#so rip to everyone who ever tried. my service topping was reserved for people i actually wanted to provide a service to you feel.

[tinystepsforward]

You've fumbled lesbians one can only imagine.

you know, i forgot i had an ask meme going, and the longer it's been since i answered the other asks the funnier this gets. the hatemail game on this site etc etc.

i actually have no way of knowing if this is true! i know a good few people found and find me attractive but in general i am oblivious and have been partnered a long time (polyam but married, though until recently i was one end of a very stable v-triad) and am... not really interested in anyone else for the most part? polysaturation level or being aspec/demi or whatever the fuck you want to call it, idc what it is i'm just living my life. so who knows honestly ¯_(ツ)_/¯ mostly my other t4t dyke friends and i are in a comfortable place where i'm very distinctly not a romantic or sexual prospect and everyone is happier that way.

unless we're doing "lesbians one can only imagine" in a less positive way in which case yes absolutely i have quite on accident fumbled my way out of a lot of Situations (tm) with women who wanted to smash but were absolute car crash dykes who proceeded to set their lives on fire and would never have been remotely compatible with me

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 16

Chapter Selection

TW: Rape

My arms were wrapped around him; my hands around his torso. His back was pressed against my chest. My legs were over top of his tangled in each other. I felt him shift in front of me. 

"This is different", I heard him mumbled. I hummed in agreement. "I like it though." 

"Figured you word, who doesn't wanna be held." He made quick movements and flipped us around so he was hold me. "Yeah getting held is nice and all but this is better." 

His hand went under my shirt and were resting on my stomach. Right as I was going to fade away his phone rang. I let out a sigh.

"Every fucking time, welp I'm up now." I stood and went to the bathroom while around laid in bed answering the phone. I looked at the clock, it was 7am. I jumped into the shower, I heard the door open and close. 

Aaron got in with me. I was letting the water over my body, "What'd they want."

"It was Dave he was letting me know that he made reservations for dinner at 5 they Morgan texted saying he wanted to do to a club tonight. I started laughing, 

"They just went out 2 days ago, I swear one day were gonna have to take them to the hospital for alcohol poisonings."

I moved him into the water washing his body; he did the same with me. 

We stepped out, "I'm starving, oh my god can we get room service. I know its dumb but I've never done it before." He chuckled putting on his shirt, "Sure princess." I sat down on the bed getting on the phone, I placed an order for the food. 

"I'm gonna tell Spencer we'll be out later today cause I'm spending all my time with you." I tossed my phone to the side, sending the text. I went over to the edge of the bed where Aaron was and started tickling his side. 

"Ah, fu- y/n.. stop", he rolled onto the floor. I was hanging off the bed laughing my ass off. Aaron just gave me a grin, staring at me, "Oh you want to be like that huh?" I smiled nodding my head. He started to stand up from the floor. 

I knew what was coming and I got up and bolted towards the door. I opened the door walking down the hallway till I saw him coming after me. "No fuck you...." I was giggling now jogging down the hallway. 

I was making my way down turning a corner, I didn't see him anymore. I thought I lost him when I felt a pair of hands holding me. He swiftly picked me up and put me over his shoulder. "Aaron!", I yelled tapping his back .

"I could feel his back tense and the laughter falling from his lips, "Thought you could get away? I mean good effort... you almost did." I gave up fighting him. "Ok hold on, put me down I wanna a piggy back ride." 

He set me down on my feet turning around and I climbed on his back. My legs going around his waist and his hands hold me still with a firm grip on my thighs. We made our way down the hallway back into the room. 

He flipped me in front of him and hovered over me. 

I saw his eyes getting slightly darker. I gripped him by his shirt and slowly pulled his down to me kissing him gently. 

His hand cupped my face deepening the kiss. My legs stayed wrapped around him. Then there was a knock on the door; my breakfast was here. 

I opened the door and they rolled in a cart, I said thank you to the man and he left pulling the door shut behind him. "This is so cool", Aaron pulled the cart towards the bed sitting down. "Its just food." 

"Like I said before I've never had room service before let me enjoys this", I had a smile on my face when I saw the food. I had ordered peanut butter waffles with real maple syrup and had them covered in butter. They were so flavorful and creamy from the peanut butter.  

I took a drink of my coffee and fed Aaron some of my food. After he took a bite be picked up some of his food an fed me. He got French toast and bacon. I held up my finger and dipped the bacon in my syrup. He gave me a weird look, "Come on it's so fucking good." 

"Yeah I'm not too sure about that", when we were done we cleaned up and laid in bed all day watching tv and playing some games. When it was time we went to dinner with the team and then we got changed for the club. 

I stepped out of the bathroom and say Aaron. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt with washed grey jeans. The shirt was perfect for showing off his shoulder and his arms. I could see the veins running down his arm. 

I walked over and started tracing them, he looked down at me. "Ready?", I said yes and we left. We walked over to the club, it was 5 mins from the hotel. I walked in with Aaron behind me and I saw Reid waving his arm at us. 

Emily of course already had shots lined up I was going to grab on but she told me wait. 

"We're gonna play a game ok. Never have I ever. If you've done the thing we mention them take a shot." We all nodded and started the game. Morgan started first, "Never have I ever had a one night stand." Practically every took a shot but Aaron and I. "Pretty boy my man", Morgan gave Reid a fist bump then they turned the attention to me.   

"Really y/n? Not once", JJ said to me. "I'm more in it for the relationship." They shrugged it off then continued the game. 

"Thought about sleeping with on of my coworkers." I took a shot real fast but so did everyone else. We wouldn't to keep those thoughts anonymous so we didn't elaborate. "What'd to date a coworker." I took another shot. They looked at me, "I'm keeping thoughts to myself." I said while laughing. 

We continued that game for another 5 mins. I was 4 shots deep and I was starting to feel it. Aaron and I weren't planning on drinking too much because he knew how bad my hangovers were. 

"If you didn't know anyone us who would you date." That question went around the table. Reid said me, Morgan said Emily so did JJ, Emily said JJ. Then that question came to Aaron and I. Aaron did answer till they forced it out of him. He said me, I wanted to mess with him so I said Morgan; He glared at me and tried to not make it obvious.

Morgan threw his arms up and yelled. "Ok ok calm down." Laughing I grabbed Aaron hand and went to the dance floor, the team soon followed. Morgan finding a group of girls to be with. I gave Aaron on more shot and he started to loosen up. 

His hips landed on my hips swaying back and forth into him. My hands going backwards and landed around his neck. His breath going into my neck, they other people all around us raising the temperature. 

Once I cooled off I felt really tired, "Aaron I'm gonna head back to the hotel." 

"Okay let me know when we get there, I'll go back in an hour. Love you." 

"Love you too", I walked away from his and walked outside. I started walking passing the building, there was no one around me. 

As I was passing one of the building I felt hands going around my mouth and arms around my waist pulling me backwards into the ally between the building. 

My mind was flooded with confusion, and fear; who just grabbed me, what the fuck if happening. My mind was running a hundred miles an hour; I was unable to process it.

I was still getting dragged, every step I saw the street lights getting further away and the darkness of the ally taking over my sight. I could hear the husky breathing of the man behind me. 

He pulled me into a corner where there were dumpsters. We weren't in a building but we had cover; no one saw what this man was doing. When we got under he turned me around and slammed my back against the wall, my head smacking the cold concrete. I couldn't see his face, he had a mask; I could see his eyes. 

I know those eyes, I used to see them all the time; those are the eyes that caused me daily pain.

He roughly moved his hand over my shoulder taking off the strap of my tank top. I was throwing my hands scratching down his arm; his skin was underneath my fingernails, "Fucking whore!" 

He hissed through his teeth. He lost patience and held onto my throat, his palm pressing into my windpipe. I couldn't breath only taking very small wheezing breaths.

He used his other hand taking my shirt; with one forceful motion he torn off my top exposing my chest. There were tears flowing down my face, "Plea- please!" I cried out. I kept trying to move from his grip; he threw me to the ground. I scrapped my hands and knees on the pavement. 

I hurried to my feet and grabbed the tin that was on the ground and hit him over the head. I made a run for it, but he dragged me so far down and I didn't have my shoes on. Every step was on rocks and chunks of glass. 

I heard his heavy foot steps behind me and he kicked the back of my leg knocking me to the ground yet again; scraping my shoulders.

He flipped me over on my back and sat on me. His weight keeping me down. I was still tipsy from the drinks that were still setting in; I wasn't as strong. He slapped me across my face stunning me. 

He brought both hands down to my pants and yanked my shorts down. 

They bunched at my ankles and he ripped my underwear off. "Get the fuck off of me!", I screamed laying scratches on his face and trying to gauge his eyes. I would've done anything to make it stop. My mind was filled with what was about to happen. 

Aaron thinks I'm in the hotel room peacefully sleeping; waiting for him crawl into bed with me. 

I knew it was over when I heard the clanking of his belt and his zipper. He was getting ready to... 

The fear I had in that exact moment was paralyzing. 

It felt like I was being tore open, I knew there was blood. He was gripping my thighs leaving dark bruises. I finally gave up, I felt numb. I felt like I was outside my body watching what was happening to me. 

There were tears flowing, I moved my head to the opposite direction of where his face was. I was praying that this was a dream; his face was covered, he wasn't going to kill me. He's gonna leave me with the constant thought of what he was did.

I squeezed my eyes shut, he had complete control over me. No one was coming to help; god I wished someone would. But even if they did the damage was done.

His hands had a frim grip on my arms; his nails digging into my skin drawing blood. He moved his hands to my hips forcing himself into me deeper, a blur covered my vision; I most likely passed out.

When he was done he knew I wasn't going to get up. He threw something over me, I don't remember. After an hour of fading, I slowly regained the strength and will to stand up. I pulled my torn shirt over my chest. I put my shorts on and put my shoes back.

I didn't have my phone with me, all I could do was go back to the hotel. I walked past a gas station and saw it was 2am. I left the club at around 12am. He was attacking me for almost an hour. 

And I did nothing... 

As I walked through the lobby there were eyes. Luckily just a few employees, but they just stared as I walked to the elevator going to my room. Knocking on the door not having my key I waited, I heard steps inside coming towards me. 

"Where the fuck were you!", those were the first words to come out of Aarons mouth he quickly took notice of my appearance and the forming bruises. I didn't hold it against him he didn't see yet, he opened the door wider. 

"Y/n what the fuck, oh my god", he went to go place his hand on me to bring me inside but I flinched away and he backed up. He let me walk in myself as he went to the bed and sat down. 

I closed the door and walked away from him. I stopped crying but there was clear evidence that I had been. My eyes were blood shot, eyes were puffy, and there were streaks of dried tears on my face. 

Once Aaron opened the door and saw my appearance he knew something happened, and he knew the answer. He had seen cases like these before, he knew what they looked like and how the victims acted. He wasn't ready to face the reality.

He sat quietly on the bed and I sat in the chair across the room. I turned it to face him. I was sitting uncomfortably as I could feel the dried cum from between my legs.

"Can you tell me what happened?", my mind lingered on those words; I wanted to tell him. He had to know, I just couldn't meet his eyes. His dominant presence made me fearful. I knew he'd never hurt me but it was the fact... that he was a man. 

We tell rape victims to talk about the trauma; it helps them get through it... to move on. If I didn't take my own advice then how was I going to do it. I gathered the courage.

"I was on my way here, I was grabbed and uh- dragged", my voice was thick. It sounded like I was forcing the words out. I looked up trying to blink away the tears. But they were already falling, "I was forced to the wall, he- he tore off my clothes an- and he started to... touch me." I used my hand to wipe my face; reliving all of it. 

I glanced up to see Aarons face mixed with emotions.

"He started to pull down his pan- pants... he." I couldn't continue. I met Aarons eyes and they were filling with tears. 

They were flooding his face. His eyes were glassy, his pain didn't compare to mine but he was breaking just as much; seeing me like this broke his heart into a million pieces. I sat there crying and he knew I wasn't going to say anymore. 

"Y/n, can I go over to you?", he spoke in the softest voice he possibly could trying to not scare me. I was contemplating and decided against it. Being hesitant; I needed space. I shook my head. 

"Okay that's fine how about I gather some clothes for you... I can leave the room if you want." 

He was doing as much as could to make me feel comfortable. "Don't leave just... please don't", Aaron nodded and started to get me clothes while I walked to the bathroom. It had been 2 hours since the incident and the bruises were more prominent. 

I ran my fingers over them and my heart shattered, never in my life did I think I'd be in this situation.

I didn't tear but there were still blood from the penetration. I wet a rag wiping between my legs, I knew I technically wasn't suppose to wash off evidence I just- I couldn't leave it there.

I heard a soft knock on the door getting me out of my thoughts. "I'm setting your clothes on the bed, I'm going to get some food; if you want you can talk about it more." I took a step towards him.

"Please don't leave me, you can have Spencer get it. I want you to stay with me." Tears were threatening to spill yet again for the 4th time tonight.

"Okay", he left and sat in the corner so he couldn't see me get changed. He texted Reid and when I was done he turned around. 

I was 'clean' but I felt dirty, like trash. Sitting on the bed there was a knock at the door. It was Spencer; Aaron walked to the door and opened it just enough for the bag. "Hotch what's going on?" 

"Reid, not now", he closed the door and returned to the bed but didn't sit. He stood there waiting for me to say he could. "You can", he sat across form me. He handed me my food and I started eating. "Are you sure you wanna talk about it again?" 

"Yeah", I let quietly and he was waiting for me to resume. "When he started to rape me, I gave up fighting when he actually went fully... in. I laid there feeling like I was just a ghost watching. I didn't do anything." I paused, I was upset and getting angry. 

"I didn't do anything Aaron. I was getting raped and I didn't fucking do anything! I laid there taking it, I wanted to die from just fucking that!" They were flowing, I wasn't calming down. I was yelling and sobbing, pacing the room.

"Y/n this isn't your fault you might not have done anything but it definitely.  isn't your fault." He was still speaking softly but at a normal tone, he was getting angry that I was blaming myself but he was trying to not raise his voice.

"Aaron how can I not, I'm the one that didn't stop it. God knows I fucking tried! He held me down! he choked me, hit me." I took a deep breath calming myself down. I looked at him in the eyes. 

"He. had. complete. control over the situation and I had... nothing." My voice returned to normal. Lowering I wasn't yelling it was small.

"And the fact that I knew who did it doesn't make the situation any better." His face fell.

I saw anger flash through his eyes, his jaw clenched and he tightened his fists. "What do you mean you know who did it." His voice waved, he was livid. I knew I had to tell him but he was most likely going to lash out and go after him... with good reason.

"I'm gonna tell you but you need to promise me that you'll keep it together."

"Fine", he hated this whole night. He hated that I made him promise to not go after him.

"It was Mark... my ex. I could tell by the way he spoke and his eyes." He shut his eyes tightly trying to process the words that just left my lips. He knows that he was the one that abused me in the past. Mark was the one that was sending the letters to the house, watching me and Aaron, and now Mark was the one that assaulted me.

Mark was the one to finally pull the supports from my body. My world was close to collapsing but right now Aaron was the only thing keeping me above the ground. 

He waited a few minutes before speaking. He lowered his voice again, "This is what I want you to do. You're gonna tell the team you're not feeling well and we're going to go to the hospital for a rape kit. That's going to prove Mark... raped you and I'm going to arrest his ass." 

"Okay", I stood there leaning against the wall and Aaron sat still on the bed. "Can we go to bed." 

"Yeah", I moved to the bed and Aaron moved to the other side. "Can you sleep on the couch, I want you in here but I just- can't be next to you." 

"I understand, it's fine." He turned off the lights and I gave him a pillow. I laid down, wishing Aaron was holding me but I knew that I would be triggered if he was. I was cold the whole night missing the warmth he brought me and so was Aaron. He wanted to make me feel safe and protected but he also knew that I wouldn't be.

"Love you." I mumbled out. 

"Love you too princess." 

____________________________

@mac99martin  @appleblossoms-posts  @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @oreogutz @marie1115 @wanniiieeee 

[nanoland]

new chapter (supernatural fic)

(Also on AO3.) 

Clean Hands, part 4 

Crowley/Dean Winchester/Castiel 

Warning: Demon deals, violence, mention of abuse and torture. Also: Crowley is an abuse + addiction survivor and also a cold-hearted arsehole with very little respect or empathy for abuse + addiction survivors, and this story is written from his POV. 

0 

What was there to be done when you were enamoured of a man who hit you?

Leave him! the whole world cried back in one voice.

Which was a bit like telling someone trapped in a burning car to get out of the car. Yes. Quite. Thank you. Fully agree. But what if, for a moment, you assumed I wasn’t as stupid as a fucking dog?

That, incidentally, was one of a handful of ways the world had worsened since Crowley last drew breath.

Back in the fourteenth century, the women in the marketplace had noted his black eye and torn dress with immediate understanding. Instead of insisting he pack his bags and walk out of the house belonging to his wealthy shoemaker husband, the father of his child, the man on whom his safety and good reputation and continued ability to eat depended, the man he, for some fucking reason, still loved, they’d actually tried to help.

Sybil had given him willow bark for the pain. Rose had engaged him in long, rambling conversations, stretching the minutes until he had to return home. Jane had walked across the village and rapped on his door every evening she could, always armed with solid excuses, just when the bastard was well and truly in his cups and looking for something to damage.

If ever analytical minds were to try to account for Crowley’s misanthropy and sadism, they couldn’t honestly conclude that either was due to his never experiencing true, heartfelt human kindness.

Yes, Sybil and Rose and Jane had all thought he was a woman and addressed him accordingly, and it had hurt. But that wasn’t their fault. He’d not had the courage to tell them otherwise.

Crowley didn’t regret much. Regret, in this game, was a slow-killing poison.

Still, he did occasionally wonder how things might have turned out if he’d accepted Jane’s invitation and fled with her to London that one warm night, rather than hanging in for years until he finally snapped and beat his husband’s skull into tooth-sized pieces with an iron kettle.

Returning to the present:

As Crowley watched Dean’s fist barrel towards his face, and not for the first time, he reviewed the pros and cons of incinerating him with hellfire.

When fist and nose were one millionth of an inch apart, he teleported across the room.

“Squirrel,” he sighed, “this has nothing to do with you.”

Dean charged and took another swing at him. “Fuck you! He worked so hard! Clean for four years, you piece of shit!”

This time, Crowley reappeared sitting on top of the dead man’s wardrobe, where Dean couldn’t reach him. “Good for him. His family and friends won’t remember him as the thieving, lying wretch he was ten years ago when he sold his soul for a pound of meth. They’ll probably give him a nice funeral.”

“Why couldn’t you make an exception? Just once?”

“That’s not how this works, Dean! It wasn’t even my deal! The contract is in the hands of a relatively inexperienced subordinate and honestly, I’m glad that she pulled it off. She’s got potential. This is her first real win. It’ll increase her standing in Hell and make her more powerful, which will be useful because some older demons have taken to bullying h-…”

“I don’t give a damn about your minions,” he snarled, picking up a lamp sprinkled with blood and throwing it at him. Crowley ducked. “Every last one of you can take an angel blade to the face, for all I care. You’re fucking parasites.”

Evenly, Crowley replied, “Yes. We are. You know that. You’ve always known that. Why are you having a fit about it now? Good people get dragged to Hell all the time.”

Dean stared down at what remained of Martin Booke, now that the hellhounds had left. “He worked so hard. Christ. You could have made an exception. He came to us and I swore I’d help him out.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have cocking well done that, should you?” Crowley cried, throwing up his hands.

Eyes wet, Dean sneered at him. “Parasite. Get out of my sight before I wring your evil neck.”

Crowley left.

Upon arriving back in Hell, he went to the Admissions Department.

The soul of Martin Booke was sitting in one of the cheap blue plastic chairs, knees drawn up to his chest. Probably still reeling from the trauma of the hounds ripping his throat out, though no damage was evident on his form now.

“Mr Booke,” Crowley said, sauntering up with his hands in his pockets. “Could you come with me, please?”

A door appeared in the nearest wall and swung open silently.

Once they were both standing inside Crowley’s office, it swung shut and dissolved into nothingness.

Moving to his liquor cabinet, Crowley said, “I hear you’re a Harvard man.”

“Um… y-yeah. Yes. I was.” Thin voice. Midwestern accent.

“Promising career ahead of you before things – ah – went awry.”

Booke swallowed. “Tom. First boyfriend. Got me into meth. Got me into a lot of stuff. I figured it was okay because we were gonna be together forever and as long as I had him, I’d be fine. Then he went and died and I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Smiling thinly, Crowley said, “Isn’t romance grand? As it happens, you may still get your happily ever after. Thomas Abbott is currently waiting in the eternal queue – which, ordinarily, is where you’d be headed.”

“Yeah. Dean told me. Although… um…”

“You have a question? Spit it out. Cowards bore me.”

“Dean said that when you sell your soul, you go to Hell and demons torture you until you become a demon. But he also told me about the queue thing. So that’s confusing. I mean, queuing sucks but it’s not torture.”

Crowley poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down behind his desk. “Clever boy. Yes; when I became King of Hell, I restructured things. Most of you end up in the queue. The hot knives and whips are a speciality service and, as such, are reserved for our elite clientele. The pedos and Nazis and so forth – and, of course, anyone who pisses me off too much. As for the process of becoming a demon; that doesn’t actually require torture. I know! Surprised me too! We always thought it did, back when Lilith was in charge. Then I started running some tests and it turns out that becoming a demon is a bit like catching a virus; it’ll happen to anyone who hangs around other demons long enough. Everyone in the queue will have black eyes by the end of their first century.”

Booke took off his glasses and nervously rubbed them on his sleeve. “You said that ‘ordinarily’ I’d go to the queue. So am I an – uh – ‘elite client’?”

“Hah! No. Your little life was staggeringly boring and barely impacted anyone in ways either negative or positive. No, the reason you’re here is Harvard. See, I had a snoop and it seems that before you dropped out, you were getting bloody good grades.”

A wistful smile. “I guess. Had big dreams, once.”

Sipping his bourbon, Crowley said, “On track for a Master’s in aeronautical engineering, I believe.”

“Yep. I wanted to work for NASA.”

“Cards on the table, Booke: I might have a job for you. There is, at present, space in one or two of our departments for a man with your talents. But first I need to ask a question.”

He cocked his head. “Um. Sure? Anything’s better than what I was expecting. Shoot.”

“Do you know how to crash a spaceship?”

[peachywise]

Falling With You

steve harrington x reader

– one-shot

– synopsis: You were the best babysitter ever. Who else would take the kids to an abandoned hospital? It’s just too bad Steve Harrington doesn’t think the same. (age; 17-18) (au where you’re will and jonathan’s sibling) 

– notes: so this is pure fluff and i don’t think i edited it that well, but I HOPE YOU ENJOY, as always theres a slight swear warning, and i guess an accident tw?? the reader hurts their leg a bit. let a gal know if you want to be added to the tag list!! 

You were the best god damn baby sitter ever.

For about two weeks, your little brother Will has been talking about an abandoned old hospital about an hour out of town. It was small, not a massive structure, and you knew it wasn’t unheard of for some people to go out there at night and explore. Will and his friends had wanted to go so bad, but the only possible way they could get there by themselves was with their bikes which would take a while. Since Jonathan was the only one with a car, they had asked him to take them, but he quickly rejected that idea. Apparently, it was too dangerous. What an uptight loser.

But of course, being the better sibling, you had no reservations about taking them. You just needed the right opportunity. And finally, it had come.

Today was the day you got to babysit the gang. Jonathan had gotten news the day before that he had to take an emergency shift when Joyce was also working. You were quick to offer your very free baby sitting services to make sure they wouldn’t call Steve Harrington to take over. There wasn’t any need for that Farrah Fawcett hair wannabe. He’d spoil the fun.

Just last night you had borrowed Jonathan’s car to scope out the hospital. You had said you were just going over to Nancy’s house to study, but that was a blatant lie. Really, you just wanted to make sure there weren’t any weird things lying about the old place, and to get a lay of the land so you wouldn’t get lost leading them around. You weren’t as uptight as your brother or Steve, but you still gave a damn about their safety.

But now? Now it was time to let them know the good news. Making your way into the dining room area, where Mike, Max, Dustin, Lucas, El, and Will were all crowded around talking over one another in a flurry of words you couldn’t understand, you unceremoniously smashed the car keys you had hidden from Jonathan this morning (making him walk to work), and yelled out, “who’s ready to go to the doctors?”

All you got in return was a collective stare of confusion from the kids. Maybe that wasn’t as clever as you thought.

Clearing your throat slightly, you tried to nonchalantly twirl the key ring around your finger as you stated, “we’re going to go to that abandoned hospital while it’s still light out, get your butts in the car.” You had never heard such a chorused reaction. Will smiled brightly as he raised his fist in the air excitedly, looking towards Dustin and Lucas who both chattered excitedly. Max seemed indifferent, but you easily knew she was just as excited as they were. El just looked at Mike, who stared at you and said the obvious, “all of us aren’t going to fit in the car.” Dustin let out a long groan of, “come on, Mike.”

“You guys are small, and it’s only a short ride. Two of you can sit in the front, and four of you can squish in the back. As long as you don’t tell your parents,” you said pointedly, glaring your eyes playfully at your little brother, “then I don’t see much of an issue.” As reserved as Mike still seemed, everyone was already up and moving out the door so he really couldn’t argue. Patting his back gently, you muttered, “don’t worry so much, El will protect you from any big bad we may find,” before skipping out the door with the rest of them, just as excited.

As soon as you stepped outside, Dustin, Lucas, and Will were all fighting for shot gun on the front porch. “Why don’t you guys just rock, paper, scissors for it?” you offered, as you popped open the driver’s side of Jonathan’s beat up car. As the boys proceeded to just that, you gave a knowing nod at Max who quickly scurried into the middle passengers seat and shut the door. You heard Dustin exclaim, “that’s not fair,” as you gave a conspiring grin to the red-headed girl.

As the rest of the kids climbed in the car, Lucas seemingly winning the coveted final shot-gun spot, you double checked to see that everyone was safe and secure before pulling out of the gravel lot and driving off.

The trip ended up being a bit shorter than an hour, thank God for that. Being in a cramped car with a bunch of noisy preteens turned out to be not the most enjoyable experience. Especially since you had to pull over the car twice for Dustin who had to go to the bathroom. What kind of mutant bladder did that kid even have?

By the time you had pulled the car into a small dirt lot walking distance the hospital, you were so close to ripping Jonathan’s steering wheel out and hurdling it into the back seat at them. Instead, you went the moral route. “Hey!” you shouted, clapping your hands for added dramatic effect. They all quickly quieted down and stared at you with wide eyes. “Be careful while we’re in they’re alright? Don’t separate from the group, and we have to be out before it get’s dark. Got it?”

Lucas was the first to speak up, adding “but what if—”

You raised your hand up to cut him off. “Nope. Those are the rules.” The group collectively muttered various agreements, as everyone scrambled out of the car. Stretching your limbs out, you turned to glance down at your little brother who’s eyes were glued to the street. “Will, what’s up?”

Turning his attention towards you, his eyebrows were slightly creased. “Uh, no, it’s nothing. I just thought I saw Steve’s car behind us for a while there.” Oh no. Oh shit. “You thought you saw Steve’s car?” you questioned carefully, gripping both of his shoulders and holding on for dear life. “Yeah! But no one’s here, someone must have had a similar car…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering to look over your shoulder again. His face dropped a bit.

Turning to look over your own shoulder with a slowness and anticipation only seen in horror movies, you let out a long breath as you noticed a very familiar car pull into the lot. “Here comes dad, everyone” you muttered out loud. Dustin stifled back a snorted laugh.

Letting go of Will, you moved him a little behind you as if to block him from view of the fight that was inevitable about to happen. Such innocent eyes shouldn’t have to bear witness to something that was going to be so utterly disappointing.

“What do you guys think you’re doing here,” Steve’s demanding voice rung out as he opened his car door, swinging it shut behind him in an almost theatrical motion. He planted his hands on his hips. Here we go.

“Have you taken up stalking now, Harrington?” you questioned with a quirked smirk, stepping up to the boy who was dressed in some sort of gym uniform. Must have had basketball practice or something. Not that you noticed what he did in his spare time. Nope.

“Stalking?” He sputtered out in a bit of shock, before trying to cover it up with a laugh of disbelief. “No. I went to your house to give Dustin the hat he forgot in my car since I knew he was there, but instead I saw someone cramming six kids into one small car,” he accused pointedly. Fair.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you inquired defensively, “so what? You just decided to follow us? Steve, you really should get a hobby.”

It seemed that pinched a nerve. Good.

Making a scoffing noise, Steve stepped closer to you as if to intimidate you. It didn’t work. “I was going to offer to drive some of them to wherever the hell you were going if I caught up to you, but I didn’t think you were going to this freaking death trap!” You gave a small fake yawn, as Max mumbled behind you, “this is getting boring.” You agreed.

“Seriously, we’re going back, get in” Steve continued, as he marched his way over to his car and opened up the back seat door, pointing inside like some lame ass admiral. No one made any effort to move as he just gave a stern look back. After about a half a minute long stare down, all he did was breathe out a frustrated, “really?”

Rolling your eyes, you walked up to his car and slammed his door shut. “You can leave if you want, Steve. It’s alright. We know you don’t like fun,” you smiled as you brushed past him, Lucas giving a small ‘ooo’ sound as you did. “Come on guys, let’s go ghost hunting,” you cheerfully stated, wrapping your arm around Will’s shoulder as the small group began to make their way down the trail. You heard gravel moving behind you as if Steve was pacing, but after about a minute, his steps caught up to you.

Dropping your arm away from your brother, Steve was quick to grip it and stop you in your tracks. “What now?” you bit out, turning to face his hard look. Dang. Intense looked kind of good on him.

“Come on, are we going or not?” Mike pressed as he turned to look at you two from the head of the trail. Sighing, you shrugged your arm from Steve and ordered, “just follow the trail and we’ll catch up. Don’t go in without us.” Will was the only one who seemed slightly hesitant, but a tiny smile at your brother seemed to reassure him enough as he moved along with the rest of his friends.

“Do you even know what could be in there? Squatters. Dangerous medical equipment. Murderers!” Steve exclaimed, as he actually threw his hands up into the air. Wow. You’d never seen anyone actually do that before. “You really think that lowly of me? Steve, I was here last night. Other than a few old structures, it’s safe. It’s pretty much gutted,” you commented honestly. You were more hurt than anything at his lack of trust in you. You were only a year younger than him, and had taken care of the kids countless times. “We’re only going to be here for an hour or two, tops. Besides, I have my pocket knife on me,” you added with a shrug of your shoulders.

“You have a what?!” He hollered out. Mmm. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned that.

Poking his chest, he stumbled back a bit as you glared up at the taller boy. “Oh don’t you judge me, Steve Harrington. Are you telling me that if I go look in the trunk of your car right now, I won’t find that nail bat in there?” you gritted out, as his eyes seemed genuinely a little stunned. He sat there stuttering for a second, as if unsure what to say, but still wanting to prove he was right. In the end he gave up. Sweet victory.

“Okay. Fine,” he sighed.

For a beat, you two just stood their eyeing each other down, but it was broken all too soon when he hesitantly asked, “do you mind if we go back so I can grab it?” You didn’t even try to stop the laughter that busted out of you. He just gave you a dirty look as you tried to calm yourself down enough to smile and say, “yeah we can go get it.” 

By the time you two had finally made it to the front entrance of the small, three story hospital, the kids were no where in sight. Oops. 

“Perfect. This is great!” Steve chastised, turning to give you a disapproving look. Oh no. He wasn’t pinning this on you. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t shown up and needed to get that stupid bat of yours!” you shot back, stomping up the steps of the hospital and swinging open the rickety, pale green door. Shit. They weren’t even inside the entrance. Where the hell could they have gone? 

“This bat isn’t stupid, and it’s sure as hell better than whatever crappy little switch blade you have with you.” You gasped in fake melodramatic shock, whirling to look back at him. “Well,” you breathed, trying to come up with another comeback. You came up flat as you weakly retorted, “I have better hair than you.” Steve just chuckled, bumping his shoulder into yours as he passed by with a bored, “we both know that isn’t true.” Yeah. He was right, But you wouldn’t admit it. 

Dragging your hands down your face, you span around the dirty area in frustration. “Maybe we should just split up and look for them? You take one side, I’ll take the other?” Steve quickly shot that idea down as he said, “Uh, no. Splitting up is the worst thing we can do. We should wait here until they get back.” 

“Well that’s a stupid idea too,” you mumbled, as you began to walk up the eastern corridor, not even waiting for Steve. They weren’t some lost kids in a grocery store. He just let out an aggravated groan before catching up to you.

You began to search rooms in a somewhat comfortable silence, making a passing comment here or there about how weird the place was or pointing out any sign that one of the kids had passed by. You half suspected them of playing some twisted game of hide and seek being how quiet they all were, but before you had time to propose such a theory, Steve spoke first. 

“So why did you take them here?” Turning to give him a look that you hope read ‘don’t argue with me again or I’ll use your own bat against you’, he lifted his one free hand in feigned innocence. “Just curious.” 

Studying him for a moment, you let your guard down a tiny bit as you began poking around in a large room you once suspected was an emergency ward. “Will had mentioned it a few times. I knew that if I didn’t take them, they’d end up just finding a way to get here themselves,” you stated truthfully, as you moved a squeaky curtain from side to side. Steve stepped behind it, and as you moved it away to reveal his face, he contorted his features into a goofy look. With a grin, you laughed and gave him a playful push away. Stepping back out of the room to continue the search, you continued, “anyways, I thought it’d be kind of fun. They seemed really excited about it.” 

He nodded along, glancing down at you as you walked side by side. “Makes sense. Those weirdos would have ridden their bikes down here,” he offered, as you both laughed at the image. Yeah, that would have been pretty bad. 

Moving into the next space, you noted how the wooden floor creaked under you. Too bad you needed to cross it to get the next corridor. Turning to warn Steve to walk across it one at a time, unsure it would support both of your weight, your hypothesis was unfortunately proved correct as he stepped on the floor after you and it cracked and began to cave in. Letting out a small yelp of surprise as you started to fall through, you shut your eyes tightly, bracing for impact. You barely registered the deep shout of your name as hands wrapped around you, pressing your body hard against theirs, head nestled to their chest.

Blinking open your eyes as a severe pain radiated through your leg, you winced under the uncomfortable feeling of whatever you landed on. It looked to be a bunch of boxes. Thank fuck they weren’t filled with used needles or something.

Feeling one of the hands around your waist clutch tighter, you tried to wriggle your way out of Steve’s death grip. “Y/N, are you okay?” he moaned, as he rolled over to flop off the cushion of boxes, and on to the cement floor. Could have been worse. He could have still been holding his nail bat. 

Trying to move yourself to the ground to join him, you had to stop as any sort of shift in your leg caused a sharp shooting pain that almost made you bite the inside of your cheek off. Not good. Not good at all.

“My leg kind of hurts,” you underplayed with a wince, as Steve struggled to get himself off the ground to stand up. You felt a small blush rise to your cheeks as the bottom half of his shirt lifted when he stretched up, revealing a bit of his abs. Man, did he have those all along? 

“Bend down, let me see if you have any cuts or anything,” you motioned, just about ready to make this bed of boxes your new home. Not like you were moving anytime soon. 

“Bend down?” He asked a little confused, as he did just that. But instead of showing you his face, he simply moved to inspect your leg. What a little asshole. “How much does your leg hurt, Y/N?” He questioned, as he moved your pant leg up a bit. To try and stop yourself from yelling out in pain at the sudden motion, you slammed your hand down on the box and squeaked out a totally normal sounding, “not that bad.” Super subtle. 

“Sounds like it,” he muttered, as he moved one of his hands to your back and the other arm under your legs. This time you didn’t hold back the painful cry you let out, as he picked you up princess style. You didn’t know what was more painful, your leg, or your embarrassment. 

“Put me down!” you complained, as Steve tried to shift you into a more comfortable position as he carried you gently across the room. “Calm down,” he gritted out, as he tried his best to sit on the floor cross-legged, setting you on his lap while still cradling you. Oh God, you were going to die down here. You were going to die cradled in Steve’s arms, smelling like old dried up hospital and residual Farrah Fawcett hairspray. 

“Steve, please, I’m begging you put me on the ground,” you complained, tensing up at how weird the situation was. Even he was avoiding eye contact. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with your leg, but this way it won’t shift,” he stated, his hands slightly moving down your back.

Slumping a bit in his arms, you turned your head to look down at your folded hands, fighting the rising heat spreading to your cheeks. You couldn’t come up with an argument to fight his reason.

After about five minutes of absolute silence, Steve whistled under his breath. Yeah, no, you couldn’t just sit around and wait like this. “Uhm, should we yell out or something? I’m sure one of them is bound to hear,” you mumbled, clearing your throat as you glanced up at his face. He looked down, and it was like you finally just noticed how close you two really were. Oh no. 

“Uh, yep. Probably a good idea,” he agreed a little softly, as neither of you made any motion to open your mouths and actually yell anything out. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Steve quickly asked, as you cocked your head to the side a bit. You had no idea where this was headed. “Yeah, sure,” you replied, studying his features as he seemed to be struggling with his words. Smiling a little, you teasingly said, “not like I’m going anywhere anyways.” He visibly relaxed.

“You said something before about how I think lowly of you,” he started, as he looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling where you guys fell, breaking eye contact. You weren’t sure you were going to like this conversation. “Is that really what you think?” 

“Yes,” you replied, before quickly changing the answer to, “no. I’m not really sure. You just seem to treat me like one of the kids a lot, like I’m irresponsible. I don’t think you trust me, is all.” 

Immediately, his eyes found yours again, shock written all over his face. “No, no you have that all wrong!” He countered, with just a touch of panic in his voice. Giving him a slightly curious gaze, he seemed to be searching your face for something as he continued, “it’s not that at all.” You weren’t particularly sure what to reply to that, but as his wandering eyes settled to look at your lips, you weren’t sure you’d have to. 

Lowering his head, Steve hesitantly pressed his lips against yours in the most soft, tentative kiss. It lasted only a moment before he pulled back, but you instinctively moved your head forward, already missing it. 

His hand tightened a little on your back, as he waited for your reaction with an anxious look. You said the first thing that came to your still hazy mind. 

“So you don’t think I’m a bad babysitter?” 

A beat passed as you both stared at one another in silence, but as a snort escaped you, you both bursted into loud laughter. Covering your face with your hands, you bent down to nestle your head under the crook of his neck, slightly embarrassed. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he continued to laugh, with a little bit of smugness laced in his tone. Shifting to look back at him, you shook your head in disbelief as you stated, “then we have to do a better job than that.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him back fervently. This one was a bit more deep and intense, and holy hell, you would curl your toes if it didn’t hurt so god damn much. 

As you tangled your fingers through his silky hair, you nearly melted when a soft moan escaped him, and suddenly, the whole falling through the floor situation didn’t seem as bad. 

“Eww, I don’t want to see that!” 

Yeah, suddenly it was much, much worse. 

Breaking apart, you turned to look up to where your brother Will was poking his head through the giant hole, the rest of the kids soon following suite. Steve in a jerk reaction let go on his hold on you, and you tumbled on to the floor in an aching heap as a result.

Ignoring the rebirth of pain in your leg, you and Steve both shouted out, “don’t tell your parents what happened!” at the same time. 

– General Tags (sorry this isn’t IT y’all, let me know if you want to be just tagged in IT/ST general tags or both): @multi-parker @stan-the-losers-club-man @ubertrashmouth @this-cute-shit-xo @breederofguilt @babylovereddie @derrydenbrough 

[this-is-big-lady]

Swipe Right part 6/10

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, can be found on AO3 here

Hey all! Full time work has been kicking my ass, so this took longer than I would’ve liked, but it’s here now! Also, this is my first time writing a Jewish character talking about their Judaism - please, if I have anything wrong, flick me a polite message or direct me in the way of resources and I will be ever grateful for your kindness. 

After passing texts backwards and forwards between him and Jack, Davey found himself at Jack’s apartment in the afternoon of a day not too long after their coffee date. He was ready for his portrait to be drawn, perched on a small stool a couple of arm lengths in front of Jack, who had a little table set up in front of him. The flat surface on top was angled down towards him with a piece of A3 paper laid out, and a collection of pencils, sharpeners, and erasers in his lap. Jack’s phone was propped up on a small shelf behind him. He explained to Davey that he’d record the session so that if he missed anything important, he could go back to it later to draw inspiration from the recording. Jack asked his subject to angle himself slightly to his left on the stool and to relax - Davey was picking at his fingernails, and if he was as tense as he looked, Jack would have a hard time getting information out of him.

Soon the silence between the pair was filled with a gentle scratching sound from the pencil on the paper, and Davey looked around Jack’s apartment. It wasn’t huge, but it was cozy - a typical student place. They were currently in the living room, Jack sitting on a couch with a few stains and rips, and Davey’s stool was purloined from his roommate’s bedroom. Did he really say that his roommate’s name was Spot? Surely Davey wasn’t hearing him correctly. There was a window to his left where the afternoon sun was streaming in, and the curtains appeared a little worse for wear. The shelf behind the couch with Jack’s phone had a few political science textbooks - presumably Spot’s - and the walls were dotted with various drawings and paintings - presumably Jack’s.

Jack could see Davey’s eyes gliding around the room, and while Jack was trying to get a rough outline of Davey and his features, it was a little distracting. So he tried to get him to settle down the only way he knew how, talking.

“So, Davey…” The boy was snapped out of his observations by Jack’s voice, replying with a soft ‘hmm’ sound to show that he was somewhat paying attention. “I’ll ask you what I ask all my subjects. Why’d you join tinder?”

Davey balked a little at the question, slightly surprised at exactly how forward Jack was with it. He rubbed a hand across his face to hide how awkward he was feeling from the artist currently studying his facial features. “I mean, I guess there were a few reasons, if you want a list?”

“Sure,” Jack said flippantly, frustrating Davey slightly with exactly how nonchalant he was with this whole situation. “Well, I guess I was relatively lucky because I have a pretty accepting family, but we’re also Jewish, so there was a bit of a conflict between the Jewish and gay elements of my identity-“

“Lets start there. If your family was accepting, where exactly did that conflict come from?

“We’re Reform Jews, so my family and community didn’t have a problem with me liking boys - my synagogue back home even has a lesbian rabbi - but it’s not uncommon to see people in the media twisting and interpreting holy text to support homophobia.” Davey carded a hand through his hair, tugging at it a little harder than he normally would. Why did he have to start with the topic that hit closest to home? He glanced over at Jack, who had his head down sketching furiously, or maybe he was writing words? All he could do was take a deep breath, drop his hand back into this lap, and carry on.

“And I guess being shown those perspectives every day through social media took a toll, and I probably internalised some of it along the line. That I, to some extent, expect people to do that. And even though I had an amazing support system, knowing that other people out there could use something really important to me as a way to devalue me can really hurt.” Jack’s pencil stopped skidding across the paper, and he looked up to face Davey. His eyes were honest, he was actually listening to what Davey had to say, and he could feel the breath catch in his throat at the end of his sentence.

“But as I got older I saw that my Judaism and being gay didn’t have to be seperate parts of me, they could totally interact - I’m pretty happy to say that I’m a gay Jew now. So I guess by using a dating app, I hoped I wouldn’t be interacting with people trying to pit the two against each other. I mean, I’m yet to meet any antisemitic people on tinder, but you’re also the first person I’ve met on it, so I’m one for one so far.”

Jack let out a little huff of laughter, putting down his pencil, and leaning over his table a little as he made eye contact with Davey. “That’s very true, and thank you for being so honest with me.” Jack’s easy smile was infectious, making Davey’s nerves settle down and allowing a small grin to spread across Davey’s face. “You said you had a whole list, hit me with something else.”

The pencil Jack was holding was being chewed on by its owner as Davey racked his mind for some of the other reasons. “I’m quite introverted, you know? And I guess I never really felt comfortable dating back home. Like I knew almost everyone my age in my area because we went to school together and the idea of dating someone in that tight-knit community just made me… nervous, I suppose. As did approaching someone I didn’t know, kind of a catch-22 I guess.” Jack chuckled softly at Davey’s involuntary shiver as he talked about his discomfort. It was pretty cute, if Jack was to be honest. “So I would rather be able to chat with new people with some slight veil of anonymity and see if I’d actually like to talk with them in person. Being able to connect with people from the comfort of my phone before actually meeting them makes me far more content with the idea of dating. Just… talking to people is scary.”

Davey ducked his head a little, staring at his hands in his lap. He knew it was silly: here he was, talking to a guy he met of tinder about why he was scared to talk to guys. He found the dirt buried under his fingernail very fascinating to pick at until Jack brought him back to his attention with a gentle repetition of his name. “I totally get it, Davey. Why do you think I ask people to sit for these drawings on the internet, rather than approaching people on the street? It’s easier, I understand. You ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of with me.” A small smile spread across Davey’s face, which eased Jack’s mind in knowing that he was being of some sort of help to his subject. And gave him enough courage to ask a niggling question at the back of his mind. “So then why did you choose to meet up with me, Davey?”

Davey’s eyes locked with his, and muttered a barely audible sentence that caused Jack’s heart to start hammering: “I just knew I had to meet you.”

A few moments of silence passed as both boys processed the implications of that sentence. Was it some of of simple attraction, love-at-first-sight kind of phenomenon? Or could there have been a more heavy spark between the two, an intangible sense of feeling what was to come, and the resultant revelation in hindsight? Neither party could say. But they enjoyed toying with the possibilities.

Davey had had enough time in the spotlight, it was his turn to spin this onto the artist. “So Jack,” he began, “why did you join Tinder?”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Davey’s change in tact, he was too smart to just let this whole session be about him. But Jack still needed to get a sketch done, so he gave Davey the abridged version. “Well, I’m bisexual, and I liked Tinder because it meant I could put it flat out in my profile and didn’t have to deal with coming out to people. And it meant I could see both men and women together, it just made life easier.” Jack’s gaze drifted down from Davey’s actual face in front of him to the sketch of Davey’s face lying on the table, meaning he missed Davey’s excited smile at hearing Jack was definitely into guys. Jack shrugged as he continued, “And I mean it’s good for casual sex, but I’ve met some pretty cool people on there too… Some that I hope that I could consider a friend.” Jack knew that already thinking of Davey as someone that he could get close to after only a few days was dangerous, but  he didn’t really mind. There was something about Davey being reserved but so willing to be open with him that pulled Jack in, and he wanted to know more about the guy whose profile made him genuinely intrigued about the person behind it.

Quickly leaning towards Jack, Davey simply answered Jack’s sentence with, “Me too, Jack. Me too.”

The pair fell into silence as Jack finished off the portrait of Davey, but they asked questions of the other when they popped into their heads. As it turned out, Davey hadn’t been to a service since moving to college - he’d yet to find a synagogue that was both close enough to his apartment and that he felt comfortable in. Jack was adopted by a local theatre artist after his parents died in a car crash when he was 7, and his roommate Spot (his correct name, another shock for Davey) is his adoptive brother too. Davey considered taking a gap year to England before college. Jack dyed his hair blonde for a year in high school, but stopped after he burnt it all off one morning when retouching his roots while hungover.

When Jack’s pencil finally stopped scratching across the pencil, the sun that was stretching across the floor had disappeared behind an adjacent building and Davey could feel his bones stiffening from sitting upright on the stool for hours on end. Jack leaned back into the couch, sighing with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I’m done, ol’ Davey boy!”

Davey just groaned, leaning forward to push himself up to standing, hearing a couple of joints click as he did so. He could help but wonder exactly how Spot could ever want to use that stool for more than chucking dirty clothes on top of it. Davey took a step towards Jack, asking if he could see the drawing. Jack snatched the paper off the table and gently help it facing towards his chest, insisting that he couldn’t see it until it was done. After a bit of moaning and whining on Davey’s part (he just wanted to see how Jack saw him, was that such a crime?), his stomach decided to let out a rather loud growl. Realising that they both skipped dinner because of the portrait sitting, Davey took that as his cue to say goodnight to Jack and to go find some food for himself.

Jack walked him to the door, and leaned against the door frame to say goodbye. He quickly reached out to brush his hand against Davey’s wrist, both boys staring down at the point of contact between the two of them. It didn’t feel like sparks, or electricity between the two of them, but more like a comfortable warmth. Like when you’re leaning against a sunny window in summer, or like slipping into a item of clothing after it’s just come out of the drier. It just felt right.

“Thanks for doing a sitting and being so honest with me, Davey. I, uh, really enjoyed it.” Jack’s eyes were still cast downwards in an attempt to hide his blush. Being honest with his emotions always scared Jack a little, while Davey thought it was incredibly endearing. The taller moved shifted his arm so he gently held Jack’s forearm, insisting that he had an equally great time, and couldn’t wait until he saw the finished product. Davey dropped his hand from Jack’s arm, turning towards the door and reaching towards the doorknob, but froze before he could turn it.

Because Jack’s placed a very soft kiss on Davey’s cheek. It was light, gentle, and barely there, and yet it was. As soon as Davey felt the pressure on his cheek, it was gone, but the way his heart soared was unmistakable. He turned with a stunned expression towards Jack, with whom he locked eyes in an instant.

“Text me when you get home safe,” he insisted, his eyes displaying an honestly and vulnerability that made Davey melt. Not trusting his voice to not betray him, Davey just smiled and nodded, before slipping out onto the doorstep and closing the door behind him.

[justtextmeoppa]

❝ How long have you both been dating? ❞

Plot: Siwon is your cousin and he's a little protective over you. Siwon had warned you not to date any of the Super Junior member but you did anyway and he later finds out.

Pairing: Siwon x Reader

Words count: 2,9k+

Genre: Comedy, slight angst and drama

For anon , I hope you like it ^^

kyu.

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner!

‘Change!’ A voice rang through the apartment.

‘Why!?’ You argued back, ‘I think I look perfectly fine.’

Choi Siwon was every women’s dream, yet he was a pain in your ass. Matter of fact, he was your cousin and an over protective cousin at that. He would monitor everything you wore, who you were with and where you went. He had been away during his enlistment, so you had a bit more freedom since he was not there to be overly protective. You missed him a lot since he left because he was like your brother and best friend. Siwon had one rule, a rule that stuck since you met the rest of the boys years back and that was; no dating the members.

‘She looks fine Oppa.’ Jiwon tried to reason, ‘She is 28 years old, not 8.’

‘Don’t take her side.’ He scolded, ‘You are my sister!’

‘And I understand that, but she is a grown woman, Siwon. You can’t protect her for the rest of your life.’ Jiwon tried to reason.

‘Sorry to break this up,’ You waved a hand between the siblings fighting, ‘But did it ever occur to you that we are going to be late?’

‘Exactly, now go change!’ He pointed towards the door that was your bedroom.

‘No time, lets go!’ You dragged them both out the house.

You wore a simple black skirt with stockings and a white shirt that was tucked in. Your hair flowed naturally and you wore a pair of pumps. You thought you looked fine but Siwon found the shirt to see-through, skirt short and your hair should be tied up. Throughout the entire drive he scolded you and his sister tried to reason with him. You all were on your way to see Donghae and Hyukjae. They had returned from their enlistment and you all wanted to celebrate. Just them and their close ones. Arriving at SM, you three walked to a room that had been reserved for the little welcome back party.

‘Stay close to me.’ Siwon warned.

‘But I want to socialise.’

‘With me around!’

‘You are frustrating.’ You rolled your eyes and walked towards the guests of honour,’ Donghae! Hyukjae!’

The rapper had you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and twirling you around, ‘Y/N!’

‘Take your hands off her, Lee Hyukjae!’ Siwon stormed into the situation and ripped you away from Hyukjae.

‘Still over protective as ever.’ Hyuk chuckled as Donghae came to hug you but was closely observed by his fellow member.

‘Watch those hands Lee Donghae.’ He eyed them.

‘Let’s get a drink.’ You all but signed in relief when you saw Jiwon drag her brother away.

‘I assume you haven't told him.’ Donghae nudged you.

‘I value my life.’

‘You have to tell him sooner or later.’

‘And I pick later.’

‘Y/N!’ A voice shouted from a distance.

‘Looks like lover boy is here,’ Hyukjae placed an arm around Donghae’s shoulder, ‘Let’s give them some privacy.’

The two walked away to talk to other people as another came and enveloped you in a hug, kissing your cheek. This person was your boyfriend, Kim Heechul and your boyfriend of a year and a half. Yeah, you were told to not date any of the members but Heechul was just different. You grew closer to him as the years went by and when Siwon enlisted, the two of you dated a few months before becoming official, not that anyone knew but only a few people. Heechul was your boyfriend and also a close friend. You told him everything and he was always there for you.

‘Where’s your security guard?’ Heechul joked.

‘Jiwon took him to cool off with something to drink.’ You laughed as Heechul draped an arm around you, ‘I would watch yourself tonight, he seems to be on overdrive.’

‘I can handle Choi Siwon.’ Chul grinned.

And on queue, his name rang out, ‘KIM HEECHUL!’

‘Here we go.’ You sighed.

Siwon and his sister were just a few meters away from you and your boyfriend. The younger stormed through the crowd of people as Heechul continued to stand with his arm proudly around your shoulder. As Siwon got closer, Heechul slowly retreated his arm because he knew you didn't wish to tell your cousin yet. You wanted this to be a secret because you knew Siwon would be mad, and you didn't want to ruin everyone's evening. Siwon stood before the two of you, his eyes ready to commit murder.

‘And where do you think your arm was?’ He question.

‘Calm down horse,’ Heechul stated, ‘I was just talking to her.’

‘With your arm around her?’

‘She is my friend, ya know.’

‘That means nothing to me and you know that.’ Siwon wedged himself between the two of you, ‘Keep your intimate gestures to yourself.’

‘She is 28, Siwon!’ Heechul scolded.

‘I don’t care.’ With that, your cousin guided you to the dance floor.

Some soft music was playing through the speakes. So many times you wished to tell Siwon about Heechul, but you never seemed to have the perfect time. Right now you stood swaying to the music, your cousin in front of you and your boyfriend off at the side. You wanted to tell him now but you didn't now how Siwon would react. He was generally a level headed man, but you had kept this for such a long time that you knew he wouldn't react in a rational way. Meanwhile Heechul glanced at the two of you.

He wanted to tell Siwon so many times, but you asked him not to. Yeah he was jealous of Siwon, not because he was you cousin but because he could be more free with you. He wasn't even allow to touch you without the younger breathing down his neck. Heechul in general was a sassy man and spoke his mind, but you were worth more then using his sharp tongue and ruining everything. His hands formed fists as he rushed out the room. You caught him running out from the corner of your eye and you felt you heart shudder slightly. Releasing yourself from his hold, you walked to grab Yoona.

‘Please dance with him.’ You whispered to her.

‘Go,’ She replied, ‘He looks more upset then ever tonight, I will handle Won.’

‘Thank you.’ You hugged her before she walked to entertain your cousin.

You ran through the SM halls looking for him. You thought of everything possible, from the dance studios to the recording rooms. You opened every door and shouted his name as if you were insane. Finally clicking, you took the elevator to the highest floor it could go before walking two more flights of stairs and arriving on the roof. As if you planned the situation, you walked onto the roof and found Heechul looking out into the distance. He stood with his hands in his pockets with his back towards you.

‘You are going to get sick.’ You softly spoke.

‘Then go downstairs,’ His words cold, ‘Your cousin must be ripping the building apart looking for you.’

‘I asked Yoona to cover for me.’ You stood behind him, hand on his shoulder, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t do this anymore, Y/N.’ He didn't look at you, ‘I hate having to hide you.’

‘I know that,’ You made him face you, ‘And we will tell him, just not now.’

‘And why not?!’

‘Because….. I ….. I don’t know.’

Heechul crashed his lips into yours, kissing you with so much need that when he pulled way and pressed his forehead to yours, you were panting hard, ‘I don’t like hiding you, like we are standing on a roof just so your psychotic cousin doesn't loose his mind.’

You chuckled softly, ‘You lucky he didn't see you kiss me, would have probably tossed you of the roof.’

‘Probably…’ A voice whispered from the door, ‘You are dead Kim Heechul.’

You remain on the roof for another thirty minutes not aware that Siwon had seen the moment. He had retreated back downstairs, not wanting to cause a scene. You and Heechul soon joined the party. Siwon acted as if he saw nothing, but his over protectiveness seemed to intensify. You didn't understand why but you didn't want to cause any issues. The evening ended on a good note, with Siwon inviting all the members to his place on Sunday before returning to his service on Monday. You stayed the night at his place, waking up to more male voices than usual. Stretching, you tied your hair up and walked to the kitchen.

‘Morning Y/N!’ Leeteuk greeted.

‘Morning Jungsu.’ You smiled, ‘Aren’t you all here too early?’

‘Have you seen the time?’ The leader joked, pointing at the clock on the wall.

‘Shit!’ Your eyes widen to see how late it was.

‘Watch your language.’ Siwon scolded, ‘Go upstairs and shower, you aren't dressed appropriately.

He was referring to your short sleeping shorts and loose sleeping top. This wasn't the first time you were seen like this because the others were like your brothers, but Siwon’s tone wasn't like before. It was more of a stern order then anything else. Before you could argue back, he shouted at you and chased you away. Not wanting to cause a scene, you went upstairs to shower. Siwon never raised his voice at you. But you just went and got ready.

‘Don’t you think that was a bit harsh?’ Heechul tired to defend you.

‘No one asked you.’ Siwon went back to doing his things.

‘That is why I am voicing my opinion.’ Heechul stood up for himself, ‘I am still your elder, watch your tone Choi Siwon.’

‘And this is my house,’ He turned to face the elder, ‘So let me be or leave, the door is that way.’

Leeteuk quickly intervened and created peace between the two of them. Everything became awkward very quickly that when you walked in, you noticed the tension. It was so strong that you could cut it clean with a knife. You wore a pair of shorts with a white t-shirt and long checkered shirt over it. Your hair was pulled back into a bun. Siwon had one look at you and he had mad written all over his face.

‘Go and change!’ He barked.

‘Why?’ You asked, ‘I look fine.’

‘Because your shorts are too short.’ He pointed as you rolled your eyes, ‘Don’t you roll your eyes at me!’

‘These are the same length as what your female artists wear!’ You tired to rebel as everyone watched the family members argue.

‘And that is how I know its too short!’ He fumed.

‘She looks fine Siwon!’ Heechul cut in, ‘She is a grown woman!’

‘Stay out of this Heechul.’

‘Show some respect you punk!’

Within a heartbeat, Siwon had Heechul by the throat and pinned up against the wall. The younger had a look in his eyes that Heechul had never seen before. It was something of irritation, lack of sleep and anger. Siwon had never snapped at anyone before because he was alway seen as one of the most rational people out there. Everyone froze in their positions as they looked at the scene before them.

‘Don’t you dare disrespect me in my home, Kim Heechul.’ Siwon threatened.

‘I was just telling you the truth,’ Heechul was struggling with his words, ‘Loosen up you horse!’

‘I don’t need your opinion on something that doesn’t concern you,’ His grip tightened, ‘She is my family, not yours.’

’S-siwon!’ Heechul tried to reach out before someone said something.

‘Stop this Siwon!’ Leeteuk and Yesung tired to push the younger away.

‘You are going to kill him!’ Yesung shouted, but both got shrugged off with ease.

Tears began to fill Siwon’s eyes as you ran towards him, ‘Let go Siwon! You are hurting him!’

‘Good…’ He seethed.

A firm slap came across Siwon’s face from you. The sound echoed throughout the house. Everyone paused for the second time as Siwon dropped Heechul and backed away and held his stinging cheek. Heechul fell to the ground and gasped for air as you ran to see if he was okay. The elder held his neck, coughing and opened his mouth for the air to enter. Some went to see if Siwon was okay as a tear fell down his cheek as he watch you tend to Heechul, stroking his cheek and making sure he was okay.

‘What is wrong with you!’ You shouted, ‘You almost killed him!’

‘I’m sorry.’ His apology simple, eyes still teary, ‘Excuse me.’

‘Stop right there, Choi Siwon!’ You called out, ‘What is wrong with you!?’

‘Me?’ He turned to face you, ‘I should be asking you that. I asked you to follow one simple rule yet you can’t even be loyal and do that.’

‘Y-you-’

‘I saw you kissing him last night,’ He cut you off, ‘How could you betray me like that?’

‘I wasn’t betraying you, Siwon, but that gives you no right to try and murder my boyfriend! You stood your ground, ‘Listen to me, I am 28 years old. You can be as protective as you like over me, but that isn't going to stop the way I am. I love Heechul and I was going to tell you-’

‘WHEN!’ Siwon shouted back, ‘At the wedding?’

‘That isn't what I meant,’ You sighed, ‘We didn't want to tell you because we knew you would over react, like you just tried to end his life Won!’

‘How long?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘How long have you both been dating!’

‘A year a half….’

At that moment his heart shattered into a million pieces as a tear fell, ‘You did this behind my back!’

‘Don’t put it like that.’ You spoke softly, Heechul getting to his feet after Shindong brought him some water.

‘I can see I am not as important to you as I thought I was.’ He walked towards the stairs, ‘Excuse me.’

He retreated to his bedroom as you watch him disappear. You felt guilty to hear him call you a betrayer let alone cry over this. This was the last thing you wanted to do, yet it ended up like that. You sighed and turned to see if your lover was okay. He was seated at the dining room table with the others tending to him. You never wanted to hurt him in anyway possible because Siwon was your blood. Heechul sipped on some water as you walked to him and got to your knees to check him out.

‘You okay?’ You asked.

‘I should be asking you that.’ He chuckled, ‘I am fine, he was angry and I understand that. Siwon would never snap without reason, Y/N.’

‘I know,’ You sighed in defeat, ‘He just went overboard.’

‘He is just angry.’

‘He almost killed you Heechul!’

‘I know Siwon,’ Heechul stroked your cheek, ‘He would have stopped because he has a limit and I know he does. I’ve lived with him long enough to know that. Go and see if he is okay, he really does care for you.’

‘I love you.’ You leant up and pecked his lips.

‘I love you too, now go.’ He pushed your shoulder softy.

Getting to your feet, you walked up the stairs slowly. On the wall besides the staircase, pictures littered the wall and many of them were of you, Siwon and his sister. The three of you had been thick as thieves when you were all small that nothing changed when you got older. You noticed a picture missing, you sighed before walking to his bedroom. You arrived before the door and knocked. You got no reply so your tried again and got the same response before you opened the door and found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a frame in his hand.

‘That should be on the wall.’ You broke the silence, closing the door behind you.

‘Just reminiscing.’ He sniffed, a tear falling on the glass, ‘Why are you here? Shouldn't you be out with Heechul?’

‘Don’t be like that,’ You took a seat next to him, ‘I never mean to slap you and I am sorry for what I did, but you need to realise that I have grown up.’

‘And I wish you hadn’t,’ He sighed, ‘Still young and naive like the little girl in this picture.’

‘Siwon,’ You held his hand, ‘You will always be my number one boy because you are my cousin and best friend. I will always love you and make time for you.’

‘I don’t think Heechul hyung will like that.’

‘I can handle Heechul.’

He turned his face to look at you, ‘I am sorry for almost choking him to death.’

‘I forgive you,’ You kissed his cheek, ‘And I am sorry for lying to you, but at least try and be okay with this? You always know I want your blessing with everything.’

‘Just give me some time, please?’ He asked, ‘This is still all new to me.’

‘I will give you all the time, now get up and lets head down for some lunch because I am starving.’ You wiped his tears with your thumb

He chuckled softly, ‘Always hungry.’

‘Because my number one cousin is an amazing chef….’

[thatawkwardnerdytomboy]

My Review of Neo Yokio (Spoilers!) Episode 1.

So, I first learned about Neo Yokio via Facebook. My friends were posting about this and when I saw the trailer, I thought “Ah, this looks really kind of cool. The protagonist is black, Jaden Smith is voicing the character and I really liked his character on The Get Down so I’m definitely going to check this out.” Then I started hearing about all the negative reviews and I reserved judgement simply for that fact that I wanted to see it for myself. When I finally saw the show, however, I was more than disappointed...after the first episode. I’ve seen all 6 episodes already and I don’t know what to think about it other than it not being good. So, for those who haven’t seen the show, I’m going to torture myself and review this show episode by episode. I’m going to break everything down from the animation to the dialogue to the plot and then summarize all of my thoughts with a final review. So this is my review for episode 1. 

Episode 1.

So in the series’ intro, we are introduced to what exactly New York, I mean -clears throat- “Neo Yokio” is. It’s basically New York but the name is mixed with Tokyo which is strange and makes no sense to me because we don’t get any references to Japan or Japanese culture in the city whatsoever other than the fact that this show is supposed to be an anime. It seems as though they were trying to reference San Fransokyo from Big Hero 6. However, we actually see Japanese architecture, culture and people in this well-integrated city. In Neo Yokio, we don’t. A very disappointing missed opportunity. We next learn that Neo Yokio is constantly under attack from demonic entities because of the city’s prestige. This is reminiscent of 9/11 and the various attempted and successful terrorist attacks on NYC and it makes sense to me that evil entities would want to seek to cripple and destroy NYC’s power seeing as how we’re one of the largest financial and social epicenters on Earth. We’re told that to combat these demons, the mayor who looks suspiciously like FDR, invited a class of exorcists to become citizens of Neo Yokio so that they could fight off these threats and that because of their growing status in the city, they became part of the elite in the city which I also thinks makes sense. It also reminds me a bit of Pacific Rim where the jaeger pilots became famous heroes for their victories against the kaiju. 

So we are introduced to the main character, Kaz (after getting an unnecessary butt/crotch shot of one of the girls playing tennis) on a tennis court. The first thing we learn about him is that he has recently broke up with his girlfriend Kathy when his mecha butler, Charles returns his watch to him that is engraved with her name. Kaz then throws this very expensive watch onto the street to be run over. I guess removing the engraved words and pawning it were out of the question? We then meet his friends, Lexy and Gottlieb whose jarring use of slang reminds me of The Boondocks. Except that it doesn’t seem to fit with the tone of this show so far, or at least, not to me. Although Kaz has prior commitments like his field hockey game, he asks Charles to cancel his appointments, tells his friends that he’s dropping out of their field hockey tournament and sulks over the end of his relationship by spewing a bunch of poetic nonsense about death and feeling like going through the daily motions of life are like navigating through a maze. Like, jeez, I know that break-ups are depressing but it sounds like the writers were trying to force his depression on us without really showing that he’s depressed.

We then find out as Kaz leaves with Charles (it’s so suspicious that he flies on Charles the way that Hiro flies on Beymax when we already have the San Fransokyo reference, like they’re intentionally trying to rip off Big Hero 6) that there is a board in Times Square that ranks the city’s most eligible bachelors and although Kaz claims not to care about it, he’s disappointed to find out that he’s second to his rival who is number 1. He goes to meet up with his Aunt Agatha who reminds him that he has work to do fighting to protect the city and that he’s been wasting his time with frivolous matters. Kaz laments again about how depressed he is over his girlfriend to which Aunt Agatha replies that it wouldn’t have worked out because all people like her will see in their family is that they are “neo riche” rat catchers despite the prestige and elegance they have achieved in society. She tells him that Helena St. Tessaro, one of the city’s top fashion bloggers has been possessed which for some odd reason, is good news. Kaz, still sulking refuses until she yells at him that he has no choice and that he’ll lose his extravagant lifestyle if he doesn’t do this job. 

Kaz goes shopping for a new suit...to go perform an exorcism...and he shops by touching the suits rather than seeing them. Charles’ positive reaction to this makes me wonder how in the world they got Jude Law to voice this character. We meet Kaz’s rival, Archangelo who after a bunch of classist insults gets himself blasted through a bunch of walls with Kaz’s exorcist powers. Oh, and he’s completely unscathed after this! He destroys a bunch of changing rooms in the process. Does he eventually pay for that? Is he not going to apologize to the salesclerk? Also, I’m assuming that security and law enforcement are going to turn a blind eye to this because Kaz is rich and powerful. After having done this, he claims that performing the exorcism on Helena would be easy. 

Kaz and Charles venture to the scene of the exorcism, 14th street which, for some odd reason is underwater. Is it because of climate change? The two enter the house where they meet Helena’s fans and are told by Helena’s parents that after being offered a Chanel suit, she became possessed. Kaz walks into her room and sees her floating in a ball. He tries talking to her, complimenting her on the suit, casually reminding her about how they may or may not have had sex at another rich kid’s party and when she doesn’t respond to his “charms,” he tried touching her suit which results in him being electrocuted. He gives up after this, so easily. What the hell? Just after he was boasting about how easy it was going to be to exorcize this girl. Not surprised they pulled this cliche. Her parents kick him out of the house. Kaz sulks again. Charles informs him that this failure has taken on a toll on his ranking. How the hell does this ranking system work anyway? How did whomever is in charge of changing this ranking find out so quickly that his attempt to help Helena failed? Did Helena’s fans tweet about it or something? Did her family complain to someone about this? Also, who the hell cares about his stupid ranking? What about Helena? Sounds like this episode is trying to say that if you’re wealthy and famous, it does’t matter if you do your job well, it’s your status that matters. 

After that event, Charles offers Kaz a giant Toblerone (the first of the ever famous Toblerone references) but Kaz declines and asks to go visit the grave...his grave. Yeah, that’s right, this kid is so narcissistic that he created his own grave to go visit whenever he has a problem, apparently. Besides his break-up with his girlfriend and his worries about being considered neo-riche, what could possibly be going on in Kaz’s life that’s so bad that he has to resort to mourning his own metaphorical death in order to cope with it? I also notice that his gravestone says that he was born in 1997. So this isn’t the future? It’s the accelerated present (like with Real Steal)? Also, this means he’s 20? I’m so confused about what time period this is supposed to be. Then to add to his pretentious attitude, he tells an old man who’s spraying his wife’s favorite perfume onto her grave that he should spray a more youthful perfume onto her grave instead. When the old man insists that his wife loved the perfume that he’s using, Kaz arrogantly condescends to the man that the elderly don’t understand anything about style and that the girls of his generation would never use that perfume. Now Kaz is being a straight-up asshole and I’ve decided that I don’t like him. And somehow, the writers decided to use this moment of ass-holery to help him figure out a mystery surrounding Helena’s exorcism. The Chanel suit wasn’t subject to the same security measures as other luxury items! It was vulnerable! The suit was possessed! Not Helena! 

Kaz rushes back to help Helena and fights to suit off her body. We’re subjected to some really terrible voice over effects to convey the fact that she’s possessed and she’s left in her bra and underwear after Kaz fights to suit off her. Fan service? When she wakes up, wet and nearly naked, instead of the rational reactions of “what the fuck? Where are my clothes? Did we have sex again?” I’m guessing she’s a party girl and this happens to her all the time? She casually greets him and says that she hasn’t seen him since that party...ok... Kaz makes it to the field hockey game. He makes such an inspiring and riveting speech about how he was depressed and how it effected his feelings toward field hockey but now that he was there, he knew that they can win the game. Oh, I’m being sarcastic about that last sentence, by the way. And of course, they win the game because they have to because happy ending. 

Stray Observations

-The lip-syncing is terrible; so terrible in fact that I have seen comments from people asking about the original Japanese version of this that doesn’t exist because this is an American made cartoon. Yep, it’s that bad. 

-Why do Kaz and everyone in his family have magenta hair? Not necessarily a bad thing, just curious. Is that one of those typical anime character distinction things? The main character must have an outlandish hair color to stand out!

-I heard that the director who helped create this, Kazuhiro Furuhashi made some animes pretty amazing. What the hell happened here?

-They refer to The Bronx (that’s where I’m from!) as being a “prefecture” in a sorry attempt to make the city sound more Japanese. 

This first episode was so painful to watch... And it sets a pretty shitty precedent for the rest of the series. Will be reviewing the 2nd episode soon.

[eskimofinn]

Salted Butter Caramels

I had a wee bit of a dilemma recently. In my refrigerator was a half-jar of crème fraîche, that I had to use up before I left for a recent vacation on the beach. I’d been thinking about making caramels with it, but I also knew that I would be slipping on a swimsuit within a few weeks. And being alone in my apartment with an open jar of ultra-rich crème fraîche was probably not a good idea.

So what did I do? I hemmed and hawed about it, until I channeled my mother, who would have flipped out if I tossed away the rest of the crème fraîche. (Or anything, for that matter.)

So I made caramels.

I love candy making and used to dream of opening a shop that only sold homemade candy. I don’t think it’d be much of a success, simply because a lot of people don’t care about homemade candy as much as I do. But when you make it yourself, you can use the best ingredients and anyone who has ever experience the smell of good cream and butter sizzling in a pot of deep-dark caramel knows what I’m talking about.

When I moved to France, I picked up my wonderful copper candy pot at a flea market for about €30, which I treasure, and it’s really sturdy. But unlike the copper pot—and everyone who lives in France is going to love me for this—you know how the aluminum foil here is thinner than newsprint and rips as soon as you try to shape it around anything?

Get yourself to Auchan, which I learned a few years ago, has heavy-duty foil. It’s amazing how the little things make me happy nowadays, like a pot of cream or sturdy foil, isn’t it?

Speaking of thick French things, the first time I tried these, the thick crème fraîche, 40% fat content, made them smell amazing when I cooked the caramel, but the finished caramels were oozing silky, slippery, butterfat all over the place. And while delicious, the little squares were a bit hard to hold on to and my head hurt thinking about the comments that would generate ; )

Curiously, in France, it’s very easy to find crème fraîche in any supermarket. But fresh, pourable heavy cream (crème liquide) is difficult to find. Like in the states, ultra-pasteurized is what’s usually available. But do try to find one that’s fresh, not ultra-pasteurized.

Because salted butter caramel deserves only over-the-top ingredients, my Bordier salted butter was called into service. I have three or four kinds of butter on hand at all times, but reserve this mostly for spreading on my morning toast because it’s so precious. It’s €1.80 for 125 g (about 4 ounces, or 1 stick) and even though it’s pricey, I’d pay twice that it’s so good. So don’t tell the fromager who I get it from. (Who last time winked at me, which was worth the extra euros!)

A few tips:

1. Pay attention all the time. Don’t leave the kitchen with a pot of caramel boiling and use a heavy-bottomed, large saucepan. And be aware that the boiling caramel is very hot so take precautions handling it at all times.

2. Have all your equipment and ingredients ready. Pretend you’re a surgeon and have all your tools well-arranged before you start.

3. Candy making depends on accuracy, so you’ll need a candy thermometer. Don’t use those one of those with a probe at the end of a metal cord. I had a Polder one and the device blew out on its first use. When I called, they said if the probe touches the bottom of the pot, which is hotter than the syrup, that can happen. So that was $30 down in the trash and they refused to replace it. Lesson learned.

Hand-held digital probe thermometers are inconvenient for candy making, so I use a simple bulb one, a Taylor. You can get candy thermometers inexpensively in almost any supermarket or hardware store. If you’re unsure if your thermometer is accurate, bring a pot of water to a boil with the thermometer in it; at sea level, it should read 212ºF (100ºC.)

3. Use a heatproof spatula. I am a huge fan of the spoon-spatulas made my Le Creuset. When I taught classes in various Sur La Table stores, I’d get to the stores a few hours early and make a beeline for the Sale rack which was full of discontinued merchandise. Le Creuset runs various colors at certain times of the year (orange, for example, around Halloween, red around Valentine’s Day). And afterward, the items got heavily-reduced so I’d snatch up as many as I could. They’re pretty great.

4. Don’t overstir the syrup. Sugar is a crystal and once you melt it, stirring encourages those crystals to hook back up. So only stir as much as necessary to keep the mixture smooth and to make sure nothing is burning on the bottom.

5. These caramels are slightly firm, but will still melt in your mouth. Waving the blade of a sharp chef’s knife over the flame on a gas burned to warm it will help you get nice, even slices if you do it before each cut.

Salted Butter Caramels 40-50 candies

Because many people are leery of corn syrup, you can use Golden or rice syrup in this recipe in its place. (For those into agave nectar, I haven’t tried it, but suspect it may not have the right sugar density for candy making.) If using one of these darker syrups, you’ll need to be a bit vigilant and stir it as it’s cooking, since it can cook quickly in certain spots of the pan. Your finished caramels will also be darker, too.

I use salted butter. Traditional wisdom was to only use unsalted butter in baking so you could control the amount of salt. But I like the slightly funky taste of salted butter, and if you can find one that’s cultured, the flavor is incomparable. If you only have unsalted butter, just add a few extra flecks of salt to the cream.

3/4 cup (180 ml) heavy cream

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, bean paste, or powder

rounded 1/2 teaspoon + 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt, preferably fleur de sel

1/2 cup (160 g) light corn syrup, golden syrup (such as Lyle's) or rice syrup*

1 cup (200 g) sugar

4 tablespoons (60 g), total, salted butter, cubed, at room temperature

1. Line a 9-inch (23 cm) loaf pan with foil and spray the inside with cooking spray.

2. Heat the cream with 2 tablespoons of the butter in a small saucepan with the vanilla and 1/2 teaspoon sea salt until the mixture begins to boil. Remove from heat, cover, and keep warm while you cook the syrup.

3. In a medium, heavy duty saucepan (4 quarts, 4l), fitted with a candy thermometer, heat the corn syrup, golden, or rice syrup with the sugar, and cook, stirring gently, to make sure the sugar melts smoothly. Once the mixture is melted together and the sugar is evenly moistened, only stir is as necessary to keep it from getting any hot spots.

4. Cook until the syrup reaches 310ºF (155ºC).

To get an accurate reading while the syrup is cooking, tilt the saucepan to make sure the bulb of the thermometer is fully submerged in the syrup, tilting the pan if necessary.

4. Turn off the heat and stir in the warm cream mixture, until smooth.

5. Turn the heat back on and cook the mixture to 260F (127C).

6. Remove the pan from the heat, lift out the thermometer, and stir in the cubes of butter, until it’s melted and the mixture smooth.

7. Pour the mixture into the prepared loaf pan and wait ten minutes, then sprinkle 1/4 teaspoon of the sea salt over the top. Set on a cool rack and let cool completely. Once cool, lift out the foil with the caramel, peel away the foil, and slice the bar of caramel with a long, sharp knife into squares or rectangles.

Storage: These caramels can be individually-wrapped in cellophane or waxed paper. Once cut, they may stick together if not wrapped. Store in an air-tight container, and they’ll keep for about one month.

*The rice syrup I use is from the Asian market I shop at, found in the Korean foods aisle. I don’t know how it compares to rice syrup sold in natural food’s stores, but if anyone knows, you are welcome to leave that information in the comments.

[nanoland]

posting this again in a shameless bid for attention (the usual 2-3 people who already give me plenty of attention pls ignore and also i love u <3)

(Also on AO3.) 

Clean Hands, part 4

Crowley/Dean Winchester/Castiel

Warning: Demon deals, violence, mention of abuse and torture. Also: Crowley is an abuse + addiction survivor and also a cold-hearted arsehole with very little respect or empathy for abuse + addiction survivors, and this story is written from his POV. 

0

What was there to be done when you were enamoured of a man who hit you?

Leave him! the whole world cried back in one voice.

Which was a bit like telling someone trapped in a burning car to get out of the car. Yes. Quite. Thank you. Fully agree. But what if, for a moment, you assumed I wasn’t as stupid as a fucking dog?

That, incidentally, was one of a handful of ways the world had worsened since Crowley last drew breath.

Back in the fourteenth century, the women in the marketplace had noted his black eye and torn dress with immediate understanding. Instead of insisting he pack his bags and walk out of the house belonging to his wealthy shoemaker husband, the father of his child, the man on whom his safety and good reputation and continued ability to eat depended, the man he, for some fucking reason, still loved, they’d actually tried to help.

Sybil had given him willow bark for the pain. Rose had engaged him in long, rambling conversations, stretching the minutes until he had to return home. Jane had walked across the village and rapped on his door every evening she could, always armed with solid excuses, just when the bastard was well and truly in his cups and looking for something to damage.

If ever analytical minds were to try to account for Crowley’s misanthropy and sadism, they couldn’t honestly conclude that either was due to his never experiencing true, heartfelt human kindness.

Yes, Sybil and Rose and Jane had all thought he was a woman and addressed him accordingly, and it had hurt. But that wasn’t their fault. He’d not had the courage to tell them otherwise.

Crowley didn’t regret much. Regret, in this game, was a slow-killing poison.

Still, he did occasionally wonder how things might have turned out if he’d accepted Jane’s invitation and fled with her to London that one warm night, rather than hanging in for years until he finally snapped and beat his husband’s skull into tooth-sized pieces with an iron kettle.

Returning to the present:

As Crowley watched Dean’s fist barrel towards his face, and not for the first time, he reviewed the pros and cons of incinerating him with hellfire.

When fist and nose were one millionth of an inch apart, he teleported across the room.

“Squirrel,” he sighed, “this has nothing to do with you.”

Dean charged and took another swing at him. “Fuck you! He worked so hard! Clean for four years, you piece of shit!”

This time, Crowley reappeared sitting on top of the dead man’s wardrobe, where Dean couldn’t reach him. “Good for him. His family and friends won’t remember him as the thieving, lying wretch he was ten years ago when he sold his soul for a pound of meth. They’ll probably give him a nice funeral.”

“Why couldn’t you make an exception? Just once?”

“That’s not how this works, Dean! It wasn’t even my deal! The contract is in the hands of a relatively inexperienced subordinate and honestly, I’m glad that she pulled it off. She’s got potential. This is her first real win. It’ll increase her standing in Hell and make her more powerful, which will be useful because some older demons have taken to bullying h-…”

“I don’t give a damn about your minions,” he snarled, picking up a lamp sprinkled with blood and throwing it at him. Crowley ducked. “Every last one of you can take an angel blade to the face, for all I care. You’re fucking parasites.”

Evenly, Crowley replied, “Yes. We are. You know that. You’ve always known that. Why are you having a fit about it now? Good people get dragged to Hell all the time.”

Dean stared down at what remained of Martin Booke, now that the hellhounds had left. “He worked so hard. Christ. You could have made an exception. He came to us and I swore I’d help him out.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have cocking well done that, should you?” Crowley cried, throwing up his hands.

Eyes wet, Dean sneered at him. “Parasite. Get out of my sight before I wring your evil neck.”

Crowley left.

Upon arriving back in Hell, he went to the Admissions Department.

The soul of Martin Booke was sitting in one of the cheap blue plastic chairs, knees drawn up to his chest. Probably still reeling from the trauma of the hounds ripping his throat out, though no damage was evident on his form now.

“Mr Booke,” Crowley said, sauntering up with his hands in his pockets. “Could you come with me, please?”

A door appeared in the nearest wall and swung open silently.

Once they were both standing inside Crowley’s office, it swung shut and dissolved into nothingness.

Moving to his liquor cabinet, Crowley said, “I hear you’re a Harvard man.”

“Um… y-yeah. Yes. I was.” Thin voice. Midwestern accent.

“Promising career ahead of you before things – ah – went awry.”

Booke swallowed. “Tom. First boyfriend. Got me into meth. Got me into a lot of stuff. I figured it was okay because we were gonna be together forever and as long as I had him, I’d be fine. Then he went and died and I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Smiling thinly, Crowley said, “Isn’t romance grand? As it happens, you may still get your happily ever after. Thomas Abbott is currently waiting in the eternal queue – which, ordinarily, is where you’d be headed.”

“Yeah. Dean told me. Although… um…”

“You have a question? Spit it out. Cowards bore me.”

“Dean said that when you sell your soul, you go to Hell and demons torture you until you become a demon. But he also told me about the queue thing. So that’s confusing. I mean, queuing sucks but it’s not torture.”

Crowley poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down behind his desk. “Clever boy. Yes; when I became King of Hell, I restructured things. Most of you end up in the queue. The hot knives and whips are a speciality service and, as such, are reserved for our elite clientele. The pedos and Nazis and so forth – and, of course, anyone who pisses me off too much. As for the process of becoming a demon; that doesn’t actually require torture. I know! Surprised me too! We always thought it did, back when Lilith was in charge. Then I started running some tests and it turns out that becoming a demon is a bit like catching a virus; it’ll happen to anyone who hangs around other demons long enough. Everyone in the queue will have black eyes by the end of their first century.”

Booke took off his glasses and nervously rubbed them on his sleeve. “You said that ‘ordinarily’ I’d go to the queue. So am I an – uh – ‘elite client’?”

“Hah! No. Your little life was staggeringly boring and barely impacted anyone in ways either negative or positive. No, the reason you’re here is Harvard. See, I had a snoop and it seems that before you dropped out, you were getting bloody good grades.”

A wistful smile. “I guess. Had big dreams, once.”

Sipping his bourbon, Crowley said, “On track for a Master’s in aeronautical engineering, I believe.”

“Yep. I wanted to work for NASA.”

“Cards on the table, Booke: I might have a job for you. There is, at present, space in one or two of our departments for a man with your talents. But first I need to ask a question.”

He cocked his head. “Um. Sure? Anything’s better than what I was expecting. Shoot.”

“Do you know how to crash a spaceship?”