschino cherries. And if I got the cherries I think I'd probably set some aside to put in ice cream and I'd do DIY spumoni. I miss spumoni ice cream so much. If anyone knows of a spumoni ice cream without corn products in it please give me a link making ice cream sucks.

Twin peaks is REALLY REALLY good.

Lithops are very slow growing and kind of translucent and look like both butts and rocks and I just think they're neat.

I think I may already have one guitar hanger but if i'm being honest the last time I saw it was 2020 so I can't count on it. I do vaguely know where to look for it. But also, one hanger, three guitars. I'd probably put my electric/acoustic within easy reach if I only had one hanger to use but the mikro basssssss i love her

I have a couple of ammonite fossils so this would get added to the collection but yeah i like animals and i like rocks and sometimes fossils are rocks that used to be animals and that's cool!

There is only one unicorn plate available so I've got my eye on it but I'm also not going to buy anything before I'm ready and that's going to be at least a couple days after my birthday. It's vintage but it's 1980s vintage, not 1930s vintage. However I'm also 1980s vintage so that's good.

This is what a fuzz pedal does. The stuff I'm working on is kind of like Low if Low was aiming for a more distorted version of the guitar sound from the Janis Joplin performance of Ball & Chain at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival.

Monin rose and violet syrup. For mixing with gin but also just mixing with soda water or lemonade.

I have settled into the best fashion, I think, which is a black tank top and tights paired either with a flannel in the colder months or a camp shirt in the warmer months (sometimes with fishnets and shorts instead of tights). This is what peak performance looks like.

I am a crocheter, not a knitter, and the yarn would probably become a cowl; this is probably a waste of perfectly good yarn but it's so pretty.

Alright. I'm thinking about buying myself a birthday present.

[100dayproductivity]

Day 29/100.

So the jar of cherries (sour cherries, actually), I ate some this morning with Greek-style yogurt and All-Bran buds. Yum! They are fine. I'm not sure how to decipher the Best Before info. It says "31 12 2022 TC 11 23". I don't know what TC stands for. It should be noted that this jar comes from Poland, so possibly TC means "best before" in Polish. So that might mean that the cherries were packed on Dec 31, 2022 and are best before Nov 2023.

No, that can't be right... We just passed Dec 2022 and I definitely bought this jar over a year ago. Maybe over two years ago. So they officially expired almost two months ago. But they are still just fine.

As for the pumpkin puree, based on the info from the USDA (see my previous post) it should also be just fine, even though the best before date was over two years ago (Oct 2020). I'm thinking of making cookies with it.

But first, because I forgot yesterday and almost forgot again now, I have to cook those beans that have been soaking in my fridge for two days now!

I also need to do at least one load of laundry and I have some bookkeeping to attend to that I keep putting off. I know why I keep putting it off. Part of this task requires me to send an email to my ex-husband, and that is a pain-point. It's not a big deal, it'll be a short uncontroversial message, it'll take two seconds. There's no reason why I should be avoiding this simple task, other than the fact that humans avoid pain-points. I think a lot of procrastination stems from pain avoidance, but it's almost never as bad as our primitive subconscious minds make it out to be. Consciously becoming aware of what your pain-points are is half the battle.

Wow, not sure how a post about expired cherries became a Cognitive Behavior Therapy session but there you have it.

---

End of day update

Did

cook the beans

one load of laundry

send required pain-point email (thanks to having written this post earlier, it was not that painful)

Did not

attend to bookkeeping

bake cookies

Tomorrow's another day

[vinyls-and-valentines]

No thoughts, head Cherri Cola at his grandparent's for the holidays. Causing trouble with his cousins

[ratsoh-writes]

More angst asks babyy. Lets do main ten.

Lets say skellie had a small little tradition with his s/o. Like..lets say s/o reallly likes pickles or something, and skellie used to always give them his last pickle(doesnt have to be the exact food, but basically skellie shares something with s/o everytime they do that one thing)

Anyways, lets say s/o died somehow. How would skellie react to where he finds himself making a sandwhich and out of habbit goes to save the last pickle(and/or whatever activity and fjnds himself going to do the thing out of habbit) a little bit after s/o has passed?

Who just goes queit for a long moment, who bursts out in tears, who just quits doing whatever activity it was etc etc?

-edgy.🦩

Sans: sans SO always was determined to eat the first chip in the bag. He thought it was cute to hold it in the air and teasingly move it away when SO makes a grab for it. he freezes in place, still holding the first chip in mid air staring at the spot where his SO would’ve- no should’ve been. Sans slowly lowers his hand, drops the chips, and just puts everything away. He’s lost his appetite.

Papyrus: his SO always would take the tomatoes off his hamburgers because their siblings never wanted to eat them. They did it to papyrus once by accident, and it became an inside joke between the two. Papyrus had gone to his late SOs favorite burger shop with their grieving sibling. Out of reflex, he and sibling take the tomato slices out of the burger and try to pass it to each other. They both stare in each other’s eyes, start tearing up, then start laughing together. Every one is wondering what’s up with those two

Star: for some weird reason, his SOs favorite part of the cinnamon bun was the raisins. So Star would pick his off for them. Star numbly picks the raisins off the bun that honey gave him. As he stares down at the napkin, now full of the fruit, big tears well up and fall down on the table. Honey walks in on Star hiccuping quietly to himself as he eats the raisins one by one

Honey: he can’t even look at ham pineapple pizza without tearing up these days. His SO loved the pizza but hated the ham and would give him all the slices. Even the scent of it now makes him queasy. It feels wrong to taste it without them.

Red: on the miracle that red does survive loosing his SO, he’d be the one who’d eat his SOs favorite food anytime he passed a significant day without them. It’s like his personal way of remembering them

Edge: when he takes the cherry out of his milkshake, he blinks and remembers that the sweet little SO who always stole it from him isn’t here. Edge feels the tears pool in his eyes, growls, and chucks his milkshake in the trash.

Mal: his SO always ate the pickles in the jar but left the juice for mal. Every time he gets up for a late night snack, and sees the jar of dill pickles, still full, he looses his appetite and gives up walking away. After a few weeks of this, the pickles start disappearing. Cash and mal have late night snacks together now. Cash doesn’t mind eating them for his bro

Cash: he was never a good eater to begin with, so his SO would get pizza pretty often as it was one of the few foods cash always seemed to have an appetite for. But his poor SO never likes spice like he did. So they always got two pizzas, one hot for cash, and one mild for them. The first time cash orders with his SO gone, he accidentally gets mild for them. Mal comes home to two full pizza boxes stuffed in the trash can

Oak: his SO loved stealing a lick of frosting from his sweets. It became second nature for him to hold up the cupcake and let them have the first bite. Like always oak holds his cupcake up…. And waits. His hand starts to shake. Willow asks him if he’s alright. Oak says he’s fine and takes a reluctant bite

Willow: for some reason, his SO loved the end pieces of a loaf of bread. So willow always made the last sandwich for them, with those two slices. The first time he eats a sandwich with the end slices on his own, he nearly chokes. It’s hard chewing between the sobs

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Everybody in Hellfire catches the same bug except Hellfire Mom. (She had her cootie shots before she started hanging out with a bunch of teenage boys. Good call, Hellfire Mom.) How's she going to take care of her little sheepies? I'm seeing a massive pot of homemade soup being divided into jars and delivered on doorsteps. (Bonus: If she catches it after the boys get better and she doesn't kill them all for getting her sick, how would they return the favor?)

i was really hoping someone would request something like this 🥰 sorry it took so long to finish! i wanted to make sure i included all the boys and i guess it’s kind of funny that it was requested the last time i was sick and i finish it the second time i get sick 😂

Idiot Brothers

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- Mentions of vomiting (nothing explicit)

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian

Words- 4.6k

The last few days at school had made you feel a bit lonelier than normal. Sure, you still had Dustin and Mike and a few other people in your classes you could still talk to, but without your boys it just felt so much quieter.

You weren’t sure how, but they all had managed to catch the same bug at the same time, and had all been stuck at home in bed for the last couple of days while they tried to get better. Thank god they didn’t get you sick.

Fortunately enough, while they were stuck in their beds with fevers, they had a good friend who had planned on visiting them all. And of course you were bringing them all a little something you put together to help them feel better.

Each one of them had a little care package that you put together, complete with little things to keep them occupied while they were stuck in bed. Pedialyte to help keep them hydrated because you knew at least one of them would refuse to drink any water, cough drops in a different flavor for each of them and of course an extra package of the cherry ones for Gareth since he ate those like candy, and you had packaged them each a little jar of your homemade soup for them to heat up when they were feeling hungry. And of course you had also added in a few extras for them. A few snacks from the corner store, a book to help keep them occupied with something other than TV for a little bit, a box of tea to help with their sore throats and a bit of their congestion, ginger ale to help settle their stomachs a bit, a little stuffed animal to keep with them in bed so they had some company, and of course you had to be a bit of a bad guy and being their missed schoolwork with you. You’ll be damned if they think they’re using this as an excuse to get out of doing the things necessary to graduate.

But you wanted to give them each something a little special along with their care packages to show them that you really cared. A handwritten ‘get well’ note for them to read when they were feeling their worst, and on the envelope for each you had little scribbles and doodles all over it, with the words ‘Love you! Feel better soon <3’ right in the middle.

It was cheesy, but you knew they would appreciate it.

You carefully packed up everything into your car and headed out to give them all their care packages, starting out with Gareth who lived the closest to you.

You pulled into his driveway, giving his dad a wave as you saw him mowing the lawn out front. You parked and grabbed the little basket from your passenger seat and made your way up the front steps of their porch, seeing his mom in the kitchen as soon as you shut the door behind you,

“(y/n), it’s good to see you! Are you here for Gareth?” You nodded and smiled and she pointed to the stairs, “He’s up in his room, you go right on up.”

You quickly made your way upstairs and gently knocked on his bedroom door,

“Gare?”

“Come in!” He shouted to you, sounding a lot more tired than usual.

You slowly opened his door and smiled to him in bed, shutting the door behind you, and as soon as he saw you he smiled.

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” He said with a laugh.

You giggled and walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge while making sure you kept your space,

“Well i brought you something that might make you feel a bit better.”

You handed him the basket and he looked through everything with a tired smile,

“(y/n) you didn’t have to get me all this.”

“I know!” You reached a hand out to push back the curls from his face, “But i wanted to bring all you guys something since i knew you weren’t feeling too good. Anyone figure out what it was?”

“Nope. Grant thought it was his allergies at first but then all of us started to feel the same, we figured it’s just the seasons changing and all.”

“Well hopefully you’re not stuck in bed for much longer. I hope you like all the stuff i got for you!”

“Of course i do! This was really sweet of you (y/n), thank you.”

“Aww of course sweetheart,” You leaned over and gently kissed his forehead, “i hope you feel better soon. I should probably get going, i’ve got to bring the other guys their stuff too! Let me know if you’re feeling any better alright?”

He nodded and grabbed one of the boxes of tea from the basket, handing it to you as you stood up from his bed,

“I will. And when you get downstairs would you ask my mom to make some of this for me? Tea sounds really good right now.”

“Of course i will,” You smiled and kissed the top of his head once more before heading to his door, “make sure to read those chapters for english! You know you need to get your grade up.”

Gareth rolled his eyes and picked the book up off of his nightstand,

“Fine. But you have to promise not to nag me about it anymore.”

“Read the chapters and i won’t nag you.”

Gareth smiled and waved to you as you left his room, making your way back downstairs into the kitchen where his mother was still cleaning up from his sisters and their coloring books,

“Mrs. Emerson, Gareth asked if you would make him some of this tea i brought for him?”

“Of course!” She took the box from you with a smile, “Would you like some too?”

“Oh, no, i’m alright thank you. I was just about to head out and bring the rest of the guys their care packages too.”

“You’re a very good friend to have (y/n), they’re lucky to have someone like you around. Tell the boys they’re welcome to come over as soon as they’re better.”

“I will! It was good to see you!”

“You too dear, take care.”

You smiled and as you left you waved back to his dad before getting back into your car and making your way over to Grants house, your next stop.

As you pulled down his street you could see his dad and a few of his friends outside working on their motorcycles in the driveway, giving you a wave as they saw you.

You happily waved back as you parked your car in front of their house, grabbing Grants care package from the back and slamming your car door shut.

“Hey there little miss, how’ve you been?” His dad asked you as him and the guys made a path for you to walk around them and all their bikes, opening his arm up to give you a side hug as you walked past him and the rest of his friends.

“I’ve been good! Not feeling sick thank god, but i cant say the same for the rest of them.”

“Yeah, Grants been locked up in his room, you bring that for him?”

“I did! I made one for each of the guys, i figured they needed some cheering up while they’re at home.”

“Isn’t that sweet!” He said with a laugh, the rest of his friends agreeing, “Well he’s up in his room, you go right in.”

You smiled at his friends as you walked into their home through the garage door, finding his stepmom in their living room with a book in her hand as she was laid out on their sofa, one of her 70’s pop records playing softly in the background. As soon as she heard the garage door open, she greeted you with an excited smile,

“(y/n)! Sweetie it’s so wonderful to see you!” She set her book onto the coffee table and quickly ran up to hug you, “Is this for Grant? That is so sweet of you, did you need me to help you bring it up?”

“Oh no, i think i’ve got it, thank you though! And yes, it’s for Grant, i got all the guys a little care package since i know him and all the rest of them aren’t feeling too well.”

“Isn’t that nice! Well he’s upstairs in his room, you go right on up.”

You smiled and quickly went up the stairs, following the sound of groans and coughs to the door near the stairs.

You knocked gently before cracking the door open and peeking your head in,

“Grant? You feeling alright?”

You spotted him in bed, the TV on low volume as it looked like he had just woken up from a nap. He rubbed his eyes and turned, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw you,

“(y/n), what are you doing here? i’m sick, i don’t want you to catch anything.”

“I’ll be fine! If i didn’t get sick when you guys were around me i don’t think i’ll get sick now. I’ve got something for you.” You smiled and stepped forward, placing the little basket of things next to him in bed.

He looked through it and smiled happily at all the things you had packed up for him, but frowning as soon as he saw his missed schoolwork in the back,

“You really got my hopes up with all this nice stuff, you really expect me to get all these study guides finished?”

“If you want to go on the end of the year trip to Six Flags i sure do. You’ve been dying to go on it, just do it when you’re in bed or something, there’s 24 hours in a day and i’m sure you’ll find time for them.”

“Yeah, 24 hours but i’m asleep for 20 of those.”

You laughed to yourself at his stubbornness, fully expecting him to act upset over seeing his schoolwork, but of course you prepared him a little something extra.

You reached out and showed him the jar of soup you had made and his eyes lit up as he grabbed it from you.

“No fucking way, is that soup you made when Wayne was sick a few months ago?”

“Yep! I know how much you like it so i made you a little extra.”

“You’re the best (y/n).”

“I know!” You said with a smile, taking a few steps closer to him and leaning down to kiss the top of his head, “Did you want me to ask your stepmom to heat it up for you?”

“Would you mind?”

“Of course not! I’ll bring it down to her. I think i should get going too, i’ve already stopped at Gareths place so now i’ve just got Eddie and Jeff.”

He nodded and handed you the jar, settling himself back into bed as you approached his bedroom door,

“Get lots of rest ok? And you’ll call me if you’re feeling better?”

“I will, i promise.”

You smiled and waved to one another before you slowly shut his bedroom door, making sure to keep quiet as you stepped back downstairs, though the sound of his dad and his buddies leaving on their motorcycles didn’t do much to help.

His stepmom was changing out one of her records in the living room when she saw you step back down from the stairs, holding the jar in your hand,

“How’s he doing sweetheart?”

“He seems like he’s doing alright, but he’s been pretty sleepy,” You held out the jar of soup for her to take, “I made this to help him feel a bit better, he wanted to know if you’d heat it up for him?”

“Absolutely! How sweet of you to make this for him, are you going to stick around?”

“Oh i’d love to but i can’t, i made little care packages for each of the guys and i’ve still got Jeff and Eddie, it was good to see you though!”

“Good to see you too hon! When he’s feeling all better we’d love to have you and your family over for dinner again.”

“That sounds great! Cant wait until then.”

She gave you a kind wave as you left, slowly walking down the driveway and back to your car as you got yourself ready to head over to Jeff’s place.

The drives between houses thankfully weren’t long, but still it felt like the task had been taking a while to finish. You didn’t think much of it, a quick cough snapping you out of your train of thought as you pulled down Jeff’s street and spotted their long driveway.

You pulled in and noticed that only his sisters car had been in the driveway, parents must’ve been at work today.

You parked behind her car in the driveway, grabbing his package from the back and walking up the steps of his porch to ring the doorbell.

His sister answered and gave you a kind smile,

“Hey (y/n), you know Jeff is sick right?”

“I know, the rest of the guys are sick too,” You held up the package for her to see, “I made them all these little care packages to help them feel a bit better.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” She opened the door for you to step inside and you kicked off your shoes at the door, “He should be in the basement, you know where it is. You know it surprises me how you’re able to stand all of them.” She said with a laugh.

“I mean, they’re just boys.” You shrugged, “It’s like having four idiot brothers that you have to babysit all the time. It sounds bad, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Oh god, i’ve just got the one, i can’t imagine three more.”

You laughed with one another before she went back to her movie in the living room. You found the basement door and slowly opened it, knocking on the wall before stepping down the last step.

“Jeff, you up?”

You saw him laid out on the couch, a pillow behind his head and a few blankets over him. He must’ve been the one to get the chills from being sick.

He turned his head and smiled as he saw you,

“Hey (y/n)! What are you doing here? I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh please, i’ll be fine!” You walked around the couch and held out the care package for him, “I brought you something, i figured it might help you feel a bit better.”

“No way! You didn’t have to do all this,” He smiled as he sat up and looked through the package, pulling out one of the boxes of cough drops and popping a few into his mouth, “Thanks, i really needed some of this stuff.”

“I’m just hoping all you guys feel better soon,” You moved your arm over your mouth as you coughed a few times, “you can’t imagine how boring it’s been at school without you guys.”

Jeff handed you the box of cough drops,

“Here, take one, let’s hope you’re not sick like the rest of us.”

You took a few and placed one in your mouth, the other ones going into the pocket of your jacket,

“Thanks, but i should be alright. I’ve already visited Gareth and Grant, i think it’s just a cough.”

“Yeah well better safe than sorry.”

“I guess you’re right,” You said with a shrug, “how you been feeling?”

“Freezing. I’ve had nonstop chills, i keep making my sister put blankets and socks in the dryer for me to help keep me warm but even with all these layers i’m still cold.”

“That sounds awful! Did you want me to get you another blanket or something?”

“Oh no, i’ll be alright for now,” He smiled and settled back into the couch, “I was actually about to take a nap before you came in, it might be a little easier with all these goodies.”

“Well then i should get going and let you take your nap, i’ve still got Eddie to visit.”

“Hopefully he’s not too bad, i think he’s got it the worst out of all of us.” He pulled the blankets back up over him and made himself comfortable on the couch he was laid out on, “Tell him i said ‘hey’ alright?”

“Of course! You want me to shut the light off?”

“Could you?”

“No problem,” You smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the head before going back to the stairs, “feel better sweetie.”

You shut the basement light off and made your way back upstairs, quietly shutting the door behind you and giving his sister a wave before heading back out to your car, ready to make your last stop at Eddie’s.

Before making your drive over, you coughed a few more times and felt your throat start to get a bit sore, but you just shrugged it off and placed another one of Jeff’s cough drops into your mouth. You couldn’t be sick. There was no way. It was just a cough.

You shook it off and made the short drive over to the trailer park, keeping your eye out for Eddie’s van parked out front. Once you spotted it, you smiled, knowing that Eddie was finally doing what he was told and staying home.

He had been the most stubborn about being sick, and he’d even shown up to school looking his worst before ever admitting he was sick. He was definitely the cause for the rest of the guys getting sick, but when Jeff said he had gotten the worst of it, it made you feel a bit bad for the stubborn boy.

You parked your car and grabbed the very last care package from the back, slowly walking up the stairs and opening the front door of the trailer. You knew Eddie always kept it unlocked when Wayne was at work.

“Eddie?” You called out for him as you shut the door behind you, looking around for him in the trailer but he was nowhere to be found.

You assumed he was in his bedroom until you heard the sounds of retching from the bathroom.

You set the care package onto the kitchen counter and quickly went to find Eddie, tapping on the bathroom door and waiting for his answer,

“Eddie, can i come in?”

You waited another moment to see if he would respond but when all you could hear was him retching once more and you opened the bathroom door, seeing him hunched over the toilet as he threw up once more,

“Oh, poor baby,” You shut the door behind you and sat next to him on the bathroom floor, holding his hair back for him with one hand and slowly rubbing his back with the other, “It’s ok, i got you.”

You groaned as you watched him cough and spit into the toilet one last time before reaching a hand up and flushing it. He sighed and coughed one more time before leaning his head up slowly and looking at you with a pained smile,

“Thanks.”

“Of course sweetie, here,” You let go of his hair and leaned over to the sink, grabbing the bottle of mouthwash for him, “get that taste out of your mouth.”

He took a swig and swished it through his cheeks before spitting it into the toilet and flushing once more, handing the bottle back to you. You placed it back onto the sink and stood up,

“All done?”

“I should be.” He slowly stood up from the tile floor and coughed a few more times.

“You get back into bed,” You open the bathroom door for him to step back into his bedroom as you made your way into the kitchen to grab his care package, “I’ve got a present for you.”

As you walked into his bedroom he had finished pulling the covers over himself and he smiled seeing the care package in your hands,

“Aww, i knew you liked me (y/n).”

“Oh please,” You smiled and rolled your eyes, handing the package to him, “all the guys got one, you just so happened to be the last.”

“You know i’m joking. Thanks, this was really nice of you.”

“I try. I figured you guys might need some cheering up after being like this for the last few days.” You sat on the end of his bed, making sure to keep your distance just to make sure your cough didn’t turn into anything worse than what it was.

He looked through the basket and took out the little stuffed teddy bear, setting it next to him in bed,

“And you brought me a friend too.”

“I figured it wasn’t too fun to be stuck all alone.”

“Got that right.”

You turned your head to cough once more, this time your chest starting to ache as you did so and Eddie could hear that it was uncomfortable for you,

“We didn’t get you sick too did we?”

“I hope not, i’d kill you guys if i got sick.” You stood up from his bed and leaned in towards him, pushing his bangs back and lightly kissing his forehead, “I think i’m going to head home, it’s been a long day taking all this stuff to you guys.”

“You definitely deserve some rest after dealing with all of us.”

You smiled and placed the last of your cough drops between your lips,

“You get some rest too. And you’ll let me know if you’re feeling any better right hon?”

“I will. Promise.”

You gave him a wave and closed the door to his bedroom, fishing your keys out of your pocket and getting yourself back into the drivers seat of your car.

As you turned the key in the ignition you started to feel a bit off. Definitely not how you felt when you left the house.

It wasn’t cold out, but you could feel a chill on the back of your neck. You hadn’t eaten too much that day but your stomach started to turn. It wasn’t until you felt your forehead start to heat up that you knew something was wrong.

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

You groaned as you looked at the temperature on the thermometer between your fingers.

101.3.

Ever since you had gotten home from bringing the boys their care packages, you knew you had gotten sick.

Fever, nausea, chills and heat flashes, congestion, dehydration. Of course they had given you all the worst parts of being sick.

Luckily you had everything you needed yo keep yourself occupied while you were stuck away in your room.

Lots of water, a comfy bed, plenty of blankets, and lots of books and movies to keep you entertained for as long as you needed. Not to mention this was the perfect time to catch up on some well deserved naps.

But it did get a bit lonely being stuck away from your friends.

They still called every day just to talk and catch up with you, Eddie even kept you on speaker during Hellfire so it was like you were there with them but it still wasn’t the same.

As you watched Gremlins for what felt like the sixth time that week, you heard a gentle knock at your bedroom door, and you smiled as you saw your boys peek into your room.

“It’s ok for us to come in right?” Grant asked.

“It is, you guys can come in.” You sat up in bed, your blankets still bundled up over your lap as they entered your room, each of them holding a little wrapped up present for you.

“Sorry for getting you sick.” Gareth said as he shut your door.

“It’s alright, don’t be sorry,” You giggled, “it was bound to happen eventually.”

“But we still feel bad about it.” Jeff approached you first, handing you the gift he was holding, “and we know you put a lot of time and effort into the stuff you gave us when we were sick, so we wanted to give you some stuff to help you while you’re sick.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you, thank you!” You placed the package into your lap and quickly unwrapped it, seeing that Jeff had gotten you a few bottles of your favorite color of gatorade, along with a few of your favorite snacks and some ginger tea to help your sore throat.

Grant was next, eagerly handing you your present. It was a bit heavier than you were expecting but once you opened it you could see why.

His stepmom had made you some of her own homemade soup and he had gotten you some ginger ale and lemon lime pop to help settle your stomach. Along with a few boxes of tissues and he had even rented you a few of your favorite movies from Family Video to give you some more variety than the same few things you’d been watching over and over again.

Eddie moved between the two of them to hand you your present, and in normal Eddie fashion, you saw little doodles all over the paper that surrounded your gift.

He had made you a few new cassettes to listen to while you were in bed, a couple packages of different flavor cough drops, and he had even gotten you a little stuffed animal of your own to keep you company while they were gone.

Gareth had the biggest gift for you, though you figured with how generous his family was, all of it definitely wasn’t from him.

Inside was a little container of his moms cookies that she knew you loved, and his younger sisters had even made you get well presents of their own. A few colored in pages from their coloring books and some homemade bracelets, which you thought was very sweet of them.

And you figured the rest was from Gareth, a bottle of pedialyte, and some horror books for when you wanted a break from your movies.

“Guys, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“Well you didn’t have to give us all that stuff when we were sick.” Eddie said with a smile.

“We really hope you get better soon (y/n),” Grant said from next to you, “to be honest it’s been pretty boring at lunch and during Hellfire without you there.”

“Aww you guys are so sweet to me.” You gathered up the presents from them and moved them next to your bed, making some room for you to spread out.

“We didn’t want to bother you for too long, we figured we’d stop by and give you your presents and then let you get some rest.” Jeff leaned over and gave you a kiss on the top of your head, “Feel better soon (y/n).” He has stepped back to let the other boys say their goodbyes.

“Let us know when you’re feeling better ok?” Gareth leaned over and gave you another kiss to your head and you nodded in response.

“We we’re gonna bring your homework but i guess you’re caught up on everything,” Grant leaned over to kiss your head, “I guess you just got lucky.”

You giggled,

“Yeah, sure.”

Eddie smiled and leaned down, giving you one last kiss on your forehead,

“Feel better sis.”

You smiled and waved at them as they left and shut your bedroom door quietly behind them.

You grabbed one of the movies Grant had brought for you and quickly popped it into your VHS player, climbing back into bed and getting yourself comfortable for another nap.

You were lucky to have friends that cared about you as much as you cared about them.

Even if they did act like your idiot brothers sometimes.