#we checked the bread cupboard recently

[alex-the-discoboy]

"Chernobyl of bread" is probably the best quote to come out of me

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

When you breakup with him and he returns your house key - BANGCHAN

Bnagchan x Reader 

Genre: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Word Count: 1.2k 

Summary: When you break up with him and he returns your house key.

Warnings: protected sex (don’t be silly wrap that silly) foreplay, cum, penitration if you aren't 18 or over please do not read.

AN: Okay, based off a true event lol not how it really went down however if it was chan it totally would have. 

Taglist: @bellamuerte1987 @shellyyy177 @nightrayseishina @daceydeath (let me know if you would like to be tagged in future posts)

Masterlist

You had recently broken it off with your boyfriend chan, who was an amazing human being, it's just you didn't fit together anymore, and your life goals aren't the same. 

It's night three by yourself in your now semi-empty apartment listening to Latina music in your T-shirt and underwear while making dinner. 

You hear a faint knock on the door and check your security cameras to see who it is "fuck it, chan", you say to yourself, he was supposed to drop them off tomorrow night. You answer the door, and he looks you up and down, then smirks "ha answering the door in your underwear, now are we" he chuckled. 

"I knew it was you….what do you want, chan?" You say, unimpressed by his comment. 

"I was on my way home and thought I'd give the unit key back now" you opened the screen door to retrieve the key from him. 

He looked different, softer than usual. He looked defeated, like this was a battle he could not win. You felt for him because it wasn't easy to side-swipe him the way you did. Chan definitely did not see this break-up coming. 

"Thanks for giving me the key back", you smile. He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks away. 

"Yep, no problem," he says, rocking his feet heel to toe and back. 

"Are you ummm hungry….." his eyes snap back to you, and he immediately stops rocking. 

"I am a little, yeah", his hand on the back of his neck. You still have this way of making his stomach twist with nervousness. 

"I have some spaghetti if you want to eat it" you open the door for him, and he takes a hesitant step inside.

"You sure it's alright if I stay for dinner?" He stands awkwardly as you take two plates out of the cupboard.

"Chan, can you just relax…. you're making it so awkward", you laugh, and he hesitates to sit at the table. 

You serve him up a bowl and place it on the table. "Can I ask you a question?" He says as you sit down.

"Sure, I guess", you say, biting into the garlic bread. 

"When did you stop loving me?" He was playing with his fork. 

"I never stopped loving you, chan…we just aren't on the same page at the moment".

………

After you both finish eating, chan once again shoves his hands in his pocket "well, I better go…thank you for dinner" he pecks your lips, almost like he forgot you two had broken up.

"I am so sorry-"you kiss him back, a shock to chan at first, but soon his hands wrap around you as he pulls you in and walks you back towards the couch. 

"God, I've missed you," he said, lying you down. 

Kissing down your neck and lifting his head to smile down at you. "This doesn't mean we are back together, chan", you make a point of saying as he leans down and kisses your lips. 

"I know….but I'm horny, and you're the only one I want…so let's just have some fun" he runs his hand up the inside of your shirt, tracing his fingers across your stomach. 

"Is it okay if I take your shirt off" you nodd as he slowly lifts you up so he can pull your shirt over your head? 

"Okay….okay…why am I so nervous" he giggled "I've done this a million times with you….but I'm so nervous" you lift his T-shirt over his head, revealing his god-like body. You did regret breaking up with him a little bit at this point because the sex aspect of your relationship never failed. 

"Just relax, okay… we don't have to do this if you don't want to", you reassure him as you trail along his pants line. 

"I really, really want to, " he says, kissing you while pushing back down on the couch, now kissing down your shoulder blades. 

"There's not a lot of room on here…should we take this to the bedroom?" He grins. He picks you up, walking you to the bed you've shared for years. His hand unclasped your bra as his hand roamed your back. He reached your bedroom and laid you on the bed. He pulled off your bra and, with both of his hands, locked fingers with yours, pulling them above your head. 

"I want to know I didn't come here to get you back… I just want you to be happy" you lean up and kiss him partly because you missed his kindness and touch, and the other just wanted him to shut up and fuck you already. 

"Can we stop talking now" you smile as you pull away? 

"Yep…good idea," he says, letting go of your hands. You tail your finger under his pants to signal him to take them off. Chan doing just that. He pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. As he rolls his body down onto yours for another heated kiss, his hard member now pressed against your core. 

"Channie, please…" you moan, chan slowly rises, and it pulls the top draw open. 

"Perfect, you kept them….kinda like you knew we'd be having sex again" he pulled out a condom, opened the packet with his mouth, and rolled it down his shaft. 

"Let's get you nice and wet, hmm," he says, getting on his knees now face to face with your centre. He licks between your lips and slowly sucks on your clit, getting you nice and aroused. 

"Mmmm, Channie", you moan as you grip the sheets. He got up and lined himself up with your entrance. He moans as he slowly pushes his way into your core "fuck me, you are so tight, baby" he leans down, giving over your body once more as he pauses to let you adjust to his prominent member. 

You begin to grind your hips as he slowly pumps in you. "I don't know how long I'll last… this is so good", he moaned in your ear. He was so cute. He made you feel like the hottest person alive was just the icing on the cake. 

"Come on, Channie…. Stay with me," you say, placing sloppy kisses on his ear. Stay with you, he did. He pounded deeper and deeper inside you, making you moan into his ear. 

"Come on….just a little longer", he moans into your neck, his free hand starting to stimulate your clit, slowly circling. 

"Oh, chan, please.." you clench down on his cock, and he stops stimulating your clit. 

"You have never done that before", he moans, unclench and pulling his head up. 

"Did I say stop?" he said, kissing you as he beings again circling your clit. You clench once more, but this is followed by an incredible orgasm. 

"Oooooh, CHAN" you scream, chan not too far behind you creaming into his condom. 

"Fuckkkk yeah", he moans. He helps you ride out your highs and then pulls outputting the condom into the bin in the corner of the room. 

"I Ummm think I should probably go," he says, putting his pants back on. 

"I think you should", you giggle. 

"Well, thanks again for dinner…." You shimmy back into your undies and walk him to the door. 

"I'm always here if you want to do that again" he smiles as he kisses you goodbye. 

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," you say as you close the screen door, watching chan walk out and to his car. 

[strawberrywritingfiction]

Midnight Cravings

Tom Holland x Reader   

Word count: 0.7k

Synopsis: To Tom’s dismay, you attempt to make late night snack trips

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy?

^^^

        You groaned after the past few hours of tossing and turning. Leaning across your bedside table, you reached for your phone, and by lifting it, you squinted at the bright white numbers that read 2:00. Scoffing, you attempted to quietly get up without awaking your husband, Tom. Once successfully doing so, you creeped outside the bedroom, and softly padded down the stairs, into the kitchen. Within the past few months you found yourself making many trips to the kitchen for snacks, now more frequently than ever, as you had grown rapidly in size due to the tiny human within your stomach. It was most evenings now you were in search of snacks at late hours. Only this evening, to your dismay, you had run out of sprinkles. You checked each cupboard, only to find an empty sprinkles container. At this point, you were teary eyed, and there seemed to be no other option than to get some yourself.

Less than an hour later, Tom perked up at the sound of a door opening downstairs. Confused, he turned to your bedside, only to find the covers drawn and your figure absent. Worry overtaking him, he rushed down the stairs, stopping at the sight in the kitchen.

A grocery bag, strewn across the kitchen counter, containers of sprinkles dispersed from within it, and you. Eyes puffy and red, sprinkling the colourful sprinkles on a piece of buttered bread. Your recent favourite snack.

“Darling, what are you doing?” He sighed, out of both tiredness and concern. 

You sniffed.

“I thought we were out of sprinkles- I forgot to get more today- did you go...”

“Yes,” you interrupted, “I went to get sprinkles at 2 am, but it was a quick trip, and I’ve got them now, ok?” You huffed and walked over to the staircase, plate in hand, before Tom stopped you. 

“M’love, next time you need sprinkles, for whatever the reason, wake me up, and I’ll go, ok?”

“Ok.” You nodded, and retreated to bed. 

^^^

Not even 4 days later, you found yourself quietly creeping out of bed, in need of another late night snack. Although this one required a trip as well. So you quietly and cautiously walked downstairs. Then, you grabbed a sweater and opened the front door, just before.... Tom dashed in front of you and held the door closed. He stood still, although out of breath from a run down the stairs. His hair was tousled, and he was clad in a white shirt, and baggy plaid pajama pants that hung at his waist. He also managed to throw on a pair of slippers. 

“Tommm,” you grumbled, “I’m gonna be quick, just let me-” 

“No,” Tom chuckled. “Hon, I’m not gonna let you go to a supermarket in the middle of the night. Not in your state- and I think even now, your tummy can barely fit behind the wheel.

You were persistent. And made a continuous effort to pull the door open by the handle, but Tom stood fixed.

“I’m meant to do this kinda thing,” he continued, “It’s basically my job, as your partner. I wanna do this for you. Besides, we both know, that if I don’t get-- what is it you need?

“Pineapple,” you murmured. In utter defeat too, as you had let go of the door.

“Right, if I don’t get pineapple, you definitely will, and you’re not doing that tonight, yeah?”

Too tired to protest, you tossed him the keys. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in 10.” He smiled defiantly before heading out.

And so, he brought back the pineapple. Although it wasn’t the last instantaneous craving you had. 

^^^

Just 2 days later, you found yourself, again, quietly slipping out of bed to get a much-needed snack. Only the ruffle of the bed sheets woke your groggy husband. 

“Whaddya need now, love,” he mumbled, half into his pillow. 

“I’m going to a drive through- I need fries,” You whispered. It took Tom a second before he slid out of bed, and threw on his pair of slippers. 

“I’m gonna get them then,” he said tiredly, hand held out, expected to be given your car keys.

“Nope,” You said with a dangle of the keys, “I’m going regardless, you can either join me and drive, or let me go alone. Besides, it’s just a drive through.”

Tom smiled, with a little roll of his eyes in turn of your stubbornness, and grabbed your keys. 

^^^

[fruitcoops]

Hii, i love your work! Can I request an angst fic with prompts 38, 31 and 78. Like Logan and Leo get into a big fight and Logan says something bad (like I hate u and something like that) and Leo just leaves and maybe goes to Remus and Sirius. And then they make up idk, just a happy ending.

Thanksss❤️❤️🥺

Hello! I really enjoyed writing this ask because I haven’t written a lot of relationship-related angst yet, and I’m pretty happy with it. Credit for Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for arguing in relationships

Prompt 31: “He’s not answering his phone.”

Prompt 38: “Don’t talk like that.”

Prompt 78: “What did you just say?”

It started with a book.

It wasn’t a particularly special book—on the contrary, it was a beat-up copy of A Tale of Two Cities that Leo had received as a birthday present years ago. He didn’t even like the book that much, but it was a rainy day and he hadn’t slept and he wanted something familiar to daydream through.

There was a heavy, irritated sigh from the kitchen. Leo glanced up at Finn, who was folding laundry, and frowned. “Lo, you okay?” Finn asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“It’s just—it’s fine.”

Finn set a pair of socks down and ducked into the kitchen; Leo turned back to his book, but kept both ears pricked. “What’s wrong?” Finn’s voice was soft and concerned.

“I don’t know, I’m just upset,” Logan answered. Dishes clanked in the sink and Leo winced, silently hoping none of them would be chipped. “Just finish the laundry and we can go to bed.”

Something in his tone rubbed Leo the wrong way and he stood, joining Finn in the doorway. “Hey, don’t talk to him like that.”

“Like what?” Logan set a fork down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You’re being snappy and I don’t like it. Finn doesn’t, either.”

Finn turned to look at him reproachfully. “What’s your deal?”

“Well, I was kind of looking forward to a quiet evening where we could hang out and read, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

Logan huffed. “Maybe if you pulled your weight around here we could have a quiet evening.”

“Excuse me?”

“Finn and I have been cleaning for the last hour while you read your stupid book—”

“Leave me out of this!”

“—and I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you.”

Leo’s eyebrows rose and he huffed out a laugh, hardly believing his ears. “I’m sorry, who’s the one that leaves wet towels on the floor every fucking time he showers? Oh, but pardon me for taking an hour and a half to read after not sleeping because somebody was kicking me last night.”

“Both of you, cut it out,” Finn tried, holding his hands out to placate them. Blood thundered in Leo’s ears—he had no idea why his temper was flaring so suddenly, but he wasn’t going to back off and let Logan win. “Logan, I can finish the dishes. Leo, take a deep breath.”

“You’re taking his side now?” Leo asked incredulously. “You always take his side.”

“I’m not taking sides, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you two!”

“What do mean, he always takes my side?” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, quiet rage twisting his face.

“That’s what you do.” The words were coming out of him in a torrent—unstoppable and furious. “You two tag-team every time we get in a fight and suddenly I’m outnumbered.”

“Wha—tag team?” Finn shook his head in disbelief. “Leo, what the fuck are you talking about? I love you, Logan loves you, and you love us.”

If Leo hadn’t been so angry, he probably would have missed Logan muttering under his breath. Instead, he rounded on him, his fists clenching and unclenching. “What did you just say?” Logan glared and kept his mouth shut. “Logan, what did you just say?”

“Nothing you’ll care about,” he said coldly.

Leo shook his head and grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “Fuck off, Logan. Just fuck off.”

The slamming of the door behind him was not nearly satisfying enough to quell his nausea and the pounding in his head. He got in the car and turned off the radio with a hard jab to the CD port; the opening notes of one of Logan’s favorite songs from the road trip playlist made Leo’s eyes sting as he pulled out of the garage and headed down the road.

“What did I just do?” he asked the empty car. “Jesus, Leo, you just stormed out with no plan and left two angry boyfriends behind, and now you have nowhere to go and nothing to do and nobody to go home to—”

He pulled over, parked the car, and burst into tears. Leo hadn’t cried like that since his first night in Gryffindor, so far away from home and too afraid of waking Logan up with his sobs to do more than silently weep into his pillow. Logan had definitely heard anyway, because when he woke up the next morning there was a hot cup of coffee next to the door.

“I fucked up.” The steering wheel made his forehead itch. “I fucked up so bad, oh my god.”

You need to go somewhere, the reasonable voice in his head that sounded quite a bit like his dad chided. If you go back and apologize, they’ll take you back.

I can’t. It’s too soon and I’m still upset.

Then think. Who else cares enough to let you stay?

Leo sniffled and wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. No, not his sweater—Finn’s. It took him another five minutes to pull himself together enough to turn on his blinker and head out onto the road again, following the familiar path without even needing to check his phone. The December air made the dried tears on his cheeks extra cold as he walked up the driveway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shivering in the cold. This was nothing like home.

He heard the doorbell ring through the house and stepped back a bit to admire the holiday lights in a rainbow of colors. They sparkled, a beacon against the night that made his heart clench. The door swung open a few moments later. “Hey, Leo, what’s…going on?” Remus trailed off.

“Hey,” he sniffled. “Uh, can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Remus moved to the side so he could enter and he slipped his shoes off in silence, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t absolutely lose it right on the welcome mat. “Are you okay? Sorry, bad question. What happened?”

“We got in a fight,” Leo said miserably, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Logan and I. Finn got dragged into it and really it was my fault and I just kinda left.”

“Okay. Do you want a hug?”

He nodded without a word and Remus wrapped him tightly in his arms. He rubbed soothing circles on his back—Leo felt more tears slide down his face as he melted into the warm touch. “I’m sorry for not letting you know I’d be here.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re always glad to see you. Can we move into the kitchen for a sec so you can drink some water?”

“Once a PT, always a PT,” Leo joked halfheartedly as he pulled away and scrubbed at his eyes. “Ugh.”

The kitchen was cheerful and simple, with dark red walls and white cupboards. He sat down at the island and put his chin on his forearms as Remus got him a glass of water and dampened some paper towels. “I don’t know where I put the tissues, sorry.”

“Thanks, Loops,” he said, wiping his face.

“Re, was someone at the door?” Sirius came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.”

He glanced at Remus, then set his empty bowl on the counter and leaned against the fridge. “What’s up?”

“Logan and I got in a fight.”

“With each other?”

“No, with the mailman,” he snapped, instantly regretting it. His lower lip wobbled; this was just how the fight had begun in the first place. “Sorry. Yeah, with each other. And Finn.”

“Where are they?”

“At h—home.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I left.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked carefully, sitting down next to him.

Leo’s shoulders slumped and he rested his temple on Remus’ shoulder. “It was so stupid.”

“Don’t talk like that, it was clearly important.”

“I was reading for an hour instead of helping them clean up because I was so fucking tired, and Logan was frustrated that I wasn’t helping. Finn tried to calm us both down, but I accused him of taking sides and then Logan mumbled something and wouldn’t tell me what he said.” It all blubbered out on a fresh wave of emotion and Remus handed him the paper towel again.

“That doesn’t sound stupid,” Sirius said in the gentlest voice Leo had ever heard him use.

“Really?”

“Really. It sounds like you let some things build up for too long, like a volcano.”

Leo sniffled. “You sound like my dad.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.” He straightened up again and took a long sip of water. “God, I feel awful.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not surprised. Have you eaten recently?”

“We were going to have dinner when Lo finished with the dishes. So, no.”

“You want a sandwich?”

“Yes, please.” To Leo’s surprise, Sirius pulled a block of cheese out of the fridge and bread out of the cupboard. “You cook?”

He and Remus made identical ‘ehhh’ noises. “Un peu,” Sirius laughed. “I burn soup, but grilled cheese is easy.”

“How the fuck do you burn soup?”

“You want to know the worst part?” He looked over his shoulder briefly. “It was canned soup.”

“What?”

“Mhm. I turned the heat on high because I thought it would cook faster.”

Leo’s tide of emotions molded into total confusion. “Why would you do that? The instructions are on the can.”

“Strangely enough, that’s what I told him,” Remus said wryly. “And still it’s happened twice.”

“You are so mean to me,” Sirius sighed as he turned the stove on. “I make you grilled cheese sandwiches and this is the thanks I get?”

“Sorry, love.”

“How do you do that?” Leo asked.

Remus turned back to him. “Do what?”

“Have this…” He gestured vaguely. “Perfect, amazing relationship. How?”

Sirius snorted and returned to his place by the fridge. “It’s not perfect.”

“But you’re so happy all the time.”

“Aren’t you?” Remus asked. “When you’re with your boys, aren’t you happy?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “They’re the best thing in the world.”

“Do you have a perfect relationship?”

“Uh, no.”

“There’s your answer.” Remus spread his hands. “Fights happen. Sometimes you can’t stand to even be in the same room as your person, or your people. Sometimes it feels like everything they do drives you crazy. But that doesn’t mean you stop loving them, and they don’t stop loving you.”

“The fight wasn’t about me reading,” Leo said quietly. Understanding was beginning to settle in. “And it wasn’t about Logan leaving towels all over or me not pulling my weight. I think we both just had bad days. Is that normal?”

“I hope so,” Sirius said. “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.”

“I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.”

“I was—I am—scared,” Leo confessed. “There’s just so much happening all the time. Finn and Logan…they’re my center point. My anchor.”

Sirius slid a perfect grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and handed it to him. “Then you should tell them that.”

Just as he took his first bite, the doorbell rang. Remus frowned. “We’re popular tonight.”

After checking his phone quickly, Sirius wandered down the hall, and in his absence a large black dog came out of the living room to set her head on Leo’s thigh. “Hey, Hattie.” He scratched her behind the ears and tore off a piece of his sandwich to give her.

“Oh. Hello.” Sirius sounded surprised.

“Hey, Cap.”

Leo froze and Remus’ eyes widened. “Have you heard from Leo?” Finn asked. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Because of the fight,” Sirius said.

Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Tact,” he muttered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Leo could picture Finn’s face in his head, uneasy and worried. “So he’s talked to you?”

“He’s been in our kitchen for the last half hour.”

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked. “He’s—can we come in?”

“No shoes in the house.” There was a moment of rustling, then a staccato pattern of footsteps in the hall before Logan and Finn appeared in the entrance.

“Mon dieu.” Logan nearly collapsed against the doorframe when he saw Leo; his eyes were red-rimmed and he seemed to be a bit of a wreck. “I’m so sorry, Peanut.”

“We’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” Remus said, slipping out of the room with a final glance to Leo.

“My phone was off, sorry,” he said quietly, feeding Hattie another bit of bread. The pressurized fury from before was completely gone—he only felt regretful now, and utterly exhausted. “I’m also sorry for yelling. And accusing you. And for dragging you into it, Finn. Oh, and for leaving.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Logan took two tentative steps closer and Leo stood up, holding his arms out. Relief crashed over his face and he nearly tackled him in a hug. “I took out my bad day on you and as soon as you were gone I regretted it. Merde, Leo, I’m sorry.”

Extra warmth cocooned them both as Finn joined the hug. “I love you both so much,” Leo mumbled into Logan’s hair.

Logan snuggled closer. “I love you, too.”

“Me, three.”

They all laughed weakly at that, stepping back and sitting down at the island. Leo bit the inside of his lip. “So…things were said.”

“Things were said,” Logan agreed. “I didn’t mean what I said about cleaning up after you.”

“I know. I didn’t mean what I said about tag-teaming.” He winced at the memory. “That was flat-out mean and uncalled for. And Finn…” Finn looked up from petting Hattie. “I used you as leverage and that was horrible.”

“Same here,” Logan said guiltily.

“Yeah, let’s not do that again, okay?” Finn looked between them and raised his eyebrows as they both nodded. “I don’t take sides when I’m choosing between my boyfriends.”

“Leo…” Logan started and trailed off.

“Yeah, Lo?”

He struggled for the words for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Do you—do you want to know what I said in the kitchen?”

In the kitchen…Leo wracked his brain and tried to remember. They had been arguing, and then Logan muttered something he couldn’t hear. He was tempted to say yes. “No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “We were both upset. Whatever it is, I don’t think you meant it, so it doesn’t matter now. We’ve fought enough tonight.”

“Should we head home, then?” Finn suggested, taking both their hands. “I’m pretty tired and hungry.”

“You could ask Cap to make you a grilled cheese,” Leo joked. “They’re damn good.”

“Cap can cook?” they chorused incredulously.

[whump-town]

Kittens

I wrote something along these lines as an idea a while ago and I finished it now in-between breaks I’ve allowed myself between an essay I have to write. I figured it’s not my best but no one gets hurt and Hotch talks to a cat for the majority of it so it’s not that bad

The creaking of the old floorboards stops Hotch from going down the hall and checking to make sure Jack is up. He stands for a moment at the mouth of the hallway, listening to Jack curse and mumble under his breath. Most of which, he can’t hear but there are dips in Jack’s voice which allow for only certain words to float their way down to him.

“Where-- that little motherfu-- he’s going to-- shit, shit, shit--”

Hotch huffs a little laugh, a chuckle that makes no more than the whisper of a breath of noise leaving his mouth. Parenting doesn’t make much sense and Hotch is certain he’s probably supposed to say something to Jack about the cursing but to his credit, Jack hasn’t spoken like that in Hotch’s presence. Plus, it would make him a hypocrite to get too frustrated over it. He cursed at sixteen and he still does. He also smoked and got into all kinds of trouble and, as far as he knows, the most Jack gets into on a Saturday night is too many energy drinks and a new book.

As curious as Hotch is about whatever it is that Jack is fussing with, Hotch has to get breakfast ready. He turns and starts to walk to the kitchen. That’s where he’s headed when he sees something small and orange bolts ahead of him. Glancing over his shoulder, in the direction it had come from, Hotch finds nothing. Just the light peeking out from behind Jack’s door.

Hmm. Odd.

Hotch continues down the hall, looking around the floor as he goes. Trying to see what it was and where it went. Until he gets to the kitchen. “Oh,” Hotch raises an eyebrow at the kitten he finds sniffing the floor near the oven. A tiny orange kitten. He picks it up, observing it as he turns it around to inspect the tiny thing.

It looks up and him and gives a little irritated meow.

“You must be motherfucker,” Hotch says, rubbing a finger over its head. “I think Jack is looking for you.” Hotch smiles as the kitten purs, pushing its head under his finger for more. He indulges it and, he has to admit, the thing is cute. He doesn’t mind it. “Are you hungry?”

He goes to the fridge and inspects the findings… slim pickings. “Cats are lactose intolerant, right?” He looks down as the kitten squirms his arms. Rolling over it attacks his fingers but cradled to his chest it’s safe. “I don’t know anything about cats.” He’s never had any pets. Haley had an old dog named Bailey when they first got together. A border collie her father bought for her birthday years before from a farmer in town.

Growing up in the country he’d seen plenty of stray cats and dogs but he’d never had his own. There was a porch cat he used to feed bread to but his father scared it off and kicked it once. Hotch had looked so much like his father that the cat wouldn’t come to him anymore after that incident. That was probably for the best.

“Here,” Hotch finally settles. He pulls the almond milk out of the fridge, setting it on the counter. He adds the container of blueberries beside it. “I’m having oatmeal but I reckon you can probably have almond milk, right?” With a frown, he makes a mental note to ask Emily or Garcia about that. One of them is bound to know. For now, a little almond milk is probably fine. It doesn’t have milk in it but he wants to be certain.

Taking a bowl out of the cupboard, he hums and reaches over for the measuring cups. He’s been making oatmeal for years so he’s mastered the eyeballing it technique. However, the half-cup measuring cup is the perfect size for him to use as a bowl for the kitten.

“Has Jack got you any food?” he asks placing the kitten on the counter. He pours a little almond milk in the half-cup and smirks when the kitten takes to it immediately. “Well… you probably wouldn’t drink that if it wasn’t good for you, right?” Probably… well, maybe.

This feels exactly like when they brought Jack home. He and Haley had been terrified of every little thing. They were constantly calling someone about something. He can easily call Emily or Garcia but… he’s an adult, he can handle a kitten.

“Stay,” he orders stepping away from the counter to grab a pan. The kitten doesn’t move just stands contently where it is drinking the almond milk. Hotch gets the oatmeal going, keeping an eye on the kitten out of the corner of his eye. “You’re hungry,” he notes, with a tilt of his head. And when it looks up at him, almond milk all over its face, there’s no way he can deny how cute it is.

His oatmeal doesn’t take that long to make and distracted with watching the kitten it’s a nice easy pace. Bowl of oatmeal in his palm, angry kitten trying to escape from where it’s tucked between his chest and forearm, and the little cup of almond milk pinched between his fingers he sits down at the kitchen table. “What has he named you?” Hotch asks, settling it all down on the table. It occurs to him it could be a little strange to let the cat on the table but it is a cat so if it sticks around he assumes there will be lots of table sitting.

Hotch can’t remember what book Jack was reading last week-- which is chronologically his best guess at when his little friend here made its way into the house. With hindsight, he can recall Jack having been just a little more distant with him, secretive. Jack is also significant with his decisions so maybe Hotch should think more along the lines of Jack’s favorite books, not his most recent reads. Then again maybe Jack hasn’t named the cat or he chose something out of a song or a movie.

Looking up as he hears Jack’s door creak open, he scowls back down at his lap. The kitten having stretched up at his chest and bats at one of the buttons on his shirt. He taps its little paw warningly, just enough to jar it a little, and judging from the look he receives this little warning tapis nothing something it was expecting.

“Hey, dad.”

Hotch looks up and hums back, nothing unusual because he certainly isn’t going to give up the advantage he has right now. His son is a snarky little shit -- purely Emily’s doing -- and Hotch rarely gets moments where he comes out ahead of whatever jokes Jack (or Emily) can make at his expense.

Jack comes around and nods his head, timidly going about making himself some cereal. Hotch doesn’t comment on his son’s socks -- one is teal with bright, highlighters yellow bananas and the other is beige with pink polka dots. Hotch had given up on Jack and socks. Jack gets a little thrill out of this rebellion and Hotch should just be happy that it’s not worse.

The two of them really have nothing in common. Jack loves science and math (Hotch has to use a calculator for simple multiplication). Hotch prefers for each of his books to look like they have never even been read (Jack has so many sticky notes in his copy that Fahrenheit 451 that it looks silly). Jack refuses to carry around a planner and writes everything down on the back of his hand (Hotch has multiple planners and color codes things in delicate details).

“Oh.” Jack turns with his cereal in his hands and sees the kitten in his father’s lap. That bright orange over his black dress pants. Jack knew his father wouldn’t be mad -- he can count on one hand the number of times he has seen Hotch angry. Though, he knows what he’s done wasn’t the right course to take. He’s not so sure what to do now, he hadn’t planned this far ahead.

Hotch hums again, nodding his head.

Jack looks down at the floor and timidly takes his seat across from his father at the table. Tucking his legs underneath himself to avoid hitting Hotch’s much longer stretched-out legs. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about hitting his dad’s legs but today he’s sensing he should probably consider his actions a little more. “Am in trouble?”

Hotch raises an eyebrow and looks away from the kitten to his Jack. He’s looking down at his cereal, playing with it so he can avoid looking at Hotch. Jack’s never really been in trouble. Hotch is a little too lenient at times but even Jessica is pretty bad for that. Even so, Jack has turned out pretty okay, he’s still a kid (16 isn’t that grown, despite that being the age Hotch’s father kicked him out at -- well sent him to boarding school but that was only after he spent a month couch surfing and sleeping in a shitty tent he stole).

“No.” It’s a cat and he’s not mad and Hotch doesn’t see just yet where he could make this a learning opportunity so… he’s not going to make it a big deal. It’s hard, in situations like these, to know where normal discipline comes into play. His own father would have beat him senseless or locked him out of the house for a week, maybe longer.

“Oh.”

Hotch frowns, “do you think you should be?” He doesn’t mean it to bait Jack, he means it honestly. There isn’t a right answer.

Jack shrugs, “I mean, I don’t know.” Jack is aware that his father isn’t like most dads but they’re in a unique situation, the two of them. “You should probably lecture me about something, right? I mean, I don’t think I’ll be sneaking in any more cats but that’s not as a result of any lecture. I certainly wouldn’t do it with a dog.”

So maybe not a lesson learned but still sounds like there’s no point acknowledged. “Okay,” Hotch reasons. It sounds fair. “Well, next time we talk this sort of thing over, okay? I respect you and your decisions and so I ask for your opinions on things, right? I need you to respect my opinions.”

Jack nods.

“So, any names?”

[heyyouwiththeassbutt]

The Christmas Gift (Part 1)

Summary - Christmas with your super-soldier friends had become a tradition. Until one of them can't make it and everything changes, thanks to an early Christmas present. Part 1 of 2.

Pairing - Steve Roger x Reader

Warning - Major smut in future chapter and just a little bit in this chapter. Dubious consent (kinda sorta sex pollen??). Cursing. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know!

Word Count - 3,536

A/N - Part one of my two-part Christmas fic challenge. All mistakes are my own. Feedback is greatly needed and appreciated.

-----------

December 24th, 2019

10:21

"This had better be important." You huffed out, the grave tone of your voice more than a hint that you had been deep in sleep before your phone had begun to ring. The laugh on the other end of the phone had been far too bright and airy for this early in the morning. "Just calling to let you know I've landed, Doll. Grabbing a cab and should be there within half an hour." Steve's words bounced around your head for a few seconds before you sighed and pushed yourself into an upright position on your far too comfortable bed.  For the last four years, you had welcomed the famous Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes into your home for Christmas. It had been an offhanded comment about how you spent Christmas by yourself since you couldn't get the time off work to travel home to your folks, but you were more than happy when you opened your front door that first Christmas Eve to see your two closest friends, arms filled with bags of Christmas food and gifts.  You were a lowly techie within the Stark tower, but after crossing paths with the boys only a few times, they'd taken you under their wings and your friendship with them became one of the most important things in your life. Throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts, you listened as Steve told you about their most recent mission, how he had worried it was going to last over the Christmas period, and how Sam had threatened to murder Bucky twice, just for being Bucky. "I'll talk to him when you get here, he needs to learn how to talk to Sam like a regular human." You laughed softly as you left your room and headed for the kitchen to throw on a pot of coffee.  Silence greeted you at the end of the line. "Stevie? Have I lost you?"  "No... I'm still here. Did Buck not tell you?"  "Tell me what?" "He's, ah, he's not coming this year." 

10:59 Steve was leaning against your kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of coffee as you angrily paced back and forth. It wasn't even that he wasn't coming that had bothered you, it was that he hadn't even told you. "It's just downright rude. I bought a turkey! And that bread sauce he likes!" You groaned out, sitting at the kitchen island, a pout on your lips.  Steve nodded, a small smile on his face as he looked up from his coffee cup, "If it makes you feel better, I like bread sauce too."  You rolled your eyes, but a smile settled on your face. At least Steve was still there. You'd make sure to text Bucky your annoyance later, but for now, you focused on the fact your friend was here for the first time in months.  Things had been crazy for a long time, between Steve and Buckys missions and the new project Tony had you working on, you'd missed far too many of your usual catch-up coffees and late-night movie marathons with your friends. It was almost a sense of relief that flooded you at having your friend back. You hopped down from the chair and walked over to him, a grin on your face, "What ya get me for Christmas?"  Steves smile faded and he shook his head, pointing a finger at you accusingly, "No. You do this every year, I'm keeping it a secret until tomorrow."  Your pout returned as you wrapped your arms around his waist, his large hand resting on your hip and your chin resting on his chest, looking up at him through your lashes, "Please Stevie? You know I hate waiting..."  There was a long pause where neither of you spoke, just looking at each other. Steve stood still, one hand clutching the coffee cup, the other frozen on your hip. You peered up at him questioningly before he seemed to pull himself out of whatever he had been thinking of and cleared his throat, removing his hand from you and setting down the coffee cup. He moved out of your reach as he muttered that he needed the bathroom, vanishing down the hallway. You stared after him. That was new. 

14:33 Elf was playing on the TV as you and Steve relaxed on the couch, him laying halfway across it as you lay with your legs across his.  This morning's weirdness had faded, but it still stuck in your mind. You had always been affectionate with the boys, and them you. It wouldn't have been unusual to find the three of you cuddling in your bed after they failed to get you out of bed on one of their visits, you pulling them down onto the comfy mattress until you all found yourselves drifting back to sleep.  It had become normal for you to hug each other for extended periods after a long, stressful day when you just needed the touch of another person.  Steves odd behavior this morning had confused you. It probably didn't seem that strange to anyone else, but you couldn't get past the knowledge that if you'd done the same thing when Bucky was there, Steve would have probably grabbed you into a hug, trapping your arms as Bucky snuck up behind you, tickling you until you were squealing and relenting that your gift could stay a surprise.  You had missed most of the movie as your brain worked a mile a minute. Maybe Bucky was the reason it had been weird. Steve was a gentleman. It was possible he didn't think it right to be showing you that effection when the two of you were alone. Come to think of it, you couldn't really remember a time when you and Steve had spent much time together alone.  A small squeeze on your ankle brought you back to the present, your gaze shot to Steve as you blinked slowly.  He was watching you with a smile on his face, "I asked if you wanted lunch, Doll." You hadn't realized how hungry you were until he said it, having only had a slice of buttered toast this morning.  "Food sounds good, I have lasagne in the fridge, made it special." You grinned as you swung your legs off the couch and made your way to the kitchen. Steve paused the movie and followed you, him lifting plates out of the cupboard as you switched on the oven to reheat the food.  You fell into your familiar pattern, talking about nothing in particular as you grated extra cheese for the top of the lasagna and Steve started on the salad. By the time the oven had pre-heated and the dish was in, you were in the middle of a light-hearted debate about why Bucky had canceled on your Christmas tradition. It reminded you that you still hadn't texted him and you grabbed your phone from where you had abandoned it on the kitchen counter earlier. You lent over the counter, your elbows braced on it as you began to type a seething text message. You were vaguely aware that Steve stood behind you, reading over your shoulder as you crafted your message. Hello Bucky, if that even is your real name. I don't feel that I even know you anymore. Not only did you not let me know you wouldn't be coming this year, but you also didn't tell Stevie that you hadn't told me. I'm not mad, Bucky. I'm just disappointed. P.S. Steve is utterly devastated to be without you, and has a notion that you have in fact canceled as you are so in love with him that you cannot stand to be with him another holiday without letting your true feelings be known, but it is fine, as we all know you wanna fuc- Steve grabbed the phone from your hands as you dissolved into giggles. He held you tight by the waist as he began to delete the message, you struggling in his arms as you attempt to reach for the phone. "Don't delete it, please, it's my masterpiece! He needs to know, Stevie!" You were still laughing as you struggled against him, your back pressed tightly to his body as he held the phone out of your reach, a grin on his face.  He deleted the message and looked down at you, redness on your cheeks from your fit of laughter and the strain of attempting to free yourself from his grip. He froze again. You almost tumbled to the ground as he released you, turning to check on the lasagna and leaving you unsteady on your feet as you stared at his back. 

19:12 Your phone buzzed as you received a text. As per your tradition, you were mid-way through putting the last of the decorations on the tree. Your tree had been up from the 15th, but you had only put the lights on, leaving the decorations until you were all together.  "Could you see who that is?" You called over to Steve, who stood by the fireplace, fastening the golden tinsel to the mantel.  He lifted your phone from the table in front of him and laughed softly before he read it aloud, "Sorry to miss Christmas, babe, duty calls. Steve has a present from me in his bag, you can open it whenever you want. Love, Buck."  You rolled your eyes, then jumped up and rushed over to Steve, your eyes bright, "So I do get to find out what my present is?"  Steve shrugged as he headed towards the hallway where he'd left his things, "I didn't know he'd put anything in my bag."  "Some super-soldier you are." You joked as you followed after him.  After a few minutes of Steve looking through his bags, he pulls out a small, box. He hands it over to you and you smile smugly before the smile fades and you bite your lip. "What if its a trick and he's going to shout at me for opening it before Christmas?"  "I won't tell if you won't." Steve laughed, his eyes on the present, as curious as you are.  You shrug and pull open the lid, pausing as you look at the sachet inside, labeled in Buckys' handwriting, 'Super special hot chocolate for my super special best friends'. You laughed softly and showed Steve what was inside the box. He lifts it out, an eyebrow raised as he reads it. He lifts out a second sachet that you hadn't seen, this one filled with mini marshmallows. The three of you always had hot chocolate on Christmas Eve, but you did find it slightly odd that this was what he'd given you. Shaking off the strange feeling, you put the sachets in the kitchen, sending off a quick thank you message along with a few confused emojis to Bucky before you went back to decorating the tree.

22:35 Throwing the empty Chinese takeaway containers into the trash, you stretched your hands above your head, your back making a satisfying cracking noise after several hours of laying awkwardly on the couch watching movies with Steve. Your gaze fell on the sachets on the kitchen counter and you smiled softly.  "Wanna see if this hot chocolate is poisoned?" You called to Steve as you pulled the milk and whipped cream from the fridge.  He answered in an affirmative grunt which made you laugh. You were pretty sure your laziness was rubbing off on him. Three minutes later, you handed him his mug, adorned with whipped cream, marshmallows and a drizzle of chocolate sauce you'd remembered at the last second. He smiled up at you as he took it, settling his free hand on your lower leg as you once again stretched your legs across his.  Falling into a comfortable silence, you took a drink of the hot chocolate and went back to watching whatever movie Steve had put on.

23:07 You felt weird. It wasn't a bad feeling, just... strange.  Peering down at your empty mug, you couldn't stop a hint of worry from creeping into your mind.  The thought wouldn't leave you as you tried your hardest to focus on the movie. It only lasted a few minutes, before you couldn't stand it and leaned over to the coffee table and lifting your phone. Quickly tapping to call Bucky, you became aware of Steve's hand running gently up and down your bare leg.  "Opened your present yet?" Bucky's voice in your ear pulled you back from a sudden, wandering thought that had thrown your mind into overdrive.  Clearing your throat, you tried to keep your tone even, "Yeah, we just drank it... Thank you. So, um, what made it so 'Super Special'?"  Steve made eye contact with you as Bucky laughed. You knew from how close he was, Steve would have been able to hear him even without his super hearing. "Just a little something I picked up on a mission. Did you like it?" "It was nice. What kind of something?" The hand Steve was running up and down your leg was extremely distracting, so much so that you had to ask Bucky to repeat what he'd said. He laughed again and you could hear the smirk in his voice, "You'll find out soon enough, Babe. Happy Christmas."  Just like that, the line went dead and you found yourself staring at the darkened screen. You looked at Steve and shrugged, setting your phone back on the coffee table as you tried to put your attention back to the television. His hand was warm on your lower thigh as Steve turned his gaze back to the movie. You felt him shift slightly, straightening a little bit as his other hand came to one of your socked feet, gently massaging the sole of your foot. Steve had given you a foot rub before. It had been nice, relaxing. This time felt less relaxing and you felt your cheeks heat up as his thumb dragged gently across the skin of your thigh.  You stayed that way for a few minutes, almost stuck still as your eyes wandered to his hand. Trying to keep your breath even, you made eye contact with him.  His gaze was searing, the blue of his eyes almost hidden by the deep black of his pupils.  Within seconds, he had pulled you onto him, straddling his thick thighs as your breath caught in your throat. You wondered as he looked up at you if your pupils were as blown as his.  You didn't have much time to think about it as his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you down into a searing kiss.  Body pressed tightly against his, your hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him somehow even closer. His hand on your neck gripped tighter as his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place.  The kiss deepened, your body alight as his tongue brushed across your lips, seeking permission. You weren't ashamed to say you moaned as you allowed him access, your tounges battling for dominance and if it didn't feel so good, you might have relented to him.  You ground yourself down on him, your body working of its own accord as he let out a hiss, breaking the kiss and dropping his head to pant across your throat, dropping kisses and sucking on the skin there as he did.  Small gasps left your lips as you continued to grind against him. He was hard and ready pressed against your core through his jeans and your shorts.  You whimpered as he pulled away from your neck, annoyance on your face as his hand on your waist gripped you harder, stilling your movements.  Guilt washed across his face as his forehead lent against yours, his eyes still blown black and his lips swollen from your kiss.  Leaning in to catch those full lips again, he made a noise deep in his throat as he kissed you back, softer than the first time. It was over too quickly as he pulled away,  "Stevie, please." You could hear the whine in your voice as you begged. You peppered kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, all while he stayed silent, his eyes closed tightly as he seemed to be having an internal battle with himself. His hand came up to your cheek, pushing you just far enough away that he could look into your eyes. "You don't want this, Doll. Bucky put something in the hot chocolate. You aren't... We aren't ourselves right now." The words wouldn't register in your brain. You didn't understand. Your gaze dropped to his chest as you bit your lip.  "Do you not want me, Steve?"  He growled again, low and frustrated, "You know I do. I want you so badly. But you aren't thinking straight."  "I am thinking straight, I want you," you argued, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks as you were met with a furious wave of rejection, "I'll be so good for you, Steve, I promise." Steve's hand on your waist tightened as he threw his head back, looking to the ceiling and blowing out a long breath. You could tell he was fighting his want, and you used it to your advantage and you rolled your hips on him again.  All at once, you were lifted off of him and set on the sofa as Steve stood. Steve was pacing across the room, his hands running through his blonde hair as his t-shirt lifted just enough to catch a glimpse of the deep V of his stomach. Your mouth watered, even more so when you saw the pronounced bulge in his jeans.   Staying silent, you sat there, watching him, waiting for him to make up your mind, but there was a voice in your head telling you how much you needed him that was quickly taking over all other thought.  Stilling, Steve looked at you as he pulled his mobile from the back pocket of his jeans. You didn't need to see the screen to know who he was dialing as he lifted the phone to his ear. 

23:49 Steve had been out of the room for at least 10 minutes, and you were fighting the overwhelming desire to seek him out. 

You sat on the couch, your kneeling with your feet under you as you had been when he left, you hadn't moved an inch.

The ache between your legs was more than uncomfortable and you knew if he didn't come back soon there was a very real possibility that he'd come back to you with your fingers rubbing at your swollen clit. 

As your will power was starting to fade even more so, he marched into the room, his face unreadable as he stopped not even a foot in front of you. 

You longed to reach out and touch him but he held a hand out to stop you as if he could read your thoughts.

"I spoke to Bucky." You nod in understanding, focused on the curve of his plush lips.

"He said that it's temporary, it'll be gone by morning." He continued. "What does it do?" Your voice shook slightly as Steve stood above you. So close, but you knew if you reached out he wouldn't let you touch him. An exasperated sigh left him as he ran his hand through his hair, "It doesn't matter. He's not even 100% certain." 

Tilting your head, you read the lie on his face. You'd gotten good at telling when Steve was lying, having learned his tell after many evenings of Poker with your boys.  He looked down at you and knew he was caught, your eyebrow raised as you said nothing, but continued to stare him down.  "He said... It was a desire thing. Unlocks... something or allows something. It was hard to focus on what he was saying."  Looking at the bulge still prominent in his jeans in front of you, you fought the urge to smirk. Yeah, you were sure it was hard.  "Is that enough proof?" You said slowly, now pulling yourself up to stand in the small space in front of him. He made no attempt to move back and for the first time, you thought about how he must be feeling the same way that you did. But he had stopped it. What a gentleman.  "Proof?" He swallowed. "If it... unlocks or allows... something... It has to be something you feel already, right? Is that not enough proof I desire you, Stevie?"  The resolve on his face was slowly dissolving as he looked down at you.  "I want you, Stevie. Please."  Just like that, his hands were on your ass as he lifted you into his arms, your arms and legs wrapping around him as you crashed your lips to each others.  You were vaguely aware Steve was walking, the two of you somewhere, but you honestly didn't care where so long as his lips stayed on yours.

[rosethesongbird]

Lady of the Lake Chapter II

Thanks all, for the love/likes/reblogs on Chapter I. You can read that aforementioned Chapter I here. 

If anyone has any suggestions for a title for this story, I’d love to hear them. 

-R

Epione rose from her place at the side of the bed. 

“Well, that’s that,�� she said, using the last clean rag to wipe her face. “Do you plan to stay the night with us, Witcher?”

“Not like I have a choice,” said Geralt, still focused on the smaller man asleep in the bed. 

“Of course you do,” said Epione, chuckling. “You just wouldn’t take it for anything else in the world.” 

Geralt turned to look at her, silently, his jaw set. She was hanging her apron, facing away from him. She was making herself vulnerable. She was not afraid. It was almost annoying to see, due to the fact that every nerve in his body was still screaming, his friend was in danger, and he just let a complete stranger cut him, on purpose. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said. “Although, it’s not the first time I’ve had daggers stared into my back. You just aren’t used to being read so easily. But that’s alright,” she turned to face him, stoking her fireplace. “I won’t tell a soul.” She smiled. 

“Hm.”

“Well, since you’re staying the night, you can choose your bed,” she said. “I usually sleep in the bed upstairs, it’s yours if you want it. I’ll be waking up every hour and a half or so to wake him, as counterproductive as that may seem, so I’ll sleep here. Of course, you can always choose to sleep down here with us, if you’d like.” She removed her overdress, revealing a simple cotton chemise. Her braid seemed to uncoil itself from the bun, reaching halfway down her back. “I will warn you, though, you’ll get more rest upstairs. And you look like you need it.” 

Geralt turned back to Jaskier, his hand now resting on the man’s chest. He felt like if he moved, Jaskier may stop breathing. But he was exhausted. The last hunt had not been kind to him, and this whole…situation came immediately after. 

“I…don’t get much sleep even on my best days,” he said, his voice coming out much more callous than his heart felt. 

“Well, tomorrow, we will go down to the Pool,” said the small woman, now sitting next to him. She cautiously placed her hand on his knee. “The waters are enchanted, and can assist with many things, insomnia included. They should speed up the healing process. He’ll still have to stay here for…well, three or four days to be safe,” she leaned down, turning her head until she was pushing her way in to Geralt’s line of sight. “For which I’m guessing I’ll have not one guest, but two,” she said, smirking. 

“I suppose so,” he said, rising. “I’m going to check on Roach.”

“I feel like a horse so beautiful should have a more beautiful name,” said Epione.  “Would you mind refilling this?” she handed him the bucket, full of water now filthy with blood and remnants of infection. “Oh, and,” she opened the cabinet, removing a small lump of sugar from a bag. “Give this to…Roach, and tell her she’s a very good girl,” 

Geralt smirked. She had no idea how good Roach really was. 

After updating Roach on the night’s events, he returned with the clean bucket.

The girl was already asleep. 

Jaskier’s bed had been fortified with more strategically placed pillows than Geralt could count, and the girl slept with a single pillow and small blanket on a cot next to the bed. 

There was a third cot, empty, with an extra pillow and blanket folded neatly on top of it, and a note. The note was written in neat, yet blocky script. She must usually write in runes. 

Witcher, Geralt of Rivia-

Thank you for your dutiful assistance to me and my patient. I’m sure I speak for both of us when I say it is greatly appreciated. 

Please, feel free to help yourself to the pantry, and adjust the fire to your liking. And expect a fresh, hot, homemade breakfast in the morning. It’s my pleasure.

-E

P.S. Please consider joining us in the Pool tomorrow. I think you will find it worthwhile.

—

Geralt jolted awake to the sound of a choked sob. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” 

The girl was already awake. A few strands of hair had fallen out of her braid during the night. The fire was smoldering, and the first light of dawn was coming in the window. He had to reluctantly admit to himself that the girl was right. He was exhausted. He had expected to wake every time she had risen, and instead had abandoned his companion by sleeping through the night. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” said Jaskier, wheezing, lips blue, face wet with tears. “I’m dying,” 

“You aren’t dying, songbird. I promise. I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“What’s going on?” 

“The infection spread to his chest before I could treat it,” said Epione, eyes bright despite the early hour. “Here, watch him for a minute,” she hopped off her cot, barefoot, nearly gliding over to the cupboard of medicines. “I can fix this but it’ll take me a moment. Oh, good morning, by the way.” 

“Yeah, what a great way to wake up, very…relaxing,” Geralt said, moving to the bard’s bedside. 

Epione scoffed. “Don’t take this out on me, Witcher,” her speech was muffled, a vial of herbs in her hand and the cork in her mouth. “It helps not a single one of us, and especially not him.” 

“Sorry, I just…Fuck. Nevermind.” 

“Geralt?” Jaskier broke into a fit of coughing. Wet coughing. Epione tossed a rag on Geralt’s cot. Blood began seeping from Jaskier’s parted lips. His face was so pale it almost appeared gray. 

“Hey, uh… you’re going to be fine,” said the witcher. This felt so…tender. He owed it to Jaskier, for all the times he had insisted on patching up Geralt after a rough fight, or a rougher break-up. He realized that he was wiping the blood from his lips, and gripping his hand. The gesture came naturally, seemingly from a part of Geralt’s heart he didn’t himself have access to. Jaskier was shaking like a leaf in autumn wind. He was gasping for breath. 

“I thought… I was dreaming,” he said, throat seized, with fear or with sickness; Geralt didn’t know. 

“What did you dream?” 

“Geralt of Rivia caring to hear my dream,” Jaskier laid back into the pillow. “Now I know it is a dream,” he laughed, a humorless laugh, that swiftly became another coughing fit. 

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt growled. “Stay awake, this is real,” his piercing golden eyes trained on the soft blue ones before him, feeling like if he looked long enough it would keep the other man from falling asleep again.

“I was dreaming, that…” the blue eyes closed in a grimace of pain. An arched back. A keening whine. “…There was, this woman, and I was so afraid, but when I looked at her, it was like I knew, everything was okay,” the eyes opened, soft, raspy speech broken by heaving, rattling breaths. “It felt like, she was,” the eyes closed again, seeking for a word. 

“An angel?” said Epione, appearing at Geralt’s side, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Drink, love,” she tipped a glass to his lips. “Drink and rest.” Her other hand moved Geralt’s to the glass. She met eyes with him. The soft green communicated “I know, and I care.”

Not a sentiment Geralt was used to meeting. 

—

Upon finishing the drink, Jaskier immediately calmed, apparently content with doing nothing but staring half-lidded at the ceiling. He was moving his lips, but no sound came out, and it didn’t seem concerning to him, so it wasn’t concerning to Geralt. 

He leaned back onto the cot, training his ears to the sound of the bard’s breathing slowing down and evening out. He tried to calm himself enough to sense more than his own uncharacteristically quick heartbeat. 

The scent of the fireplace, glowing, complimented by the scent of many loaves of bread long past.

Jaskier’s scent, flowery, sullied by illness and weakened by blood loss, but his.

And a third scent, like salty seawater, and something else. Something hard, unyielding, but natural.

The girl sighed and sat on his cot. The smell was seawater and granite, eroding, beaten over and over by eons of tides. 

“Some say it’s because we are from Sirens,” she said, unprompted. She had put on her overdress, and the braid was back in its conservative bun.

“What?”

“Everything. Our smell, our lake, our eyes,” The light of the rising sun made her skin appear as orange as her hair. “The women in my family have tended this place for centuries. Legend has it that whatever in our blood that isn’t human is from a Siren. A long time ago, Sirens and men got along.” 

She rose from the cot. “But, you know that already, don’t you.” Another sigh, when Geralt didn’t respond, thinking.

“Fresh eggs for breakfast? How does that sound? I’m sure the chickens have laid something,” 

“Fine,” said Geralt. 

The healer began to pull on her leather shoes and leave. 

“Epione?” she turned with a questioning look. “Thank you,” said Geralt. “What…payment…will you require?” 

“Your thanks is enough,” she said, her lips pursed in a suppressed smile. “Coin is only good for the good it can do.” 

The door closed behind her, and Geralt and Jaskier were alone.

—

Jaskier’s voice rose to a whisper. Geralt was about to shush him, try to get him to rest, when he realized what he was saying.

Her current is pulling you closer

And charging the hot, humid night 

The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool

Better stay out of sight

“She’s missing verse two, Jaskier, she left,” said Geralt, quietly. He put his hand on his companion’s cheek. “You’ll have to sing it for her when she comes back,” 

Jaskier’s eyes shut tightly. His voice rose even more, cracked, raspy, disused, but audible.

I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting 

A tear tracked its way down his cheek, pallid, soft. 

If this is the path I must trudge

I welcome my sentence

Give to you my penance

Garrotter, jury, and judge

Epione cracked open the door slowly, basket of eggs in tow. She began humming softly, along with Jaskier’s lyrics; soft dulcet tones despite recent trauma. Geralt closed his eyes, taking in the scene, comfortably…domestic. 

The song was broken up by the sound of an egg suddenly sizzling on a hot pan. 

—

“Eat, Geralt,” said the woman, pushing a plate of eggs into his hands. “I have some soup for our ‘invalid,’ if he wakes before it’s time to venture out,” she smiled.

“Was I asleep?” Geralt rubbed his eyes. Jaskier was mostly still, except for the soft rise and fall of his chest.

“I think so,” she said. “Either that or lost in thought, maybe.” 

Jaskier stirred, groaning. His eyes shut tight before opening, clearing the remnants of sleep. 

“Hey, Jaskier,” said Geralt. “How are you feeling?” 

He thought for a moment. His brow furrowed. “Like shit,” he said. Across the room, Epione let out the purest laugh Geralt had heard since they had met mere hours earlier. 

“Welcome back,” he said, smiling.

He tried to rise, sucking in air and clutching his right side. “Owww, Geralt,” he whined. “What did you do?” 

“What did I do? How is this my fault, bard?” He shook his head, already exasperated. It was an odd feeling, to be happy that you are annoyed.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just that whenever something is deeply wrong with me, it has something to do with this guy I can’t stop hanging out with that has this whole ‘monster fighting’ thing going on,” said Jaskier, shaking hands gesturing to the best of their ability. 

“You can blame it on me, songbird,” said Epione. “I’m sure your witcher would have stopped me if he had any other choice.” She sat down with the wooden bowl, half full of broth. 

“Well hello there, fair lady,” he said. “Do we know each other?” 

“I’ve seen your insides, so I suppose so,” she said with a smirk, holding the spoon to his lips. “Now hush and let the grown-ups talk, my dear,” she chuckled. 

Jaskier opened his mouth in protest, only to be met with a mouthful of broth. 

Chapter III here!

[tact-and-impulse]

Shinkane Week Day 4

I love how it’s essentially canon that Kougami’s the only one who tolerates and likes her cooking.

Prompt: Sweetness

“I’m so grateful you’re taking care of the house, Acchan. But I do feel bad that you won’t be with your friends during your summer break.”

Akane moved the phone to her other hand as she took off her shoes. “It’s okay, Kaori’s busy with her internship and Yuki’s going to be overseas. Just focus on getting better, Obaa-chan.”

“Yes. Oh, and don’t forget to leave some wagashi on the front porch.”

“Eh? What for?”

“For the youkai, of course!”

She wryly smiled. “Obaa-chan, you still believe in that superstition?”

“It doesn’t hurt. And I still haven’t forgotten how you survived falling in the river, when you couldn’t swim. Something must have rescued you.”

“That was a long time ago. Your accident was much more recent.”

“Well, my injuries could have been worse. The nurse is here, so I have to hang up. Good night, Acchan.”

“Good night.”

She finished unpacking first, assuming there’d be mochi or konpeito lying around. However, she was soon proven wrong. She looked in the refrigerator, then the cupboards, with growing concern. How strange, there weren’t any sweets left. Well, she could probably make some instead. Obaa-chan had plenty of cookbooks, and she was good at following instructions. She rolled up her sleeves and set to work.

***

“Finished it off again, huh?” She couldn’t help smiling as she looked at the empty plate on the porch. Over the past week, she had made yokan, leaving a handful of cubes out every night. And every morning, they were gone. She assumed some animal must have eaten them, but she was growing fond of whatever it was. It had a good appetite; nothing was left behind.

As she was hanging the laundry out to dry, she noticed something strange. A misshapen indent in the ground. Drawing closer, she slowly realized it was a footprint.

It looks like a dog’s, but it’s very big. If one paw is bigger than my hands…

Aware that she was alone in the countryside, she desperately looked around. Dense foliage met her gaze. But…other than the footprint, there were no other signs of a large creature. Perhaps, it was a youkai. Akane pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh at herself. She was being silly for even entertaining such a thought.

Nevertheless, she decided to switch it up.

In the middle of the night, Akane woke to a dry throat. She poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen and for some reason, she thought of checking the plate of dango. Groggily, she made her way through the dark house and opened the door to the porch.

What she saw instantly dispelled her sleepiness. In the yard, a weasel was lying belly up, pink tongue lolling out. A fox urgently patted its face.

But Akane was drawn to the figure sitting on the porch. He was strikingly handsome in the moonlight. One hand held a half-eaten skewer, and sharp teeth gleamed as he bit into the syrupy dumplings. A fluffy black tail swished in the air, brushing the fabric of his dark gray yukata.

The fox gave a mournful cry and it almost sounded human. “Kagari!!!”

“Oi, Gino, quiet down.” Then, the stranger looked at her, and pointed canine ears perked up above his wayward hair. “Ah…”

Akane grasped the sliding door, needing something to anchor herself. This was real, this was actually happening. “Are you…a youkai?”

“Yeah. Are you the one who’s been making the wagashi?” He finished off the dango.

“Only this past week.” She dazedly replied. “My grandmother’s usually the one who leaves them out, but I’m taking care of the house in her absence. But um, is there something wrong with your friend?” She pointed to the fallen weasel.

“He’s fainted!” The fox glared at her. “What did you put in those dumplings?!”

“Oh, you can talk!” Akane blinked in surprise. “And I just tweaked the recipe. I didn’t have enough ginger so I added horseradish.”

“That’s it! The wasabi. Kagari can’t handle spicy food.”

“Is that so? Should I add milk?”

“Mi…why?!”

The only one eating interjected, licking syrup off his fingers. Akane had trouble focusing as he said. “Gino, calm down. Her cooking’s just fine.”

“Well, now I can’t change back because I had one too. Seriously, Kougami, how are you alright and maintaining human form?”

“What’s the matter with you?” He retorted. “The wagashi taste great.”

Akane blushed, but the fox grabbed the weasel by the scruff. With one last glare, the two vanished into the undergrowth.

“Don’t mind them. Gino’s a stickler for tradition, even though the offerings don’t mean anything. It’s not like we’ll starve if we don’t have them and our group will protect this area regardless.”

She mulled over his words. “If it’s not to promote good fortune, why do you eat the sweets?”

“Anybody can appreciate a snack. Plus, it’s nice to know that our existences haven’t been forgotten. By the way, I’m Kougami. The fox is Ginoza and the weasel is Kagari.”

“I’m Tsunemori Akane. I’m here for the summer, for the first time in years. As long as I’m staying in this house, I won’t forget the wagashi for all of you.” She watched him polish off the last skewer.

He wiped his mouth and bowed his head. “Thank you for the dango. You probably won’t see us around but just know we’re nearby.”

“Then, that makes us neighbors. I hope to meet everyone again soon.” And she meant it.

His smile was surprisingly gentle. He stepped off the porch, and his figure transformed in a flash. One moment, he was a man. The next, he was a massive black wolf, easily towering above her. In a single leap, he crossed the yard and sprinted deeper within the forest.

How could she possibly sleep after such an encounter?

***

She never told Obaa-chan; it was better that her grandmother recover without distractions. Akane was also becoming more self-sufficient. One morning at dawn, she finally gathered enough courage to traverse the mountainside, resting a woven basket on her hip. A familiar river ran adjacent to the worn path and she gave it a wide berth.

A shadow rose from the water with a loud splash. She recognized Kougami in his partly human form; only this time, he was shirtless from the waist up. His hakama clung to his legs, and he ran a hand through his drenched hair. Water droplets slid over his well-defined abdominal muscles. When he caught her gaze, she almost dropped her basket.

“Tsunemori! Are you here to cool off too?”

She shook her head. “I was looking for wild herbs. I can’t swim. It’s probably because of my bad memory associated with this river.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? What happened?”

“When I was little, I was ‘adventuring’ and fell in. I don’t remember much of it, but I held onto something. Whatever it was, it was solid enough. I was pulled out of the water and carried home, because the next thing I knew, I was on the porch and my family was rushing to me.”

He was giving her a rather contemplative stare, but before she could ask, he turned away. “I’m a little hungry. I’m off to go hunting.”

“Do you hunt people, Kougami-san?” Maybe that was a childish question, though he tossed a smirk in her direction.

“No, I prefer burgers over people. See you later.” In a flash, he was a wolf again and bounded away. Her grandmother did think her savior was a youkai and now that she met a few…Obaa-chan could be right. But that didn’t mean Kougami was that youkai.

In the evening, she set out a plate of cream puffs, flavored with some of the mint she had harvested. Her attempt at Western sweets wasn’t too bad to look at, and it wasn’t long before Kougami visited. He immediately shoved a cream puff into his mouth and gave her a thumbs up.

“I’m happy they turned out well. It’s a shame no one else came with you tonight.” She noted.

“They all had things to do. Well, more for me. I like your sweets.” Kougami enthusiastically swallowed another cream puff.

Akane beamed. “Thank you! I’ll definitely make more.”

Anmitsu, pudding, daifuku, melon bread. The possibilities were suddenly endless, and her summer vacation seemed a lot more exciting.

[greatwrath]

Also, I feel like the situation with my roommate is making it harder and harder to be motivated. And it’s all come to a head since the virus arrived in the city, because now I have to stay home with her every day all day. I’m going to explain what’s going on fully under the cut.

So my roommate, who was one of my ‘best friends’ up until the end of the first month we lived together, has turned about to be like Patrick Bateman from American Pyscho. She stands in the bathroom mirror for hours, with all these face masks on, brushing her hair, charcoaling her teeth, chugging Listerine, using powdered bleach on everything. I’m talking like four hours a day spent in the bathroom. She does laundry every day—today, she has done three loads of laundry during the peak hours. Yesterday she did two. 

She lies about everything without hesitation, from the most trivial things to really big things. Like, for example. my other roommate asked her if she had a salt lamp, and we knew she did have one because I had seen it, and the fucking box was in the laundry cupboard, but she said ‘no’ without missing a beat. Or she told us that it wasn't her tampering with the thermostat and turning it up to crazy temperatures, and that it was just the thermostat doing it automatically, even though the ONLY way a holding temperature can be set is by a person.

Then there’s the worrying shit. Just a few hours ago, my dog made this screaming noise, the noise he makes when he is in pain, and she claimed she didn't touch him, but there’s no way he would make that noise without being hurt in some way. 

In the summer, she put radishes down the sink, which caused a massive blockage in the pipes. She turned the dishwasher on and all the water backed up, causing a flood around midnight. It went all over the kitchen, down into the basement, whereupon I had to clean up sewage. And she was laughing and worrying about washing the towels, not helping fix the problem or anything. When we fixed it and got all the food out of the pipes, she said ‘Oh, I guess the food goes down the sink’. And I thought, WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU THINK IT WENT? But she hasn't learned. Now the sink is frequently filled with marshmallows, which I have to get out.

Then, myself and my other roommate, who is my platonic soulmate, went to the UK, where I was born and raised. While we were away, the bad roommate called the police, because a bag had been moved from the stair bannister to the floor, and she believed that the neighbours were watching her through the windows. We had added locks to our doors before leaving because we didn't trust her, so naturally, the police unlocked the doors to check our rooms for intruders. There were none there, but she took the opportunity to rifle through our stuff.

She listens to Phantom of the Opera by Lindsey Stirling on repeat out loud, over and over. She has eight alarms in the morning, on two different devices. She likes to stand in the upstairs landing, in the dark, and eavesdrop on our conversations. She sits upstairs, in the dark again, and glares at us in a really creepy way as we pass. Left alone, she will bleach things, like minor imperfections, and make an even bigger mess. She monopolizes space, like the linen closet, the entire upstairs room, the fridge, the tea cupboard. She thinks she can flirt with bus drivers to get free trips. She covers her body in ‘Aztec Secret’ face mask (the world’s strongest face mask). She sometimes walks around naked. She eats whole loaves of bread, plain. A boy in our college class was considering getting a restraining order against her, because she wanted to know where he was and what he was doing all the time, and she wouldn't stop texting him. People in our class didn't like her because she insisted on dictating the seating arrangement day by day. She was in conflict mediation with her roommate in college because she wanted the thermostat set at 28°C (82 degrees Fahrenheit), but the roommate was finding it physically hard to live there, which I only recently learned. She outed me as a lesbian to her sister and mother, in front of me. She is so passive-aggressive it’s fucking inconceivable, like she came down the other night and stood in the kitchen for twenty seconds, during which time her phone was playing ‘Fuck You’ by Lily Allen. She stood there for just the ‘Fuck you, fuck you very much’ and then she walked off upstairs again. The list is fucking endless.

This person is not right, and I feel like I’m living in a nightmare, because every day I wake up and find something weirder than before, and she insists nothing happened. So we have to write down what happens just so we have evidence that this shit has happened. We are resigning the lease without her, and she is due to be out at the end of April, but christ, it’s awful to be isolated in the house with her throughout the day. I just want her gone. I don’t want to be afraid for my Dog, afraid of the bills that always reflect her insane water/gas/electricity consumption habits, afraid of what I’ll find, afraid of what she’ll do and of what she’ll try to take when she moves. 

It’s been a fucking year, my friends, and I hope it gets better once she’s out of our lives. 

[kondraki]

Any interesting drama recently? Let's have the tea about what's been up recently

Oh, you know. Same old, same old.

The DIE SHAFT is still up to its old tricks.

Someone has been stealing stationery from several storage cupboards and we’re beginning to suspect that it’s more than one person. Recently one of the janitors discovered an unused office that was full to the brim of pen packets and other kinds of basic office stationary but forensics have not managed to find any fingerprints.

There was a small fire in the cafeteria kitchens which resulted in several of the big industrial ovens shutting down for a week, and there was no bread at all which was just awful.

This fire also shut down the big industrial dishwasher and we all were served on paper plates for a week; now it’s fixed the dishwashers don’t want to go back to dishwashing and want us to all keep the paper plates, but several employees are protesting because of the harm being done to the environment by paper wastage and also the plastic cutlery.

Again to do with the environment, plastic straws were recently banned. Paper straws were the replacement. They’re gross and there’s a plastic straw smuggling ring now. It’s harder to get hold of a plastic straw than weed right now.

A group of employees had some kind of writing club but there was a major disagreement (the details of which I’m still not sure about) and the club has split into several factions, all of which are at war with the others. Some people are members of two or several clubs and are caught in the crossfire. The last I checked, literal espionage was going on (clubs were sending members into other clubs to report back as spies) and they’ve taken to “raiding” one another’s meetings like some kind of horrific IRL 4chan raid. It’s embarrassing for everyone aside from those involved, who are taking it, in my opinion, far too seriously for a bunch of grown adults with doctorates.

Big massive drama when several security guards were caught in a break room doing cocaine at 1am. 

Someone ordered a box of clown wigs for some kind of department fancy dress party but they fucked up the order and we ended up with about 100 boxes of clown wigs so now pretty much everyone has one and the entire site looks much more like what it actually is: a fucking circus.

A hero, a god among men, a saviour, has set up a cocktail bar in their quarters. It’s fully stocked and despite our efforts we cannot tell who said person is. They appear behind the bar when you need a drink and cannot be found otherwise. Trying to find the room outside of Happy Hour is impossible. We all agree that this is probably anomalous activity, but we are not reporting it just yet. The cocktails are just too good.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Christmas in New York - Part One

Characters: Thor & Y/N, Loki

Summary: Y/N is clouded by her love for her boss, Brock Rumlow, but is that about to change?

Prompt:  The Holiday

Word Count: 3k

Beta: @princessmisery666​​ - thank you lovely! (All mistakes are my own though).

A/N: This is a part of @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​​ challenge - I don’t know how this turned into a mini series but here we are... Hope you enjoy! Feedback is golden, tags are open!

Christmas in New York Series List

Previously...

Y/N’s thumb hovered over the email for a second then opened it; she was greeted to a beautiful view of woodlands and a lake, the images moved to show a log cabin that needed a little love then back to more breathtaking views. She scanned the email, making sure to read the small print, then clicked to enter.

What an escape that would be…

Two Months Later…

Y/N slumped against her couch, her neatly pressed attire now creased and crumpled, as she sunk lower into the cushions, after a long day . Twenty applications, three interviews and one rejection later, she had sent herself into a spiral of self-deprecation and worry. 

On occasion, the thought of approaching Brock flickered across her mind but she immediately straightened herself out. With a heavy sigh, Y/N lifted her phone to check for any email updates on her recent applications. Nothing. 

She dropped her phone beside her, rolled her eyes and let her head fall back to the cushions. Why did I quit before finding another job?! You idiot, she chastised herself before she pushed away from the cushions and stood up with a stretch of her limbs.

Ping, ping!

Y/N grabbed her phone and headed towards the kitchen when an excitable scream ripped through the apartment as she read the notification.

Win a Holiday: Congratulations Y/N! New York Awaits!

She spun around, did a little wiggle of her hips and shoulders and then fist pumped the air. Finally some good news. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she thought of all the possibilities of where this could take her. A couple of jumps up and down later, she sat at the kitchen island and began to read through the email thoroughly, again and again to make sure it wasn’t a hoax.

Y/N immediately text Wanda to meet for dinner at the weekend.

The lights strung around the posts twinkled against the darkened sky, the smell of spices wafted through the cool air and the hushed chatter accompanied by soft melodies brought the small tapas bar to life. Y/N and Wanda sat in the courtyard, they nibbled at their plates of food and sipped wine in between their conversation.

Wanda’s red locks glowed against the fairy lights and a devilish smirk appeared, she placed her glass down and gripped onto your arm, “So what’s this exciting news you’ve got for me? Another interview? A new job? Did you have sex? You’ve met someone?” 

Y/N shook her head, her grin grew with each guess as Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed in failure and thoughts flickered across her eyes. The last two months hadn’t been easy, Wanda had been Y/N’s shoulder to cry on when interviews resulted in rejections, applications went unanswered and her unemployment continued. Wanda had been the one to talk Y/N out of calling Brock and asking for her job back. It was nice to see Wanda excited that she finally had some good news to share. 

She leant forward to whisper, “Are you pregnant?!”

With wide eyes, Y/N choked on her bite, “No! God, no!”

Y/N passed her phone and showed her the congratulatory email detailing the prize she had won,  a Trip to New York. She watched Wanda read, her brow twitched and then her lips bloomed into a smile.

“This is amazing! Where will you be staying?”

Y/N scrolled to the bottom of the email and tapped the screen, “In a cabin, in the countryside.”

“A cabin!”

The other patrons all turned to stare at the outburst from Wanda, they both apologised and carried on with their meal and discussion. Y/N had decided long before meeting with Wanda that she would be going, regardless of where she was going to be staying. 

New York was an incredible distance away from LA but it gave her the opportunity to escape and possibly find other jobs in a different place. Y/N would be out of the reach of Brock, the failure of her job hunting and be able to move on with her life. If she wanted too, and that was good enough for her to be ready to leave.

“For how long?”

“A month, the place is fully stocked with food for at least two weeks. I’ve already handed in my notice on the apartment, a new tenant has already snapped it up.”

“What if you don’t come back…Will I see you again?” Wanda’s eyes brimmed with tears as she pulled Y/N into a hug.

“Of course! How dare you think our lunch dates are over just because we are a few hours apart. Regardless of the way things are going, I fully expect you to come and visit me after Christmas if I find a job. And that’s only a month away.”

The farewell gift from Wanda was perfect; a matching set of gloves and scarf. The change in weather was to be expected but Y/N didn’t expect how drastic. Her breath misted and swirled into the sky as she lugged her suitcase up the wooden staircase and onto the porch of the cabin. Hat, fluffy socks… She made a mental note and thought of how she doubted she would ever get used to the nearly freezing temperatures, especially at nine in the morning.

Y/N finally took in her surroundings; the cabin was surrounded by woodland, the trees were almost bare, apart from the spruces, covered in a slight frost. And they must be near a lake from what Y/N could see from the coach ride to the small town and the boat shed peeking from the back corner of the cabin.

Silence. The weight of LA drifted off of Y/N’s shoulders and into the New York countryside. 

The tiredness she’d felt from the flight and the days of packing and organizing leading up to her departure dissipated and excitement filled her bones. She spun around and opened the front door, dragged her suitcase behind her and was welcomed to a quaint living room of leather and fur, a large fireplace with a few logs stacked beside. The stone of the chimney loomed upwards, a prominent and majestic feature, flanked by windows out into the wild.

The wood panels echoed with warmth and guided Y/N’s line of sight to the stairs leading up to an open planned bedroom. Her stomach grumbled and she sought the kitchen. It was bigger than she had expected, with a space for dining and a reading nook by the window, opposite the french doors onto a decked area. Y/N’s stomach grumbled again, she opened the cupboards to find tins of soup and bread. Perfect, she smiled to herself.

With her hunger sated, Y/N grabbed her suitcase, ready to unpack and explore the upper floor of the cabin. The stairs creaked faintly under her foot as she ascended, and when she reached the top a gasp escaped her lips. The large bed was dressed with cushions stacked against the pillows, a blanket draped across one of the corners but what had made her gasp was the view that her bed faced. Floor to ceiling windows within an iron grid showed the wild beauty of the forest. Y/N was enraptured of the neverending view of the bare and snowy trees, the birds that scattered the skyline and the warm glow of the sun as it hung low above the lake in the distance.

With the sky clear, not a cloud insight, Y/N freshened up in the en-suite bathroom that was connected through a door beside the bed. She immediately felt the warmth on the soles of her feet from the tiles. Underfloor heating?!, Y/N all but squealed in excitement. The waterfall style shower was too perfect, and when she wrapped the fluffy white towel around her body, it was like heaven.

Y/N scrambled into her clothes; jeans, a t-shirt and hoodie then pushed her feet into the knee high boots. With a roll of her shoulders, she grabbed her jacket, scarf and gloves as she headed out the door for a three mile walk to the lake. She glanced at her watch, Two pm, a few hours before sundown. 

Forty-five minutes, the tourist guide for Pinnacle Trail in a kitchen drawer had said. An hour and a half later and she still hadn’t reached the lake. As the sun began to set, the trees started to turn from a snowy fairytale to something of a nightmare as the branches weaved into the sky and blocked some of the light.

Everything is fine, Y/N repeated to herself as she glanced around the forest, the trees seemed to close in on her and the sky darkened with clouds and the nearly faded sun. Panic slowly seeped into her as snow flurried around her, her breath formed in the air as she panted and scurried between the trees to get back to the cabin.

Y/N saw a small dark shadow to her left, fear grew and she dived behind a tree. She peered round to see the shadow in the form of a wolf. Y/N clamped her hand over her mouth and watched, eyes wide, as the shadow grew and bounded through the trees towards her. Y/N held her breath as the shadow reached the final tree line before the small amount of light showed a dog.

She exhaled in relief and the dog’s ears pricked up at the sound. Their eyes locked and they slowly edged towards one another. The dog’s nose twitched and sniffed out towards Y/N, who extended her hand in return. She remained still as allowing the dog to sniff her  fingertips, her patience was rewarded with a with a tentative lick of her palm, the dog’s tail wagged in response and his brown eyes sparkled.. A laugh burst out of her as she stroked the dog’s back and scratched his ears.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice echoed through the trees. “Loki, come here boy!”

The small amount of settled snow crunched under his boots, his eyes strained in the darkening sky and the flurries that surrounded him. After a few more calls, Thor spotted Loki trotting alongside a woman, a beautiful woman. Thor’s smile grew as his dog bounded towards him and lifted back onto his hind legs in excitement, his tongue hung outside his mouth as he leapt around him.

Thor encircled his large arms around the dog’s neck, “Loki, you’ve got to stop running off and-” He spotted the woman that stood awkwardly in the tree line, “Thank you so much. He didn’t hurt you? He’s friendly but a little mischievous, doesn’t know his own strength.”

He looked expectantly at Y/N who seemed distracted by his presence, he flashed her a small smile and nod before he outstretched his hand.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting, well um-yeah, no that’s okay,” Y/N stammered her way through the sentence and reached her hand out to his, “I’m Y/N, and no, he gave me a little fright but he was a good companion.”

Thor chuckled and then noticed her attire; light jacket and suede boots, “You’re not from around here are you?”

Y/N giggled in response, “No, I’m not, what gave it away? The poor choice in shoes?” she lifted her boots that were soaked through from the snow, “or that I am completely lost?”

“Well yes, but I was going to say that you’re posture is very rigid like most city dwellers.” Thor berated himself internally as soon as his words came out. He watched her eyes widened at his comment and the immediate shift in her demeanor. If she wasn’t rigid before, she is now.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Thor raised his eyebrow at her, in the hope that she saw that it was with sincerity rather than mocking.

“I’m staying at a cabin near the Huddle Brook river, just before the Bolton conservation area?”

Thor nodded and gave her a half smile, “May I ask, where were you trying to go in the dark?”

“I was going to walk the Pinnacle Trail and then to the lake. I think I took a wrong turn, but then I met this guy.” Y/N patted Loki’s head.

“You’re way off! Let me take you back, I know where you’re staying.” Thor gestured towards the path.

Thor noticed the way Y/N’s breath hitched at his words and he realised that he must have sounded like a stalker but then she beamed at him and he never wanted her to look any other way.

“Thank you, I’d really appreciate that.”

Loki weaved between them as they strolled down the path. Thor glanced down to Y/N and watched her thoughts scatter across her face. He stifled a laugh and as she was about to speak Thor opened the door to a red pick up truck. Loki jumped into the cab, and then Thor held out his gloved hand for Y/N to help her climb into the seat. 

Y/N glanced up at him, her eyes were framed in sparkles as the snow melted on her lashes. Thor wanted to move closer, to kiss those lips that smiled at him. He withdrew his hand quickly but immediately regretted it as she flinched away from the sudden movement.

Idiot, now you’ve gone and scared her, Thor scolded himself and jogged to the other side of the truck.

Y/N was able to get a better view of her saviour now that he was beside her and his concentration on the road. If she hadn’t been paying attention to the man driving, she would have noticed the sky swiftly fade to darkness and the sparkle of stars but she studied the man’s face. She was captivated by the lines that framed his eyes as he smiled when his dog nuzzled against his arm and how his beard was neat yet gave him a rugged look.

“Oh my, I don’t even know your name!” She gasped, the dog now alert from the sound.

A hearty laugh burst through the silence, “I’m Thor, nice to meet you Y/N.”

“What like the viking God?” The words tumbled from her lips without a thought.

Thor’s face dropped and Y/N noticed his jaw tense and his brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry that was rude of me,” Y/N focused on the hem of her jacket and fiddled with a loose thread.

A loud noise echoed through the cab and she looked up at the man in shock, he slapped the steering wheel once more before he chuckled, “You’re not the first to ask me that. My mum was very interested in Norse mythology. Hence, Loki here too.”

Thor patted the head of the dog in the middle seat, Y/N followed his hand as he stroked the dog. His large hands that were so gentle against the animal. Imagine what those hands could do to you… Her thoughts sent a rush of blood to her cheeks, she bit her lip as she redirected her thoughts to the trees that passed as they drove along the winding road.

“Here we are,” Thor announced as he turned down the drive to the cabin.

A click of the buckle and Y/N scrambled out of the cab with a jump from the seat to the ground. Loki followed and sprinted up the porch, he sat and waited by the door with his head cocked.

“Sorry buddy, you have to go back to-” Y/N turned around to point to Thor’s truck when she collided with his chest.

Thor gripped her arms and steadied her balance, their eyes locked onto one another. Loki barked and Thor dropped his hands. She already missed the warmth of them but took a step back.

“Thank you for driving me home.” Y/N tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and scuffed her boot on the porch.

“Not a problem. And now you know to get some decent footwear and maybe a map?”

A blush crept up her face and she glanced up to see Thor’s wide smile. I’d love to stroke that face, that beard would feel good against… Y/N coughed and turned to Loki and stroked his head, “Goodnight boy, and you, Thor.”

Thor nodded, and with a wave, he descended the porch steps, “See you around, Y/N.”

The cold air hit Y/N, her body shivered from her feet in the snow-drenched boots to the tip of her icy nose. She flicked on the lights, pulled off her gloves and sprinted towards the stone chimney. She looked at the logs, the matches and then the fireplace.

What do I do?! She realised that she had never lit a fire in her entire life.

Y/N ran back to the front door and onto the porch to see Thor hadn’t left yet, relief washed over her as he stepped out of the truck, concern etched on his face.

“Thor, wait! I don’t know how to get the fire started, can you-”

“Of course.” He grinned and ushered Loki to follow.

Thor and Loki entered the cabin, the dog immediately bounded in and onto the armchair. He curled up and rested his head on the arm. Y/N chuckled and handed over the firestarters to Thor as they walked around the couch.

“You should take your clothes off.” Thor commented as he placed logs and some paper into the fireplace. At Y/N’s lack of response, he turned to find her wide eyed. “You’re soaked, you need to change if you ever want to get warm.”

“Oh right, yes that makes sense.” She ascended the staircase behind them, you idiot, of course he didn’t mean for him.

Y/N returned to the living room in a set of pajamas and as she approached a warmth bloomed across her skin from the flames, and in her chest as joined Thor and Loki on the rug at the hearth.

Continue 

[accidentally-logince]

Alrighty, so I’m actually writing the “Criminals adopt a kid” story from the beginning, and it has a plot and all, but over the past few days I’ve been writing this, so I’m gonna share it because even though it is in the final story, it’s a bit different in there

Warnings for guns, crying, and yelling

Word Count: 4k

---

Axel woke up that morning to an empty van. It was normal for one of his dads to be out, but to have them both gone, especially before he woke up? That was strange. Not that it hadn't happened before, but the occasions were definitely far and in between. He stuck his tongue out, blowing out a breath. He would have to make his own breakfast, since neither Winter nor Ronen had left a note saying when they would be back. He rummaged around in the cupboards to find some bread and peanut butter. 

It wasn't a feast--none of their meals usually were anyways, but Axel also didn't know how to cook. He sat down in the corner, leaning against the wall as he ate, listening for noise outside that would indicate that they were almost back, only to be pulled from his thoughts by a buzz from the front seat. 

Stuffing the rest of the bread into his mouth, he crawls over to grab Ronen's phone. Winter always insisted he didn't have one--for what reason, Axel didn't know--but Ronen wouldn't get rid of it. On the screen, a pop-up notification had appeared for a text message, from someone named "$$$". Axel doesn't quite know why that would be their name, but he ignores that and moves on to read the message.

It takes a little while to read--Ronen and Axel hadn't gotten too far in Axel's reading lessons--but after a few minutes he deciphers that the text says "I've got a job for you two, if you want the cash."

Axel's brow furrows, and he puts the phone down. He doesn't want to respond to the message himself, because he doesn't know what it means, and because he doesn't know Ronen's phone code. But he can figure out that they might be running low on money, if the name and message were anything to go by. He would have to ask one of them once they got back.

Speaking of which, Axel could hear footsteps, and the van door swings open. His dads hop in, and Winter climbs into the front seat, ruffling Axel's hair as he goes by. "Hey there Guppy," he says, turning to the wheel and pressing his foot down harshly on the gas.

"Hi Daddy," Axel says, turning around to see Ronen plop down onto the mattress. Axel stumbles over as the van lurches forward, falling down onto his stomach next to Ronen. "Where did you guys go?"

Ronen's head turns to meet Axel's eyes, and he smiles. "Just had to run a couple errands this morning. Sorry if we scared you by leaving you alone, Guppy, we thought we'd be back sooner." He lifts a hand and pokes Axel's cheek.

Axel giggles, swatting at Ronen's hand. His laughing tapers off, and his eyes look down at the blanket for a moment, frowning. "Papa? Are we running out of money?"

Ronen laughs, sitting up. "What? Axel, what are you talking about?"

"There was a message on your phone," Axel says. "I know I'm not s'pposed to read them, but..." He trails off as he tries and fails to think of a reason that he could have possibly broken the rule. Ronen goes quiet, and he pushes himself to his feet, moving to the front of the van and grabbing his phone, pausing for a moment to look out the window.

After his eyes scan the message, his lips press together, and Axel sees his mouth move, and Winter turn to him. Ronen lets Winter read the message too, and his eyebrows shoot up, and they both turn around to look at Axel, who sits confused on the mattress. Winter turns back to Ronen and scowls at him, his lips moving quickly. Axel can't hear what they're saying. Were they fighting?

Axel watches Ronen frown as Winter turns back to the road, checking out the window again before moving back to sit with Axel again. He tries to give him a smile, but Axel can see strain in the lines of his eyes. "We're doing good, Guppy, I promise. It's an adult problem, so you don't need to worry, got it?"

"Okay," Axel says, but he knows he won't stop worrying about it. If his dads were allowed to be upset about it, then shouldn't he be allowed, too?

---

Ronen bites his thumb nail as Winter paces in the grass. He's worried it down to the skin, and he pulls his hand from his mouth as the exposed skin starts to sting, leaning his head against the door of the van. The two had decided to discuss the message from that morning after Axel went to sleep, but now that he was passed out on the mattress, it was still hard to start talking.

"We knew we couldn't keep it from him forever," Ronen says quietly.

Winter sighs, frustrated. "He doesn't know yet. He just saw a message. Which he wouldn't have even seen if you didn't insist on keeping that phone on you." He looks like he's going to say something else, but he just sighs again, running a hand through his hair. "As long as he doesn't know, we don't have too much to worry about."

"No, I think we have to tell him."

Winter whirls around, eyes wide. "You're joking, right?" he asks, his voice high. "He is a child! How is he meant to grow up normally if his main role models are criminals?"

Ronen raises an eyebrow. "I hate to break it to you, Winter, but we're criminals even if we don't tell him."

"Well if he doesn't know, then he won't follow in our footsteps. That's all I'm worried about."

Sighing, Ronen drags a hand over his face. "There's no way we can keep it from him forever. The sooner we tell him, the easier he'll take it, we can't wait forever. And if he finds out on his own, there's no way he can trust us after that."

Winter lets out an agitated growl, ducking his head and running his hands through his hair again. "Ugh... I hate that you're right." Ronen pushes off of the side of the van and wraps his arms around Winter's neck, letting him wrap his own around Ronen's waist. Winter sighs, pressing his forehead against Ronen's. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I've been agitated, and, I believe, rightly so. But I do love you."

"I love you too," Ronen says gently, pressing a kiss to Winter's lips. "We can tell him tomorrow, we should get some sleep first."

They managed to get comfortable on the mattress without waking Axel, but even though this was how they usually slept--with Winter tucked into Ronen's arms and, recently, Axel tucked under Winter's--Ronen found himself wide awake. With the nerves of their decision or some other reason, he didn't know. Whatever the reason, his eyes didn't pull closed until the sun was already rising.

---

They both woke up the next morning with pits in their stomachs. As they debated whether to wake Axel themselves or to let him sleep until he got up himself, both of them were ignoring the fact that neither of them wanted to be the one to actually break the news.

Eventually, Winter dismissed the conversation to sit in the front, with instruction to get him once Axel was out of bed. Ronen returned to his own thoughts, keeping still as he waited. Axel was such a sweet kid, it was hard to imagine him being mad at them, much less hating them, but Ronen couldn't help worrying. Everyone had their limits, and he was concerned that they were going to find Axel's.

And then, Ronen had no more time to think, because Axel was stretching his little arms out from under the covers, eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile spread on his face when his gaze landed on Ronen. 

"Hi Papa," Axel said, his voice quiet with remnants of sleep.

Ronen tried a smile. "Hey there Guppy. How was your sleep?"

"Was good," Axel yawned, pushing the covers off and stumbling over to sit in Ronen's lap. 

Winter came back to meet them, and he and Ronen exchanged a frown. Ronen sighed. "Axel, we're gonna have a chat, okay?" He lifted the boy out of his lap, placing him down to sit with his back against the wall of the van. 

Axel frowned, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Winter sat with Ronen, threading their fingers together on instinct. "Is this 'cuz we're running out of money?" Axel asked.

"Not quite, Guppy," Ronen muttered. God, how were parents supposed to talk to their kids like this all the time? Ronen could hardly imagine how to put the words together. Then again, most parents didn't have to tell their kids that they were criminals running from the police, did they?

"The truth is, Axel," Winter started, and Ronen was grateful for his interjection, "we haven't been entirely honest with you. Yesterday, you saw something that made us realize we should tell you the truth."

"You lied to me?" Axel whispered, his pudgy hands grasping at the hem of his pyjama shirt. "But... but you said you woul'n't lie to me," he said.

Ronen's heart wrenched at the hurt expression on Axel's face. "We know, Guppy, and we're going to be honest with you now. I'm very sorry that we lied, but we thought it would be best for you." 

Axel sniffled.

"We're... criminals, Axel," Winter forces out, his line pressing into a line after he says it. "That is why we live in the van, and why neither Ronen nor I have a job... we're criminals." Somehow, Winter keeps his voice steady as he speaks, but Ronen can tell by looking at him that he's having a hard time. "We're... we're criminals..." he whispers again, pressing his lips together tight.

Axel was staring at Winter with wide eyes, and they drifted over to land on Ronen. "You're bad guys," Axel whimpered, and Ronen pulled his eyes away, blinking to keep his tears at bay.

"We promise we would never hurt you, Axel," Ronen says quietly. "It was hard for us to decide to tell you, but it didn't feel good to lie to you."

"Above all else, we want you to know that you are safe. We do everything in our power to keep you safe, and we still intend on doing that." 

Ronen bit his lip. Axel was looking down, playing with the hem of his shirt. "We aren't..." Ronen swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep composed. "We aren't forcing you... to stay here..." he said. He had to keep pausing to keep his tears at bay; Axel had become part of their family--if it could even be called that--and Ronen honestly didn't want him to leave. But he knew that they couldn't force Axel to stay if he didn't want to. That really would be kidnapping, wouldn't it?

"You're my Papa... my Daddy..." Axel said quietly, and Ronen felt his heart melt. "But i's scary, and you lied to me." He was doing that thing where he copied Winter--sat up straight, eyes ahead and trying to sound mature and in charge. "I don't wanna leave, 'cuz I love you." A hopeful smile pushed onto Ronen's face, and he felt Winter's hand untense in his own. 

Axel steeled his expression and looked into Ronen's eyes. "But no more lyin' to me." Ronen almost barks out a laugh at the stern words, but holds it back in favour of giving Axel a simple smile and a nod. Axel then turned to Winter, who threw his hands up in mock surrender, then lowered one to sit over his heart.

"I. Winter Naven, do solemnly swear to be truthful from this day onward." He gave a lopsided smile, but the look in his eyes was sincere. A smile spread across Axel's face, and he pushed himself to his feet to throw his arms around Winter and Ronen, his little arms stretching to try to hug them both at once.

"We love you, Guppy," Ronen whispered. "And from now on there's no more lies, okay?" 

Axel nodded against them, and they heard him let out a tiny sniffle. Ronen moved a hand to cradle the back of his head gently. "It's okay, Axel, you're safe," Winter said. "You're safe, we're going to keep you safe, little Guppy..."

---

Axel didn't seem distressed for the rest of the day. Ronen and Winter kept throwing each other glances, like they expected Axel to burst into tears or start screaming at any moment. But that moment never came. 

"Who was the text message?" Axel asked, almost absentmindedly as he doodled in a notebook. 

"Sometimes we get jobs from someone who gives us money," Winter answered. Axel bit the inside of his cheek. "But if you steal, why d'you need money?"

"We don't always want to draw attention. If we steal and get caught, that can put us in danger. It's better to pay sometimes."

All day, Axel had been asking questions. Ronen supposed it made sense. After settling such a huge truth onto him, then telling him there would be no more lies, it was really to be expected. He was a child after all, and he was curious. 

The rest of the day went by surprisingly calm; no more tears from Axel, no upsetting questions that lead to upsetting answers--Axel was much more relaxed with the situation than they could have ever hoped. 

"Alright, pyjama time Guppy," Ronen said. Axel stuck his tongue out, but walked behind the curtain to change regardless. After all of them had taken their turns changing, the flashlight was turned off, and they all climbed onto the mattress. 

"We're going to be out in the morning," Winter said. 

"What are you doing?" Axel asked.

"We just need some food," Winter told him, brushing some hair from Axel's face. "And we're not going to steal anything tomorrow. We have money for what we need right now. Our top priority is keeping you safe."

Axel said nothing else, just turned around to bunch his hands in Winter's sleep shirt.

---

True to Winter's word, Axel woke up alone again the next morning. His sleepy eyes scanned the van as he pushed the covers off of him. His hands were shaking. It had been scary, learning that his dads were bad guys.

"But they're not bad," Axel muttered to himself.

Still, what was he supposed to expect now? Maybe a little snooping around wouldn't hurt...

Axel was small enough that he could snoop into every small nook and cranny in the van, which was, admittedly, not many. Besides the compartments in the front and the spaces underneath the seats, there weren't many secrets. He rummaged around in their storage bins and tiny fridge, only finding the usual stuff--food, utilities, some of Axel's toys and books...

He lifted the carpet that covered the back; maybe there was a secret hatch hidden underneath. Nothing. He climbed into the front, checking the glove compartment and the side pockets on the doors. Nothing. And there was nothing under the seats, either. All that was left was Ronen's and Winter's bags in each of their seats.

But the last time Axel had looked in one of their bags, he'd seen the text message. Should he really dig around them again?

He pulled the zipper open on Ronen's bag. Inside was his phone, a paperback book, some sort of blue bottle that sloshed around when Axel shook it, and a package of Twinkies. He moved on to Winter's bag, and let out a whimper when he opened it.

Inside Winter's bag was another paperback, a large hoodie, two big hunting knives, and a handgun.

Axel's heart pounded against his chest. His Daddy had a gun! He shuffled hurriedly back to the mattress, grabbing his school bag and stuffing as much food into it as he could. He pulled the hoodie from Winter's bag over his head and grabbed the Twinkies from Ronen's.

He'd almost left the van when he turned around and grabbed Winter's gun, hiding it under the hoodie before hopping out of the van and running.

---

Ronen scowls at an old couple that whispers at them as they walk by. and Winter rolls his eyes, pulling him along.

"Fucking homophobes," Ronen mutters.

"They said absolutely nothing. Maybe they were just talking about your atrocious taste in hair colour," Winter teased.

Ronen huffs, waiting as Winter grabs something from the shelf. "Are you worried about Axel too?" he says finally. "He was so calm yesterday...  I can't help feeling like something is wrong."

"He's a child," Winter says. "If he was upset, he wouldn't have tried to hide it."

"Maybe he was in shock or something," Ronen argued weakly. He sighs. "I don't know... I--I don't know," he mutters, dismissing himself, but Winter laces their fingers together.

"We can check on him when we get back. We're not staying at the grocery store forever, Ro."

It sure felt like forever to Ronen. The more he wanted to move faster, the slower time seemed to move. When they finally got out of the store, Ronen was remembering why he preferred to skip the lines by stealing. 

"Axel," Ronen called, pulling the door open, "we're back--" He was cut short when he found the back of the van empty. "Oh, shit."

"What's wrong?" Winter asked. He crawled in next to Ronen, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the empty van. "Oh, shit." Ronen was already rummaging in his back, looking for his phone.

"Wherever he is, he took my Twinkies," Ronen said, giving a half-hearted laugh.

"That's what you're worried about?"

"It's called gallows humour!"

"Technically speaking, the correct definition is--fuck." Winter went quiet rummaging through his own bag. "He has my gun."

Ronen froze for a second, the pushed their bags off their seats. "Start driving," he demanded, like Winter didn't already have the keys pushed into the ignition, white-knuckled grip on the wheel. "If there was ever a time to break traffic laws, now is that time."

--- Axel's little legs carried him to the outside of a busy shopping center. He didn't go inside, keeping to the sidewalk instead. No one going the other way bothered to stop him, though there were many whispers as he was passed. 

He was nearly at an intersection, ready to cross the road when a police cruiser pulled up next to him. One cop stepped out, and Axel stepped back, his little heart banging against his ribcage. The cop didn't look angry, but Axel still found his hands wandering to his back, where the baggy hoodie concealed Winter's gun.

"Are you lost, buddy?" Axel flinched at the voice and shook his head.

"No..." he muttered, his hands bunching up in the hoodie.

The cop didn't seem satisfied with that answer. "Where are your parents?" He took another step, and Axel stumbled backwards, shaking his he|ad desperately.

"No," he whimpered. "No, they lied to me," he said, his eyes pressed shut tight.

"Listen buddy, we're just going to take you home--"

"No!"

Axel pulled the hoodie away, grabbing the gun and pointing it blindly toward the cop. "No!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he hiccuped as the other cop bolted out of the car. "They lied to me!" He was sobbing now, the gun shaking in his hands. "They lied to me!"

Tears were blurring his vision, and he scowled up at the officers in front of him. "You need to put the gun away," the first cop said, and Axel screamed, more tears flowing down onto his cheeks. People were starting to stare in horror.

"No," he screamed. "No, no, they lied to me! Why did they lie to me?" Axel demanded. "They promised they wouldn't lie!"

"Axel!"

Axel's head whirled around just in time to see the van slowing next to the curb. Ronen jumped out before it rolled to a stop, grabbing Axel and lifting him into his arms. "Oh God, oh, God, Axel..." he muttered, eyes locking with the cops before bolting back to the van, Axel screaming bloody murder and squirming around in Ronen's arms, fingers never letting go of the gun.

As soon as Ronen was back in the van, Winter slammed his foot down onto the gas and they all tried to steady themselves as they lurched forward.

"Axel, God, Guppy, what were you thinking?" Ronen asked, his face pale. "You--lied to--me," Axel hiccuped. The gun was still clutched in his pudgy hands, knuckles white where they held the grip. His face was smeared with tears and snot, and he looked up at Ronen with shiny eyes.

"I know, Guppy, we lied so much. But we're not going to lie anymore, and you--you can't just go around pointing guns at people, Axel!" Ronen pulled the gun from Axel's hand. He noticed that the safety hadn't even been turned off, which curbed some of his anxiety. He holds Axel's shoulders gently, then, not wanting Axel to see him crying, too, he pulls him into a hug. Axel sniffles and sobs into Ronen's shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.

"You're safe, Axel," Ronen croaks. "We promised no more lies."

Axel sobs against Ronen's skin, lifting his head to look at Winter, who keeps casting worried glances behind him as he drove.

"Daddy... Daddy has a gun," Axel whined. "He has a gun, and he has knives, Papa!"

Ronen sighed, cradling Axel's head. "I know he does, Guppy." Axel sniffles.

---

Winter stopped the van hours later. In the back, Ronen had Axel cradled to his chest as the boy slept, his eyes puffy and cheeks shiny with tears. He sat down, and Ronen gave him a sad look. Winter just nodded in response, running a soft hand through Axel's hair.

At the new touch, Axel's eyes flew open, and he flinched, drawing further into Ronen's arms. When he saw Winter's face, he whimpered, more tears pushing into his eyes.

"Axel, honey, I--"

"You had a gun," Axel whimpers, his breath hitching with sobs.

"I do," Winter says. He wants to say something more, but no words come out. Axel presses a hand to his cheeks, wiping tears away, but they're only replaced with more falling from his eyes. "Did you kill anyone?" he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

"I--well uh... yes, I have--"

Winter is cut off when Axel's sobs get louder. He tucks himself into Ronen's chest, fists balling in his shirt.

"Axel, I... I'm sorry, please don't cry," Winter says.

"'Mnot crying," Axel lies. "Not scared and not crying..."

Winter sighs. "Axel, we told you we weren't going to lie to you, so you have no reason to lie to us." When Axel doesn't say anything, Winter continues. "It's okay to be scared, Axel, I can understand that. My parents lied to me too. They... hurt me."

"Winter..." Ronen starts, but Winter holds up a hand to quiet him.

"I know what it's like to be scared, Axel. I know that when someone lies to you, it's scary. But I love you, Axel. We love you. And I'm done lying to you, because I know it hurts. I don't want you to feel like I did. So please, trust me when I say that I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe with us." Axel shook his head fervently when Winter tried to reach for him. "No, no, stop," he whimpered, voice muffled by Ronen's shirt.

Defeated, Winter dropped his hand into his own lap. Ronen gave him a sympathetic look, his hand rubbing Axel's back as he cried. 

---

Tag List: @roman-sing-despacito @lovesupportandcookies @actiongirl2005 @ab-artist @internetwhy @obsessedwith83514 @zorakaseko @book-r-the-best @lee-knows-it @noahisanidiot @thekeytohappiness-is-you @daenerysblackriddle @friendlyfatherfigment @sunflower-shitposts @brownie-aunt @dra-logan-w @superwholocked-for-life @ananonsplace @kcthestarkid @imforeveranoob @maddycook27 @spellboundnora @deceitifullies101 @milkshakethouart @porcelain-dionysus

[dissociationandpoetry]

Swings and Roundabouts: Recovery Day 474

I'm horribly anxious at the moment and I can't quite put my finger on why. All last week I was an anxious, triggered, over stimulated mess masquerading as a human being. Things are going well, and it's like my brains gone ohhhh it's safe. Have a bucketload of anxiety that springs out of nowhere because we don't trust when it doesn't suck. Being able to give breathing space to grief, guilty and trauma is great - until it's not. Absolutely everything is too much, I keep forgetting things. I turned the oven on, not the hob, so I didn't actually cook the food I had made for my guests, and they had to have cheese on toast instead. It was with the good cheese, but still. I'm on top of the workload, my health is stable, my finances are stable, no friends have died recently, you know, all the usual suspects aren't in attendance. Yet I just want to hide under my weighted blanket, drink tea and hide with a fluffy regency romance novel with a happy ending, but not too much of the frisky stuff because that gets a bit much after a while. I don't know if it's because I've been travelling a lot for hospital appointments, the cold weather, the fact Autumn is my favourite season but also the worst? The mounting dread that I don't know what I'm doing after university, and that doing a masters just prolongs the inevitable? I. Don't. Have. A. Damn. Clue. And I hate it. If I'm resting I'm anxious I should be doing something else, if I'm taking time for myself I'm panicking I need to be doing more work, and when I'm working I want to be with tea in bed. I keep worrying that my friends think I suck, that I'm over sharing, too much, annoying. I know rationally they do like me, life won't end after uni, I will get a job, or find something meaningful to do. I know I can't manage a Christmas job but keep worrying I should be doing more, earning more, saving more. Either way. Trauma is kicking my butt, in a lot of ways life is so much better, and so much easier and more fulfilled than 474 days ago. I have constantly made better choices for my mental health, mostly looked after myself more and generally I'm in a better place, but also I'm not. I still feel powerless, jittery and anxious. I'm so tired, and it doesn't go away. I keep feeling really anxious about money and worrying about having enough food in the house, I'm right now not wanting for either, but I can't stop checking my cupboards, writing inventories, trying to push down the panic that there isn't enough. I don't need to buy more or ration and it's really hard not too. I never went hungry, not really, but the anxiety of managing food, and getting food from my childhood is a gnawing ache. I don't have to bully an adult into getting up and dressed, or giving me the money and walking the mile there and back to the corner shop that wasn't on a corner near us at all to get bread, or milk, or cerial or cans of beans because I was too young to know how to cook. Nobody is hoping that the potatoes don't get blight, so we won't have to buy any and save the money. I can go to any supermarket I please and get food from all over the world with my own money, but it doesn't fill the pit of fear that there won't be enough. I'm not food hoarding, which is a big, huge, massive step forward for me. I am acknowledging it, I know it's there, and that it will ease eventually. The idea that this is the rest of my life is exhausting, I found myself counting exits today, mentally calculating how long it will take me to cross the room. What are the obstacles? Who's in the way? Are people behind me? Can I see them? Is it better to be near the door with the room behind me, or at the wall with a clear view of the room? All hundreds of snap shot observations that used to be second nature. I want to sleep but for some reason it's really scary. I'm not even having nightmares it's just like a massive bed sized 'nope!' in my brain and I keep procrastinating. I know I need to sleep or it's as not looking after myself properly - but I'm so wired it's hard to settle. So 474 days, I'm doing okay. I'm tired, but I'm showing up and working to be better. . . 474 days 20 July 2018 - 6 November 2019

[a-heart-inscribed]

Operation Eros - Part 3

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 1847

The blush looks good on Steve, covering his cheeks and tinting his ears.

He clears his throat. “Captain Handsome, reporting home.”

The door clicks open and Steve holds the door open for you. “Welcome home Captain and guest.”

You break into a huge smile and fight the giggles as you move into the entry way. “Captain Handsome?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s Tony’s system. He chose the code names and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to change it.”

You laugh as he moves in and starts leading you into the tower. “Well I like it. Very Tony, though.”

“He alternates between that and Capsicle.” Steve chuckles with you for a moment. “FRIDAY, team location report please.”

“Of course, Captain. One moment.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You can find out where everyone is at any time?”

“No, not always. We can tell FRIDAY we want to be ‘offline’ and she hides our location unless emergency protocol is activated. And for the most part we try to respect each other’s privacy.”

“The Captain has a guest! And so late at night. Cap, I’m please to find you are finally bringing home a friend…” When Tony rounds the corner, his face shows confusion but amusement as your eyes meet.

“Privacy, huh?” You say to Steve in an attempt to hide the burning in your cheeks.

“Y/n. What a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you were the guest FRIDAY was reporting to me.” Tony pops out his hip and leans against the rail of the landing he was standing on. The look on his face has turned smug and you wonder if he is up to something.

“You have your teams guests reported to you Tony?” You laugh.

Tony smiles wider but doesn’t make the joke you see shining in his eyes. “I have everyone who comes and goes from the tower reported to me for at least 24 hours after a big mission.”

As you watch his face you get a good sense of his reasoning. He does well hiding it behind that smirk but you see in his eyes that he wants to keep his team safe. This solution probably gives them some amount of freedom as well as satisfying Tony’s protective tendencies. “Well,” you start, smiling and holding the bag in your hand up, “We come bearing sustenance.”

Tony’s eyes finally find the bags and coffee in your hands. “Woman, you are a God send.”

Steve laughs and motions for you to follow him up the stairs. “Team to the kitchen Tony?”

Closer to Tony you can tell he had just recently showered and can read the same exhaustion in his muscles that you see in Steve. He has a dark bruise peeking out from under the collar of his t-shirt and you wonder how hard he had to be hit to get that while in the Iron Man suit. “Roger that Captain. FRIDAY, send an all page to the team, report to the kitchen please and thank you.”

One by one you are joined by the Avengers, each incredibly grateful to be met with warm food and drinks. From what you gather, food around the compound is fend for yourself and after missions everyone tends to be too tired to care about how hungry they are. You try to cut out and let them be, but they insist you stay and eat with them.

Some hours later, you’re seated between Steve and Loki when you try to stifle a yawn. It’s 3am after all and you have no idea how they are all awake.

“I believe the lady is tiered.” The God of Mischief’s eyes are playful but kind as he pushes your shoulder with his.

“No, no. It’s nothing.” You stifle another yawn and he grins at you.

You catch Steve looking at the clock and furrowing his brow. “Do you open tomorrow?” It takes you a moment before you concede under his gaze and nod. Steve sighs out your name. “By the time you got home you would need to turn around and come back. You should have left hours ago…”

“It’s fine really. I’ll just stay up. When you all are done, I’ll just go hang out in the shop until opening.” You knew you’d be kicking yourself in a few hours, but you had let time get away from you.

“Unacceptable.” Tony shrugged as he sat the last part of his sandwich down and waved his hand in the air. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please prep a guest room.”

Before you know it, you have a guest room in the tower, a barrowed set of pajamas from Natasha that don’t fit quite right, and a promise from Pepper to have your work uniform cleaned and ready in a few hours. You can’t be sure, but you have a suspicion that Tony made sure the room he had prepared wasn’t far from Steve’s because he offered to show you the way up as it was on his way to his room. As you lay down to sleep, in the Avengers Tower of all places, you wonder at how surreal things have become.

This staying over becomes more common place for you as the months go by and soon you have left a few things in the tower for the nights you need to just stay and your normal guestroom is pretty much just reserved for you.

It was one of those nights, one the team was coming home late, when Steve found you crying quietly in the back of the shop. He’d let himself in quietly but when you hadn’t greeted him, he had started to worry. “Wow, sweetheart. Hey, what’s wrong?”

His movements as he approached were slow and measured, not his normal rush to your side. Hands finding your shoulders he gently turned you to him. One hand ran up and down your arm and the other went to brush a tear from your face.

God you didn’t want him to see you like this, but you were tiered, and it was late and you could only hold stuff in for so long. You manage to clear your throat a little. “It’s nothing, Steve. Have you guys eaten?”

“No, no. You don’t get to brush this off. Not when you’re like this. What happened?”

You sigh and shift from foot to foot. “I- my boyfriend… I left him.”

“Oh.” You know you aren’t imagining the way Steve’s body tenses and how he pulls back just a bit. “Boyfriend. I- I’m sorry about the breakup. He’s a fool for hurting you.”

Shaking your head, you move back closer to him. “It’s complicated but not like that. I- I’m mad at myself.” You bring a hand up to scrub away some of the tears before going on. “Colin was my boyfriend a few years ago. We had dated for a while, but it just wasn’t working out. He had trust issues, I had my own stuff going on… we broke up like two years ago and he left the city. But he moved back last month and reached out. I figured it couldn’t hurt. You know, for old times’ sake, to give it another try…”

You couldn’t tell Steve you had only decided to give Colin another chance because you wanted the distraction from the feelings you felt rising for… someone unattainable.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to explain…”

Maybe you don’t have to, but you started and now you just want to get it out. “It was stupid, Steve. I don’t have feelings for him at all anymore. I knew I didn’t going in. So, we just… fought. All the time. He still has trust issues, said I was in love with someone else,” You tried to breeze past that because you weren’t sure that it was wrong, “he hated when I’d come home late even though it wasn’t like he was waiting around for me. He made that perfectly clear by sleeping with a different ex of his yesterday…”

“Oh, y/n.” Steve’s body softens again as he pulls you flush to his chest.

A hiccup escapes you, but you are done with the tears, you are done crying over that jerk. You nuzzle your face into the fabric of Steve’s stealth suit breathing in the unique sent of him mixed with the smell of a mission and you feel at home. Damn it, Colin was probably right about your feelings for Steve.

After a few minutes, during which you had wrapped your arms around Steve’s waist without realizing, you sigh into his chest and mutter. “Www shhhhd et uh teem um ood.”

Steve chuckles, “Excuse me?”

Sighing again you pull your head back. “We should get the team some food.”

He brushes back some hair from your face. “Doll, no need to worry about them, they can take care of themselves. You don’t have to face them right now.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that Steve hasn’t loosened his arms from around you “I want to be with my friends right now, Steve… I-”

You don’t get to finish you sentence as the bell on the door chimes. “Hey, Steve, I- oh.” As Bucky moved into the shop Steve pulled slightly away from you and Bucky’s face lit up in a grin. “Am I… interrupting something?” In his eyes you see that look that Tony had in his not so long and you can’t help but wonder what they are up to.

Smiling back, you shake your head and remove yourself from Steve’s arms, regretfully. “No, punk.” You pat his arm as you move by him. “Did you come to help carry the food?”

He chuckles, eyes glued to Steve for a bit as if trying to silently communicate with him. “No, actually. I came to tell Steve that we got the lead we were missing. We have some intelligence to go over and a mission to plan. The sooner the better.”

Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Alright, let’s get Tony and Nat in on this too, and maybe Bruce. Let’s meet in the conference room in 10.”

“Oh no you don’t. Not without food and coffee. I know all of you. You probably haven’t eaten in two days, to focused on getting stuff done and saving the world.” You start to pull stuff out of a cupboard. “Both of you, over here. Bucky can you cut those into slices, and Steve can you get the bread and boxes out?”

And just like that you feel better. You feel at home with the team.

Ever the gentleman, Steve keeps your breakup a secret but is diligent in checking up on you. Even on the mission they had quickly got underway, he had made sure once a day to message you. When he can he comes by the shop on your breaks, when he can’t get away, he has you come over to the tower when you get off. Soon you realize that Captain America, Golden Boy of the USA, has become your best friend.

Tag List:

@georgialeighc13

[barbadosmuseum]

Christmas in Barbados!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! And while Barbados doesn’t experience a “white Christmas” with snow, cold and jacket apparel, we certainly have our own way of making December a jolly holiday!

The BHMS Christmas Tree in The Museum Shop

We thought it would be great to share what this time of year is like for Bajans!

Of course, there’s the obligatory cleaning of the house which must occur in anticipation of the numerous friends and family that will pop over throughout the month. 

More often than not, this time of year is also an opportunity to brighten the house with new curtains, tablecloths and even furniture.

Once the cleaning is done, it’s time to check on the great cake mixture which has been sitting in the cupboard the entire year. 

Great Cake for us is a heavy fruit cake, where the mixture is soaked in rum. (Fun fact, traditionally in Barbados, wedding cakes are made of great cake) To determine if the great cake mixture is ready, you just need to open the container and the aroma should knock you back a bit...if it doesn’t then there wasn’t enough rum.

Great Cake made with Cassava can be purchased from The Museum Shop

Other delicacies that are usually consumed during the holidays include sorrel drink, Jug-Jug (a dish made with pigeon peas, corn, and meat), sweet bread, and for a vast majority, ham.

On Christmas morning after leaving the ham to slow cook, either the 5, 7 or 9 am church service will be attended with the family. 

Following church, a longstanding tradition of going to Queens Park occurs. Since conception, this has been a chance to meet with friends from different churches and parishes, while showcasing your Christmas outfits. In recent years it has grown to encompass a street fair feel, with vendors and a Christmas Show. Definitely, an experience you should do if visiting the island on Christmas Day.

By afternoon, everyone returns home to enjoy the Christmas meal amongst extended family. 

If you finish this post, the one thing you should know is that good food, friends and family time are considered the cornerstones of an amazing Bajan Christmas!

Whatever you do during this holiday period, we wish you a safe and enjoyable time!

Happy Holidays from the Barbados Museum & Historical Society!

[colitisandme]

One of my favourite ‘me quotes’ is ‘Cake is the cornerstone of any nutritious meal’ I used this quote whenever I wanted cake, or to justify eating cake which was at least once a week. Could be big cakes the size of my face, or tiny ones, so whenever I ate them I felt like a giant... didn’t matter. Cake just makes me happy. I am such a foodie. I love sharing foods, trying different cuisines, talking about food, cooking, oh it just became such a big part of me. And the thing is we take food so much for granted. I bet if you were to list what food you had last week, chances are you wouldn’t be able to remember because it all becomes a delicious blur. A meal consists of a cocophany of satisfied slurps, chomps and munches and no one remembers the ins and outs, because food is bloody delicious, incredibly emotive and also vital for energy and fuel so we can keep going.

It’s safe to say my relationship with food has changed. I am wary of it. Its rude, it can be aggressive and mean... It sneaks up on me after I have eaten it and wants all the attention, like a drunk at a party, who hogs the music and every other song screams “shut up, shut up this song is telling the story of my life” whist caterwauling the ear shattering lyrics of John Bon Jovi ‘It’s my life’ at 10,000 decibels. It hurts me. Every day. It makes me worry. It makes me plan my day around it. It governs my life.

It’s amazing how much pleasure food gave me and how every social event revolved around eating - “lets go out for dinner” or “oooh let’s check out this place I hear it does great food” or “drinks and nibbles after work? Or “Let’s catch up over dinner” It just forms such a large part of our social activities and it’s unavoidable. IT’S EVERYWHERE. adverts, supermarkets, TV, free samples.. tempting us and it’s difficult what to know what to do without all those social foodie cues. I have been watching a lot of cooking shows as apparently I like to torture myself and live vicariously through others. I swear the other day I was watching MasterChef Australia and someone brought out a sugar fest of yumminess and a little bit of drool came out... my dreams involve eating, my thoughts involve food, and when I pass Italian restaurants or desert bars, customers get a viewing of me practically licking the window like a demented, feral animal, as they tuck into their Pasta Arrabiata and ice cream sundaes.

Because my GP has been as useful as a chocolate cattle prod over giving me any help with diet, lifestyle or general survival skills to help me live with IBD. I turned to my wonderful Homeopath. I was advised to cut out Sugar, dairy, wheat and gluten. I went green. That pretty much covered my whole diet. What the hell was I going to eat? No bread, cheese, pasta, milk? Maybe I would end up chewing on Cardboard? Is cardboard even nutritious? Can you get it in different flavours? I panicked. This was scary. I took a deep breath then vowed that in two days I would do it. Then I prepared my self for a farewell feast of a lifetime. Over that weekend I gorged on cake, cookies, cheese, crackers. I shovelled in food like a happy hamster. All weekend long. If I could have squirrelled it away in my cheeks I would have done. Gladly. It didn’t matter what I ate, because it shot through me like a rocket. But pain or no pain I was determined to do it. On Sunday. I brought dairy free milk, gluten free pasta and meat and fish and instructed my husband to eat anything I counted as delicious, which he did like the trouper he is.... then Beige Monday began.

I am not going to lie, it’s hard. It’s hard giving up things you love. It’s doubly hard watching your loved ones eat what the hell they want, and don’t have to deal with bum fireworks and crying on the toilet because your arse has turned into a shining beacon of despair. I have never resented my friends, my husband or family for their co-operative digestive systems, but it does sometimes suck when you go to a party and there’s nothing you can eat without turning your bowels into a Catherine wheel on bonfire night.

Recently. Food has waged war on my body. Not just foods that are considered yummy. Nope. I mean any foods. Even friendly foods. The whole process of digestion has become a cruel game of chance. “Tonight let’s see what the tombola of digestive distress has in store for you this time” *spin * spin *spin* .... “congratulations tonight you will be having horrendous hiccups which make you sound like a dying giraffe, and will make you want to hit yourself in the face to make them stop, bloatedness where you are going to balloon to the size of a whale and finally constipation for 3 days... thanks for playing and tune in next time for another thrilling addition...” Every time I eat or now even drink water I ask myself Is this going to make me writhe in agony, or is this just going to be mildly upsetting? A week or so ago whilst eating, I practically threw my plate across the room. My body was screaming. The pain was intense. Every time I breathed, moved .. oh my god. It was awful. And I admit I had a moment of sheer frustration and exhaustion I ended up swearing at my food, chastising it. asking my sweet potato fries what the hell I had done to them to make them behave in such an aggressive mannor. Screaming “EVERYTHING ON THIS PLATE IS DESIGNED NOT TO HURT ME, SO WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HURTING ME YOU FOOD OF LIES” I could not make the pain stop. After many cuddles from my husband, who listened to me talking about the evils of ham, I crawled to bed clutching my panda waterbottle and desperately tried, through gritted teeth to practice mindfulness and meditation to help ease the pain, and prayed that I wouldn’t have to call an ambulance at 2 in the morning as I truly hate hospitals.

Sometimes I can eat twice a day sometimes once a day. Very occasionally 3 meals a day (on these days I give myself a gold star and victory dairy free, gluten free cookie and do a victory dance to myself. My IBD symptoms can range anything from aching joints and muscles, dry skin, weight loss, nausea, pain, diarrhoea, constipation, extreme fatigue, brain fog... the list goes on. And would you believe that the simple process of eating and the follow up of digestion makes all these things worse, as the nutrients don’t get to wherever they need to go and those that do, there aren’t enough to aid me, and so I take a butt load of natural suppliments to help my body function. I guess at the moment the battle of me vs food goes on and usually food wins but occasionally it doesn’t, and those are the days that although I lament the loss of cake, I hold my head high, go to my cupboard and make some chia, dairy free, cocoa and gf brownies and snuggle down and watch MasterChef. Because whether I can participate or not, I will always be a foodie at heart.