#we have a huge box of it in the pantry and I cannot stop eating it-

[cutetinyartist]

Lads help I can't eat Weetabix without thinking of this advert-

[luveline]

& speaking of the Steve zombie au series —

would you ever maybe give us a little tidbit of maybe Steve and reader where he finally admits to her not only just how petrified he was when she got kidnapped, but also how much he’s realized that he cannot live without her? I could feel his walls coming down in that last excerpt and felt our boy wanting to just UNLEASH all of his emotions to us and the comforted one vs the comforter, like — ugh my baby 🥲

even if you never wrote this tho your writing and this series is literally unmatched like oh my fucking god I love you and don’t even know you???

thank you so much ♥ for you, fem!reader zombie!au steve

"You want to what?" 

"I want to move into the pantry." 

You stare at Steve, your shock melding into unhappiness. "No, you don't." 

He laughs at your frown and sits up a little taller. He almost drops his tray. "I do! I miss you all the time, I don't see why we chose separate jobs in the first place." 

You look down at your own tray. You and Steve have chanced the unnatural winter sunshine to eat in the quietude outside of the cafeteria, but it's cold despite the sunshine and you don't like the food today and now Steve is… doing whatever it is he's doing. 

"I miss you too," you say. "You want this?" 

"You need to eat." 

"I don't like–" 

"That's never stopped you before," he teases lightly. 

"Forgive me for being picky," you say, and you're not being sarcastic. It's an amazing privilege at this point, and in these circumstances, to be able to turn food away. "You eat it for me, please." 

"We can go to the shop tonight and pick something you like," he says. 

'The shop' is just that, a small store of any excess pantry stuff, luxuries people don't strictly need. You can trade or you can cash in a 'credit' or a few for something. There's been some great stuff in there lately, like marshmallows and a huge box of three musketeers bars. 

"No…" You don't want him to buy you treats. It's like a reward for being difficult. "You can't come to work in the pantry, there isn't anything for you to do." 

"Then I'll do something else. I just want to be here with you." 

"But," you say, alarmed, "you can't do that. We can't be like that." 

You've only just got back to normal. Not normal, because this isn't normal, not this community or the apocalypse or what happened to you, but better than it had been. You get up in the mornings at the same time and eat breakfast in the cafeteria, where Hopper hosts town hall, and then you part for your separate jobs. You work in the kitchen, Steve works as a sort of security guard patrolling the fences of the community to stop a geek invasion, and occasionally leaves the College to bring things back from the abandoned shopping mall a couple of miles away. 

"Be like what?" he asks, sounding like he's about to sulk with you as he puts his tray at the floor by his feet. 

"Codependent." 

"We're already codependent. I think we're allowed." 

"See, that's what everybody says, but–" 

You put your tray down on the floor because you doubt Steve's going to eat it. It clinks next to Steve's with a more aggressive emphasis than you'd wanted.

You look at him, really look at him, eyes scanning his eyes and his mouth and the way he's holding his shoulders. He's tense. He's anxious. 

"Stevie," you say, and offer him your hand. 

He doesn't take it. "But what?" he asks. 

"I need you to be happy," you say, "how can you be happy if you're always worried about me? And when you're not worried about me it's because you're giving up the things you like doing to be near me." 

Your voice is quiet. It's hard to say all that out loud, one half of you worried he'll laugh in your face and say you've got it all wrong, and the other worried you'll hurt his feelings. 

"I need you." 

"Steve, you–" 

"I do," he says, staring a hole into your thigh, "I need you. I went fucking crazy without you." 

"You would've been okay." If something happened to me. 

He shakes his head. "No, I would've been a mess. Probably forever." 

This isn't the first time you've seen Steve vulnerable, but it's been a long time. He's been your pillar of strength, he's held you through nightmares and moments of unreality. He hadn't once wavered. 

You push onto your feet. You stand in front of him, weaving your fingers into the soft hair at the back of his head. 

"Steve," you say, pulling his head into your chest. You don't continue, wanting to say, Why didn't you tell me you felt like that? 

But he had. Hadn't he? He'd crossed the wilderness in the dead winter on a maybe that you'd be somewhere he could reach. 

His shoulders shift under your hand. You think, horrified, that he might be crying. 

"Steve," you whisper, pressing your lips into his hair. "It's okay. You saved me, you know?" 

"But what if I didn't get there in time? You were all alone. You were tied up," he says.

"I'm sorry." You don't know what else to say. You're so sorry. That he would have to think that, and see you like that. "It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

His arms slide behind your back and lock you in so tightly you feel like each of his fingers is touching your spine. You scramble to keep a hold on him. 

"I– you know, I lost my shit in the communal bathrooms and Robin had to tell me to get ahold of myself," he admits, trying to be lighthearted. He sounds strangled. 

"I didn't know that," you say, your eyes filling with tears. 

You have no clue if Steve is crying now. You think he might be. He's unsteady under your hands, the side of his face buried in your sternum, his hands clinging to you like you're a liferaft at sea. You try to calm him down, and find, ashamed of yourself, that you don't know how. 

"I'm so sorry, Steve," you mumble, sniffing his hair. He smells like your shared soap. 

All you can do is let him hug you. Eventually, his grip loosens, and he pull his face from your torso to look up at you. 

"Squeezing you…" He rubs his hands softly over the places he'd gripped. 

"You didn't hurt me. You'd have to try way harder than that, Harrington," you say. 

He reaches up for your face and you let him take it, bending at the waist for a kiss. You ignore the dampness under his eyes at first, thinking maybe that's what he wants. You kiss him all wonky in your desperation to feel it, and you laugh wetly as you lean back. 

You wipe his cheeks. "I love you," you say, and you both fill up with tears again. 

"This is embarrassing," Steve says, laughing with you.

You nod fiercely. Super embarrassing. 

You wouldn't have it any other way, though. You throw your arms around his neck for a second time and kiss the top of his head until you can't feel your lips.

[arminbitchlover]

reincarnated lovers (3)

armin arlert x f! reader

summary: reader and armin decide to give the start of their relationship a second chance.

word count: 3.7k

content warnings: content warning: mentions of drug use, vaginal and oral sex (F & M receiving), a slight insinuation of overstimulation, fingering, praise, & creampie

“Wow, you have a nice apartment.” Armin opens the door for you, and you gaze at his spacious apartment in awe.

“No need to flatter me.” He slightly chuckles, placing his keys on the small table against the wall.

“Trust me, I would never.” You tease as he grabs your hand and leads you to his kitchen.

You immediately take notice of how modern and simplistic his home is. The color palette throughout his apartment is cool tones, mostly consisting of white and gray. It somewhat makes you feel like you're in a museum rather than someone’s house. He doesn't have any pictures of family or friends on his wall, not even a frame of him and Eren.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” He crouches down to the bottom cabinet and pulls out a baby blue griddle.

“That actually sounds amazing right now.” You place your stomach in your hand, realizing how queasy you feel with only alcohol in your stomach.

“Could you get the pancake mix from the pantry, please?” He smiles at you while grabbing the oil from the upper shelf and placing it on the counter.

You open the door and instantly spot a never-ending pile of ramen neatly stacked on the floor. Adorable. Your eyes shift to the box of pancake mix on the middle shelf that's surrounded by other dessert mixes and grab it. You walk over to Armin, who already took out the ingredients with a bowl, measuring cups, and a spoon that's nicely arranged next to the griddle.

“I’m letting you know right now, I am not a gourmet chef so you cannot complain about the results,” He playfully warns you as he opens up the pancake mix.

“Armin, we’re making box pancakes. Not even from scratch.” You laugh, pulling out the plastic bag from the box, and cutting it open.

“You don’t have to make me feel bad about it.” He fakes a pout as he starts to pour the oil into the measuring cup.

You try to give him a serious look, but immediately break out into a smile when he makes eye contact with you. He hands you the ingredients while you incorporate everything into the bowl, enjoying the presence of one another.

As you pour the batter on the griddle, Armin starts asking you random questions from your dream job as a kid to your biggest fears in life. While it was somewhat arbitrary, you thought how cute he looked while he listened to absolutely every single word that came from your lips. Occasionally, while you're busy flipping pancakes and answering his questions, he gets a quick glimpse at your slightly parted lips, but you never seem to notice.

"You're a really interesting person, you know." He leans back against the counter, watching you place your dinner onto the plates.

"I doubt that very much." You argue while taking the plates to his dinner table.

"Well, I think otherwise, and you still haven't thanked me for making dinner for our date." He rolls his eyes but quickly breaks character, seeing the confused look on your face.

"Huh, so it wasn't you that was just sitting on your ass and questioning me as if I was at a job interview?" You joke with him, taking the seat that's across from him.

"I have no recollection of such." He smirks as he walks over to the refrigerator and grabs two water bottles.

"Thank you." You takes the water bottle out of his hand, taking notice of how pretty his hands looked around your beverage.

He smiles and sits down, eyeing what he thought to be the best-looking pancakes he's ever seen.

"Well, enough about me, I want to get to know you now." You make eye contact, holding it a bit longer than needed before looking down and cutting up your meal, not wanting to make yourself look weird.

"Ask away." He opens his water and takes a quick sip.

"How were you like as a kid?" You begin eating your pancakes, waiting for Armin to answer.

"I was and still am a quiet kid. I've always minded my own business, so I didn't have many friends growing up. I only had Eren and Mikasa and we only met because they defended me when they saw some older kids messing with me." You look up at him, only to be met with a neutral face.

"I'm sorry about that, Armin." You break eye contact, worried that you may have just ruined his night by making him reminiscent.

"Don't apologize, I stopped thinking about those assholes a long time ago." He gives you a reassuring smile as he continues to eat his food.

"I'm happy to hear that." You take a swig from your water bottle, thinking of the next question to ask him. "What's your favorite memory? Whether it be from last week or years ago." You lighten the mood, immediately noticing Armin break out into a huge grin.

"There was this one time during senior year in high school with Eren and Mikasa and we smoked weed but for Eren, it was his first time. So, I guess to like 'impress'," He starts giggling as he does air quotes, "me and Mikasa, he decided to take a long ass hit and it completely backfired on him. When he first breathed out, he started coughing but tried holding it back, but he just started hacking nonstop, and every time he tried drinking water, he would just spit it back up." He throws his head back, cracking up while finishing his story.

"So, you enjoy watching other people suffer?" You smile, not aware of how contagious his laugh is.

"Yeah, I guess." He keeps laughing as his eyes start to tear up.

"It just makes it so much funnier than I was already somewhat high, and everything just gets a billion times more amusing than what it really is." He chuckles before looking back into your eyes, taking in the beauty that'sin front of him.

"Damn, I wish I was there to see it." You snicker, thinking about how Eren embarrassed himself even though you feel a bit guilty thinking it was funny in the first place.

"Well, we frequently have sessions so you should definitely join us if you'd like." He finishes up his dinner and takes his plate to the sink.

"I'll think about it." You quickly eat the last of your pancakes and feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

roomie <3

Today 12:12 AM

where tf are u

i've literally been gone for the

past hour

with armin right ;)

uhhh

omg i need to stop texting you and

sleepover while you're at it :)

we'll see (;

have fun and use protection

love you

oh god

love u too

Read 12:14 AM

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"Is everything alright?" Armin looks at you concerned, noticing your eyes widening at your screen.

"Huh? Oh yes, uh it was just Sasha." You put your phone back in your pocket, not wanting to give Armin any ideas.

Your heartbeat quicken as you face Armin, Sasha's message ingrained in your head. You doubt anything would happen tonight, it's barely your second date, but it was something to think about. As soon as your mind starts wandering into more inappropriate thoughts, you're interrupted by Armin's voice.

"Do you need me to take you back to your dorm?" He starts making his way to the door, not letting you respond.

"No, I can stay." You clear your throat; he stops in his tracks, having a bit of excitement by your answer.

"Oh okay, well is there anything you want to do?"

He stares into your eyes, feeling the tiny spark that wants to ignite. You feel your face start to heat up, trying to muster up anything to continue your night with Armin.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"Of course." He feels his chest tighten, the electricity between you grow stronger as the silence stretches out.

What the hell do you want to ask him? You have little to no idea what you wanted to face him with. While you have to admit, everything about him at this very moment is so fucking perfect and you don't mind trying something, you wouldn't dare pressure him into anything. You continue bouncing with thoughts and kept convincing yourself that a little persuasion wouldn't hurt him and besides, it would be a shame if nothing fun went down.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" You stay in your seat, worried that you may have broken a boundary that Armin had no intention of crossing. Your chest gets knotted up as you feel embarrassment rush over your body, regret started to quickly sink in.

His eyes widen and feels his heartbeat in his throat, indulging at the thought of doing so much more than just a kiss. He starts walking towards you, not aware that he didn't answer your question, rather just pulls you out of your seat and snakes his arms around your waist.

"Is uh- this okay?" His face turns into a bright pink, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Yes." You wrap your arms around his neck, not wasting a second longer.

You meet your lips with him, a soft whimper comes from his throat as you pull him closer. Your lips move in sync as if you had already done this a million times before. You bring one of your hands to his hair, slightly gripping it to try and get another noise out of him. You feel him pour all of his desire for you into that one kiss.

"Fuck." He mumbles under his breath, moving his hands to your ass, slightly squeezing it. Before you can take it any further, he pulls away from your kiss, grabs your hand, and takes you to his bedroom.

"Are you fine with this?" He has a concerned look on his face, making sure what he felt was a mutual feeling.

"Mhm." You nod your head, and he collides his lips with yours, drawing you in for a more heated kiss.

You part your lips, allowing his tongue to slip through, and you feel your body thrill with electricity. Everything just feels so natural between the two of you, there's no second-guessing or hesitation; it all felt right.

You both slowly started making your way to his bed, not breaking away your kiss as he lowered you onto it when the back of your knees is met with the edge. His hands traveled lower and made their way under your shirt and his cold fingertips are met with your warm soft stomach while pulling your shirt over your head. You slightly gasped when he came into contact with your skin, but this doesn't stop him from going any further. He took his lips to your neck, softly sucking and biting along your collarbone, letting his hot tongue glide over each spot he marked.

"Shit-" You choke and slightly arch your back, thinking to yourself how you've never felt this kind of delectation from someone before.

You grab his chin and pull him back to your lips and push his wrist down to your clothed core. He lightly presses against you, causing a jolt in your thighs while you moaned into his mouth. You feel a slight grin form on his face as he continues to tease you and felt you grind against his middle finger.

"You sound so pretty," He whispers into your ear.

You feel the arousal pooling low in your stomach, feeling him slowly dip under your panties and started massaging circles on your clit. You felt your legs start to slightly tremble and your back arched even more than before as the heat from his body filled you with a wave of delight.

"Armin." You grip your hands against his shoulder, becoming desperate for things to start escalating.

"Say my name again," He commands as he lifts his head and stares into your eyes, full of lust and desire.

"Armin, give me more, please," You whine, feeling your walls fluttered around nothing.

"Anything for you." He makes his way down your body, leaving a trail of peppered kisses from your neck to your pelvis.

He pulls off your panties, leaving you in only your bra, admiring what was inches away from his face. You could almost feel his gaze travel all over your body. You look down and make eye contact with him, watching him lower his face into you. You grasp the bedsheet and your eyes rolled back as his tongue lightly flicks against your clit. You buck your hips against him, growing incredibly impatient and he knows it.

"C'mon, please," You whimper, moving your hands to his head, and clutching his golden hair.

He grips the sides of your thighs and begins devouring you, his tongue becoming completely coated with your slick arousal. You feel his nose bump against your clit and causes your vision to swim while tugging on his locks from the bliss Armin created. You suddenly feel one of his fingers slip into you effortlessly, causing your mind to go blank while he curls it to hit the perfect spot.

"More," You cry out, grinding on his face as you felt your orgasm start to build up.

Without any hesitation, he slips another finger into you, widening your legs even more, making you start to see stars. It all starts to become too much for you, the stimulation starts to overload all over your drenched center. His tongue vigorously presses against your clit and fingers hitting your sweet spot, making everything feel so delirious.

"Sh-shit, Armin I'm close." You dig your nails into his scalp, throwing your head back, trying to hold off as long as possible to make it last a little longer.

"Let me hear you." He pull away for a second before enveloping himself back into you, making sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

That's all it takes to put you over the edge, and you reach your climax while moaning out his name. Your body becomes filled with a riptide of euphoria as you lose yourself in all the sensations. You can't believe the way he makes you feel; every little thing he does to you makes you feel so weak and submissive to him. Your legs are trembling, and he doesn't waste any time and begins to start kissing your inner thighs while gently rubbing your clit to help soothe you from your high.

"God, you're so beautiful," He breaths out while making his way back up your body and to your chest while unclipping your undergarment with a single hand.

"Y-You make me feel so fucking good." Your hands moves across his shoulder blades as he starts kissing your breasts, using his index finger and thumb to stimulate your nipples.

His other hand travels over your curves, feeling as if he needs to memorize every single feature of your body. You feel ecstasy relish over you, breathing heavily as Armin's lust for you takes over his mind. You can't ask for more than this right now, having someone do everything they could to make you feel nothing but absolute pleasure and you want to return the favor.

You slide up from under him, sitting up against the pillow, and flip him to the bottom.

"Wha-" You cut him off with a rough kiss, moving your hands to the bottom of his long sleeve, tugging at it.

You pull away and allow him to take off his shirt, admiring his pale, milky body. You can't believe the sight in front of you, he looks so fucking beautiful. You meet with his eyes and notice embarrassment rush over his face. You lean down and give him a gentle but passionate kiss.

"You're so handsome," You whisper his ear before you nibble on his earlobe, causing his thighs to slightly jolt.

You begin kissing down to his jawline, somewhat pressing your tongue against it while your hand softly traces his abs. You feel his stomach muscles contract under touch while his arms loosely wrap around your waist, delicately sliding his palms across your back. It doesn't take long for you to make your way down his body while you make sure to leave a hickey or two on his chest before meeting his bulge.

"You d-don't have to." He starts sitting up, but you place your hand on his chest to stop him.

"Let me make you feel good." You plead, pulling off his pants and boxers to reveal his hard cock that was seeping of pre-cum, just for you.

You run your hands on his thighs before bringing one up to the base of his dick. You look back at Armin, who seemingly has his head back while his face is flushed into a soft red. You glob spit on his dick before pumping your hand slowly, making sure that he feels every little sensation you're making. He lets out a shaky exhale, trying his hardest not to release with only a single touch.

You smirk to yourself feeling him pulse in your palm before moving it back down to the base and swiping your tongue on his tip.

"O-Oh." He moans out, moving one of his hands to your head.

You start humming very quietly, bobbing your head up and down with the slight pressure of Armin's palm. He groans, feeling his face heat up with everything you're doing to him.

As seconds passed, Armin's pressure on the back of your head only becomes more forceful, making you gag a bit and cause tears to form as he starts throat fucking you. It doesn't take long to begin to feel him twitch in the back of your throat, but before he could release himself, you pull away, looking up and seeing a shocked look on his face.

"I'm sorry, did I take too far?" He starts sliding up against his headboard, thinking he made you uncomfortable.

"No! Not at all... I just want to do something more." You hesitate with your words.

All you want at this very moment is to make sure Armin felt nothing but pleasure from you. Your heart starts thumping sporadically, loving the idea of riding him till he couldn't take it anymore.

"Y-Yeah, of course," He stutters as he quickly pulls out a condom from the drawer in his nightstand.

You think to yourself how cute he lookes getting flustered and excited with the thought of you topping him. You watch him slightly stumble while taking the condom out of its packaging before rolling it on himself. He looks back at you, a smirk on his face as he grasps your waist and pulls you onto his dick.

You align yourself with him before lowering yourself, watching his head fall back. His eyes become filled with desire as you bite your lip from his cock stretching you out.

"Shit.." He groans as you take all of him in, feeling your walls become adjusted to his cock.

You don't move for a second, savoring how it feels with him inside of you; feeling connected with one another. But once you begin to move, it's impossible to stop.

You start off slow and sensual, feeling him hit your cervix that caused a delightful pain in you. You bend down to his face leaving kisses all over across his jaw as you slowly move against him. You don't want this to end, everything feels so right.

"You feel amazing." He drags out his words, sliding his hands up and down the sides of your body.

You pick your head back up, speeding up from his praise.

"I hope I make you feel so fucking good," You cry out, feeling him start to hit all the right spots that you didn't even know were there.

Before your legs could start to burn, you feel his hands form a good grip on you before he starts thrusting forward, at this point making himself fuck you instead.

"A-Armin!' You yelp, feeling overloaded from the overwhelming pressure that begins to build up inside you.

He starts controlling the rhythm, taking all the power you thought you had over him. You grip his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped markings from his strokes becoming harder and deeper.

He admires the way your tits bounce every time he thrusts into you, wanting to see it happen over and over again. He loves seeing your head falls back as your eyes roll to the back of your head, starting to lose control of yourself from everything he's doing to you. He worships the idea that he's the one making you feel this good.

"I'm about to.." You close your eyes, letting yourself surrender and submerge into the wave of pleasure.

"Fuck, me too." His eyes darken, picking up the pace as your grip on him began to loosen.

You feel your stomach swoop from his words.

"C-Can I cum inside you? He groans, feeling himself twitch in you, worried that he might release himself too soon.

"Please." You unravel yourself onto him, your walls flutter against him and your arousal drips out of you.

"Armin!" You cry out his name one last time, the sensation becoming too much that it was almost painful.

The feeling of bliss and ecstasy take over as you feel his cum gush into you while moaning out your name. You ride him out a little longer, helping him come back down from his high before lying next to him.

You both exchange lazy kisses with one another, savoring each other's warmth for as long as possible.

"Thank you for an amazing second first date." You smile, resting your head against his chest while he softly caresses your jaw.

"You deserve nothing but the best." He kisses your forehead before pulling you closer to him.

At this moment, you fee nothing but happiness; you know from then on that Armin is the person that you're going to spend the rest of your life with. You just can't believe that it took you nineteen years to find your soulmate, but luckily, you'll be spending the rest of your lives together in pure bliss.

a/n: armin does ask reader permission to cum inside her even though he has a condom on because he wanted to make sure she was completely comfortable with it :)

previous chapter | series masterlist

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (25/30)

Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala for Boston's Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation.

 What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.What she truly doesn't expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: When I get home and have a few minutes, I’ll update the links that are missing on here. Tumblr does not like for people to post on their phones🤷🏻‍♀️ But anyways, here’s a new chapter thanks to a very rainy day in Venice that has me holed away in my room 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | 

Tag list: @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @notoriouscs

“So why are we doing this at your house again?” she questions as Killian puts their luggage in the back of their cab.

“Because I have a longer dining room table. There’s more space for food and people, even though we usually set out the food and then eat in the living room or out on the deck if the weather is nice.”

“Ah, yes, Thanksgiving on the beach where I can still wear a dress with no thermal leggings. This is living the life.”

Killian rolls his eyes at her. She can’t see him, but she knows that he does it. She slides into the backseat and buckles her seatbelt up while their driver messes with the knobs on the radio. It’s kind of weird not being in a car by herself or being in Killian’s car when getting to his house from the airport, and she really feels that when the driver eyes Killian as he settles into the car as well. Overall, she’s aware that people know who he is, that he’s a public figure. Hell, it’s kind of how they met, but it’s not something she thinks about anymore until they’re getting dinner and people either stare or stop him. Honestly, since they’ve been together, she hasn’t even watched anything that he’s in except for Highland Waters, and that was mostly because she wanted to know what happened after the premiere.

Okay, she needed to know what happened. It was a fantastic show.

He’s simply Killian to her. What he does for a living only matters to her because she’s proud of him and happy that he does what he loves.

But that doesn’t keep their driver from driving a little recklessly on occasion from continuously looking back at him. It’s weird, and she tries to ignore it as much as she can as she and Killian talk about tomorrow and this weekend. It takes an hour to get home, and she doesn’t really want to think about how much that costs, but then they’re dragging their bags inside and turning on all of the fans so that it can get a little air circulation. This place is mostly the same, but she can see a few subtle differences. All of his plants are gone, and she knows that it’s because Will coming over to water them every other day wasn’t a great system in the large scheme of things. Other than that, it’s really only the little things. A few picture frames are missing, a couple of books on the shelves that she knows are now on a shelf in their place despite the fact that they still have boxes absolutely everywhere after being there for a month.

She’s pretty much living out of boxes.

That’s fine with her, but she’s honestly a bit surprised that Killian is able to live like that with how organized he is. She’s been busy at work because of the charity gala in two weeks, and Killian had to fly back out here for some more screen tests for his movie. They’re having trouble finding his wife for it, even if she is deceased for most of the movie, so he’s having to go to the studio every time they think they have someone who he’ll have good chemistry with.

She never thought she’d say this, but she’d feel a hell of a lot better if the casting directors could find a woman Killian has chemistry with.

They’re busy and all over the place, and most of the time when either of them gets home, they collapse on the couch out of sheer exhaustion and the slightest bit of laziness. Mostly exhaustion, though. When Killian’s home, he joins her after work to run, and they’re far too competitive when, really, they only need to be jogging or something to keep themselves in shape. At least he doesn’t join her at the gym. He goes there on his own. That may kill her. Or both of them.

(She could probably kick his ass in a lot of things there.)

So they’re busy and not always in the same city, but she never thought that it was going to be that way. She knows that Killian is going to be gone sometimes, but she absolutely cannot get over the fact that they’re not having to make these crazy schedules just to see each other’s faces. They come home to the same place, and she’s infinitely glad for that.

Even when she wants to watch TV before she goes to bed and Killian wants the only sound to be the humming of the ceiling fan.

Or when he wakes up ungodly early even though she’s the one who has to go into work.

Living with him full time has definitely taken some adjustments, and she knows that it’ll take a few more, but she kind of thinks that they’re rocking it. They’re probably closer than they’ve ever been, and not just in physical distance, and only this tiny, miniscule part of her is freaking out over living with someone again.

And that tiny, miniscule part is mostly the part of her that likes to sprawl out in bed by herself sometimes or not wash her hair for three days.

Dry shampoo is a miracle worker.

“We have to dust,” Killian mumbles as they walk into the kitchen and flip the switch for the lights to come on. “And light a few candles. I think I’ve got some in the closet. It’s not that bad since I was just here, but I probably need to hire someone who’s more professional than Will to keep everything from getting too stale in here.”

“It’s not bad at all, babe,” she sighs as she takes the few steps to the pantry and walks inside so that she can find the candles, pulling out a few that smell like cinnamon. “You’re just more specific than most people, but we’ll get it all fixed for tomorrow.” She grabs a lighter out of the cabinet, and lights one candle on the island. “When is the food you ordered going to get here? Because it will take far less time to dust and clean up down here than it will to cook.”

“I scheduled it for two, so it about an hour and a half. Do you want to work in the dining room while I do the living room?”

“Sounds like a plan, my man.”

“Well that’s a new one,” he laughs, his lips ticking up into a smile while his brows move across his forehead, his annoyance over needing to clean fading a little bit.

She shrugs and presses her lips together. “It rhymes just the same, though I think I might stick with Stan even though that’s not your name.”

“And yet I respond to it.”

“Because I’ve trained you well.”

She doesn’t wait for his response before walking out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the closet where he keeps all of his cleaning stuff. It took her awhile to figure out everything in this house, but now she’s got it down pretty well. Sometimes Killian’s organizational systems are a little confusing, but since they’re now the same at their apartment, she knows it a little better.

It doesn’t take long to quickly clean everything up, dusting the shelves that are full of trinkets and nice plates, as well as going ahead and setting the table. Killian’s got flowers arriving too, so she gets a few vases out. They should probably take some of these home with them on their flight, or at least ship them. She’s been so undecided on just how many plates they need because it’s only two of them, but since they’re now apparently hosting both Killian’s family and her friends on Christmas Eve, they need more than she thought.

No part of her minds having everyone over. She’s actually really excited for everyone to meet. It’s been so weird having two huge sides of her life not even know each other, but that’s happening now. Killian figured out the logistics of it last week and asked her if she’d be okay with it, and she’d barely batted an eye.

They have to get the apartment unpacked, though. Luckily, it’s only Liam’s family and Anna and Kris staying. Robin is staying to spend Christmas with Roland’s mom’s parents, and Will is working. She’s going to miss them, but she had no idea where they were going to sleep if they came too.

Hotels exist, but she really doesn’t want to make everyone stay in a hotel when she’s over the moon to get to spend the holiday with so many people she loves. She’s had enough lonely ones. A packed house is a good thing. Mostly.

Plus, Killian looked giddy asking her about it, and she wants him to stay that way. There’s been enough darkness.

They finish most of their cleaning when the food and flowers arrive, and after sorting through it all, she sets up the arrangements while Killian gets started on the pies that he’s making. She’d offer to help, but baking is not her thing. Cooking is something she’s getting better at, but baking – that’s a task for another day. By the time she’s added light and color back into the house, it’s nearly time to eat dinner, especially since her body is still in a different time zone, so she wanders back into the kitchen where Killian is humming along to the radio as he concentrates on laying the dough down for his pies. He’s got his tongue sticking out the slightest bit, his teeth most likely clamped down around it, and she has to stifle her laugh at the intensity of his gaze.

At his pie.

Get you a man that looks at you like Killian looks at his pie, she thinks to herself.

“You know people are going to eat that and then it won’t look nice anymore, right?”

“If I were to use that logic, why do you put makeup on in the mornings only to wipe it off at night when you could simply go all day without it?”

“Because I like it, and I don’t mind occasionally stressing out over the evenness of my eyeliner.” He doesn’t look up at her. He simply raises a brow, and she gets his point. “Are you saying me looking nice is equivalent to your pies looking nice?”

Now he does look up at her, his eyes darkening for a moment as his gaze flickers up and down her body, his tongue running across his bottom lip in a move that is honestly indecent. He should not be allowed to do that when she’s not prepared for it.

She’s never prepared for it.

“Well, darling, I don’t mean to compare you to a pie, but you’re both absolutely delicious.”

Her cheeks heat even at the ridiculousness of his words, and she simply shakes her head back and forth. “I can’t tell if you just made pies better or worse with that comparison.”

“Well, we can test that theory out tomorrow after everyone goes home.”

“Or while they’re here if you’re feeling extra adventurous.”

“Scandalous, Swan.”

“I’d say your bedroom door has a lock, but I don’t trust anyone in your family not to break through them. So, yeah, we’ll definitely test it out after they leave.” She taps her fingers on the countertop while Killian goes back to work. “So what are we going to have for dinner tonight?”

“Cereal.”

“A man after my own heart.”

“That’s what I’m going for six days out of seven.”

“What are you doing on the seventh day?”

“Resting from the exhausting job that it is having to romance you.”

“Charmer.”

“I know.”

They spend the rest of the evening prepping for tomorrow, but they’re both exhausted and fall asleep just after the sun completely sets over the water. It’s been awhile since she’s been to California, longer than it usually is, and she’s missed waking up to the sound of the ocean outside. Yeah, they have a view of it in Boston, but it’s definitely different. It doesn’t smell like sand and salt on their balcony, and the sounds of the city drown out any possibility of the ebbs and flows of the ocean reaching her ears.

Each has their own charms.

California to her always means she’s on vacation, though, so she can wake up in the mornings and appreciate it all a little more.

Except right now she’s awake at four in the morning because of whatever mini version of jet lag she has. She’d be a mess if she ever travelled out of the country.

“Go back to sleep,” Killian mumbles into her skin, tightening his arm around her waist and pulling her impossibly closer while he buries his face into her neck, nose and scruff brushing against her and soothing her. He’s not usually groggy in the mornings, is usually not one to lay around in bed to do nothing, but she really appreciates when he does. It’s nice, relaxing, and if she has an itch on her back that she can’t reach, Killian can get it for her.

Killian Jones: Actor, brother, uncle, boyfriend, boating enthusiast, back scratcher.

That’s obviously what goes on his resume. Not necessarily in that order.

“Says the man who has obviously been awake for awhile.”

He grunts in response and tightens his arm around her waist again as his fingers fidget against her t-shirt, messing with it until she can feel the warmth of his hand splayed out against her stomach, tapping against her skin but never moving up to mess with her breasts. He’s very obviously exhausted, and she finds a bit of comfort in it as she shifts herself to get more comfortable so that maybe she can go back to sleep as well.

She doesn’t. Or she can’t.

Her breathing never steadies, her eyes never stay closed, and after an hour of trying with Killian’s steady breathing against her neck, she gives up and reaches for her phone to check it again.

Mary Margaret: Please pray for my sanity today as I spend it with David’s family. James is here, unexpectedly, and I’d shave his head while he’s sleeping if I didn’t want to set a good example for my children.

Emma: They don’t have to know it’s you.

Emma: Sorry, though. I know that he sucks, but this is your one holiday this year with all of David’s family! You can do it!

Mary Margaret: I liked you better when you were cynical.

Emma: No you didn’t. Go eat a pie. You’re not you when you’re hungry.

Mary Margaret: I’m feeding Brody, which is my excuse to get out of the room since everyone in this family wakes up early. Why are you awake?

Emma: Time change. I tried to go back to sleep, but it didn’t work.

Mary Margaret: Would it be dumb of me to ask if you’re up cooking?

Emma: It would. Killian and I prepped last night, and everyone is coming over at two to help.

Mary Margaret: Look at my baby growing up hosting a holiday.

Emma: You are one year older than me.

Mary Margaret: Yeah, but we all know I’m the mom friend.

Emma: Literally.

Mary Margaret: Call me tomorrow, and we’ll share horror stories, okay?

Emma: Promise.

“Who are you texting?” Killian mumbles into her skin, kissing up the cords of her neck until he’s nuzzling his nose just behind her ear so that she can feel a mixture of the heat of his breath on her skin and the coolness of his lips and his tongue as he teases the lobe. Really, she can feel every inch of his body pressed into hers from head to toe. His scruff is burning her skin even with its softness, and his hand is moving from her stomach so that his fingertips ghost over her right nipple, gingerly palming her breast while she feels an ache curl between her thighs. And it doesn’t help at all that Killian’s erection is pressing into her ass.

Well, it might help. But only if she wants to do more than lounge around.

She kind of wants to do more than lounge around.

“Mary Margaret,” she whispers in response, craning her neck to give him more access even though he seems to be pretty determined to work just below her ear in that  spot. “She’s talking about how much Thanksgiving with David’s family sucks.”

Killian clicks his tongue at the same moment that his fingers tease her nipple, applying the slightest bit of pressure that has her arching her back as much as she can, which causes Killian to emit a groan that runs straight to her core, heat further pooling between her thighs.

“Isn’t today a day about being thankful?”

“Only if you don’t have a shitty family.”

He hums in response to that, his lips and his hands still doing wonderous work while she feels her heart tick up a beat – and then one, two, three more. He’s very lazily working her up in the early morning light, most everything still covered in darkness except for the smallest bit of light coming through the windows that fill the walls of this room. She’s still tired, exhaustion running through her, but the only place she can really feel it lingering is under her eyes, the slightest of aches remaining.

“You’re beautiful,” Killian murmurs against her jaw as the hand that’s been resting under her head urges her to twist her neck. She does, and even in the uncomfortableness of it all she’s glad for it as his lips move over hers, softly at first before their tongues curl together as her hand reaches to grab the back of his head, fingers threading through the softness to keep him from moving.

It’s not the most graceful of movements or positions, but she doesn’t care with the way her entire body is tingling, pleasure and anticipation and love all rolled into one. Living with him for the past month, waking up with him nearly every day, has been so damn wonderful even when it’s too hot or too cold in the apartment, even when one of them elbows the other and steals blankets. But what she really likes are the moments like this, the ones as positively dirty as the way Killian bites down harshly on her bottom lip while rocking his hips into her ass and the ones that are as innocent as her tracing the skin underneath the dusting of hair on his chest.

She’s never been this emotionally intimate with anyone despite Killian not being her first love. Or maybe it’s because of that. Maybe she’s loved and lost and learned. Maybe her, maybe both of them, being willing to open themselves up to each other after knowing the heartache that it can bring is what allows them both to be this trusting.

This loving.

She pulls back when she has to breathe, her chest heaving while heat continues to simmer below the surface of her skin threatening to break free, and Killian’s hands move from her breasts and down her stomach, his nails digging into the skin of her hipbone while she watches his eyelids flutter open, the blue barely visible despite their closeness. That’s when she arches her back, when she aches for more, and the moan that passes through Killian’s lips is one she wants to remember forever.

“Emma, bloody hell, love.”

“Are you complaining?”

“God, no,” he growls while his hand finds its way under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, deft fingers quickly teasing her in a way that has every inch of her skin prickling and hair sticking up while he teases her. “I’d spend every morning riling you up like this if it were physically possible.”

“I know, if only my old man had the stamina.”

He nips at her neck then, sliding a finger inside of her at the same time, and with the buzzing in her ear, she can’t quite hear what he’s saying. She’s sure that it’s something about aching muscles and it being physically impossible for anyone, but honestly, she doesn’t care. All she cares about is the way that he’s building her up. They’re still fully dressed, haven’t moved from the way that they woke up, but she’s still experiencing on of the most glorious lazy mornings of her life.

And that’s exactly how it goes. Killian doesn’t seem to be in any hurry despite the fact that she can feel him straining against her, and he takes his time working her up higher and higher and higher while his lips continue to move against hers or against his neck. She’s in a haze, everything blurry around her, and when she tries to move positions, Killian doesn’t let her. Instead he whispers in her ear for her to be patient, and she listens.

She listens to everything that he says, every sweet caress and dirty word. He’s a talker, always has been, and sometimes she wonders how the kindest man she’s ever known can think of things to say that would make nearly anyone blush for weeks on end. She knows that he has his rough and dirty sides, that he’s not always the man who will laugh at her dumb jokes with genuine affections, but sometimes it’s easy to forget with the softness that he’s always showing her.

“Move your shorts down, darling,” he groans, moving his hand away from her core just as she felt that her trembling was about to stop and turn into a wave of release.

“Bastard.”

“Technically, no.”

She chuckles into the pillow while she shimmies her bottoms off of her, taking her underwear with them. It’s not the most graceful thing in the world, especially with the ache that’s still remaining between her thighs, but then Killian is grabbing her leg and lifting it over his bare hip while his cock gently slaps against her. The friction is wonderful, deliciously warm and slippery, and she’d stay grinding against him if she didn’t know just how good it feels when he’s inside of her.

As she turns her head to kiss him again, wanting to be connected as much as they can, he guides himself into her, stretching her with his thickness and the angle while he settles inside of her. She has to squeeze her eyes shut even more tightly and stop the movements of her lips as he begins to gently rock inside of her, the depth and the position driving her back into the madness that she was so close to getting a few moments ago.

Like everything else this morning, it’s a slow push and pull that reaches every inch of her, her blood running hot through her veins while her heart beats an unsteady rhythm that she’s not sure she ever wants to beat steady again. Killian’s arm tightens around her stomach while her hand stays anchored in his hair, the other bunching into the sheets, and she stretches her leg out a little more as Killian shifts to go deeper inside of her, the both of them groaning with the movement and the change.

For some reason this morning feels different, like they’re closer somehow, but she knows that it’s not true. There’s no added meaning to the thrust of his hips or of the way that his fingers continue to tease her breasts or her clit as his lips move against her mouth and her jaw. It’s all the same, but she wants to savor it, savor the gentle rocking, the gentle push and pull.

She wants to savor this love that she’s somehow managed to find.

She wants to savor not hitting the bullseye over a year ago.

She wants to savor hitting it in an entirely different way.

When her release hits her, a shudder runs through her while her muscles tense, the heat of her body and Killian’s body wrapped around her intense while her heart thumps against her ribcage. She knows that she says his name, she really does, but for a few seconds, she’s not exactly sure what’s going on until Killian’s hips start thrusting into hers at a quicker pace. She can hear the slap of skin, the rhythm of his thrusts, and for a moment she thinks it might match up with the waves outside as the bedroom begins to lighten, the sun rising above the ocean outside and welcoming the day.

The start of her day might be better.

He’s thrusting with purpose, the moves sharp, and she can feel him pulse and twitch inside of her when he reaches his release, coming undone with a muttering of her name and his love with her and a “fuck” about every other word. They both take a few moments to breathe, their bodies moving in tandem as sweat rolls over both of their skin, and she can still feel the hot twitch of Killian inside of her. He must feel it too because he thrusts up into her while his lips form into a smile in the back of her neck.

She can’t see it, but she knows.

“I love you, my darling,” he sighs into her ear, a whisper soft enough to diminish any of the roughness he just displayed. “You are the thing I am most thankful for in this world.”

Her heart practically breaks through its chambers, her ribcage, and then her flesh at his words, and she shakes her head into the pillow, scratching his scalp with her nails. “Did you just fuck me so that you could make a joke about Thanksgiving?”

“It was my intention.”

Laughter rumbles through her chest, and she twists her head again to look at him. This time she can see the blue of his eyes, the lightness of the blue mixed with the darkness of desire, and she leans down to kiss his nose.

“You’re the most ridiculous man in the world.”

“Aye, I’m thinking about getting that monogrammed on my towels.”

“I love you,” she laughs, kissing his cheek just over his scar while she idly thinks that they’re going to have to wash the sheets if they don’t move soon. She doesn’t want to move, especially with the way Killian’s fingers are tapping against her stomach. “You come in second on my list of things I am most thankful for, KJ.”

“And what would be the first?”

“All of the food that is currently in your freezer.”

His entire face scrunches up, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and she wishes her phone was in her hand so she could capture that moment. She’ll try to memorize it all the same.

“I’d argue with you, but the food downstairs is damn good. And I feel like eating like a king today and then taking a nice nap with you and possibly Aiden.”

“Aiden?”

“He gets tired when he eats too much.”

“I don’t really think he’s going to be eating the feast today. He’s one and a half.”

“Aye, I know, but he’ll try.”

They do eventually get up and get out of bed, their lazy morning quickly dissolving as they each shower and get ready for the day. Killian can get ready so much faster than her, and she hates it as he steps in and out of the shower in the time it takes her to run lotion up and down her leg and wash her face. A part of her wants to curl her hair and do her makeup nicely since it’s a holiday, but she decides to let her hair dry naturally, the curls framing her face and trailing down her back while she pulls on a pair of light wash jeans that have holes in the knees and then finds her cream sweater in her suitcase. She’s relaxed here, and she really shouldn’t have to feel any other way.

She doesn’t bother eating breakfast when she gets down to the kitchen. Instead she takes the cup of coffee Killian hands her and sips on it while he runs through his checklist of everything they need to today. There’s really no reason for him to worry because once everyone is here, they’ll have more help than they know what to do with. Sure enough, Elsa and Aiden walk through the door a quarter before two with Liam, Anna, and Kris trailing behind them carrying bags and boxes of food. Aiden wobbles a bit as he runs to her, and she quickly scoops him up and kisses his cheek while he babbles to her as much as he can.

“Oh my God,” Anna squeals, dropping her bags onto the counter before she’s wrapping Emma in a hug, squishing Aiden between them, “I am so dang excited to see you! It’s been too long. Seriously, you cannot let it go that long again.”

“You guys are coming in for Christmas next month, right? That’s not long.”

“True,” Anna huffs, pulling back and smiling up at her. “We’re going to be there and see your pretty new place. Elsa has shown me pictures, and it’s just gorgeous. I bet it’ll look great with the Christmas decorations.”

“It’d look great if we could get everything unpacked,” Killian adds, and she rolls her eyes.

“We’ll get there.”

“I’m surprised Killian isn’t already there,” Liam says as he walks toward her and kisses her cheek in greeting while his fingers reach out to mess with his son, taking him out of her arms. “We all know the man and his ways. He’d go sleep deprived if it meant he could have everything in order.”

“That is so hypocritical, babe,” Elsa points out as she starts getting ready to pop the turkey in the oven. “You both are exactly the same, and Killian is likely that way because of you.”

“That is not true.”

“It definitely is.”

“Liam is much more specific,” Killian says, but she doesn’t believe that.

“I think you might win that, KJ.”

“I still cannot believe this family argues over who is more anal about cleanliness.”

“You married into it, Kris.”

“Technically I married Anna whose sister married into it. I never expected to be this close to you all, but when all of our parents live overseas, shit happens.”

“Language,” Robin whistles as he, Roland, and Will walk into the house, everyone a mess of limbs and greetings. Obviously no one here knocks or rings the doorbell. They really need to work on that.

“But what are we talking about? What shi – shoot?” Will stutters, his gaze falling to the ground when Robin glares at him even though Roland is not paying any attention to them as he talked to Killian, his hands moving all over the place while Killian makes sure to intently listen to every word.

“About how you’re all foreigners celebrating Thanksgiving with one American,” she tells Will, jumping up on the counter so that her feet dangle over the edge.

“Technically my son is American. He was born here, as was his mum,” Robin sighs, and she knows not to press any further on Roland’s mother. Killian’s told her the story of her death, and she doesn’t need to know more.

“Aiden is too. Well, we all are now. We just weren’t born here.”

“And Elsa makes the desserts to prove it,” Killian points out as he sets out a few wrapped plates on the counter next to her before coming to stand between her splayed legs, settling himself there while his thumbs rest just above her hipbones for the briefest of moments while he brushes his lips over the corner of her mouth. “They’re Kanelbullar, which is a cinnamon roll. You’ll like them.”

“Did you make these for me, Els?” she asks, wrapping her arms around Killian’s shoulders and leaning her head to the right so she can see everyone.

“You know that I did. I stopped making Liam’s favorite dessert because he complained about it last time.”

“You complained about the turkey, and I still prepared it.”

“Oi, you can’t have Thanksgiving without the turkey, mate. That’s just wrong.”

“We could have a Cornish hen or something.”

“It’s not the same. If I wanted knock off food, I could have stayed at the bar.”

“You could still go back,” Killian mumbles to Will, twisting his head to look at him before he’s looking back at her with his brows moving across his forehead and his lips curling into a wicked grin. His face is stupid attractive. “Who knows if Liam is going to mess up the turkey or not? He claims to cook it, but we all knows it’s usually Els or Anna.”

“Stop,” she mouths, running the tips of her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “He’s going to poison your food or something, and then I’ll have to unpack all of those boxes at home by myself.”

“That’s why you’re concerned with me getting poisoned?”

She shrugs her shoulders, tapping against his neck. “Again, you’re only second on my list of things I’m most thankful for.”

“Bloody hell,” Will groans, and she doesn’t bother to look over at him. She knows that his face is disgusted. “Can you two get a room?”

“We could, but you’d probably still be able to hear us.”

She scoffs as she slaps the back of his head, her lips gaping open at the disbelief that he just said that. Killian doesn’t have a response. He simply winks at her before stepping out of her embrace and moving back to the island to help out Elsa and Robin who have been very diligently getting all of the food ready while Anna and Kris run around with the kids who are hopefully not paying any attention to this.

“Anyways,” Liam sighs, settling himself down on a barstool, “yes, we make an odd Thanksgiving, but I am personally a fan of a holiday that means I can eat without shame.”

“Amen to that.”

“There should be a little shame.”

“Definitely not.”

“Nope.”

“I say calories don’t count today, but I’m also wearing loose jeans.”

Once everyone settles down, it’s a mess in the house as they get everything ready. Everywhere she turns there’s someone to run into or step away from. She can’t imagine what it’s like for those people who over thirty family members who all come together for one day. The food is one thing, but it’s got to be overwhelming to hear that many voices at once. She’ll never know what that’s like, but she enjoys the small group of people that they’ve got, especially as it keeps growing with her friends, even if they aren’t here.

It’s a nice day out today, the wind having calmed, so she moves all of their dishes out to the table on the back deck so everyone can eat out there with the view of the ocean in the background. Anna helps her get a folding table out to keep some excess food on, and while everyone else is working inside, they take Roland and Aiden out to the sand while Anna catches her up on work and life lately.

She tells her all about the new television show she’s designing costumes for and about how she and Kris might be moving to New York because of it, and excitement fills her as she thinks about having them on the east coast as well. It’s not super close, but it’s closer than this. Though she does wonder if Anna will be this peppy and excited to see her if they were able to see each other a little more often.

Most likely. She’s pretty sure that Anna is always this happy.

“Emma, can I go swimming?”

“Do you think your dad will let you go swimming in that cold water in your nice sweater, Rol?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I can catch a fish for us to eat.”

She barks out a laugh while she picks Aiden up from the ground and dusts his legs off. “I don’t think we’re eating any fish today, Rol, but maybe we can go swimming on another day?”

Roland shrugs before his steps line up with hers, and she’s glad to have avoided some kind of tantrum. She’s not too sure if he throws tantrums, but kids are weird. Not being able to swim could have somehow pushed one of his buttons.

“My dad has a girlfriend.”

“I know. He told me.”

“He kisses her.”

“I would hope so.”

“Dad says that you’re Killian’s girlfriend and that he kisses you.”

“This is true,” she laughs, glancing over at Anna who can do nothing but hold her hands up in defeat. “I am Killian’s girlfriend.”

“Are you guys going to get married?”

She nearly falls into the sand, face first, and brings Aiden down with her, but she manages not to, digging her toes into the ground and steadying herself while her entire face heats. A seven year old just asked her if she was going to marry Killian. Of all the people who she thought would bring it up first, it was not Roland.

At least it’s not in front of more than just Anna.

Oh shit. Anna’s definitely going to tell everyone about this.

“I don’t know, Rol,” she answers honestly. “Maybe.”

“But don’t you love him? Dad says he can’t marry Gina because he doesn’t love her yet. But I heard you tell Killian that you love him.”

“That’s a good point,” she sighs, racking her brain to try to figure out how to have this conversation. “You shouldn’t marry someone you don’t love, and I do love your Uncle Killian. But I don’t know if we’re going to get married. Not right now at least. Maybe later.”

“Are you going to have cake when you do?”

“We’ll have cake, yeah? Why don’t you run inside and see if the food is ready, okay?”

Roland nods his head, the curls flopping on his scalp, before he’s running off, sand kicking off behind him while Anna takes a step toward her and locks their arms together.

“You are not at all smooth.”

“The kid caught me off guard,” she whines, adjusting Aiden in her arm. “I wasn’t exactly expecting an interrogation about my intentions with Killian. At least not from Roland.”

“You figured Liam would give you one?”

“Nah, he’s already done that.”

“True. So,” she starts, bumping her shoulder into Emma’s, “are you going to marry Killian?”

“Anna.”

“What? It’s a fair question. You let Roland ask.”

“That’s totally not the same,” she groans before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t know. We’ve – we want a future together. We’ve talked about it, but, like, in future type turns. If he asked me, though, I’d say yes.”

She always thought the admission would be terrifying, but surprisingly, it’s not.

It’s…natural.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I love that ridiculous fool, and I trust him with every single fiber of my being.”

“Swan,” Killian yells from the deck, his voice trailing away as it reaches her, “get your fine arse up here so we can eat.”

“Language, Jones,” she shouts back.

“I promise you that is actually the more appropriate comment I wanted to make about your assets.”

“Ah, true love,” Anna sighs, resting her cheek on Emma’s shoulder while she tries to contain her laughter.

“Something like that.”

[packhuntcr]

♒ - cooking/food headcanon asked by @thehearsc

Attempt #2 because tumblr ate more than half the first one, about which I’m super salty.

So, you totally only asked for one but...

I have lots of thoughts on this subject, okay?

Thought #1: Watery mac and cheese? Ten thousand percent the responsibility of one (1) Jacob Seed. But it’s not incompetence. Think about it. The boys grew up poor. Mac and cheese was cheap, plentiful, filling. They ate an asston of that boxed mac and cheese crap. And, being the oldest, Jacob was the one to make it. So, eliminating incompetence as a reason... it was absolutely an unsubtle protest to Joseph asking him to go. True, it’s a rare time even Joseph can make that great ginger sasquatch do something he doesn’t want to do. But just because he wasn’t forced doesn’t mean he had any kind of desire to share oxygen in the same vicinity as Nick Rye or any other idiot. And vexation loves company every inch as much as misery. So, that tupperware of sloppy noodles and processed cheese-product gets dropped onto the table, staring Joseph dead in the eye with a ‘I’m only here because of you and you bet your skinny ass I ain’t happy about it’ expression. I’m pretty sure it was a culinary ‘fuck you’ to Hot for Preacher and every other soul at that barbecue. 

Thought #2: Going back to jacob’s familiarity with cheap, crappy food. Jacob grew up in a house that lived paycheck-to-paycheck in the best of times. As he got older and the number of mouths to feed increased, it became paycheck-to-it-might-be-awhile-before-the-next-paycheck. Throw in there their mother’s progression to a breathing ghost that can’t be assed to rouse to the cries of her children, and it wasn’t Mrs. Seed cooking. It was Jacob.

And not well.

Especially earlier on, before John came along, Jacob had a talent for both burning and undercooking the same item of foodstuff. It got better with practice, but there was precious little to work with. Fresh produce or meat was rare. The boys always ate like preppers: canned, items from that sad clearance shelf in the grocery, things that were cheap, filling, shelf stable. And when the pantry went empty, it was the eldest son out scraping together enough to fill his brother’s empty bellies. Jacob begged. He borrowed, he stole, he hoarded what he could from other sources. Some evenings after school saw Jacob waiting for the food pantry in a line that stretched around the corner, the tips of his ears burning bright as his red hair. But sating hunger, feeding his brothers was more important than his pride. Seasonings were expensive, intimidating to a boy who had to teach himself to turn on the stove to warm the contents of  a steel can. More so, they did nothing to quiet the hunger and thus, were ruled unnecessary. Though he loved both his brothers, John was easily the favorite. John had no memory of their mother’s cooking, knew no other source of nutrition. So the baby happily ate whatever mess Jacob could pull together where Joseph had to force down a mess of oatmeal, peaches in heavy syrup, and vienna sausage. Which doesn't sound awful... Until you consider it was totally mixed together in one pot. But they were fed, went to bed with stomachs that didn’t growl most nights. It was enough.

Thought #3: If you think of it, school lunches were probably the only reliable source of food Jacob knew. They didn’t even last that long, but they were reliable up until that point. And there’s Jacob, at lunch knowing he’s got brothers at home without it. Knowing that the meal that evening or over the weekend isn’t guaranteed. So Jacob’s going to hoard food. He’ll never eat a full portion, not even of school’s sad PB&J. The boy grows up on half-portions, just enough to get by that he might have something to take back to share, to tuck away for thinner times. Dude’s thin most of his life. 6′4″ and gangling, but on such a broad frame. Jacob Seed wasn’t made to be slim. Look at the size of his hands, the breadth of his shoulders. 

The first time Jacob finishes a meal without being hungry, he’s 18 and in the army. 18 fucking years old before he goes to bed with a full belly. Because, up until that point, he’s been too poor, been setting food aside, been trying to feed two more on enough for one. By the time he’s made it through Basic, most of his hope of finding his brothers again is beat out of him. He’s also in a place where food is plentiful, pushed upon him. He’s got a bit of money for the first time in his life and exists in a system that wants him healthy and strong. And lord does that boy fill out. Jacob, in his twenties, is a mountain of a man. Towering, that broad frame finally filled out with the physical labor to ensure it’s all muscle. Then that third tour happens. Miller happens. And Jacob never wants to be that hungry again. So the hoarding resumes. And it never stops. Not when he’s homeless. Not when his brothers find him again.

I guarantee you there are caches of food throughout the county. Jacob is a beast about waste. Take enough, take what you need, store the rest. By the time we see him in Hope, dude’s had a reliable source of nutrition for 8-10 years at minimum. But he’s still thin; his hands look massive compared to his body, disproportionately so. He hasn’t rebuilt that muscle that he lost. Because rebuilding and maintaining that frame is excessive. He doesn’t need it and he’d rather set that food aside for later when things won’t be so easy. You bet your ass he has nightmares about those first few years if he survives the Collapse. Jacob's the one going "no, fuck you we need food for ten years, not seven" and living in terror of blight and nuclear winter.

Thought #4: Pork. I see many within this fandom expressing Jacob’s refusal to eat pork, his inability to stand the smell of cooking bacon. And I totally get it. I mean, there’s a reason people are referred to as long pig. And, of course, the incident with Miller is a hugely traumatic moment. It's a moment that left mental scars every bit as prolific as the physical ones. But, for me and my Jacob, this fails to take into account his pragmatism, the overwhelming practicality of the man. Think about it: henrefers to people as ‘meat’. He actually went so far as to overcome taboo and kill his friend in the desert and consume him in order to survive. 

And pork’s cheap. It’s prolific. It’s an easy choice when feeding the hundreds of the project. It cans easily in many forms. Jacob’s not going to turn it down. He’s known hunger. He’s known starvation. And he’s not going to waste a thing. Jacob Seed would eat your fucking puppy before going hungry. He’d eat you. Hell, the only ones he wouldn’t eat are John and Joseph. Even that is only because, without them, he doesn’t much want to survive. So yeah, Jacob will eat pork. Jacob will eat just about anything you lay before him. He’s probably the only Seed to not turn green at the notion of the Testy Festy. It’s just meat.

What will get him though, is scent. See, when he and Miller got separated int he ambush, they weren’t completely without supplies. Each had only what they carried. A camel-back of water each, the contents of their packs and pockets. There’s a bit in the way of snacking there. Enough for a day or two. But Miller, ever a vain man, Miller had a can of body spray in his pack, guard against the desert sun and BDUs. And he used it. Prolifically. One small comfort in a pit of misery, who’d blame the man? Jacob. That’s who. Jacob would swear Miller went through that entire can in a matter of days. Out in the middle of BFE and the man reeked like an Axe cloud in an under-ventilated middle school locker room. It was pervasive, irritating Jacob’s sensitive nose. So much so that he’d swear he could taste it in the meat pulled from a spit over a small fire. But he ate it.

That’s the trigger for Jacob- strong smells. We all know more than half of men’s soaps, deodorants, and sprays smell the same. And dude cannot stand it. It feeds into his grimy state. Who’d want to bathe regularly with that memory in a bottle right there? Given the years, the severity of the trauma, it’s spread. Any strong, chemically manufactured scent will remind Jacob. He thinks John fucking reeks with all that hair product, cologne, fine soaps and detergents. 

[stone-butch-blue]

tbh i can barely afford rent (i cant actually several people help me with it) and ive considered planting some stuff inside in a box myself BUT ITS HARDER THAN YOU THINK. keeping plants alive is tough for me, in fact i have to keep mint for pest control and i havent managed to keep one longer than a few months yet. also they got infested with bugs once, and they pooped everywhere so. the only reason im considering it is because i have NO car and cant go to the grocery store often or carry a lot home since i have to walk. so yes you can do it inside. if you have the time. if you have the energy. if youre good at it. if you can afford a bag of soil on top of everything else and some seeds. dont be a dick to poor people because the system keeps people poor on purpose. you cant just stop being poor unless you get win the lottery level luck in one way or another. sorry lol but i cant imagine even thinking about growing plants or keeping pets if i worked long hours. me putting some lettuce in a box and hoping it grows and pays off, and me having cats? thats a PRIVILEGE. a privilege i will have to pay for if i ever have to choose between feeding the cats or myself (them, duh, but it would be tough on me) which could happen any time living paycheck to paycheck.

there actually ARENT huge swaths of people who just suck at being alive so bad theyre squandering their rent money on expensive coffee and believe me a coffee once in awhile, or a treat from the dollar aisle is NECESSARY. you have to or you go insane. i absolutely have chosen art supplies over eating because nothing else brings me as much joy and i would rot away without it. like yes im already painting on paper bags and cardboard boxes and using the cheapest pens. im doing it all right and i still occasionally have to choose between a meal and a handful of ¢75 bottles of acrylic paint and some charcoal. life wouldnt be worth living otherwise. id straight up jump off a bridge without art. let people be too tired to grow their own food, let people make the occasional ""unwise"" decision and let people exist as best they can. ESPECIALLY when they live in food deserts or high cost areas by necessity (i cannot move two hours away change all my doctors leave my family and god forbid i lose a job it's so hard to find one as a disabled psycho whos brain is dissolving) like i am not doing this on purpose. EVERYONE assumes im doing this on purpose or im bad at everything. i would not live this way if i had any other choice buuuut i dont so. shut up or put your money where your mouth is and donate to food pantries so people dont HAVE to choose between a coffee once a week and eating actual food. (i dont think people realize how sick living on cup noodles and sandwiches that are one slice of meat and some cheese if youre lucky)

just let us fucking live lmao your "victory garden" is a privilege and we cant all do that!!!

very fucking disheartening that im seeing so many fuckin people talk about how gas prices have risen so much and pay has been stagnant that they are now fucking losing more money fuckin driving for/to work and dont know how theyre going to survive and pay for rent and food and supporting their family because theyre now earning less than minimum wage because of inflation and then seeing wealthier liberals going "HAVE YOU CONSIDERED SAVING $70,000 FOR AN ELECTRIC CAR?" or "MAYBE YOU SHOULD CUT BACK ON THE VANILLA MOCHA DOUBLE ICED WHITE FRAPPUCHINOS 🤪" and my favorite "HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT BUDGETING HARDER???" like god damn these bitches are really asking to dragged out of their houses and executed on the street

[theliterateape]

Escaping The Crushing Need

by Don Hall

My mother-in-law is choking on a mouthful of half chewed Tostitos and she can’t breathe. She’s clawing at her throat and making the most horrifying sound I can recall. For a beat I think maybe I could just let her die right here. I violently shake that thought away like swatting away a hornet intent on plunging it’s stinger in my face and perform my best version of the Heimlich maneuver until she’s breathing again.

I’m sitting in a giant seafood place in Libertyville, IL with my four-year girlfriend and her sister who has Down Syndrome. My girlfriend is intentionally disdaining of her sister who is so disabled she can’t cut her food so I turn, smile, and assist. My girlfriend turns to me, frustrated at the attention being denied her and asks if I can go get her some iced tea because her own burgeoning disability is causing her pain. For a beat I think is this my life now? Care-taking two grown disabled women, both clawing for my affection? I determine at that moment that I will break up with them both in the near future.

I’m on the back porch of a home in Las Vegas purchased by a friend with so much physical disability he has a morphine bag surgically attached. He has once again undertaken a yard task that he is overwhelmed by and is looking at me with a mixture of spiteful pride, childish anger, and an unspoken demand that I help him. For a beat I think when we moved out here, he promised he would not live like an invalid hermit. That I would not be tasked with a constant state of supporting his hoarder whims. I help him but know that my time in this place cannot be defined by his crushing and incessant need.

✶

I’d like to think that I am, on the whole, a positive force in the tiny patch of the world I inhabit. I’d like to believe that I’m capable of being what Langston Hughes once wrote ‘of use.’ I’m 80% certain that if my mother or father became disabled enough that they needed me to function as a nurse, I would do it with no hesitation or if my wife was hit by a bus and struck down, I would be her arms and legs.

I don’t know and this bothers me.

✶

When I met my first wife and subsequently her family, I was greeted with her grandmother, an old battle-axe with a will of iron who’s daughter was a diagnosed schizophrenic and raised as an adult baby. Grandma had raised my wife as well and the tiny Texas home she kept was like a grungy nursing home after her granddaughter left for college.

By the time we had been married for nearly a decade, Grandma (who threw rocks and gravel at me while others tossed rice at our wedding) died and the subject of what to do about my severely overweight, child-like schizoid mother-in-law was broached. We decided to drive her up from Texas to live with us in Chicago because we didn’t know any better.

My wife suddenly found multiple reasons to be out of the house, leaving me as the recipient of a litany of desperate need. I had to put a padlock on the pantry because our new houseguest had such poor impulse control she would gorge herself on anything she could get her hands on (including but not limited to eating whole sticks of butter, jars of mayonnaise, and anything remotely resembling a cookie).

She was terrified of strange noises and would scream as if attacked if, while I was writing up in the attic and dared move enough to cause a squeak on the ceiling above her, she thought I was an intruder. When she didn’t get exactly what she wanted when she wanted it, like a 300 lb. toddler, she would throw an epic tantrum and accuse me of abusing her.

For months I walked around my home as if any sharp turn might awaken the non-stop fulfilling of almost anything this broken person could conceive. This is not what I want for my life, this is not who I am supposed to be.

The breaking point came when, after she had managed to find a bag of Tostitos and sat in a chair in the living room, shoving whole handfuls into her mouth, barely chewing them, and swallowing the jagged pieces, she started to choke.

I’d like to believe that the brief thought of letting her die at that moment was Not Me but it was Me. The thought of pretending I was out in the yard and came up to find her dead on the floor was like an addict contemplating a fix. Like Papillon staring over the cliff into the sea, the idea of escape was seductive.

The steps then taken to immediately find her a home (as in nursing, old folks, or retirement) were necessary and deliberate and, ultimately, doomed any hope that the marriage would last much longer following.

✶

Alice both loved and hated her sister, Julie. Julie was older than she and lived on a ranch facility with others afflicted with Down Syndrome. When I met Julie, she immediately started asking me if I was her boyfriend. When we would pick her up for a visit — to the zoo, to a restaurant she liked, to a movie — Alice would stare into her phone, occasionally bark an order at either Julie or me, and put the digital blinders on.

As time trampled on, I found that, as far as Julie was concerned, I was her boyfriend. I walked with her while Alice stomped out ahead of us. I made sure her seat belt was buckled. I made sure she had the exact food she wanted and helped her eat it. When she would come to stay with us for weekends, I washed her clothes, washed her face, tucked her into bed.

As it was only once in awhile, it didn’t seem too much until, in a bizarre method of sharing, Alice wrote an essay about her own chronic condition which she had been hiding from me for four years and was, according to the essay she asked me to proofread, was bound to get worse. The possibility of her needing a wheelchair in the near future was mentioned.

This is not fucking fair. We’ve been together under false pretenses and I’m now expected to be the ‘good boyfriend’ to two slowly declining grown women, both requiring my full attention and prone to demanding things rather than requesting help. If I leave, I’m a monster. If I stay, I’ve been consigned to a life of servitude.

I chose monster and left. It didn’t go well.

✶

Prior to moving to Las Vegas, I was frank with Matthew.

“Dude, to be clear, I’m not looking to live with an invalid hermit. I know that’s harsh but you’ve spent the past five years or so building out your house so that you really never have to leave. You sleep in the living room, in your bedroom, in a chair. There are Mountain Dew bottles, half drunk, everywhere and the only friends you seem to have are people whom you pay to come over to help you with projects that you get too tired to finish.”

“You’re right and I want to change things. I want a social life and a girlfriend. I think Vegas is exactly the new beginning I need.”

Either he was lying to me or to himself or both.

I should have seen the sign of things to come at Christmastime, a month and change before we moved to the desert. My wife and he went to go get a tree. His bizarre hoarding tendency was tools and maintenance stuff so a trip to Home Depot became an epic journey through every aisle as he contemplated buying yet another cordless drill or a roll of bubble wrap. Dana was frustrated at what became another wasted evening following him around amidst the bargain tool sections so she found a tree, bought it, and put it on top of his truck before he had turned into the final aisle. He was furious. He wanted to pick the tree out. He wanted a much bigger tree despite us all moving out in a month.

Dana and I decorated the now hated tree and he refused to even look at it. He pouted around, mumbling about what a shitty tree it was until, while we were away in Kansas, he tore it down, threw all of our ornaments into a now lost box, and trashed it.

By the time we landed on the vistas of the Mojave, this tendency was manifest. He let Dana, myself, and his long-time roommate from Chicago, Kelli, unpack the huge semi-truckload of his belongings without even bothering to show up until three days later. He struggled to set things up for his physical ease in exactly the same way he had done in Chicago. He constantly complained about not being invited to outings that he inevitably was never interested in attending. He was disabled and it made him angry. He would pull me aside to talk about his desire to kill himself, his own self-loathing, his hatred for his new house, his new neighborhood, the heat, and Las Vegas in general. Unlike the tree, he couldn’t just trash an entire city in a fit of pique so he stewed and complained.

He would offer us all money to go buy him cigarettes and Mountain Dew rather than walk a few blocks to get it himself. He would sleep in the middle of the day in the living room with migraines and then totter around at night, using his power tools while the rest of us tried to sleep. He hired a local handyman to build him a shed for all of these tools. Once it was filled, he decided he needed another shed. While he constantly complained about money, he continued to spend thousands on more hardware, half-baked and unfinished projects, and new appliances.

This is not the life I bargained for. His need and anger is more than I want to deal with. We have to get out of the place if it’s the last thing we ever do.

Dana and I decided to move out. He and I stopped speaking to one another after, for a third time, he told me that Dana was crazy and needed professional help. We gave him notice and he turned off our access to the internet. Three weeks later, we were out. Almost seconds from when we left, Kelli decided she couldn’t take it anymore and asked us to help her find her own place. By the time we moved her, he came out to unlock the place so I could get the futon we gave her with a pistol on his hip, as if sitting around by himself in his rage and desperation fueled paranoia and conspiracy theories about the three of us.

✶

At 53, I’m still in solid shape and my health is pretty good. I suspect that there will come a time in a future that is closer than I’d like to imagine, when I may be saddled with my own disability: being old. If there’s anything I’ve learned is that I do not want to burden others with my need. I have faced that sort of narcissistic pain from others and I cannot, in good conscience, expect the people in my life to bow down in abeyance to my infirmity.

I’d rather be hit by a bolt of lightning and fried dead on the spot.

[emmaswritingdump]

Welcome to New York- Chapter Five: The Bleeding Superheroine on Liam’s Balcony

Words: 2110

Ch 1 // Ch 4 // Ch 6

Masterlist

Summary: Oooooops it's a sad one

Her progress was slower than she would have liked, but she was still doing it. She had to stop to rest frequently, but she was still doing it.

Finally, she arrived on the roof of her apartment building, suddenly realizing she didn't know how to get in without revealing her identity.

There was a door to the inside from the roof, but it was locked, as were all the windows to her apartment. The only unlocked door through which she could go was the front entry- but if anyone saw the placement of her injury, even as Marinette, they could notice that she was injured in the same place as Ladybug, realize that they're both French and have dark hair, and put two and two together.

However...

By that point, it was nearly four o'clock. She knew Liam would be home by now; he always got home early.

And their apartment had a balcony.

She had planned on telling her fiancé about her alter ego eventually, but she never imagined she would be in the suit and bleeding heavily when it happened.

But it was her only option.

Ladybug moved to the side of the building on which their balcony resided and thought for a moment. The building had fifteen floors, and they lived on the eleventh floor. She knew their balcony was the fourth from the left, because they had once set a large stuffed animal in the window and gone up to the eleventh floor of the building next door to see where it was.

She found what she thought- and really, really hoped- was their balcony, anchored her yo-yo, and began to lower herself down to it.

When she finally reached it after what seemed like an eternity, she cautiously peered in through the glass door to confirm she had the right room.

The doors opened up into the living room, and she could see Liam sitting on the couch, watching the story about the explosion unfold on the news.

She pulled herself over the railing of the balcony, took a deep breath to steel herself for Liam's reaction, and hesitantly rapped on the balcony door.

She watched as Liam turned around, surprised, and his eyes widened at the sight of a bloodstained superheroine from another continent standing on his balcony.

He quickly stood from the couch and rushed to open the door.

"Ladybug, what are you-" he froze as he stared at her face. "Wait, Marinette?"

Her stomach lurched. "How- how did you know?"

"One, I don't know what other French woman would be knocking on my balcony door," Liam said. "And two, did you really think I wouldn't recognize my own fiancée?"

Ladybug shrugged. "I mean, my parents and friends never figured it out," she said slowly through the pain. "You're actually the first person who- ah!"

Ladybug winced as a sharp pain shot through her, originating in the wound in her side. She doubled over and clutched the wound, and Liam gasped.

"Mari, oh jeez, come inside!"

Ladybug stumbled inside and detransformed, then collapsed onto the tile between the living room and the open kitchen of the apartment.

"Marinette, are you okay?" a tiny voice asked frantically. "You really should have let Chat Noir take you to the hospital."

Marinette looked at her kwami, who was perched on her knee, looking weary and concerned.

"I'm okay, Tikki," she said. "You need to eat some cookies to recharge."

She turned to Liam, who was staring in shock at the kwami. "Liam, will you please get her some cookies?"

He looked at Marinette, his eyes wide. "Get her some cookies? You're thinking about cookies right now?"

"She needs them," Marinette insisted.

Liam took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I'll get her some cookies." He went into the pantry and returned after a moment with a package of Oreos, opening them and holding them out to the kwami. "Here you go, um... enormous talking insect."

"Thank you," Tikki squeaked, then quickly began munching on cookies.

"Okay, Liam," Marinette said, drawing his attention back to herself. "Now, please go into the bedroom and open the top drawer on my side of the dresser."

"You said you didn't want me going through your stuff."

"I'll make an exception this time," Marinette said patiently. Liam was obviously having a hard time processing the current events. "Open my top drawer and dig to the very bottom in the very back. You'll find a big box. Please bring it to me."

Liam nodded and began walking to their shared bedroom. He was paler than usual, and his eyes were wide and vacant-looking. Marinette felt bad for him; he must have been in a lot of shock.

Liam quickly returned with the box and handed it to her as he sat down on the floor next to her.

"Why did you have a first-aid kit buried in your sock drawer?"

"Because it's not a normal first aid kit," she responded as she opened it up to reveal a multitude of surgical tools that aren't present in normal first-aid kits.

"What the heck, Mari?"

"I bought all this stuff shortly after I became Ladybug," she said as she dug through the kit. "Tikki- that's her name by the way, and she's not an insect, she's a kwami- told me it would be a good idea for me to be prepared in case there came a day when we had to fight something that wasn't an akuma, and Chat Noir or I got seriously injured but I couldn't use my lucky charm to fix it. I never actually thought that day would arrive, but after seventeen years, it finally has. Tikki?"

The kwami set the cookie on which she had been gnawing on top of the package, then flew over to help Marinette. She pointed out the tools she would need, then explained to her how to sterilize them and numb the skin surrounding the wound.

Marinette took off her shirt to get better access to the wound, then got to work, following Tikki's instructions.

"Wait, are you-" Liam gasped and turned away from the sight. "Marinette! Are you seriously giving yourself stitches on our kitchen floor right now?"

"Well, I can't go- ow- to the hospital, because I- ng- can't let anyone figure out who I am," she said, gritting her teeth and wincing through the pain. "So, this is- unh- this is pretty much my only option."

"I cannot be in here," Liam said. "Call for me if you need anything. I'll be in the bathroom in case I throw up."

***

When Marinette was finally done bandaging her wound and had taken more painkillers than she probably should have, she went into the bedroom and carefully lay down on the bed.

"Liam, you can come out now," she called.

"You're done?" he asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

"Yeah."

"Okay, good." He carefully sat down on his side of the bed. "Um. How does it feel?"

"Not great."

"Right, um," he took a deep breath. "Marinette, I think we need to talk about this whole Ladybug thing."

She turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that this is a huge secret to keep from your fiancé," he said. "Did you not trust me enough to tell me?"

"I do trust you," she said earnestly. "But I've never told anyone my secret before. The only person who has ever known my identity is Master Fu, the man who gave me my miraculous." She pointed to her earrings, which she still wore every day in case of a situation like today's. "These give me my powers. Anyway, I was going to tell you eventually, I just... didn't know how."

"Wait," Liam stopped her. "No one other than me and this Fu guy knows your identity? Not even Chat Noir?"

"That's right. Like I said earlier, my parents and friends never put it together, and Chat and I never told each other our identities."

"But he stopped by your room for movie nights?"

"Yes."

"You developed two relationships with this guy as two different people? And you never told him you were the same person?"

Marinette looked away from him, suddenly feeling guilty. "No."

"See, Marinette," Liam said. "That's what I'm worried about."

"What do you mean, 'worried?'"

"I mean that if you kept this secret from me for years, and from your parents for seventeen freaking years, you must be an amazing liar and secret-keeper, and I don't feel good about that. And befriending Chat Noir as Marinette without telling him you were also Ladybug... I'm going to be totally honest here: that just seems manipulative to me."

"I did not manipulate him!" Marinette exclaimed defensively.

Liam raised his arms in defense. "Sorry. It just seems a little manipulative. And... I know you help people, but I don't think I can handle you risking your life like this."

Marinette stared at him. "Are you saying you don't want me to be Ladybug anymore? Because that's not going to happen."

"Why not? You've gone this long without being Ladybug, so why can't you just give her up?"

"Because Ladybug is a part of me," Marinette insisted. "I honestly forgot how much I missed transforming, but now that I've done it, I don't ever want to go back to being just Marinette. And anyway, giving up Ladybug means giving up Tikki, and we've been together since I was thirteen, so there is no way I'm just going to let that happen."

"You don't necessarily have to give her up," he said. "Just stop transforming and going out there as Ladybug and risking your life."

"You don't get it," Marinette said in frustration. She sat up, but she immediately regretted that decision due the pain in her side and lay back down. "I can't just stop doing it again. The kind of freedom and joy that comes with being Ladybug is indescribable. I can't get that from anything else. Besides, I told Chat I would meet him tomorrow night."

"You're meeting up with your ex-lover?" Liam said angrily.

"We were never lovers," Marinette snapped. "But we were best friends, and we haven't seen each other in a freaking decade, so you cannot stop me from going to see him."

"First Adrien Agreste, now Chat Noir?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"All these guys you were freaking in love with as a teenager are coming back into your life all of a sudden, and given how you act around Agreste, I'm afraid of what'll happen when you're with someone you were basically in a relationship with. I mean, Adrien is one thing, but you actually had a chance with Chat Noir, so who knows what you'll do when you're around him?"

"So now you don't trust me?"

"Frankly, Marinette, I don't. Not after you could lie to me and everyone else and keep this secret for so long," Liam said. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm still me," Marinette insisted. "I'm still Marinette. I'm still the same person you know and love."

"No, you're not," he argued. "You didn't risk your life like this before, and now you're saying you're not going to stop! That's not the Marinette I know."

"You keep talking about me risking my life," Marinette said. "But if I were a police officer, or a solider, or a firefighter, would you be acting this way?"

"That's different."

"You're right- I'm actually way less likely to get hurt as Ladybug."

Liam merely shook his head. "I... I can't do this, Mari."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm going to go find somewhere else to stay for a while."

Marinette froze, her eyes locked on Liam's. Her heart pounded, and she felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't even find any words to say for a very, very long moment.

"Don't," she finally said softly. "This- um- this was your apartment before I lived here. I... I'll go."

Liam didn't object. He just watched her, his eyes revealing no emotions. "Okay."

Marinette took a deep breath and slowly stood from the bed. "I need to get back to work, I guess. I kind of... left early."

Liam didn't respond.

"I'll just... get what I need for tonight and come get the rest while you're at work tomorrow."

"Okay."

Tears stinging her eyes, Marinette quickly packed an overnight bag and began to leave.

She turned back to look at him as she stood in the doorway out of the apartment. He was watching her with his arms crossed.

"Bye," she said softly.

He stared at her. "Goodbye, Marinette."

[luisjaiden-blog]

Feed Your Family Members As Well As Maintain Your Pocketbook Complete

In these challenging financial times, we're always trying to find means to save money. Yet, with climbing prices for whatever, and also households that still should eat, just how can we possibly conserve money at the supermarket, and also still put food on the table? Here are some pointers - great for both family members as well as university student alike.

Strategy your meals out beforehand. I'm starting with this one, because it's a pretty simple concept, yet it has a large influence on your budget. When you think of exactly what you are mosting likely to be eating, you could start by searching in your cupboard to see exactly what you might currently have. This conserves you from acquiring unnecessary groceries. Why buy that added can of tuna when you already have a couple cans in the rear of the cupboard? Likewise, when you think of your dishes in advance, and also you look for those dishes, it stops a lot of extra unneeded things you think you may need to have, but end up going unused, due to the fact that there's no certain plan for it. Preparation out your dishes as well as the active ingredients you require will certainly also protect against those unneeded journeys to the shop to pick up neglected items. The number of times have you gone to the shop for "simply something" as well as you left with a whole bag? Quit those impulse acquires by not also mosting likely to the shop. And also, when you have an entire cart loaded with groceries, impulse buys are a lot more difficult to ingest due to the fact that you're currently thinking about the significant costs at the end. When you have a little basket, even a little sweet bar is very easy to get. However remember that all those bucks accumulate Learn More Here.

Cut out promo codes. This might seem to be a discomfort, as well as in some cases it is. But, if you eliminated coupons intelligently, then it will not be so negative. Store discount coupons are a fantastic area to start. Free items as well as buy one obtain one free are typical. Signing up for shopping cards is crucial as well. Also, lots of shops will certainly double coupons or take rival's vouchers. So even a twenty five cent discount coupon could accumulate. Keep in mind though, that even if you have a coupon, you don't need to acquire the product. Only removed promo codes for points that you need. Additionally, make sure that your coupon savings is greater than the financial savings from purchasing a different brand name. If a promo code gets your product down to $2.50, however the store brand of the same product is $2.45 cents, using the discount coupon isn't really the far better bargain.

Go for shop brands. Most often, store brand names coincide top quality as name brands. So attempt them and see if you like them. My family members suches as name brand name macaroni and cheese. So, if I have a coupon, I'll get a box. However, if I'm making macaroni as well as cheese for a crowd, then I'll utilize the shop brand name. Inspect, however, making sure that the shop brand name is in fact cheaper. Last week I purchased store brand apple juice due to the fact that I had a voucher for a free gallon. But this week, there was one more brand that was thirty cents less costly. Thirty cents could not seem like a whole lot, but bear in mind that it all adds up.

Get big. I'm not saying to constantly shop at club storage facilities like Costco. Because honestly, without a huge pantry and also an additional freezer, where are you going to place whatever? However, club packs at supermarket can be found in smaller sizes, however the financial savings are typically as good. I get club sized or family members sized plans of meat. And also, as quickly as I obtain home, I repackage the meat into offering dimensions. Today, I got a club pack of chicken breasts for $9.00. I place each individual bust in a fridge freezer bag - as well as had 10 sections, so much less compared to a dollar a portion. So, when I have to prepare chicken for dinner, I can thaw the precise number of sections I need - instead of defrosting more and allowing some go to squander.

Discover how you can review the labels. Not the labels on the food, however the tags on the racks. When comparing rates, look not just at just what the thing prices, but take a look at the system cost. Usually, the better buy is the item that has the lower system cost. But, realize - often obtaining a reduced device cost means obtaining a larger package. Just get a bundle dimension that you assume you can actually use before it spoils. Otherwise, you'll just be throwing money away.

Think about just how you'll be making use of the food. This could impact the type you're getting the food in. For example, if you're cooking in a crock pot, you don't always need fresh veggies. Frozen could work equally as well - as well as the crock pot requires fluid anyways. Maintain a box of powdered milk available. Yes, I'm serious. You could not wish to reconstitute it to drink, but utilizing it in baking and cooking might in fact assist stretch that gallon in the refrigerator.

When conserving money, do the work on your own. It could be more convenient to acquire pre-bagged salads. But, slicing your personal veggies is far more economical. Additionally, they currently sell rice that you could simply heat in the microwave and offer. I purchase these for days when I have no time at all to prepare. Yet, when you're saving money, acquire the sack of rice and prepare it on your own.

Shop in the ethnic aisles (or at ethnic stores). Instead of buying the name brand of rice, look in the Hispanic foods aisle. I have actually found that canned beans, rice, salsa, as well as tortillas are all much more economical in the Hispanic foods aisle, than in various other locations of the shop. I typically buy juices in the exact same aisle. They may not be the brands I'm utilized to, yet I discover they're equally as great. Especially when you're searching for something like peach nectar.

Prevent the prepackaged dishes. Do you buy packaged meals due to the fact that you want to serve your household a healthy, balanced dish when you're short on time? After that boxed as well as iced up dishes typically aren't the response. Generally, you'll need to acquire a pair plans to in fact feed your household. And also the fillers, salt, and fat included in these meals could hardly be taken into consideration healthy and balanced. Rather, purchase a crock pot. Place only the components because you desire, and come house to a healthy, hot dish.

Look the clearance bins. You could find some lots in these bins. Harmed boxes and containers don't affect exactly what's inside. Yet, if it's not presentable adequate to sell, you could gain the rewards. Also, off period items as well as candy are still good, also if they are heart or pumpkin shaped! Sometimes, you'll discover discontinued products of points that you need anyways. So, do not pass these deals up.

When a shop buys or bakes excessive, they pass the financial savings on to you. If your household undergoes a great deal of bread or cakes promptly, search the pastry shop cast offs. You can often find bakeshop items that need to be marketed and utilized quickly. If you experience them rapidly, you may also shop here! And also, if you're locating that you cannot use the bread or cakes as soon as possible, you can constantly freeze them or utilize them in various other methods - like in stuffings or French toast. Some excellent recipes for French toast could be located online!

Your household needs to eat. But, feeding them doesn't should set you back a fortune. With just a few expense saving measures, you can feed your household's bellies, while keeping your budget complete also.