#they would try to get me to eat 4 spoonfuls of peanut butter and some pretzels...like i cant do that or else i'll feel sick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

okmissgirl · 2 years ago

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Absolutely Normal Nonsense

HEHE I'm still alive and this some real nonsense y'all 💀

Also happens to fulfill the Future catagory for HellCheer Aniversary Week day 4.

<- Last Nonsense

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🥜 Sweet Nothings (and sour somethings) 🥒

To you I can admit

That I’m just too soft for all of it

“You gotta try it with peanut butter.”

“I — what?”

“Take your spoon, scoop some of it up—”

“Is this—?”

“Nuh-uh, you have to get a lot more. Like a heaping scoop. Here, let me—”

“Sweetheart, I know the logistics of it, I can… okay that’s — Chrissy that’s just straight up peanut butter.”

“But it tastes good! Especially when you spread a bunch on top of the pickle and the juice is still there, ugh, the contrast is phenomenal… I feel like I’ve ascended or something.”

“Ascended? Peanut butter and pickles is a religious experience for you?”

“Yes and I am a staunch believer and no sacrilege will be permitted in my house, so here comes the um, starfighter airplane jet thing… and…”

“Wha— don’t just! Baby, I am agnostic at best—”

“And you will see the light and be compelled if you would only open wide—”

“Ok princess, first, before I poison myself, how did you go from oreo and peanut butter cookies to this?”

“...put it in your mouth first.”

“Wh— I am not—”

“Please? Pretty please? For me?”

“Oh baby doll, you’re so sweet. No.”

“But—”

“No ma’am.”

“Ed-die!”

“Chris-sy!”

“Give it a chance, the flavors, the textures — look at me baby, would I ever steer you wrong?”

“...”

“Eddie!”

“Sorry, but I am very sure you would, case in point, I can’t even see the beaten path right now—”

“Oh boo, where’s your sense of adventure? Where’s the man I fell madly in love with who used to do those disgusting beer kegs in college and use the same towel every week for months?”

“Jesus Christ, woman — that dumbass is dead. Hallelujah.”

“But I want him back! Just for tonight? C’mon sweetie, one lick.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll eat the rest?”

“And you’ll tell me who put you up to this? I brought that jar yesterday — there are only three pickles left mamacita — I know you’ve been going to town on these all day. That acid reflux is gonna be righteous tonight.”

“I promise it’s 8/10 worth the heartburn — that’s how good they are! … And I was bored, so…”

“Bored?”

“Eh okay well, not completely, but that’s besides the point! Try it? Please?”

“Ughhh, fine, fine…”

“Really?! Aw, Eddie—!”

“Hmm, since you asked so nicely… bottoms up, I guess…”

“Hehe, enjoy…”

“...”

“...and?”

“Uh, cool your jets — I gotta analyze the flavor, the texture and all that shit…”

“Oh… well, hurry up!”

“My word, where is your patience, Christine? Hmm, I guess… it’s um… huh.”

“Huh?”

“...s’not bad.”

“Not bad? So that means… you like it?”

“I do not hate it.”

“You love it!”

“It’s palatable, princess.”

“See!! Oh my gosh, I told you! I told you, it’s the fucking contrast — like peanut butter and jelly!”

“Uh, strong comparison, but I get what you’re saying. Now, who rummaged through our cupboards and got pickle juice all up in the peanut butter jar? ‘Cause I know it wasn’t you — that’s something you’d get mad at me for.”

“Well… Robin came over…”

“Of course. Of course — you know, I walked into that one. Like in the back of my mind I thought “Eddie, what if it’s Bucklely who’s eating all your shit?” and at the time I didn’t wanna believe it but, tsk… should’ve known.”

“What! How could you say that? Robin’s so much fun!”

“Yeah, until she starts packing our food in tupperware boxes and taking it to her place.”

“She does not do that.”

“I’ve seen it with my own two eyes, Missus Munson.”

“Edward Munson! You know how boring it is, staying at home 24/7?! All I ever do is fold, wash, and dry all the clothes we brought and then dig out some more for tomorrow to fold again and then I eat and watch reruns of Seinfeld. I try to cook but then my feet hurt. I try to drive to the grocery store but no, I can’t get behind the freaking wheel! I want to practice the stretches we learned in class so I put on exercise videos but I can’t even follow along with them! I sit there like a beached whale! There’s no one to call and everyone’s at work except me! There’s nothing to do, I’m slowly going out of my mind and, and… you know what, give me that—”

“What are you — hey! I was gonna—”

“NO! You don’t deserve a peanut butter pickle! Shame on you, making fun of me like that when Robin was so kind to come over and watch a movie with me, help make cookies, and introduce both of us to this delicious delicacy. You should be thankful!”

“Aw Chris, I am thankful; just didn’t know you had it so rough baby—”

“Ey! Get away, you! Don’t try to kiss me! I’ll stick this glob of peanut butter in your hair—”

“No you won’t.”

“I will.”

“Uh, okay… I’ll just eat it off, but sure. “

“Eddie!”

“Okay, okay pretty girl — I’m thankful that Buckley broke into our house so you could have some adventure for the day—”

“— I mean, you told her where the house key is buried, so that’s kinda on you—

“However, I’m at your beck and call whenever you need me.”

“... I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I dunno, Munson. The way you look at those campaign sheets sometimes… kinda has me worried, is all…”

“Perish the thought, fair maiden! For I find you tantalizing, bewitching — the object of many a man’s desire but alas, you are mine, Christine, and I’ll fall upon my own sword if there ever is a day I find myself blind to such godlike beauty…”

“... hmm…”

“Hmm? Too much?”

“No… I never said that… “

“Then pray tell… hmm, what? Is it a secret? Would you whisper in my ear? Don’t be afraid, you can tell me…”

“No, no secrets here.”

“Oh…? “

“I do have a question though.”

“And I await with bated breath to hear it.”

“.... you fancy me a goddess, good sir?”

“Of course I... yes.”

“Am I to believe I am just a simple spirit you found looking into the glade?”

“N-no, never you are not just any goddess. You are more brilliant than Aphrodite herself.”

“You swear?”

“On my life…”

“...”

“... Chris—”

“Alright, help me get down from here.”

“Oh! Uh, sure, but why do you—”

“Honestly, my ass is getting numb and I didn’t really think this through once I actually got up here so…”

“Well, can’t have a sore ass on my watch, sweetheart — just lift your—”

“I’m heavier than before okay, so be careful with you back and don’t—”

“Pfft, babycakes you weigh 30 pounds soaking wet as we speak… there we go. Hmm.. I kinda like it, actually.”

“Like what?”

“You know…”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Well… I’ve been meaning to ask… is my queen gonna claim her throne tonight?”

“... Eddie—”

“I’ve been waiting. Thirsting. Praying fervently that I could show my fealty to you once more. So… please…I—”

“What… what if I’m… I’m not… too…”

“Never, never… ah… never, Christine…”

“Shi… I… okay.”

“Okay?”

“Please.”

Oftentimes, Eddie is struck by the fact that he gets to come home to Chrissy Munson née Cunningham everyday. To find his wife sitting on the kitchen counter, scooping peanut butter onto a pickle stick, so far removed from the hustle and bustle of his chaotic workday. But he guesses that’s natural.

He hopes the feeling lasts a lifetime.

*BONUS*

“fifty-eight one-thousand, fifty-nine one-thousand… and… okay… okay, that’s…”

“...Chrissy? Chris, what are you doing in the shower? Is everything okay…? Cause uh, I woke up and your side of the bed was like wet with… something. I didn’t smell it or anything but uhh… you can wake me up when stuff like that happens. I know it’s normal and I can help—”

“Eddie! You thought I wet the bed? I’m no child!”

“Well yeah, I know that… but you’re also—”

“I’m in labor. Well, I’m pretty sure I am, at least. My water broke in bed.”

“...what.”

“Yeah, I woke up and it was like, everywhere, and it kept dripping down my legs… kinda gross. I wanted to take a shower.”

“Wha… holy fuck, can you rewind to, uh, Jesus… um, are you really, seriously—”

“Yup, I think so. Can you help me get out of here please?”

“Uh, uh, okay, yeah, no problem I can — I can do that.”

“Great!”

“Shit… maybe we shouldn't have done so much last night?”

“No. We do a lot most nights. I don’t think that made a difference here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Honestly? I think it was the pickles.”

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer anniversary week #first baby #oneyearofhellcheer #day four #should i start numbering these?#somebody let me know 👀

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weaselle · 5 years ago

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cooking for people who have no idea what they are doing (or are just, like, real depressed)

Okay, I’m a professional cook, but also, I get depressed. This is the cooking I do when I’m depressed, because I need the simplest path to a whole meal.

This is not for vegetarians, because, while I wholeheartedly support people choosing vegetarianism, and also enjoy cooking for vegetarians, for me, the simplest path to a meal includes meat. Perhaps when I am less depressed I will work on options.

A lot of recipes focus on achieving food that is in some way special, using special techniques, or using a precise list of carefully measured high-end ingredients... and that’s not this, this is all the parts of cooking that are not those things.

First, shopping

Meats Starches Veggies Sauces Breakfast/Snack

For a whole week you’re going to want

3 kinds of meat, with five portions each. So, for example, five chicken breasts, 10 sausage links, and 2-3 pounds of ground beef. Other possibilities include pork chops, salmon, some kind of steak, whatever.

You’re going to want up to 3 starches. Honestly I usually stick to just rice, but you can go with rice, potatoes, and pasta. If you want to use quinoa or polenta or something, thats on you.

And, you’re going to want about 3 types of vegetables, again, about 5 portions each -- and try to stay green. So personally, I usually get 5 medium zucchini, 2 medium heads of broccoli, and then either yellow squash or mushrooms. A bag of salad greens is also a good option, and I have an easy way to make a good salad, which I will do as a separate post.

Next pick something easy that works as either breakfast or a snack. For me this is a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a bunch of bananas. Sometimes it’s nice to have an additional option here, like cereal or yogurt.

Last, you’ll want 2-5 sauces in bottles. I would definitely recommend a low sodium soy sauce be one of them, and maybe a BBQ sauce for the other. I usually also include worcestershire and sriracha but go with whatever you want, teriyaki sauce, A1, whatever you know you’ll eat. Hell, you can use Italian style salad dressing as a cookable sauce if you really want.

Oh, and If you don’t already have some at the house, you’ll need pan lube: butter and/or some kind of cooking oil.

Okay! we’re done shopping! Affordability isn’t the main focus here, but is undeniably important -- I live in a very expensive area, this shopping trip is going to feed me well for a week and costs me about $100 bucks. When I was living in Alabama, it probably would have cost me more like $70. You won’t need to get stuff like the sauce and rice and peanut butter every week, so you’re definitely looking at a monthly grocery bill of something like $300 depending on where you live, and that’s not too bad.

Prep

hell no, I’m depressed, the only prep I’m doing is putting two packages of meat in the freezer and the rest of this stuff in the fridge. You CAN box or bag each portion of meat separately so you can really alternate what you eat -- me, I’m gonna eat chicken for two or three days, then beef for two or three days, etc.

and listen, don’t fuck around with microwave settings or running water on things to defrost them. If you package the meat all up separately, just move a portion from the freezer to the fridge each time you cook dinner. Or, if you do like me, move the whole package when you go to cook your last portion of the previous stuff, and just deal with the fact that it will probably still be a tiny bit frozen when you go to cook next.

Tip: When you cook dinner, you’re going to make enough for lunch. That just leaves you one small meal - I often smear peanut butter on a peice of bread and wrap it around a banana like a taco - fast, easy, practically no dishes, relatively healthy

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Cooking (this is going to take about 25 minutes)

You’re going to need

ONE frying pan, medium size w/ lid ONE boil pot, medium size w/ lid knife, a spatula and a cutting board.

If you want to be fancy, you can include a big spoon. Looks like this

No matter what the specific ingredients you’ve chosen, the basic format is going to be:

Start your starch heat pan, put meat in the pan flip meat and add veggies, cover with lid remove meat and add sauce finish starch put everything on a plate while it is still too hot to eat and you are standing in the kitchen anyway, wash the like, 4 dishes you’ve gotten dirty. eat.

Okay, before you even get everything else out, start your starch. For rice this means rinse the rice and put it in the cold water and set it on high heat, for pasta this means put your salted water on the stove on high heat. For potatoes, you can use my perfect mashed potatoes recipe (I’ll do that as a separate post) or, honestly, you can wait until you’re halfway done with the rest of everything and microwave the sucker for like 8 minutes. I would never do that in a restaurant, but trying to feed my lethargic depressed ass? Absolutely.

easy rice: Fill your smallest coffee cup with rice, put it in the pot. Rinse. Fill the same cup twice with water, add to rice. Bring to a boil, give a good stir, turn heat all the way down, put a lid on it for something like 15 more minutes.

Okay, now lube your pan. Butter, olive oil, whatever. You’re probably looking at an amount more than a teaspoon and less than a table spoon of whichever you use. Personally I try to use as little olive oil as possible, so I pour a large coin sized amount (a quarter in the U.S.) into the pan, ear off a piece of the paper towel I’m going to use as my napkin for the evening, fold it up tight, and sort of paint the oil around so a little goes a longer way.

Pan lubed? Great, turn your burner on. highest heat will work but is not ideal, medium heat will work better but is still not ideal. Halfway between the two is perfect for chicken, a little hotter for beef, a little lower for fish.

Now remove two portions of your chosen protein (that way you’ll have tomorrow’s lunch too). By the time you get the packaging open and stuff, your pan is probably hot. If it’s not, let it get hot. You don’t want the oil to start smoking (warning, butter will burn faster than oil) but if you shake a single drop of water off your finger into the pan, you want it to sizzle.

If your pan is hot, put your meat in. The more you do this, the more you’ll perfect the timing, but you’re going to cook it for ~about~ 7 minutes before you flip it, maybe a couple minutes longer if it’s chicken or pork, maybe a couple minutes less if it’s beef.

Now that your meat is in, prepare your veggie. Rinse it off, cut off any part of it you don’t want to eat, and then cut what’s left into pieces the size of a large bite. Don’t worry, it’s going to get a little smaller when you cook it. Take your time, you’ll probably finish in less time than the meat needs.

Time to flip your meat? Great. Do that, and then dump your chopped up veggie in the pan. It does not matter at all if the pieces are not touching the bottom of the pan -probably most of them will not be, a bunch will be on top of the meat, that’s fine.

Put a lid on it. Now add your pasta to the water, or put your potato in the microwave, or check your rice. If following my perfect mashed potato recipe, mash now.

Rice tip, checking: eat a grain, you want zero crunch. If it’s not done and there’s no liquid, add a splash of water and stir. It it’s done or close to done, but it is still very wet, give it a big stir and leave on the stove with the lid off for a couple minutes.

Your meat still has like, at least 4 minutes, so rinse off your cutting board and chef knife, get out a plate, table knife and fork.

Meat done? Great. Take the meat out of the pan, leaving the veggies in. Add sauce to the pan. I like to also use a little wine, because it’s usually already in the house, if you have some and want to, pour a large swallow of wine in the pan with the sauce. I’ll often mix a couple sauces, like worcestershire and soy (makes something similar to teriyaki) or hot sauce and BBQ

Stir the sauce around with the veggies. This, called deglazing, is an important step for two reasons, 1: it will get up a lot of the flavorful stuff that has stuck to the pan and make your sauce better, and 2: it will make washing the pan much easier. Okay, put the lid back on for one to two minutes, maybe stir a couple times. Basically you want the sauce to stain the veggies.

Your starch should be done, turn off the burner, put a portion on your plate, and stick the rest in a ziplock or tupperware or something. Go ahead and throw the second portion of meat right in there with it.

Turn off the stove and scoop the veggies onto the plate, and pour the sauce from the pan over everything.

Now, while it’s too hot to eat, and you’re standing in the kitchen anyway, wash the pot, pan, and spatula. It should be very easy because of the way you used the sauce and because nothing has had a chance to harden. This usually takes me about 2 full minutes.

__________________________________________________________

OKAY! it’s been 20-25 minutes, you’ve got dinner and tomorrow’s lunch (just add another cut up veggie, pour a different sauce on, and put it in the microwave for two or three minutes) AND there’s no danger of dishes piling up on you :) You can even add “washing last night’s plate and fork for use tonight” to where you rinse the cutting board to really keep it full circle.

It’s not gormet. It IS accessibly healthy, affordable, and easy.

If you are extra depressed, forget the starch and use more veggies; this cuts what little work there is by up to half

Using this format, you can have three good meals per day and only spend 30 total minutes a day in the kitchen — including clean up! (dishes piling up tends to exacerbate my depression and makes cooking your next meal harder)

And it’s easy to give yourself a wide variety, from soy glazed chicken, zucchini and rice one night; to steak, mushrooms and pasta the next; followed by BBQ pork chops, brocoli and potatoes... I suck at math but there’s probably a hundred options

Just to recap, because I know I was very detailed and this might seem overwhelming, once you read through the above to answer any questions you might have, simply

-Start your starch -lube & heat pan, put meat in the pan, about 7 minutes -flip meat, add veggies, lid, about 7 minutes -wash knife and cutting board -remove meat and add sauce to veggies, re-lid, 1-2 minutes -finish starch, refrigerate extra meat and starch -put everything left on a plate -wash pot and pan -eat.

#cooking #food #depression meals

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

198 notes · View notes

janicho88 · 4 years ago

Text

Falling For You -Part 4

December

Pairing-Eventual Dean x Female!Reader

Word count- 6071

Warning- Slight angst, jealousy, one or two swear words, fluff. Slow burn.

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU Thank you to @waywardbeanie and @whatareyousearchingfordean for helping me keep these 2 characters in line and letting me bounce ideas off of you.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door. Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.

Series Masterlist

Your parents Christmas party was two weeks away, but you had a lot of baking to do, and none of it was started. Why did you procrastinate? Oh yeah, not much freezer room here when they are finished, and you had been hanging out with Dean. Coming home from work on Monday, you got a quick workout in before planning to spend the evening in the kitchen.

Recipes out, and ingredients spread on the counter you started working on your first cookie. Tonight you decided, was peanut butter night, which meant making the dough for peanut butter blossoms first, it would sit overnight and cook tomorrow while you were mixing other dough. Santa’s peanut butter cookie bars, and the last item of the night no bakes.

While working on the cookie bars there was a knock on your door which had you pausing to answer it. Hands a little sticky you answered the door as best you could.

“Hey Dean.”

“Hi Y/N, um, you got a little something here, and a here.” He pointed to one side of your face and then your forehead. Wiping it off with your hands you made a bigger mess.

“Moved out almost a week and you forgot where Sam lives already?” You teased him letting him into your apartment.

“No, I came over to see if you would like to grab some food with me. I think you might be a little busy though.”

“Yeah, I’m working on deserts for the Christmas party at my parents in two weeks. Your invitation should be coming any day, I hope you, your brother and Jess can come. I know Cas and Meg will be there too. I was in the middle of baking, but you are welcome to hang out if you want.”

“I got it today actually, I’ll be there. Have you eaten?”

“No, I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Alright, so let's order a pizza, and I’ll help with quantity control in the kitchen.”

“I won’t have much for you to control tonight, but pizza sounds good.”

While the bar was cooking you got everything ready for the no bakes, deciding to start them after the pizza arrived. Eating at the counter next to Dean, he told you about the shop he was working in. He really liked Bobby, said he was an old grump on the outside but a teddy bear underneath. Bobby’s wife Ellen helped with the book keeping some days, she also owned a bar a little outside of town. He invited you to go with him, Sam and Jess to check it out sometime. Benny and he got along well, he also ran the kitchen at the bar in the evenings.

Santa’s peanut butter bars came out as you were waiting for your no-bake ingredients to boil. Dean went to cut a piece after you had set it down.

“You know that’s going to be extremely hot right?”

“It will cool in a minute, everything is better right out of the oven.” Shaking your head you went back to stirring your pot. “Oh that was good,” came from Dean a few minutes later. “When did you start baking?”

“My mom used to do it all, I’d help with what I could when I was little. Dumping in the ingredients she already measured, or stirring the batter after she mixed it. When you’re a kid you think you are so much help. Then we started doing it together as I got older, I learned from her. Over time I’ve found some of my own recipes to make, or put my spin on others. The last couple of years I’ve taken on most of the party baking, but there are one or two things we will make together for it.”

“You’ve got a real talent for it.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to humor me.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that, just looking at the back of your head while you were stirring. “It can be a great stress relief too when I’m frustrated with someone or something. It also forces me to find time for the gym.” You continued on not noticing his pause.

You had made a double batch of no-bakes and when they were ready, had talked Dean into helping you spoon them out. As the pot they were in cooled down Dean stuck a finger in the still soft cookie batter before putting it in his mouth.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Trying to keep a stern face as you looked at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry did you want a taste?” He dipped another finger and spread it over your lips before tapping your nose. Neither of you moving, eyes locked on one another before Dean’s ringing phone broke you apart. He went into the living room to take the call, while you wiped off your face and tried to figure out what that was between you. Nothing, right? You guys were just friends, neither of you wanted more, you were seeing things that weren’t there.

“That was Bobby, I have to go. There is a late delivery coming into the shop he was expecting in the morning and he isn’t there to let them in. You um, doing anything this week, or weekend?” He seemed a little more hesitant when he asked that.

“You’re looking at it. Maybe some cleaning and decorating I’m a little behind on it.”

“You need any help?”

“I don’t know about help, but I’ll always take the company if you want.”

“Okay, I’ll see you sometime this week. Night Y/N.”

“Night Dean,” locking up after him you let your thoughts drift to the green eyed man causing you so much confusion. Two months ago you both wanted to avoid relationships, you still didn’t think you were ready to get back out there. You really didn’t want to misread anything from him and scare him away either.

It was Friday night before you saw Dean again, a knock coming just after 5:30. This time he appeared at your door with beer, and burgers.

“Hi, you didn’t have to bring food.”

“Did you eat?”

“No, not yet.”

“Did you have anything here to eat?”

“I probably could have figured out something.”

“Yeah, the burgers were needed. This way more time to work on whatever tonight's project is.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Tonight's goal is frosting the sugar cookies I baked yesterday, making the frosting topping for the Cranberry Bliss bar, and the cake for the petit fours.”

“I’m not sure which question to ask first. I’m going to go with what the hell is a petty four?”

Not able to hide a smile and small chuckle you looked at him as you handed him a plate for his burger and fries. “Petit four, ever seen those small cake looking things that are like an inch or smaller, decorated fancy?”

“Maybe? I pay more attention to the pie. Speaking of, are you making any of those?”

“Not exactly, I have cherry pie cookie cups. Petit fours are a type of cake with layers of frosting and I also do a fruit filling in mine too.”

“Sounds complicated, but back to where are these cookie pies? I think I need to check them for you.”

“Sorry, I was out of freezer room here, they already went to my parent’s freezer. And yes, they are complicated. I’ll make the cake today, then it has to cool and slightly freeze, the filling, frosting and glaze will get made this weekend and then put all together.”

“I don’t have that kinda patience. Next question, what are you going to do with all this?”

“It’s a big party, we go through a lot then. It will go back in the freezer after, and the week leading up to Christmas we’ll get it back out and make up trays to give away to friends, business we deal with, and have some left over for Christmas.”

“What does one have to do to get on this list, sweetheart?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure one will find its way to your door.

“What all is on your party list?”

“The things from Monday, and tonight, buckeyes, cherry cheesecake bar, two different truffles, fudge, cranberry cookies, candies, white chocolate ginger cookies, and choc cherry brownie bites, polar bear faces and some candies.”

“Next week is helping mom clean, with any last minute decorations she hasn’t done, then food Thursday and Friday night. Saturday is the party, Sunday I might not get out of bed.”

Dean laughed at that, “I never said I was joking Winchester.”

“Alright, alright so what are we doing first?”

“You really want to help me? You are welcome to turn on the television and just hang out.”

“Nope, I’m here to bake sweetheart.”

You offered to let him pick something on tv, but he declined so you turned on Hallmark Christmas movies to help you both get in the Christmas spirit. Dean helped you put together the cake for the petit fours, so that could get cooking first. Frosting sugar cookies was next, you had done a few cut outs, but you preferred plain old circles. It saved time and could be decorated any way. The frosting colors were always tied in to that year's decoration colors. This year was blue, white and silver, unfortunately you hadn’t found a silver paste coloring yet. You were going to make three different shades of blues and a simple white. The powdered sugar needed to be shifted still to help keep the frosting smoother. You gave that job to Dean while you got the rest of the ingredients ready.

“Oops,” you heard from behind you. Turning around Dean had put too much powdered sugar in at once then apparently leaned over to see what he was doing. Now he was wearing some on his face and shirt.

“Here,” handing him a wet rag you helped him clean up a little.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use store bought?”

“Yes, but this recipe tastes better, has a better consistency for decorating with it, and dries so I can stack them without ruining the design.”

“Whatever you say Betty Crocker.”

The two of you both grabbed some cookies and started to decorate, at one point you looked up and had to look away so Dean wouldn't see your smile. The man really likes his sprinkles apparently.

“Wow!” You looked up quickly to see what caused that reaction from Dean.

“What?”

“Your frosting on those, that’s like store bought good.”

Feeling the blush heat up your face you smiled at him, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice over the years. Watched a lot of decorating tips too.”

It was a lot of fun decorating the cookies with Dean, you goofed off a little and tried to “help” each other with the cookie the other was working on at that time. That ended with some, let’s say interesting looking cookies thrown in with the others.

“Hey Dean,” You got his attention while you headed to the sink with the last of the remaining frosting. “I think you got a little something right here,” as you tapped him on the nose with a blue spoon quickly getting out of his reach.

While you were standing at the sink he came up behind you and wiped his frosted nose on the shoulder of your dark green shirt. “Dean!” Neither of you could hold in your laughter.

The last task of the night was the frosting to the Cranberry bars. Dean had snuck a few bits of everything tonight, but you didn’t care. He had earned it. This had been the most fun baking you had had in a long time.

Neither of you had to work tomorrow and retired to the couch to watch a movie when you were all cleaned up. The temperature had dropped this week and despite the heat being on still a little chilly in the apartment. There was a blanket behind Dean he grabbed before sitting next to you and tossing it over you both. You didn’t realize as the movie went on you leaned a little closer in to Dean until he put his arm around your shoulders anchoring you close.

Dean was telling you about his week and how he met the owner’s step daughter, Jo, this week. She had been in everyday to take care of the paper work for Ellen since she had problems at the bar to take care of. According to Dean she was a bit of a talker, and kept coming to the back of the shop where he was working.

Oh you fool, you thought, she’s trying to flirt with you, not just talk. “Was she just there this week?”

“Not sure, I heard her tell Bobby she would be happy to take it over if they wanted her too.”

Of course she would, she wants to see you, went through your head, but all you said “Oh,” You're not looking to date, you have no right to be jealous of her flirting with Dean or hanging out with him at work. Not that he would be interested; he only wants friends right now too, but you found yourself worrying about Dean falling for her.

Dean looked around your apartment as he was walking out, “Not much time for decorating yet?”

“I’m going to work on that tomorrow. What about you? How is your house coming?”

“I only had a few decorations I put up, I won’t be up here anyways.”

“No? Your parents aren’t coming back up?”

“No, we are heading to them. Jess’ parents are going on a cruise that leaves the 26th so Sam and her are heading to see them before Christmas and will meet us in Kansas. I took the week of Christmas off, I’ll drive there either the 20th or 21st and come back here the 27th. Are your parents staying in town for Christmas?

“Yep, we have it at their house every year, and my aunt should be good to travel by then.”

“That’s good, see you tomorrow.”

“What?” He just winked at you and shut the door. Did you have plans you were forgetting?

Late Saturday morning while you were fighting with branches there was a knock at your door. A bright eyed Winchester was waiting to be let in, his coffee in hand.

“I didn’t have plans today, and thought I’d give you some help. Plus I wanted to see how the petty things went together.” He looked at the corner where you had been working, “What is that mess?”

“That’s my tree, thank you very much, and it’s petit four.”

“You know real is the way to go.”

“Says the man with no tree. Maybe it is, except when you live alone, and would have to water it and check it everyday and you have an allergy to the branches making you break out in red itchy spots.”

“Okay, you win.”

Dean helped you get the tree together and put the ornaments up. When you finished with that you got the petit fours out to finish. Dean watched you adding layers to the bottom half of the cake, then put the top half on doing the same, helping when he could.

“Getting the glaze on is the hardest part, mine never look as good as ones you can get in a store.”

“I think they look awesome, if I tried these mine wouldn’t be half as good.”

You had ingredients in your cupboard for pasta so you started that inviting Dean to stay for dinner. The night ended much like the last with the two of you side by side watching a movie on the couch.

The next week was pretty busy for you helping at your parents, it went fairly quickly though. Usually during the week you will talk to Dean a few times and text almost everyday, even if it’s just sending the other a funny picture. This week you hadn’t heard from him at all. Guess he was too busy at work with Jo.

The party had been going on for an hour and you still hadn’t seen Dean yet. Sam, Jess, Cas and Meg had all arrived half an hour ago.

It was thirty minutes later when Dean finally arrived. Finding his brother and friend first he said hello to them before looking for you. Finally spotting you talking to a group of people, he hung out behind you for a few minutes before a woman looked up at him and said hello. This had you turning around.

“Hello Dean, so glad you could finally make it.” Was it chilly in here or just your voice.

“Oh, you’re Dean!” Exclaimed the woman who first spotted him.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he gave her a small smile.

The woman looked to you before going back to Dean, “It’s nice to finally meet you, it seems like my daughter has forgotten her manners. I'll introduce myself, I’m Alicia. It's nice to meet you. Y/N said you had helped her with the baking last week. I have to say you two make a great team, thank you for helping her.” She glanced over at you looking at the floor, “I need to go check the food, I’m sure I’ll see you around, Dean.”

“Sorry I’m late, I got called back into work.”

“The shop closes at one on Saturday’s, it’s 8:30 now. Did you walk home and then here?”

“No, Jo was trying to finish up paperwork for November that had to be sent in today. She called me in to explain some of the notes, and expenses. Bobby and Ellen were out of town today so she couldn’t ask them. It took awhile and she wanted to grab dinner, I told her I had a party to be at, but she kept pushing and I went with her for one drink.”

“It’s fine Dean, nothing said you had to be here when it started, or stay the whole time. Have fun, your brother and Cas are around here somewhere. I need to go check the dessert table.”

Turning and quickly walking away, Dean was too caught off guard by your distance to follow right away. You had never given him the cold shoulder like that, he didn’t like it. By the time he caught up to you again, someone else had pulled you into conversation. Waiting a few minutes for you to finish, finally deciding to go find Sam and the rest of that group when you didn’t. He was fairly certain you were upset with him, and that didn’t sit well at all.

He passed by the food set up in the dining room, and kept going. As much as he was starving when he got here, he seemed to have lost his appetite now. Meg and Jess were gone when he rejoined the guys. He pretended to listen to their conversation, but he wasn’t really there. Why were you so mad, was it because he was late, or did something else happen? Why did you care when he showed up, there were numerous other people here. His original plan was to come early and see if you needed help, but going over paperwork with Jo took much longer than expected. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on her work.

Excusing yourself from the family friend who cornered you , you made your way to your old room. Needing a few minutes of alone time to calm yourself down. You were jealous, but no way would you admit that to anyone else. Your door opened minutes after you shut it, looking up Jess and Meg walked in sitting across from you on the bed.

“Partied out already, or hiding from someone?” Meg gave you a knowing look waiting for your answer. “You do know Dean is downstairs right?”

“Neither, I just needed a minute, too many people down there for me. Yeah, I know he finally showed up, not that I care”

“Liar,” spoke up Jess.

“The two of us are completely sure you being up here has nothing to do with a green eyed bowlegged mechanic you have been looking for all night.”

“Nope, not at all. Why should I care if he spent the evening helping the boss’ daughter do paperwork, or that he took her out for dinner.” Staring at your friends you didn’t say anything else.

“Yep you're just fine,” when you didn’t say anything else Meg continued, “know we are here whenever you want to talk about whatever is going on in your head.”

You all rejoined the party. This was always one of your favorite nights as much as you were looking forward to having Dean here tonight, you weren’t up to seeing him right now. You had caught up with your friends on and off the rest of the night. Mostly when Dean had stepped away. You were ready for the night to be over.

Sunday morning Dean stood outside your apartment door knocking without any answer. The door behind him opened but he didn’t realize it until hearing a voice he knew well.

“You know I live in 43 right?”

“Yes, bitch, I do. Y/N lives in 44. She was off last night and I wanted to talk to her. Picked up breakfast on the way over so she wouldn’t have to make anything. But if she doesn’t open the door I can’t give it to her.”

“Jerk, It’s still a bit early, did you text her?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t respond.”

“You’re welcome to wait for her in here if you want to try again in a bit.” After knocking again, he followed Sam inside.

Rolling over in bed, you reached over petting the dog laying next to you. You missed having a dog around, but your apartment wasn’t pet friendly. Grabbing a sweatshirt you made your way downstairs to see what your parents were up to. You had decided to spend last night in your old room so you would be here to help with any more clean up this morning. It was a good hour later when it finally dawned on you that you hadn’t checked your phone this morning. Picking it you realized the battery died, and you didn’t bring a charger. You were the only one without an iPhone so their chargers wouldn’t work on yours. That will have to wait till I get home later.

Getting off the elevator later that afternoon you ran into Sam. “Hey, Dean was looking for you earlier, but you never answered your door. He waited for awhile, but had to get going.”

“I stayed at my parent’s last night, and didn’t take a charger for my phone. Thank you guys for coming last night.”

“It was fun, thanks for inviting us. When your phone has a charge, text Dean back, he has texted me a few times since he left asking if I’ve seen you.”

“Alright, talk to you later Sam.”

When your phone finally had some life you sent Dean a text apologizing for missing him when you weren’t home.

“Can I come over?” Dean texted back.

You had to debate with yourself whether you wanted him to or not. He had done a lot to help you last week, and been a much needed friend. Did he really deserve the cold shoulder because you were jealous? You texted back ‘If you want.’

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door, putting on a smile you let Dean in. Maybe you could pretend your behavior last night didn’t happen.

“Hi Dean.”

“Hey Y/N, thanks for letting me come over.”

“Not a problem, how was your day?”

“Alright, a little worried my friend is mad at me, and I really want to fix that. I’m sorry I was so late. I was actually going to come early and see if you needed help, I’m sorry work got in the way. I tried to bring you breakfast this morning so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed and mess with anything this morning.”

Guess he wasn’t going to go along with your plan to pretend it didn’t happen. “I’m sorry Dean, I shouldn’t have gotten that upset. You didn’t have to be there right at 7, I was excited to have you there last night and it shouldn’t have mattered when you came. I should have enjoyed having you there when you arrived. I ruined it for both of us, I’m sorry. Sorry, I missed breakfast with you this morning.”

“It’s okay, I just really don’t want to lose my friend. If you really wanted to make it up to me, go shopping with me tomorrow night? I need some help with Jess and Mom, please?” He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Sure, I still have a bit to do also.” Dean had been the best thing to happen to you in awhile, you didn’t want to lose him either. Hopefully a night at the mall could help things go back to the way they were. “Pick me up after work?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Have you eaten dinner yet? I have leftovers from the party if you want to stay for dinner?”

“Seriously? Yes, I didn’t end up getting anything last night.”

Both of you worked in the morning, so instead of starting a movie after dinner you just turned a tv show on. Tonight you two didn’t sit as close as you previously did, honestly you missed it. You made small talk, he asked how things were at your parents’ house. You told him everything cleaned up fairly quick, staying there made you miss having your dog around.

Snow was lightly falling on the way to the mall, you were hoping for a white Christmas. Dean asked about your day, not much happened for you at work. He was telling you about a classic car that just came in he was working on. He really enjoyed his job, his green eyes shining as he talked about the different parts that needed restoring.

Arriving at the mall it became clear Dean really didn’t have any ideas on what to get either woman, so you offered various suggestions in the stores you were in. Finally getting Jess done, Dean picked up a scarf you knew she wanted, and some fun picture frames to go on her collage wall. His mom was proving trickier.

“Any hobbies?” you asked, leaving the 6th different store.

Dean thought for a moment, “She does like horror movies.”

“Yeah, I’m coming to realize you are all obsessed with monsters. How about not for Christmas. Any place she mentioned she would want to go?”

He thought for a few minutes “Actually I heard her talking to Jess about a new place that opened up in town.” When Dean finished telling you about you pulled out your phone to see if you could google it. Finding what you needed you explained your idea to Dean and what you could get up here and what he would need to get once he was back in Kansas.

With that accomplished you two wandered around a few more stores looking for items to fill the rest of your lists.

Thursday was the next time you saw Dean, running into him in the apartments’ parking lot. He was on his way to meet Sam for something. Making small talk in the elevator, without thinking you asked something you didn’t really want to know.

“How’s Jo been?”

Dean gave you a funny look, “I don’t really know, she hasn't been in the shop the last couple days.”

“Oh, I thought you might talk to her outside of work.” What are you doing Y/N, do you really want to know this.

“No. I don’t really have a reason to need to talk to the boss’s daughter outside of work.”

“Okay. I have something in my apartment for you, I meant to drop off. If you have time stop over before you leave.”

“Is it pie?”

“Sorry, not this time.”

When you got inside your apartment you went to check and see what ingredients you had in your cupboard. Finding pecans and a pack of crescent rolls you decided to whip up something quick. A little over an hour later you heard a knock at your door. Inviting Dean in you walked back over to the kitchen where the timer was going off.

“Something smells amazing.”

“I didn’t have any fruit to make a regular pie filling, but I did have some pecans I never used for the party, I made you a pecan pie bar, I hope it’s okay.” You could almost see Dean’s mouth start to water. “I’ll get you a fork and plate.”

“I don’t need a plate, the pan is fine.”

While Dean was eating you grabbed the item you picked up for him from the spare room.

“I know you don’t have a tree because you won’t be here for Christmas, but I thought you needed something. Even if it’s not real.” You had picked him up a little prelit tree and decorated it to have in his house.

“It’s great, thanks Y/N. You didn’t have to do that though.” Dean gave you a hug as you set it down next to the pan of bars.

“I know, I wanted to. You can set it on that skinny table you have and set the presents underneath it after you wrap them.”

“Oh, that’s right I have to wrap them. Hey sweetheart, do you think you might come over one night and help me with…”

“Seriously Winchester? How would you ever make it without me, do you even have paper?” Laughing you agreed to come over Saturday and wrap what he had.

“Of course I do.”

Knowing you were just hanging around the house and wrapping presents you put on yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt to head to Dean’s knowing he would be hanging out in sweats by now too. Sure enough he answered the door in a grey henley and black sweats. The fireplace was on in the living room and with the presents and wrapping paper on the coffee table. Dean ordered pizza and found Die Hard on tv. He was sitting on the couch watching you work, when you looked up at him.

“Are you planning on helping me at all or just watching?”

“Which answer won’t get me in trouble?” The bitch face you sent his way might rival Sam’s. “I was kidding, I was just watching how you do it. Very nice wrapping by the way.” The roll of wrapping paper flying at him barely missed his arm.

Two presents into Dean wrapping, you knew why he wanted help. When the pizza arrived you set him free. Finishing the last gift you leaned back against the couch rolling your shoulders to loosen them up after being hunched over. Dean was sitting up on the couch behind you and leaned down to rub your stiff shoulders.

“Thanks for that.”

“Least I could do for you wrapping those.” Before you left for the night you put the gifts under his tree best you could.

You spent the next week trying to catch up with your own Christmas shopping, get the cards in the mail, and trying to find time to just enjoy the Holidays. Friday night you, Charlie, Meg and Jess donned your best ugly sweaters and leggings, spending the evening at your place vegging out and watching movies.

You woke up early Saturday morning to head to Dean’s house before he left. Knocking on his door he was surprised to see you.

“I just wanted to stop over before you left. I brought you some of the desserts to take to your parents house.” You had given Dean a plate of them the weekend before when you came over to wrap. “I expect those to make it to Kansas so you better put them in the trunk.”

“I don’t know sweetheart, I might need a snack for the road. Eleven hours is a long trip.”

“I figured you would, there is a bag of the cherry pie cookies in there for you.”

“You are too good to me.” Giving you a kiss on the cheek he walked past you to put them in his car while you followed him over.

“Do you need help doing anything before you go?”

“I’m all set, car is loaded, just have to refill the coffee in my travel mug, wash the pot and lock up the house.

Waiting while Dean finished with his coffee you walked out to the car with him. “Have a safe trip, and Merry Christmas. See you when you get back.”

“Thank you sweetheart. Thanks for your help and the cookies. Have a Merry Christmas yourself.” With a hug you walked to your own car watching the Impala drive away.

You were definitely going to miss him this week. A little after one that afternoon you received a text from Dean saying he was in Springfield, Illinois and halfway there, he would text you when he arrived at his parents. Around seven, that text arrived along with a picture of a house you were guessing belonged to John and Mary. The two of you talked a few times over the week, he called later than usual Tuesday night, and seemed to be really down.

On Christmas Eve you went to Mass with your family before heading to your parents house for dinner with your grandparents, some of your parents siblings, and cousins. Games followed and a few hours later the house cleared out. You spent the night there since you would be having Christmas morning there with your dad’s family. Dean had texted you a few times throughout the day, Sam arrived today so you hoped he could help his brother with whatever was going on.

Christmas morning you sent Dean a text before helping your mom with breakfast. Your dad’s family spent the morning at the house before heading elsewhere for the afternoon. Your mom’s family started coming over around 2, they stayed for dinner and games. You loved your family but were glad to have an empty house spending time with your parents when everyone was gone.

That evening you went back to your apartment. Sitting on the couch looking at your Christmas tree you saw a big gift bag Jess had dropped off before leaving town. She told you you couldn’t open it till Christmas, that was now right? Grabbing it you brought it back to the couch with you.

First you pulled out a big oddly wrapped lump, unwrapping it you found a Chocolate Lab plush. He reminded you of your dog you had growing up. The next item was a t-shirt that had you cracking up. In the bottom of the bag was a card.

Y/N,

I think this goes to show what we both already knew, I can’t wrap worth a damn. This guy reminded me of the pictures I have seen in your apartment. He might not be able to follow you around, or bark at strangers, but hopefully he can keep you company. I got a laugh out of the shirt and I hope you do too.

Merry Christmas Sweetheart,

Dean

Dean called you later that evening.

“Hi, Merry Christmas Dean.”

“Merry Christmas to you Y/N. How was your day?”

“It was good. Scooby and I are relaxing back home now.”

“Good, um who’s Scooby?”

“This really cute chocolate lab plush that my good friend got me. Thank you Dean, he’s great.”

“Not a problem Sweetheart. Glad you like him, Scooby?”

“That was my dog's name growing up, I was a big Scooby Doo fan. Still am”

He started laughing, “So was I. Yeah, I wouldn’t rush to change the channel if it was on now either.”

The two of you talked more about your days. He was ready to leave, but Sam and Jess were riding back with him, and he didn’t want to pull them away yet. Something happened while he was home, he didn’t sound like himself. If you had to guess it was why he called you Tuesday night. You wondered if you would find out what that was.

Part 5

Thank you for reading!

Tags @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth@anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278 @fantasydevil2002

Falling For You tags- @halesandy @abuavnee @hearteyes-j2 @vicmc624 @440mxs-wife @wonder-cole @maralisa124 @krazykelly

#Falling For You #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #Dean x Female Reader

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saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 4 years ago

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Arsinoe&Billy 4 🤗🤗

This one was fun. Also the child of forced Heterosexuality™ was fun to write!

Teacher/Single Parent AU

Arsinoe has to say, that of all the students she teaches, the one who is simultaneously her favourite and also her least favourite was Mary Chatworth. The young blonde girl was bright and as sharp as a whip but also seemed to be the most pissed at the world and questioned every single thing any authority figure said to her. Which was fine with Arsinoe (she remembers being seventeen and traumatised) but made it extraordinarily difficult for her to teach the course content on time.

But, she wasn’t going to call Mary’s parents. Getting a young women in trouble for wanting knowledge wasn’t her style.

Which was why she was surprised when she got a phone call from Mary’s father. He had simply requested a meeting with her and that was that.

He was waiting by the office building and turned to her when she approached. She was almost thrown off balance for a second as he watched her approach with his deep hazel eyes. Still, she remained professional and reached a hander out.

“Hi, you must be William. I’m Arsinoe, Mary’s legal studies teacher,” she says as he takes her hand a shakes. His hand is warm and smooth and he flashes her a blinding white smile.

“Just Billy is fine. Only my mother calls me William. Shall we?” He says with a warm voice and gestures for them to go. She nods and lets him fall into step with her.

“So, I was surprised to hear from you. I saw no reason to contact you regarding Mary so I have to ask why you wished to speak to me?” She asks, turning into her classroom and taking a seat at on of the desks. Billy sits across from her with a sigh.

“I got a call from a Mr. Arron saying her behaviour was unacceptable and I should ask any of Mary’s other teachers and they would say the same thing. You’re her favourite teacher so I was hoping you could enlighten me to her behaviour. I’m really worried about her lately…,” he trails off and she shoots him a confused look. He catches it and sighs again, running a hand through his clean cut blonde hair, “her mum and I split up amicably when she was younger but lately she’s not reacting well to Christine’s partner. I really am hoping Mr. Arron is wrong,” he says nervously and Arsinoe laughs.

“Don’t tell him I said this, because I have to see him at family lunch on Saturdays, but Arron is wrong most of the time. Mary is fine, she wants knowledge and asks a lot of questions, which can make it hard to move onto the next topic, but one should never fault a student, especially a young woman, for wanting to learn more. Arron’s just a tool,” she says with a smile. Billy laughs quietly.

“And you’re related to Arron? Who you just called a tool?”

“He and my sister drunkenly eloped years ago, I still haven’t forgiven him for not inviting me,” she shrugs. He laughs again, gentle lines forming around his eyes. “Oh and feel free to tell him you talked to me when you go see him. I have the power of making him sleep on the couch whenever I want so…,” they laughed again.

“Well, I might go see him now,” Billy says standing. Arsinoe stands with him and shakes his hand. “I’ll make sure to pass on your information to him. Thank you for being so gracious with Mary, she really does enjoy your classes,” he goes to walk away and she is almost sad to see him go until he turns back to her and seems to pause as if considering what to say. Finally, he seems to work it out. “Feel free to say no, but would you like to go to dinner with me sometime? As a date?”

Arsinoe doesn’t let her happy surprise show on her face and instead moves to her desk at the back of the room, grabbing a pen and a slip of paper.

“I would like that. Here’s my number,” she scrawls it quickly and hands it off to him. “Have fun telling Pietyr he’s wrong.”

It seems that no-one in her family realised that Mary Chatworth noticed everything, even with her head in a book. She knew that her mum liked women before her new step-mother came into the picture, she knew her grandmother became less of a bigot after her grandfather died.

And she knew her dad was seeing someone new, and it was going well, considering he had been going on dates with obviously the same person for the last 6 months. Which led her to her current predicament. She was spying.

She had been steadily following her dad in traffic, staying two cars back so he didn’t notice she was following. Eventually he dropped his car off with a valet at a fancy restaurant - too fancy for her to have ever been taken to. Still, she gets lucky when her dad is seated in front of the window. He orders something with the server and waits, so she waits.

Her phone dings and she looks over at it.

Message from Mum: How’s the stakeout going? Also, will you be home in time for dinner?

She texts back, Boring, Dad’s still waiting, and probably not but could you put a plate in the microwave in case?

Message from Mum: Will do. Also, tell me if she looks interesting so I can tease Billy about it later. Love you

She snorts and throws her phone down on the passenger seat, watching her dad in the restaurant again. Finally, she sees him smile and stand, kissing a woman who approaches him. She is as tall as him with dark hair chopped around her chin and when they pull away Mary is stunned.

“Holy fucking shit,” she whispers to the empty car before lifting her phone and snapping a photo, sending it off to her Instagram group chat.

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: Are y’all seeing what I’m seeing?

Evil Twin Uno to Mary is the only Responsible One™: is that your dad on a date with ms. queen? holy shit bro

Evil Twin Dos to Mary is the only Responsible One™: crap dude are you okay?

Self-proclaimed Dingus to Mary is the only Responsible One™: that’s somewhere between oof and yikes

Viv with no nickname to Mary is the only Responsible One™: babe if you wanna come get high with me to forget that image, feel free to come over.

Mary scoffed at that. If there was one thing she would not be doing tonight, it was getting high. Her step-mother had the nose of a drug-sniffing dog.

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe tomorrow night when I’m staying at dad’s

Everyone’s debatable favourite to Mary is the only Responsible One™: yeah, get out of the house so your dad can spend spend quality time with you legal teacher *wink emoji*

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: I hate you

Everyone’s debatable favourite to Mary is the only Responsible One™: wait, you’re not at your dad’s tonight. Stick around and see if they leave together

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: ew ew ew ew ew ew fuck you fuck everyone.

She threw her phone back onto the seat and continued to watch. She had to admit, it was kind of nice to see her dad smile like he was now. She was so used to see him stressed or disciplining her that even though he laughed, he didn’t smile as much as he was on this date.

She threw her head back and groaned. If it came down to her opinions about it and her dad being happy, she had to let her dad being happy, even with a woman who she saw everyday in class.

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Viv with no nickname: If they leave together I’m coming to get high. I need an excuse to be at dad’s house tomorrow morning.

Viv with no nickname to Somehow the HBIC (MChat): I’ll save you a joint

She wasn’t still high, but she still smelled undoubtedly like weed, which is why she went to her dad’s. Plus, she wanted to see whether Ms. Queen had stayed over. She let herself into the house and went straight to the kitchen. She really wanted peanut butter for some reason and she knew her dad loved that shit.

She grabs a spoon from a drawer and the peanut butter jar from the pantry and hops up on to the counter, crossing her legs and twisting the cap off.

She’s happily eating spoons of peanut butter on her kitchen bench when she hears her dad’s bedroom door swing open and footsteps that are definitely not her dad’s pad down the hall. She braces herself just as Ms. Queen comes into the kitchen and freezes. Mary looks over the teacher, wearing the dorkiest glasses, one of her dad’s sleep shirts and a pair of shorts.

They stare awkwardly at each other until the teacher rubs her nose and fixes her glasses.

“You look and smell like you spent the night getting high. Let me guess, Vivian?” Mary nods silently and Queen snorts.

“Sorry, miss,” she says and Queen shudders.

“To start, I’m wearing one of your dad’s shirts, we’re at the point where you can call me Arsinoe and to finish, I don’t care, so long as you were doing anything to endanger yourself or anyone else. I’m not trying to be your mum, you already have enough of them, right?” Arsinoe says and grabs another spoon before pushing herself onto the counter. Mary offers her the peanut butter with a smile.

“My step-mum was super overbearing when it first became evident she would be around a while, so thanks, I guess,” Mary says, resting her head against the cupboard behind her. Arsinoe passes the peanut butter back.

“Well, I don’t know how long I’ll be around, but I really like your dad so I hope it’s a while. But I was seventeen once and I remember how much it sucked ass, so you don’t have to worry about me cramping your style,” Mary interrupts her with a snort and Arsinoe laughs, “wow I really sounded old then, huh?” Mary nodded.

“It’s fine. My mum still says tubular,” Mary says, meeting Arsinoe’s eyes for a beat and suddenly both were laughing.

“Ah, good to see you two getting along. What are you doing here kid? You’re meant to be at your mum’s,” Billy says as he enters the kitchen.

“I, uh, may have gone and smoked with Viv last night and you know what Denise is like,” she shrugged and her dad pursed his lips at her.

“I don’t approve of you getting high but I am glad you were honest about it and that you came someplace you feel safe. Now go text your mum you’re alright and sleep it off, please?” He says. Mary passed Arsinoe the peanut butter and hopped off of the counter, hugging her dad.

“Arsinoe can stay, she’s chill,” she compliments. Her dad smiles happily before ruffling her hair and sending her off to her room.

Send me a number and I’ll write a fic

#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #kendare blake #queen arsinoe #billy chatworth

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brianblase · 4 years ago

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Wizardry Spoon Cereal. The High-Protein, Low-Carb Cereal That is All Over Instagram—and It's Quite Acceptable

I'm always failing to return to customary oat.

Brian Blase

When I began telecommuting in the start of isolate, I ended up on a cereal kick. I at long last had the opportunity to plunk down and have breakfast in the first part of the day. But, one bowl was never enough to keep me full until lunch, so I'd be ravenous again several hours.

My morning meal presumably required more protein to keep me satisfied. Yet I would not like to surrender the accommodation (and taste) of cereal. So when I got an email about a high-protein, low-carb oat brand that might actually keep me full for more.

After a speedy look at Wizardry Spoon's site, I understood I'd been seeing the brand all over Instagram. You can't miss its very vivid stylish. With more than 171,000 adherents on the stage, it has a bigger online media following. Its Instagram-commendable cereals had sprung up on my investigate page. I chose to check this protein-stuffed cereal out.

Sold in cases that incorporate 4 boxes of oat every, Wizardry Spoon offers a lot of various fun flavors. You can pick the assortment pack. It incorporates exemplary flavors like iced, cocoa, blueberry, and fruity. You can decide on a solitary flavor on the off chance that you know what you need. Additionally the Nutty pack, which highlights two boxes. Every one of the brand's most up to date contributions: nectar nut and peanut butter. Perhaps you’re asking yourself, where can I buy magic spoon cereal? You can purchase magic spoon cereal in amazon or Walmart. Check here for more information.

https://www.amazon.com/magic-spoon/s?k=magic+spoon

My opinion about Sorcery Spoon oat

I went for the Nutty choice, among the magic spoon cereal flavors, and when my bundle showed up, I presented myself with a bowl as an evening nibble. It would pose a flavor like cardboard, yet I'm still in shock how delightful it was. It helped me to remember normal oat, a piece crunchier, which was an or more for me since I disdain when oat gets spongy. Additionally, it tasted sweet enough to fulfill my sweet cereal yearnings. What's more, not normal for some other "sound" protein-stuffed tidbits. Wizardry Spoon didn't leave an awful persistent flavor in my mouth.

In any case, the genuine test was checking whether it would keep me full from breakfast to lunch. Around 9 a.m. the following morning, I had around two servings. One is in fact 3/4 cup with unsweetened vanilla almond milk. The other a cut banana before continuing with work for the afternoon. Following two hours, I was hoping to feel hunger. It happens not long after I eat a customary bowl of oat. In any case, I am dazzled to find that I didn't feel any cravings for food until after 1 p.m.

I additionally love the capricious boxes. Every one has some good times character on the front and a labyrinth on the back. It is extraordinary. In case you're the kind of individual who likes to understand bundles while you eat you will love it. It brought back nostalgic cherished recollections of having cereal for breakfast. Especially before making a beeline for the bus station for school.

Is Wizardry Spoon cereal sound?

At the point when you take a gander at a case of Sorcery Spoon oat, you'll see a huge load of popular expressions. Magic spoon cereal ingredients include high-protein, keto-accommodating, sans gluten, and then some. The nourishment realities shift somewhat by flavor. Most have 110 calories, 11 grams of protein, 10 grams of carbs, 4.5 grams of fat, and 0 grams of sugar for every 3/4 cup serving. The cereal was pretty much as solid as its nourishment name appears, I tapped Makayla Meixner, MS, RDN. The main dietitian at GreenChoice to confirm.

As per Meixner, Sorcery Spoon's nutrition facts suggests high protein sum is incredible. This is because it will help save you more full for more. "Besides to the fact that protein is significant at breakfast. This is to 'break the quick' and supply your body with much-required amino acids. It's also helpful to spread your protein consumption out for the duration of the day to keep up bulk," she adds.

And afterward there's its low sugar content. "Conventional oats contain high measures of added sugar," notes Meixner. "Unreasonable added sugar admission may add to heftiness and constant sicknesses. The Dietary Rules for Americans prescribes restricting added sugar admission to under 10%. This is for your every day calories."

Most kinds of Enchantment Spoon contain 0 grams of sugar for every serving. A serving of Iced Pieces grain, in correlation, has 14 grams of added sugar. See the difference. Wizardry Spoon gets it's anything. From a mix of allulose, priest natural product separate, and steviol glycosides. It "gives pleasantness zero calories or carbs," as indicated by Meixner.

Be that as it may, there's one drawback to sans grain oat. "Its large scale cosmetics might be best for those after a low-carb or ketogenic diet. But its micronutrient cosmetics doesn't pile up to other grain-based cereals," says Meixner. Be that as it may, you're not stuck between a rock and a hard place in the event that you actually need it for breakfast.

"To help supply a few supplements Sorcery Spoon is inadequate. With regards to, you can finish off the oat with your number one nuts and seeds," she says. "Nuts and seeds contain almost no carbs. Contains differing measures of selenium, zinc, iron, and a few other helpful supplements. Additionally, some plant-based milks, for example, soy milk—contain iron, and unsweetened assortments. It contains less carbs than cow's milk per serving."

Cost is another factor to remember. It's a direct-to-customer brand. Wizardry Spoon is accessible to buy on its site, and at $39 for 4 boxes, it's not as modest as your average oat. Be that as it may, the brand thinks about its oat to protein bars and shakes. This makes the cost of $1.39 per serving appear to be more sensible. In case you're hoping to save, you can get 10% off of your request by picking the buy in and save alternative. This brings the cost per case down to $35, besides to free delivery. (Try not to stress, you can drop it whenever.)

Enchantment Spoon will not be the lone food I have for breakfast. I realize that I'll go after it at whatever point I'm wanting a bowl of cereal. Or when am feeling too lethargic to even think about cooking toward the beginning of the day. It tastes astonishing and keeps me feeling full. I can't envision myself returning to customary acquired oat once more.

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cinematicnomad · 5 years ago

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wait. you don't like pEANUT BUTTER??

lol, i do not. but i swear that i have a good excuse! or at least an explanation.

so first, know that my family was not a big peanut butter family in the first place. i ate a lot of ham and cheese sandwiches as a kid, never pb&j (or grilled cheese—apparently when my mom was pregnant with me, my big brother would ask her to make him a grilled cheese everyday? so that he could take it with him to school for lunch. and she’d cook it first thing while dealing with morning sickness and then thinking about the fact that the grilled cheese was just going to sit in my brother’s lunch box for hours coagulating and getting gross and....anyway, suffice it to say, i didn’t eat my first grilled cheese until i was in high school and a friends mom made us some). ANYWAY. my point. i didn’t eat peanut butter as a kid so really had no positive associations with it.

second, i had a lisp as a kid. a pretty bad one. i couldn’t pronounce my s-, th-, or -er’s. i was apparently difficult to understand (my aunt once went to my mom and was like “....i think there is A Problem bc no one understands your daughter when she talks” and my mom was like “pssht you are blowing this out of proportion she’s fine”) and eventually my school sat my parents down in kindergarten or first grade and were like, “look, your kid needs speech therapy now or else.” so for the next, oh, 3–4 years, i went to speech therapy like once a week. and probably would have continued to go to speech therapy (which was considered ‘special education’) for many more years to come but then my family was moving to germany and my new school was like “she’s in special education??? we will Not Accept her bc we’re elitist rich judgmental assholes” and my speech therapist had to ‘graduate’ me early and say that i was all better so that my new school would allow me to matriculate. bc apparently a 4th grader who needs speech therapy would have been An Issue for them.

(a few years down the line my dad got a new boss who was like. the big man in charge at the US consulate. and one of his kids was on the spectrum and my school pulled the same bullshit and was like “we will take your Normal™ Child but not the other one.” but then my dad’s boss called them on their bluff and was like “fine, we will send both of our kids to the school on the other side of town that has a slightly lesser reputation.” and then AFTER THAT every single family who joined the consulate and had to consider where to send their kids to school was like “well, where does the boss send his kids??” and they all followed his lead and my shitty school lost out on SO MUCH MONEY and it was amazing.)

I DIGRESS.

the point: speech therapy kind of sucks and it can be a little embarrassing bc you get pulled out of class and miss most of the lunch hour and everyone knows that you’re ~*different*~. so obviously my speech therapist was like, well how can i give these kids a treat while also helping them with their speech issues??

and her solution was to give us a spoonful of peanut butter and try to enunciate around that.

which like, for the other kids i’m sure was great! bc they all had positive associations with peanut butter! and it was like a fun, delicious, surprise treat in the middle of the day!

BUT NOT FOR ME.

bc i never fucking ate peanut butter at home, so this was basically my first real introduction to it. and it was accompanied by like. struggle and mortification and shame and frustration and failure as i tried and failed to enunciate my th-’s or whatever while my speech therapist would correct me and make me try again. and just somewhere in my brain the association stuck and now peanut butter just sets me on edge and the smell makes me gag.

anyway this was a long winded way of saying i basically have peanut butter related trauma and reese’s suck.

#ask #anonymous #okay i actually have fun telling this story #it is not Traumatic™ it's just amusing #my parents have actually become peanut butter people in their old age #my mother was eating peanut butter this morning and the smell drove me away from the kitchen #also at the start of the pandemic i was so worried about buying foods with shelf life my mom convinced me to buy peanut butter #which i did not touch and then promptly abandoned when i drove down to SC #and at one point my roommate was like 'all the grocery stores are out of PB can i pLEASE eat yours'#and i was like 'of fucking course please get rid of it'#and when i returned she was like 'i can replace it for you!!'#and i was just like 'dear god no thank you. do not want.'#ANYWAY #peanut butter is the worst and the snacket pisses me off every year bc reese's make it way too far #i feel like i need a tag for when i tell life stories #it doesn't feel the same as #kat liveblogs her life

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hoodoo12 · 5 years ago

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Chapter 14/15 SFW

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

@tutlepated @anyamercury @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice

Luckily, Lisette wasn’t the type to curl up and cry continuously about a shitty situation. The next day, eating peanut butter right out of the jar with a spoon because she was out of bread, she was back in his room with all her books, not just the heavy-hitters.

He’d have helped her go through them, but their wards combined with the chalk circle wouldn’t allow him to touch them. The only other was her journal, and she was reluctant to pass it over to him.

So instead she read passages out loud. Several times he shushed her, and once she’d uttered a name that made him rush the barrier again so quickly he hit it just like the very first day in his urgency to stop her. Some things shouldn’t be poked awake, Beetlejuice warned her, looking over his shoulder and into the corners of the room as if he expected a visit from something especially vile.

Lisette took his advice and after that held the book up so he could read certain words instead of saying them.

Over the next three days, they came up with exactly nothing.

Lisette had taken to sleeping on the floor in his room with a pillow and a blanket. Once again, Beetlejuice watched her sleep. It made him feel odd, knowing this breather actively chose to be close to him. He’d lost any advantage he may have had with her; there was no way for him to drive her out of this fucking house now.

It made him feel even odder to realize he wanted her to be able to leave, but he didn’t want to drive her away.

Finally, on day four, he said, “If you break the circle, it’ll probably break the connection between you and me.”

There. He offered a chance for her salvation. He said it out loud. She’d probably been thinking it anyway.

Lisette studied him, but didn’t reply. Still, he shrugged as though she had. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll still be here, having the time of my afterlife in this beautiful house in a quintessential New England town.

“You only said my name twice, babes. I’m not free, but you will be,” he continued, like it meant nothing to him even though it tore him up inside. “You can go, grab some greasy fast food, and put all this shit behind you. You don’t even have to look back as you’re driving away. Hell, just flip this quintessential New England town off in your rear-view mirror. I know I would.”

She shifted on the hardwood floor.

“Beetlejuice,” she said, and he couldn’t help it; he groaned in longing when she said his name. For a second she pressed her lips together, then went on. “I was still hired to get you out of here. How would I do that if I just left?”

He wanted to scream, “Say my name three times!” but she continued speaking.

“I can free you. I can just repeat your name, and that’d be more powerful than this stupid chalk circle.”

Beetlejuice held his non-existent breath. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?! They were on the same wave length?! She was going to say his name and set him free?!

Lisette sighed. “But . . .” What? What but?!

“ . . . there was something else in the books. Something I found after you explained exactly what the incantation circle was meant for. I didn’t bring it up because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. But not only are we running out of time, we literally found no other option.”

In spite of his growing anticipatory excitement, a feeling of dread washed over him. He wondered if his hair reflected that; sometimes he just couldn’t control the random colors that appeared in it. With a dry throat, he asked,

“What are you talking about, Lis?”

She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite name. Fear? Sadness? Worry?

After a pause that included a deep breath, she continued.

“I can free you. I can scuff the chalk marks and break the barrier. Or I can say your name three times and that’d do it too--”

A tiny whine escaped him, alerting her to how excited that possibility made him. Lisette didn’t acknowlege his desperation.

“--but even if I do either of those . . .”

Her voice trailed off. Beetlejuice waited for her to finish her thought, but it was difficult not to demand her to spit it out.

Finally she said in a soft voice, “. . . I told you I used my blood. Apparently that wasn’t the greatest idea, because blood makes the ritual stronger. Even if I release you from the circle, even if I do it with your name, we’re still bound together.”

⁂

He’d be free, but . . . not free? Bound to a breather? What did that actually mean? And what did he know about her, anyway? She had some real sensitivity to spectral activity, sure, but she was also a self-admitted con artist. And she was a liar! She had a scary knowledge base since she managed to trap him, which sucked but was intriguing, and he couldn’t deny she was pretty hot under the peasant skirts and tank tops . . . Beetlejuice shook his head to get rid of the distracting, useless thoughts bombarding him to focus on the real thing here: anything was better than how long and what he’d had to endure in this fucking house!

Lisette had continued talking, filling in gaps he hadn’t considered in light of this new development. “There’s really no reason for me to just erase the chalk. What good would that do? If we’re still bound and your restrictions apply, then we’re still in the same boat. You can’t leave the house, so I can’t leave the house. So really, the only viable option is your name, which will set you loose. Then you can leave and that means I can leave. We’re totally getting some food after this--”

Lost in his own swirling thoughts while trying to work through the complexities of what she’d told him, Beetlejuice was only half listening to Lisette’s ramblings, which seemed redundant and circling, and mostly to herself.

“--so, here goes . . . Beetlejuice--”

His name, as always, grabbed his attention. He was and wasn’t ready; should they make sure this really was the only option? He wanted this so badly--

“--Beetlejuice--”

Oh shit oh fuck the second time the second time it was happening he was going to come in his pants she was going to say it, shewasgoingtosayit--

“--Beetlejuice!”

The sweet rush of power that he longed for, that he chased, that only an orgasm could rival, flooded through him. Beetlejuice couldn’t help but grin like a mad man and throw his arms out, a pose he’d learned from Christian icons that just felt so damn good! He hadn’t realized the weight the Netherworld beaucracy had burdened him with, tethering him to this fucking house; like old Scrooge waking up on Christmas morning being released from the chains he’d forged in life he felt lighter and freer; the world was his oyster, and, and--!

Beetlejuice took a breathful of air. He couldn’t stop smiling! With a jaunty tilt of his head, he literally dove at Lisette.

tbc

#beetlejuice #betelgeuse #writing #fanfiction #movie beetlejuice #musical beetlejuice

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erlenmeyertrash · 5 years ago

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ramble about collegiate tips!!!

COLLEGIATE TIPS you get me <3

tips for college... but make it Quarantine: (sidenote these have only been tried by my able-bodied neurotypical self so. this isn’t psychiatric advice)

bored? go on a walk. go physically outside. open a window and take several laps around the house if that can’t happen. do some sit-ups. do some yoga. stretch!! your neck and back and joints!! wash your face. brush your teeth again. lie on your stomach and doodle on paper like you’re 5

can’t focus during a lecture? stand up at your desk. sit on the floor in a patch of sunlight. Change The Surroundings. text your friends (or lmao make a tumblr post) saying i am going to pay attention to this lecture and tell you what i learned afterwards. make it a challenge.

running out of food? can’t find the energy to Make a Meal? peanut butter and honey in a bowl. that’s it. or just a spoonful of peanut butter. also stay hydrated blease

freaking out about grades? life? the future? send an email. email your TA. email your prof. email your advisor. email the counseling center. email your parents. email your pen pal from 2011. i will literally help you draft this email i kid you not.

parents/siblings/roommates making it hard to focus but you hate conflict? slam the door before lecture. write a note and put it on your door. complain about having to listen to a professor via Zoom for hours on end. use headphones. steal headphones. try and explain that the education system has refused to slow down and you need to be able to focus. email the prof and ask for lecture recordings because your home life is super loud/not accommodating.

lonely? schedule discord dates!! zoom dates!! facetime dates!! do a screenshare and host a virtual movie night. heck just call someone for the h e c k of it (and to end it you can just say “well i’ll let you go/i just wanted to check in” so you’re not stuck). social interaction is a Weird Thing rn but it’s boosted my mood to interact with friends so far in any capacity

feel like you��re falling behind? these are unprecedented circumstances. your brain is running on low-power-mode with half the thrusters devoted to a mild fight or flight response. we don’t know how to react to this, and that’s okay! i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. take this one day at a time. NOBODY is out here absolutely flourishing all of a sudden.

disappointed about not physically graduating or getting a ceremony? ...yeah. me too. and it’s okay to feel like crap about it. don’t put yourself down because others might have it worse. be proud of yourself!! this is a huge accomplishment.

when’s the last time you ate a vegetable? yeah, that’s what i thought. go eat a vegetable- and a GOOD one, too, not something that’s 90% water.

okay now for wild-type collegiate:

...it’s. it’s gonna be overwhelming. it’s a lot! you will learn as much about yourself as you do about whatever you decide to study. but here are some tips that i may or may not have already said a thousand times:

drink. water. get a water bottle. get 800 redbubble stickers and slap them on the bottle. now take it everywhere.

make friends with your advisors early on. they’re the ones to write to when you need to get forced into a class your senior year. if you come in for easy questions, are nice, etc. they’ll be much more amiable and willing to help you out.

try to introduce yourself to the prof and/or TA on the first day/week. if nothing else, you’ll be more comfortable if you ever have to panic email them later on

turning in late work is ALWAYS better than no work at all.

i have to sit within the first three rows or i’m a lost cause, so find where you’re the least distracted (likely the first 1-3 rows) and sit there forever

learn how to cut through buildings to shave like 5 minutes and countless weather mishaps off your commute time

know!! your sleep and productivity schedules. try to stick to them. i am physically incapable of being alive for an 8 am, and i’m most productive around sunset, so i love to stick classes between 9:30 and 3:00 with a break in between and calmly let myself eat and de-stress from mid-afternoon until early evening. there are people who can schedule all their classes from 8-10 and be productive all day and i am not one of them. college is the first time you get to plan your schedule, and perhaps will be the only time you can schedule your day to begin at 12:30 in the afternoon, so use that to your advantage

USE AND STICK WITH SOME FORM OF ORGANIZATIONAL SYSTEM. any kind of calendar i swear. it’ll save your life

download and save your syllabi!!!! this is a tip that i really hadn’t heard until i was already in grad school, but this can definitely help when you’re looking at course equivalencies or to talk about work/educational experience. if you haven’t no sweat, just start now

try to make at least mild acquaintances/contacts in each class, especially those major-related- this is just for missed classwork or “what the heck is question 3 even asking me?!” stuff. also make as many friends as you can comfortably handle. don’t overwork yourself socially because you think everyone has to be a social butterfly in college

college isn’t for everyone. your major might not be right for you. your college situation (out-of-state, living on campus, taking 21 hours a semester) might not be right for you. don’t give yourself crap if it is! figure out what you can study and/or work with without burning yourself out, and run full-speed ahead at it. it’s rough to find the balance between “idk i just think this is neat” and “i will spend the next 4+ years studying This and then the rest of my foreseeable future Doing This” but if you miscalculated the first time, just try again.

you will, at some point in college, be rejected from something. or be scared of getting rejected. or get a really, really harsh criticism from someone you admire. do it. don’t back down. rejections are important!! they are learning experiences academically and emotionally. they help you improve and they help you learn how to be rejected. if you graduate college and have Never been rejected from anything in your entire life, the world has set you up for a potential failure when you are completely caught off-guard the first time it happens and you’re well into your late 20s. this is coming from someone who teared up in a therapist’s office at the mere THOUGHT of being rejected from grad school. it’s literally more okay to cry on a college campus than anywhere else in the world

if you can, take a class Outside your major. i’m taking “Dystopian Writers” rn as a genetics major and it’s so neat to hear people discuss stuff i never would have thought about or experienced otherwise.

if you’ve got specific educational/collegiate questions throw em at me- i tried to make this general. however. hope this hELPS

#abby answers #virmillion #collegiatE #:>>>

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years ago

Text

A love that never leaves (4)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. The word rape is said, but only in confusion (nothing ever happens).

A/N: Bucky thinks he fucked up, but she talks him down. Also he loves comfort food and hates stitches and I agree with both those feelings. They learn a little more about each other including a BIG discovery at the end. I’m very hungry after writing this and you’ll see why (diets are stupid).

Tags are open, if you want on the list please send me a DM or ASK, it’s easier for me to track. Otherwise you can find the new updates each weekend!

MASTERLIST ALTNL MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Cold. Always so god damn cold.

The sticky feel of him drying on her thighs is the only indication he was ever more than a dream. Hopeless tears fill her throat and after all this time, she wonders how there are still any left in her body.

It doesn’t matter.

They arrive like a tidal wave, breaking over her, destroying everything in their path and dragging her under.

*****

MISSION REPORT

NEW OBJECTIVE IDENTIFIED. RECONNAISSANCE REQUIRED TO DETERMINE APPROPRIATE COURSE OF ACTION. OBSERVATION WILL CONTINUE FROM A SAFE DISTANCE.

Was this it then? How could it be possible, after all these years? He just wants answers. Something to clarify the jagged outline of the puzzle plaguing him night and fucking day.

Balancing the notebook on his knees, he grips the pencil so tight, the sharp point of lead snaps and goes spinning across the page.

*****

Sometimes when it happens, it’s like running face first into a brick wall.

The outline was there in his brain, a lost memory he never knew he needed to find. Now, with the story she offers, the paintbrush in his head goes crazy, spilling out the colors of an icy, destructive night in Paris. Memories return, a blizzard of blurry faces and voices crackling like radio static.

Black-gloved fingers moving effortlessly over ivory keys. 10, 9, 8. Sparkling people and fizzy champagne. 7, 6, 5. Excited screaming. 4, 3, 2. Beautiful eyes, watching him from across the room. 1. Confetti and balloons bouncing. Screaming. Screaming. More screaming. Terrified screaming. Blood on his fingers, soaking into crisp white cuffs. Slipping like a shadow from a locked room. Stalking through the streets of Paris, heading back to base, until, until, until. The detour. Green paint on her walls, an open window with fluttering curtains. A trembling body dressed in satin and lace. Pleasure. Force. Rough hands, rough words. The feel of her clinging to him like he meant something. Like she wanted him. Heat licking up his spine, heat between her legs, heat in her mouth. And then tears. Sadness. Disappointment. Always, disappointment.

He remains frozen in shock, until he finds his voice. He jumps to his feet.

“Jesus,” he chokes out. He drags shaking hands through his hair and the wild tangles snag around his fingers. “Jesus. Did I - I raped you? Oh, my fucking god, fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t – ”

He falls mute. The apology sits heavy on his tongue and he wants to apologize for an eternity, but this is not for him to be upset. He’s not owed the relief of tears: those are reserved for victims, not criminals. Instead, he remains silent, awaiting the condemnation he deserves.

But to his disbelief, it doesn’t come.

“No! God, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” and now she stands up, trying to assuage his horror. “You didn’t, that’s not what happened.”

“Sure sounds like it was,” Bucky grits out. His hands are clenched at his sides and a faint whirring creeps from his arm when it recalibrates, a physical representation of his panic.

“No,” she repeats forcefully. “Listen to me. That is not what happened. You didn’t, you don’t understand, I wanted – ”

She stops in frustrated confusion.

“Still, I – “

“Bu – sorry, Soldier – “

Apologies collide, and both fall silent. Bucky tries first and his voice is quiet.

“Bucky. Please. My name is Bucky.”

Wetting her lips nervously, she tests the syllables on her tongue.

“Bucky,” she begins, embarrassed. “Listen to me. I hadn’t been with anyone that way for a long time. I wanted - that. I wanted you. That night, I wanted you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands in the pockets of the sweatpants and stares at his socks. They don’t match, and he wonders fleetingly where all the socks in his dryer go. He wiggles his toes as he thinks.

“That night, you were waiting for someone else though – you thought I was someone else. Jimmy.”

He looks up and sees the wind of his words blow the light from her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is tired. “I did. I thought, I hoped, maybe I would see him, but – he didn’t come.”

The look on her face speaks of a loss so devastating, it steals his breath. “Oh,” he finally says. He has nothing else to offer.

Considering the checkered past they apparently share - and he knows it’s all true, the memories are back again, slotted back into the space from where they were previously wiped - Bucky doesn’t understand why she hasn’t thrown his ass out the door. He’s grateful for the reprieve. Undeserving, but grateful. Inflicting his presence on her any longer though, seems selfish.

“I should go,” he says heavily. “Thank you. For saving my ass. For cleaning me up. I didn’t deserve it. I’ll get my stuff and go.”

He takes one step and black spots explode in front of him. Grasping the edge of the couch, he stumbles, and she reaches for him. Leaning clumsily into her, he grunts at the bursts of pain flooding from the wounds in his chest.

“No,” she says. “Those two bullets nearly hit your heart. I don’t even understand how you’re walking right now, but you’re not going anywhere until you’ve fully healed. Please.”

“Really, I’m fine - ”

“Really, you are not,” she interrupts, steel-edged voice brooking no argument. “Stay. I insist. Get some sleep, let yourself heal. Then you can head back.” She hesitates, before the next sentence. “The world can wait, Bucky.”

Something in her tone makes him pause. It feels important, like there’s more to this exchange than meets the eye. Bucky feels the age-old desire to wrack his brain hit him hard.

“Okay,” he mutters, looking down. “If it’s really not a problem - I’ll stay. Just a few days. I, uh, I heal pretty quick.”

“Yes, I thought you might,” she murmurs, letting go of him.

Bucky waits for his vision clear, fiddling with the hair tie around his wrist and snapping it a few times to ground himself. “Once I’m not totally useless though, you gotta let me earn my keep. I’m not lying in bed all damn day.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “If you get up to bed and stay there, I’ll find some things for you to do when you feel better.”

“Helpful things?” Bucky clarifies.

“Yes, helpful things. I promise. Now go back to bed. I didn’t spend all that time stitching you closed so you could rip it all open and bleed on my floors.”

“Alright,” he agrees, giving her a small smile.

There’s that peculiar longing in her voice when she speaks again, the same as he remembered when she found him in the snow and her words brand him in the oddest way.

“Stay as long as you want. It’s nice to have someone around, no one ever comes up here.”

Bucky nods his thanks and shuffles slowly toward the stairs. As he walks, he thinks he hears her whisper his name, but it must be the wind blowing outside.

*****

The odds of Steve flipping his shit when Bucky calls are high. Toying with his phone, Bucky grimaces before he punches the STEVIE G button and waits. Blinking little dots fill his screen, and when it connects, he sees a big forehead and snarls of damp blond hair.

“Hey man. How was it?”

The phone shifts and Steve’s whole face comes into view. He’s eating Skippy peanut butter straight from the jar.

“You were eating that last time I called,” Bucky responds. “You ever gonna do anything useful, or just sit around in your underwear?”

Steve scoops a huge blob and stuffs the spoon defiantly in his mouth. “It’s a new jar,” he mumbles defensively.

“Lazy little shit,” Bucky adds, grinning.

“Okay, time for you to fuck off,” Steve replies, now washing it down with milk straight from a carton with TONY written down the side in black sharpie. “How was it? Find anything?”

“It was fine. Another false alarm.”

“Great. Headed back soon then?”

Bucky chews the inside of his cheek and looks away. “Yeah, about that. So, I may have run into some issues – ”

Milk splashes on the table when Steve bangs the carton down. “What’d you do?”

“Well hell, Rogers, I’m kinda offended. Why do you always assume it’s me?”

Steve snorts like an irritated bull and rolls his eyes. “Because. Have you met you?”

“That’s fair, but this time it wasn’t me. I swear. I was heading back to the hotel and ran into this guy, some Hydra asshat asking if I’d set off the distress signal at the base. Anyway, he’s pretty dead now, but the fucker hit me with a couple gunshots and – ”

“Hit you with a couple what?” Bucky’s always surprised Steve’s voice can hit that high note - it sounds a like he’s taken a kick in the balls. Bucky ignores it and keeps talking.

“– and I’m fine, Steve. It’s fixed, I’m all good, I just want a few days to recover, so I’m staying a little longer.”

Steve’s already stomping into his room and throwing open his closet. Yanking an army green canvas duffel from the top shelf, he throws it on the bed and starts digging through his underwear drawer. Bucky sees a handful of demure blue boxers and one pair with neon pink Captain America shields go flying into the bag while Steve mumbles to himself.

“Steve. Steve. Rogers, listen,” but Steve just plows along, ignoring Bucky and muttering about the shortest flight paths and weather reports and meetings to reschedule and all of a sudden, Bucky panics. Pulling the rip cord, he shouts a single word.

“Kit-Kat!”

Steve freezes.

For good reason.

Years ago, when Bucky was mired in a particularly crappy depressive episode, he decided to make a blanket fort in his room. He stayed huddled in the retreat for a solid week, grudgingly emerging only to scrounge up food and get fresh batteries when his TV remote went dead. It was in the middle of the night, while he was watching ‘Twilight Zone’ reruns, that Steve crept into the room and sat beside him. No words were spoken, he simply hugged his knees to his chest and sat in silence.

During a break, a Kit-Kat commercial came on. The click and snap of the candy bar and the merry little tune of ‘give me a break, give me a break’ squeaked quietly from the TV and Bucky’s voice was groggy when he spoke.

“This is really hard. Sometimes, I just – I need a break.”

Steve hummed his agreement and through the thick blankets, Bucky felt the comforting pressure of Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “I know. How about you and me make a deal? If things get to be too much and we need a real break, where you just get to be alone, no questions asked – we say that. Say Kit-Kat and everyone’ll back off. It’ll be like a safeword. Okay?”

The pile of blankets is silent, but a minute later Steve hears Bucky’s voice whisper. “Okay.”

“But you can’t use it often,” Steve says firmly. “This is only for the big ones. You only get to use it when you really need it. Deal?”

The ‘Twilight Zone’ theme song buzzes from the TV, playing through the entire refrain, before Bucky’s hand slowly emerges from the pile. He holds it in the air and waits. Steve grips his fingers to shake and without thinking, unconscious movements walk them through the stupid super-secret handshake they created in 1927.

Bucky still wonders how the hell his body remembers these things, when his broken brain couldn’t recall his own name for decades. Steve reminds him some things are like that.

Muscle memory. Some things just stick.

The pact is binding. Rarely used, but unbreakable when granted. Since their agreement, Bucky’s used it twice and Steve’s tried it once. Now, Bucky watches Steve’s jaw working, peanut butter smudged in the corner of his mouth, and he knows Steve wants to argue.

But a promise is a promise.

Steve drops the duffel bag with a muffled thump.

“Alright. But you better fuckin’ call if you need something. None of this ‘I can get by on my own’ bullshit. Understood?”

“Hey man, that line was all you, not me,” Bucky reminds him and Steve grunts irritably. “But yeah, ‘course I will. Thanks buddy.”

Before he hangs up, he gives the phone a mocking salute and a wide smile. Steve rolls his eyes and flips him off, very pointedly pushing the end call button.

Silence surrounds him and his smile fades as he looks around the room. Exhaustion fills him then and his limbs feel like lead. Collapsing onto the bed, he buries his face in her pillow and closes his eyes.

*****

He sleeps for 48 straight hours.

He gets up a few times and stumbles to the bathroom, eyes half closed and leaning against the wall because he can barely keep his balance, but otherwise he’s out cold. The gnarled fingers of the nightmares always strangling him slither up his neck, searching for purchase, but they’re rebuffed. Again and again and again, they bay for his blood, but for some unknown reason they’re pushed away.

What a god damn relief.

*****

It’s late morning on the third day, when the sound of his stomach growling kicks him awake. Huffing out a soft whine as he stretches, he rubs the grit from his eyes and lifts the blanket. Tugging gently at the tape around his bandage, he sees splotches of green and yellow bruising around the area, and finds two wounds that look weeks old, scabby and starting to itch.

“Good morning,” he hears and looks up to find her standing in the doorway with a purple mug of coffee.

“H-,” he croaks, voice rusty with disuse, and he clears his throat and tries again. “Sorry. Hey. Good morning.”

She walks slowly toward the bed, as if not to spook him. Bucky tries to smile, wincing just slightly as he struggles to sit up. Extending the mug, he accepts it gratefully and takes a long drink.

“Damn, that’s amazing. Thank you.”

Returning his easy smile, she motions to the wound and holds up a small scissors. “I can take those stitches out, if you want. Unless you’d prefer to do it yourself.”

Letting an unknown person near him with a pair of scissors seems like less than intelligent behavior, but Bucky’s never been a fan of stitches – putting them in or taking them out. Broken bones, concussions, burns, those are no problem. But anything that includes sewing human flesh together? That’s at the top of his nope scale.

“God yeah. Please.” He throws the blankets aside and swings his legs over the edge of the bed looking up at her. “How do you, um…how do you want me?”

“That’s fine, just sit up straight and, um, if you can – lift up your shirt?” Bucky nods and pulls up his t-shirt, removing his right arm and then hesitating. He ends up with it half-way on, keeping his left arm and the thick red scars around his shoulder, hidden from view. Clearing his throat, he looks into his lap and waits.

Kneeling between his legs, her fingers are freezing when they touch his skin and he flinches slightly.

“Sorry,” she murmurs apologetically, pulling away and rubbing her hands on her thighs. “My hands are always cold.”

“S’okay, just surprised me,” Bucky replies quietly. She glances up with a fleeting smile and goes back to work.

For the strangest reason, he feels himself begin to blush. Which makes no sense, because how many times has he been buck-ass naked in front of doctors and never batted an eye. But now, he swallows self-consciously and maybe he sucks in his stomach and flexes just a little, because for some wild reason, he cares what she thinks.

Which makes no god damn sense.

She doesn’t seem to notice though, tongue between her teeth while she snips carefully at the threads and tugs them loose. Once they’re gone, she squeezes a bit of ointment on, rubbing her thumb gently over the scab, and puts a clean bandage in place.

When she’s finished, she looks up to find him staring awkwardly down, his face flushed a splotchy red.

“Are you okay? Do you feel warm?” She reaches a cool hand to his forehead and Bucky gets flustered.

“No, no,” he says hastily, and he nearly tumbles off the bed when he ducks away. “I’m great. Fit as a fiddle. It’s just the fire, kinda hot in here, and you have lots of blankets and they’re so fluffy, and I’m, yeah. Whew! Hot stuff. Anyway.”

Bucky wants to sink into the floorboards. Hot stuff? What the hell was that?! he groans internally. Have you ever even talked to a woman? Get your shit together you fucking moron!

His verbal stupidity surprises her, but thank god she ignores it. Standing up, she crumples the used bandages.

“If you’re tired, you should keep sleeping. It’s good for you.”

Bucky shakes his head and adjusts his shirt. “I’ve slept more these past few days than the past two months. Usually have - nightmares and things,” he tucks loose hair behind his ear, frowning at the admission, “but I’ve slept perfect here. No nightmares at all.”

Her eyes light up at his admission. “That’s great. I’m glad.”

“Besides, you deserve your bed back.”

“No, you’re recovering, you need to stay in here – ”

Bucky holds up both hands to stop her. “Yeah, no. You’re not winning this one. If it’s still okay, I’d like to stay a couple more days. Pay you back for helping me. But I’m taking the couch downstairs and if you try to make me sleep in here, I’ll sleep downstairs anyway and this very comfortable bed will go to waste.”

Hands on her hips, she raises her eyebrows, staring him down. Bucky feels momentarily cowed, but he gives just as good, so he folds his arms and stares back.

Finally, her lips twitch and he hears a small laugh. The sound makes his blood sing.

*****

The days tick by.

And it goes like this.

Every morning, she comes downstairs to find him sitting on the couch, blankets perfectly folded into neat squares. He hands her a cup of coffee, asks what he can help with today, and her long list of home improvements begins to shrink.

Every evening, she makes supper and they talk, and Bucky quickly realizes how much he enjoys these evenings. It should bother him, he thinks, to feel so oddly at ease with this woman who’s essentially a stranger. But he finds himself sharing bits of himself, absorbing those pieces of herself she hands over. He relaxes more in a few days of knowing her, than in months of living with his team in New York.

Every night, she tells him to sleep well and she climbs the stairs up to her bedroom. He listens as she gets ready for bed, the quiet path of her footsteps a soothing predictability. When the footsteps go silent, he fluffs out a blanket and gets comfortable on the couch, so he can think.

And all through the night, he dozes in fits and starts, staying awake in the darkness to keep watch over this unknown woman who saved his life.

*****

“It’s just always so damn cold out there. You know what I miss? Soup.”

“Hmmm. Soup would be good. What kind?”

“Um…potato? My Ma makes the best damn potato soup. Warms your bones right up.”

“I have some potatoes left in the cellar. Come over tonight, I’ll give it a try.”

*****

“Can I ask what you were doing up here?” she asks, stirring her soup. Bucky ignores caution and dives right in, chomping into a steaming potato and gasping in pain.

“Damn, this is amazing, I love potato soup. Haven’t had it in years,” he enthuses, fanning his mouth. He swallows the scorching bite and takes a swig of water. “So, there used to be an old Hydra base near here. Been abandoned forever, but one of the old distress signals went off. I came up to investigate.”

Fishing in the liquid for another potato, he captures one and looks up to meet a wide-eyed stare.

“I never knew there was a base around here. Did you find anything?” she asks tightly. Bucky sees her fingers clutch the spoon so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t snap.

“No, nothing. It’s happened before, couple other places. Old bases breaking down, tech sparking out,” he says quickly. “Never anything wrong when we get there. It’s nothing to worry about, I promise. Just Hydra shit finally crapping out. It’s a good thing.”

“You’re sure?”

Bucky hears it in her voice. He’s intimately acquainted with the sound of fear. His spoon clinks when he sets it down and he gives her a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure.”

She’s keeps stirring her soup, thinking. When she asks a question, her voice wavers. “The man I shot. Was he Hydra?”

Bucky knows that sound as well. The uncertainty of someone who was caught in the moment, who fought violence with violence. “Yes. He was there about the signal. Asked if I set it off.”

Looking away, she sees their reflection watching from the living room windows. Her face is thoughtful when she considers.

“I shot someone. And I didn’t think twice.”

The movement is purely unconscious. Bucky couldn’t stop it if he tried.

“Thank you,” he says, clutching her fingers and pouring every drop of sincerity into his voice, “for not thinking twice.”

“You’re welcome,” she says faintly. Her fingers press against his for the briefest moment, before she drags her hand back to her lap.

*****

“You ever think about getting rid of that rooster?”

“Are you trying to murder my birds?”

“No! Oh geez, no.”

“How about this - if he’s still alive next time you visit, I’ll make you fried chicken.”

*****

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she answers, carefully setting fried chicken on a paper towel to cool.

Bucky thinks for a moment and chooses his words carefully. “The last time we met, it was 1969.”

Her shoulders tense, but she nods and avoids his stare. “Yes. It was.”

“You can tell me to fuck off here if you want, but - you don’t look quite old enough for us to know each other then.”

She stays silent, scratching at the edge of the skillet with tongs. He can tell she’s deciding how to answer.

“No. I guess I don’t.” Looking up at him, she sets the utensil in the sink and meets his curious gaze. “I’m – enhanced, I guess. If that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

It makes sense. There must be thousands of enhanced people across the world. So many choose to stay under the radar, uninterested in the circus spectacle that follows anyone who displays even a hint of ability. Bucky thinks of Steve wearing baseball caps all the time, and Wanda dying her hair black and changing her accent, and Bruce avoiding the color green and staying hidden in Tony’s labs all day.

Sometimes being different sucks.

“Got it,” Bucky says. He watches her pick at her chicken and he nudges a little more. “So, you’re enhanced and you…found a good skin cream then?”

She huffs out a laugh.

“That would’ve been nicer. I was born with an ability. It was nothing powerful. Nothing fun,” she says with a trace smile and Bucky feels himself smile in response. “It was passed down in my family. My mother had it, her mother before her. When I was 27, there was an accident. I don’t understand what th – what happened. But here I am.”

Bucky sees the light in her eyes dim, her expression closing off and he desperately wants to keep her talking. He wants to learn more. He wants to learn her.

“Should I assume Hydra was responsible for that accident?” Startled at the comment, she looks up nervously. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just, when I told you why I was here, you seemed - scared. I know the feeling.”

Swallowing hard, she licks suddenly dry lips. “Yes. They - liked their experiments.”

Bucky gives her a grim smile. “Yeah. They really fuckin’ do, don’t they?” They sit in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, until Bucky’s curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s your ability?”

With those magic words, it ends. Her expression shutters and she retreats into herself.

“I’m sorry. I’m not comfortable talking about it,” she says quietly. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Bucky replies easily, and he means it. He picks the crispy skin from the chicken leg. “I know what it’s like to be different.”

*****

“You made noodles?”

“A long time ago, when we had plenty of flour and butter. They won’t be as good as the ones you had in Italy though.”

“Nah, those were fascist noodles. I bet your noodles taste better.”

“I would hope so.”

*****

“The food here is fantastic,” Bucky says reverently, piling a second helping of spaghetti on his plate. Maybe he should feel self-conscious at the awkward way he slurps the noodles, but it’s so fucking good he doesn’t care.

She forks the noodles and twirls them into a spoon, grinning at him. Bucky marvels briefly at the effortless gesture.

“Well, I try.”

“You succeed.”

Passing him a basket of bread, she stirs the noodles around her bowl.

“Hey Bucky?

“Hmmm?

“What have you been doing? Since you came back?” she asks tentatively.

There’s a question.

What has he been doing? Revenge. Rounding up the arrogant fucks who escaped the first Hydra purge following DC. Avenging. Throwing himself back into fighting, trying to rebuild his tarnished reputation with the good deeds he owes. All are viable answers, but he goes with a more personal truth, the one that keeps him up at nights.

“Trying to figure myself out, I guess. Learn how to be part of a team again. How the world works, when you’re allowed to make your own decisions. Sorting through memories, trying to make them useful. All that good stuff.”

She takes a drink of wine and seems to gather her courage. “And are you - I mean do you – have you been remembering things?”

The question is so hesitant. Bucky wonders wryly if she’s afraid to hurt his feelings, but it doesn’t matter, he can admit when he has no fucking idea what’s going on. Which is most of the time.

“Some,” he says honestly. “Don’t remember anything from before I was captured. Anything I know, it’s stuff Steve’s told me, or stuff I’ve read. Watched a bunch of documentaries about WW2, that was weird, seeing myself on old film reels. No idea why, but I can’t get to any of those memories, they’re just - obliterated. The ones with Hydra though, they’re reappearing. That’s why I volunteer for jobs like this,” he admits, tearing off a hunk of bread. “Keep thinking if I go back to these places, I can figure out who I was back then.”

“Bucky. Why the hell would you do that to yourself?” she asks sternly. Bucky grins at the tone.

“You sound like Steve. Look, I don’t want to know what I did back then. All the shit I’ve done to other people…all the shit that’s been done to me. Fuck that. I don’t want to know, I need to know. Hard to put yourself back together, when you’re missing huge pieces of the puzzle.”

Bucky looks down at his plate, mopping up spaghetti sauce with his bread. She doesn’t say anything else.

*****

The air is crisp and clean the next night, when Bucky steps outside. Standing on the front porch, he pulls a dark blue knit hat low over his ears and sucks a deep breath, reveling in the freshness that fills his lungs. Mountain sunsets are something incredible to behold and he stops to savor it; the craggy horizon painted brilliant red-orange, deep purple hugging from above, crystal white stars gleaming.

It clears his head in an unexpected way. The scents of snow and pine needles and life. He’d forgotten how reviving life in the wilderness could be. Growing up in Brooklyn, spending most of his life now in Manhattan, he wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy guy. And normally, he hates the snow. Spent far too many years being cold to seek it out, but here? Here, it’s not too bad. The sound of the nearby river bubbling through ice, the smell of wood smoke curling in the air, and – well.

And her.

There’s something strangely calming about her. Her voice, her mannerisms. Her cautious smile. The way she hums while she cooks and how she catches her tongue between her teeth when she’s concentrating. Bucky feels an unusual tug in his belly at the thought. It feeds something he hasn’t really considered since he fought his way back to the land of the living and it’s making him reconsider a few things.

He should probably call Steve tonight. Let him know he’s still knee deep in Kit-Kat mode.

Because right now? Bucky really doesn’t want to leave.

Reaching for the tattered broom leaning by the railing, he sweeps away the couple inches of new snow covering the steps and jumps lightly down. Walking back to her little woodshed, he pops a key into the lock connecting the shed doors and eases the creaking wood open. Rummaging for a few minutes, he piles up a massive armful of logs and carries them back to the bin on her front porch. Three times he makes the trip, arranging the pile carefully, filling it to overflowing, so she won’t need to tramp through the snow to get more.

Maybe tomorrow, he’ll make himself useful and cut more. Manual labor, fresh air. The happy thought makes him giddy.

When he finishes, he flips the lock clasp to bolt it again, but something catches his eye. Peering closer, he finds scratches down the side of the lock. Glinting silver, they look new. Bucky narrows his eyes and glances over his shoulder, into the darkness of the trees beyond.

The world is quiet. Not a breath of wind.

It seems odd, but as she said before – no one ever comes up this way. Likely it’s nothing and she mentioned this lock gave her issues, so maybe it was simply past frustration. Fingering the grooves, he makes a mental note to ask her about it, just in case. Trudging back toward the porch, the scent of pancakes reaches his nose and he leaps eagerly up the first step.

He pulls up short.

It happens then. The brick wall appears.

Bucky feels his brain ricochet from the blow. He wasn’t even searching, but it hits like a hammer, pounding the breath from his lungs and the sound of Steve’s voice fills his head.

“Nah, it was in France, about a year before. SHIELD never returned your bag after – well. After. Who the hell knows though, maybe it’s lost in the archives somewhere. Anyway, there were all these letters you had in there from your girl, maybe they’re something you want.”

“My girl?”

“Yeah, you – your girl. Smart. Beautiful. You were, uh…you were just fuckin’ head over heels. She used to write you all these letters, you kept ‘em stuffed in your bag, ‘Dear Jimmy,’ they always started and – ”

“Stop.”

“Buck – ”

“Stop it Steve, I mean it.”

“Alright, alright, you said you wanted to know, I’m just telling you - ”

“Dammit, just - I don’t wanna remember it. Not right now. Can’t fuckin’ handle hearing about someone else I let down.”

Somewhere in the forest, a bird whistles. The sound brings him crashing back to the present.

Dear Jimmy, he thinks.

Bucky stops breathing.

*****

There’s an old jazz song on the radio perched above her sink, and she turns the dial up. Tapping her feet to the brassy beat, she moves through the small kitchen, humming. Pancakes, eggs, bacon. Breakfast at supper. For some reason it’s always a treat, no matter how old you are.

She’s mixing batter when she hears the quiet click of the closing door, and she sets the bowl down and turns to look at him with a grin.

“Look, I know you said you don’t like your pancakes burnt, but I think you should just try – ”

Her voice fades when she sees him. Bucky stands before her, the blue knit cap clenched in his hands. Dark hair sticks in every direction and he pushes it back, trying to coax it smooth, and she sees his fingers tremble. His face is pale and his bright blue eyes watch her closely.

“Bucky? Are you okay?”

He opens his mouth and closes it. Twice. Unable to find the words.

“Are you hurt?” she tries again, wiping her hands on a dish towel and coming forward. “What happened?”

Holding up a hand, he stops her and moves to sit on the edge of an armchair. Chewing his lip for a full minute, he finally finds his voice.

“I have a question. I need you to answer me with the truth.”

“Okay,” she says hesitantly. She moves to the living room and sinks slowly to the chair opposite him. She pinches her lip nervously and Bucky feels his heart spasm. He keeps watching her, willing himself to pull up the correct memories and failing. Finally, he gives up and whispers.

“Am I Jimmy? Were you waiting for me that night?”

Her expression never changes, but he sees her breathe faster, chest rising and falling quickly. The answer is clear. Closing her eyes, she exhales a long breath.

“Yeah. You – yes. Yes. You were, you are – him. You’re Jimmy.” Opening her eyes, he sees them shiny with tears and when she blinks, they spill over. “I was waiting for you that night.”

Silence stretches longer and longer and Bucky finally realizes his lungs are burning. He lets out his breath with rush and leans forward. Elbows on his knees, he tries with everything in his heart, to remember.

“We’d met? Before then? We knew each other?”

She sits up straight, never breaking eye contact. Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she searches for the right words. Bucky feels his heart thump wildly while he waits; her voice is laced with sadness when she speaks.

“The first time we met was in 1944. I was wearing grey and you were wearing blue.”

*****

Next Chapter

*****

Tags are open right now, if you want one, please send me a DM or ASK.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #bucky #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #altnl

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

Text

900

1. What’s the last thing you ate? Shawarma. It was a usual meal of mine at school so I’ve been missing it a lot during this quarantine, and I was happy when my dad got me a couple ones yesterday.

2. What’s your favourite cheese? I haven’t been super experimental when it comes to cheese mainly because the better ones are a little expensive and I’m more willing to spend my money on other foods...but the best one I’ve had is feta.

3. What’s your favourite fish? My favorite cooked or grilled fish is tilapia and eel; as for raw fish I love tuna.

4. What’s your favourite fruit? I don’t really like fruit but I’m open to eating avocado-flavored things like shakes and cheesecake; and I’m okay with strawberry-flavored candy hahaha.

5. When, if ever, did you start liking olives? I’ve never liked olives. I take them out of my pizza and such.

6. When, if ever, did you start liking beer? I never *liked* beer but sometimes I’ll have a bottle if and only if it’s to socialize at a party. I just keep the grimace to myself lol because I personally never found it good. I had my first beer at Marielle’s debut, four years ago.

7. When, if ever, did you start liking shellfish? High school. That was when my palate started to expand and I wanted to try being more adventurous with food. I got into shellfish pretty early on and my mom even used to buy a kilo of mussels just for me.

8. What was the best thing your mum/dad/guardian used to make? I love my dad’s laksa, risotto, curries, and chicken wings. My mom doesn’t cook much but I do like her spaghetti.

9. What’s the native specialty of your hometown? My city doesn’t have native food of its own; and I’m not sure about my province’s specialtes either only because cuisines from other provinces are far more popular. I can say though that most visitors who come to the country often try adobo, sinigang, kare-kare, and bulalo.

10. What’s your comfort food? Cheeseburgers, samgyeopsal, pad thai, and chicken wings.

11. What’s your favourite type of chocolate? Milk chocolate. And it gets a lot of flak because it’s not actually chocolate, but I do enjoy the flavor of white chocolate too.

12. How do you like your steak? Rare.

13. How do you like your burger? I like mine with caramelized onions, a mayo-based sauce, and brioche buns; barbecue sauce or jalapeños are add-ons I have no problem being put in my burger. I don’t like tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce.

14. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled if on toast; omelette with cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms, and bell peppers if with rice; and obviously, poached if on top of an Eggs Benedict. I don’t have a preferred style for eggs.

15. How do you like your potatoes? As French fries or mojos.

16. How do you take your coffee? If someone is making the coffee for me, I request for lots of cream and sugar. I’d drink any kind of coffee but black. If I’m at a coffee shop I typically get caramel macchiato.

17. How do you take your tea? I enjoy lemonade iced tea. I don’t really like hot tea.

18. What’s your favourite mug? I suppose my favorite is the only mug I own, which is a white mug that changes colors depending on the temperature of the drink inside.

19. What’s your biscuit or cookie of choice? I can’t stand biscuits anymore because those are what my grandma/mom packed for my recess nearly everyday throughout grade school. I don’t like store-brought cookies either because they taste super processed, but my favorite as a kid were the Presto peanut butter cookies.

20. What’s your ideal breakfast? Garlic rice, a packed omelette, and hashbrowns if I’m somewhere fancy. Scrambled eggs and hotdogs when I’m at home.

21. What’s your ideal sandwich? Monte Cristo or banh mi.

22. What’s your ideal pizza: Quattro formaggi. If we’re talking more experimental pizzas, barbecue pizza is a guilty pleasure.

23. What’s your ideal pie (sweet or savoury)? I’m not a big pie person but I do love savory a lot more, like chicken pot pie. I think most of the sweet pies out there are fruit-based anyway.

24. What’s your ideal salad? Spicy tuna salad. I’ve been having such a craving for it :(

25. What food do you always like to have in the fridge? We always have white bread, eggs, my mom’s cranberry juice, and veggies.

26. What food do you always like to have in the freezer? In the freezer we never run out of various meats and frozen meal packs, like frozen bangus, hotdogs, chicken nuggets, French fries, etc. We also often have ice cream, but it’s not a must-have for us obviously.

27. What food do you always like to have in the cupboard? Pasta, canned food like luncheon meat and corned beef, cup noodles, various condiments like soy sauce and fish sauce, 3-in-1 coffee.

28. What spices can you not live without? I can’t cook but I do know I like salt, pepper, paprika, and cumin. I’m sure I’m missing other essential ones lol

29. What sauces can you not live without? Sriracha, bagoong, banana ketchup, gochujang, peanut sauce, gravy, barbecue sauce, aioli, mayonnaise.

30. Where do you buy most of your food? My parents don’t have a supermarket preference; they just go to wherever is most convenient for them at the moment. Once I start doing my own grocery shopping though I would rather go to a supermarket where they’d have a wider selection for foreign foods, like those that would have Pop-Tarts and sriracha sauce. Just the foodie in me that constantly has to have food from other cultures.

31. How often do you go food shopping? My parents do the groceries once every two or three weeks, I think.

33. What’s the most expensive piece of kitchen equipment you own? Aside from the obvious ref or cooking range, probably the coffee maker. Not sure how much it cost my parents but it’s supposed to be branded haha.

34. What’s the last piece of equipment you bought for your kitchen? Dad bought a couple of pans because he didn’t like how our old ones were starting to get too many scratches.

35. What piece of kitchen equipment could you not live without? Refrigerator. So many things would spoil without it...that’s why when we get blackouts the first thing we worry about is how long the ref would stay cold.

36. How many times a week/month do you cook from raw ingredients? I’ve only done it once.

37. What’s the last thing you cooked from raw ingredients?

38. What meats have you eaten besides cow, pig and poultry? Crocodile, carabao, lamb.

39. What’s the last time you ate something that had fallen on the floor? Don’t remember exactly when but it has to be sometime recently. I’m not too grossed out by this.

40. What’s the last time you ate something you’d picked in the wild? I have never done this.

41. Arrange the following in order of preference: Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Indian, Thai, Sushi – Indian, Thai, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican. This question is a teeny bit annoying and a little offensive. How would you like it if I referred to American food as ‘ribs’ lol

42. Arrange the following in order of preference: Vodka, Whiskey, Brandy, Rum – Vodka, rum, (some) whiskey. I don’t drink brandy because that’s what my grandpa, who had alcohol issues, used to drink.

43. Arrange the following in order of preference: Garlic, Basil, Lime, Mint, Ginger, Aniseed – Aniseed, garlic, basil, ginger, lime, mint.

44. Arrange the following in order of preference: Pineapple, Orange, Apple, Strawberry, Cherry, Watermelon, Banana. –

45. Bread and spread: I don’t really munch on this particular food. Toast and butter is enough for me.

46. What’s your fast food restaurant of choice, and what do you usually order? It’s either KFC or Jollibee. In KFC I get a Zinger and a brownie; in Jollibee, I usually order the chicken-spaghetti set, large fries, and a Yum Burger. If they have tuna pie on the menu I’d get that too. My appetite gets exceptionally large when it comes to Jollibee hahahaha.

47. Pick a city. What are the best dining experiences you’ve had in that city? I no longer remember what exactly I ate but I had a blaaaast eating in Bali. I also had a sushi platter in Fukuoka that I’ll never forget.

48. What’s your choice of tipple at the end of a long day? I don’t drink regularly but if I’m out with friends and we want to chill after a tiring day, we get a pitcher of a mixed drink.

49. What’s the next thing you’ll eat? Eggs and hotdogs for breakfast. Probably with bread.

50. Are you hungry now? A little bit, considering it’s nearly 10 and I still haven’t had breakfast.

51. Do you eat your breakfast everyday? I’ve been having it everyday now because I’ve been home for...most of the year...sigh. But I skipped it all the time when I was in school because getting to class on time and having a clean attendance record mattered to me more than filling up my stomach. 52. At what time do you have breakfast? On weekdays I have it between 9-10 AM. On weekends when my parents are home, we have brunch instead at around 10:30-11 AM because they wake up late.

53. At what time do you have lunch? I normally skip lunch now. In school I just had tiny eating breaks throughout the day, but I didn’t have lunch per se.

54. What do you have for lunch? My usual purchases were instant noodles/kwek-kwek, tapsilog from Rodic’s, or shawarma rice. Thrived on these three for my entire college life.

55. At what time do you have dinner? 7-8 PM, depending on whenever my dad is finished cooking.

56. What do you have for dinner? My dad likes changing up our dishes everyday :) It’s one of my favorite things about quarantine. Outside of the quarantine, I’ve never had a main dinner dish.

57. Do you light candles during dinner? No.

58. How many chairs are there in your dining room and who sits in the main chair? 6 chairs. We don’t have a ‘main’ chair that’s larger than the rest, but my dad is the one who sits on the chair on one end of the dining table, or what we call the kabisera in Filipino. My mom, siblings, and I sit on either side of him.

59. Do you eat and drink using your right hand or the left one? I use my right hand for the spoon and my left hand for the fork. I drink with my right hand most of the time.

61. Mention the veggies that you like most: Broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, cabbage, spinach, asparagus, string beans. Idk what eggplants and bell peppers are but I like those too.

62. What fruit and vegetable do you like the least? Cucumber and ampalaya. 63. You like your fruit salad to have more: Air. Hahahaha I do not like fruit salads.

64. You prefer your vegetable salad to contain more: I love vegetables but don’t really eat vegetable salads? I don’t think I’ve even heard of those.

65. What’s your favourite sandwich spread? Whatever goes on banh mi.

66. What’s your favourite chocolate bar? Whittaker’s peanut butter chocolate.

67. What’s your favourite dessert? I really love macarons, cupcakes, and cheesecake.

68. What’s your favourite drink? Just water. Other drinks make me fuller more quickly.

69. What’s your favourite snack? Pringles, French fries, corndogs...anything deep-fried, really.

70. What’s your favourite bubble gum flavour? Strawberry, or just the original bubblegum flavor.

71. What’s your favourite ice cream flavour? Salted caramel, queso real, or cookies and cream.

72. What’s your favourite potato chip flavour? Original or sour cream and onion.

73. What’s your favourite soup? Miso. Have to have it whenever I have Japanese food.

74. What’s your favourite pizza? Already answered this, but I will always order quattro formaggi if I see it on a menu.

75. What’s your favourite type of dish? I have lots of favorites, but I think chicken curry takes the cake for me.

76. What food do you hate? Fruits, any dessert with fruits.

77. What’s your favourite restaurant? Yabu. It’s a Japanese restaurant that doesn’t even serve sushi (because I’m still ticked off by that sushi question lol).

78. Do you eat homemade food, or food delivered from outside? These days I eat food cooked by either parent. But when I’m on my own, I buy my food.

80. Who cooks at home? My dad does most of the time. My mom will make breakfast on the weekends.

81. What kind of diet (e.g. low-fat, high-fiber, high-carbohydrate, balanced diet etc.) do you have? I’m not on any.

82. How do you keep yourself fit? I just moderate my food intake in general and make sure I stop eating once I feel full. I don’t work out or count calories and stuff.

#survey #surveys

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thatmultifandomhoe · 6 years ago

Text

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 4

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,973

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Angst, angst baby

Surprise Update. In honor of reaching 1,000 followers, here’s an early update. I hope y’all enjoy!

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

It was a ritual for you and Hoseok at this point. Every time you went to Munchies, you both got the same exact thing, and depending on the day you sometimes added to it. For Hoseok, it was two scoops of vanilla ice cream with peanut butter in a waffle cone and rainbow sprinkles. You got two scoops of the triple chocolate fudge ice cream in a dish with M&M pieces and chocolate syrup.

The first time you took Hoseok with you to Munchies, he had been confused after you ordered, a peculiar look on his face as he looked at you. It wasn’t until you were sitting that he asked why you didn’t get strawberry ice cream.

“I actually don’t like strawberries,” you answered, taking that moment to have a bite of your ice cream.

He was already in the middle of licking the side of his cone when you confessed, making his eyes widen. “But…but your scent. It’s strawberry cream.”

You pointed your spoon at him, nodding in agreement. “I know,” you spoke after swallowing. “I think it’s because of the shampoo and conditioner I use. They’re strawberry cream scented and I always use them. It’s my favorite.”

Hoseok’s mouth had dropped open a little, but nodded in understanding. “That does make sense then. If you use something like that so much, it kinda molds to your natural scent in a way.”

That had been three years ago and according to Hoseok, even if you did run out of that specific shampoo and conditioner and had to make do with another type, you still smell of strawberry cream.

“Thank you, Strawberry,” Hoseok said as the two of you sat down in your booth. It was in your opinion, the best seat in the building. It was against the wall in-between two other booths, which meant you got to watch who came in and out of Munchies. Sometimes you’d try and put together stories for whoever walked in for the fun of it. Hoseok liked giving them superhero powers and you wondered what secrets they could be hiding.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you said, taking another bite of your ice cream, this time smaller so you could speak again. “If it weren’t for you, I would be here all alone.”

He rolled his eyes, waiting for you to clean your spoon off the ice cream that was on it to take it. Without even asking, he scooped some of the peanut butter off his and spread it onto your desert.

When he first started doing that, you kept on telling him that he didn’t need too, but he ignored you. He liked switching it up though, either holding out the cone for your take a bite or scooping it with your spoon. “You were already doing that before I came along.”

“And that made me realize I was simply waiting for you to come and join me.”

Hoseok laughed, handing you back the spoon so you could continue eating. “You lived a sad life before me Strawberry.”

“Not sad,” you pointed out, spreading the peanut over your ice cream more so it wasn’t just in one spot. “Just different. Why do you always gotta give me some of the peanut butter?”

He simply shrugged, taking a bite out of the waffle cone this time. He was a fast eater and so he was always halfway done with his treat before you were even made a noticeable dent in yours. “I love it, but they always put on a little too much for me.”

“Then why don’t you ask for less?”

“Because you love peanut butter but refuse to get it on your ice cream, because then you’ll feel bad about binging out on all these sweets at once. Honestly, you shouldn’t feel bad about it. Ice cream is supposed to make you happy, not sad. Besides it’s not like we’re here every day. More like once a month really.”

Your mouth dropped open, blinking as you simply stared at you. If anything, you thought it would be a short answer along the lines of, ‘because you like peanut butter so why waste it.’ It wasn’t though.

Vaguely you could remember him asking you why you just didn’t get it after noticing you staring at it one time. That had been an embarrassing moment for you. Staring at someone else’s food was not creepy or weird at all. It wasn’t all your fault though. You had a major sweet tooth that resulted in you binging on sweets more times than you would like to admit. The fact that he remembered you telling him this, it made you feel warm on the inside.

When he sensed a shift in your emotions - your strawberry scent becoming a little sweeter - Hoseok raised an eyebrow as he looked at you while licking his ice cream. It was a silent question but you just shook your head instead and focused on yours. He was quick to notice the soft smile that appeared on your face, but didn’t mention it. Instead, he silently took a moment to admire how shy and happy you looked. Shy wasn’t usually a word he’d typically used to describe you. He had broken any barriers that had been up the first day he met you.

This…this was different though. And he couldn’t remember the last time your scent turned this sweet. It wasn’t overpowering or sickly sweet, but it was like the feeling you might have after eating your favorite candy for the first time in months of not having it. It also reminded him of that moment when he wakes up in the morning and his blankets were just perfectly warm, and he didn’t want to get out of bed.

Hoseok couldn’t remember the last time someone’s scent made him feel that way. Whatever it was that was making him feel this way though, he liked it.

The ride back to your apartment was quick and quiet this time. But this was because Hoseok was immersed in his phone, checking his messages and social media in-case Sue had sent a text or posted some pictures. His leg shook and he was chewing on his bottom lip in a nervous manner.

You let him go about his search. He wouldn’t relax until he had some form of contact from Sue telling him she was okay. By the time you pulled into your parking lot, Hoseok had checked and rechecked his phone more times than you can count. Killing the engine, you looked over at him, waiting to see if he noticed where he was.

It took a few minutes, but he blinked as he glanced at you, then around his surroundings. A faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he put away his phone and murmured a sorry.

“Can we go inside now and get out of the cold?” You teased, tugging on your hat and gloves.

Hoseok adjusted his jacket and regrettably put on his hat, his ears flattening to make it fit properly. Usually he went without it but your parking spot was the furthest away from the building entrance. It sucked, but it was something you learned to suck up.

“Why can’t we park closer?” Hoseok whined, slinging his bags over both shoulders. You had grabbed his suitcase and was wheeling it behind you.

“Because that’s my assigned parking space,” you gently explained. The wheels from the suitcase rattling against the pavement.

“But it’s so far away. And it’s so cold.”

“It’s only a few minutes Hobi.”

The hybrid pouted as he faithfully followed you to the sidewalk, the wheels suddenly gliding now. “It’s still cold.”

You rolled your eyes and in a matter of minutes the two of you were inside the elevator going up to your apartment. Hoseok didn’t wait to take his hat off, as soon as he was inside the living room the grey knit beanie was off and his ears were free.

“Better?” you asked, amused with his reactions.

“Good God yes.”

“Alright. Need me to show you to your room?”

Hoseok gave you, the look, as if he couldn’t believe that you just asked him that. The apartment was small but this wasn’t his first time here. It wouldn’t surprise you if he was able to smell his own scent lingering around from the last time he came over. “I think I can handle it from here. But thank you.”

Without even a struggle, he picked up his suitcase and maneuvered his way into the spare room. Last night you had cleaned it up for him, dusting the dresser and nightstand and putting on clean sheets. You even got out his favorite blankets that he loved to curl up with. They were heavy blankets that were soft to the touch along with a few others that your mother had knitted. It was the comfort of home that got him excited every time.

The squeal that came from the room informed you that Hoseok found the blankets.

Hoseok came out of his room sooner than you expected. Typically, he spent at least one weekend out of the month at your apartment - it was always so casually mentioned by Colin to Sue that they needed some time to themselves without Hoseok – and would take the time to unpack his clothes into the dresser and set his belongings out even if it was just for two days.

“It smells different.” He announced, frowning as he walked over to where you stood by the closet hanging up your jacket.

You sniffed once but didn’t smell anything different. If anything, you could still smell the buttercream scented candle you had burning earlier that morning as you got ready. “Different how?”

His nose crinkled as he walked around, sniffing every few steps. “Like someone else has been here. A hybrid specifically.” He came to a halt at your couch, bending over the arm only to stand straight up; his face contorting and a low territorial growl emitted from his chest. There had only been a few other times you heard Hoseok growl like that.

The first time had been a couple months after Sue adopted him. Taehyung, one of your friends who was also a hybrid, had been horsing around with Sue, and Hoseok had seen him grab her arm. His natural instincts to protect her instantly came out when he released the warning growl. When he realized they were only playing, he felt guilty. He had to train himself to not react so severely when their friends were around. After that, the only other times you heard him growl was when he was with you. He sometimes would do it to tease you, but it wasn’t an all the time thing.

“Who’s been here?” Hoseok slowly asked, his jaw clenching as he waited.

Blinking, you ran a hand through your hair as you thought back, trying to remember who’s been over in the last month or so. “I don’t recall,” you slowly answered. “Our friends but that was a couple months ago Hoseok.”

He shook his head though, his upper lip curling up into a snarl. “No. It’s not any of them. It smells of ferret and none of our friends are that breed of hybrid.”

“Ferret?” You repeated, this time frowning. Ferret hybrids had been considered one of the more exotic breeds but over time they fell into the domestic category.

Hoseok nodded, pacing around the living room, his attention going to your bedroom door. You never shut it but as he headed towards your room, you suddenly wondered why he was being like this. Then most importantly, if you had picked up the clothes that you had thrown around while trying to come up with an outfit this morning.

Totally normal thoughts of course.

Hybrids that you knew raced through your head as you tried to figure out who it could be that triggered Hoseok. Why would the scent be going into your bed…your cheeks flushed as that night quickly came to mind.

It suddenly became clear who he was smelling. It had been a blur but you remembered, or at least, parts of it. Johnny had been in one of your classes, he was a sweet guy who flirted with everyone, but no one gave it much thought. It was just part of his personality; he was harmless. When you first met him, you didn’t even realize he was a hybrid. His ears were small and easily concealed when he grew out his hair or wore hats, and he tended to tuck his tail under his shirt. He said it amused him when people realized he wasn’t human.

What had been a day meant to hang out and study for an upcoming test in your Literature class, took a turn for the worst. At least for Johnny it did. His previous owners had put him on medication for his heats and so he hadn’t experienced one in years. Now that his new owners decided to take him off it, he had been hit with a situation that he didn’t know how to handle. You on the other hand, while you weren’t a hybrid, you weren’t stupid. With the knowledge from your Hybrid 101 class - and stories from your other hybrid friends - you knew what was happening, and because you absolutely hated seeing anyone in pain, offered to help in any way possible.

Johnny had accepted without hesitation.

Hoseok’s growls echoed in your apartment as he breathed in deeply upon entering your bedroom where it was the strongest. His chest heaved as the other man’s scent invaded his nostrils. The sound of your racing heart hit him first before you timidly called his name, your guilt and embarrassment crashing into him.

“Who is he?” He harshly growled, his tail swishing back and forth in agitation as his hybrid instincts became the best of him.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. It had been a month ago. You didn’t think the scent would have lasted that long. “A friend from one of my classes.” You whispered, staring down at the floor.

Hoseok saw red as he turned to face you. “You mated with a ferret?”

The way he said it made it seem like an insult as you quickly shook your head and met his gaze. “No Hoseok. Johnny didn’t mark me at all, I promise. He’s never experienced a heat before…he was going to be in so much pain and I didn’t want him to suffer.” You couldn’t remember the last time Hoseok had been so angry, he was usually happy and went with the flow. Even with Colin he never acted out. This was a side to him you never knew existed.

He stared down at you, having the advantage since he was a good head taller than you. While your explanation made sense, and he knew you were free to make the choice to be with whoever you wanted, he couldn’t help these emotions that were overwhelming him. With your sweet scent filling his senses and the lingering scent of, Johnny, he was unable to think straight. He didn’t even understand why he was acting like this in the first place; he just was.

Hoseok growled in frustration, roughly running a hand through his hair. He needed to get rid of this scent. Staring at you, he suddenly moved towards you, tightly wrapping his arms around you and buried his face in your hair to breathe you in.

You were frozen. Your mind raced as you tried to think of something to say or do to make this better for him. Nothing came to mind though. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t speak. Instead, he breathed you in until all he could smell was strawberry cream. With a shaky breath, he relaxed enough to lean back, the animalistic side calmed down to a point that allowed him to think. “Open the windows, just enough to get air circulation.” He spoke, his voice low and devoid of emotion. With one last sniff, he moved around you and walked into the living room and started to promptly open the windows.

You watched him move with stiff movements, having an idea as to what he was doing. To help relax him, you slipped on a sweater but went around to the rest of the rooms and opened the remaining windows. When you reentered the living room, he was sitting on the couch, shifting around every now and then. He gave a quick sniff and his face scrunched up again.

Hoseok was scenting your apartment.

With a glance in your direction, his eyes softened as he took in the way you tugged your sweater tighter around your body and the worry in your eyes. He whined a little, conflicted with how he was going to explain his actions. How was he to do that when he didn’t understand it himself? If he didn’t get rid of the ferret’s scent it was going to drive him nuts.

To an extent, you did understand. The rival smell of another man in your apartment, especially one he didn’t know, tugged at his natural instincts. But usually that only happened when a hybrid was romantically linked to the female. Hoseok wasn’t. Sure, he sometimes got a little protective of you when someone new came along, but he was like that with all of your friends.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee,” you softly spoke. “You do what you need to.”

You waited until he nodded, watching as he stretched out on the couch. Walking into the kitchen, you filled the kettle with water and was turning the stove on to heat it, taking a deep breath of your own.

Hoseok was your best friend. That was it.

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annzybwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Truth or Dare: Coming Out Edition (Chapter 2: The Main Event)

Read on AO3 | Donate to my Ko-Fi if you like | Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

A South Park Fanfiction ft. Creek, Style, and Bunny

The big group of ten took turns playing Mario Kart. Whoever wasn’t playing either cheered on their favorite current players, or sectioned themselves off to talk one on one or two on two.

Just as Tweek had guessed, he was hyper aware of every time he saw Kenny and Butters whispering to each other. Butters seemed to be giggling and laughing a lot over whatever Kenny was telling him, though there were a few times where he frowned, swatted Kenny’s shoulder, and huffed, “Not appropriate, Ken!” To which the latter just snickered and winked.

Winked. Something HAD to be going on between them, right??

“Babe,” Craig whispered, gripping Tweek’s chin to pull his gaze away. “Stop staring, geez.”

“I can’t help it, Craig!!” Tweek chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes rolling to the side as if he could see them through his skull. “It’ll be so nice not to be the only gay couple in school anymore!”

Craig sighed and released his chin. “I know, honey, but you know staring isn’t nice.”

“Nngh!” Tweek closed his eyes to stop himself from staring. “I know!!”

“Just try and relax, Tweek.” Craig pulled him closer, resting Tweek’s head against his shoulder. “We’re going to play Truth or Dare soon and then you can ask some questions.”

“What if they don’t want to answer??” Tweek asked, opening his eyes again as he gripped Craig’s shirt tight in his hand. “If they didn’t want it to be a secret, we’d already know, right??”

“That,” Craig starts slowly, rubbing at Tweek’s back to ground him. “Or there’s nothing to tell.”

“... Oh.” Tweek blinks, relaxing a little. “Yeah, that’s true!”

“Can we do truth or dare yet?!” Clyde started whining, upside down in his favorite chair so he could kick his feet against the top. “I’m boooored!”

“Well,” Token paused the game and looked at his watch. “I guess we could. Unless you guys wanna open presents, first?”

“Nah,” Stan set the controller down and stretched a little. “Let’s open presents at midnight.”

“Midnight!” Butters spoke up, looking a little worried. “Oh, I’ll be falling asleep by then! You guys won’t draw dicks on my face, will ya?”

“Don’t worry, baby bear,” Kenny patted Butters’ back with a serious expression. “I’ll protect you.”

“Well gee, thanks, Ken!”

“Baby bear?!” Clyde wheezed in shock. Tweek’s jaw just dropped in surprise, so he was glad when Craig closed it for him.

“Okay!” Token stood up and clapped his hands to gain attention of the room. “Truth or dare it is! Everyone get in a circle! Clyde,” he turned to give him a look, “go get the Hershey’s kisses.”

“On it, boss!” Clyde gave a little salute before somersaulting off the chair and running to the spread of candy on the counter.

Soon, everyone was seated in a big circle on the floor (or in a chair if it was close enough), and had three Hershey’s kisses for their “passes.”

“Who wants to go first?” Token asked, ever the perfect host.

“Ooh ooh!” Clye swung his arm wildly in the air. “Me, me, me!!”

Token sighed and gestured to Kyle. “Why don’t you go.”

“Hey!!”

Kyle chuckled a bit, giving Clyde an amused look. “Okay, dude, you can go next, but first - truth or dare?”

“Hm…” Clyde tapped his chin, narrowing his eyes at Kyle as if to guess what he was thinking. “Dare!”

Kyle grinned, sharing a look with an also-grinning Stan before turning back to his victim. “I dare you to call Bebe and tell her you hate her new shoes.”

Clyde gasps, slapping his hands to his cheeks in mortification. “If I do that, she’ll give me a black eye!!”

“What, you’re chickening out already?” Kyle snickered, sharing a low five with Stan who was trying not to lose it.

“I t-told you!” Stan tried to speak between his laughter. “Clyde’s a wimp with Bebe.”

“I am not!!” Clyde glared at the two of them before pulling out his phone. “I’ll do it right now!!”

“Craig, make sure he’s actually calling Bebe,” Kyle requested.

“No, fuck you,” Craig replied, not wanting to move from his position of holding Tweek’s hand. “You do it.”

Tweek frowned and poked his cheek. “Craig, come on. You’re closer.”

Craig sighed and begrudgingly moved away, stealing Clyde’s phone to call Bebe for him. “There, it’s ringing.”

“CraIG!!” Clyde started freaking out and almost dropped the phone, sweating nervously as his heart leapt into his throat. “Shit shit shit!”

“You have to leave a message if she doesn’t answer!” Stan added, covering his mouth to try and stop his snickers.

“I hate you both so much -!” Clyde hissed just as Bebe picked up.

“Hello? Clyde? Aren’t you at that sleepover thing?”

“Y-yeah!” Clyde was starting to shake with nerves. “Um, I was just calling to tell you… uh…” He glared at Stan and Kyle who were snickering and gesturing for him to continue. Not to say everyone else wasn’t chuckling a little, but the two instigators were definitely the loudest. “I hate your new shoes!!”

“... What!?” Bebe snapped so loud that the phone’s audio crackled.

“Okay, bye!!” Clyde hung up before she could say anything more and threw his phone onto the couch. “Well, I’m not going to even look at that thing for a few hours.”

Most of the group started laughing openly now, joking about how Clyde would have a million messages and missed calls by tomorrow.

“You’re right,” Token teased, smirking at him. “She’ll give you a black eye the next time she sees you.”

Clyde puffed his cheeks out again in a pout before sputtering, “Truth or Dare, Token!!”

“After that, definite Truth.” Token held up a hand. “No way am I risking you daring me to do anything with Nichole.”

“Damn it.” Clyde groaned and tossed his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Um…” His face split into a wide grin as he snapped back to look at him. “Tell us about a wet dream you’ve had!”

Kenny snorted and offered Clyde a high-five, which he gladly took. Token, on the other hand, was starting to turn red, seriously considering using one of his free passes.

“It doesn’t have to be the most intense wet-dream you’ve had,” Stan offered. “Just one of them. Like a weird one.”

“That’s assuming I’ve had more than one!” Token snapped in embarrassment.

Kenny snickered as he offered, “If you share one, I’ll share one of mine~”

“No fucking way,” Kyle deadpanned. “You’ve told me some of yours, Kenny - no one wants to hear them.”

“Kenny’s told you about his wet dreams?” Stan asked, raising a brow at him. “Why?”

Kyle just shrugged, looking away from his best friend. “You know how Kenny is.”

“Not yet he doesn’t,” Kenny purred, winking at Stan and wiggling his fingers at him. Butter started laughing then and covered his face.

“Helloooo,” Clyde interrupted. “I’m still waiting for Token’s wet dream!”

Token groaned and brought his knees up to his chest, burying his face against them. “Fine!”

He proceeded to tell them about a dream he had involving himself being a pirate captain hunting for mermaids, but once he found one he somehow shifted into a merman and they went to a coral reef to make out.

“Ooh!” Butters clasped his hands together, a big smile on his face. “That sounds fun, though!”

“Tame, but fun,” Kenny agreed.

Token just grunted in response before surveying the circle. “Tweek, truth or dare.”

Tweek tensed up, his cheeks pink from Token’s Truth response and his nerves swirling around in his guts. “Um… D… Dare!”

“Yeah?” Token smiles softly. “I dare you to… tell Craig you hate him.” Most of the circle booed him, saying that was a lame dare, but he argued, “It’s Tweek’s first time! Let’s go a little easy on him.”

“Ack!” Tweek didn’t seem to like the idea anyway and turned to Craig with wide, apologetic eyes. “I don’t wanna do that!!”

Craig chuckled, the corners of his mouth upturning in amusement. “It’s okay, Tweek. I know it’s not true.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t want to say it!” He whined, pulling at his fingers. “Craig, I… I hate you!!” He covered his face right afterwards. “Ugh, that sucked!”

Craig was still smiling, reaching to stroke some of Tweek’s hair back, as if he were a cat. “You did great, Tweek. Ask someone else now.”

“Mmmm.” He looked at everyone through his fingers. “Jimmy, Truth or Dare.”

“Oh!” He straightened up in excitement. “I’ll take a d-dare, as well!”

Tweek took a deep breath, staring down at the carpet as he tried to come up with a good one. He didn’t want to do anything too mean, but he didn’t want everyone to boo him either. “Um… I dare you to… eat a huge spoonful of peanut butter without drinking any milk!”

Clyde absolutely lost it, rolling onto his back as he cackled, “Was that the b-best you could come up with!?”

“I mean, that would be pretty uncomfortable,” Butters said, making a face as he thought about it. “Peanut butter is so sticky!” Kenny snorted and covered his mouth, so Butters pouted at him and poked his head. “Get that mind out of the gutter, mister!”

“Well,” Token interrupted, standing up. “Let’s get to the kitchen so Jimmy can eat his peanut butter.”

“This’ll be fff, ffun,” Jimmy cheered as he slipped his lofstrand crutches back into place to stand. “Let’s go f-f-fellas!”

Truth or Dare continued for quite awhile after that, with each boy trying to get even more wild with their propositions. Even Timmy was dared to wear underwear (clean, thankfully) on his head for three rounds. And, Clyde kept trying to either ask or dare Craig to talk about when he first fell in love with Tweek. His strategy was to get Craig to use up all of his passes, and with only one left, he was grinning ear-to-ear and just waiting to get two more turns.

“Won’t be long now, Craigy~” Clyde sang. “You’ll have to tell us sooner or later!”

“Unless we just stop picking you altogether,” Stan pointed out, since it was his turn.

Clyde turned crestfallen, clasping his hands together to practically beg, “Pleeeaaase pick me, Stan! I’ll do your homework for a week!”

“Dude, you get worse grades than me. Not a chance.”

“Then I’ll do your chores!!”

“Tempting,” Stan tapped his chin, thinking about it. “But, nah. I have something else in mind. Craig, Truth or Dare.”

“Just to torture Clyde, Truth.”

Clyde whined in agony and flopped onto his back as Stan replied, “Hm… kind of similar to Clyde’s question, but how did you… I mean, what made you,” he struggled to find the right words, and everyone’s eyes on him didn’t help. He took a breath before managing to ask, “How are you so okay with being gay? And, like, having that as one of the main ways people think of you?”

Craig raised a brow at him, curiosity etched into his face. He leaned backwards onto his hands, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I dunno, man.” Stan was starting to mumble, his gaze cast to the floor. “I just feel like once someone’s labeled as “gay,” that’s like… the only thing people think about you. Like it doesn’t matter what else you do - doesn’t matter if you’re a genius, or great at sports, or great at film in your case. You’re just… gay, and nothing else.”

The circle was quiet after Stan’s little speech, most assuming that Stan had a very personal reason for asking this question. Kyle was staring at his friend in slight shock, mouth open slightly, and Tweek actually felt still for once. Craig did say there might be other gay couples in the school - was Stan in one of them?

“Well,” Craig started out slowly, startling everyone out of their own thoughts. “I, personally, don’t feel like that. I mean, yeah, obviously some people are only interested in talking to me because I’m gay, like the yaoi fangirls, or some of the adults, but they can go fuck themselves. I have friends who actually know me and don’t only think of my sexuality when they think of me.” Craig gestured to Clyde. “He’s the exception, since he’s my friend and also very interested in my relationship. But I’m sure he’d be just as interested if I was with a girl, so it doesn’t bother me much.”

Clyde grinned, giving him two thumbs up. “You got that right, bro. I’m supportive 100%. Unless you break Tweek’s heart.”

Craig smiled softly, leaning over to kiss Tweek’s cheek, causing the blonde to squeak in surprise. “I would never break his heart. It’s too precious.”

“Cr-Craaaiiig!!” Tweek whined and covered his face with both hands, curling up as if to hide. “God, stop!!” He curled up even more when he heard the others just chuckle at him.

“Does that answer your question, Stan?” Craig asked, staring straight at him.

“Yeah.” Stan nodded, his eyes far away as he avoided looking at anyone in particular. “Thanks, man.”

“Great. Kyle, Truth or Dare.”

“What?” Kyle jumped a little, turning his head away from Stan. “Oh, uh. Truth, I guess.”

“Do you consider yourself 100% straight?”

Once again, the circle was struck silent. Craig’s blunt question caught everyone off guard. Everyone turned to look at the redhead, but no one was prepared for Kyle’s response.

“Not really, no.”

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

(Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi if you enjoyed!)

#south park #sp creek #sp bunny #sp style #sp fanfiction #south park fanfiction #ToD:COE #annzy writes

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hd-fan-fair · 6 years ago

Photo

[ Fanworks posted in tropes order here ]

MASTERLIST OF H/D FOOD FAIR 2018 FANWORKS

ART

1. pygmy-puffy drew Meet Me at 6 (PG-13) Summary: Harry owns a food truck. Draco is a grudgingly regular customer. One day, Harry pushes an unsolicited cake pop in his hand; it comes with a little heart-shaped message attached to the stem: “Meet me on the roof at 6.” 2. anokaba drew Cafe, Custard, & Courting (PG-13) Summary: After agreeing to this fake relationship scheme, the boys meet at a cafe to get their stories straight. Of course they can't help but push each other's buttons. 3. epithalamium (art tumblr) drew 4-Ingredient Recipe for a Relationship (PG) Summary: Because of his childhood with the Dursleys, Harry relationship with food is rocky at best. And then he meets Draco, who loves cooking. 4. girl412 (gothzabini) drew Honey and Apples (PG-13) Summary: When Draco’s ability to taste is cursed away, he loses more than just one of his senses. Who can help him, if not Harry Potter? 5. sugareey drew Weekly Cuisine (PG) Summary: It's routine for Harry and Draco to go to a Muggle restaurant every Sunday to try new foods and catch up. During their exciting dim sum experience, they discover something important they should've laid out on the table in the first place. Also, Harry is a (sneaky) idiot. 6. dustmouth drew Draco Malfoy's Reasonably Large Cucumber (PG-13) Summary: After making yet another drunken wager with Malfoy at the pub, Harry finds himself vying for first prize in the Annual Wizarding Vegetable Competition, an average sized pumpkin in tow. 7. citruskk drew Here Comes the D! (G) Summary: Draco loves his soup, especially when he's sick. However, he hates it when he's too shaky to feed himself so he had to rely on Harry to spoon-feed him the soup. Alphabet soup. It's not helping that Harry always, always picks the D letters first and gleefully say, "open up wide, here comes the D!"

ART & FIC

1. fantom_ftnoise wrote and drew Once Upon a Time (R, 12725, Same Artist & Author) Summary: This is the story of Hansel & Gretel - er, that is, Harry & Draco. 2. writcraft wrote and phoenixacid drew Slice of Life (NC-17, 16314, Artist & Author Collaboration) Summary: Luna and Ginny are worried about Harry, Greg is a very a fine baker, Snape’s portrait has a lot of opinions and Draco Malfoy is (probably) up to something. In which one man’s love for jam tarts blossoms into a different kind of love entirely.

FIC

1. ICMezzo wrote Passion Cake (PG-13, 19384) Summary: Once more, with passion. Or, Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, except Pansy overcharges him, and then Draco Vanishes it entirely, and really, from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. And will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is? 2. xErised wrote Chasing Treacle Tart (and Draco Malfoy) (NC-17, 23141) Summary: Malfoy, who is sentenced to work as a dinner lady in the Ministry canteen, has an annoying habit of withholding desserts from Harry. Harry puts up with it, but when Malfoy stops him from getting his beloved treacle tart, Harry is determined to do something about it. And Ron? He's really just there for the awkward flirting. 3. Razra_Eizel wrote Birthday Bash (PG-13, 3234) Summary: To cheer Draco up during their Eighth Year, Harry decided to throw him a birthday surprise party, no matter what challenges he may face. 4. bafflinghaze wrote Where There Is Tea (PG-13, 12643) Summary: Somewhere in London, overlooking a garden, sits a little tea room. There, Harry finds tea, distraction, books, conversation, inspiration, himself, and Draco Malfoy. 5. enchanted_jae wrote Feluna (PG-13, 2558) Summary: As the owner of a new bakery, Draco can't afford to turn down business, even if it's with Loony Lovegood's cat cafe. 6. AhaMarimbas wrote The Devil's Aphrodisiacs (PG-13, 3097) Summary: Teddy learns a new word, Harry breaks his favourite coffee mug and Draco loves his little family. Not necessarily in that order. Or, Squirt squirt squirt squirt. Squirtsquirtsquirtsquirtsquirtsquirtsquirt. Squirt??? SQUIRT!!!!! 7. MistyDeath wrote Sweet (S)talker (NC-17, 10296) Summary: Merlin, he’d stalked the asshole for almost a year, you think Harry would have noticed him tongue fucking sugar quills on the daily! 8. JGogoboots wrote A Holiday in Provence (NC-17, 32201) Summary: Harry Potter is turning 50 years old and feeling lonelier than ever. Divorced, retired, and learning he’s not quite as straight as he thought he was, Harry reluctantly accepts a birthday gift from his friends for a week’s stay at an idyllic French vineyard. Too bad Hermione and Ron neglected to mention that the owner of the winery happens to be a certain quick-witted blond Slytherin… 9. maraudersaffair wrote Paidi's Proper Shag (NC-17, 10531) Summary: Draco works at a fast food restaurant. Harry is his worst customer. 10. simplylegilimenss wrote grant that we may feast (in fellowship) (NC-17, 20388) Summary: When the house elves are on strike given Sundays off, a cooking competition ensues in the Hogwarts kitchens every Sunday. Passionate rivalries turn to passionate friendships. Or could it be something more? Or: Draco can’t cook for shit even though he says he can, Pansy and Blaise are also little shits, Hermione Granger is downright scary, Ronald Weasley totally called it, and Draco really needs to stop checking Harry Potter out every chance he gets. 11. lokiperfect wrote There Used To Be A Lightness (PG-13, 3598) Summary: Down on his luck, Draco Malfoy is trying to find a job. It proves more than unsuccessful. Molly Weasley, with all kids now grown up, is trying to start a restaurant. That proves more successful, and makes them cross paths. Harry Potter, running away from memories of the war, returns to London three years later to discover exactly how things have changed. 12. cubedcoffeecake wrote What Happens at the Milk Bar (doesn’t stay there) (R, 10133) Summary: "Draco, look at me. You talk about Potter all the time. Your complaints about him usually just sound like… Well, you tend to give the impression that you don’t like Potter because you find him distractingly attractive and don’t like that you can’t touch.” Meg and Art nodded sagely as Draco’s jaw dropped. “I—what?” “You’re attracted to Potter, Dray,” Meg helpfully supplied. 13. Bangyababy wrote Promising Produce (NC-17, 3068) Summary: Harry knew it was a stupid idea, but Harry'd never been one for listening, even to himself. Now he's standing in Exam Room 3 trying to explain to Draco Malfoy why there's a carrot stuck up his bum. 14. harryromper wrote Let him lead me to the banquet (PG-13, 16066) Summary: The worst part is Harry’s got no idea why Malfoy keeps sending him invites. He’s never replied to a single one. And if the whole dinner is as exclusive and sought-after as the Prophet keeps breathlessly reporting, then presumably the only reason Malfoy wants him there is in his capacity as the Chosen One. So, really, he can fuck right off. Harry doesn’t care about Draco Malfoy’s redemption tour. And he’s certainly not going to help him with it. 15. AhaMarimbas wrote The Godric's Hollow Wizarding Parents Association (NC-17, 26298) Summary: When Draco decided to move his small family to Godric’s Hollow, little did he know he’d have to deal with misleading television programs, some surprisingly friendly neighbours and a bit of peanut butter. Okay, lots of peanut butter. 16. Ingi wrote haunt yourself and refuse to be buried (G, 3354) Summary: Harry Potter is eighteen years old and he is not okay. 17. whiskyandwildflowers wrote Feeling Rough, Feeling Raw (In the Prime of My Life) (NC-17, 7570) Summary: In which Harry has a quarter-life crisis and winds up at a health spa, Malfoy dresses like a cult leader, and everyone consumes a lot of raw greenery. 18. Goldentruth813 wrote Boiling Point (R, 42882) Summary: Ferveret - n. boiling point After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over. 19. PollyWeasley wrote Potter’s Delicacies (NC-17, 4823) Summary: Draco thinks a quiet life is just what he ever needed in his life. He’s got good friends, a nice independent job as an artist, and an exclusive pâtissier just for himself. He doesn’t think much of why Potter likes to feed him treats so often, he’s just that weird. Even if Draco wants to have something with him, Potter is just a nice, good friend who likes to see him enjoying fancy treats. Right? 20. parkkate wrote A picture of ricecake (NC-17, 7030) Summary: After a night of hot sex, Draco wakes up to the smell of Harry cooking. When he eats his food Draco vows that's it, Harry's making him breakfast forever. 21. crazyparakiss wrote Sweet Relief (NC-17, 1708) Summary: It happens on a Tuesday. The most boring, innocuous day of the week. That’s the day when Draco discovers something delectable, something devious...something fun. 22. DoubleAppled wrote Harry Potter and the Showstopper of Doom (R, 11528) Summary: In which Harry’s an amateur baker, Draco wants him to go on the Great British Bake-Off, Petunia never misses an episode, Sue is a witch, Paul Hollywood is Paul Hollywood, and everyone eats a lot — like a whole lot — of baked goods. 23. postjentacular wrote Tectonic (PG-13, 3296) Summary: In which Draco is the unnoticed centre of attention, Harry's unobservant and, (eventually) they talk. 24. maesterchill wrote Eat Me (NC-17, 10954) Summary: Harry's having a terrible morning. That is, until he receives a curious package at work. Inside are two things: a chocolate model of an erect penis, and a note simply saying ‘Eat Me’ in an elegant, inviting script. And Merlin, he’s hungry. 25. Synonym4Life and GingerTodgers wrote The Fair of Artful Pleasure (F.A.P.) (R, 7363) Summary: F.A.P or the Fair of Artful Pleasure is going as splendidly as Harry could have imagined. Which is not splendidly at all. Which is, in fact, the complete opposite of splendid. Two steps in and he's already traumatised for life. And yet, it still manages to go downhill from there: Malfoy is at the fair and he's making Harry lick lube from dildos in front of an audience. As if that wasn't terrible enough, Harry has feelings. 26. jeni_andtheafterthought wrote Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire (NC-17, 22238) Summary: The war may have ended, but Draco was never able to move on with his life. Having no access to his vault and cut off from his friends and family, he is forced to support himself by working jobs in muggle restaurants. With his luck in the gutter and his flat up in smoke, Draco thinks things can't possibly get worse. Harry offers to help, convincing Draco that things could, in fact, get worse. 27. gracerene wrote The Hand That Feeds You (NC-17, 17371) Summary: Harry needs something only Draco can provide. 28. squadofcats wrote Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm (NC-17, 104357) Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria. 29. RuArcher (coriesocks) wrote Anyone But Him (NC-17, 19323) Summary: Harry thought going to a Muggle university would be the perfect opportunity for a new start. He hadn’t counted on having Draco Malfoy as a flatmate. 30. Magnolia822 wrote The Great Magic Sex Mushroom Fiasco (NC-17, 6789) Summary: Lost in the Siberian wilderness without food, Aurors Potter and Malfoy are forced to improvise, with unexpected consequences . . . 31. timothysboxers wrote The Boy Who Licked (R, 4039) Summary: Draco Malfoy is doing well for himself: he has paid his dues, enjoys his work at the Ministry, and has his feelings safely in check regarding a certain Auror Potter, thank you very much. That is, until he bears witness to the obscene things the man can do with his tongue and a custard filled bun... 32. gnarf wrote The Difference Between Dust And Soup (Is You) (PG-13, 17612) Summary: When Harry returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts he had high hopes that he'd have a normal and quiet year for once—he had earned it after all! But when he found Malfoy starving and unconscious in the Astronomy Tower one night, it all started over again. He had to figure out what happened to him. After Harry started to cook for Malfoy, and while sharing their secret dinner night after night, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a possibility of them becoming more. 33. Blowfish_Diaries wrote How to Handle a Matzo Ball Soup Emergency (R, 22028) Summary: Harry, having left the Wizarding World after his divorce, inherits a deli in a trendy part of London. Draco wanders in and falls in love - with the food. And certainly not with the infuriatingly-fit-father-of-three who runs the place. A tale of growing up and families of choice; of awkward hugs and new best friends. 34. mykesprit wrote Succumb or Retreat (NC-17, 2068) Summary: Draco procures the Forbidden Fruit, and Auror Harry Potter arrives to take it from him. 35. lyonessheart wrote Melange a deux (PG-13, 10006) Summary: This is the story of two men finding love in unexpected places. And lots of delicious food. 36. oldenuf2nb wrote The Chains of Memory (NC-17, 14417) Summary: Harry is growing sicker by the day and Draco wants to know why. 37. Fantasyfiend09 wrote Popular Appetite (G, 16735) Summary: Bad press is destroying Draco’s hotel. There is only one person who can create enough good press to save it. 38. firethesound wrote The Way These Days Seem to Go (And Go) (PG-13, 15112) Summary: Stress baking isn’t a hobby Harry ever thought he’d pick up, but he’s surprised to find how much it helps him to get through those long months post-war. It keeps his hands busy, it keeps his mind occupied, and when Draco Malfoy steadily pushes his way back into Harry's life, it helps with that too. 39. LadyOfTheAttic wrote Cooking Mama (PG-13, 5124) Summary: Harry and Draco are roommates and auror partners but there are certain lines Draco doesn't cross-- namely, he won't let Harry cook for him. This would be fine if Draco didn't live off of frozen dinners and sadness. Harry decides to help with lessons! 40. TheKnitterati wrote The Finest Ingredient (PG-13, 4474) Summary: The Weasley family is in need of help. Help that comes in the form of a rare plant, grown only on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. In order to save the day, Harry might have to flirt with Draco Malfoy. Or worse...they both might have to face up to the reality that they fancy each other. 41. giraffeminion wrote A Hint of Spice (G, 6787) Summary: After the war, Draco breaks ties with the wizarding world to lead a quiet and uneventful life as a financial advisor on the outskirts of Muggle London. His peaceable existence is broken, however, when a damnable food truck sets up shop right outside his front door. 42. groundbreaking wrote Order To Go (R, 17645) Summary: Draco Malfoy opens a new pâtisserie in Diagon Alley, his pastries and desserts are to die for. Harry is the coffee shop owner next door who wants to take Draco home for dessert. Ron is just there for the bread. - in which harry has a sweet tooth, but it isn't for anything on the menu. 43. Sw33tCh377yPi3 wrote Ice Cream (G, 7508) Summary: Sometimes the critical moment passes us by. If we’re fortunate, we get a second—or third—chance. 44. epsilonargus wrote The Right Question (PG-13, 4652) Summary: Harry is having dinner every week with Malfoy - but no, Ernie, they are not bloody dates! 45. Femmequixotic and Noeon wrote Ynys Afallach (I Will Give My Love An Apple) (NC-17, 42472) Summary: Professor Waverley Root's tutorial in the history of magical food is something of a legend at Flamel College. Draco Malfoy wants to apply it to his work in sustainable wizarding agriculture. Harry Potter's taking it for his interest in historical overlap between the magical and Muggle worlds in the West Country. When Root pairs them together, the fireworks (and the apples!) fly. Now if only they can find something original, perhaps they'll make it through to complete their degrees on time. 46. Drarryismymuse wrote The Way to a Man’s Heart (NC-17, 16390) Summary: Draco is released from Azkaban and given one week to find gainful employment...or else. A chance encounter with the ever-meddling Harry Potter changes the course of his week, and ultimately his life. This is a story of mistakes, burnt toast, awkward encounters, rude employees, bold gestures, and a bit of anal. :D 47. milkandhoney wrote Squill & Spoon (R, 19169) Summary: In order to complete the terms of his probation, Draco's mind healer must deem Draco reformed enough to re-enter wizarding society. Squill & Spoon, a new wizarding supper club could be the perfect opportunity — that is, if Harry Potter would stop showing up at his table every. Single. Time. 48. brightowl wrote The Dinner (NC-17, 7795) Summary: Draco had been trying to beat the sunset, walking along the cobblestone road to the Chateau where he would be staying that night, when he saw the door. Le Billet Doux, said a painted red sign. Below it, réservations non requises: ‘no reservations required.’ 49. Wonders wrote The One Where Harry is a Prat (Not Really) (PG-13, 5941) Summary: The one where Harry is a prat, a pig, an incompetent wazzock, an imbecile and ridiculous. Harry hears Draco talking about his favourite flower and buys him a bouquet full of them. Why, then, does he think Harry’s trying to kill him? 50. tigersilver wrote Eighteen Kisses (PG-13, 9436) Summary: Harry is being targeted by a very determined and wily Malfoy, a Malfoy with sly hands and a sweet, sweet mouth. 51. germankitty wrote The Best of Food (PG-13, 16884) Summary: It all started at the Hogsmeade Food Fayre. If some people those idiots Smith and McLaggen hadn't tried to sabotage a few participants, Draco would never have had to put up with having Potter's bread stall jammed in next to his. (And no, that wasn't a pun, thanks ever so.) Because then nobody could have claimed they'd seen him nibble morsels of tasty, delicious home-baked bread directly from Potter's fingers. Or let Potter lick spoonsful of Draco’s exquisite, scrumptious gourmet preserves directly from the jar. Clearly, Pansy, Blaise and Granger those people were quite delusional. At least that's Draco's story and he's sticking to it. 52. potteresque_ire wrote The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself) (NC-17, 67053) Summary: In a deserted cottage miles away from Hogsmeade, a pair of young spirits waited for a new owner to call the place home. One day, Auror Harry Potter bought the cottage. One evening, farm wizard Draco Malfoy showed up to spend the night with Harry… and steal from the kitchen. Why don’t we let Kate tell you their story? She’s the spirit who looks after the kitchen, and she’s got quite a bit to say… 53. sassy_cissa wrote Three Months, Eleven Days and Nine Hours (PG-13, 11029) Summary: Broke and living in a one room hovel in Knockturn Alley, Draco hunts in rubbish bins for food. Nothing could be more humiliating, right? Unless you're Draco Malfoy...

PODFIC

1. semperfiona read Pomegranate (NC-17) Summary: Podfic of "Pomegranate" by treacle_tartlet. More than a decade after the War, Draco makes a triumphant return to the wizarding world as the successful chef/owner of Pomegranate, only to have his world thrown into disorder when Harry arrives unexpectedly in the dining room.

#hd fan fair #hd food fair #drarry fic #drarry art #Harry Potter #harry x draco #draco malfoy/harry potter #please signal boost!

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luckyspike · 6 years ago

Text

Adventures in America, Ch. 9 - Jackson County, Missouri

In which we learn about Rachael and Noel

Adam and Lucky bond over mutual interests that aren’t weather

And Aziraphale and Crowley share a soft moment at the edge of a corn field

Read the previous chapters here (not on AO3 yet!): ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7 | ch 8

or just check out my fanfiction tag

The next day brought a trip to the great state of Missouri, and more tornadoes. Bigger, this time, longer-lived. Adam and Lucky watched with great enthusiasm as the powerlines flashed when the tornado tore through them, and then with dread as they watched the biggest tornado of the day lift a barn entirely up off the ground and hurl it, in pieces, hundreds of yards to either side. When the danger had passed, Rachael drove the truck toward the property, the students taking in the destruction as they drove past the bits of barn on the way up the farm road. Noel and Rachael led the way to the farmhouse, where they knocked on the door and checked on the homeowner and were assured that it was just hay in the barn, thanks for checking but we’re fine, appreciate the stop.

“It should be a compulsory part of storm chasing,” Noel told the boys solemnly as they piled back into the truck. “Lots of chasers do it, and that’s great, but I’ve seen vans and trucks blow past a trashed building just to keep following the storm.” He shook his head. “No excuse for that, not really.”

There wasn’t as much lightning with that system, so Rachael didn’t bother throwing the probes out. After they checked on the farm house, they drove after the storm for a little while longer, but it fell apart near the capitol, and they called it a night. Noel was driving by then, and when the group decided a diner sounded just perfect for a quick bite before bed, he somehow managed to navigate to a greasy spoon on the side of the road that promised some of the best burgers in the midwest. Adam wasn’t typically a fan of burgers, but when faced with a claim like that, he felt it was fairly mandatory to at least give them a try.

They chatted idly about the storms of the day while the waited, Adam nursing a Pepsi and Lucky working on a black-and-white milkshake. “So what are we thinking about tomorrow?” Noel asked, over the rim of his coffee cup.

Rachael had the laptop out, and she didn’t look particularly happy. “Not … not looking good. Not for the next few days, as much as I can estimate.” She sighed. “I can look again in the morning, for sure, but if there’s anything, it’s going to be little, and it’ll be all the way up in South Dakota, probably.”

Noel winced. “Worth the drive?”

“Well … I mean, I’ll check tomorrow, but if you want my money on it … no. Sorry. There’s a few little system set-ups in the works, but nothing I can forsee producing anything worthwhile. Probably a bust day.”

Lucky and Adam exchanged a look. “So what do we do on bust days?” Adam asked, over the slurping of the milkshake. Although this was supposed to be an educational trip, he was sort of desperately hoping the answer wasn’t going to be studying. Certainly, if he was in America, there would be something to do besides sit around and study.

“Well, Noel has some textbooks in the truck that you two can share, and -” Rachael caught their expressions and stopped to laugh. “Nah, just kidding. I mean, you can if you want to, but doesn’t sound very fun, does it?” They shook their heads slowly. “Noel and I have a lot of photos and video to edit, so we’re gonna be pretty tied up with that most of the day, but since we won’t be traveling anywhere, might make sense for us to head back to Kansas City tonight and stay there, and you guys can explore around tomorrow if you want. There’s museums and stuff there, and it’s not even a two-hour drive, so not too bad to head to tonight.”

Lucky nodded. “Kansas City’s good with me. I’ve never been there.”

“I have once,” Adam said, as the waitress set his food down in front of him. Regardless of the quality of the burger, it was certainly one of the biggest burgers he’d ever seen. Next to him, Lucky made a confused noise that reminded him, a little, of Crowley, and made something that felt a little like homesickness twist in his gut, although that might have just been hunger at the sight of the burger and fries. “Nah, just kidding.” He picked up a fry and smirked at the other boy. “I’m game though.”

“I was so confused for a minute.” The waitress set down Lucky’s meal: an enormous plate of fried chicken. “Oh man, oh yes.”

“You really gonna eat all that?”

“Or die trying.”

Noel sighed wistfully. “I wish I could still eat like that without needing a handful of antacids afterwards.” He’d ordered a BLT for himself, and Rachael had chosen a tuna melt.

“You can have a piece if you want?” Lucky pushed the drumstick close to Noel, who shook his head. “Sure?”

“Enjoy it for me. Much as I’d like it, I’d prefer to sleep tonight.”

They ate in silence for a while. Adam considered his burger. It was certainly good, but was it one of the best? He chewed each bite thoughtfully, and tried to balance the juiciness of the meat with the sharpness of the cheese and the varied tastes - sweet, acid, umami - of the condiments. About a quarter of the way through, he settled on the conclusion that it maybe wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but it certainly was in the top five. He set it down to take a photo of it for the group, which he would include with the tornado pictures when he sent them later.

“You guys still have to show me your pictures,” Rachael said, the sight of Adam’s phone jogging her memory. “Lucky, you took a million yesterday and today - I heard your camera. Any favorites?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed his mouthful of chicken. “I’ll show you when I’m not greasy.”

“Deal.” She cocked her head, a loose lock of dark hair falling across her nose. She blew it out of the way. “How about you, Adam?”

He thought about all the photos and videos he’d taken, and considered. “I think some are pretty good,” he concluded. “My friends back home loved some of the ones from yesterday, but I think that was more because of the tornado and not as much the quality of the photography. I’ll show you when I’m done.”

“That’s fair.” She nudged Noel. “I know you have some great pictures, I heard your camera going off all day like it was going out of style.”

Noel replied, and Adam ate quietly as they bantered back and forth. He grinned a little too, around bites of burger, because for two research partners, Noel and Rachael were really very funny together. He wondered if they were more than research partners, but neither had ever said, and while he wouldn’t have thought twice about asking when he was eleven, at eighteen he liked to think he had picked up enough social graces through the years to know better than to come out with a question like that*. Besides, neither wore a ring, and neither had made any kind of overt romantic gesture toward the other, which led Adam to believe that if they were more than research partners, they probably didn’t like to discuss it with customers.

[*And if anything, Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship had taught him that an obvious friendship and incredible chemistry didn’t always infer a relationship that any involved parties would be willing to talk about for any length of time without blushing, or turning into a gigantic serpent and escaping through a window. Although Adam also knew the latter was significantly less likely within the general population.]

“So where are you guys from?” Lucky asked, and Adam startled out of his reverie. “I mean, I read your bios online, but like - Noel, you’re from around this part of the country, aren’t you?”

“Not quite - I’m from Montana.” Noel’s expression changed when he mentioned that state, settled into something calm and peaceful. “Big Sky country. Not too many tornadoes up that way, though, but the winter storms can be something up in the mountains. That’s home base for me, when it’s not chasing season.”

“So you like snow and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah! Cross-country skiing, trapping, fishing.” He laughed. “Growing up out there, just me and my mom, it was a little wild. She’s kind of a frontier-woman type, so we grew or hunted a lot of our own food.” He shrugged. “Not that I don’t love it, obviously, nothing better than being out in nature if you ask me, but I do like being able to run to the store when I’m out of peanut butter. College domesticated me, I guess.”

“Education’ll do that,” Rachael agreed, laughing. “One minute you’re Grizzly Adams, the next you’re eating Top Ramen and yelling at the weather channel in an air-conditioned dorm because it’s kind of hot outside.”

Noel acted affronted at that. “My dorm didn’t have air conditioning, excuse you.”

“Oh, so sorry, my mistake.” Lucky and Adam were laughing, which Adam rather suspected was the intended outcome of the little show the two scientists were putting on. “Was it actually a constructed building or did you fashion your own dorm out of hewn logs?”

Noel shook his head. “They wouldn’t let me build a log cabin on campus, can you believe?” He nodded her way. “Anyway, that’s me, what about you? Where you from? The public wants to know.”

“Florida.” Rachael sighed. “Sorry to say, I am Florida Woman.” Lucky and Adam laughed again. “Fighting alligators, selling fake Superbowl tickets, finding manatees in the swimming pool … Yes, all my doing.”

Lucky looked somewhat worried, and Adam paused. “Wait, really?”

“No.” She scoffed. “Well, okay, one time a manatee did get into our pool, but that was one time. During a hurricane.” She waved a hand. “Storm surge, you know how it is. Anyway, I did not grow up on the wild plains of America - I grew up like a normal American kid in a kind-of-nice trailer park on the Gulf coast, and was already completely civilized by the time I arrived at college.”

Adam nodded. “Did you guys meet in college, or … ?” he trailed off, letting the question hang. Rachael’s mouth dropped open.

“Adam, how old do you think I am?”

Adam winced. “Sorry, I just -” but she was laughing anyway, and he relaxed and broke into a grin. “Sorry.”

“Kidding, kidding. No, we didn’t meet in college. Well,” she amended, “I was in college. He was working for OSU at the time, I think?” Noel nodded in confirmation. “Anyway, I was working with OSU’s lightning research team and he was helping with the mesonet, so that’s where we met. Then a few years later, when I was looking to do more lightning research for my PhD, he had started storm chasing, and he actually hired me on.” She shrugged. “Free research opportunities for me, and another driver for him.”

“Plus I can pay her in Dunkin coffee, which is a lot less than what the other candidates I interviewed wanted,” he joked. She made a face at him. “Alright, and money, yes. Even benefits, eventually.”

Rachael pushed her plate away, the tuna melt long gone and the fries all but eaten. She rested her face in her hands. “Yeah, that was a bigger adventure than storm chasing was that year, I think. God, getting him to do literally any amount of official paperwork is actually painful.”

“Which is why I gave her a raise and expanded her duties to include the business operations.” He snorted. “Worked out great for me - I just keep the truck and the equipment running, and don’t get us killed, she finds the storms and does taxes.”

Lucky frowned then, and Adam could almost hear what the other boy was thinking. He watched Lucky chew a french fry thoughtfully, swallow, and then open his mouth. Rachael, grinning like a shark, headed him off before he could get a word out. “If you’re about to ask if we are anything more than business partners, the answer is no. Everyone thinks so, though.” She sighed. “Alas, I’m married to a lovely woman who holds down the fort in Florida, and Noel here is married to Montana, I think.”

“Yeah, okay.” He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“And you both just really like weather?” Adam asked, also choosing to push his plate away, although the handful of fries left were practically calling to him. “S’how you got into storm chasing?”

“I mean, I grew up in lightning country, so I guess it just carried on from there. I always liked it, wanted to know how it worked.” Rachael shrugged. “You?”

“I like road trips and tornadoes,” Noel answered, simply. “I went to college with a plan to get a business degree or something, but I actually went chasing for the first time after my freshman year, kind of fell into it, and switched my major to geology after that.”

Adam sat back. “Wicked.”

The waitress came back with the bill, and they all threw down a little cash, before wandering back out to the truck. Behind the storm, the sky was clear and dark, a few stars winking over the light pollution. Noel looked up as they crossed the parking lot and sighed. “You know that’s the thing about Montana. It really does have a sky you don’t get anywhere else. Figuratively speaking.”

“My Dad took me out to Colorado once,” Lucky said, conversationally. “We were out at some base in the middle of nowhere. The stars were insane - you could see the milky way and everything. Back home, there’s so much light pollution you’re lucky if you see enough stars to count on two hands.” He sighed, wistful. “Sometimes I think I might move out this way after school. I’m sick of DC, anyway.”

“Can’t imagine it’s a quiet place to live,” Rachael said sympathetically. “And if you’re looking to study meteorology it’s nice to have it closer to your backyard, so to speak. ‘Course, if you stay in Washington, maybe you could lobby against climate change.” Lucky made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and stuck out his tongue. “Or not. Just a thought.”

“No way. I’m over it. The whole DC rat-race.” He waved his arms, and then hauled the door to the back seat of the truck open. “Forget it.” Once in the truck, he looked across the back seat to Adam, who was fiddling with his seatbelt in the dark. “What about you, Adam? You think you wanna stay in England?”

“Oh, yeah,” Adam replied, without ever even having to think about it. He had, after all, made up his mind about that ages ago. “I like to travel and everything, though, so it’d be cool to find some job where you get to travel a bit. But yeah, Tadfield’ll always be home for sure.”

“That’s cool.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, wiping the last remnants of chicken grease off on his shorts. “Is it a big place?”

Adam shook his head. “Oh, no. Few hundred people at the outside. But it’s close to Oxford, and not all that far from London, so it’s kind of the best of both worlds, I guess.” He looked out of the window, and tried to ignore the feeling of homesickness then - definitely not hunger anymore, no way it could be after that burger.

There was quiet for a minute, and then, gently, Rachael said, “Have you ever been away from home this long before?”

“No,” he answered, automatically, and then he flinched, glad for the darkness and the fact that his face was turned away from Lucky. He wasn’t ashamed that he hadn’t traveled for six weeks before, not at all, but he didn’t want the other guy to think he was some homesick little kid. “No,” he decided, going on as if he was bored with the subject, “but I’ve gone away for a couple weeks before, on holiday.”

“Six weeks is a long time,” Rachael answered, tone neutral. “I guess if we’re not going to be chasing tomorrow you’ll have time to call England at a reasonable hour, though, so there’s something, right?” She cracked the laptop open and smiled in the soft glow of the screen. “Silver lining in every cloud, right?”

“You see clouds?” Lucky leaned around the seat a little to get a better look.

“Not a one.”

When they arrived in Kansas City, the sun had long-since set, and the lights of the city illuminated the sky with a soft glow. They found a hotel on the outskirts of the city, cheap and clean, and parted ways to crash for the evening. Adam was looking forward to a quick shower and the soft embrace of a hotel mattress, but as he started to unpack for the night it appeared Lucky had other plans.

“So what do you think we should do tomorrow?”

“Huh? Oh. I dunno. What do you want to do?”

Lucky thought it over. “Dunno. We could just wander around the city, I guess. Oh, there’s an amusement park. You like rollercoasters?”

“They’re cool.” Adam shrugged. “Any museums or anything? Or like, barbecue?”

“Oh, a barbecue tour. Might be cool.” He tapped at his phone for a while, and scratched his beard thoughtfully. “What about this haunted building walking tour?”

“Oh yeah? Sounds awesome, actually. I’d be up for it.”

Lucky put his head to the side. “Yeah, I guess the Mormons were big around here for awhile? Oh, man, if we had a car we could take a day trip to the Garden of Eden, apparently.”

That drew a laugh out of Adam. “The Garden of Eden?” he asked, incredulous. “In driving distance? What is it, like a religious amusement park or something?”

“No, no, some people believe that the Garden of Eden was here in Missouri.” He giggled. “I always heard Eden was in the middle east or whatever. Like Mesopotamia area. Guess it could have been in Missouri though. Why not? No one really knows.”

Adam laughed. “I dunno, maybe someone does.”

“What, you know some immortals?” Lucky grinned. “Or what, wizards? Is Hogwarts real? I mean, I did move away when I was eleven, I could have missed my Hogwarts letter.”

“Never been to Hogwarts, nah. But you never know.” He shrugged. “All kinds of scholars figure it’s in the middle east. Maybe one of ‘em has an inside line, you know?”

“To who? God?”

Adam smirked. “You never know. Anyway, I’m gonna grab a shower. I’m in for the ghost tour thing tomorrow, though - sounds awesome.”

“You think they’re real?” The question stopped Adam halfway to the bathroom. “Ghosts, that is.”

Adam considered it. He could be honest**, of course, but then would Lucky think he was weird? But then the other boy had been the one to bring up the ghosts up in the first place. He chewed it over for a second, and then shrugged again. “Yeah.”

[** Not completely honest. There were things that he would always leave out. Being the actual Antichrist, for one.]

“Same.” He frowned. “I mean, I’ve never seen one, but there’s so many people that believe they exist, and that they’ve seen them, there has to be something to it, right?”

“Well …” Adam chewed his lip, and then, after a second, smiled. “Alright, maybe, yeah, but to play devil’s advocate for a minute, what if it’s not ghosts at all, but a totally natural phenomenon? Infrasound, or something?”

Lucky cocked his head. “Huh? What’s that?”

Adam looked to the shower, and then tossed his pajamas into the bathroom, haphazard on the tile floor, before he turned back around and headed to sit on his bed, legs crossed and leaned back, across from Lucky. He raised an eyebrow. “Infrasound. Supposedly can make people see and hear and thing all kinds of stuff. Hallucinations and everything.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Lucky tossed his phone aside and fixed Adam with his full attention. “It can make people see ghosts?”

Adam grinned, wide and wicked. “You ever heard of the incident at Dyatlov Pass?”

“No. Is it weird?” Adam nodded. “Cool?” Another nod. “Mysterious?” A very affirmative nod. “Dude, tell me everything.”

Adam did. The pajamas sat, forgotten, on the bathroom floor, until the early hours of the morning, while the boys chattered on.

“Independence, Missouri.” The 4-Runner’s brakes didn’t dare squeak as it pulled to a stop. The engine hushed and shut off, and Crowley and Aziraphale sat for a long minute, staring out of the dark windshield to a field lit only by the car’s headlights. They didn’t need them, so Crowley shut them off too. “City of Zion,” Aziraphale observed, dryly. “Site of the Garden of Eden, they say.”

“I don’t remember all the corn,” Crowley said. Aziraphale didn’t respond, instead opening his door and stepping out of the car, into the humid night air. Above, the stars that managed to shine in spite of the light pollution glimmered weakly through the gaps in the clouds.

Aziraphale surveyed the field below them, and when he spoke again, it was in a language so long-dead that Crowley had to scramble to figure out what he was saying, at first. But it surprised him, eventually, how easily it came back, how it rolled off his tongue when he replied, like it had never died, never been shattered to the four corners when the Tower fell.

“It’s funny, how they think, don’t you think?” The angel chuckled a little. “Wonder what our lives would have been like if it had really been here, don’t you?”

Crowley was silent for a second, and then Aziraphale looked over, surprised, as a skinny elbow dug into his ribs. “Maybe I’d have been a corn snake.”

“Crowley,” he admonished, while the demon burst out into laughter. “You’re speaking a dead language that’s not been heard in thousands of years, and you make a pun? Have some respect.”

“I never will.” He ran his hands through his hair, still snickering. “If the Garden was actually in Missouri …” He sighed. “Well, for one, we’d have different accents.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” He left the demon to his own devices for a minute, giggling and making terrible puns in a tongue long-forgotten, and instead looked over the cornfield, flat and stretched out across the plains. On the other side, he could just hear the sound of running water.

“Oy, angel.” Startled, Azirpahale looked to Crowley, wide-eyed. The other was watching him, and because his sunglasses were perched on his head, sending Crowley’s mess of red hair in all sorts of directions, Aziraphale could see his eyes properly. He looked amused, most of all, but somewhere in there he was watching Aziraphale carefully. Thoughtful. “What’re you thinking about?”

“The Garden. The real Garden.” He looked around, the creatures of the night crying and squeaking and chirping all around. “Do you think, Crowley, that if it had been here - really, in real life - things would have gone the same?”

Crowley puffed out a breath, thoughtful. “Deep, angel. S’a big question. You’re giving everything a whole new beginning, for a start. It’s all so big, an’ ineffable, hard to know, isn’t it?”

“The ineffable plan might have stayed the same.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. “It … would be different though, wouldn’t it? It’d have to be. The Garden is in a whole different place.”

“Not necessarily. What happened in the Garden probably didn’t happen just because the Garden was where it was. It happened because of the plan -”

“Oh, sod the plan,” Crowley said with a disgusted noise. “It happened because Eve wanted to know what else was out there, and Adam agreed with her. And She made it easy for them to find out, in a way.” He pointed upwards, to where the moon was trying to peek through the wispy layer of clouds left behind from the day’s storms. “Could have always put it up there.” He snorted. “She never had a plan, she just set the pieces out and let them fall where they did.”

Aziraphale scowled in the way he always did when his disagreed, and disapproved, but he didn’t say anything about it. It was an argument they had had time and time again - Aziraphale arguing that the plan is ineffable and therefore extant but not anything either he or Crowley would ever be able to understand, and Crowley arguing that there was no plan to begin with, and She was ad-libbing and rolling with the hits as they came - and he didn’t feel like having it tonight. Instead, he re-set his expression to a more neutral, thoughtful one, and slid his hand into Crowley’s. The demon, wordlessly, squeezed it. “What about us?”

Crowley looked surprised. “What about us?” He shifted nervously onto his heels, and then laced his fingers through Aziraphale’s, the better to keep his balance.

“Would we have turned out the same, do you think?”

“I …” Crowley trailed off. He thought. Aziraphale let him, and stood beside him in companionable silence, trying to corral his own ideas about that question into something he might be able to elucidate. “Depends,” Crowley decided, eventually. “I’d have still done the bit at the start of it all, but after that …” He fixed Azirpahale with a curious expression. “Would you have still given away your sword?”

It was a question Aziraphale hadn’t expected, only because the answer to it was so obvious. He blinked. “Of course.”

The demon nodded, satisfied. “Then angel, I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth to find out what you were going to do next, no matter where we started.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “So we’d probably have ended up just the same.”

The thought of it made the angel smile, and he stepped closer to Crowley, standing close enough that their shoulders bumped and settled together, close and familiar and soft in spite of Crowley’s bony joints. “With different accents.”

“Well, yeah. With different accents. Naturally.”

Now with Chapter 10!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #adam young #warlock dowling #crowley #aziraphale #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the one where they go to america

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