#tortilla chips??? never hurt

[mando-abs]

Before I go to bed, I just want to give a shoutout to Dos Bros. Ever since I had gallbladder pain and eventual removal, y’all never, not once, made my tummy hurt when it was takeout night. And y’all always leave me with a full belly even when that wasn’t always a given when I was in pain. You’re a real one.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 24

part 1 | part 23 | ao3

cw: alcohol, throwing up, brief reference to canonical character death

"Oh, my god!" Robin barks, nearly throwing herself off-balance again with the force of her laugh. "This is too good, man. You truly cannot escape your babysitting duties."

"Can I help you?" Max seethes.

Help him? Help him? "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She gestures to the guy she's holding onto, some fluffy-haired kid with a cut-off vest covered in safety pins that Steve sort of vaguely recognizes as one of Eddie's friends. Oh, shit. Is Eddie here finally? Has he seen him?

"Wait, where's Lucas?" Steve asks.

"Who cares?" she bites back.

The guy gives a nervous chuckle and loosens his grip on her waist. "Uh-h. Did you say babysitter?"

"He's not actually, Jesus. I'm fourteen; I don't need a babysitter. And he was just leaving, anyway, right?"

Her glare feels like a slap. Girl's got daggers in her eyes, holy shit. It's like she's hoping some of El's powers magically transferred to her; like she's picturing him flying ten feet into the air and landing with a splat on the far side of the concrete, and he doesn't need this. He did not come out tonight to be bullied by a teenager. "Okay, that's it, I'm taking—"

"—me to the punch bowl!" Robin interrupts, putting her hands on Steve's chest to stop him from grabbing Max and hauling her back to the car.

"Robin, what—?"

"Yep!" She shoves him hard, pushing him to the edge of the dance floor. "Silly me, just dying of thirst, ha ha. Okay, cool, see you both later!"

—

"What the hell was that?" Steve demands when they're safely on the far side of the pavilion.

"An intervention."

Oh, my god. May he never hear the word 'intervention' again in his life.

"Un-ruffle your Mother Hen feathers for two seconds and think, would you? One: it would look really, really, seriously weird for you to be seen dragging a dead jock's kid sister kicking and screaming to your car."

A dead jock’s kid sister. Jesus, tipsy Robin has no tact.

"Two: you said we were going to go out and have fun and get, and I quote, 'very drunk.' Take your babysitter hat off for one night. She's a high schooler, and this is a high school party."

"Yeah, I know," he sulks. Doesn't need the reminder that he's technically past the age limit.

"Okay, so then let her have fun! It's not like you weren't out drinking and smoking by her age."

'I'm always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct.' Goddammit. Steve needs another drink. "I just don't want her to do anything dumb and get hurt."

"She won't. We can just, like, keep an eye on her from a distance, right? Let her come to us if she needs anything."

"So we should just act like your parents?" Steve snorts.

"My parents are amazing, thank you!"

"Your mom offered me mushroom tea once."

"Like I said: amazing."

Steve huffs a laugh, flips his hair out of his eyes and snags a handful of tortilla chips. "Okay," he says around a crunchy bite, "so what's the third thing?"

"Third thing?" Robin asks. She’s not even looking at him anymore, her eyes eager and distracted as she scans the crowd.

"You're biting your lip weird, there's clearly a third thing."

She turns to him, and the smile springs free from its containment, spreading all over her flushed, ecstatic face. "Vickie just showed up."

—

Steve’s hammered.

Whoops.

Didn’t mean to do it; feels a little bad about it as he tips his head up to the sky and all the stars go raining in bright streaks across his vision. Reminds him of the ceiling at Starcourt, nauseous and spinning under a swirl of bright fluorescence. He hopes Rob’s flirting is going well.

He meant to get politely drunk.

A socially appropriate amount.

But then Robin ran off to flirt with Vickie, and Steve was doing his best to just lay low, steer clear of Max and maybe find a way to casually run into Eddie if he could find him, when he spotted the girl he went on that disaster of a date with instead and realized his options were either: stay there by the beer coolers while she came over with her new date and subjected him to the most painful small talk of his life, or retreat to the dark edges of the party with as much booze as he could carry, so.

He's slumped on top of a picnic bench downwind of the bonfire, bad ear ringing, belly full to bursting, trying to remember when one beer became… more than one beer.

Five?

Six, maybe?

Fuck.

“‘M gonna puke,” he confesses to the splintered wood beneath his feet; to the pine bough overhead, the smoky fire at his back.

“Wow,” someone says, an amused lilt to their tone, and Steve knows that voice, he—

Oh, no.

Ohhhh, no.

Now? Really?

Steve whips his head around, opens his mouth to ask ‘Eddie?’ and barfs all over his shoes.

—

part 25

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I bet Miguel can cook REALLY well.

Like CRAZY WELL.

Being a dad he did have to come up with something to eat for dinner every night

And with Gabriella being a bit picky, sometimes he had to get creative

And some of his favorite memories are the conversations he and Gabbie had while dinner was on the stove

But even now, he loves it. Miguel finds he act of cooking so relaxing. He likes the peace and the order of it

And even if he comes in really really late from HQ - he'll still try and cook something

Fighting sleep while cooking a quesadilla on the stove

He's a Sazon loyalist SORRY ADOBO STANS

There's always tortillas, sour cream and salsa verde in his fridge - freshly made

(if you got those you can figure something out)

And he grows his own cilantro and basil on the window sill

And he'll never use powdered garlic, only fresh

Yes he can eat garlic - yes people on campus ask him that a lot

(he's hot ACTUALLY a vampire)

His seafood is TO DIE FOR

Miguel can make amazing lobster tail, or crab legs (with Old Bay and butter of course)

And his Ceviche is SO GOOD and SO FRESH

Most likely makes everything spicy. It's not even that he 'loves' spicy food - He just makes it spicy AF and acts like he doesn't notice

MEANWHILE you're next to him and it hurts to breathe

He and Hobie are bean stans.

Miguel loves them in Chilli con Carne, with rice, refried, you name it

and Hobie goes through those British blue cans of Heinz baked beans like it's nobodies business

They both think beans are underrated

Makes AMAZING MOLE and even better Tamales

But you have to BEG him for weeks on end to get him to make Tamales cause he can't be bothered - and he will make you help

He likes Avocado, like in general. On toast, with eggs, guacamole use always a staple

He'll often just eat chips and guacamole the whole day in his office and he'll get pissed if the food court is out of it.

Well look at a corn shell ground beef taco and be like 'You think that's a taco? Is that what you honestly believe?'

Loves cooking with other people - in fact Miguel actually just likes working with people in general. That's why Lyla has a personality.

He's good at guiding others during cooking and teaching them things and not bossing them around

OBSESSED LIKE CONCERNINGLY SO

With mango and Tajin

He'll put Tajin seasoning on ANYTHING - the first time Jess saw him put it on watermelon she was like 'what for????'

But he loves fruit in general, watermelon, lychee, guava. A lot of them are grown fresh in the Society gardens

Strawberries are a favorite of his. Gabriella loved strawberries on pancakes

He pronounces lychee - Leechee (not Lie-chee)

He's the fucking PRO at protein shakes and milkshakes

The man needs workout fuel and whey powder and kale and potassium and-

He's in the kitchen 5am getting ready for the gym

Making a shit ton of peanut butter strawberry banana and oats protein smoothie with coconut milk and honey to sweeten

Because he does have a sweet tooth.

Jolly Ranchers are an oral fixation

You can hear him sucking on one, the quiet clacking of it.

Or see him press it into his cheek, lost in thought

But baking and sweets are his secret love

He just doesn't have anyone to test it on anymore - so he doesn't

His flan is the best, and it was one of Gabbie's show faves

He eats parfaits pretty often, and makes them a lot for Jess (and she teases it for it)

Miguel LOVES tres leches cake, as sweet as possible. And fancy stuff like creme brulee

Don't tell anyone but he actually really likes cheesecake he acts like it's a secret

With him cooking get ready for the most sugariest breakfast ever. It's a dad thing.

Whipped cream, fruits, syrup, chocolate chips, you name it.

Sure Miguel shouldn't have been giving Gabriella THAT much sugar THAT early - but with you it's fine so enjoy the stomach ache in two hours

Another dad thing:

COOK OUT FOOD.

Him and Peter get INTENSE.

Miguel swears by charcoal grills, Peter likes propane and gas

Miguel is the tio with the best Hot dogs and relish that HITS

Peter is the burger dad who spends an insane amount of money on Angus beef

Miguel judges your hot dog toppings but says nothing

His ELOTE???? EUPHORIC

Like,,, it'll bring you to tears it's so good - I don't know how he does it

And when it comes to cooking he's ALWAYS willing to learn

He'd rather invite you over and cook you something than going out to eat

He'll learn something you like or where you're from and make something from there

Even better if you can teach him how to make something - the two of you can make it together

But his favorite part by far is setting it down at the table, trying not to seem like he's watching your reaction

And seeing your face light up at the first bite

Or even better -

Seeing you collapse into bed with a food coma

Miguel with cooking and food as a love language

[suuuupernovaaa]

Clean, Part 2

Hobie Brown x f! Reader. Jealousy. Misunderstanding. Making up.

Based on this request. Y/N goes backstage at Hobie's show, and sees something she shouldn't. Hobie shows up to her apartment, and misunderstands what he sees at first. Everyone is angry.

Mature, 18+

You fiddle with the drink in your hands, made much too strong, staring at the rings on your fingers and trying to blink the tears out of your eyes.

"Are you sure something was, uh, going on?" your brother asks, sitting across from you at your small kitchen table. You called him crying 30 minutes ago, and he rushed over to you.

A protective brother never really grows out of the protective thing, really, and your brother takes it to the next level - but he means well. Up until this point, he even seemed to approve of your new boyfriend, Hobie Brown. They hadn't met, but you spoke so highly of him, Grant was inclined to say the guy was half decent.

That might all be ruined now, though.

"Well," you say, wiping a stray tear from your red cheek, "she was like, pressed up on him. And, listen, women should wear whatever they want, but she was really not wearing a whole lot of anything, and it was just, uh, a real picture."

"Okay - what was he doing, though?" Grant asks, and you blink rapidly, trying to remember.

You rounded the corner and saw him, and your eyes lit up the way they always do when you see Hobie, your heart started pounding in your chest with excitement, and before he noticed you, she approached.

She squealed and threw her arms around him, and the way she moved... it was not just a hug. At least, it wasn't the way you'd hugged anyone. Not in public. It was something else, two people pressed so tightly together, absolutely no room for Jesus, and the way she moved her body. Ugh. It was like she was trying to get a fire started right there in the hallway.

But what had Hobie done? You'd turned and dashed out of there before you could really see. You remembered he wasn't hugging her back but, he wasn't shoving her away either. But had he, after you left?

You put your face in his hands. "I don't know. Even if he threw her off, how often are women throwing themselves at him like that? I don't know if I can stand that, Grant."

Grant reaches out, grabbing your forearm, and you look up at him. He shrugs at you. "You don't have to, Y/N. You can choose to break up with him if it's too much. But honestly, I think that'd be kind of stupid."

"You do?" You sit back in your chair, crossing your arms.

Grant stands up, crossing the kitchen to open the cupboard where you keep your snacks. He sighs when he finds it bare minus a bag of blue tortilla chips and some old vanilla wafers. "Yeah. You've never been this happy. Like, it's obvious. Maybe don't throw it away because someone hugged your boyfriend. That's, uh, pretty insecure."

You widen your eyes and gasp. "Grant!"

He turns around, shrugging again, and you resist the urge to throw your gin and tonic at him. "Well, it's true! Do you trust the guy?"

Instead of throwing the drink, you take a sip, and gag a little. Grant loves gin so you keep it around for him, but you truly detest it. It tastes like pine needles.

"Yeah. I do."

"Okay, then get over it and talk to him about-" Your older brother is cut off from what you're sure would be another hurtful rant by a pounding on the door.

"Y/N!" Hobie's voice calls from the other side of the door. "Are you in there? You're ignoring my calls! Where did you go after the show?"

You're stuck, frozen in your chair, your cheeks and nose still red and wet with tears. You and your brother stare at each other for a long moment, and then Hobie pounds on the door again.

"Y/N!"

Grant walks to the door, and pulls it open. You sit across the kitchen, out of view from anyone standing in the doorway.

"Who the fuck are you?" Hobie asks as soon as Grant opens the door. You've talked about your brother, even shown pictures, but Grant looks different in person. He's just a hair shorter than Hobie, making them both very tall men, and while Hobie is extremely strong, he's lean and lanky. Grant is sturdy, built, with wide shoulders and an intimidating brow. "Where's Y/N?"

Grant steps aside without saying a word, and Hobie brushes past him. He scans the apartment for just a second, before spotting you at the kitchen table.

"Y/N!" He rushes over, and you stand up. "What's - hey!" He reaches up to your cheeks. "You've been crying? Who the hell is this guy?" He looks equally angry and concerned.

"It's Grant. My brother."

Hobie's face relaxes, and he gives an exaggerated nod, leaning backwards as he does it. "Grant!" He turns, arm extended for a hand shake. "Sorry about that, mate. Didn't expect to see a strange man in my girl's flat. Not that she can't have friends over, just, you know. Went missing, been crying, strange man here. Not my favorite combination of events."

Grant shakes his hand. "No worries. I better uh, get going. I'll see you around."

He steps around Hobie, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him. "Love you. Call me tomorrow," he whispers, and you nod.

You stand with Hobie, quietly and awkwardly, as Grant puts on his coat and shoes, and finally makes an exit.

Hobie turns to you, arms outstretched. "Okay, what the hell, Y/N?"

You sigh and sit down, and take another drink of the disgusting gin and tonic. Making a face, you push the drink away. Hobie sits across from you and picks it up.

"I'm sorry I disappeared. I... had a, like, meltdown."

Hobie furrows his brow and leans forward. "What happened?"

You feel embarrassed now, and you know your already red cheeks are growing even hotter, probably your chest to match. It was childish and immature to assume the worst and run away, and Grant was right - you let your insecurities get the best of you. You let that become bigger than the trust you had in Hobie.

"It's stupid, but, I came backstage and saw some very beautiful girl kind of, rubbing all over you and I, I just freaked out and ran away. I called Grant. I'm really sorry. It was so dumb. Shit. I'm really sorry."

You're crying again now, and that only serves to add to the embarrassment. Surely Hobie is going to realize that you're more trouble than you're worth, that he could find someone who wouldn't put him through so much over the smallest things, and he'll leave. You wouldn't blame him.

Hobie shakes his head, letting out a little 'tsk, tsk, tsk' with each turn of his chin. "Y/N, that is pretty stupid. You've kicked ass for me before, and you couldn't do it tonight? I don't exactly like when people I don't know press themselves all over my front!"

His words sound harsh, but there's a teasing smile creeping across his lips, and you cal feel the tension slipping from your neck and shoulders.

"I can't just fight every woman who throws herself at you, Hobie."

His smirk turns into a full on grin, and he leans forward, grabbing your hand. "Sure you can. What's the point of having a girlfriend then?"

You throw your head back, laughing, feeling less silly with every joke he makes. When you look at him again, he pulls you up out of your chair, and leads you to your living room, kicking off his shoes and jacket as you go.

"Come on then, let me hold you for a moment," he whispers. He lays down on the couch, and pulls you down on top of him. Your head rests perfectly on his chest, his arms around your back, and your legs between his. Through his shirt, you can feel the steady, melodious sound of his strong heart beating. You rise and fall with his even breaths. You close your eyes, and allow yourself to feel safe and calm as he holds you.

"I really am sorry," you whisper, finally looking up at Hobie. He stares down at you with his soft, beautiful brown eyes.

"Maybe you need a reminder of how much I care about you."

You raise your eyebrow. "Maybe."

He puts two fingers under your chin, beckoning you to crawl up to him. "Kiss me, Y/N," he says in a quiet, demanding voice, and you don't hesitate. Your lips find his immediately and the kiss is explosive. You're both letting out all the tension, confusion, anger and sadness of the ruined evening. His hands find his way into your hair, crushing you to him, pulling just a little, and you moan into his mouth.

Hobie's lips move slowly down to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. "You need to know how I feel about you," he whispers between kisses. "How you're all I think about. I'm obsessed with you."

He pulls down on the collar of your shirt, and you thank the gods it's stretchy when his lips make their way to your chest, sucking, biting and kissing.

"You're perfect. You're mine."

With surprising agility and speed, Hobie flips the two of you over, leaving you gasping underneath him. He reaches down, grabbing you behind your knee, pulling your leg up along his side, and stares down at you.

"Too many clothes," you say, and he nods in response. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, and then reaches underneath you to undo your bra. He pulls that and your t-shirt swiftly off of you, and then undoes the buttons on your jean shorts.

Suddenly, he stands up. Bending over, he lifts you up bridal style. "Bedroom, I think," he says, holding you to his bare chest. It's a small apartment, and only a few steps before Hobie is tossing you onto your bed, leaving you in a fit of giggles.

As he undoes his belt and pulls his jeans off, you remove your shorts, as well, both of you left in just your underwear.

You lay back, propped up on your elbows, watching as he crawls up to you. You feel his breath on your thighs, your waist, and he's kissing your stomach.

His hand grazes over your ass, over your thigh, and as his mouth finds your breast, his fingers brush over your panties, just between your thighs, and you have to lay back on the bed and close your eyes.

"Hobie," you whisper, your voice just a breath. He pulls your panties to the side, and finds the immense wetness already gathered there.

"Fuck, you're wet," he moans with your nipple in his mouth, and begins toying with your clit. He rubs it in circles, up and down, and then his fingers dip down to your entrance, just teasing, before he's back at your clit.

You throw your arm over your face and let out a long, low moan. "Oh, god," you say, chest heaving.

His fingers leave your clit again, and he pushes them slowly into you, the metal of his rings creating a shocking, cold sensation.

"So fucking tight and wet," he moans, and brings his mouth to yours for another intense kiss as his fingers pump slowly in and out. He curves them upwards, finding that perfect spot, and you spread your legs as wide apart as you can underneath him, thrusting back up to meet him for every perfect stroke. "I want you to cum for me. I want you to be loud. Scream my name," he demands.

His fingers leave you, returning to your clit, using the perfect amount of pressure, swirling around, and you feel the coil forming.

"Oh, god, oh, fuck, Hobie, please," you pant into his mouth. His other hand is on your nipple, twisting and pulling gently, and it's an overwhelming combination of sensations.

He plunges his fingers into you again unexpectedly, and it sends you over the edge. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, over and over, and he moans almost as loudly as you into your mouth at the sensation of it.

"Yes, fucking cum on my hand," he whispers, not letting up until you reach down and move his hand away.

He collapses next to you, staring at you while you gasp for breath, a light sheen of sweat over both of you.

He never even took your panties off.

Finally, you look over at him, and he smiles softly at you. "That doesn't even begin to fucking cover how I feel about you, love."

You reach out, placing your hand gently on his cheek. "Can I show you how I feel now?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, if you must, my love," he says, and winks.

[stars-n-spice]

Bad Batch Food Headcanons:

Was having the meal of champions (soju, galbi, and buldak) and it got me thinking,,

So have this collection of random food headcanons:

Crosshair insists he can handle spicy food but he cannot. He's eating hot cheetos and he's fucking crying

Wrecker had to build up a tolerance for spice - he fucking LOVES spicy food ("It's like an explosion in my mouth!!") but couldn't handle it at first. Now he can handle buldak with half of the spice packet!

Hunter and Tech can handle their spice decently but Echo isn't too fond of spicy foods.

Like Wrecker, Omega built up a tolerance to spice, but also like Crosshair she's sensitive to it and will insist that she can handle her spice

Echo is a picky eater. That's like canon. He doesn't care that he's a grown man, he's ordering mac-n-cheese at the fancy restaurant. Deal with it.

Tech is another picky eater but he thrives off instant stuff like ramen or snacks like chips. Man can plow through a whole Costco-sized bag of tortilla chips in one sitting without realizing it.

Hunter has a stomach of steel, he'll eat anything and everything. It's only a matter of REMEMBERING to fucking eat. He'll stand up, nearly faint, then go, "What the hell?" and it's because he hasn't eaten since fucking yesterday.

No Crosshair, an ice coffee is NOT a suitable breakfast. How many times do we have to tell you? And aren't you fucking lactose intolerant???

Oh they love their dinosaur chicken nuggets though - especially Omega and Wrecker. They'll dunk them in ketchup and create a whole murder crime scene.

Omega LOVES soup. Any and all kinds! I think she'd really enjoy udon or 냉면 the most though. The slurp-ier the better!

I feel like Tech is a curry enjoyer. Indian curry, Thai curry, Japanese curry - he loves it all.

Rip Crosshair you would've loved flavored soju 😔

Rip Wrecker you would've loved Korean BBQ and all you can eat sushi

I don't think Hunter likes cold foods. His teeth are sensitive and they hurt when he eats cold stuff like ice cream (no I'm not projecting)

Crosshair likes mint ice cream. Echo likes rocky road. Wrecker enjoys strawberry or sherbert. Omega likes cookie dough. Tech likes caramel or coffee.

Ice cream is like the only kind of "dessert" that Crosshair likes (despite being lactose intolerant) - he doesn't really have a sweet tooth

WAIT CROSSHAIR WHEN I TELL YOU ABOUT BINGSU!!!

SPAM. SPAM. SPAM. Shut up they WOULD eat spam and idc what people say I fucking LOVE spam. Spam is the love of my life, they could never make me hate spam. I used to write parody love songs about spam as a kid. They would enjoy breakfasts of spam, rice, and eggs.

They'd devour the shit out of Mexican food. Like CMON-

Feel like Omega would like fiedo. And Echo too

Wrecker thinks breakfast burritos are godsend - he absolutely loves papas and chorizo

Y'know what would be funny? Echo being a picky eater yet LOVEING Mole. It's not for everyone (I personally like it) but he thinks it's good

Omega has a boba addiction. She has ro have it every week. Her favorites are Taro, Strawberry Matcha, and Honey Milk Tea

Only Hunter and Wrecker like boba; Echo, Crosshair, and Tech find the texture funny but they enjoy the drinks

I feel like Echo is a big bread eater. My sister reminds me a LOT of Echo and she absolutely ADORES bread (she's also a picky eater) - catch him at 85° or Paris Baguette

Hunter would love Soul Food and he also can work a grill

Rip Echo you would’ve loved soba and you would've loved 맥주

Tech actually secretly (not so secretly) has a sweet tooth - he really likes muffins and pies specifically

Omega and Wrecker record "Food Review" videos together

I have,, so many more ideas and whatnot but I'm leaving it here-

Ugh I just,,, I have so many foods I'd love to introduce them too-

[luveline]

Here’s an idea for the roan and eddie series?,,

what if Roan gets a bad toothache and Eddie + The reader have to take her to the dentist but it’s her first time so she’s extra scared and nervous about the dentist Eddie and The reader help try to get her to feel better about it

thank you anon! dad!eddie x almost step mom!reader, 2.5k

tw for dentist’s office visit and related minor trauma, minor oral surgery, sedation, infection and blood (there’s no graphic description but mentioned)

You're sitting in the back seat of Eddie's car, gaze flitting between his stone-set brow and his crying daughter intermittently. You've never seen Roan in pain like this before, and Eddie's reaction is heartbreaking. 

"I want more Mapap," Roan says tearfully, cheeks shining wet with tears and bright red, "Dad, I want Mapap, please." 

He keeps his focus on the road, but his voice betrays his panic, "You can have more in just a minute, babe. One minute." 

"I want it now," she says. 

Her toothache began a few nights ago after a mishap with a sharp tortilla chip. She'd cried unexpectedly —the older she gets, the better she handles small pains— and Eddie had doted on her lovingly, rubbing her back for hours until she was calm enough to show him the fallout. He shined a torch into her mouth and found the problem, a cracked baby tooth, her spit orangey-red with blood. 

He called the dentist the next morning, though she'd woken up without a fuss, and they'd agreed to see her in four days time to make sure it wasn't a problem. 

Three days later, it’s definitely a problem. Clearly the cracked tooth and exposed gum has become infected and left your poor almost-daughter in a lot of pain (almost because you and Eddie aren’t married yet, not because you don't love her like one). 

You give her knee a little rub, shushing and humming as sympathetically as you can. 

"Almost there," you murmur. 

"It hurts," she says sullenly, "daddy, I want the Mapap." 

Eddie's shoulder tense. He's not mad, you know that, he's just not sure what he can do. He licks his lips, turning into the parking lot, and doesn't answer until he's parked. 

"I'm coming, Ro," he says, "two seconds."

Eddie gets out of the car. You wait for him to open her door and scoop her out of her car seat before you get out yourself, dipping into the passenger side for the papers he'd set aside earlier, all of her medical information in a neat folder. 

You're pretty sure he forgets to lock the car, pat pat patting Roan's back as you begin the short walk to the dentist's office. Roan whines for painkillers and Eddie praises her for being so good rather than refuse her again, "You're so brave, babe," he says, arms full as you reach the door. 

You put your hand on his elbow before you open it. "I got this," you say. 

He nods stiffly. Together, you enter the dentist's office and Eddie quickly takes a seat, Roan longer than ever and yet impossibly small as she curls up in his lap, her swollen cheek held away from his chest. 

"I want to go home," she says, "I don't like it in here. I want to see Uncle Wayne." 

"Hi," you say as you approach the front desk, wincing at her crying behind you as it grows louder, "we’re here for an emergency appointment for Roan Munson."

The receptionist smiles, clicking Roan's name into the computer. She nods, ticks a box or two, and hands you a clipboard. "Fill this in, please. The dentist is on schedule, so it should be any minute now. Don't worry about finishing the form in time, as long as you hand it back before you leave." 

"Thank you." 

Eddie's promising things as you return, hand on Roan's knee. "I swear, sweetheart, it'll stop hurting any minute now. The dentist will give you a little bit of medicine to make the pain stop, and then he'll fix your tooth. How's that sound?" 

"I want medicine at the house," she says, eyes wide. 

Her wriggling panic from the pain has abated some now Eddie's holding her, but she hates the dentist, and it's written plainly on her face. The poor baby is terrified. 

You fill in her clipboard forms as best as you can. You're a Roan expert at home, having known her for more than a year and loving her that whole time, but there's some medical stuff you can't answer. You don't know what her blood type is, you certainly can't tell them where she was born. You assume Hawkin's general hospital, but you just don't know. If they wanted to know her favourite pair of shoes, or what shape she likes her pancakes in, you’d be the girl to ask. 

"You gotta fill this in," you say. 

Eddie looks up. "What?" 

"I don't know this stuff, sorry." 

He gives you a quick smile and takes the clipboard. "That's alright," he says, pressing it to Roan's leg. "Roan doesn't know your blood type either. Equal exchange." 

You crouch down by their seat and meet Roan's eyes. Tender, you tuck a sweaty curl behind her ear and give her your softest smile. 

"You're so brave, princess. You just tell me what you want after this and we'll go get it. Anything you want." 

Her lip wobbles. "It's scary in here," she says, like she's breathless. 

You find her hand and take a deep breath, hoping she'll take her own to match. 

“Don’t be scared. Me and dad are right here with you. Don’t be scared.” You smile at her, though really you want to frown, perturbed by her sniffling and her rumpled hair, her tear-sticky collar. “You think I’d let them hurt my girl? No way. We’re here to make you feel better, and I promise that’s all we’re gonna do. Me and dad aren’t going anywhere.”

She gets called into the dentist's office soon after. You take back the clipboard and Eddie puts her down on her own two feet for the short walk into the room, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You say polite and rushed hellos to the dentist and her assistant. 

"Hi, Roan," says Dr. Mackenzie, a tall, pretty black woman in scrubs and a white doctor’s coat . She’s known Roan since she had teeth to look at, but her presence unfortunately doesn't calm her. "I didn't think we'd see you so soon. What's the matter, hun?" 

"She cracked her tooth on a tortilla chip," Eddie says succinctly, though he does add, "Hi, Dr. Mackenzie. It's good to see you." 

She waves her hand at Eddie, grinning at you. "God, he's charming. Alright, Roan, let's have you up on the big chair. Dad can hold your hand, here we go." 

The assistant stands with her prepped tools, and Dr. Mackenzie grabs the circle light and moves it over Roan' face. Eddie rubs her little knuckles in a careful hold as Dr. Mackenzie investigates the wound. You stand off to the side feeling useless and wishing you were the one holding Roan's hand as she yelps. 

"I see," Dr. Mackenzie says. "Okay, so this is the tooth with the cavity we filled last time, do you remember? It's only a little tooth, and we wanted to prolong its lifespan, but the filling we used was a temporary one because it was white. White fillings look good, but they aren't as strong, and you must've had a very sharp chip. So what I want to do now is take an x-ray to assess the infection, and then we'll fix your poor tooth. How does that sound, dad?" 

"Is it a bad infection?" Eddie asks worriedly. 

Dr. Mackenzie shakes her head. "Not necessarily, but the tooth is cracked all the way to the root, that's why she's in so much pain." 

"Can I have Mapap now?" Roan asks, when the mirror tool's and the lollipop stick have been removed from her mouth. 

"Something stronger," Dr. Mackenzie agrees. 

You and the dentists have to step out of the room for the x-ray, but it only takes a second. Eddie stays and absorbs whatever miniscule radiation it is that's exuded. They don't show Roan, but the infection is a small abscess in her gum wrapped around the root of the tooth. Dr. Mackenzie has a couple of options for treatment, but the best and luckiest is that Roan can either be put under mild sedation or she can breathe some nitrous oxide, both methods avoiding all the pain and traumatic memory of an extraction. 

"It's more expensive to be sedated," Dr. Mackenzie says, because she has to. "But it's what I recommend."

Eddie's at the point where you're sure he'd do anything. "Then we'll do what you recommend," he says. 

"Alright. We'll only need a few minutes to prepare. Has she eaten today?" 

"Breakfast, but nothing since, she can't," you say. 

"Alright. Roan, I'm gonna give you a glucose dissolvable, hun. It tastes very sweet and chalky, but I want you to try and let it dissolve on your tongue, okay? You don't have to chew it." 

Roan eats the glucose tablet. You and Eddie stand hip to hip and as out of the way as you can manage as they prepare the room for her procedure, laying the chair very flat. When it's time to start, they usher you back to the chair at the opposite end of the room. Eddie holds her hand the whole time. They medicate her, and you're glad she's sedated, even if the procedure isn't especially brutal. They clamp and wiggle out her broken tooth in two clean pieces in about a minute, before draining the abscess and packing her wound with gauze. It's done in fifteen minutes altogether. 

They give her a couple of minutes to come around properly, asking guiding questions. Do you feel any pain, hun? Dizziness? Do you feel sick? 

Eddie doesn't let her walk. He picks her up with infinite gentleness and positions her head on his shoulder like a pillow, smoothing the hair from her face a strand at a time as the dentist talks about cleaning and prevention of further infection. 

"She might, uh, need to spit," the assistant remarks. 

Drool dribbles down Eddie's front. He's practically all smiles now that she's finally out of pain. "That's okay, I'm used to it by now." 

Back to the waiting room for more paperwork. There will be another heap to come in the mail sure enough, you can already picture the arguments you're going to have on the phone with Eddie's insurance, 

"World's most expensive bag of Doritos," you remark on the way back to the car. 

Eddie's thumb rubs thoughtlessly against the bumps of her spine. "My girl," he says, not talking to you, lips on Roan's forehead, "poor girl. Though I bet that's much better relief than a spoonful of Mapap, huh?" He kisses her smooth forehead. "You're the bravest girl in the whole world." 

His severeness startles you, but of course you agree. "The bravest in the universe," you agree. "How about I drive, handsome?" 

Eddie dotes the entire drive. You make a stop at the store for soft foods, ice cream and yogurt and soup, as well as a cute cup to make the salt water wash she's going to have to endure more appetising, as well as some general treats. Eddie, usually averted to you spending money on treats, doesn't say a bad word when you show him the new pyjamas, socks, and Barbie doll you've bought for her. He strokes some life into Roan's cheek and says, "Oh, look what Y/N's got for you, angel." 

"This isn't her present," you say firmly, turning back to the wheel. "She still gets to choose something else." 

Eddie kisses the top of her head, pleased when she has the sense about her to say, "My mouth tastes funny." 

"Yeah?" he asks. "You want to drink some of my water?" 

She drinks some water, though the majority of it ends up back in the bottle. She's still mildly woozy when you park the car in the driveway to your house and usher them inside of your sanctuary. Eddie's wrapped her up like an octopus, unwilling to part with her, and for once allowing you to expend some of your own energy on things that need to get down. You set them up with drinks and blankets and TV while you clean the mess of the kitchen. You give yourself a breather by the open window, and it's quiet enough to hear Eddie's praising murmurs. 

"You're so, so brave, Ro. You're such a brave girl, and me and Y/N have never been so proud of you… I know this has been a really hard week for you, and I promise I'm gonna make it up, okay? I love you." 

"...Love you, daddy." 

"I love you," he says again. "Can I have a look at your gauze, sweetheart?" 

"I'm tired." 

"Really quickly. Really quickly, and then we'll get you into some pyjamas." 

There's a gap of silence. 

"Dad, you have yucky stuff on your t-shirt." 

"Ew, I know. I was just crying so much worried about you," he teases. 

You grin at his silly fib and trek back into the living room where Roan's propped back on her big fluffy pillow on the couch, Eddie leaning over her just slightly. He's inching forward threateningly, Roan's gross dribble splotch on his chest and growing closer and closer. She giggles lazily. 

"Don't," she begs. 

"Don't what? You don't wanna hug me?" 

"Get changed, dad," she says, pushing his chest away. 

He sits up, noticing you where you wait by the back of the couch. "Hey. Y/N's gonna sit with you and I'm gonna change my shirt, okay? I'll be really fast, Ro, and then you owe me a hug." 

Roan sighs morosely. "Okay, you can have a hug now." 

"I can?" Eddie beams at you, beams at his girl, and looks properly light-hearted for the first time in days. "Thanks, Roan. You're the bestest." 

"I know." 

Eddie grabs blindly for you and tugs you down to join the hug wonkily. It’s haphazard and ill-fitting, but he squeezes your shoulder, and you try to get in on the love. It reminds you of any other night. 

Eddie tears himself away from her eventually to change. You stop him from stepping around you, taking his stubbly cheek into your hand. “Good job, Munson,” you say, letting your hand slide down his neck to the curve of his shoulder. “You were…” You swallow down the cheesy praise you were going to give him. “I think you deserve a treat too.”

“We all do,” he says. “I know you were freaked out–”

“I wasn’t,” you interrupt, though you concede, “Okay, a little bit.”

“Me too. I’m majorly impressed by how fast they fixed her.”

“You’ll be majorly impressed by the bill,” you joke softly. 

He steals a hug. “Ah, well. Worth every penny, right?”

You hug him back. “Definitely,” you agree. She’s worth whatever it costs. “Good thing we’ve been saving. Goodbye, familymoon.”

“We’re still going on vacation,” he says. He pulls back to chuck you under the chin. “Even if we have to walk there.”

“Dad, can I spit again? My mouth tastes bad,” Roan says. 

You usher him upstairs and tend to his daughter unflinchingly, happy to take the icky job. She’s worth a million times more than a vacation, and you’d deal with worse than spit if it means she feels better. 

—

more eddie, roan and reader <3

[trashpandato]

Spice

“Leeeena. Help me. I think I’m dying.”

Lena sighs as she returns from the kitchen and hands Kara a large glass of milk.

“You know, I did tell you this was a bad idea.”

Kara lets out another whine but accepts the milk gratefully and drinks it. There’s immediate relief in her features.

“I’m invulnerable. I’ve fought some of the worst aliens in the galaxy. I didn’t think one stupid chip could be this bad.”

Lena sighs again.

“Darling, the FDA has sent out warnings about these. The concentration of capsaicin in them is equivalent to pepper spray. Not really something anybody should ingest.”

Kara huffs and glares at the packaging that sits on the coffee table in front of her, taunting her. With her alien constitution, she can usually handle spice levels that most humans would not be able to tolerate, but now she has been defeated by a single tortilla chip.

“I’m going to have to add these to the very short list of substances that can hurt Supergirl,” Kara admits, taking another large sip of her milk.

“It’s a good thing that there’s a simple antidote,” Lena stresses, pointing her chin toward the glass in Kara’s hand. “But also, maybe just don’t tell anyone about this? I wouldn’t want your enemies to think that they should develop weapons using Carolina Reaper peppers moving forward.”

Kara shudders and nods. “Good point.”

Then, Lena disappears in the bathroom and returns wearing a pair of latex gloves. She picks up the “One Chip Challenge” packaging from the coffee table and puts it in a sealed bag, handling it much like she would handle any other biohazard.

When Kara makes grabby hands to entice Lena to snuggle up to her, Lena shakes her head.

“Nuh uh. I’m not letting you touch me until you’ve had a very long shower to get rid of any potential spice residue on your hands or face.”

Kara pouts but she gets up anyway. “Fine. But I want ice cream and couch cuddles after.”

“Deal. And maybe just stay away from ridiculous food challenges for a while?”

Kara is already a few steps down the hallway towards the bathroom when she shouts back over her shoulder:

“Never! I have a reputation to uphold!”

[k-marzolf]

fic idea—you live with Billy and one night he hears screaming/rustling/heavy breathing from your room. thinking there’s an intruder or some kind of danger, he breaks in but you’re having a nightmare. and then comfort.

love love LOVE your work btw! no worries if you’re busy 💗

Hi, Nonnie! I’m sorry it took a bit to respond, but I actually really like how this came out. I don’t know if you wanted roommate or established relationship. But I went with roommates and Billy is fresh outta the marines. Thank you for this request, I really enjoyed it,p!

@e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @kayhi808 @bookloverfilmoholic @milea @zz-kennedy @briannareneea985 @thejanecampaign @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firexfate @firequeensposts @danzer8705 @ittybxttykxttytxtty @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @cant-help-simping @aoi-targaryen @snowkestrel @idaofinfinity @oops89 @littleblackcatinwonderland

Clementines.

581 words.

Billy dug through the pantry at two in the morning, sweats around his hips loosely, his hoodie smelling like your perfume. You always stole it, claiming it was just warm. He always got like this at night, always wanting to snack, especially on something sweet.

He opened the fridge to get the bowl of frosting you had made for cake, but you wouldn’t notice that he’d used some for his graham crackers he thought, like a child stealing sweets from a parent.

In this case his roommate.

He groaned as he stuck it in his mouth. In the marines he was never allowed this, all he had were shitty premade meals.

He dipped it again, relishing in your talent for making him grow fat with your cooking, and stopped halfway, swearing he heard something, his time in the marines made him hyper vigilant. And then he heard it again, you were crying, sounding like you couldn’t breathe. He set the bowl and crackers down and moved toward your bedroom.

He wasn’t good at comfort, he wasn’t emotional, and it made him uncomfortable. The boy in him wasn’t comforted, how could he extend it without having received it? But he understood nightmares, and sometimes he’d wished someone had comforted him.

He saw you lying on the bed as he opened the door, you were crying, the white lights of your skinny “Charlie Brown’ Dollar Store Christmas tree illuminating your tear stricken face.

Snow was picking up outside as he climbed in next to you as you heaved. “Can’t breathe.” Your body wracked with shivers.

“Don’t let him do that to you. Don’t let him win.” Billy said roughly, gripping your hip and pulling you closer. You smelled like clementines, like summer.

Your eyes fluttered, clutching Billy’s hoodie. “Can I come closer?” You asked, breathlessly.

Billy wiped your tears away tenderly, “Yeah, mouse.” He husked.

And so you did, pressing yourself into his side. “I dreamt of my uncle.”

Billy watched the snow fall, it seemed Jack Frost had visited early, “I know.”

You shivered, tangling your legs with his, pressing a kiss to his throat. “I thought I was gonna die. But then I heard your voice.”

“I gotta ka-bar with his name on it.” Billy said hotly into your hair.

“He’s a drunkard. He’s not worth it. He’s an old man who never dealt with his childhood. He’s hurting, too.” You said, quietly. He would never understand your compassion for those who’d hurt you.

“I don’t give a fuck, he hurt you so he’s on my shit list.” He shivered as your cold fingers slid up his hoodie, fingers playing with the hair there at his belly button.

“Oh, Billy. You’re trying.” You said, pressing your fingers harder into his skin.

He didn’t know what to say to comfort you. “I like your hair, it shines in your Christmas lights.” He mumbled, pressing his chin to your head.

You laughed understandingly, and said; “I like the frosting on your hoodie.

He huffed, heart skipping a beat. The wind beat against the window, and he took his finger and wiped the frosting off and pressed his finger to your lips.

Your mouth parting, tasting the sweetness of the sugar, and the bitterness of his finger. His eyes looked pitch black watching you, the way the curve of your breasts pressed against him.

“Good girl.” He husked, watching you.

And the feeling of warmth and safety soon replaced the fear of a monster.

[sseniita]

father, like daughter

“You’re joking!” The Villain’s daughter said, dangerously holding whatever new monstrous invention she had tinkered up. “That’s Bullshit!” 

The Villain held up two fingers. “That’s two months now, young lady! And I'm taking away your power drill!” The Villain’s daughter turned red with anger as she faced the Hero standing on the other side of kitchen island. 

“Tell him it’s not fair!” She shouted, prompting the Villain to turn towards Hero as well. Hero had come by only to pick up some documents she needed from Villain, she hadn’t expected to play jury.

“Uh. Well- Villain. Maybe you're being too harsh-” Her train of thought derailed at the sight of Villain’s glare only comparable to his daughter’s. “Um…” She quickly put up two fists on her hips and raised her chin. 

“Listen to your father.” Satisfied, the Villain turned to his daughter. 

“Starting an underground weapon market?! What were you thinking? What if you got hurt!? Do you have any idea how traceable PAYPAL is?!” 

“I started doing cash only!” 

“Yes! After Other Villain venmo-ed you 8K!” 

“Exactly! My business is booming! You’re just jealous I’m a better Villain than you.” The Villain chuckled sarcastically. 

“You have no idea what game you’re playing! I’ve been at this for years and never once did I let myself slip or be noticed!” 

“Ugh whatever! No Hero has caught me yet!” 

The Hero tensed- clearing her throat. Both Villain and mini Villain turned to her before quickly facing each other again. 

“I should have Hero arrest you right now!” 

“She would not! It’s been 10 years and she hasn’t even arrested you!” 

“I-” Hero tried to intervene. 

“Exactly! 10 years of seducing Hero and turning her completely complicit. Now that’s villany!” The Hero could only stutter out her beginning to a counterargument. 

“It took you 10 years to seduce her?! Is that really something to be proud of?” 

“Watch it, young lady!” 

“Ok fine! I’ll just seduce Sidekick then!” She pointed her weapon at Hero’s sidekick who had been enjoying the show, hand half into a tortilla chip bag on the Villain's couch. The Sidekick shot a pleading look at Hero, a look she could only shrug at. The Villain’s eyes narrowed. 

“Three months.” 

The Villain’s daughter groaned over exaggeratedly, threw her weapon on the kitchen island and stomped up to her room. 

“And you!” The Villain pointed to Hero’s sidekick. “Get any closer than 20 meters from her, I dare you.” The Sidekick quickly nodded, a deer in the headlights. 

“Yes sir. Of course sir.” Standing up straight. The Villain cringed. 

“Ugh. I can’t even see you right now. Get out.” The villain said, hand to his temple. The Sidekick skipped past the Hero, giving her a nervous smile Hero returned with a roll of her eyes. Before leaving out the door the Sidekick turned back. 

“Actually we had plans Friday night to-” 

“Out!” The Villain yelled, throwing a fork to the door. 

“Yes, of course, Mr. Villain. See ya later. Bye!” he rushed out almost as fast of his words did from his mouth leaving only Hero and Villain amidst the slam of the door. After a sigh left his mouth the Villain finally relaxed and Hero had the courage to get closer, leaning on the counter. 

“Teenagers, right?” she chuckled. The Villains only huffed. 

“Sorry for screaming at your sidekick.”

“He knows you don’t mean harm. Besides, I’m the one who drove here so it's not like he can go anywhere.” She joked, earning a chuckle from the Villain.

“You know what the worst part is?” The Villain softened. 

“Hmm?” The Hero answered. 

“Before I was angry- I was really, really impressed. Maybe even proud!” He gestured towards the weapon on the kitchen island.

"A bubble trap gun? Why hadn't I ever thought of it?" The Villain seemed genuinely intrigued as he picked it up to analyze. "This is amazing craftsmanship."

The Hero was shocked for a second before remembering who she was talking to and laughed. Villain only let out another chuckle and sighed as the Hero calmed down. 

“If you do let him anywhere near her-” 

“Isn’t that what my Mentor said to Supervillain?” Hero teased.

“That’s different. I didn’t seduce you to get back at my father.” The hero only smiled and leaned against him. 

“Don’t worry. If genetics are anything to account for, they'll be 27 before your daughter wins my sidekick’s heart.” 

[141goblin]

Soft: Chapter Four.

—> Chapter three

CW: Slightly suggestive. Hangover.

A/N: I posted the wrong chapter by accident🤦🏼‍♀️my bad. This chapter is a little short but I promise, it’ll get juicy soon :3

I wake up the next morning to find Amelia already gone and a little note laying on my bedside table, scrawled in her writing.

“Early shift at work, gotta go. Love you x”

The second I make any attempt to sit up out of bed, my head begins pounding, a cruel reminder of the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Yet another stupid decision that’ll make me waste another day lazing around and not doing anything productive. I somehow manage to stumble out of bed and into my bathroom. Because i’m an idiot, I slept in my makeup, breaking one of the most important rules I ever set for myself; never ever sleep in makeup. Crumbs of mascara descend down my dehydrated cheeks, lipstick clinging to the dry parts of my lips.

I wash away the remnants, praying that a bit of cold water and soap will help me to feel a bit more like a human being, rather than a zombie. It does, but not by much. The next thing on my list is to eat something, a proper meal, rather than just bits and pieces of random things laying around my cupboards. I usually opt for what known as ‘girl dinner’, a random assortment of little snacks. My go-to has been pickles with some tortilla chips, and apple slices with peanut butter. Instead of my usual ‘girl dinner’, I make myself a small bowl of pasta with some leftover sauce I have. Carbs will soak up the alcohol, I think.

Once I have something substantial in my stomach, the hangover is slowly starting to fade. It’s still there, but it’s gone from unbearable to just unpleasant. My head still hurts, but the spinning has subsided, luckily. I open my curtains and the windows, letting in some air to rid the smell of wine and takeaway food from my flat. It doesn’t take me long to clear up, putting the empty bottles and packages into the bin and the dirty clothes into the laundry. Now, my flat actually looks somewhat homely, rather than a biohazard. Look at me go, I think.

It’s well into the day, almost 3pm when I decide to reward myself with some well-earned phone time of scrolling on the same three apps for longer than i’d like to. I get into position on the couch, legs sprawled out and open tik-tok, scrolling endlessly on silly videos of cats that warm my heart and stupid memes. I make a mental note to look into getting a cat after I’ve learned to take care of myself. Id love a cat right now, but the poor thing wouldn’t last long. I can’t even look after myself most of the time, let alone another living thing.

The ‘ding’ of the washing machine interrupts my phone time and forces me to get my arse up and finish my chores. I drag the wet clothes out and carry them over to the dryer, turning it on and letting it run. After that, I scoop up the warm, dry clothes off the floor and carry them into my bedroom to fold and put away, like the responsible, functioning adult i’m pretending to be. I’m stopped in my tracks when I plop down on my bed and see a suit jacket hanging up on the drawer of my dresser.

Price’s jacket. Shit, his text.

The laundry gets completely forgotten and I pull up his message from last night.

Unknown: Lovely seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

My brain begins spinning again as I try to formulate some sort of answer that will make me seem like a normal human being. It takes me a good few minutes of typing and then deleting, but I get there in the end.

Me: I apologise for my rant, I was a bit of a mess. Let me know when you’re free and we can arrange getting your jacket back to you. P.s. the party wasn’t that bad.

I hit send on the message and eagerly await his response, like a teenager with a crush. Fucking stupid, I think. The first time a man has shown me attention in a few weeks and here I am, waiting with baited breath for him to-

Unknown: I told you, dove, no apologies. There’s fire in you, I like that. And as for the jacket, there’s no rush. Hope your head isn’t too sore today. -JP

I giggle like a schoolgirl as soon as I read his text. My brain is screaming because the handsome man with the broad shoulders is texting me, but I take a deep breath to calm the giddiness. He hasn’t exactly left it open-ended so I decide not to reply and wait for him to text next, not wanting to get too ahead of myself, only to be let down because I jumped to conclusions.

I finish the rest of my chores, his texts pinging in my brain. I start to imagine what it’d sound like in his voice as i’m doing the dishes from tonight’s dinner. I imagine his deep, rumbly voice, the voice that makes my fucking bones tingle and brain shake in my skull. I imagine pressing my face against his neck as he talks, feeling the vibrations against my lips. I imagine his voice calling me that stupid nickname, ‘Dove’. I’ve never been called that before, by anyone else, but it’s fast becoming my favourite nickname. It’s better than ‘hot tits’, anyway, the name my ex-boyfriend used to call me when he’d try to be smooth. When I think about it, my ex is nothing compared to Price. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally attractive, but he doesn’t have the same attitude he does. He doesn’t exude masculinity and confidence the way he does.

For fuck sake, I’ve only met the man once and here I am fantasising about him while I pretend to watch yet another rerun of gilmore girls, my attention on him rather than the screen.

I know i’m getting ahead of myself, getting too excited, but I can’t bring myself to care. For the first time in a long time, I let myself indulge in the thoughts and fantasies about the handsome man i’ve only met once. The thoughts continue well into the night, from when I curl up on the couch, to when I settle into bed, hand between my thighs and mind full of his voice. My sticky skin shines with sweat and my moans echo off the walls of my bedroom. I’d normally worry about being heard by the neighbours, but my mind is too full of Price to give a shit.

tags: @izziyuwh @a66-1 @jenniferpendragon @girl-of-multi-fandoms

[ereardon]

My Girl [Chapter 15][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 2.8K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, angst

Series masterlist here

Jake got to the studio thirty minutes early to make sure he could get a front row seat. He wanted Ellie to see him front and center when she was on stage. He wanted her to know that she had him in the crowd, no matter what. That he would always be there supporting her.

He wanted to be enough. 

It all started two weeks earlier. Bradley, Phoenix and Bob had plans to go with Jake to Ellie’s dance recital but then they had gotten called up to a mission that overlapped directly with the recital. 

“I’m sorry we can’t make it to your recital, Princess,” Bob said, squatting down next to Ellie where she sat on the couch. “Wish we could be there.” 

“It’s OK Uncle Bobby!” Jake felt small tears prick his eyes and he turned away, feigning a cough. Phoenix shot him a look from where she sat next to Ellie on the couch, one full of knowing and pain. 

“Can we get a sneak peak?” Bradley asked, ruffling Ellie’s hair from behind the couch and she laughed. “Show us what we’re missing, honey.” 

Ellie hopped up off of the couch and started to twirl around on bare feet in the living room. Behind her, Bradley, Bob and Phoenix watched with rapt attention and Jake stepped forward at one point, hand out, and Ellie took it, using him as a stable point to cling to as she twirled in circles. 

The trio on the couch erupted into cheers and applause as Ellie smiled in Jake’s arms. When he set her down, she looked up at him softly. “Will you be there, Daddy?” 

“Of course, peanut,” he said gently. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“Is Nat still coming?” Ellie asked and Jake’s face fell. Ellie’s dance class had been planning its annual recital for months, and he had originally planned to go with Natalie. Ellie had been ecstatic, rambling on about her sparkly costume to Natalie, who always listened with careful and wholehearted attention. 

Jake shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, baby.” Ellie’s smile turned into a quick frown. “But I’ll be there. And I promise we can go out for ice cream afterward.” 

She gave him a small grin. “With sprinkles?”

Jake nodded, catching Bradley’s eye as he gave him a sad smile. “Anything you want, honey.” 

***

“Are you liking New York any better?” Peter popped a chip into his mouth and then offered you the bag. You reached one manicured hand in and emerged with a few tortilla chips, dropping them into a small pile near your laptop.

“Eh, it’s fine,” you replied and he laughed. 

“There’s eight million New Yorkers out there waiting to fight you for that statement.” 

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. Peter had quickly become the person you trusted the most on the New York team, and therefore the only person you roped into late nights at the office. But it was nice not having to do the late nights alone. And having Peter around cut down on the paperwork exponentially. “It’s just overrated, let’s say that.” 

“I’m hurt,” he said, one hand over his heart and the giant Patagonia logo on his grey vest. 

“You’re from fucking New Canaan,” you retorted and he laughed loudly. 

“Busted.”

You leaned forward, grabbing a folder, your hand accidentally skimming Peter’s. You pulled back immediately, but he was a bit slower to react. 

“Hey, you never told me what happened with Jake,” he said softly. 

That had been five weeks ago. While you trusted and liked Peter, you were a strong believer in keeping state and church separate for the most part. He didn’t need to know the gory details about your personal life, and vice versa. But the truth was, while you were in New York, he was the closest thing you had to a friend. Cassie was likely asleep, it was well past her bedtime, and she had already given you all the advice she could on the situation. It was in your hands now. 

“Sorry, not to pry.” 

You shook your head. “It’s OK. Um, we broke up.” 

There was a pause. Peter’s blue eyes searched yours. “Shit, that sucks, I’m sorry.” 

You drew in a shaky breath. Even weeks later you still felt the pain like it was fresh every time Jake crossed your mind, which was constantly. “It’s OK. I mean it isn’t, but that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?” 

“You’re supposed to say whatever you actually feel,” he said and you looked up in surprise. “What, I can’t say profound shit?” 

You laughed. “You can, it just doesn’t do well for your street cred.” 

“My street cred was ruined the night my bodega guy saw me crying over a girl ghosting me on Bumble,” Peter said and you winced, causing him to chuckle. “Cringe, I know.” 

“Just a little.” 

Peter leaned back in his rolling chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. “So why did you and the pilot call it quits?”

You sighed. “I thought about what you said, about asking myself what I wanted. And the truth is, I want Jake to be happy. And I just know that I can’t make him happy. Not right now at least. And he deserves better than someone who strings him along, always saying it’ll get better or it’ll be the right time soon. My ex was like that and I stupidly believed him. I didn’t want to drag Jake through the mud in the same way that Sam did to me.” 

“But you still love him?” 

“It’s complicated.” You pushed down on your laptop, closing it softly. 

“But it’s over?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It is.” 

Peter nodded and then looked out at the stack of paperwork that had dwindled significantly since you two had entered the conference room hours before. “Looks like it’s time for us to pack up. I’ll walk with you downstairs? It’s late, don’t want you heading back alone on the street at this time.”

He waited by the elevator bank as you packed up your YSL tote bag at your desk. It hurt every time you saw it, but Ellie’s drawing from the day she had come to the office with you still hung near your monitor. It was a marker drawing of the day the three of you had gone to the zoo. You looked away before it made you cry. 

Downstairs, Peter held open the glass door and the two of you said goodnight in tandem to the doorman. He gave a wave, and the warm June air pulled you into an embrace on Broad Street. 

“I’m this way,” you said, hooking a finger over your shoulder and pointing uptown. 

“Let me walk you.” 

You shook your head. “That’s OK, it’s just two blocks.” 

“Please?” he said and you smiled. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone this late downtown.”

“OK.” The two of you set out at a slow pace North on Broad Street. You and Peter had stayed late in the office a handful of times in the past, and he had never once insisted on walking you to your hotel. 

Once the bright lights of the hotel were in sight, you looked up at Peter. He was tall, and his face was set in a pensive frown. “This is me,” you said, stopping under the awning near the marble stairs. The lobby was lit up, glowing from the inside, but empty. You snuck a peek at your watch — it was almost two in the morning. “Thanks for walking me. Want me to wait while you get an Uber?” You knew for a fact that Peter lived in the West Village, which had a shit option for trains from FiDi. 

He shook his head, stepping in closer. Before you knew it, Peter’s hand was on your neck, his face closing in on yours, his lips grazing your own. 

Peter was a good kisser: soft and gentle. No tongue off the bat. His hand was warm on your neck, his fingers gentle where they pressed against your skin. 

But when he pulled back, he saw tears welling up in your eyes. 

Kissing Peter only served to show you what you had lost with Jake. That even something that five years ago would have been a whirlwind kiss was now reduced to mediocre. Everything paled in comparison to the way it was with Jake. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand. “I just thought … Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You reached up and wiped away your tears and then dropped your hands and pulled Peter’s into your own. “Hey, it’s OK. I’m sorry, too. I hope I wasn’t giving you any wrong signals. It’s just, I’m not over him.” 

Peter shook his head. “No, I know that. Fuck, I thought, I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry, Natalie.” 

You gave him a small smile. “Don’t be. You actually made me just realize something.”

Peter gave you a questioning look and you simply leaned forward, kissing his cheek, before disappearing into the hotel lobby. 

You had a flight to catch.

***

“And next up we have Mrs. Bell’s class!” 

Cheers erupted from the crowd and Jake grinned as Ellie’s dance class made their way on stage. Ellie was third from the left, slightly off-center, and she smiled widely when she spotted Jake in the front row. He gave her a tiny wave and a grin as the music started up. 

Out of the fourteen girls in the class, it was obvious Mrs. Bell had put the ones who understood the routine in the front. In the back row, three of the girls flailed their way through the song, all arms and legs, no rhythm. Jake had to stifle down a few laughs along the way, but Ellie did excellent. 

Halfway through the routine, Jake watched Ellie break character, her smile growing wider, one hand risen in a tiny wave. Her eyes were glued to the back of the studio, and he turned around in his seat to see what she could possibly be waving at. 

Perhaps the better question would be who was she waving at. 

Jake’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest. His breath quickened, his pulse was sky high, his hands started to sweat. Anyone looking at him would have thought he had seen a ghost.

You were standing near the closed doors, a wide smile on your face, wearing a white linen dress that flowed to your ankles, blonde hair down and curled, your eyes locked on Ellie. You gave her a small wave back before darting into one of the rows in the back and sitting down for the rest of the performance. 

Jake couldn’t concentrate, but he forced himself to stand and clap once Ellie’s class finished their dance. He had to hold himself together enough not to turn around and look for you in the back. Not to sprint down the aisle and search through every folding chair until he found yours. 

Instead, Jake faced forward, his mind spinning as he watched the other classes routines, counting down the seconds until the lights went up and he could find you in the crowd. 

Finally, the lights came off dim and Jake shot up in his seat, one of the first to stand. But once he turned around, everyone else was standing, too, blocking his view of the back row. He sighed and made his way out to the hallway, looking for Ellie. He spotted Mrs. Bell first, with her bright red hair, and watched as she opened a side door, all of the little girls in their tiny tutus spilling out into the hallway. Jake recognized Ellie’s blonde curls immediately, making his way toward her. 

“Daddy!” She flung her arms around his neck where he knelt down to hug her, and Jake wrapped his daughter in his arms. 

“You did so great, Princess!” he murmured, pulling back from the embrace and smoothing a hand over her hair. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Ellie practically vibrated she was so elated. “Daddy, I saw Natalie! She was by the door.” 

Until the words left her mouth, Jake had wondered if he had imagined you. How ethereal and beautiful you had looked, standing there. A part of him had almost been able to fool himself into thinking that you were simply a mirage, a daydream. 

Until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“Nat!” Ellie jumped up and down and Jake watched as you bent over, sweeping her into your arms, matching grins on both of your faces. 

“Hi peanut,” you said softly. “You did amazing!” 

“You came!” Ellie was practically shouting and you laughed. 

“Of course I did,” you said. “I promised, didn’t I?” 

She nodded frantically then looked at Jake. “Yes, but Daddy said you might not come.”

Jake’s heart did somersaults in his chest as you raised your eyes to his finally. “Well, I’m here now, pumpkin. And I’m really glad I came. You did great.” 

You placed Ellie back on the ground and looked up at Jake. “Hi Jake,” you said quietly, leaning over and pressing your lips to his cheek. Barely grazing his skin, but his fingers reached out automatically and breezed over your waist. 

As you pulled away, Jake’s hope sank a little further. It took everything in his power not to reach out and pull you to his chest, plant his lips on yours, let his hands roam the expanse of your back. He was desperate to feel you beneath his fingertips again. Remember what it was like to hold you and kiss you and know that you were his. 

You no longer belonged to him, and he knew it. 

There was a beautiful sadness that had enveloped you. It had been six weeks since the fight. Almost three months since you left for New York the first time. And Jake still longed for you every waking minute of his days. Seeing you there, standing next to Ellie, her small hand enveloped in yours, was too much of a reminder of what he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you had come back like you said you would. That you had even remembered. 

He didn’t realize that you were the kind of person who would always keep a promise, no matter what. 

“Did you see my twirl?” Ellie asked you excitedly and you nodded sweetly. 

“I did, peanut. You were great. Do you want to keep dancing? Maybe try tap?”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Jake groaned and you chuckled. The sound of your laughter was a thousand rainbows raining down on his ears.  

“Sorry,” you whispered. There was a moment of silence while you looked at Jake and he gazed back. Those seconds told you everything you needed to know. He still loved you. And you knew that you still loved him. But did he know it?

Jake broke the silence by clearing his throat, Ellie’s hand warm in your own. “I promised Ellie I would take her to get some ice cream,” Jake said quietly. “Um, would you like to join us?” 

“That sounds lovely, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” Your eyes met Jake’s and there was nothing there but a flood of sadness. An overwhelming sadness that threatened to bury him. An avalanche of emotion. 

You squatted down and rested your hands on Ellie’s small arms. 

“Have a good time, sweetie. I’ll see you soon, OK?” 

Ellie looked up with hopeful eyes and nodded silently, her curls bouncing. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before standing, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder and turning to Jake. Jake looked at you with the same matching hopeful eyes as his daughter, but with another dash of something. 

Remorse. 

To his surprise, you stepped forward and wound your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Jake pulled you in tightly, his arms binding you to him for a second, trying desperately to memorize how you felt pressed against him, before you leaned back, dropping your arms from his neck, a miserable look tattooed on your face. 

“Bye, Jake,” you whispered and his mind flitted back to that night six weeks before when you had said the same thing as you reversed out of the driveway, tears flooding your eyes. 

Jake held Ellie’s hand as he watched you walk out into the parking lot and be enveloped by the setting sun until the skyline was so bright he couldn’t make out your figure anymore, his vision bleached in shades of orange and red, until he couldn’t see or hear anything, the only thing keeping him grounded was the soft feeling of Ellie’s tiny hand in his, tugging him along, pulling him ahead, giving him purpose. 

***

The sound of your heels clacking on the shiny floor sounded like gunshots. 

Every step you took should have elevated your heart rate, but it didn’t. You felt like a marathon runner, despite never having run more than a mile at a time in your life. You felt unstoppable in a weird way. 

Determination was like that. So was resignation. 

Through the glass wall — why were all the fucking walls glass in this place, you wondered — you could see Patrick sipping a drink by the window, his back to you. 

He turned around with the sound of the door slamming shut. 

“Natalie?” His voice was thin and surprised. “I thought you were in New York until the twentieth.” 

“Came back early,” you said. 

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “On whose authority?” 

“Mine.” 

He let out a sharp laugh. “And who says you have the authority?” 

You smiled. “I did, when I quit.” 

“What?” He was incredulous.

“I quit, Patrick,” you said, leaning forward and pressing your hands to the enormous wooden desk, eyes hardened and locked on his watery ones. “I’m not going to be a pawn in some sick game you’re playing that hinges on bigotry. Finance used to be an Old Boy’s Club and we all knew it, but things are changing. Someday, and I hope it’s soon, you’re going to have to fess up and realize that this is no longer the workplace you started in. You’re going to get what’s coming, Patrick. Maybe I’m just the first woman to stand up to you and say it.” 

His eyes shifted around in anger or fear, you couldn’t decipher which. 

“I took a job with Parker Lane.” They were the firm’s largest competitor. “And I told them all about you and your non-questions about my future and family life and they found it very interesting.” 

Now you knew what you saw in his eyes. Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. Patrick sunk down into the plush leather chair behind his desk, almost sputtering in anger.

“I’ll see you around, Patrick,” you said, lifting off of the desk and turning toward the door. “Oh, and Patrick?” Your hand was on the doorknob as you turned around to look at him. He was seething. “I did some digging and it turns out I’m not the first person you’ve made veiled threats to about employment matters. Expect some paperwork on your desk from Chairman Bill for that on Monday. I wouldn’t get too comfortable in that chair. Might not be yours for too long.” 

The hallway had never looked so wide, so free, so thrilling as it did on your way out. 

You got in your car and hit ignore on the GPS when it asked what route you’d like to take home. 

You knew exactly where you were going. 

A/N: Patrick can suck it! Also there is hope on the horizon for these two 🥰 And shoutout to @blue-aconite for the recital idea from a very sad, but sweet Jake x Natalie dream xx

Tag list: @sandyys-posts @purplevortexx @rosie-posie08 @cactajuice @emorychase @absolute-fcking-chaos

@double-j @seresinhangmanjake @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @taytaylala12 @mandylove1000 @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @starrynightskyz @daddymack01 @buxkybarnez @pookie-cleary @clairedelarosa-blog  @princessofglitterland  @tiredqueen73 @lovingjakeseresin @lilyevanswhore @kurtkunkle17 @amortentiadrops @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @ebonyhogan24 @rosewritesitout @sammysimpin @khaylin27 @localhockeygirl @eyesthatroll @wildxwidow @wildlyobserving @bellaireland1981 @wittywhispers-blog @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @oiseul @showmethewayhomehoney @callsign-joyride @teacupsandtopgun @jordanturpen @sexytholland @daddymack01 @pookie-cleary @eternalsams @djs8891 @blairfox04 @morgannchase @absolute-fcking-chaos @darkestbeforethedawn16 

@books-thingys-andstuff @callsign-hollywood @louie-bug @lemur46 @dempy @maddievevo @callsign-joyride @buxkybarnez @arson-tm 

[look-at-the-soul]

Look at the soul - Part 11 Green eyes

Cillian Murphy x OC

Series master list

We’ve always heard eyes are a window to the soul, what would Cillian find in Marianne’s?

Word count: 3,460

Song: Green eyes by Coldplay

Cillian rolled the script in his hands as his eyes crossed the stage and he found the cast getting ready to leave as they finished the rehearsal. Marianne waved at Jason, he played the role of the barman.

“Ready?” Lee approached her.

“I really need that margarita tonight.” Marianne groaned, rolling her neck to ease the tension from her shoulders.

“And all I can think of is having those tacos already.” Lee chuckled.

“Tacos?” Cillian’s voice interrupted them, he was a few steps behind.

Both girls turned around to look at him, they had the same expression of a kid who was just caught up with the hand inside of a cookie jar.

“You’re having tacos and didn’t invite me?” He asked placing one of his hands over his chest, pretending to be hurt.

“You can come if you want.” Marianne replied.

“Thought you had already left.” Enda joined them a moment later, Heidi following him.

“They’re having tacos without us.” Cillian raised his eyebrows.

“Are you serious?” Enda gave them a accusation look.

“It’s not like that.” Marianne tried mortified.

Cillian leaned his elbow on his friend’s shoulder. “So what are you doing tonight?”

“Eating tacos of course.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Me too.” Cillian agreed with a huge grin leading the way towards the parking lot. “I’m starving.”

The girls shared a look, unsure of how the night would unfold, they were so used to their dynamic now.

“Can you hurry up?” Enda called impatient.

“Let’s go!” Cillian shouted with excitement.

***

“Hmmm this is heaven.” Enda admitted before getting more chips and dip. “I’m still mad that you left us out of this.” He then pointed at the amazing food at the table.

“I told you it was a girls night out originally.” Heidi rolled her eyes.

“We don’t have to dress up as women right?” Enda joked mimicking a girly pose.

“You’re always looking for any excuse man.” Cillian retorted making the girls laugh. “I’m going to tell your wife to hide her heels.”

“Alright, tacos are ready.” Marianne announced placing the tray in the middle of the table. “And you’re more than welcome to join us every week.”

“Shall we declare tacos night inaugurated?” Cillian rubbed his hands together.

“I’m never skipping a tacos night.” Enda announced solemnly taking a bite. “Oh fuck! This is so good.” He shouted.

“I want one of each.” Lee added passing her plate to the opposite side.

“And you haven’t tried her chicken with chipotle yet.” Cillian shook his head, the mere memory was mouthwatering.

Lee looked from Cillian to Marianne suspiciously, wondering how close those two had been getting lately, sneaking backstage before rehearsals to the point of him tasting one of her recipes. She added a mental note to ask her later about that.

But her friend was oblivious to Lee’s stare as she got busy with the tortillas.

“This is fun, we really need to keep it going.” Heidi proposed as she got a text message. “My husband wants some tacos but I don’t think there’ll be anything left, and I don’t have the heart to tell him.”

“No no, tacos are just meant to be eaten here not to take out.” Enda held the tray with both hands apprehensively.

“Just tell him you ordered pizzas tonight.” Cillian encouraged.

“Woah. The salsa is spicy.” Lee pointed waving her hand in front of her mouth, grabbing her glass to wash down the burning sensation in her throat.

“Last time you told me it wasn’t, so I added more this time.” Marianne explained.

“So tell me how did this start.” Enda asked getting a second round of food.

“I was craving some Mexican one day and then I showed Lee some pictures, so I found a little market that has a lot of Mexican stuff and just like that we asked Heidi if she wanted to join us for dinner, Michelle and Isa have been sometimes too.”

“Well thank you for the invitation.” Enda teased.

Cillian chuckled. “He’s never letting that one go, trust me I’ve known him for so long.”

“You said tacos and margaritas, so where’s my drink?” Enda adjusted the glasses on his nose.

“Go easy with the tequila or you’ll start living la vida loca.” Heidi suggested in a very clear Spanish.

Enda and Cillian’s laugh filled the place.

“What happened with Layla?” Heidi asked before taking another bite of her food.

Marianne shuddered. “Think she was in a bad mood or something, because she pushed me so rough.”

“I was thinking of stepping in, but didn’t want to interfere in the rehearsal.” Heidi admitted.

“Who’s she?” Enda interjected. “Should’ve picked a blonde, a brunette and a redhead to play the prostitutes, they’ll look the same.” He admitted laughing.

“When did that happen?” Cillian’s brows knitted.

“From the beginning, I swore she left you a mark.” Lee pointed out. “She’s been acting weird towards you since forever.”

“Please elaborate.” Enda leaned on the table.

Lee threw a quick glance in Marianne’s direction.

“After she joined the play, she wanted to introduce herself to Cillian but he was on the phone in my dressing room so I told her, very politely that he was busy at that moment and she took it badly.”

“No but tell them about the day I heard her mocking your accent.” Lee lost it, she had kept it to herself for so long.

Enda gave Heidi a knowing look, worried about how it would unfold.

“If I had learned this earlier I wouldn’t let her be part of this, unfortunately the opening is around the corner.”

Heidi nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I mean I’m aware of my accent, I’m the first one to laugh when I make a mistake, but it’s obvious she has a problem with me.”

“You’ll never please everyone.” Cillian stated crossing his leg. “Don’t take a single comment from a person you wouldn’t ask for advice.”

And as he said that, they all raised their glasses.

“Need some help?” Cillian asked Marianne as she was busy with the tortillas.

But she shook her head and turned them around just using her hand, as if the pan wasn’t hot.

“You’re going to burn yourself.”

“Yeah?” Marianne smiled placing her hand on top of one again t show Cillian nothing happened.

“So you like playing with fire huh?” He tilted his head, fixing his eyes on her. “You should know then, people who plays with fire, usually gets burn.” He flirted.

The way he dragged his words and the velvety tone of his voice made it sound as if he was giving her warning with a double meaning. Leaving Marianne speechless, her mind in blank, unable to answer anything.

Where did that came from?

Heidi walked between them to get another one, oblivious to what was happening. “Would it be weird if I mix all the fillings in one taco?”

When Marianne looked again at Cillian the atmosphere had changed, he was now texting someone. So she decided that perhaps it had just been a game from her imagination.

“A little, but who are we to judge you?” Lee encouraged.

In a matter of seconds, the kitchen got silent again as they all focused on their food and drinks.

***

Turning around, Marianne found Cillian a few meters away with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed as he laughed at something Enda said.

Staring at him from afar she took in of his curls and the way he seemed so engaged in the conversation unfolding. A head tilt and then she saw him rubbing his fingertips against his lips.

And as if it was some kind of revelation…

How could he, as the narrator of the story know a lot of things about Adria? This man had to have some kind of deep bond with her.

“Wait! Enda! Cill!” She shouted as they were heading out.

Marianne was running out of breath as she reached them, giving them an excited look.

“You’ve to hear this…” her eyes sparkled in excitement. “I finally realized what you think it’s been missing from the play.” Marianne explained, Enda had been struggling the last couple of days because he kept insisting something was missing from the story but he couldn’t figure out what.

“Well, tell me!”

“The narrator,” she looked up at Cillian and back to Enda, “how could this man know Adria’s story so well? He can’t be just a narrator, there has to be something else… a connection.”

“I’m not following.” Enda admitted frowning.

“We all know how life has been complicated towards Adria, the tough situation with her brother taking everything she owns and blocking her from getting a job and all, we’ve seen her how it is for her to accept the gifts those men give her thinking that will grant them her heart and she uses the money to survive… but we barely know a thing or two about her real feelings, there has to be someone she loved once and-”

Cillian couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he caught up with her idea, it was brilliant.

“Her heart is a mystery until we reveal a small glimpse.” He added staring at Enda.

“I need a drink,” this was mindblowing, it had always been under his nose and he had been so blind. “Shall we go to a pub and talk this through?”

“Yes!” Marianne have them a wide smile, her cheeks blushing.

“C’mon there’s one two blocks away.” Enda wrapped his hand around Marianne’s shoulder to guide her out of the parking lot. “You know this changes a lot of things right?”

Marianne nodded realizing the impact it would have in the rehearsals.

“Remember I’ve a trip tomorrow, but send the changes to my email.” Cillian pointed at Enda. “I just hope my dog won’t make a mess in the house.”

“Are your kids staying with your parents?”

“Yeah but I can’t have them taking care of Scout too.”

Marianne looked at him in silence for an instant.

“I can puppysit.”

Cillian stopped walking, surprised by her proposal.

“Really, I mean I love dogs and these days I’m taking classes online I’m only busy with the rehearsals.”

“He’s a beast.”

“Oh c’mon, bet he behaves better than most people.” Marianne dismissed his statement.

“Are you sure?”

“Just say thank you, stop asking her the same.” Interjected Enda.

Cillian laughed relieved and thankful for the help, he then explained her he’d bring his dog first thing in the morning with all the things she might need, it would still be a short stay though, just for two days while he traveled to London for something work related.

As they walked on the empty street, Cillian closed the jacket over his chest, feeling a shiver running up and down his body.

“So how do we do this?”

“Well, ask that to the mastermind here, she got the idea.” Enda chuckled nudging Marianne with his elbow.

“I was thinking of maybe Adria finds a letter she kept in a box or a photograph perhaps of her lost love and that’s how you reveal that side of her to the audience, but then I thought as you already have the narrator element telling part of the story, Cillian could reveal that part you know, verbally while Adria is in the back staring at his picture.”

“My head is about to explode.” The screenplay writer admitted shocked by the insights Marianne was providing, but it was just one way to prove how connected she was with her character.

Cillian smiled proudly as they reached a booth in the corner, he had been for the last thirty minutes as he started to listen to Marianne’s ideas. This was the kind of thing he didn’t know she could do when he first saw her and it was a remarkable thing to admire from her.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Cillian gave his friend a long look. They were against time.

“Of course I’m going to need a ridiculous amount of caffeine through the night, but sure I can have this by tomorrow.” He took a sip of his pint, desperate to head home.

“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want you to feel like any pressure to add this.” Marianne doubted toying with the glass of rosé in front of her.

Enda leaned against the back of his seat. “I can’t tell you how much I love that you are so invested in this that you even start adding ideas, it’s so cathartic for me and a relief to know Adria is in the best hands. Here.” He took her face between his hands and planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

“Perhaps her brother had something to do with the fact that Adria split with- are we still naming him narrator?” He chuckled.

“Yes because I want every man in the room thinking it could be him.” Enda took a long sip of his drink and looking at his watch he gasped. “Shit I gotta go, or the wifey will be mad. But keep the brainstorming!”

“I’ve never seen him so obsessed with a play.” Cillian cleared his throat as he moved closer to Marianne.

Honey, you are a rock

Upon which I stand

“Had been thinking that instead of having you talking from the sound booth, you should be on stage narrating because well, the narrator knows everything about Adria first hand.”

“I like that.” His eyes sparkled under the dim light of the pub. “What else?”

“What about you being something like a bartender in the background first and then… boom the big revelation of who you are.”

Cillian nodded, imagining the scene.

And I come here to talk

I hope you understand

“The way I see it is someone with a bohemian kind of look.”

“So… what’s the main story of the bohemian at the bar?” Cillian asked pulling Marianne from her daydream.

He asked the waitress for a napkin and pen to write down the ideas. Marianne noticed the long looks and smilies the woman was giving him, asking over and over if he needed something else. Lee was right, everywhere they went, he got an endless queue of women fighting for his attention. Women offering in a tray without thinking while he was inside of his bubble. How could she compete with that? When he really had a catalog to choose from with endless possibilities; all kinds of beauty, hair color, nationalities…

It was impossible to not fall for that smile and the way he deeply engaged in whatever you were doing, he was hands down the most attentive person, always had something interesting to add, something funny to say. Cillian always added something that really helped you. But when he fixed his ocean eyes on hers, almost without blinking, it was as if he was opening all of the layers to see the deepest parts of her soul, and she ended up questioning everything.

“You can’t even begin to imagine how important this is, you got to the point to start thinking as your character, more importantly, you’re walking in her shoes.” Cillian praised pulling her back to reality.

He had a good feeling about this, about her idea, Enda had already trusted her in different matters and she ended up adding something really good.

And besides all of that, he loved to listen her talking about something that she felt really passionate about, loved the way her eyes lighted up and held a special sparkle.

The green eyes

Yeah, the spotlight

Shines upon you

“Has it happened to you? Getting ideas for your characters?”

Cillian thought her expressions were adorable. It was impossible to not feel like some kind of magnet was pulling him closer.

And how could

Anybody deny you?

“Yes, plenty of times because I let the character use my body as an instrument to project whatever it wants to the public,” he explained forcing himself to focus on something else other than her, “it’s like taking a step back and allowing them to take charge, huh?”

“I never thought about it until now, and it’s both scary and fascinating.” She rested her face on her hand, leaning closer to Cillian.

I came here with a load

And it feels so much lighter now I met you

Marianne was suddenly conscious of the small pout of his lips and the almost imperceptible nod he did.

“I’m in awe of the incredible feeling it is to be onstage,” she admitted placing a loose lock behind her ear.

Cillian felt like it was mouthwatering, everything, every little thing she did, it had an indescribable feeling in him.

The dim light, the little conversation they were having, the rest of the pub disappearing.

He had always been complimented by his eyes and he really didn’t paid attention to other people’s eyes, until now… he was only realizing of the kaleidoscopic shades that were part of Marianne’s green eyes. Of all kinds of shades and tones, a deep emerald adorning around the edge of the iris, a lighter shade mixing perfectly with an olive tone and small rays of gold as it got closer to the pupils.

And honey, you should know

That I could never go on without you

Green eyes

He found them fascinating and it felt contradictory to what he believed in, when someone started talking about his, he brushed the topic to the side and changed the conversation. Destroying any small chance that could allow his ego to grow. But when it came to hers, he realized this was the first time he noticed something like that.

They were so inviting and it was taking all of his willpower to resist the urge to get closer.

That green eyes

You're the one that I wanted to find

Her eyes seemed to change under different lights and he realized now it also depended of the color she was wearing. Now with a purple jumper made the fascinating color of her eyes pop and it was impossible not to get lost in the depths of that emerald treasure.

But what was truly fascinating was all of the things she could express through her eyes even when she wasn’t talking. Every emotion flashing through her eyes, she was so transparent, so genuine.

“Well… how could he not know everything about her? How could she ever forget about the most important person in her life?” She moved her hands in sync with her words. “How could someone become a stranger after seeing your soul?”

He wasn’t sure anymore if this was Marianne or Adria talking… or a mix of both.

And anyone who tried

To deny you must be out of their minds

Cillian leaned back as if he was hit in the gut and the air was taken away from him. Her words repeating over and over in his mind like a song. He had to admit he’d allow her to see his soul as many times as she wanted. She could walk over his back in heels if that made her happy. And that scared him, because of the magnitude it meant; it would mean to give her all of him, his deepest fears, his dreams, his secrets.

Feeling goosebumps all over his skin, Cillian couldn’t help but lean forward a little.

Marianne smiled shyly and looked down at her hands but quickly her gaze returned to Cillian who couldn’t disguise his attraction any longer.

One look and he could be at her feet.

Her breath got caught in her throat as she realized the atmosphere changed suddenly and Cillian was holding her gaze, alternating from her eyes to her lips.

Time stopped as their hearts were drumming inside their chests.

Cillian couldn’t help but wonder what her lips would taste.

There was a force pulling them closer, something neither of them could fight.

Their lips were about to meet midway. A tingle appeared from the anticipation, head tilting…

“Would you like another round?” The waitress interrupted them, breaking off their moment, she tapped her pen against her opposite arm.

Cillian straightened his back as he cleared his throat.

He gave Marianne a long look, noticing the small shook of her head he then thanked the waitress. The magic was gone.

In an instant the bubble burst.

She noticed the waitress had passed in front of them for the hundredth time and she only had eyes for Cillian, but as much as she tried to caught his attention, it didn’t work but she had definitely killed the mood. But she couldn’t blame her though, Cillian was attractive and he had this incredible vibe that made you look twice in his direction.

Perhaps they could talk now that they were out of the pub.

“Can I drive you home?” He offered hoping to continue where they just left, but just as he did, one of his sons called him to let him know they were as well on their way back home.

“It’s fine I’ll get an Uber.” Marianne waved him off so he wouldn’t be late for his sons. “Don’t forget to bring Scout over.” She tried to brush it off, but deep down she couldn’t help but think what would have happened if they weren’t interrupted.

****

Tag list: @lyarr24 @gypsy-girl-08 @cillmequick @zablife @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @kettlechips3 @heidimoreton @forbidden-forest-witch @kaitebugg03 @thenattitude @forgottenpeakywriter @onlydeadcells @babaohhhriley @lonelyweeb0044 @lovemissyhoneybee @ange-thoughts @already-broken144 @shelbydelrey @cutecurly-hair @winchestergirl22 @moral-terpitude @ironpen @elenavampire21 @lespendy @kittycatcait219 @stevie75 @esposadomd @sloanexx @shaddixlife @rangerelik @peakyscillian @woofgocows @cillianlove @imichelle-l-rigby @emmanuelle19 @sydneyyyya @cljordan-imperium @mrkdvidal1989 @flippittygibbitts @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @elk96 @shelundeadxxxx @kmc1989 @lau219

[peachyteabuck]

won’t you kiss me already? (fallon carrington x reader)

summary: after fallon finds out you’ve had a bad day at work, she’s determined to make it better

a commission for @devillskettle

pairing: fallon carrington x reader

words: 2124

content warnings: work-related anxiety, slight angst about said work, lots of fluff

Everything sucks. Everything really sucks.

You’re behind on deadlines because no one you work with can do their jobs properly. Everyone in the world seems to have your email and needs you to fix something. Your Internet is out at your apartment and you haven’t had hot water for a week. You spilled your coffee all over yourself this morning, making you late for a meeting with the VP (you always keep extra clothes in your office’s closet, but a button popped off on the first shirt you replaced, making it so you had to replace it once more). The same coffee was made wrong as well, the burnt taste souring your mood even further. Your laptop needs its battery replaced, and some random man tried to see an idea you’ve had for an advertising campaign for months.

Everything really, really sucks.

You’re just grateful to be home now, even if you can’t get any work done, and you can’t relax in a steaming hot bath while sipping red wine and reading a trashy romance novel. (You’ve still got the win and the bodice ripper, but it’s just not the same without the steamy bathroom and near-boiling water.)

Sitting alone in the quiet of your apartment eating from a giant bag of tortilla chips and a similarly large container of salsa that took five minutes to open is not how you imagined spending tonight. Still, it beats being at work.

Your poor mood becomes even worse when you hear a series of knocks at your front door—a sound that normally only ever brings your elderly neighbor asking for help with her ancient television or your downstairs neighbor asking you to not “be so loud” (despite you never moving furniture). On a normal day, you’d be willing to tell the sweet Italian woman that she just needs to turn the television on before changing the channel, or politely tell the douchey frat bro who you’re sure works for an unethical startup that if he’s hearing noises that aren’t there, he should take that up with his doctor and not you. But it hasn’t been a normal day, and you’re not in your normal mood.

Praying the person at your door will just leave, you remain face down on the couch with your feet dangling off the side. Hopefully, the person will just believe you aren’t home and will leave you in blessed silence.

Knock knock knock.

Of course, they don’t, though. Of course, this universe sees you struggling and goes “hey, want it to be worse?” without waiting for a response.

“I really don’t have time for this,” you grumble, speaking at a normal volume as you open the door. “Can you just-“

You stop in your tracks, frozen in place as you take in the sight in front of you.

It’s your girlfriend, clad in a signature well-cut pantsuit, with her giant work bag on one shoulder and both hands carrying a very large bag of what smells like takeout.

“A little bird told me you had a bad day,” she says, giving you a small, tentative smile as she steps into your apartment. “Was hoping I could make it better.”

You’re so happy to see her you legitimately could cry. And not one of those cute cries, where there are a few tears and you look like a newborn dear afterward. No, not an adorable little cry. Rather, one of those deep, guttural ones. The kind where snot runs down your chin and you scream so hard your throat hurts. The kind where sobs wrack your body and leave your muscles aching. The kind of cry that changes you, that represents a turning point in your life, where you emerge like a phoenix from the ashes of your old self.

Somehow, though, you manage to keep it all inside of you (and plan to let it all out when you’re finally able to take a steaming hot shower). You manage to give your lovely girlfriend a small smile, stepping to the side to let her in. Neither of you needs to say anything as she sits down on the couch next to your deeply sad dinner selection, rolling the top of the chip bag and closing the salsa before pushing them to the side to place the bags on your coffee table.

You, ever dutiful, follow her lead and curl up next to her on your old couch.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” she says, handing you a hot black plastic container with a clear lid. It’s hot in your hands, and for a moment you relish the warmth. You can feel it, somehow, in your chest, a pleasant heat simmering inside of you. Maybe that’s just what happens when Fallon is near, though.

“I just a lot,” you sigh, popping open the Tupperware-like container and letting the tantalizing smell waft into your nose. You’d spent most of the last few days eating cold leftovers—not of food you’d cooked yourself, but late-night deliveries that had gone cold as you attempted to finish work. “I haven’t had time to call a plumber and every time the Internet company schedules someone to come out. Work fucking sucks, and then I can’t come home and relax. It’s like, never-ending. Everything always sucks.”

“Hmm,” is all you hear before you begin shoveling forkfuls of noodles and chicken into your mouth. It’s good, so good, both because you’ve missed warm, freshly cooked meals, and because you’re sure this is from the expensive Thai place that’s on the other side of town.

It's out of your way, but, more importantly, it’s out of Fallon’s way. She works even more north than you do, having to cross the city just to get it. Thinking of her exerting herself like this is sweet in a way that makes your chipmunk cheeks blush.

Putting her phone down, Fallon empties the rest of the large, brown paper bag. In her hands emerges a white, semi-opaque bag smelling of a deliciously familiar scent.

“Crab Rangoon?” you ask, your mouth watering so much you can nearly feel yourself drool.

“Crab Rangoon,” she confirms, handing you the delicious morsels encased in waxy paper. “I just ask for one as girlfriend tax.”

Truly, you could cry from sheer joy and the love you have for her, and so of course, once you rip open the stapled bag, you have over the first one you see.

You then, of course, devour three of them in less time than it takes Fallon to properly mix up her pad Thai curry. Can she blame you, though?

Neither of you says anything for a while, and the quiet is therapeutic. Every day, all day, all there is at work is noise—the sounds of Teams, meetings, people chatting around your desk (did you mention you don’t even get a real office?), the clicking of keyboards and computer mice. Being able to sit in a soundless space comforts you more than anything, especially as Fallon’s leg presses against your own.

That is, until you hear knocks at the door again and roll your eyes.

“Is that how you reacted when you heard me knocking?” she asks with a snort, getting up before you have a chance to swallow your massive bite of pad Thai and meet the mystery person outside the door.

To be fair, you think to yourself as you struggle to clear your mouth. I probably would’ve been happier if I’d known it was you.

Fallon answers the door, and whoever is there is then just let into your apartment.

You don’t want to be rude, and Fallon seems to know who’s traversing his way into your apartment and why he’s got a giant box of tools, so you don’t say anything. But you still furrow your brow, to which Fallon pointedly ignores.

“Thanks for coming,” she leads the man through your kitchen and towards the back of your apartment. “Water heater is this way.”

When she returns, all you give her is a raised brow.

“That’s Greg,” she replies. As if that explains everything. “He’s the handyman we call at the office when the usual guy isn’t able to come in time.”

You nearly jump out of your chair, prepared to run and relieve this poor man of whatever duty your girlfriend bestowed upon him. “You made him come here?” you whisper-yell, pushing peanut pieces from your shirt. “Fallon, that guy probably has a wife and kids and shit. He doesn’t need to be here fixing my water heater!”

Fallon just smiles a little and stands up with you. “Babe, Greg is twenty-three and an art school dropout. I paid him like four times the usual amount for him to come. And he lives like five minutes away. Let him do this for you.”

You glare at her for just a second, trying to decipher the proud look on her face. “Fine, fine. Just-“ she squeals and gives you a kiss on your cheek, hugging you as you struggle to protect your precious dinner from the ground. “Just don’t let him fuck anything up too bad.”

“Don’t worry,” she waves her hand. “Greg’s great.”

You hope she’s right, given your snooty landlord. Fallon breaks your train of thought, though, as she speaks up once more.

“Also, uh…you don’t have to say yes-“

You brace for what she’s about to say—something you’ve heard a thousand times, but are still unsure of how to handle it.

“But I’m going to tell you again,” she pauses for a moment and waits for you to cut her off. You don’t. Neither of you attempts to meet each other’s eyes for fear “If you ever wanted to work a job at Carrington, or any company I ever own, just tell me and I’ll find an opening for you.”

“Thank you,” you finally manage. You don’t say anything else for what feels like an eternity, merely staring down at your half-finished food and letting the sounds of some random man tinkering with your water heater fill the air.

Minutes later, the man re-emerges, breaking the tender silence. When you meet his eyes, his face remains painted with the same, blank features.

Fallon, though, doesn’t miss a beat. “Router’s right behind you,” she says, gesturing with her chin. “Internet company has been blowing her off for days.”

He, still, doesn’t do anything to indicate he’s heard what your girlfriend said until he’s kneeling down to open the lower cabinet’s glass door and begins tinkering with the device. Again, awkward silence, as the nearly complete stranger hums to himself as he examines the issue.

“You’ve got a busted coax cable,” Greg says after what you feel is way too short a period of time, given how annoying the issue has been. His voice is much deeper than you expected. “Had an extra in my bag and replaced it. Should work fine now.”

Fallon’s “thanks” overlaps with your more enthusiastic “thank you so much!” as she gets up to pay him. You continue your silence, listening more than watching the interaction and subsequent “let me walk you out” despite the front door being just a few steps away.

“I think there are new episodes out of that bartending show you like,” she says when she returns, looking for the remote as she sits down. “Wanna watch?”

You nod, just grateful that you can connect to Netflix again. You also remember, as she sifts through your “currently watching” list, that Fallon does not like the bartending show very much. She called it “too flashy” once (a beautiful hypocrisy, coming from her), and doesn’t like one of the judges.

You know most of the world doesn’t see this version of Fallon. They get the version of Fallon she wants them to see—the mean, bitchy one who’d rather commit murder than be wrong or humiliated or underhanded. The Fallon who looks pristine and never has so much as a nail out of place. The Fallon who will buy out an entire company just because an executive laughed at her outfit. You’re sure this is the Fallon they want to see as well. Someone mean taking you down is one thing, but someone kind? That’s a whole other.

“What are you smiling about?” She meets your eyes for a few fleeting moments before looking back at the TV.

“Nothing in particular,” you say. You don’t want to make her uncomfortable, you know she’s a little insecure about how other people see her. That’s okay, though. You’re fine keeping this version of her to yourself. “Just that I love you.”

She smiles back, kissing you on your nose before readjusting on the couch. “Good, because I love you, too.”

[raspberrysmoon]

caitlyn, as in the bbq monologues actor/silly

But Actually, for the ask game, steph.

actually i want to do both, bc i have thoughts about caitlyn now

caitlyn is taking ruths death really hard. she lost her lights person, theater is much harder now. no other reason at all.

(she doesn't miss helping ruth get up the stairs to the light booth on bad days. she doesn't miss asking about the stickers on ruths wheelchair. she doesn't.)

she's also really connected to pokey. between her love of performance and her love of writing, theres no one better for her. unfortunately, this does mean she struggles with limited verbal abilities on some days, and has incredibly over sensitive hearing.

caitlyn does not miss her lightgirl. she does not think about her star, waiting in the wings forever. theres nothing that was ever between her and ruth. she'll never acknowledge the girls existence to anyone but trevor, and god.

now, steph!!!! my girl, and one of the three!!!!

steph's pretty messed up. uh. like really messed up

she's sort of like a lapdog to nibbly, now. she's played with like a doll. nibbly is a young girl with scissors, and steph is nothing but a barbie doll in his reach.

she's also the only person pete trusts enough to let see him even remotely naked anymore. he wears a long sleeve shirt and below the knee shorts around everyone else, if not more. she's the one who sits with him and brushes out the fur on his legs, kissing him along the way. theyre really in love

steph has!! teeth. so many teeth. she had sharkmouth as a kid, and had to get surgery when she was 7 to get the extras removed. she's trying to figure out how to get the extra teeth currently growing through the roof of her mouth removed, too. its not going well

she's got probably the worst flashbacks of the three. she's not sure why. it takes her hours to come down from the easiest panic attacks, and can take days for her to come down from the hardest. she cant eat, on those days.

speaking of eating, steph can't stand food anymore. she used to love cooking, love fiddling with recipes and making her own. she can't even eat a tortilla chip without needing more. more carbs, more protein, more meat. she didn't want to hurt those people, but its what she needs.

steph is really, really fucked up. she's losing weight like crazy, but she never stops eating. she's not able to go outside like she used to, she can't party. she can't watch most tv shows, or read most books. she's losing her mind, and with it, her life as well.

[atonalginger]

Snippet Sunday

It's NYE and I know a lot of y'all have plans so I'm just going to generally tag anyone who is around and has something they want to share.

My hermit butt has been hard a work writing new chapters for Ranger and the Deputy and my snippet is from one of the upcoming chapters

--

Helga and Diego were out on the dance floor, Helga moving without a care in the world while Diego twirled were around. Kitty was jealous, she wanted to be out there too. Delgado was a fun dance partner and after a week stuck in the infirmary she wanted to move but even rocking to the music on her stool hurt so no dancing for her.

Delgado sat next to her, his stool scooted close enough to nudge her legs with his from time to time, their arms leaned against one another. He nursed a whiskey on the rocks and they munched on a basket of tortilla chips together.

Kitty leaned closer to him, hoping her words would be drowned out by the horns for most the bar patrons, “Are you upset about my choice?”

Delgado looked to her bewildered, “No? Why would I be upset?”

“Well you haven’t exactly appeared happy over it,” Kitty shrugged and picked up a chip.

“I’m just concerned,” he turned his upper body to face her more and leaned closer, “I’ve seen this job chew up and spit out so many people and it’s already taken a huge bite out of you and you hadn’t even signed on yet.”

“And Helga’s comment about me being your deputy?” Kitty asked, her head tilted ever so slightly, her eyes watching the other rangers dancing, Diego dipping Helga back as she laughed.

“It’s been a while since I’ve worked with anyone and I hadn’t thought anyone would expect me to be the one mentoring you,” Del reached down and touched her knee, “I’ve been focused on other things lately.”

“Mhmm,” Kitty hummed with a sultry smile, her eyes returning to him.

He flashed a vulpine smile and leaned even closer, “I’ve been very concerned for my new friend.”

“Is that what we are?” she asked, her smile never wavering, “friends?”

“I’d hope so,” his eyes darted to her lips and then back to her eyes.

“You have a lot of friends you look at like that?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted, “but everyone needs a special friend.”

Kitty took a moment, lost in his handsome amber eyes, “I agree,” she reached out and rubbed his leg.

He exhaled, his eyes lingering on her lips again, “not a new concept for you?”

“No,” she gave his thigh a squeeze and turned back to the bar, finally popping her chip into her mouth. She felt him watch her and swore she could feel a brief wave of jealousy roll off of him. She swallowed and glanced back to him, “though he definitely flaked out of the special aspects of our friendship.”

“You poor thing,” he shook his head and sipped his drink.

“Oh I know, woe is me,” she lifted the back of her hand to her forehead and leaned back, a theatric lilt to her words before she devolved into a giggle.

[pbandjesse]

Me and James are at Jess's house! None of us are tired but we have to wake up at 5 to go to the airport so we are going to try our best to get some sleep.

Today was a restful day. Like I did my best to not make myself crazy. I slept in even! I actually wanted to keep sleeping past 930 but I knew it would actually make me feel worse so I slowly worked on waking up.

Dad had texted me not long before I woke up so I asked if I could call him at 10. And when I did I put him on speaker so I could continue to lay there. But it was so nice to talk to him. He told me a story about when he first bought my childhood home and how he got hurt. I didn't know that! They told him he would never work construction again, but we know now that he got better. But that must have been so scary for him.

He wished me and Jess a good time on our trip and we said goodbye. And I finally actually got up.

I decided to take a shower and shave my legs. Which we never have enough hot water for. But I made it work. I did not wash my hair so I will have to do that Sunday night. At the hotel. Which is not my favorite thing but it fine. I got dressed and felt really cool. This was a good look.

I spent the morning cleaning a bit. It was more organizing then like swiffering and wiping things. I made the bed. And shook out the rugs. And then rolled them up to pack them away. I had leftover Indian food for breakfast with tortilla chips. And I watched some videos. I packed a few more boxes and took down all my miniatures from my wall of house frames. I could not take down the houses because our drill is at the house. So that will have to be done later but I made great progress and it felt good.

I sat down to catch up on all my knitting. Which took about an hour. I just watched a video and did all the attachments and I am very pleased with January so far. I'll finish this month and start the next next weekend after we are back.

Once I was done I put on some shoes to walk to Walgreens. I got some gum and a cliff bar and a new nail file. I wandered around and hugged the stuffed animals. And then walked home. I found a really cute basket in the alley that I took home and packed all my 2005 and 2012 furbies in with my mom furby robots. It was a good time. Felt really productive.

I went through my packing for Disney again. I wrote down every item in an inventory. And double and triple checked that I wasn't missing anything. And there were things so could have added for sure. But I really wanted to be streamlined, so I can have room for any souvenirs, and so I wouldn't have to carry to much. And I think I did an excellent job. I feel like this might be the best packing I've done since me and Jess's road trip.

By the late afternoon I just wanted to lay in bed with sweetp. He was being very very needy. I was filing my nails and he was biting the file and being a menace. But I would get up to sweep the studio because after I moved the rugs I discovered how much junk was under the rugs and dirt and pins and junk. So I went to borrow the broom from the hallway and discovered I had some packages. Amazing.

After is wept I opened my packages and it was some house stuff. The window clings. Some contact paper. Things like that. I also got a new hair clip that looks like a bird and a little bow ring that I think it so darling. Like a little reminder on your finger.

I had some Mac and cheese and chilled with sweetp until around 330. And then I decided to get some snails out of the frog tanks, something I have let fall by the wayside. And then refill the water and feed everyone. Because then it was time to go. I said goodbye to Sweetp and told him I would be back in less then a week. And then I was off.

I struggled to the car a bit. But mostly because things kept falling out of my pocket. But I was able to collect everything and things were okay. And then I was off to the museum to meet James.

I would come inside after rearranging my bags in the backseat in the parking lot. James ran out the door to point at me and we were both smiling and laughing so big. I hung out inside with them and other Jesse for a little bit. Talking about wedding venue prices and how James wants the crane to get big googly eyes to become a new mascot for the museum. Which I think is a great idea.

We had to leave though. And after a quick stop for fries and nuggets at McDonald's we were off. And it was a nice ride. We had a nice conversation about life and names we like and being together. It was really good.

We made one more stop at a rest stop. Where I looked at the claw machines but did not play. And then pretty quickly we were at Jess's!!

I was really excited to see her. And quickly we were all piling in her car to go get Thai food for dinner.

This place was a hole in the wall but the food was great. We had some very silly conversations about our childhood meals and things we like or don't like and there were lots of laughs and it was just really lovely. Two nights this week I got to have dinner with my favorite people. I'm so lucky.

We got back here and I tried to help Jess with her packing. But she wants to bring three pairs of sneakers so there was only so much I could do to help consolidate. I think in the end we did a pretty good job. And we were able to get two pieces of outerwear cut from the suitcase and that freed up a bit of space. Jess said she hated me that I was only bringing my one fleece. But my black fleece has been all I want to wear since I got it so I just lucked out!! I didn't even bring a sweatshirt, figuring I will buy one in Disney probably. It's not my fault she wanted to bring a fleece, a crew neck, two cardigans, a zip up hoodie, a rain coat, and a denim jacket! She wanted to be prepared for every weather. I decided to just love with the consequences of bringing just this one.

We would do what we could though. And after switching some of my trading pins to her lanyard and moving a few things around I feel like we are ready and will have to do very little in the morning. Excellent.

That whole time James was in the couch working on editing their podcast. It was nice to have their energy there. I am going to miss them being there this week!!! It will be very hard being away for so long.

We would all start getting ready for bed. Against our wills. But James is winding down now. Despite an annoying cough they keep having at night. And I am ready to try and sleep too. I am going to go grab my water from the other room and turn off the light. I hope I can get some sleep.

Tomorrow we will fly to Florida in the morning and spend the day at Disney springs and exploring our hotel/resort. I'm very excited. I am going into this with an open mind and open heart and just going to lean into every experience I can. I think it's going to be wonderful.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. Wish us luck and safe travels! Tomorrow I will be writing from Disney World! Goodnight!