#now someone's trying to tell me my post about not having enough fried tomatoes in american food is bad because i generalized american food..

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - 12

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Co-written with @tacmc​.

A/N: No tag list tonight. This is the 3rd time I've tried to post this chapter and every single time, it's crashed before I can post or save. AKA I’m about to punch my computer and don’t want to push my luck anymore. Next chapter, I will be copying and pasting my old tag list, deleting the inactive blogs, and adding those who have asked. Enjoy!

It never failed to amaze Aelin how slow business got when the university took their breaks. It was only the second day of the University of Terrasen’s fall break and she’d already had enough spare time to reorganize the stock room, deep clean the kitchen and now, she was sitting at a table in the corner, staring at a print out of her menu.

She chewed on the end of her pen and then drew a line through another item. In the four years she’d had the café, she’d never changed a single menu item. It wasn’t that anyone was complaining about her food, but she was bored with it and wanted to add some new variety. She scribbled some notes in the margin of new recipes she wanted to try to replace the old ones, but the sound of the bell above the door distracted her. She was beaming before she even got out of her chair.

“Hey,” she said, approaching Rowan and Lorcan, pressing a kiss to the cheek of the former and keeping her distance from the former. “How was practice?”

“Good. Save for the fact that I’m still sitting on the bench,” Rowan said, sighing. “Coach said I can be on the ice from now on, as long as I’m still not running drills and agree to see the trainer every day.”

“That’s great,” she said, smiling. “You hungry?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, a lopsided grin on his face.

She headed for the cash register Elide had been sitting at a few moments before. She was now working on rolling silverware father down the counter, quietly humming along to the music that played in the café. “You want the grilled cheese and tomato soup again?”

“Please,” he said, smiling. He turned to his friend and asked, “You want the Reuben, Lor?”

Lorcan didn’t reply. He was staring back towards the door.

Back towards Elide.

“Lorcan?” Rowan said, again, finally getting his teammates’ attention.

“Reuben, yeah, sounds great,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet.

“Lunch is on me,” Aelin said, eyeing him, not liking the way he turned back to glance at Elide.

She didn’t like the way Elide was sneaking glances at him either.

As she walked behind the counter, Aelin cleared her throat, making Elide jump, her fingers dropping the silverware in which she held. It clattered against the counter.

“Care to give me a hand?” Aelin asked.

Elide blinked. “It’s just two sandwiches-.”

“If the bell rings, you can come back out,” Aelin said, taking Elide by the wrist and dragging her back toward the kitchen. She called back to Rowan and Lorcan, “Make yourselves comfortable!”

Once in the kitchen, Aelin dropped Elide’s wrist and began with the sandwiches. 

Elide watched her friend, her boss, skeptically. “Care to tell me what that was about?” 

“You were practically drooling over him,” Aelin said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Elide.

Elide’s cheeks darkened and she hurried around to the other side of the kitchen to get Rowan’s soup. “I was not.”

“You definitely were,” Aelin replied, turning and dropping the grilled cheese on top of the griddle. She may have put more cheese on than she would have for a regular customer and melty, delicious goodness dripped out the surface of the cooktop.

Elide was standing in the alley of the kitchen, looking back through the serving window at Aelin. “And…? So what if I was? He’s hot.”

Aelin fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s a hockey player, El. Rowan has told me about how he spends his away games.”

Elide was quiet as she put the soup in the window to stay warm as Aelin finished their sandwiches. If her friend and boss’s back hadn’t been facing her, she probably wouldn’t have had the courage to say, “Wow, Ace, be careful. Your hypocrisy is showing.”

She whirled, pointing a spatula at Elide. “That’s a completely different situation and you know it.”

Elide lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Aelin’s lips thinned. “Yes, you do. At least, you should. Rowan and I… it’s different.” 

“If you would have known he was a hockey player, you would’ve never started seeing Rowan,” Elide went on, trying to hide both her frustration and amusement. “The fact that Lorcan plays hockey is all you can see when you look at him.”

Aelin scoffed. “Wrong. All I can see is his jackassery.”

“Jackassery?” 

“It’s a word,” Aelin snapped, flipping over the sandwich on the griddle. “And, again, Rowan has told me about his post game activities when they’re on the road.”

“It doesn’t make a difference, I don’t know why you’re even upset about it,” Elide muttered, coming around to the salad station and popping a cucumber slice in her mouth. “He’s Lorcan Salvaterre. He’s the captain of the team. He dates bikini models and actresses. I’m just a broke college student. I’m just…me.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she turned to one of her oldest friends. “That’s not true, Elide. You are a phenomenal, beautiful, smart woman, and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind. Including yourself.”

Elide’s cheeks darkened, slightly, as she tried to fight the smile growing. “I’m going to go finish my silverware. Holler if you need me.”

Aelin nodded and watched as she pushed through the swinging door to the dining room. She finished up the sandwiches before grabbing Rowan’s soup and carrying them out front.

While she and Elide had been in the kitchen, Fenrys had appeared, a fast food bag open in front of him. She chuckled as she sat down Rowan and Lorcan’s food. “You know I would have cooked for you.”

His mouth was full of a massive bite of hamburger, so Lorcan answered for him. “He also knows coach would kick his ass if he knew he was eating that. Yet he does it anyway.”

“It’s so good,” Fenrys said, his mouth still full, his manners shot. “What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Rowan snorted. “Tell yourself that when you feel like shit once the grease sets in.”

Lorcan stared at his sandwich for a long moment. Then, he mumbled, “Thank you.”

Aelin blinked. Even Rowan looked nearly surprised.

“Did you just thank me?” Aelin asked, perfectly still.

Lorcan didn’t say anything else as he bit into his sandwich. 

A few more people trickled in and Aelin got back to work, the shock of Lorcan’s almost-kindness still shocking her. The dinner rush, even though slower with the college campus dwindled, still kept her and Elide busy, and by the time eight rolled around, Aelin was ready to close up.

Rowan, Lorcan, and Fenrys remained at the corner table. 

Elide came out of the kitchen, having grabbed her purse and coat from Aelin’s office. “I’m gonna head home, if there’s nothing else you need me to do.”

Aelin shook her head. “Nope, you’re all set. Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Elide said, smiling, and Aelin noticed that her eyes slid to the table again, before she turned and was out the door, heading around the building to the small lot behind the café.

As she approached the table, Lorcan was standing and shrugging his jacket on. “Thanks for dinner. It was good.”

Aelin was still stunned by his niceties earlier that his words barely registered. “You’re welcome, I’m glad you liked it. I guess I’ll keep it on the menu.”

“You heading out, man?” Fenrys asked, finishing off the large plate of fries he’d ordered after his burger and first order of fries was gone.

“Yeah. Got some stuff I gotta take care of.” He said nothing else, but headed for the door.

Turning towards Rowan, Aelin tried to keep her expression in check as she realized that he, too, was heading for the back lot. Rowan, not fooled by her attempts, held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not getting involved.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, and Aelin rolled her eyes as she took his plate and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ve gotta lock up,” she called out over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweet cheeks!” Fenrys called out.

Even through the swinging door, Aelin heard Rowan smack him on the back of the head.

****************

Rowan skated around the ice. 

He was bored shitless, not even in his hockey gear, but sweatpants and a hoodie. His hands were shoved into his pant pockets as he circled the rink, close to the sideboards. The constant blow of the whistle was the only thing keeping him awake.

He didn’t even bother asking if he could practice, even though he felt up to it. He already knew what the answer would be. 

And yet, he longed for practice to last. When it was over, he’d have to make his way into the locker room for Maeve.

And he was not prepared.

He’d felt her eyes on him since the moment he hit the ice, yet he hadn’t looked over at her once. Dorian was thankfully on the other end of the rink, so as he skated by at the beginning of practice, he was able to flag him down.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” Dorian asked, leaning on the half wall separating them.

“Much better, like it never happened,” he said, and the lie was barely there.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow and snorted. “Good try. You can’t practice today.”

“No, I get it, I understand that.” Roan cleared his throat. “But, uh, is there a different massage therapist I can see?”

Dorian blinked. “Did something happen with Maeve the other day? She didn’t mention anything-.”

“She’s my ex,” Rowan interrupted.

Dorian hesitated before nodding, slowly. “I see.”

“You can massage me,” Rowan said, quickly.

“As flattered as I am, I’m not a massage therapist,” Dorian chuckled. “I can talk to-.”

“No, don’t…tell anyone. If you don’t know of anyone, it’s fine,” Rowan said, the words rushing out of him. 

“Look, I don’t know Maeve very well,” Dorian began, shaking his head. “But, she seems perfectly fine, alright? Has it been a while since you’ve been together?”

Rowan gave him a curt nod.

“Then give her a chance to be civil,” Dorian said, shrugging. “If she’s disrespectful, let me know. Otherwise, I have no reason to think she won’t do her job appropriately, and if she doesn’t, then you can leave.”

He sighed, nodding, and skated off.

He spent the next two hours dreading every minute that passed.

He heard Brello’s whistle blow and slowly glided across the ice, coming to a stop next to his line.

“Everyone was looking good today,” he said, looking at them one by one. “Take it easy tonight. The boys from Eyllwe aren’t going to go easy on us tomorrow night, especially since we’ll be in their territory. I want all of you in your best form.” He gestured to Rowan. “Whitethorn will be back on the ice next week.”

There were cheers and hollers from the team and Rowan couldn’t help but smirk as Lorcan shoved him.

Brello, to everyone’s surprise, smirked as well. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your time off, but relaxation time is over. You ready to go?”

“Aye, coach,” he replied, nodding.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

After a couple more announcements from the coaching staff, everyone was skating towards the locker rooms of the practice facility and Rowan felt like his nerves were going to snap.

He took his time removing his skates and grabbing his bag, before slowly walking down the hall leading to the training rooms. He was silently praying Dorian would be in his office, right off to the side of the therapy room, but he wasn’t.

There was only one room with a light on, and with a deep breath, he approached and knocked on the half-open door. 

Maeve looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Come in, I’m ready for you.”

Rowan hesitated, but went in. Dorian was right. Maybe she had changed, maybe there was nothing to worry about.

Yet Rowan felt nauseous as he approached the blanket covered table.

“I’ll give you a minute to strip down and be back.” She left without another word, shutting the door behind her.

Rowan stared at the door before kicking off his shoes then lifting his shirt over his head. He only hesitated for a moment before kicking off his sweats and laying down on the table, pulling the blanket up to his waist.

A soft knock informed him of her approach, and he grunted to let her know he was ready.

When the door reopened, the lights suddenly dimmed and Rowan awkwardly shifted on the massage table.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Rowan was grinding his teeth as she worked on the muscle in his lower back that kept spasming when she said, “I have to say, I was surprised to see you the other day. Dorian hadn’t told me who I would be working on, but…” She paused and chuckled quietly, running her hands up his back.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

When Rowan was drafted into the EHL, it had been a pretty big deal in his city, but more specifically, his university. He’d dropped out of school to accept the offer from the lower level team and climb his way to where he was. And everyone in Wendlyn knew.

There was no way Maeve didn’t know he was playing for Terrasen when she took the job.

He gave her a small nod and a quiet noise that said he was listening. She kept going, taking that as a sign he was interested in the conversation.

“I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she sighed. “Things ended so...abruptly. I’m glad to see your doing good.” Another chuckle. “Save for the injury, of course.”

It was so strange to hear another accent from Wendlyn that was still somewhat fresh. Lorcan, Gav and Fenrys, they’d been in Terrasen so long, the accent almost disappeared sometimes. But the lilt of her tone, the way she phrased certain words… It both soothed and unsettled Rowan.

“Don't you care to know how I’ve been?” She asked, her voice low. When Rowan didn’t reply, she continued on, anyway. “I’ve been pretty good. Got myself a little place in the city. A dog. Little chihuahua named Fiona.”

Rowan blinked. He was tempted to say that he hadn’t asked, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve got some pretty wealthy clients, too,” she continued, continuing to work out that knot. “For the first time in ages, I’m secure, you know? Not just financially, just…secure.”

“Good to hear,” he replied, the words sounding more like a snarl through the pain, and she dug her knuckles into his back. The sound he made was halfway between a moan and a groan, he bit his lip to cut it off, but he noted the change in the way Maeve’s hands touched him.

Her touches became less like determined movements meant to heal and were more akin to petting, brushes along his side and a slow finger down his spine.

“And you?” She asked, pulling the blanket a bit lower on his back. He’d worn underwear for just that reason, not trusting her to not make an inappropriate move. “Are you living in Orynth?”

He cleared his throat and said, “Yep. Got an apartment down the road from the university.”

His answer was short and sweet. He wasn’t trying to invite more conversation.

“Not far from me then,” she replied, humming quietly.

Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but that just made her want to ease it away. His eyes closed and he remained quiet. 

“What about your personal life?” Maeve asked, at last.

Rowan didn’t answer, he just took a deep breath.

“Not trying to pry,” Maeve said, at last. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m in pain,” he said, gently, the lie coming out easy. “Not really in a mood to make conversation.”

He could have sworn he felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

Her answer was curt. “Sorry.”

She stayed quiet for the rest of the massage, and when she finished, she told him to get redressed and left, heading back out into the main training facility.

He emerged a few moments later, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his silver hair. He was already heading for the door, giving her a nod of thanks, when she spoke up.

“Rowan, wait.”

He hated hearing his name on her lips. His steps slowed and he turned around to look at her.

She hesitated slightly, but said, “I was going to go get dinner in a little bit. It’s been a while, I didn’t know if maybe you-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mae,” he sighed. The familiar nickname slipped out before he had time to stop it. It caught him off guard. “I- I gotta get home. I’ll see you later.”

Rowan had grabbed his bag and was out the door before she had time to say another word

****************

Aelin was at the stove, stirring a pot of homemade marinara sauce and humming quietly along with the radio when Rowan unlocked the door to her apartment and came in. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him before turning back to the cooktop. “Hey, you. How was practice?”

“My new massage therapist is my ex.”

The words came out in a rush and Rowan wasn’t even sure he consciously knew he had planned on saying them.

Aelin’s back stiffened and she set the wooden spoon on the trivet beside the stove. Silently, she turned and asked, “Your ex-girlfriend is giving you massages?”

Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Before you say anything-.”

“Did this just start today?” she asked. Her tone held no judgement, only curiosity. However, there was a slight edge to her tone.

“She gave me the massage in my apartment-.”

Aelin held up a hand, and Rowan’s words instantly fell into silence.

Silence, where the room remained for far too long. “Aelin-.”

“Who is she?” Aelin asked, one brow raised. “I’ll kick her ass.”

“Her name is Maeve,” he said, making his way into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter. “She was my girlfriend in college. We dated for a couple of years, but… It didn’t end well. It became more about who I was in hockey, how I was playing, than it was about our relationship.”

“Maeve,” Aelin repeated, turning back to the stove. “Maeve, Maeve, Maeve… Hmm.”

Rowan was quiet, not exactly sure what to say.

“And you have to see her? You don’t have a choice?” She finally asked.

He shook his head. “Brello told me to get over my personal issues. I’m sure I can book a personal masseuse, but-.”

“No, your coach is right,” she sighed, stirring the pot, before putting the lid on and walking over to where Rowan stood. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I don’t like it, but… that isn’t really my call to make.”

Rowan let out a relieved breath. “I know, it’s not mine either. Maybe you can give me massages here to help?” He smirked and, finally, Aelin’s beautiful smile returned.

“We’ll see,” she chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Looks like I’ll just have to come to your games and make my presence known.”

“Make your presence known?” He crooned.

“I like to mark my territory,” Aelin breathed, her eyes bright. 

“And I’m your territory?” Rowan grinned.

“Whether you like it or not,” Aelin said, laughing softly. “Yes, you are.”

“Hmmm,” Rowan said, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t say that I don’t like that.”

He leaned down and kissed her one more time before asking, “So you aren’t mad?”

She stepped away, back to the stove, and said, “No, I’m not mad.” She paused and pulled a few spices from the cupboard. “Do I like it? Of course not, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Once I finish up this round of therapy, I won’t need it again,” he promised. “No more fights, no more getting slammed into the boards. I won’t have to see her anymore.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back to him. “You can’t make that promise, who’s to say what could happen?”

Rowan cringed. “That’s true. No more fighting though, I mean that.”

Aelin nodded, and he could tell she believed him.

He took a step closer and brushed her hair back. “You look beautiful.”

Aelin’s lips quirked as she said, “Trying to kiss my ass to get back on my good side?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and kissed her forehead, softly. “Is it working?”

“Hmmm,” Aelin began, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Not yet, keep trying.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. “Now?”

Aelin sighed. “Getting there.”

“Only getting there, huh?” He breathed, his lips still brushing hers.

“I guess you’re going to have to step your game up,” Aelin cooed, slipping her hands down his back and into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Rowan’s grin was positively feline as he picked her up and carried her back into her bedroom.

Dinner was forgotten about for quite a while.

#lui #light up the ice #rowaelin hockey fic #snacmc #snelbz lui #snelbz tacmc collab #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

[mr-chrisevans]

for the drabble requests could you do number 8 with chris please!

Here we go! I actually had a great time writing this so I hope you enjoy it! More to come tomorrow in all likelihood but check out the original post here for more prompts.

Title: Happy Holidays, I Guess

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Prompt: “Look, I only came here for the Christmas cookies.”

You sat in your car outside the house for a few minutes, trying to find the will to go inside. The last thing you wanted to do was go to a holiday party filled with people from your hometown, but Chris insisted you come with him. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly pulled it out to see a text from Chris.

Chris

I can see your car outside.

Get in here or I will pull you out of the car myself don’t try me.

Y/N

God you are the worst.

You sighed heavily and finally got out of the car, carefully making your way up the driveway in the snow to make it to the front door. Before you could even knock Chris was standing in the doorway beaming.

“Y/N, you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, but I’m really glad to see you.” He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you.

“Look, I only came here for the Christmas cookies.” You shrugged off your coat and let him hang it up for you in the coat closet. “The fact that I let you convince me to do this is a testament to your skills of persuasion.”

“I know our hometown friends aren’t exactly your favorite people, but we can spend tonight making fun of all the people who were really shitty in high school and are now horrifically boring.”

“With that I guess I’m not only here for the cookies.” You joked.

Chris laughed and wrapped an arm around you and lead you into the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to drink because I think you’re going to need it.”

The second you got to the kitchen you were bombarded by hellos and questions about how you’ve been doing since you moved and a million other questions that you had absolutely zero desire to answer but had to be nice. Chris discreetly handed you a beer as you started talking to Kelly, the girl who hated you for two years because you beat her out for the lead part in the fall play sophomore year. “Yeah, I really love New York it’s a fantastic city.” You smiled at her. “How about you, what have you been doing?” You asked politely with no actually interest in what her answer was going to be.

“Well, George and I got married earlier this year so that’s been the most exciting thing ever.” She beamed at you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Chris mouth ‘Not surprised’, and you tried not to laugh as she kept talking. “Not nearly as exciting as being a writer in New York though.” She said with the tiniest edge of sarcasm in her voice.

“Well, you know, everyone’s got something don’t they. It’s been great talking to you Kelly but I think we’ve got to make some rounds and say hi.” You quickly excused yourself and grabbed Chris’ arm and pulled him with you into a corner of the living room. The fake smile you had plastered on your face quickly melted off. “I’ve been here all of fifteen minutes and it is already insufferable.” You took a long sip of your beer and looked at all the people sitting in the living room. “I don’t even see any cookies here.”

“Wait here, I will be right back.” He walked back into the kitchen and left you leaning on the back windows by yourself, observing the people you went high school with as they steadily got drunker and devolved into their high-school selves. “Voila!” Chris exclaimed as he walked back over to you, an entire tray of decorated cookies in hand. “I promised cookies and now I have delivered.”

“Oh thank god.” You took a cookie off the tray and bit into it immediately. “That’s a damn good cookie.” You said as you chewed.

“Well thank you, I made these myself.” He said with a smile on his face.

“You are such a liar I saw these exact cookies at the grocery store the other day.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t make them, but I did buy them so that counts for something.”

You chuckled at him and continued eating your cookie. “How come we never got invited to parties like this in high school? I mean, we weren’t that weird, were we?” You asked.

“We definitely weren’t weirder than any of the other theater kids, but I’m pretty sure Kelly had you on the party blacklist after the Midsummer Night’s Dream debacle. And since I was your best friend they stuck me on there too.”

“I fucking knew it.” You laughed. “She never could have pulled off Hermia though, let’s be honest.”

“Being Hermia was probably your finest hour of high school theater. Perfect performance, if you ask me.”

“I can’t believe her and George are still together. How on Earth did that happen?”

“I know, it makes literally no sense.” Chris said. “I swear I heard he cheated on her when they were in college with some girl he met when he went abroad for a semester.”

You laughed. “I would not put it past him, I mean look at him now.” George sat perched on the arm of the sofa talking very animatedly with a girl who was definitely not Kelly. “What a prick.”

Chris looked at his watch for a second, sighed, and turned to you. “I think we’ve been here long enough, shall we go for an Irish exit?”

“I would love nothing more.” You agreed excitedly and quickly finished your beer before following him out to the front hall. You both pulled on your coats as you walked out the door. “Shit.” You said, stopping on the driveway. “I should have grabbed another cookie.”

Chris stopped for a second and looked down the street, thinking. “Toss me your keys, I have an idea.”

“You want to drive my car?” You asked skeptically.

“Oh come on. I’m a much better driver than I was in high school.” You hesitated still before finally tossing him the keys. “Thank god, it’s fucking cold out here.” He ran over to the car and threw himself into the driver’s seat.”

“So where exactly are we headed?” You asked as he started the car and pulled back on to the street.

“It’s a surprise. Trust me you’ll love it.” The two of you drove for a few minutes in a comfortable silence while cheesy Christmas songs played on the radio. Before too long, Chris pulled into the parking lot of the old diner in town and turned off the car. “Well, surprise!”

“Shit, I haven’t been to Jack’s in ages. I don’t even remember the last time I was here.”

He got out of the car and gestured for you to do the same. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

You walked inside the building, the warm air and smell of coffee greeting you. “Go ahead and take a seat anywhere, we’ll be over to help you in a second.” The woman behind the counter told the two of you. You both smiled and made your way to a booth. There were only a few other people there so it was pretty quiet and you managed to snag the booth you used to always sit at. 

“I don’t even have to look at a menu, I know exactly what I am getting.” You said as you slid into the booth opposite Chris.

He grinned. “I knew you would love this. You can never beat a late night trip to Jack’s”

“God, we used to do this all the time. No wonder my acne was so bad, Jesus.” You joked and the two of you laughed.

“We were definitely here way too often. That’s probably why everyone thought we were weird. They were out getting drunk in someone’s unfinished basement and we were here trying to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest.”

“And I beat you every time.” You said proudly.

“I was just very sensitive to cold, it’s not my fault.” He responded, trying to defend himself.

“Excuses, excuses.” He tried to continue his defense but the woman behind the counter had made her way over to take your order. 

She set down two glasses of water on the table before pulling out a little notepad from her apron. “What can I get started for you two tonight?” Her thick Boston accent made you feel even more at home in the diner.

“I will have the classic grilled cheese and tomato soup please.” 

She turned to Chris. “And for you?”

His eyes lingered on the menu for a moment before he looked back at the waitress. “I will have the cheeseburger and fries and we will split a chocolate milkshake.” He looked at you and smiled as she wrote down the order.

“I’ll be right back with all that. Anything else I can get for you besides water?”

“No I think we’re all set,” you replied. “Thank you.” 

“I think we’ve talked enough about the past tonight, it’s time to move on to the present.” Chris said, holding his glass of water between is hands as he leaned into the table. “How’s New York been lately?”

You sighed and played with your straw. “I mean, don’t get me wrong I absolutely love the city, but sometimes it can be a lot.”

He nodded along with you. “I totally get it. Work has been okay though, right?” He continued. You chewed on your lip a little and stared into your glass of water. “I take that as a no.” He added and leaned back into the booth.

You stared up at him. “No, it’s definitely not given that I no longer have a job.”

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You tried to shrug it off. “It’ll be okay. I’ll figure something out soon.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come to the party, wasn’t it?”

“And he puts the pieces of the puzzle together.” You lifted your glass to him in mock cheers. “I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to tell people here that I was now officially unemployed.”

“Right before Christmas too. Fucking rough.”

“We always knew my boss was a dick and now we have the ultimate proof.” You joked.

“If he didn’t live in an apartment in New York I would say we should egg his house.”

“Damn, that would’ve been amazing.” You both laughed.

“Well, let’s toast,” he said, gesturing for you to lift your glass with him, “to things being even marginally less shitty next year.” You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of your water. 

“That is definitely something I can drink to.” 

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #drabbles #chris evans drabbles

[the-daily-multi-fandom-post]

hello !! May I please have Shane Walsh x reader where reader passes out from stress please ?

Sorry it took so long to post. I hope you like it! 🖤 Let’s imagine Shane didn’t die and he was with them inside the prison! And that he’s not a bad guy and Judith is ricks child even though we all know she’s probably not his.- 😅😂

-this is long and half of it could just not be there and nobody would never miss it but I didn’t take it out. It’s probably obvious of what I’m talking about but it’s 2:28 in the morning so... enjoy! 🖤 sorry for any mistakes.

You were driving yourself crazy. Your group finally found shelter, somewhere you can call home. You prayed for this and finally your prayers were answered.

When you guys first found the prison you guys were so thankful. The prison was once just a building holding a bunch of prisoners to now being y’all’s home.

You were there when Lori died. You were a nurse before the end. You loved your job and when the end of the world came you were very Thankful for all the training you had.

You always helped Hershel when someone needed help or just help in anyway you could. You would go on runs, take a shift on watch, you would help clear out some of the walkers that lined the fence. School some of the kids since rick thought it was good if they still had an education -you just was always trying to help in anyway you could. But today was not your day. This is how your day went:

You were finally sleeping soundly. No longer listening to the moaning, groaning walkers. But rather listening to the quietness of the prison. You just enjoying the peaceful night. Shane, your boyfriend of three years, spooning you with his arms wrapped around your waist on the small bed. The two of you practically tangled together on the small bed.

The sun slowly started to rise, making the prison have some sort of light in there. It was about six in the morning as you started to wake up. Shane was still snoring as you woke. You moved slightly trying to get out of his tight grip. “Shane,” you whispered as he pulled you closer to him. He groaned putting his face into your neck. “Shane, I need to get up.” He opened his eyes. His brown orbs staring into your Y/e/c ones.

“Good morning, baby.” He kissed you and smiled. You smiled at him and kissed him back. “It’s time to get up.” You spoke, you were kinda upset with yourself, but you knew the two of you had things to do today. But sitting there in the bed was wasting daylight. “Five more minutes.” He mumbled as he kissed your neck. You hummed as you thought about it for a second. He kissed your neck and down to your collar bone.

“Shane.” You moaned softly as he kissed and sucked on your special spot. “We can’t, Carl’s right beside us.” You whispered softly. Making sure only Shane would hear you. “Then you should stay quiet.” He continued kissing you and smiled looking into your y/e/c eyes. He rolled so he was on top of you. He slipped your (his) t-shirt off you and you gave up fighting him from there.

“Good morning, Y/n.” Carol smiled as you walked into the kitchen. Carol was fixing some oatmeal for breakfast. She was smiling brightly as she looked at you. She seemed to have more of a smile now that her abusive husband was gone.

“Good mornin’, Carol. How are you?” Your voice was happy, as was your attitude even in the early morning.

“Just fine. How are you?” She asked you as she fixed you a bowl and handed it to you. “I’m good, thank you. You took the bowl telling her thank you and sat down at the table right near her. Giving her someone to talk to since barely anyone was awake.

Rick came in talking to Daryl and Shane right behind them. Shane’s face lit up as soon as he seen you. He waved as he, listened to Rick and Daryl talking. You waved and smiled as Carol started talking about supper for tonight.

“So I was planning on fixing some salad from the garden, do some fried green tomatoes and then a deer roast from the deer Daryl got yesterday.

“That sounds good.” You spoke, nodding your head as you continued to eat your food and talk to her. “I was wondering if you could pick some of the green tomatoes from the garden though. I was gonna go out there but I have to do lunch and the girl that usually helps me isn’t feeling well.” Carol added giving you a soft, friendly smile. “Sure.” You nodded wiping your hands against your blue jeans. “I’ll do it as soon as I finish up breakfast.” You told her with a smile. “Thank you so much, Y/n. Your the best!” Carol thanked her friend then went back to give some of the people who were lined up breakfast.

Just as you were finishing up breakfast Shane came sitting beside you. His own breakfast in his hand. “So, I was just informed I was on morning shift tomorrow. They also asked if you wanted to be on morning shift with me?” Shane asked Y/n with a smirk on his face. “Don’t be so cocky.” You teased him and slightly slapped his shoulder. “That’s fine, I guess. I gotta go. I got some things to get done today.” You told him. Giving him a soft kiss then getting up from your spot. “I Love you.” Shane said grabbing your hand before you could leave too soon. “I love you.” You answered him with a smile.

You were grabbing a bucket for the tomatoes when Maggie had walked up to you. “Hey, Y/n. I was wondering if you could take my shift on fence duty. I want to have some time with Glenn before he goes on a run this afternoon. You nodded giving Maggie a smile. “Sure, it’s no problem.” She smiled and gave you a hug. Thanking you as she ran off to tell Glenn she had time to be with him before his run.

It took about half an hour to pick enough tomatoes for supper. You also picked some of the fruit from the fruit trees and placed them in the bucket. When you were done, You gave the bucket to Carl to give to Carol.

It was barely 8:00 when you started clearing the walkers at the fence. It was you, tyrese and Sasha clearing some walkers. “I can’t believe they put us on fence duty.” Sasha complained, completely forgetting you were right there beside her.

You rolled your eyes as you stabbed the walker through the eye. “They probably want to see what your strong place is. Weather you better on fence duty or something else.” Tyresse told his sister. Trying to keep his sisters attitude down. “I mean, it’s not like I’m not thankful. I am, I mean they are giving us shelter, water, and food. It is the least we can do.” She added looking at her brother then to You who was still killing the walkers.

You were hot and sweaty. The hot Georgia sun shinning brightly down on your back. You were probably getting sunburn. You watched as the walkers slowed down. You took just a minute break. Grabbing your water that was right beside the fence. Drinking some of the refreshing water then going back to the fence.

“Hey, Y/n. Since there aren’t many out can we go take a break?” Sasha asked. You looked up looking at the twenty walkers that were lined down the fence. Not in one spot but all up and down the fence. “Umm..” you started looking at the walkers and then back to her. “I guess, just be quick, 5 minutes top.” You told them and they were quickly gone. Tyrese thank you and gave you a big smile. Sasha was gone ready not to be on fence duty.

You were there killing most of the walkers. You worked quick so luckily most of the walkers were dead now. There now were only two or three lurking out far away from the fence.

Your shift finally finished. Sasha and tyresse came, back but you were already finished. There wasn’t any walkers right there. You were putting the crowbar down on the table they had right beside the fence. Taking your water bottle and drinking some water and then you start walking towards the door to the prison.

“Hey, Y/n!” Carl called waving you over. He was right beside the fence where he and his friend was watching you killing the walkers. “Hey, kiddo.” Carl glared at her and she had to hide her giggle. “Sorry, sup Carl.” She re-greeted him. “Hey, Patrick.” She fretted the other boy. “What’re y’all doin’?” “We just wanted to see if we could help you. We don’t have anything better to do.” Carl spoke looking at h is “aunt Y/.”

You have known the grimes for years. That’s how you and Shane got together. You went to school with them and then when you went school to be a nurse you ended up leaving for a little while. But you always visited them. But as soon as you got to be a CNR (certified nurse license) you were always around them. Not that they were always in the hospital, but you had more free time then when you were in school. Lori actually set you and Shane up on a date. From that date on you and Shane we’re together. You were very, very thankful for Lori. Sometimes she was an bitch, but you guys were still friends through everything.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what you can help with. Did you do your school work?” You asked the two of them. The two avoid your eye contact and you chuckled. “We kinda didn’t do the school work.” You shook your head at the two boys and smiled at them. “Do you guys need help with your work?” Patrick was the first to nod and you understood that’s what they were coming out here for. Not to see if they could help you, but they needed your help for their school. “I’ll see if I can help you. I’ll see y’all in the library in 10 minutes. That gives y’all some free time before I go help. Tell the other kids if they need help to go to the library in 10 minutes.” The two nodded and started running to the other kids. You were glad that Carl had kids his own age to hang out with. It made you feel better about the prison. It may be a prison but the group changed it around so it felt like a home.

On your way towards the library Beth stopped you. “Y/n, can you take Judith? I really need a break?” You nodded as you took the 7 month old baby in your arms. The child smiled as soon as she was in your arms. “Thank you so much, y/n I owe you one!” You nodded as you walked towards the library.

You got to the library earlier then the kids. Grabbing the books that they were learning out of. You already knew most of what they were learning, but teaching it was probably gonna be the hardest. Making sure each of the kids understood everything, you prayed that you were going to able to teach them.

Flipping through a math book you had found in a run in a book store you copied down a few of the problems on a chalk board as a handful of kids started walking in there.

“Hi, Y/n.” Mika greeted you as she came over to see what you were doing. “Hi, Judith.” She smiled at the baby. “How are you, Mika?” You asked the young girl. “I’m good. What’re we doing for school today?” She asked you with a smile on her face. You never have met a kid that was so interested in learning.

“I’ll explain it all in just a second. Why don’t you go sit down over there at the desk?” You asked her with a smile.

“Alright, guys and gals let’s sit down.” You had lined the tables in a line surrounding you in the middle against the window. You had a desk with some paper, pens, pencils and books you were going to teach out of.

“Take one paper and one pencil and pass it down.” You told Carl who was at one end of the table and then handed him the cup of pencils. “Alright, were gonna do the least favorite first.” You started as you placed Judith on the high chair letting her play with some of her toys.

You were watching Judith teaching the kids helping them with their school work and making sure they were having fun while doing school.

“Alright, Mika. 30 divided by 90 equals what?” You asked the little girl. “It’s three.” You nodded with a smile. “That’s right! Alright, this one is for all of you. As soon as you do this problem you can be done math for the day. If we had thirty people here in the prison, and we had to give each person three meals a day. How many meals would we need a year. And remember there’s 365 days a year. As soon as you finish that hand me your paper and then you can take a break for luch.

You had the answer (which was 32,850). The kids worked while you picked up Judith who was getting a little fussy. You walked around bouncing the little one as Shane came in. You didn’t even realize he was even in there until a few minutes later when he had tripped over a stack of books in the floor.

Everyone had finished and handed you their paper. You were happy to see they got it correct. Some of the younger ones needed help, but the older ones who had already learned to do multiplication and dividing were great. Doing most of the problems with ease.

“Shane, what’re you doing? I thought you were going on the run with Glenn, and them?” You spoke looking at your boyfriend. He nodded as he looked the baby in your hand.

“I thought about it, but then Maggie wanted to go so she took my places and I stayed.” You nodded as he leaned against the desk. “I just came here to see if you wanted to go get lunch together.” You smiled as you looked at your caring boyfriend. “Sure.” You told him. With Judith on your hip and Shane by your side you guys made your way to eat lunch.

You thought you were going to be able to sit down and enjoy lunch but you weren’t that lucky. First you had to work on of the kids who broke their finger by getting their finger accidentally shut in a door. Then you had to stitch up one of the young adults from Woodbury that had an accident with a knife they were playing with.

“I guess I should stop playing with knives.” The man spoke to himself. You chuckled as you finished up the stitch. “Yeah, your lucky you didn’t hit a vein.” You told him as he sat on the chair in the infirmary. “Well, I think your good. Don’t do too mucc you’ll rip the stitch and it’ll hurt like a bitch.” You told him as he stood up from the chair. “Thank you.” He told you and you nodded.

Leaving the infirmary you went back to the kitchen to get some lunch. Lunch was way pass over. The kitchen was already cleaned, none of the food left out for You. Which made you grow annoyed. You walked back out of the kitchen and went to go back and work the fence.

“Hey, Y/n!” Rick called you from his spot in the garden. You smiled while walking over there. “Hey, Rick what’s up?” “I was wondering if you were up to go for a quick run? We need a few things and I forgot to tell the other group. You’re one our best supplies runners so I figured if you weren’t doing anything you could go for a quick supplies run.” You nodded, telling yourself it’s just one thing they need. It’ll be quick twenty minutes top.

“Thank you so much! Here’s the list.” He gave you the list and you looked over it. Medicines, pads and tampons, baby clothes, toiletries, batteries, flashlights and more.

“If you can’t get what’s all on the list don’t worry about it. We can get it another day.” You nodded looking at rick with a stressed smile. “Don’t worry I’ll try to get all of it.” He nodded and gave you a hug. “Thank you, y/n. -oh also Shane has some free time you might be able to get him to go on the supplies run with you.” You nodded as you pocketed the list. “I’ll go get ready.” You told him and he nodded.

You grabbed your backpack with some supplies if you have to stay out for the night. (Emergency food, water, extra flashlight.) You grabbed a couple empty duffle bags and went towards your white ‘89 Chevrolet crew cab. truck. You asked Shane if he was going and he said he was so he met you at the truck. You drive and he rode shot gun.

You were driving down the rode just enjoying the quietness. No hearing anyone asking you to do something. It was nice. You were wore out, but you knew you needed to do this for the group. It was the least you could do. Shane stared at you. He could tell you were wore out. It kind of worried him. Thinking you may be too wore out to do the run safely. But he trusted you and trusted what you said. He smiled as he had a plan.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today, Miss Y/l/n?” You looked at him with a knowing look. Shane had used a strong southern accent and you knew what that meant. He was trying to get you to laugh and smile, but you like to mess with him. Keeping a frown on your beautiful face which made him upset. Because he always loved seeing your smiling face.

“Well, Mr. Walsh. I ain’t gotta clue what your talkin ‘bout. The only person who calls me beautiful is my man.” You his your smirk in a frown. “Your man?” He asked looking at you confused. “Yes sir, my man is waitin’ for me at home. You know, he calls me beautiful too. But he also make sure my lunch don’t get taken up while I’m workin on someone who’s hurt.” You copied the southern accent.

His mouth was gaped he understood what you were saying now. “Well, maybe he was a bit busy doing something. And he thought the people in the kitchen knew you were gonna be back?” He offered you. “Well, he’s gotta make it up.” “How so?” “Well if a man really wants me. He’ll figure it out.”

You pulled up to a small town. About twenty minutes from the prison. Pulling in front of a small country store you looked at Shane with a serious look.

“Alright this is the list of things we need to get. We get what we need and get out. Don’t waste bullets. Use them when it’s needed. Knives only.” You told him and he nodded. You smiled leaning in and giving him a small peck of a kiss. “Alright, lets go.” Handing him a duffel bag and getting yourself one. You pulled out your hunting knife holding it up in a safe way as Shane pulled out is gun, just in case you opened the door and it be a lot of walkers there.

The run went alright there were a couple walkers were found in the store. You managed to get some of the things off the list. But by the time you got back to the prison you were wore out and still stressed. You were worried the things they had on the list were needed as soon as possible. You just worried yourself.

You managed to eat supper then you went straight to the showers and then went to bed. Your head was pounding as you sat on your bed. You tried to drink some water to get rid of the head ache, but it was still aching. You held your head when Shane walked in.

“You okay honey?” You looked up at him. “I’m fine. My head just hurts.” He nodded as he walked over to you. He looked like he just got out of the shower. His hair was wet and he had clean clothes on. He was just wearing a white shirt and a pair of pants. His feet bare as he took of his boots.

Your eyes were dropping as you slowly started to pass out. “Y/n?” He wrapped an arm around you and your eyes finally closed. You passed out from all the stress and from all of the things you’ve done today. You were just so wore out, your body just shut down. You did too much and this is your body telling you that. Shane tried to wake you up. Try to see if you were okay.

He picked you up and took you to Hershel. Luckily it wasn’t late and Hershel was still awake. “Hershel!” Shane called as he carried you inside the cell. “Shane, what happen?” Hersel looked over You trying to find any wounds to figure out why you were passed out.

“She passed out. I don’t know why. She was complaining about a headache before she passed out.” Hershel looked you over seeing no wounds then he remembered all you did today. He knew you were stressed. You told him the other day you were getting stressed. Shane Laid you onto the cot. “She passed out from stress.” Shame looked at Hershel confused. You hadn’t told him anything about being stressed. He knew you were, but not to the point of passing out.

“She’ll be okay. She’ll wake up in a few minutes.” Just as he said that you started waking up. You sat up holding your head. “Good morning, Y/n.” Hershel greeted you giving you a soft smile. You smiled at the old man but you were confused. “What’s going on?” You asked. “You passed out from stress. You do too much.” Hershel said as he took your hand in his. He felt your wrist feeling your pulse making sure your heart beat was good. “You need to rest. I’m glad Shane was with you when you passed out. You could fell and hit your head.” You nodded as you looked at Shane. Giving him a soft smile and taking his hand in yours. He rubbed soft circles on your hands.

You guys went back to bed. You laid down and smiled at Shane as he laid down beside you. “Thank you, for everything.” You gave him a soft kiss and pulled back. “You don’t need to thank me.” He told you as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you.” He mumbled softly. You smiled and kissed his cheek. “I love you too.”

*****

Ugh, the cringe. This I feel like is one of the worst I’ve ever wrote in my life. It makes no sense and to me seems rushed. So sorry if you don’t like it. 😅

#shane walsh #TWD #twd shane walsh #twd rick grimes #twd carl grimes #twd carol #twd imagines #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh x reader fic #shane walsh x reader imagine #shane walsh x reader fanfiction

[sparkandwolf]

It Started With A High Chair

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale Rating: General Summary: Stiles knew he was supposed to be impressed but he really just couldn’t wait for this date to be over. He was grateful when they were seated because over Chad’s shoulder was the cutie from before happily sipping on a milkshake.

The kid waved the minute he saw Stiles, flinging his oversized straw wildly, bits of strawberry ice cream landing on the table in front of him and the floor. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, covering it with a cough when Chad glared over at him.

Based on these tags from this post:

______________________

Stiles knew from the minute that Chad eyed his jeep with disdain in his eyes that he was not going to enjoy a minute of their date. In hindsight, he should have realized that anyone named Chad would not have been good company, but Stiles couldn’t really be to blame; it had been entirely too long since he had been on a date, especially one that could end in Stiles finally getting laid for the first time in too long for Stiles to admit without complaint.

“You said nothing fancy, so I thought this place could work,” Chad said like he was already annoyed with Stiles’ choice in dining. Stiles thought for a fleeting second that they should have just skipped the date and went straight to dessert. Sex in Stiles’ new bed his dad had bought him as a college graduation present would have been way more instantly gratifying. Stiles rolled his eyes and it didn’t go unnoticed by the man who walked in after them. The man looked away pretty quickly, but Stiles thought he saw a slight smile. He was glad for the small reassurance that he wasn’t completely off base with Chad’s comment.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

“This looks great. As long as they have good french fries, I’m usually easy to please,” Stiles joked, sending a friendly smile in Chad’s direction. Chad smiled back and Stiles was reminded why he had chosen this frat boy of all other guys he had met at Scott’s graduation party. The host called the name “Derek” and the man next to him grabbed a small hand and started walking into the dining area. Stiles took a closer look at the chocolate eyed child and sent him a large smile when he turned and noticed Stiles staring.

“Strike one against this place,” Chad commented with a roll of his eyes. Stiles glanced at him and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in question. “They came in after us and should be seated after us.” Chad said the words like they were obvious and Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

“He had a kid,” Stiles said in the same tone. “It’s only right that they are seated first,” Stiles continued at Chad’s questioning look. Chad smiled at him but Stiles could see the fakeness of it. He stood up and walked to the host, pointing at Stiles with that golden smile on his face. Stiles waved shyly, not quite sure what his date was doing, but assuming it was something annoying. The host seemed charmed as he chuckled and waved over a waiter. Chad turned with a pompous smirk on his face and beckoned Stiles over, sliding a hand around his waist in a possessive way Stiles wasn’t sure he liked.

“Stick with me and you’ll get priority everywhere you go,” Chad said. Stiles knew he was supposed to be impressed but he really just couldn’t wait for this date to be over. He was grateful when they were seated because over Chad’s shoulder was the cutie from before happily sipping on a milkshake. The kid waved the minute he saw Stiles, flinging his oversized straw wildly, bits of strawberry ice cream landing on the table in front of him and the floor. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, covering it with a cough when Chad glared over at him.

“So, how do you know Scott?” Stiles asked, trying to think of something to speak with this guy about. Again, he thought that they should have skipped dinner.

“Scotty and I go way back,” Chad said, leaning back in his chair and tossing an arm over the back. Stiles thought he was definitely the kind of person who took up two seats on the subway and didn’t offer the extra one to the elderly.

“I’ve known Scott since diapers,” Stiles said in return, finding himself pretty aggravated at the insinuation that Scott was better friends with this douchebag than he was with Stiles. Chad nodded slowly and glanced around the dining area, holding a hand up to wave over a waiter. Stiles groaned and wanted nothing more than to hide underneath the table.

“Can you bring us a few drinks stat? The stronger the better. Vodka in both,” Chad ordered with a snap of his fingers. Stiles reached out to touch the waiter’s arm.

“I’ll just have a coke, please. Hold the… strength. And take your time,” Stiles requested with a reassuring wink. The waiter sent him a thankful glance and started back toward the kitchen, sending a slight glare in Chad’s direction. Stiles knew exactly how he was feeling. When he turned back to Chad, he was looking down at his phone, typing away furiously and paying less than no attention to Stiles.

He didn’t mind as much as he should have, opting instead to glance back at the highchair behind his date. The kid was kicking his feet happily, gulping down the rest of his milkshake with a loud slurp. As if sensing Stiles’ gaze, he turned his head slightly and smiled the most adorable smile Stiles had ever seen no matter how much ice cream was caked around the child’s lips. Stiles smiled back and wiped his hands over his face dramatically. The kid mimicked him and then looked down at his hands, now covered in ice cream, and back up at Stiles with panic on his face.

“Lukas, napkin next time?” The man, Derek presumably, who Stiles thought had to be his father said begrudgingly, taking the kids, Lukas’, hands in his and wiping them down. Stiles applauded silently, holding his hands up so that Lukas could see his pride. Lukas smacked his own hands together, now clean and bared his teeth at Stiles again.

“What are you going to get?” Chad said, not even taking the time to glance up at Stiles. Stiles looked down at the menu and shrugged, flipping to the second page and closing his eyes. He swirled his finger around in the air before placing it down on the menu. “What are you doing?” Chad asked, furrowing his eyebrows. It wasn’t a good look for him. The same look was being sent to him from Derek and Stiles blushed heavily as the man noticed him.

“Um…” Stiles had to take a moment to think about what he was doing and shook his head as he looked back down at his menu. “I’ll eat pretty much anything and I’m bad at making decisions, so I just close my eyes and let my finger decide!” Stiles said as the waiter approached. “My finger decided I would get the turkey club with extra tomato and light mayo,” Stiles said with a smile. Chad wasn’t nearly as charmed as anyone else Stiles had been on a date with had been, but really, what was Stiles supposed to expect.

“Can you tell me more about the lobster roll? Frozen or fresh? I’m assuming frozen,” Chad started, but Stiles tuned him out, focusing again on the toddler. His father was holding up the menu and Lukas was aggressively poking at the back. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was pointing, too busy looking at Stiles and nodding his head like he was trying to mimic Stiles’ earlier movements. Stiles felt his heart burst at how cute the kid was.

“Lukas,” his father warned in a low voice. Stiles could see the slight smile on his face, though, and it had him smiling back. Lukas pulled back and crossed his arms with a pout before glancing at Stiles from the corner of his eyes. Stiles mimicked him that time, the pout on his lips over-exaggerated. He could see Lukas holding back his smile so Stiles stuck his tongue out instead, crossing his eyes along with it. Lukas was sent in a fit of screeching laughter that caused most of the other customers to stare. Stiles hid his face in his hands to conceal his laughter at the gruff look on Derek’s face.

“They really let anyone into this place, huh?” Chad commented a lot louder than Stiles would have liked. Derek glared over at them and Stiles sent him an apologetic glance as he peered down at the glass in front of him. When Chad looked back down at his phone, Stiles sighed and grabbed the straw from his cup.

“This place is great for everyone. It’s why I like it so much,” Stiles said in defense of the small restaurant. He wasn’t about to shell out big bucks on a date he wasn’t sure he was going to enjoy or risk Chad offering to pay for an overly expensive meal and then think Stiles was obligated to sleep with him. Stiles was a lot of things, but he wasn’t desperate enough to break his dry spell with someone like Chad and that was becoming clearer and clearer every second.

“I like to avoid children at any cost,” Chad said as he gestured back toward Lukas. The kid seemed to notice and looked down shyly, his feet stopping their happy kicking. Stiles glared at Chad before putting the bottom of his straw into his mouth and blowing the ripped piece of paper at the top of it directly into Chad’s face. Chad gaped at him, but Stiles barely noticed, his eyes set on Lukas who was smiling once more. Lukas’ father was barely holding in his laughter, trying to hide it behind a fist as he took a bite of his food. Stiles was satisfied that Lukas had smiled again and glanced back over to Chad.

“Kids keep us young,” Stiles said as he placed the straw back in his drink and blew bubbles into the carbonation. Chad looked around like he was ensuring no one was watching and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. “Lighten up, Chad. Would it kill you to be a little juvenile sometimes?” Stiles asked with a roll of his eyes.

Chad rolled his own in return and focused once again on his phone. “Acting like a child is a surefire way to not get laid,” he muttered with a shake of his head. Stiles gaped at him with wide eyes, blinking a few times as he didn’t even look up from his lap to insult Stiles. He pushed out his chair and reached into his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the table before walking toward the door with a huff.

“Where are you going?” Stiles turned to unleash his anger at Chad only to see Lukas’ dad standing behind him, Lukas propped on his hip. He looked past the man’s shoulder and saw Chad arguing with the waiter, not even bothering to look in Stiles’ direction.

“Apparently I’m going home. Alone. And not getting la--” He caught Lukas’ eyes, full of too much worry for such a small child, and cut himself off. “Late. Not being late. For my, uh, bedtime. Cause it’s very close to bedtime, isn’t it, little guy?” Stiles asked, reaching forward to run his finger down the bridge of Lukas’ nose. Lukas blinked slowly and watched Stiles’ hand as he pulled it back, resting his head on his father’s shoulder in tiredness.

“Sorry your date turned out to be such a dud,” the man said as he held the door open for Stiles. Stiles was just a little impressed at his ability to hold the sleeping child and be a gentleman all while being that good looking.

Stiles shrugged as he stepped out into the cold night air, taking a deep breath in and reveling in the chilliness. “I didn’t exactly say yes because of his strong intelligence,” Stiles admitted with a soft chuckle. The man laughed with him and started walking toward the parking lot, grabbing his keys out of one pocket to unlock the very unexpected red minivan a few yards away.

“Lukas really got a kick out of you. He doesn’t usually interact with people that easily,” he said as he glanced down at the almost sleeping child on his shoulder. Stiles peered down at Lukas as well and received a sleepy smile in return. Stiles’ heart clenched at the movement.

“I’ve got a whole classroom of little ones who think Mr. Stiles is the coolest,” Stiles commented, shrugging his shoulders again. The man laughed softly as they reached the car, propping Lukas a little higher on his hip. “Lukas is lucky to have such a cool dad like...” Stiles trailed off, the lamest attempt at confirming the man’s name, but every step closer to the car meant another step closer to them driving off without him knowing. And he really wanted to know what name to think about later.

“Derek,” he said in response, stopping in front of the car and taking a very intense interest in the gravel at their feet. “My name’s Derek. And this is…”

“Lukas!” If a voice could sound sleepy and excited all at once, that was the sound that escaped from the child’s mouth, almost cut short by the monstrous yawn that followed. Stiles chuckled along with Derek who swiped a hand across Lukas’ forehead.

“Someone is ready for bed,” Derek commented as he placed a gentle kiss on his son’s temple. Stiles didn’t think it was possible for him to be as instantly in love with someone as he was with Derek at that moment. His heart seemed to swell on his chest as Lukas nodded and seamlessly fell into sleep.

“Thank you for keeping me entertained during that horrible date. I hope you never have to go on one of those,” Stiles whispered as he brushed a soft hand over Lukas’ hair.

“Can I call you?” Derek asked quickly. He tilted his head at Stiles like he wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to speak and Stiles smirked to himself as he nodded. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I mean…” Stiles cut him off by holding his phone out, nodding at it for Derek to take. He did, entering his number before fumbling the phone back to Stiles. Stiles held back his laughter and took a few steps back toward his own car, very grateful he made Chad get into his beautiful jeep.

“Call me anytime,” Stiles said as he reached his car. He leaned onto it, watching as Derek buckled Lukas into his seat with such delicacy Stiles almost couldn’t take it. When he was done, he turned back toward Stiles and ducked his head when he saw Stiles watching intently. He sent one final shy wave before starting the car and driving off, leaving Stiles to bite down on his bottom lip to try to control his smile.

Stiles’ phone chimed when he’d settled himself in bed for the night and a simple, can i call now?, showed up on the screen followed up an adorable photo of a sleeping Lukas. Stiles wondered how long it took for marriage and adoption to be in the cards as he sent back a resounding, please.

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #my writing #this was so much fun to write #i love lukas and would die for him #this is why kidfics are impossible #jasdlkfjal;sdf #kidfic #sterek kidfic

[ayla-221bee]

The Five Times That Greg made Breakfast- 6-  Mycroft makes breakfast.

  Previous chapter:https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/627951450644971520/the-five-times-greg-made-breakfast-5-french

+1 Full English

Mycroft could not find the perfect moment to ask Greg that question. He carried the ring box all the time in the inner pocket of his suit jacket or in his briefcase, only putting it in the back of his sock index at the end of the day. He wanted to be prepared and would be able to propose once he had discovered the perfect moment to do so.

He had planned to ask over romantic dinners in high-end establishments but they had never gone to plan. Greg had been called out to work in between before the main course had arrived often. He had planned to propose in a quiet pub in Sussex after a lovely walk in the countryside with their new rescue dog, Rupert, but they ended up getting caught in a large shower of torrential rain and hailstones before they could reach the pub.

Mycroft tried to think of other suitable times and locations when he could propose with limited success. He just knew that it had to be perfect for Greg, he deserved nothing less for willingly putting up with his world of chaos and his quirks and he was a saint for all he had done for Sherlock over the years, among many other qualities that made him an absolutely perfect human being.

It would be simply foolish not to marry him.   He was an amazing cook and he baked his own bread; it would be the most stupid decision to not marry Gregory Lestrade.  

It was that morning that Mycroft decided that he would make Greg breakfast in bed.  Greg had often made him breakfast and did spoil him in the morning, even on his days off, by bringing him a mug of tea on the bedside table for when he woke up, occasionally with a homemade scone and jam on the side.

It only seemed perfectly fair to return the favour. Greg had done it for him so many times without a word or had to be asked, only doing it so out of love. It made Mycroft somewhat envious at times that Greg was able to allow himself to be loved and was able to show and express love with great ease.  He had so much love to give that he was almost radiant. He had a never-ending supply of it within him. He was not just a great man, he was also a good one.

He managed to slip out of the bed undetected, Greg was still snoring away with Rupert in the bed. Mycroft could not help smiling to himself, it was had become a favourite sight of his recently.  He had insisted to Greg that Rupert was going to be a dog that would not be allowed on the furniture on in the bed when they had adopted him. It had lasted all of five minutes before Rupert had made himself comfortable on the plush sofa right when they had brought him for the first time.

Mycroft often wondered if he had grown soft over the years. He reluctantly had to admit that he had turned as soft and melty almost like the inside of a marshmallow that had been burnt by a campfire. Almost gooey, he would never tell anyone that information, it would surely ruin him! He had a reputation to maintain, thank you very much!

Mycroft stared at the contents of the fridge for several moments before he closed it again, opening it again only moments later as if that alone would be able to help him find inspiration.  He did a similar action with all of the cupboards before he let out a heavy sigh when he realised that he did not know what would be suitable for breakfast or what he could actually make.

He never used to bother with breakfast until Greg arrived in his life and started to make his breakfast for him.  He had what Greg referred to as ‘liquid breakfast,’ until around one o’clock when he had his lunch, only having tea and the occasional coffee until he had a moment to actually eat.

With an annoyed grumble, Mycroft pulled out the packet of emergency ginger nuts that were only brought up when he was stuck on a tricky problem at work.

He wanted to make Greg a wonderful breakfast and it would be almost criminal to make him a subpar breakfast. He briefly considered ordering breakfast to the house and could decant it onto his own plates in the attempt to pretend that had cooked.

Mycroft shook his head to himself; he would hate to start the morning with a fib.   It was with the loud sigh that Mycroft reached into the fridge and pulled out a box of eggs and a packet of bacon. He tried to ignore the feeling that he was somewhat like his brother with this experiment in the kitchen.

Greg woke up to the smell of burning in the kitchen and the empty space in the bed. He could hear Mycroft mutter to himself in the kitchen, occasionally cursing.

He briefly entertained the idea that Mycroft had been cooking in the kitchen, but he quickly ignored the idea, it was more likely that the flat had been ambushed with armature arsonists than Mycroft making breakfast.

With great reluctance, Greg put on his dressing gown and left the bedroom.  

“Some guard dog that you are,” he grumbled to the dog that was in the bed, snoozing away, only moving to stretch out in the middle of the bed in a makeshift nest of the duvet.

He was surprised to see that Mycroft’s dressing gown was covered in flour and he was scrubbing at a burnt pan, muttering to himself. His cheeks were pink and he looked rather frazzled.  On the counter was the attempt of a full English, the bacon looked rather underdone, the toast was somewhat burnt and could not be salvaged. The fried eggs looked rather rubbery; the beans were congealed in one solid mass on the plate.  Greg was not sure what happened to the mushrooms or the tomatoes, he was rather afraid to ask about them.

“Are you doing okay, Myc?” Greg cautiously asked, keeping somewhat a distance from Mycroft by the kitchen.

Mycroft looked up from the sink and shot him a somewhat sheepish look. “I am not ‘okay,’” Mycroft grumbled, throwing the sponge into the sink with a sigh.

“Did you try to make me breakfast?” Greg asked, incredibly moved by the gesture even if the food was somewhat unreadable.  “What was the occasion?”

He started to pick at the plate when Mycroft did not answer and just looked mortified at the mess that he had made. “Greg, you don’t need to eat this,” he mumbled in response as Greg started to cover the plate in tomato sauce in the attempt to make the food somewhat edible.

“This is the sweetest thing that you’ve ever done for me,” Greg beamed, wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“You don’t deserve this!” Mycroft protested. “I should have just ordered in breakfast and put it on my own plates instead of letting you see this mess. I am not exactly marriage material if I cannot even make toast without it burning to a crisp.”

Greg pulled back from the embrace, surprised from the words that had left Mycroft’s mouth.  “Marriage material?”  he asked, not quite believing his own ears.

It was the thing that he had least expected to hear from Mycroft’s mouth.  He had entertained the idea of getting married to Mycroft often enough but did not think that Mycroft would not want to do so.  He had been rather nervous to bring up the topic of marriage himself, almost afraid what Mycroft would say.

They had a rather happy and domestic life much to Greg’s surprise. They had even reached the stage where they had a dog and enjoyed walks in the countryside together. They had even talked about the future together and what they would do when they eventually retired. The only thing that Greg knew for certain was that he wanted to spend it with Mycroft.  If someone told him years ago that Mycroft Holmes would be in a kitchen wearing an apron and attempting to make him breakfast, Greg would not have believed it.

“I can hardly be considered to be a suitable husband if I could not even make you breakfast,” Mycroft grumbled, unaware of what he had said.

“Are you wanting to get married?” Greg asked, shuffling somewhat awkwardly on the kitchen tiles.

“To you, I would very much like to,” Mycroft said without a moment of hesitation. “I have been wanting to propose, I have not found the right moment to ask.”

Greg swallowed hard; he could practically count the seconds as they passed him. He discreetly pinched himself in the hopes that he was not dreaming, it had been a rather strange morning, it had to be perfectly honest. “Why don’t you ask me now?” He asked, suddenly finding the strength to talk.

“Greg,” Mycroft said with a somewhat frustrated sigh. “This isn’t a perfect moment. I was wanting to wait until the perfect moment.”

“Make it a perfect moment then,” Greg said with a shrug.

Mycroft let out a heavy sigh and wiped his hands with a tea towel. He looked somewhat sheepish and embarrassed. He cleared his throat several times and fiddled with the tie of his dressing-gown nervously.  “Marry me,” he said.

“Is that an order?” Greg asked with a grin, teasing. “You are demanding that I marry you?”

“It is not like I am asking if you want to sign a petition, Gregory,” Mycroft comment, a shy smile was on his face. “Would you like to marry me? There is little reason to hesitate.”

Greg considered the matter carefully and looked at Mycroft’s disaster of a full English breakfast with great care. “I’ll marry you,” he said, the grin making his way across his features. “Only if you promise to never make breakfast ever again.”

Mycroft happily agreed to his proposition.  The smile on his face was breath-taking.

@piemaker-from-gallifrey @cannon-32

#Mystrade #mystrade fanfic #Mystrade fanfiction #Sherlock #sherlock BBC #bbc sherlock #sherlock fic #mycroft and lestrade #mycroft and greg #Mycroft x Lestrade #Mycroft Holmes #greg lestrade #gregory lestrade

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day Seven

Notes: Right... confession time.. So, I posted this fic yesterday... But, I’ve been having a really difficult mental health week (lots of self-doubt, self-isolation, and weeping) and it all came to a head last night when I spiraled and deleted this story (my depression/anxiety/Imposter Syndrome demon caught up to me, I guess). I was also close to deleting all my other fics and potentially closing my account, but @fight-surrender and my amazing husband talked me down from the ledge so to speak. It was actually their support, along with the amazing kindness of @giishu that convinced me to repost my story... so here it is. 

Lyrics are inspired by “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by The Beatles. However, I was inspired by the version from “Across The Universe”, sung by T.V. Carpio (Such a great movie and soundtrack). 

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for their writing support and amazing beta-reads. 

Also, this is the last story until the Angst prompt... I’m also gonna take it easy with my writing. Going back into it after 8 years of numbness and denying my passion hasn’t been easy and it’s beginning to take its toll on me. I have so many ideas, but I want to feel well enough in my head to be able to write them properly (in case you haven’t noticed, I like writing about healing and hopeful futures... kinda hard to do that if you’re spiraling). I’ve got a few more stories already prepared for the Countdown, but I’m not making any promises on writing for other prompts. 

TW: Extremely minimal (like blink and you’ll miss it) reference to drugs.

Day 7 Prompt: WLW

Title: I Wanna Hold Your Hand

________________________________________________________________

Please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand. Now, let me hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand. 

FIONA

The music here is bloody terrible.

So’s the alcohol. But what else can I expect from a dingy little pub in this dodgy area of the city? Besides, it isn’t the alcohol I’m here for, which is a shock, considering how much of it I drink. 

Nor am I here for this horrid music. I look at the stage and a skinny little whelp is crooning a pathetic rendition of a Pink Floyd song. Kid can’t be older than 18, of course he’s singing a Floyd song. I swear, you  listen to Dark Side of The Moon one time, and suddenly you think you know everything there is to know about music. 

Good Lord… he’s doing a Floyd medley. News flash, boyo, you cannot transition from Wish You Were Here to Another Brick in The Wall without raising a few eyebrows. 

He isn’t a bad looking bloke though. Shaggy brown hair, styled so it’s away from his eyes. He’s got a bit of a long, oval-shaped face, a little gaunt, but not too much. He reminds me of someone… Ah… George Harrison! He’s got a bit of a George Harrison vibe, I reckon. A part of me wants to snap a photo of him and ask Baz if he’d fancy him, but the last time I did that, he chewed my ear off for a week. 

Dramatic little shit. I’m only trying to help. He’s so edgy all the time. Baz is about to head into his final year at Watford and honestly, he needs to let loose and have a little fun, before the pressures of being a Pitch crushes him…

Maybe I’m being the dramatic shit...

I leave George Harrison to his crooning (Christ, he’s moved onto Money. Does he only know the popular Floyd songs? Tosser), and direct myself to the bar. The person I’m here to see greets me with a wide, toothy smile. 

“Well well, look who it is. How are you, love?” bellows Shannon Ryan (Shan for short). Shan is the annoyingly vivacious proprietor of the Golden Griffin Pub and Inn. She is all hair (bright, thick, ginger-red, with a generous amount of blond and strawberry-blond highlights, that falls in tight ringlets down her back) and little to no filter. She’s the kind of person that can decide in an instant if she’ll offer you a free pint, or if she’ll drag your sorry arse onto the curb. Most of the time, she’ll offer you the pint and a wink of her dark brown eyes. 

I give her a half smile and take a seat in front of her. Shan pours me a glass of Chivas (Bless her, she knows I love the stuff) and leans her elbows on the counter. I salute her and nod at George Harrison.

“Heads up Shan, if your lad starts playing Comfortably Numb, I may have to murder him with his own guitar.”

Shan playfully punches my shoulder. Normally, I’d retaliate with a knife to the throat, but I’m not nearly so… angry when Shan’s around. I can relax around her and allow myself to be a little playful. 

“Aw, come on now Prue, Mickey’s not that bad. A little rough around the edg-” She starts to laugh, because George Harrison’s begun to sing Comfortably Numb and I begin to crack my knuckles. Shan grabs my hands and gives them a pat. “Alright, very rough around the edges, but he’s a sweet kid.”

I met Shannon about 4 months ago. It was during one of my lower points. I had been on a wild bender, drinking, smoking up, everything. At some point, I lost all recollection of where I was and what was happening. I still don’t know how long I’d been out of my mind at that point, but I somehow ended up at Shan’s pub, trashed out and rambling nonsense. Shan took one look at me and she decided that she would give me a room and a bed, instead of throwing me out (a horrible decision, really). I woke up in an unknown room, in an unknown bed with her knocking on the door. 

I nearly killed her. 

Shan managed to calm me down and gave me some breakfast. Fat greasy bangers, perfectly poached eggs, fried tomatoes and back bacon. She had informed me that I had been out for quite a while. I remember feeling like a numpty had taken a beating to my head. She had offered to let me stay there so that I could recover from whatever was causing me distress. Instead of taking the hint and staying there, I gathered my belongings while she was gone and slipped out. That would have been the end of it, but I had returned a few days later to pay for my room and board. Shan refused to take my money, and instead asked that I pay her back by coming to see her from time to time. Originally, I was only supposed to come see her until the end of the month… But here we are, four months later and I still find myself wanting to come see her. 

Shan doesn’t know my real name (She knows me by my middle name, Prudence… I swear my family gets its kicks from naming their offspring ridiculous names), nor that I am a magician from a long line of magical aristocracy. She does not know that I am embroiled in the middle of a war that threatens to rip my world and my family apart. Maybe that sense of escapism is why I keep coming back here, why I keep flirting with this Normal pub owner. 

I turn back to her now. She is cleaning some of the dirty glasses that have been left on the bar counter. It’s a quiet evening tonight, not many patrons at the pub. Shan’s pub can gain a small gathering during the weekends, mostly young folks out on a crawl. Some tend to stay here on account of the atmosphere, and Shan’s personality. Tonight’s one of the quieter nights. I blame George Harrison mucking it up on the microphone.  

“Where do you find these characters, Shan?”

“Beats me. They sometimes just show up needing a spot. Mick’s been tossed out from his home, poor child. I give him a room, he works the bar. It all works out.”

Shan sometimes uses her rooms to shelter people who may need a place to stay. I wasn’t a special case for her. Any misfit or vagabond has a place to stay at Shan’s. I suppose that explains George Harrison, who has just finished his set and has exited the stage, thank Merlin for that. She’s now turned on her online music playlist, an eclectic mix of punk, classic rock, and current indie songs. It makes no bloody sense, but the patrons aren’t mad about it. 

“You’re too generous Shan.” She rolls her eyes and proceeds to serve some other patrons who have been waiting for her. Once George Harrison arrives behind the counter, she sends him off to prepare orders while she turns back to me. 

“And you, my dear friend, are far too cold. What brings you here tonight? Chasing one of your hoodlums, again?”

With the war brewing between the Old Families and the Mage, I have been tracking down members of the magical community who have been shunned and cast away by the Mage and his reforms. The Old Families believed that we could find some support amongst the masses who’ve been mistreated by Davy and his band of Merry Men. If I’m in the area, I’ll stop by the pub for a quick drink and a chat. 

Like I said, it’s been happening more often than not. 

Today is different. I am not here because I’m in the area. I felt the need to be here. Maybe it’s the bitter heat of August in London; Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s August 13th, the thirteenth anniversary (plus a day) of my sister’s death that brings me here. Normally, I’d be home, drinking myself into a stupor until enough time has passed where I don’t feel the grief anymore. I never allow myself to drink on the actual day of her death, because I’m too busy spending the day with Basil and Malcolm (Basil mostly), making sure that they’ve kept their heads in one place. I look out for my nephew first and once the day has passed, I go home and begin my process of drinking and mourning.

For some reason, I didn’t want to be home alone today. I don’t know what came over me, but I felt I needed to be here, at Shan’s pub. But I’ll never tell her that. So instead I put on my classic Pitch smooth face and smile slyly at her. 

“Who says I need a reason to be here? Maybe I just decided to come over.” Shan rolls her eyes at me. She faces me and leans over the counter, inches from my face. I have to look away, in case she notices the small blush creeping over my cheeks. I take another sip of my Chivas before looking at her once more. I tilt my head at her and smile. She places her hand on mine and pushes it down, until the glass is back on the counter.

“You’ve always got a reason, Prue. You don’t allow yourself to do anything simply because you want to.” Now, I roll my eyes at her. I down the remainder of my Chivas and slam the glass back down on the counter. I cross my arms over my chest and pull myself back from the counter. 

“Oh? And what exactly do I want?”

Shan also steps back from the counter. She’s got her hands on her hips and shrugs at me. She takes the bottle of Chivas and pours me another glass. 

“I am not nearly qualified enough to untangle the mess in your mind, Prue. I can only offer a listening ear and a reasonable amount of alcohol.” She leans back against the wall. I stare at her for a minute and take in how she looks in the pub’s dim light. Shan’s got incredibly light skin, but it isn’t entirely pale and the dim lighting in here is showcasing her pretty features. She’s wearing a black tank top under a dark purple vest that cuts just at her waist. She’s got on dark jeans and a light gold studded belt. Shan pulls her hair back into a very high, very messy bun at the top of her head. A few strands still hang loose and frame her face. I draw a shaky breath and take a sip of my scotch. I speak softly, more to the glass than to her. 

“My sister died. Yesterday has been 13 years since she died.” Shan relaxes her posture and approaches me again. I don’t shift my position at all. If she thinks she can get me to open up more than that, she’s wrong. I won’t come undone by a pretty girl with bright red hair. 

“You don’t want to be alone then?” Shan reaches for my hand. I don’t let her take it. I’m still focusing on my drink and the patterns of the wood grains on the counter. 

“I am perfectly fine to be alone Shan! I’ve been alone for many years, what’s another one?” I straighten my back even further, attempting to close off my walls. They had been slowly coming down as I spend more time with Shan, but thinking about yesterday, about Tasha, about the losses in my life, have caused me to build them back up with a more reinforced metal. 

Now, I’m here again, in front of Shannon, and the metal around my heart is starting to melt again. What power does this Normal have over me that she can make me feel this way? Shan exits from her side of the bar and she comes to sit down next to me. I want to turn away from her, but I can’t find it in me to do so. I’m running my fingers along the rim of the glass when I feel her tough, guitar-calloused hand lay on top of mine. I refuse to look her in the eyes. She gently places my hand on the counter and turns it over. I finally look at her as she clasps her hand in mine.

“What if you didn’t have to be alone?” Her deep brown eyes are staring right into my grey ones. I can feel my heartbeat beginning to pick up. My breathing becomes a little erratic. I have not felt this in such a long time. Not since my final year at Watford. Not since I had my heartbroken into pieces and decided to shut it down forever. I start to pull my hand away, but Shan holds it tight. I frown at her and glare at her a little bit. 

“People like me are meant to be alone.” I try to make my voice sound icy and intimidating. But, Merlin help me, it sounds breathless, like I’m chocking it out. I take a sharp inhale of breath through my nose. Shan, the fool that she is, reaches over and grabs my other hand, she gently turns my body towards her and leans a little closer to me. She speaks in a soft and calm voice. I almost miss what she says because of the music in the background. 

“You don’t have to be alone.”

She leans in closer to me. I feel a small flutter in the pit of my stomach. I want to lean into her as well, but something stops me. I can’t. I can’t. Not again. Never again. I pull away from her and jump out of my seat. I ignore the confused and saddened look on Shan’s face and I fumble in my bag for my wallet. 

“I have to go.”

Shan grabs my arm and tries to look at me again. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me coming undone. I will not let another person into my heart only for them to destroy it again. I can’t handle more pain and misery. 

“Wait… Prue I-” She’s going to beg me to stay, I don’t give her a chance to finish.

“Thank you, Shannon. I’ll see you soon.” I pull out some notes and slam them onto the counter. I yank my arm away from Shan’s grasp and stalk out of the pub, leaving her sorrowful brown eyes behind me. 

I am meant to be alone. I don’t need anyone, especially not some nobody Normal. Even if the same nobody Normal is currently holding a key to my heart. I go home, fully intent on drinking my conflicting feelings away.

________

Six weeks.

Basil’s been missing for six weeks and I haven’t had any luck in finding him. 

I have tried every bloody spell I could think of. I have poured over every single one of Natasha’s old books in that blasted library. I have even tried to contact some of the undesirables in my midst to see if any of them knew anything. None of them could tell me any information. Even though I threatened and screamed and even cast spells to force them to give me any information, none of them had any information to give me. 

I was losing my mind. I wanted nothing more to march into Watford myself and threaten the bloody Mage himself, or even that stupid snivelling little magling, Simon Snow. The only thing preventing me from torching the damn school was the fact that The Mage knew exactly where Baz was and he could decide to retaliate by hurting or even killing him. He was not above murder, the bastard. 

The latest call we got from the numpties had demanded wands from us. They must have been bloody joking. Malcolm, the fool, was already looking for spare wands. I called him a spineless idiot, and if he couldn’t see that this wasn’t about a simple ransom, well then he really was more feebleminded than I thought. I told him that my sister scraped the bottom of the barrel when she married a Grimm and stomped out of the manor. 

The bloody numpties were holding him near some water, so I drew up a map of potential spots where he could be hidden. I was not going to rest until I searched each and every one, no matter how long that took. 

I now find myself walking down a familiar dodgy street, towards a familiar pub. I have not been back since Shan grabbed my hand and I almost allowed her a piece of me. I decided that I would not go back there and risk anything more happening between Shan and myself. To go back would mean I would have to talk about what almost happened, and to do that would mean I would have to either lie to her or give into my feelings, neither option really appealing to me. Still, I need to start a fight. I need to yell at something and punch something. And the thought of Shannon throwing me out of her pub and her life because I caused a fight with her patrons is exactly what I need to revitalize myself on this search mission. 

I storm into the establishment and see a few confused clientele staring at me. I should pick out which unfortunate character will be my target, but my eyes wander to the bar. I want Shan to be watching. 

She isn’t there. But her pathetic little ward is. I march to the bar and before the weasel says anything, I grab his shirt sleeve and pull him over the bar counter. I roughly toss him to the floor. The boy yelps in surprise and lifts his hands up to protect his face. I am not done yet. I am about to lift him up, when someone grabs my arm. I spin around and I’m about to deck them, when I see her deep brown eyes. 

“PRUE! That’s enough!” Shan looks absolutely murderous with rage. I have never seen that look on her face before. I give her a cold hard stare and sneer at her. 

“Get. Your. Bloody. Hands. OFF. ME!” Shan returns my stare with a scowl of her own. She keeps her hand secured on my jacket and begins to drag me outside. 

“We’re going outside, NOW!” 

Well that was fast. I didn’t even get to have any fun. 

Shan shoves me outside and practically tosses me onto the floor. I am astounded by the strength she has, considering just how skinny she is. But she does this for a living. She’s had to toss out larger folks than myself. I dust off my jacket and straighten out my jeans before turning to Shan, who is still wearing a livid look on her face. Her hair, although braided, has a frizzy halo that surrounds it. I already regret coming here. 

“I like you, Prue. But I will not have you starting fights in my pub! Either you tell me what’s gotten into you, or you can kindly fuck off!” She points an accusing finger at me and then out towards the street. I should be honest with her, but I have a knack for self-destruction, so I push my luck.

“Oh fuck off Shan!” She steps back, shocked at first by my demeanor. But she then shakes her head and scoffs. She steps up to me and responds with a coldness of her own.

“If you insist! But this whole tough bitch attitude is getting bloody exhausting! Call me once you’ve calmed yourself” she says as she begins to walk away. I want to let her go back. I want to watch her leave and never see her again. But my damn head won’t let her leave. I call out before I have a chance to stop myself.

“My nephew’s missing...” Shan stops in her tracks. She turns to me, her furious face already changed to one of deep concern. “He’s been missing for nearly 6 weeks and I’m going out of my bloody mind!” 

She approaches me cautiously. I know she is still very angry with me and my actions. She asks me smoothly, “Have they demanded a ransom?” Shan knows well enough to not ask about law enforcement. With the type of charges she takes in, the reality is that law enforcement will typically make matters worse. 

I roll my eyes and answer her. “We don’t pay ransoms in my family!” 

Shan stares incredulously at me, “Are you daft? I don’t know what kind of business you’re running Prudence, but I think the life of your nephew is worth a ransom payment, yeah?”

“This isn’t about a ransom, Shannon! It’s something more! Oh forget it! I’m wasting time, I could be using to search under bridges or in sewers!” This was a mistake. I never should have come here. I turn my back to Shan and start to walk away. 

“Under bridges?” She asks me. I stop and turn back to her. 

“The kidnappers sounded like they were near running water when they called. Which, considering this bloody city, could be fucking anywhere!”

“Christ…” Shan starts to shake her head. She put her hand to her face, as if she was starting to ponder something. It is enough for me to march right back up to her.

“What is it!?”

“I thought he was being batty…” Shan delivers that line in such a thoughtful way that I almost want to be gentle with her. 

Almost. But Basil is missing and this is the first tiny morsel of a clue that I have had for six weeks. So I grab Shan’s shoulders and press her further.

“Who was?! What do you know Shan!?” She frowns at me and shrugs me off.

“Nothing, Prue! I volunteer at one of the homeless shelters in the city and one of our regulars was going on about how one of his favourite sleeping spots near the river was overrun with boulders. It looked like someone was trying to hide something there. The man’s a little mad. He claimed that some of the boulders were moving.”

Moving boulders?! Bloody fucking hell! That’s it! That’s fucking it! Six weeks, I’ve been going mad trying to find Basil, and all this time, the one place I should have been looking was amongst the vagabonds and the homeless. Christ, go figure I’d find my most important clue with Shannon fucking Ryan.  

“Where is he now!!?” I demand of her.  Maybe a little too harshly. I really couldn't care less if I hurt Shan’s feelings anymore. I need to find this drifter as soon as I can. 

“Prue! You can’t be-” Shan tries to calm me down, but I am not having it. I am so close to bringing my nephew home, I am not stopping now. I get up to her face and nearly shout at her.

“You tell me where he is now, Shannon, or I swear to Christ…” Shan shakes her head at me, but she caves in and sighs at me. 

“You are a lunatic, Prudence. But he’s most likely at Whitechapel. He’s been spending most of his time th- Prue!” I’m already walking away. I have all the information I need.

“I’ll see you later, Shan.” I say to her. Maybe if I survive this, I’ll come back and apologize for being a proper psychopath towards her. Maybe she’ll forgive me. For now, I have more important matters to attend to.

“Prue! Come back! You can’t do this alone!” 

That’s where you’re wrong Shannon. I’ve had to do everything on my own. It’s what I’m best at. I can still hear her shouting into the night, even though I am far from the pub at this point. 

“PRUDENCE!”

________

I am once more, back at the Golden Griffin. The pub has just closed for the night, but I know that Shan is still inside. She usually stays behind a few hours after closing time in order to clean up the place. I stand right in front of the door, taking a few moments to decide if I want to knock on her door, or if I should leave. I lift my fist to the window on the door. I’m about to knock when Shan’s head pops up from the side of the door. She looks surprised to see me at first, then… is that relief? She whips the door opened and pulls me inside. 

“Prudence…” she whispers to me. She holds my hand in hers. Merlin, what is she doing to me? I let go of her hand and stuff my hands into my jacket pockets. I clear my throat and start to talk.

“He was alive. I found him in time.”

“Your nephew. I’m so relieved to hear that.” She’s got her hand over her heart and she sighs in relief. Has she truly been worried this whole time? 

I feel guilty for not coming back sooner. But I had to make sure Baz was fine and then well, I wanted to start planning retribution for this attack on my family. I hadn’t realized that it was mid-November and I still had not gone to see Shan. 

And so, here I am. At 2AM on a Tuesday. At this pub once more, in front of this Normal. This Normal who is nobody important, from a nobody family. Yet, all I’m hoping is that she can forgive me for my foolishness. 

“You said I couldn’t do it alone. I did it alone. I found him, I got him back. I didn’t need anyone.” I just have to antagonize her, don’t I? I am a Pitch after all. Shan shakes her head, like she was ready for this to begin with an argument. 

“I’m happy for you Prue. Truly, I am.” She responds with an icy sarcasm. Her arms are crossed and she is leaning away from me. She isn’t up for having a go at me. I take a half-step towards her and offer an olive branch.

“My real name’s Fiona. Fiona Pitch.” Shan drops her hands to her hips. She gives me a cold stare and shakes her head. She then raises her hands slightly only to cross them again. She’s upset and I can’t say I blame her. I’ve only been lying to her for several months. 

“Fiona. Christ… Alright…”

“Prudence is my middle name. I didn’t know you.” I offer her an explanation. She rolls her eyes at that and continues to stare at me. 

“Fine, Fiona. What do you want from me?” She waves her arms and points to her chest. I furrow my eyebrows. I don’t know how to answer her question. I also don’t like how she calls me Fiona with disdain in her voice. As if she’s talking to someone she doesn’t know or care for. I suppose I deserve that. 

“I don’t need anyone. I’m perfectly fine to be on my own.” I take another half-step towards her. 

“What do you want from me, Fiona?” She asks me again. She is challenging me. Her voice, while still severe, is more inquisitive. She wants me to answer her, to let her in. To allow her another piece of me. 

I am not ready to answer her. Instead I continue to fight her and my own feelings. 

“I do not want another person coming into my life only to destroy it again!” I turn my head away from her as I expose a tiny piece of myself. Shan now steps forward. She is a breath away from me now. I want to touch her hair, her face, her hands. 

“What do you want from me, Fiona?” Her voice has now lost its edge, its icy tone. She is softer now, asking me to trust her. She reaches for my hand. I let her take it. I look down at our clasped hands, and I remember the last time she did this. I’m going to try and not run away again.  

“But then you held my hand… You held my hand. And you told me I didn’t have to be alone!”

“I did.” She says so sincerely. 

“And you helped me find my nephew.” I try to divert the conversation. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Merlin help me, I am not ready for this. 

“I can’t take credit for that.” One of her hands has reached up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You helped me.”

“What do you want from me Fi-” She asks one last time. I feel her breath on my face. I give in.

This time, I am ready to answer her. 

I lean forward and kiss her. Her lips feel so soft, if a little chapped. Shan responds and returns my kiss. One of my hands has moved to the back of her head. I feel her thick soft curls in my hand. She has gripped my face in her hands. I feel her tilt her head and start softly nibbling on my bottom lip. I respond by lightly running my tongue over her teeth. I’ve wanted this for so long. Merlin knows why I’ve been denying it to myself. Our kiss breaks apart and Shan leans her head on the crook of my neck. 

“You. I want you, Shannon. Ever since you grabbed my hand and threw my world into bloody turmoil!” I whisper into her hair. She pulls away from me and looks at me as if I’m the most insane person in the world. She wouldn’t be wrong to assume that. I’m pretty sure there is a history of insanity within my family. 

“Well fuck, Prue… All you had to do was ask. But instead you ran away and acted like a bloody maniac. You could have talked to me, you know!” She shakes me lightly. 

“I bloody well could not!” I look away from her and shake my head. She wouldn’t understand. I am not the type of person who stands at the doorstep of a lover begging them to take them back or to love them. Even if I was, Shan’s life is wholesome and uncomplicated. All I am is one complication after another. She doesn’t need that in her life. 

“Why not? Help me understand you, Prue.” She’s grabbed my face again and she’s staring me down. Merlin help me, in the light, her eyes look like pools of honey. I grab her wrists tight. 

“I’m a bloody mess, Shan. I have no direction. I’m a disgrace to my family. A disgrace to my name.” Shan smiles at me. She runs her hands through my hair and I sigh. I’m a fucking mess. If my sister could see me now, she’d be so fucking disappointed. 

“You don’t have to be FIONA PITCH with me.” I snort sarcastically as she says my name with a snooty accent. “With me, you can be Prue. I like Prue a whole lot. She’s wild. She’s intense, but she’s got a good heart. She’s bloody gorgeous to.” With that, she grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me into another deep kiss. My hands trail down to her hips and hold her in place. My thumbs tuck inside the hem of her jeans and run across her skin. It feels so soft. So perfect.  We pull away again and I laugh a little. 

“I can’t promise that I won’t run away or that I won’t be a complete maniac.”

“I can’t promise that I won’t kick your arse for being completely daft!” Shan flicks my white streak. 

“This could be a bloody disaster…” 

“Or not... Just don’t threaten my bartender again, or I may have to kill you.” She gives me a playfully wink, but I know she’s dead serious. I respond with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of my head. 

“I’d like to see you try.”

 With that, Shan cocks a half smile at me. She takes me by the hand and leads me away from the pub towards the stairs that lead to the Inn. She closes the lights as we walk up the stairs. 

I am not ready to give my heart to another person who could very well break it. But with Shan, I’m willing to risk it. 

Normal life be damned. 

And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide. 

#carry on countdown #coc 2019 #wlw #repost #because i'm a mess #fiona pitch #badass fiona #next day repost #i won't delete it this time #carry on #wayward son #no spoilers here #my writing #fanfic #piss off demon #I'm still here and I'm still fighting

[shadowsndaisies]

HW18D3 - Halloween Party

HW18D7 → Halloween Party

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers → “Captain America”

WC: 3753

2k18 Holiday Masterlist                            normal masterlist

“Good morning everyone!” your cheery voice rang out as you entered the kitchen, you noticed Bucky, Sam and Clint were sitting on the sofa connected to the open concept living room, Tony was by the stove, Wanda and Nat were sitting at the island table across from them Thor and Bruce. Vision was staring at the sleeping boy on the other couch, Peter.

“Morning, (Y/n),” Steve raised his mug from where he was standing, leaning against the counter beside the coffee machine he offered a soft smile as you met his blue eyes, you sent one back.

“Oh good you’re here, you wanna take over for me?” Tony asked, looking back to you.

“What are you doing?” Nat asked looking over to Tony.

“I’m making breakfast!” Tony told them and then Wanda turned to me.

“You better take over,” she smirked, sipping her tea.

You laughed as you walked over, taking a look at what Tony was making you shook your head, he was making bacon. Moving to the fridge you began to pull out all sorts of stuff, eggs, rice, green onions, bell pepper, onion, tomatoes, Portuguese sausage, you quickly and precisely began throwing everything together. You cut the veggies, prepped the sausage, and cooked the rice, then everything went in together and soon enough you were plating the food for everyone. First Wanda, and Nat, then Tony, Thor, and Bruce, next was Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Clint, and then you made two final plates one for your self and one for the sleeping teenager. You took both your plates into the living room, setting them both down on the coffee table by Steve before you walked over and crouched in front of Peter.

“Pete, bud, you gotta get up,” you said softly to the teenager boy but gained no response. “Peter…” you cooed again, this time a hand coming up to tuck his mussed hair back. In the short time since Tony had introduced Peter to you, you’ve had this sort of older sister like relationship with the kid, he was extremely sweet and intelligent and it was so easy for you to love the kid. So you did your best to let May know he was okay when he was spending the night or working late and you did everything you could to make sure the kid was doing his best to stay alive.

At his name the second time he shifted slightly and his eyes opened, he let out a small grunt at the sunlight shining in through the big open windows.

“C’mon, kid, I made breakfast,” you smiled as you moved back towards the other couch, you sat down in between Bucky and Steve, before pulling your plate to your lap. Peter sluggishly fell from the other sofa before basically crawling over to the coffee table, he sat down there so the table was level with his chest before picking up a fork and tucking into the fried rice before him.

You wore a small smile as you pulled out your phone, and snapped a picture of him, you then sent it to May to let her know you fed him breakfast and that he was safe with you all for the moment. Then you went back to your food.

“This is great, doll,” Bucky smiled as he nudged your shoulder with his.

“Glad you like it Sarg,” you smile back at him.

“Okay! Everybody, since you’re all eating this is my chance to tell you, that Friday we are having a Halloween party!” Tony announced gaining a few cheers.

“Are we to dress up?” Vision asked from where he was standing beside Wanda.

“Yes! Dress up is mandatory, and it cannot be your suits,” Tony said before someone could ask. “Also, (Y/n) I need your help with set up, kid you too!” Tony added as he walked towards his lab, plate, and coffee in hand.

“He’s always dragging you into stuff…” Sam chuckled taking a sip of his coffee.

“You’re not wrong but, it’s okay, Halloween is probably one of my favorite times of the year, making this place a little more spooky will be fun,” you shrug.

~~time skip~~

“Alright kid, you ready?” you asked, looking at Peter as you grabbed your purse and pulled on a jacket.

“I don’t get why I have to go,” Peter whined.

“Well, I’m not leaving you here all day. Also, I need another set of hands and who’s better than you?” you laughed.

“Anyone, literally anyone would be better than a sleep-deprived, web-slinging, teenage kid that can stick to walls who has homework due Monday,” Peter negated with a serious look on his face.

“You know for someone who stutters through nearly every sentence with Tony, kid’s got balls,” Bucky called as he suddenly appeared through the corridor.

Peter turned red and you let out a loud laugh, “I think it’s because I let him get comfortable with me, and look what ya did, Sarg. I think you broke him.”

“(y/n)...” Peter grumbled softly under his breath.

“Yeah, alright. Bucky would you like to help me with my Halloween shopping, in place of this poor child who seems to be having trouble with balancing life,” you throw the subtle dig towards the boy who’s become basically your little brother.

You received a chuckle from Bucky and an elbow from Peter, “sorry doll, I already have some stuff to do today, but take Steve, I don’t think he’s doing   today.”

You felt your heart rate quicken, Steve Rogers meant something to you, and while you were pretty sure on what you wanted, you also believed it wouldn’t be the same for him, “Thanks Buck but I’m sure Steve has something  to do.”

“What do I have to do?” Steve asked as he walked into the kitchen, you silently began cursing his super soldier hearing.

“(y/n) needs some help with the Halloween shopping and the kid doesn’t want to go,” Bucky nutshelled.

“What? Kid, why not? Halloween’s great!” Steve asked walking closer an energy drink now in his hand.

“See, if Captain America says Halloween is great, then Halloween is great,” You smirk.

“I’m not saying Halloweens not great, I’m just tired,” he stresses to you, and you know there’s something else going on.

“Fine, do your own thing, but you have to buy your own Halloween costume,” you huff, giving in.

He gives you a quick hug before running off, “thanks (Y/n)!”

“Make sure you eat lunch!” you shout after him.

Bucky starts to chuckle and you whip around from where you had stared after Peter to glare, “What?”

“Nothing,” bucky smirks and you give him a look, “you just sound a lot like a mom.”

“The me before this team would have taken offense to that, but since everyone on the team is either mentally the same age as Peter or younger, they require my internal motherly instincts,” you snark back at him.

“Ouch,” Bucky covers his heart with his hand, “you hurt me, doll.”

“Take your dramatics out of here, Barnes. I’ve got a Halloween party to prepare for,” your leveled look breaks into a smile, Bucky always knew how to make you laugh, he was just good at getting a smile out of people.

“Yes Ma’am,” he mocks salutes before grabbing his water bottle and walking off.

“You know, if you need some help with the party prep, I’d be glad to lend a hand, not that you’re not capable of doing it on your own, but if you need any I mean…” Steve fumbled and your smile grew, you found it adorable.

“I’d love some help Steve,” you cut him off and he flashes you a smile of slight relief.

“Great, let me grab my jacket,” he nods.

“Meet me by the elevator,” you tell him as you both split off.

A few minutes later Steve met you beside the elevator and then the two of you were off. You had been gone maybe 2 or 3 hours and when you got back you both were holding a multitude of bags, all full of Halloween decorations and your costumes while going through the stores, the two of you had somewhere decided to dress up together.

It really was a spur of the moment decision because one second you were debating on which cauldron would look better on Tony’s coffee table and then he had placed a pair of devils horns on your head. You had laughed and as you turned you noticed the angels halo. You quickly had it moved the headband through his hair settling it nicely.

And then that’s was it, your costumes decided, the two of you had decided to be the two sides of one’s conscience, the devil and the angel. You had a red dress you had used for an op that would work perfectly and there was little doubt that Steve wouldn’t be able to pull together something in white.

About half an hour into setting up Sam, Wanda and Clint walked into the main room to see you and Steve decorating.

“Oh good, more people, grab a box, they’re all labeled with where to go and there’s a post-it for recommendations,” you shout back to the three of them.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that, I already did Halloween set up at my place,” Clint sighed.

“That’s nice but you’re not there right now so, grab a box, Barton,” You call back as you try to pin up a cobweb.

“You look like you’re struggling a bit, pancake,” Sam laughed and you whipped around to glare at him.

“Grab a box, Sam,” Wanda coaxed as she grabbed on herself, she mouthed an ‘I got him’ with a small eye roll as she pushed him out the room.

“Thank you!” you shout after them before going back to trying to figure out how to pin this up.

You decided to grab a stool from the kitchen island, as carefully as you could you wobbled to a standing position, your brow furrowed as you realized the stool itself a was a bit unsteady to stand on. You kept going, you had just hooked the cobweb onto the clear non-stick hook you had placed on the wall when the stool shifted and your body lurched.

“Ah!” you let out, sticking out your arms at an angle to catch your fall and minimize the damage, except you never hit the ground, instead someone lets out and “umph,” as they catch you.

Your eyes become locked on the vibrant blues of your savior, Steve. A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you look at him, he had caught you in the air and was now holding you bridal style.

You offer a shy smile, “thanks…”

Steve gives you an amused smile as a small chuckle slips past his lips, “No problem, doll.”

As Steve put you down, you look back towards the cobwebs and pout, when you fell you pulled the web off the hook once more. Steve must’ve followed your gaze because he was reaching up with his six foot something stature you hook the webs back on, a low laugh escaping him as he did so.

“You nearly give your self a concussion and you’re worried about the decorations,” he laughs as he turns back to you.

“I take my jobs seriously,” you defend, “and I would’ve been fine,” you negate.

“Sure,” he nods, causing you to purse your lips.

“I would’ve,” you repeated, “but thanks for the catch.”

“Anytime,” he nods and for a moment you both just stare at each other, you swear he was going to say something else, based on the look on his eyes and you really wanted to hear what he was going to say but then a shout from Tony interrupted you.

“Hey! This place is looking great! Remind me to give you a raise, (y/n),” he shouted as he came through the halls, Steve’s eyes scrunched closed as you both let out a sigh.

You recovered first as you plastered a smile to your face walking to meet Tony by the fridge.

“Thank, Stark,” you snort, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

By the time the week had ended Steve and yourself were growing more and more frustrated, each time you had a moment or tried to talk to each other the two of you were interrupted or called away. Peter, needed your opinion on whether his costume was nice enough for the party, Wanda wanted to know which shade of lipstick was better for her costume, Sam wanted to train some more, Bucky needed to let some aggression out after a bad traffic day (talk about road rage), and so many other occurrences, that by Friday you had spent maybe 5 minutes with Steve on your own.

As you were finishing getting ready, coating your lips with a vibrant red lip matte color there was a knock on your door, “just a moment,” you shouted as you rubbed your lips together, capped the lipstick and put it back where it had come from in one of your drawers.

You walked over to the door, your heels were sitting by your bed, your dress was on, clicking the panel you unlocked it so it could open and you saw Steve. He was dressed in a white dress shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his biceps, the halo headband was pushed into his blonde locks, he had on black slacks and black dress shoes.

You shook your head at him, “You could’ve at least gotten some wings,” you roll your eyes as you let him in.

“I think I’m okay, I’m wearing the headband,” he argues.

“Lame,” you shoot back as you drop to your bed and reach over to grab the red pumps that you’d be torturing yourself with tonight.

“At least I’m comfortable,” he shot back, looking at your heels.

“Haven’t you heard the expression beauty is pain?” you offer offhandedly, relishing in the moments while you sit.

“Whoever said that clearly hasn’t met you,” Steve smoothly responded causing you to blush, you decided to cover by moving to tie your hair up in a ponytail, you had flat ironed it so that the hair would fall straight. “I’m serious,” he added when you didn’t look over to him. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all week and each time I get the chance to something comes up and then I can’t say what I wanted to.”

“Which is?” you ask, as you fiddle with your headband, the one that had the devil horns on it, the one Steve had playfully put in your hair earlier that week.

“That spending the day with you was fantastic, that you are probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, and that I’d really like you to be my date tonight,” he smiled as he crouched down in front of you, wrapping his hands around yours.

A smile quirked at your lips, “I’ve been waiting all week for you to ask,” you muse.

Steve lets out a breath that turns into a chuckle, he grabs the headband from you and delicately slips it onto your head, so slowly as not to mess up your hair, and when he’s done one hand drops while the other leaves a soft caress on your cheek, he was much closer now.

“You look amazing,” he whispered.

You smile as he stands back up, offering you his arm. You grab your clutch and link your arm with his before the two of you walk to the elevator. When you join the party you notice a plentiful amount of people are already here. Immediately you get swept up by Wanda and Nat, Steve laughs as they steal you away from him.

You hang out with them, nursing your one to two drinks watching and laughing as they take shots. The buffet table looks great, especially with all the Halloween themed treats Tony had gotten catered, well, Pepper probably had made the calls. Halfway through the party Tony Stands up on the coffee table and cuts the music, causing everyone to look to him.

“Thank you for attending tonight, a big thanks to Pepper who sent out the invites and got the catering, and one other big thanks to that pretty lady in the red,”Tony pointed to you, “who was ironically and angel for setting up all the decorations on this floor,,” this gained many chuckles and a small snort from yourself, “and getting people to do so on the other floors os that Avengers Tower has been, what was the term you used, kid?” Tony looked back to Peter who had turned bright red, “Spookified,” Tony snapped as he recalled the term. “Enjoy the party!” he cheered taking another sip of his drink.

It was only when the Party was winding down that you really were able to regroup with Steve, you and he both had been pulled my numerous different people to talk to and share with. You had spotted him on the balcony, looking out at New York, he seemed to be alone.

You carefully joined him, avoiding any more conversations as you shut the door, immediately you shivered, it was a bit colder than you were expecting.

Steve turned when he heard the door, “hey,” he greeted, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hi,” you smile back as you step to stand beside him.

“Tony was right, you did an amazing job with the setup,” Steve complimented.

“Thanks, I had some pretty super help,” you joked.

“Oh! That was terrible,” he shook his head at your pun. You shivered a bit as another breeze blew by, this time he noticed. “We can go in if you’re cold,” he offered and you shook your head.

“No thank you, if we go back in we’re going to get sucked into a conversation or the drinking game Nat and Wanda want me to participate in that I’ve been avoiding. Also, I’d lose you in the crowd again, and you looked so peaceful out here,” you explain, your eyes were trained on the twinkling lights of the alive city that was around you.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he argued.

“A cold would be a relief from the heels,” you joke.

“Feet hurting?” he asked.

“Yeah, I haven’t had a chance to sit down yet,” you nod, you turn to him when you feel him tuck one of the loose flyaway hairs behind your ear.

It’s quite a bit longer before you feel him nudge your elbow, your arms had come up to the railing so you could lean against them, “have you eaten yet?”

“Not really, just snacked a bit on the stuff Pepper had catered,” you admit.

“How does a burger sound?” he asked.

“Heavenly,” you wink, tippytoeing in your heels to tap his halo.

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned, “how about we go find a burger?” he offered.

“Steve Rogers are you asking me to ditch our friend's party?” you ask with a faux voice.

“Yes, yes I am,” he affirmed with a big smile.

“Go this way, if we go back in they’ll see us,” you nod and he leads you across the balcony, your hand in his as he helps you navigate in your heels. Before you know it you’re walking down the block and straight into a small burger joint.

You two were by far considered to be dressy compared to the rest of the patrons but you noticed all the little kids who were still wearing what they had probably gone trick or treating in.

You two slipped into a booth near the back and after you had ordered you kicked your heels up and pulled your feet underneath you.

“Better?” he mused.

“Much,” you agreed.

While waiting for the food and while eating you exchanged stories from growing up before you both became highly trained “super” heroes. You got to really know Steve Rogers, and you were enraptured.

When it was time to go, you slipped your heels back on, Steve paid, he insisted. And you were walking hand in hand once again. You laced your fingers with his this time and he smiled down at you as the two of you walked back to the tower. By the time you got back your feet were once again hurting and so without warning, Steve swept you into his arms, you laughed as you laced your arms around his neck.

“My knight in shining armor,” you laughed as he walked down the hall towards your room.

“Glad to be of assistance, Ma’am,” he winked causing you to laugh some more.

When he carefully put you down by your door you leaned against him to slip the heels off your feet and then turned and entered the room, allowing him to follow you in.

“Are you going to go back to the party?” you asked him as you put the heels away.

“Maybe, they’re probably wondering where we went,” he nodded unsurely and you walked into the bathroom to retrieve a make-up wipe.

“Or, you could go change and we can watch a movie in here?” you offered.

As you wiped your face you thought about what you had just said, you didn’t want to go back to the party but you also wanted to spend some more time with Steve.

“I’ll be back in five, don’t start without me,” he decides, sending you a pointed look.

“No promises,” you giggle as you throw the used wipe in the trash.

“Oh, (y/n)?” Steve called, turning around and walking back towards you.

“Yeah what’s up?” you asked with a soft smile.

“I forgot something,” he mumbled, an arm going around your waist and another to your cheek as he bent down and placed a kiss on your lips, you were surprised at first but quickly leaned into it. This was Steve, he was probably one of your favorite people and someone you trusted completely, you wanted this and so did he.

When he pulled away he took in your slightly dazed look with a smirk, “Happy Halloween,” he stated as he pulled away to go change.

You laughed as you did the same when he returned you were wearing sweats and a tank top, your hair was in a messy bun at the top of your head and you were sitting in your bed, booting Netflix up. Happy Halloween indeed.

#steve rogers #steve #steven #rogers #steven rogers #steven grant rogers #x steve #x steve rogers #x captain america #captain #captain america #america #imagine #imagined #imagines #marvel #marvel imagines #cute #party #tony #tony stark #anthony stark #stark #pepper #pepper pots #pepper soon to be stark pots #scott lang #wanda #wanda maximoff #maximoff

[katamaran10]

THE CRONOGRAPH

On AO3 here

Summary: A slightly alternative telling in my AU of how things go after Will and Hannibal heal post-fall. Will takes charge and Hannibal has to deal with his newly realized murder husband’s determination to have his way in Spain. Character compliant but apparently not radiant enough. Probably the last piece I add to this fandom.

The Cronograph

 by Melusine10

PART ONE

“A Denial”

The only sign of Hannibal’s displeasure was a slight tick in his left eye.

Will sat in the shop’s foyer in an overstuffed armchair. It was seating undoubtedly placed there for impatient, antsy husbands like him. Iberian sunlight filtered through the large boutique window and it made his curls shine.

“The credit card,” Hannibal repeated.

Will pressed his lips together. He made no move to reach for his wallet. “I said,” he lowered his voice, “no.”

Hannibal plastered an affable half-smile on his face. “Forgive us, señor. Might we have just a moment to discuss the item?” The elderly shop owner nodded and disappeared into the store room, taking the tray displaying the vintage timepiece with him.

As soon as he was out of sight, Hannibal turned on his heel and his complacent mask evaporated. He wanted an explanation and he had no intention of waiting for it.

“I said we could look.” Will said. “You looked.”

“And now I wish to make a purchase. Give me the credit card. I won’t repeat myself again.”

“I should hope not,” Will shot back.

Hannibal searched his face, stunned to be defied. He quickly settled on a course of action. “Señor?” he called over his shoulder.

There was shuffling in the back and the man returned through a beaded partition. “Shall I fetch a box and bag?” he asked. He already had the sales book eagerly tucked under his arm.

“I believe we’ve decided to think on it. Such purchases should not be made in haste. I’m sure you will agree. Would you be so good as to hold the watch for us?”

The man obliged hesitantly, telling him he could only keep it off display for a week – and not a day more. Hannibal gave a curt bow and thanked him with flatteries that probably ensured he could get whatever he wanted in that store whenever he so chose, and probably at a slight discount. He then opened the shop door to usher Will out, his gentlemanly façade covering the seething rage roiling underneath.

Earlier that day, Hannibal had pointed out a café down a cobbled lane not far from the antique store. It had a view of the sea and was graced by a cool breeze that eased the summer heat. Had they not brought their quarrel along, it would have been a pleasant place to get a quick bite before the whole city shut down for the siesta hour.

Hannibal sipped his coffee in silence. Will perused the menu. The waitress returned and before he could say a word, Hannibal rattled off an order. Will set his menu card down slowly, realizing his input was neither wanted nor appreciated. He kept his mouth shut. The fact that his Spanish was far superior to Hannibal’s probably should not be flaunted at this stage in the argument. Hannibal botched several words and conjugations yet again, and the waitress was slightly confused before she parsed his meaning and scratched the order down on her notepad. How someone whose Italian was immaculate could not quickly pick up Spanish was beyond him.

Of all the things that had come to pass since they had met five years ago, the least of their problems was Hannibal’s crap español. His mother tongue was Baltic, after all, unrelated to any of the Latin romance languages. Will hadn’t learned much Lithuanian yet (his phrases were mostly confined to their bedroom) and it would be a cold day in Hell that he’d learn archaic Italian so he could read Dante to Hannibal after dinner. No, what fueled his anger was Hannibal’s unwavering pride and his imperious attitude.

The waitress looked expectantly at Will. Her eyes wandered over the tan skin of his chest peeking through the collar of his shirt. Will didn’t notice. He didn’t even know whose name was on the label when Hannibal had given it to him. He just wanted some god damned fried calamari and an ice cold beer, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen.

Will shook his head and declined to add anything. The waitress’ eyes drifted appreciatively over the obscene contours of his bare ankles, sockless in loafers. Hannibal cut her roving gaze short with a flick of the menu. “Gracias, señorita. That will be all.”

The food was predictably slow to arrive. Will avoided Hannibal’s stare and took a sudden interest in reading up on every football match reported in the daily newspaper “As”. He couldn’t give two flying fucks about how anyone was doing in La Liga, or the latest rankings in the English Premiere League, or any other sport for that matter. The only accompaniment to their deadly silence was the rustle of Will’s paper and a tinny radio from a window across the narrow street.

The meal arrived in a train of small plates. Will started scooping things out before Hannibal could begin to describe each dish. As he tucked into food, Hannibal told him about the particularities of the barbequed sardines he was shoveling into his mouth. He droned on about the cold pippirana salad and the origins of the porra antequerana set before them.

Will’s temper ratcheted up a notch with every bite and flourish of Hannibal’s hand. As if he hadn’t heard perfectly what had been ordered. As if he couldn’t determine his own preferences. As if he needed a history lesson every time he just wanted to fucking eat.

The two men were in a very dangerous state and it wasn’t even noon.

“How’s the 'tomato soupy' stuff here?” Will asked, letting a bit of the Louisiana drawl he hid so well slip out. “Looks good.” He was purposefully acting like the hick ignoramus Hannibal seemed to think he was. He pulled the bowl of porra across the table. The thick sauce was as red as blood. Hannibal narrowed his eyes at Will, but said nothing.

“Oh, so now it’s the silent treatment? Really? I would say I’m gutted to see you acting so childish, but in our case that metaphor strikes a little too close to home.” He chewed the dipped bread thoughtfully. “The porra antequerana is passable here,” he said in a perfect lilting accent, “but it needs more garlic, don’t you think?”

“You are an astonishing creature.”

Will sat back in his plastic wicker chair, gauging whether Hannibal might actually kill him for denying him something as stupid as a watch. He reached across the table and took his hand. “You need to exercise a little restraint. I don’t think that is too much to ask. You’ve ripped through nearly half a million dollars since we arrived in Europe.”

“Your point being?”

Will was speechless for a long moment. “I am trying to protect us,” he whispered. Even after surviving their injuries and escaping the country, he still felt like Jack Crawford or the whole of Interpol might pop out from around the corner. “Freddy Lounds made sure everyone found out that I filed divorce papers the same day I inherited your fortune. Murder Husbands indeed. If anybody at Quantico gets bored and decides to poke around in my bank records or if Freddy god damn Lounds somehow gets her sticky hands on them, they will immediately know something isn’t right. I have never spent money like this. I can’t even comprehend money like this!”

“We pay for almost everything in cash.”

“Yes! Massive sums of cash! Just like you did before. You think they’ll just shrug it off and say, ‘Welp, Graham sure is going wild in Europe!’ Your expensive tastes got you and me caught by Mason Verger. Your pattern was documented in your case files. Meditate on that for a minute.”

Will knew all this talk about finances infuriated Hannibal in part because it was simply not done among polite society. But that’s what married couples did and he was going to have to get used to it.

Hannibal touched the edges of his mouth with a cotton napkin. “There are hundreds of millions left and that is only the liquid assets. You haven’t even seen the jewelry collection Lady Murasaki’s bequeathed me. Her 19th century sets of Mikimoto pearls and any one of her Harry Winston rings alone would triple that amount overnight.” He haughtily pushed a stray bit of hair behind his ear. “I do understand, however, why you are so upset. Your youth was shadowed by grinding poverty, abandonment, and the rot of fetid bayous.”

“Takes one to know one,” he said through clenched teeth. Lost starving orphan, he wanted to say. Will would have kicked him over in his chair if they weren’t in public and then he probably would have done something terribly regrettable with his blunt dinner knife. Thank god they were in public.

This had gotten entirely out of hand. Why did everything have to elevate to crazed melodrama with Hannibal? They were both entirely cognizant that this was not a healthy or sane relationship, but they weren’t exactly great models for healthy practices and sanity themselves.

Yet neither could, or would, ever let go of the other. Never. Not during their worst days. Not when separated for years. Not even during a brutal eighty-nine foot drop into the Atlantic Ocean. Most thirsts rise and burn in demanding need, then fall away forgotten once sated. Between Hannibal and Will, that pressing desire and ever-rushing ache for more of each other could never be relieved. Obsession, addiction, passion, love…The words didn't matter. They had merged into a single organism that simply happened to live in two bodies. It made for a volatile combination but certainly kept things interesting, as today proved.

Hannibal leaned toward Will with a stern look. “Those scraping, hungry days of your childhood are in the past, dear boy. Look to the future. You are the Lecter family’s sole heir.” He crooked his head and paused to let his point sink in. “Act accordingly.'

PART TWO

“The Heir”

Eight months earlier…

After tirelessly searching the sea, the FBI and Coast Guard could not waste more resources to find a corpse. Jack Crawford, the longtime head of the Behavioral Science Unit, was forcibly retired for having set loose the most prolific serial killer of the modern age. Had Graham not pulled through, that would have been the third agent he had lost to Hannibal Lecter. His closest colleagues in the forensics lab, Price and Zeller, canceled the arrangements they had secretly been planning to celebrate Jack’s retirement later in the summer. Instead of a party, he was sent back to an empty home on a Friday, with no wife there to greet him. He had served his country with duty and honor for three decades. A part-time janitor pulled down his photographs from the FBI’s halls and dumped them into a file box. The executives upstairs wanted to erase any memory of their errors and insufficiencies.

Jack hadn’t been out of the bureau but a month when Hannibal Lecter was officially declared dead by the U.S government. He kicked in the screen of his own television when the report aired at six o’clock.

Miles away, in downtown Baltimore, Will was recuperating at the best research hospital in the city. He had awoken on a sand bar to the glare of flashlights and the shouts of EMTs. All he could remember was the loving look Hannibal had given him before Will threw them to their deaths. But he didn’t die. He was severely injured and almost all of it was his fault.

No one would talk to him about Hannibal. Had he be found? How badly was he hurt? Was he being treated in this hospital too? Was he arrested and in custody? Whose custody?

“Could someone please turn on the news!” he shouted in frustration. From his bed, there was not much he could do. He was tethered down with vines of IVs, a vile catheter, and plastered with heart monitor electrodes.

His primary nurse cracked the door one day. “You okay for a few visitors?” Hope blossomed in his chest for the first time in a month. She let in a man and woman clad in expensive wool suits. Will had never seen them before in his life. They sat down at the tiny table in the room without his invitation. Without even greeting him. He pulled himself upright, as far as his broken ribs would allow. “Well hello. Make yourselves comfortable,” he said. “Who the hell are you, by the way?”

Nurse Lisa had been so loyal and protective, running off psychiatrists hungry for fame and tabloid hounds hoping for an exclusive interview with him. She had even socked a paparazzo in the eye when he tried to break into his room to get a shot of him in his hospital gown mottled in purple and black bruises. Will could not fathom why she had let these two stooges into his private space.

The two visitors gave their names as if he should already know who they were. They shuffled through their sleek leather briefcases and pulled out a pile of papers. It took a moment for the woman to find the correct page.

“We apologize for bothering you during your convalescence, however it took quite a bit of convincing to get the FBI release the name of your hospital and locate you. We’ve tried numerous times to contact you by phone.”

Will clenched his eyes and hit the button for his pain medication. “My cell phone is at the bottom of the ocean after I was attacked by a serial killer and chucked off a cliff, in case you aren’t aware of why I am here.” The two looked each other. Clearly they weren’t familiar with Will’s particular brand of acerbic snappishness.

“Mr. Graham,” the man said. They both had overly sculpted helmets of hair that didn’t move. Will disliked them immediately. There was not a hint of sincerity radiating off of either of them. Lawyers, he realized. These were lawyers. “We have been apprised of the situation and everyone at the firm offers their deepest sympathies, truly.”

“My Dad died?” he cried.

“Ah, no, Mr. Graham. As far as we know he is fine.” Will flopped back in relief.

Nothing – absolutely nothing - could have prepared him for what she said next.

“We are here today because Count Hannibal Lecter made revisions to his will before his passing. We know you had a-” she searched for a diplomatic phrase “- a close relationship. We are so sorry for your loss.”

Time slowed to a creep. The title of nobility did not even register with him. All he heard was that Hannibal was dead and the syllables of his name lingered in the air like dust. A scream was caught in his throat. Will pitched over the side of the bed and vomited repeatedly.  

“Oh dear. Are you okay? Should I call the nurse?” Will motioned for her to continue. He was in shock.

The rest of the meeting felt like a terrible nightmare, far worse than any of his blood-soaked fever dreams. Surely he would wake up. Surely.

The lawyers kept saying Hannibal's beautiful name as they read through the legal documents. Will stretched and flailed to get his oxygen mask. He thought he was going to pass out.

“It’s quite simple,” the woman said. “Just sign here and we will take care of the rest - no fee, of course. We would recommend moving most of Count Lecter’s American holdings into the Cayman Island bank account he kept for tax purposes.” She held out a paper and Will shakily took the pen she offered.

He was desperate to get them to stop talking about Hannibal. He couldn’t abide the sound of those words coming out of these horrid people’s mouths. If they didn’t get out of his room immediately he was giving very serious thought of beating the hell out of them. When they finally took the hint Will smashed the call button for his nurse about twenty times too many.

She came in and saw the vomit on the floor and how badly he was shaking. “Oh my! What happened?"

His teeth were chattering so hard he could barely get out the words. “Sedate me.”

“Sugar, I’ll go get a doctor.”

“Sedate me, Lisa. Sedate me right now.” She glanced up at his heart rate monitor and his numbers were dangerously high.

She came back with a syringe and injected it into his IV port. He was out like a light in 10 seconds. Fussing with his wires and taking his temperature, she tucked him in and turned out the light.

<>

What transpired that day did not hit him until much, much later - and it would hit him hard.

Will had finally been released from the hospital and was searching online for an apartment that wasn’t completely shitty. The life he had tried to make with Molly in Maine was sadly done. Will buried the regret with bourbon. His Wolf Trap home had long been sold away and there was only so much he could take of his run-down motel room with paper-thin walls.

When the sedatives had worn off later on that ill-fated day, he called Molly immediately. “Hannibal died in the fall,” he choked out. “He left his entire estate to me.” The line was silent on the other end. He softly asked if they should divorce. She quickly agreed, now knowing there was a lotmore about Will’s association with Hannibal Lecter that he hadn’t told her.

“We used to work together,” he had told her. “Then I realized he was a serial killer and after a lot of hassle trying to catch him, I finally got him locked up where he deserves to be.” He shrugged, as if there was no more to say.

Will's excuse made zero sense when Hannibal sent a serial killer to take out Will’s new family – just her and her son. Then after Will’s accident, she got smart and started researching whatever she could find about the two online. There was a lot of trash to wade through, but a clearer picture started to form in her head. Will had remained friends with Hannibal long after he publically accused him of being a serial killer – and turned out to be absolutely right. They had been close. Very close. So close there was a lot of speculation that they had been lovers. In all the crime scene photos she found in old newspapers, they were always standing nearly shoulder to shoulder while everyone else did their jobs in the background.

Will vaguely mentioned going to Europe once in passing. He failed to mention it was to chase after Hannibal even though he had recently gutted him and killed a girl in a blowout fight where two other people were severely injured. Even more outrageous to learn was that they both had assumed custody rights over her. Like fathers. Who runs after a man who could do that? The fact that Will never let her touch the scar across his stomach in bed now seemed a lot less like not wanting her to focus on his body’s jagged imperfections and a whole lot more like he was protective of it. Like it wasn’t hers to touch.

Now hearing Will sob the news to her on the phone, Molly didn’t need to know any more. Nobody left their entire fortune to a man if he did not love him in some way or another.

After he hung up, Will asked Nurse Lisa if she could explain how to file the necessary paperwork to initiate divorce proceedings. She had been through it before and knew the drill.

“I’ll do you one better since you’ve been such a sweet patient. I’ll print the forms out, you can sign them, and I'll fax them over to the court clerk right now.”

The court hearing was blessedly quick and amicable. That a divorce should be easier than finding decent housing came as a surprise. But Will knew there shouldn't be anything surprising about how he'd let his life go horribly awry.

From the moment Hannibal had kneeled in surrender on Will’s driveway, snow glittering in his sleek hair, the two men already understood how they had just played their chess pieces. They were at a stalemate and the only one who could make the next move was Will. It was precisely why he refused to visit him during his incarceration. It was why Will hid Hannibal’s letters from his wife and cried in front of the hearth fire late at night and then burned them, never to send a reply. Will avoided the inevitable for three years, desperate to create a normalcy he could never achieve with so many monsters hidden within him. He truly didn’t know quite what would happen if he walked back into that Baltimore sanatorium. But Hannibal knew. He had bet everything on it. He believed Will had greatness within him - the sort of greatness only Hannibal and he could understand.

The guard pulled open the heavy mahogany door into Hannibal’s jail cell and Will’s throat went dry. Simply seeing him confined as a caged beast allowed the repressed murder inside him to the surface – the desire to look at death, to inhabit it through others' eyes, to commit it inside his incredible imagination. Hannibal turned and looked through the glass partition and saw straight through Will’s farcical life. Within minutes he pulled him apart, dissecting the lies Will had been telling himself. Then, with the slightest ribbon of a smile, Hannibal silently reminded Will that he was the only one who could put him back together.

If Will had been undecided before about whose side he was on, that Devil’s smile settled it the matter. He helped Hannibal escape. But disaster upon disaster followed subsequently. After their kill, their fall, losing Hannibal to the sea, his hospitalization, the divorce, after all of it, Will just wanted some peace and quiet. He composed an email inquiring about a studio apartment in a semi-dodgy part of town with tragic brown carpeting, but it was near a nice park for the dogs. The only thing he had asked of Molly was to have Buster and Winston back. He stopped typing mid-sentence. A new email popped up in his inbox.

Dear Mr. Graham:

While the paperwork has all been filed on your behalf and all the titles and land grants have been changed into your name, there is still the matter of transferring the numerous keys and bank access codes to you. Please inform us when you could stop by the firm at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Sheridan and Cooper LLP

Will stumbled back from his computer and covered his mouth.

The sudden reminder was almost too much to bear. How he had managed to lock this in the basement of his memory palace for so long was a stunning psychological feat.

Hannibal had changed his will and left absolutely everything – even his castle and ancestral lands in Lithuania – to him. Will didn’t need a crummy apartment in a rough neighborhood. He needed to come to terms with a reality that was surreal. He now owned extravagant properties across the globe. The idea of moving into Hannibal’s Baltimore home was out of the question. He couldn't bear being that close to their shared memories. But there were other secret safe houses hidden behind layers of shell corporations and offshore banks. There was a grand pied-a-terre apartment in Paris. A villa in Tuscany. A stunning Meiji-era country home tucked in the Japanese mountains of Hokkaido.

Then there was the money. There was so, so much money. Will did not want to begin contemplating what absurd contents sat inside the many safety deposit boxes sprinkled at various banks. He had no idea what to do or where to go. He deleted the email for the apartment and paid another month for the motel, suspended in state of inertia. He had vainly hoped the heavy medications he needed for his injuries would dampen the heart-rending pain of this tragic gain from the loss of his greatest love and friend. They could not. Nothing could.

So, it was a hell of a surprise when Hannibal showed up one night, very much alive.

“You really should not mix those pills with alcohol, Will.”

Will’s eyes were wide as saucers and his tumbler of bourbon slipped from his hand and crashed on the floor. Hannibal had survived and was standing at the doorstep of his crappy motel.

PART THREE

In the café in Spain, Hannibal laid down his fork and knife, his appetite suddenly gone. His middle finger lingered over the tang of the knife blade, toggling it slowly on the placemat.

Though Will had just been mulling on a similar line of thought, he spoke up. “Please stop considering stabbing me with cheap cutlery and listen to what I am saying. Just wait until we get to Switzerland. I will route anything and everything you want to whatever account suits you and you can buy every Patek Phillipe watch ever made.”

“Tell me. How did it make you feel to deny me?”

Will ran a hand down his face. “I am only asking you for a little prudent patience.”

“Which thrilled you more? Wielding this middling power over me in front of that ancient clerk or knowing that in refusing, you were withholding my own birthright?”

“Your birthright is not a €30,000 chronograph!” Will hissed and slammed a fist on the table. Other patrons began to cut their eyes and whisper. Will looked up at the fluttering café canopy and breathed deeply, praying for strength. “Nothing we own is more precious than our freedom. Nothing is more precious to me than us. You’d risk it all for a little bling?”

“I wonder whether you experienced thoughts of doubt and hesitation when you bought your custom sailboat? It was quite the extravagance for a man who wears threadbare t-shirts.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Will huffed an incredulous laugh. “I suppose not. What ocean was I crossing? Where was I headed? Who was I trying to find?”

Hannibal looked past him to the waitress bending over, her skirt slightly too short. She was serving a table with a pitcher of the abominable cocktail called calimocho. Cheap wine and cola. Mixed. He shivered and had to look away.

“For your information,” Will spat, “I rigged and outfitted the Nola myself. I scraped and sanded and painted it every day for more than six months after you ran off to Italy to play curator and…whatever you were doing with Bedelia. If your refined senses approve of the Nola’s aesthetics, it isn’t because I bought it with my spotty consulting checks and measly teaching salary. It is beautiful because I crafted it with sweat and tools and time and skill.”

People were watching them now. This was exactly the sort of thing that would get Hannibal identified and caught.

Hannibal narrowed his incarnadine eyes and set his napkin on the tabletop. “I believe I shall head back to the hotel. The heat seems to be getting to me.” He rose and pulled out his money clip and considered the thick bundle of cash for a moment. Then he tossed it on the table at Will. Will’s jaw fell wide that he would do something so astonishingly rude. “I’d be obliged if you would settle the bill with when you are done.” He ducked under the scalloped lip of the restaurant’s awning and sauntered off down the street.

Will swore and hung his head in his hands.

Behind closed eyes, his imagination took over. He couldn’t stop it. He envisioned the nightmare that might await him at the hotel. The pale crème walls would be blood splattered, and not by the fine mist of cast-off which comes from a knife. No. These would be thick, gushing, arterial sprays erupting from his body. His bowels would be hanging from the ceiling fan, twisting like gory party streamers. There would be a hole where his heart was once seated and something greasy and gauche would be replaced inside to insure the insult was complete. He knew too well what a betrayal to Hannibal cost. Yet even thinking on this scene, he was fairly sure that Hannibal knew now to expect the exact same sort of reckoning from him.

The sound of water refilling his glass drew him out of his morbid thoughts.

“Honey?” said the waitress. “I don’t know what the problem is, but there’s not much a nice, heavy dinner and a good blowjob can’t fix.” She winked at him.

“My husband’s idea of a big dinner is more complicated than most.”

“He’s a fussy eater?”

Will grasped the arms of his chair and laughed ironically. “You have no idea.” He paid his bill and headed back up the hill to the antique shop, praying the man hadn’t closed it yet.

<>

Will unlocked the door to find their rented flat plunged in darkness. The heavy gold damask curtains had been drawn shut, blotting out the living room’s spectacular harbor view. Will slipped his shoes off and set the keys in the dish by the door. He put Hannibal’s money clip there as well.

From the bathroom he heard a slosh followed by the slow gurgling hiccups of the tub draining. Will took a seat in a chair with a direct line of sight to the bathroom door. Minutes dragged by as he waited. Hannibal emerged in a robe and glanced at the large bouquet of flowers laying across Will’s lap. He turned haughtily and dawdled, fussing with his clothes in the armoire and disappearing again to the far side of the bedroom. He must have been satisfied with the time he kept Will waiting, because he finally came into the parlor.

“I am sorry I upset you,” Will said. He held out the bouquet and Hannibal took it.

A small frown tugged at one corner of his mouth. “These are not from Astrid’s flower cart.”

Again Will needed to close his eyes and breathe deeply. “No. She was sold out and had already gone home. We’ll buy twice from her next time.” If his words placated Hannibal, he did not show it. He abandoned the bouquet on a walnut side table, still in its wrappings.

“Would you mind arranging them for us?”

Hannibal didn’t respond. He searched through the papers and notebooks on his desk, as if looking for something. As if Hannibal ever misplaced anything. The charade was ridiculous.

Apparently not locating whatever he was trying to ‘find’, Hannibal took the flowers to the sink in the kitchen. He slipped off the packaging and paused momentarily. Shaking his head, he set the small wrapped box tucked inside the bouquet on the counter and kept working, trimming the stems of the star lilies and violets at perfect angles.

“You aren’t going to open it?” Will asked.

“I have an idea of what is inside.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Drop the act and talk to me.”

Hannibal gritted his teeth. “I abhor it when you swear at me.”

“I know. But it does tend to get your attention. Do I have it now?”

“Apparently so.”

“When do I get my apology? You’ve shut me out over something trivial and it is intolerable.”

“If the point of your display earlier was to avoid an expense that might alert the authorities as you so claimed, your actions now would suggest otherwise.”

Will got up and wended his arms around Hannibal’s torso and pressed his face between his sculpted shoulder blades and sighed. Hannibal continued snipping at the flowers in the sink. “My signatures on your accounts are simply a formality that you yourself created as a contingency plan.”

“A plan in the event that you uneventfully killed me in my prime, say, by tossing us off a ledge and drowning me in the ocean. I’d hoped at least the guilt of receiving my wealth would haunt you long after I was gone.”

Will rolled his eyes. “You thought no such thing. You did it because you’ve loved me since the day you met me. Once we are able to shift the funds around under your aliases, this is not going to be an issue. I’m only trying to keep the FBI, Interpol, and every bounty hunter watching the Most Wanted list off your trail and not get myself incarcerated as well for aiding and abetting the most stubborn husband that ever lived. Please, Hannibal. I would never deny you anything just to be petty.”

Hannibal remained stiff, but he set the scissors down, which boded well for how this tiff would play out. Will would be seriously pissed if he got stabbed in a kitchen again.

Hannibal was not so easily mollified. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. How did it make you feel when you rejected my request to purchase something?”

“How did it make you feel?” Will retorted, hating when he resorted to psychology tricks.

He did not hesitate. “It was disorienting. Unfamiliar. I am rarely told ‘no’. You may have denied me yourself in the past, but you have been nothing but an indulgent partner since overcoming that particular hurdle. It helps that we are perhaps the wealthiest renegades in the world, so let us not squabble over vulgar financial matters. It is simply a strange and unexpected turn of events to now rely so greatly upon you.” Hannibal gave a ghost of a smile.

Will tried to decipher the human hieroglyph standing before him. “How would you prefer I handle this kind of thing in the future? he asked. “Assuming, of course, that you’re not going to paint this place red with my guts tonight.” Will left the counter for the large living room window and pushed the thick curtains aside.

“You were correct to intervene as you did.”

“Yes, but as usual, you still got exactly what you wanted.”

Hannibal placed the flowers in a vase and redid most of the greenery that came with it. He had chucked the baby’s breath into the trashcan the instant he saw it. “I hope you will continue to serve our best interests so diligently, Will.” He paused, thinking. “Most casual observers would assume that I was the ‘sugar daddy’ in this relationship.”

Will balked at his words. “Why…would…oh...”

“I take it you had not considered how our age difference might be perceived.”

Will laughed in embarrassment. “No, I hadn’t. I never think about it. And Hannibal?” He turned from the window and was wreathed in the violet, oranges, and pinks of the setting sun. “I never will.”

The radiant man had fully come into his own. The sight of his dear Will framed more beautifully than a Botticelli painting left him breathless. Will’s words left him stunned. He still could not predict him. “I am sorry for my behavior,” he said at last. Apologies were not common or easy for Hannibal.

Will nodded. “Now open your gift.” Hannibal went to the counter and pulled the black ribbon off the white box. He smiled when he saw what lay inside.

“There’s an inscription.”

He flipped the watch over.

For the man I will love until the end of time.

Hannibal’s eyes misted up. “I will cherish it always.” He hugged Will and kissed him hotly, tears now streaming down his face. “I love you, my darling.”

Will ran a hand over his cheek. “But if you don’t like it I can always get it changed to read “For my Sugar Daddy, forever.”

Hannibal burst out laughing and hid his face behind his hands, shaking his head. “My astonishing, rude boy. I think I’ll keep it as it is. Thank you.”

Finally they were smiling in their knowing, secretive way. They turned to watch the sun sink slowly into the sea, hand in hand. Only now, one of those wrists bore a very, very nice chronograph.     

#hannigram #hannibal fanfiction #will graham #hannibal lecter

[quieteating]

New Post has been published on Quieteating

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/w7ZAZJ

Normah's Cafe

One thing I love about London is that there is always something new to find.  Sometimes, in the most unlikely of places.

I am referring here to food of course.  The arts often seem to be too far above my head.  As my friends like to say, perhaps this is because I seem to lack culture.  I don’t know my Dvořák from my Tchaikovsky or my Monets from my Pissarros.  Yet, putting such meaningless abuse to one side, I like to style myself as knowing more than the common man about food (or at least pretending to).

This is the rather underwhelming entrance to the shopping centre where Normah Cafe is located.

This sign is not that I am soon to open my own pawn business but rather to highlight the difficulty of finding Normah’s Cafe.  See if you can see that little sign pointing the way.  I missed it and this is a retrospective photo as I left, to help signpost the way to others.  Normah’s Cafe is hidden in the back of Queensway Market.

Teh tarik.  When we managed to find the cafe, I was treated to a show of someone in the back making teh tarik in the traditional way.  Creating a foamy drink by pouring the liquid through metres of air.  Airy and tasty.  Takes particular skill if you don’t want to scald yourself, mess up the floor or otherwise boil your customers as other places have been known to do to me.

Ice milo.  Deep chocolate taste just like I remember from my youth.  A perfect drink before heading off to play ball and in this case before it was time to eat.

Rice with fried shallots and spring onions.

Asam pedas.  Unusually for food these days which seems to be moving the way of divorcing providence from what you eat, this dish is served with the whole fish, bones, flesh and head and all.  Breaking away from the neatly cut and arranged fillets that can be found elsewhere (are you sure that is actually fish?) has its benefits.  There is a sweetness and depth of flavour twitching right there in front of you.  Deep tomato, succulent flesh and a great gravy to drown my rice in, this was a pleasant surprise.  If you are disturbed by the head, that’s what tissue is for.

Beef rendang with roti prata.  I have had experience of quite a few pratas in my time in London.  I used to think that Roti King was the best.  Yet, now it has competition in town.  The roti was crispy, airy and crunchy.  The way that I remember it is supposed to be back in Malaysia.  Just the roti would have been enough to make me a happy man.  However, that would be ignoring the rendang.  

This is the best beef rendang I have had in London.

With such intensity of flavour coming from a mixture of spices and coconut (painstakingly smashed in the back room, try opening a coconut yourself and you will know) cooked with succulent beef, when I bit into this, I was not transported to Malaysia but rather blinded by a glimpse of foodie paradise.  Well, for a second at least.

Mee goreng mamak.  An amalgamation of soft prawn, crunchy shallots, crispy egg and squishy noodles creating a flavour from halfway around the world.  Delicious but paled among the company, especially the beefiness of the rendang.  

Fried chicken.  I last ate KFC in an airport in Peru where I was subject to an enforced stay to avoid missing my flight.  After an exhaustive check of the various options, we ended up opting for KFC.  This chicken could tell a thing to its brethren half way around the world.  This is how you fry chicken.  A delightfully crunchy crust holding in so much juicy meat.

Often (sometimes in my case) it is worth digging around London in the most unlikely of places.  Sometimes, you might just find a diamond in the rough.  Or perhaps I should say, the coconut in the dessert.  

  A quiet eating 8.5/10.

We were invited to review.  Estimated costs of a main and drink is GBP10 excluding service.

  Normah’s Cafe

23-25 Queensway Market, London W2 4QJ

#asam pedas #fried chicken #malaysian #mee goring #milo #normah #prata #rendang #teh tarik

[msbrightside85]

Food glorious food

So you’re probably wondering the same as me ... how has it taken me so long to write about food? Probably because it’s a fairly daunting subject with it being so broad. But i have decided it’s about time I did ...

From the top (clockwise): Bacon fried rice, Beef noodle soup, Korean style deep fried chicken with rice cakes, Chinese style cheese steak sandwich, Chicken noodle soup, Range of hot pot skewers, (middle): Vegetable noodles.

So as I have already mentioned, I was very happy to discover that mango, pork and avocado are greatly loved over here and easily accessible (although avos can be a tad pricey). Unfortunately one of the most elusive food items also turns out to be one of my favourites … cheese. But thankfully, since my original dismay (and what felt like a fairly long amount of time) at the lack of cheesey options here, I have been shown two supermarkets that have ACTUAL cheese counters. I cannot tell you how happy I was. It was perhaps a little OTT looking back but I couldn't help myself. 

The widespread Chinese offering of cheese is generally of the plastic variety. Yup. Cheese slices. I can hear mum saying 'that's not real cheese' and she would be right but that is par for the course here. Plastic cheese in a range of varieties. Emmental, Gouda, Edam. All plastic. Now don’t get me wrong I do believe there is a place for cheese slices in this world (sorry mum), they’re perfect in burgers at a BBQ and they make an excellent addition to a midnight fridge tapas session (I say mournfully, as these ‘sessions’ are basically non existent since getting a flat mate and not being able to get coleslaw here - a fridge tapas staple food in my mind) but when you don’t have the real thing cheese slices are certainly not a suitable substitute. Although in saying that they have found their way into our home inside Caitlin’s grilled cheese sandwiches! Anyway I digress ... so after being shown where I can buy the real stuff (or as real as I’m gonna get) I am pleased to report I have bought both mozzarella (not the white buffalo kind the harder stuff but still good) and cheddar (or something resembling cheddar) so I am sated. For now. Until my next craving. Dammit I’m thinking about coleslaw now ...

A question that I've been getting a lot from England is what food do you miss? The answer? Let me be perfectly honest … there's not a lot that you can't get hold of out here. Yes, some things might be a little more expensive because it's been imported but most things are available from somewhere, especially in a city the size of Suzhou. So I'm learning to try and reduce my initial hysteria at not having something and ask around. Generally there's someone or somewhere that can help with the homely cravings. I even found a bag of pre-made gravy the other day which is DEFINITELY something I didn’t expect to find - so that’s me sorted for winter! Buuuuut in saying that, don't take this to mean that I want you to stop trying to send me the odd pork pie or two in the post … because pork pies are most certainly on the unattainable list. Although I have heard about an English restaurant which I believe may make their own … must remember to look into that.

Talking of pork pies, I asked one of my classes of older kids at school which topics interested them most about England and one of them said food. So I put some information together about fish and chips, bangers and mash and other foods that are quintessentially English, including pork pie. Surprisingly enough it was pork pie that got the biggest reaction, they thought it sounded disgusting! Which I thought was pretty rich considering some of the foods that are available here in China. I can imagine most of you would take pork pie any day. I mean here they have stinky tofu (and man it really does …) not forgetting frog which I have already mentioned and of course chicken feet …

Yeah ... this is definitely my biggest Chinese culinary challenge to date and to say I ate it isn't strictly true. I nibbled at it and then couldn't go any further. Why? It just looked too much like a human hand!!! It started freaking me out a bit to be honest. This one was boiled but I hear the fried ones are a little better to handle so who knows maybe I could be converted. Maybe.

All in all (and chicken feet aside) it's hard to miss something when you have such a fabulous range of food to choose from and I'm not just talking about Chinese food. We have a great pizza place with a traditional stone oven where the beer is cheaper than the soft drinks, there is a great Vietnamese place where I had the yummiest beef pho and Korean food aplenty. There is a fantastic range of dumplings that come in all shapes and sizes and come with a range of fillings although pork is general the favourite (which always pleases me!).

There's an abundance of bakeries serving the best cream buns and desserts, there's a cool Japanese place that has the best curried rice and a lettuce they call ice plant which is unlike anything I’ve ever tried. BBQ or shaokao (pronounced show-cow but rhyme the first part with cow) is everywhere here and tastes amazing! Although if you’re not a fan of spice then you need to know how to communicate this in Chinese because their not very spicy can arrive and be pretty damned spicy!

There's also a traditional dish here called hot pot. Hot pot quite simply is a pot of boiling water in the middle of the table (it can be flavoured to your preference} and you order different raw ingredients to throw in it! Then once it’s cooked you get (try to get) the food out with your chop sticks. The local girls I go out with usually feel sorry for me and end up scooping morsels of food out and throwing them into my bowl, which I am eternally grateful for :)

But going back to home comforts, I've had a Chinese version of a bacon and tomato sarnie, which uses the white fluffy dumpling stuff instead of a breadcake and a few weeks ago I had amazing eggs benedict with smoked salmon. I was a very happy bunny that day I can tell you. It was exactly what I needed. 

So all in all it really doesn't leave much room for missing things, especially when you enjoy food as much as I do. But it’s always good to have a bank of places you can go to when you’re having a bad china day or you’re missing home. Like I say there’s a place called Ann's that I believe makes their own pork pies, they also serve afternoon tea and do roast dinner BUT I've sworn to myself that I will only go there when I'm really craving something that is unattainable elsewhere else. I've been told we may be going there for our work’s Christmas meal so I wonder if I can hold out until December before going or whether i’ll crack before then. Tune in next time to find out. TTFN. Rachael.

#food #cheese #pork #avocado #mango #dumplings #hotpot #porkpie #bacon #rice #noodles #eggsbenedict #bbq #shaokao #creambuns #suzhou #china #chickenfeet #coleslaw #cravings #home #teaching #english #abroad #tefl

[beccas-a-cipher]

Karaoke

Originally posted: 20 May, 2018

Oh my gosh, was this really the first one?! I think about this oneshot way too often with the season two drama... songs used make me SAD now... I forgot that this was really the very first oneshot I ever posted for Magiclicas XD

"S-So, where do you want to go?" Kai asked nervously to his Magiclica friend (crush) over the phone. 

"I have someplace in mind. Meet you outside the cafe at seven?" Quinston's smooth accent replied.

"Yeah, sure. See you," Kai said as he hung up the phone. As soon as he did, he immediately started a nervous giggle. "Yes!"

"You alright in there, Kai?" Haiden knocked on Kai's door. He jumped and nearly fell off his bed, knocking a cup of water on his nightstand over. 

"Y-Yeah! I-I'm good!" Kai called. Haiden audibly grunted. 

"Okay..." The aura manipulator could hear Haiden's footsteps fade away, and a giddy smile snuck onto his face. 

"Ugh, I need to stop feeling so happy around him..." Kai whispered to himself, although he knew that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. It was six-thirty in the evening and Quinston said to meet at the cafe they usually met at seven, so Kai slipped on his hoodie and attempted to be stealthy and sneak out of the Spero's hideout without being questioned. 

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen.

"Kai! Where are you going?" Kagae called cheerfully. Kai immediately tensed. 

"O-Oh, just, uh, to go get some food... Maybe get some fresh air...? Yeah," he answered awkwardly. By this time most of the Spero were used to Kai's sudden nervousness, so Kagae shrugged and let it slide. 

"Okay. See you later then!" She left Kai alone. He speed-walked out of the hideout and jogged to the cafe that wasn't too far from his headquarters. Outside was a familiar, chill brunette in a white beanie and green-and-white sweater.

"Kai!" Quinston waved and immediately smiled.

It's like his smile just lit up the sun... Kai tried to shove that thought to the back of his mind. 

"Hai Quinston," Kai glanced at the clock that was in view of the window of the cafe. "It's only just now seven! Why are you here before me?" The tan boy asked.

The Magiclica shrugged. "Got tired of waiting at my house so I thought I'd come here and be early. Ready to get going?" Quinston held his arm out to Kai. 

Kai ducked his head to avoid laughing. "Oh so we're going somewhere formal now, are we? I should have dressed better!" 

Quinston's laugh was strangely like music. "Ha! Oh come on, I would have told you if you needed to dress differently. Besides, do I look dressed for something formal?" He gestured to his sweater and (adorable) tousled hair covered by the beanie. 

Kai rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't think I even own anything to really be considered 'formal' so thank goodness for that!" 

He linked his arm through the other boy's and Quinston started leading them somewhere. They laughed and joked for a while before a portal suddenly appeared right in front of them. They walked right through it before Kai could react, and suddenly they were outside a building on a different street. 

"What the foop?!" He questioned his reality once more. Quinston had that stupid, confident smirk on his face, giving away that it was him who created the portal. "What do you expect? I am Quinston O'Kouzlo, two-time youngest winner of TMS," He did a small pretend hair flip.

Kai snorted. "Okay one, never do that again. And two, no need to brag! You're making me feel even less worthy to be in your presence!" he complained almost-jokingly.

Quinston's bright green eyes softened. "Oh, sorry." They didn't say anything for a moment. "Well, uh, want to go in?" Quinston suggested. 

"Where even are we?" Kai asked, puzzled. 

The green-eyed boy's iconic, confident smirk returned. "I thought we might enjoy some good Shawn Mendes at the karaoke bar?" The Spero nearly squealed.

"What are we waiting for?!" Kai practically dragged Quinston inside, despite that he was willingly following along as well.

Inside were lots of people (mainly adults but that's not the point) laughing and chatting or nursing most-likely alcoholic drinks. There was a small area cleared in the center of the room along with a karaoke machine. 

"So, want to go up there and hit it?" Quinston asked. Kai halted with a look of sheer terror on his face. 

"Uh, no. Have I ever told you I am the worst at singing?" Kai stated immediately. 

Quinston frowned. "Oh, how bad can you be?"

"Really bad."

The Magiclica rolled his eyes but complied. "Fine. Wait here then, or find a place to sit. I'll go get us some drinks."

"Nothing alcoholic!" Kai called jokingly.

Quinston came back a few minutes later with two glasses that looked to be Pepsi, or Coke, or Dr. Pepper. They all look the same and tasted basically the same, so who knows which it really was. "Geez! You don't have to remind me of no alcohol! My grandparents would literally kill me if I were to actually drink. Not to mention grounded and banned from coming here ever again." he sighed.

"Well wouldn't that be a shame!" Kai was starting to loosen up with his (boy)friend's casualness.

Quinston nodded. "It truly would. No more bad karaoke to make fun of or cheap soda with friends!" 

Speaking of which, someone was walking up to the karaoke machine and put a coin in, selecting a song before the background music came on a few seconds later. 

"Ugh, I really want to go sing. I may not be Melissa but you can never say no to Shawn Mendes!" Quinston complained more to himself than anyone. Kai felt bad for keeping Quinston from doing what he wanted. 

"I mean, you can go up there. I just don't want to make everyone deaf..." the not-Spero trailed off. Quinston said nothing as he turned to watch the man do his song while his other friends were cheering obnoxiously loud. Once he was done the green-eyed boy got up and marched over to the music machine, put in a coin, and took a moment to scroll through the song options before finding one. Immediately the music started playing, but before Quinston started singing he said something.

"This goes out to my friend I'm with tonight, you know who you are. Just saying, I really missed this." The microphone made his voice loud and give it slight noise. 

Immediately Kai felt his face burn. Darn you, you stupid hot Magiclica with enough confidence to do something stupid like this... 

Kai's face immediately turned even redder as soon as he recognized the song that O'kouzlo was singing. 

Oh my GOODNESS... 

Quinston was rocking out to “Stitches,” hitting every queue perfectly. It was the mark of a true Shawn Mendes lover, and despite Kai's embarrassment, he was secretly singing along in his mind. Don't ever tell Quinston that Kai was actually enjoying this, though!

Quinston finished the song, getting a small round of applause from those listening. He walked back over to their table and sat down before immediately getting a chuckle out of Kai's shook-fried tomato face. "I hate you," is all the blue-eyed boy said.

Quinston smirked and rolled his eyes. "You know you love me,"

Kai basically spat out his drink. "I- I- WHAT?! N-No! Quinston!" he hissed, knowing his face was redder still if even possible with his dark skin.

O'kouzlo only watched with his stupid iconic smirk as his companion freaked out. 

"Want to go sing now? I'll go with you so we can both make fools of ourselves." Quinston offered. The fried tomato that is Kai groaned. 

"Why are you so obsessed with getting me to sing all of a sudden?"

"Because now I'm curious to see if you're really as bad as you're making yourself out to be."

Kai groaned again. "You know what fine! I'll show you I'm really that bad, and then you'll regret ever meeting me!"

Quinston chuckled. "I find that hard to believe. I don't think I could ever truly regret meeting you, Kai." His cheeks were dusted in the faintest pink in the dim bar's lighting. 

The not-Spero led the way back to the karaoke machine, where Quinston put in another coin and the choice of songs appeared. 

"They have a lot of Shawn Mendes to choose from..." Kai mumbled in serious thought. 

"I mean, it doesn't have to be Shawn Mendes, does it?" Quinston offered with a shrug.

Kai turned with an emotionless look on his face. "It always has to be Shawn Mendes." he said in a dead serious tone. Quinston raised his hands in a surrender gesture before Kai looked back at the screen and selected a song. “There’s Nothing Holding Me Back” by, of course, Shawn Mendes.

Kai was almost as bad as he said.

It wasn't that he was bad, but more like he had no idea how to actually sing. Quinston was evidently trying not to laugh OR wince at his companion's attempt at karaoke as a blush was painted across his face and his gaze held an emotion Kai dare not name. 

Quinston took the second verse after the chorus, then they both did the third part before forgetting all restraints and singing their hearts out for the big finale. By the time the song was done they were both grinning like idiots and laughing at each other for no apparent reason. 

Quinston went back to get another set of drinks while Kai returned to their table and tried to wipe his idiotic smile off his face. He at first succeeded, but as soon as the brunette Magiclica with the bright green eyes returned the smile returned and reappeared on Quinston's face as well.

"Well?" Kai questioned.

Quinston shook his head and sighed. "Remind me to never force you into karaoke again."

"Well, I told you!" the boy with the red-dyed hair exclaimed. 

"Yeah yeah, you were right. Kai one, Quinston... about a dozen. Not gonna lie." The brunette said.

Kai huffed. "Oh, egoistic much?" 

"What can I say? I am Quinston O'kouzlo."

The tan skinned boy lightly punched the lighter skinned one. They both were still smiling, enjoying each other's presence far too much than they both knew they should. Then they both happened to look at the clock and saw it was nearly nine.

"We should really get going..." Quinston sighed with disappointment.

"Yeah..."

Quinston held out his arm to Kai again. "Mind if I walk you out?"

Kai rolled his eyes and allowed the duo-elementaled Magiclica to guide him out of the bar. "I guess I'll see you around?" the Spero said hopefully.

Quinston nodded. "Don't avoid me again, okay? Like I said, 'without your kisses, I'll be needing stitches~'" he sang the line, causing Kai's face to immediately heat up once again. He looked down to the ground, or basically anywhere except the confident' handsome face that was Quinston O'kouzlo.

A portal opened up in front of Kai. "That should take you straight to your room." Quinston said reluctantly. Kai nodded.

"Thanks for tonight. I... I had fun. 'Night, Quinston."

"G'night, Kai." 

With that, the Spero stepped through the portal and straight into his room. He immediately flopped onto the bed and sighed dreamily. All he could think of was the beautiful Magiclica boy's smile that he thought he could never be with.

Little did he know, that same boy was dreaming of the sweet, caring, honest boy trapped on the wrong side of the law that he thought would never like him for who he was.

————————

“Stitches” is Kaiston season 2, change my mind. Tbh I kind of want to rewrite this for season 2 developments but the events haven’t unfolded completely so I don’t know if I should? And it wouldn’t be as happy because Kaiston right now isn’t as fluffy as it was when I wrote this around... I think episode 115 I think

Word count: 2000

#magiclicas #qutejakey #kaiston #posted back when kai was a spero #how the times have changed #karaoke

[plinian]

C2E2 ROUND UP POST

this past weekend was C2E2 and it was incredible! i got to hang out with, and meet some, amazing people! got to get my cosplay on! just basically i am so glad that the big chicago con turned out to be so amazing and even though i am very broke, i didnt need money to make it fun and worth while! 

now, time for that round up post:

obviously first off is cosplay, i cosplayed all three days which was super fun and thankfully (almost) all of my cosplays were comfortable enough for me to get around and see the con without any issue! 

friday i was bobbi morse, in the style of the mockingbird 8 cover. which was perfect for exploring the show floor in though i did get stopped a number of time by people asking me what exactly my "feminist agenda" was (which tbc is kiss cute girls)

saturday, i was the agents of shield version of madame hydra, which was a hit in the best of way. which was most people telling me how evil and awful she was and getting my photo op with iain de caestecker where we looked "evil" 

sunday, i closed out the con with my bombshell jesse quick which was when things got complicated because apparently knowing how to ice skates does not mean knowing how to roller skate and i may or may not have fallen down 3 times before giving up and dropping my skates off at the age of geeks table in cosplay central

really one of the great things about cosplaying is being recognized for your character and each time i had that happen. with bobbi i was stopped a lot for photos, which was helped by the fact that the lovely @geeky-mikaboo was dressed as america chavez! with madame hydra, i took one step into the convention center and was stopped for photos instantly + hanging out at aos stuff all day made me recognizable.  while with jesse quick i had a few people recognize me (someone yelled "i love you jesse quick" while i was on the show floor, i did get called bombshell flash a few times and "one of those iron man dancers"???

some celeb highlights include:

 the wynonna earp panel + meet and greet afterwards. i didnt even know this was happening until the day of but it was such a wonderful surprise! the panel was really chill and the cast was just right there mingling with us all before it started  -  we gave tim rozen recommendations for what good chicago food he had to try when he was in town, including chicago style hot dogs! - i got selfies with the guys ( this and that ), who were all so incredible and just very fun to talk to- talked to new cast member varut about who good legion is and how he should read mockingbird among other lady led comics (he called me a feminist icon when he autographed my poster)- emily andras was incredible and just so supportive of the fans and honestly that means a lot

meeting iain de caestecker + the agents of shield panel- iain was super great and said "you're madame hydra that's incredible" when i first came up to his table - later when we had out photo op i asked him to look evil with me and iain said afterwards that he wasnt sure if he looked more confused or evil and when he wrote on my photo op he said we looked "evil ish" - we also confirmed that his evil fist is the arthur meme (tell me i am wrong??)- getting into the shield panel was a whole mess because we had an hour delay due to the projector started smoking and everyone had to be evacuated - a lot of great tidbits from the panel but honestly the highlight was iain confirming that robot sex def happened (if you want you can watch the whole panel on twitch)- just basically iain was incredible and he needs to do cons more !!

we also met elizabeth henstridge who was really sweet, and is really pretty, and it was just for a small second but she was really nice

we met zachary levi, because this line was empty and we just wanted to say hello! he was super chill and gave a shout out for mika's cousin who is a big tangled fan which was adorable. 

we met danielle panabaker and were kind of sarcastic shits but to be fair it was all meant in kindness and she probably hates us now. also we asked by sky high and if we'd ever get a sequel ? sky grad school? sky day care? 

other general highlights include:

 friday's rotten tomatoes panel,, which included the chance to get up on the big screen by tweeting with their hashtag and i may have gone a bit twitter crazy, but you guys have seen my liveblogging tv shows did you honestly expect anything less of me?? (bonus i got free movie tickets, because i made it up there so many times so guess who is seeing guardians of the galaxy 2 this weekend!)

 i did five professional cosplay photoshoots, and since you are here on my cosplay blog i know you are all excited for those !! (or well i am oops)

the mcdonalds at the convention center running out of mcnuggets and fries and basically everything, like i was lucky i got a soda by the end of the day because this place was so packed !! even tho like 20 min after i sat down to eat they apparently got more mcnuggets ??(note to self next time: pack a lunch)

drinking at the hyatt bar saturday night and all the fun that came with that!  

honestly just ?? surviving three days with only a minor cause of the con plague and a handful of bruises (mostly from falling while on skates)

last but not least, just shout out to everyone i met up with at the con there is too many people to tag! you are all amazing! 

until next time!

next con? acen, maybe? or motor city comic con? i need to decide since theyre the same weekend... 

#cosplay commentary #c2e2

[scouringsaucepans-blog]

Would You Just... Stop Boozing? Part Two

My sister is staying for the weekend. She's in the front room with my mum and me, talking to my mum about hotels she's been working with, looking at ornaments on the bookcase, drinking red wine. Mum also has red wine. I'm on the Earl Grey, feeling droopy tired and low and unable to concentrate. I should have more to say. This is a situation that requires booze, yet I am not boozing, so I sit there, on the edge of the conversation, a stranger even among my closest family, anxious and sober, wondering why I find everything so difficult. I go to bed early and sit up tapping on my laptop, listening to the muffled voices drifting up from below. I wonder whether they're talking about me. Liz asking how I'm doing, whether I'm any better. Mum pausing, unsure how to answer. I realised recently that every situation in my life includes alcohol. I'll sit cocooned at home, in a world of screens and thoughts, and I'll only perhaps have a wine, a whisky, it's not that important. But if I go out, to meet friends, parents, to go to a party, the cinema, a meal, a day off, an evening after work, I'll have to drink. You fall into it. It's not like getting up at 7am to swig vodka from the bottle in an unfurnished bedsit with wallpaper peeling from the walls, at least not for me. It's more drinking to relieve anxiety, shyness, as a tonic for uneasy feelings, as a bandage, a crutch, a necessity, and finally just as the unconscious routine of my life. It's easy deciding to stop boozing. What's hard is how to deal with all the neglected life you find dried and withered waiting for you after you stop. After so many years when the answer to every question was a drink, I feel clumsy and ungainly grasping for a different solution. Even with my sister. She comes into my room, starts looking around for her toothbrush. "In bed and it's not even midnight, you are being good," she says. "I'm trying." It takes me a long time to fall asleep. *** Next morning, however, is another day. I'm up early and writing, feel growth in my bones, rolling stretch of energy. I goof around with Liz, drink tea. We don't know what to do with the afternoon -- what do families do? -- but the weather is good and Yorkshire is Yorkshire, so we decide to walk, a walk is the thing, out to the Peaks in ranging wilds to get lost in the heather. But I'm glum again in the car. I don't feel like walking, don't feel like chatting or listening to them chat, feel the strain of something being required of me that I am not capable of providing. I keep the feeling in check, hide it inside, but it's there, gnawing away. Then we meet an old man and he makes things better. "Don't be bothering with that," the old man says as Mum, Liz and I crowd around the pay-and-display machine at the car park. "Oh, yes, har har," Liz says, rather inelegantly, because she has no idea what to say, but someone has to say something. "Don't need no ticket," the old man, who somehow has two walking sticks, says. "Police don't come down here. Haven't put in toilets. And got no card, do you?" "Mm?" Liz says. "It's card payment only, it says." "Aye, but you've got no card, do you?" "Ohh..." Liz getting it. "Well, she's paying already." Motions at Mum. "She's too honest. But thank you." Tries to smile him away. "Only ice cream van comes here," the old man says, not moving off. "Well," I say, looking at the ice cream van, my eyes narrowing. "Could be undercover police. Could be a sting." The old man turns to me, levels a long glare, turns back to Liz. This always happens. My joke having fallen on deaf ears -- perhaps literally -- I abandon Liz, and turn to help Mum, who is having an absolute nightmare with the machine, as she does with all machines. The old man stands with Liz, who has used up her best smiles and is starting to look uncomfortable. The old man glances towards the car closest to us, a dog-on-board sticker in its window. He clears his throat. "Dog... on... board," he growls. He looks at Liz. She looks at him. he walks off. We could not be happier. A Thing has occurred, a genuine Thing, and it was just what we needed. We growl "dog... on... board" at each other all the way down the trail, cracking ourselves up again and again. *** The peaks take our breath and roll it into deepening valleys and over sharp rocks up into cavernous sky, as they always do. I can never believe we live here. The Earth is splayed clear and hard below us, heather and rough trees poppling out to the horizon, the wind cratering and crushing -- jagged Northern land majestic yet cruel, making you aware more than anything of being on the side of a dying rock-planet looking out, into the allness of space. We stand and feel small. We breathe. We take photographs. *** The release lasts the duration of the walk, and the ice cream reward, right up to the drive home. I scroll through the photographs Liz has taken, seeing my gimpy thrust-armed skeleton self, over and over, hair whisping loose from skull, morose chub-cheeked scowl though felt I was smiling, one shot after the other. What a beast I look, I think secretly in the car, handing the phone back, saying not a thing. At home I make a risotto while they drink gin and tonics, and the rice won't final-soften, the greens lose their colour; Mum has bough frunched-up instead of flat-leaf parsley, in the end the meal tastes of nothing, I reckon -- they cry yum but I know better, and I have a headache and I'm frustrated and I want wine. They have wine. I have water. My sober mind is so neurotic, itchy busy and aware and alert. Gently-blunting alcohol, underwater-green rounding the edges and sliding thoughts happily into place, has always, mostly, worked -- there's a reason I do it. The problem is that it blunts everything else, my writing sense, my willpower, my drive, my flame. And the hangovers are the pits. So jeering sober spike-thoughts it'll have to be. I want to watch a film, feel without alcohol that'll be second-best escape. Want motion and sound within which to hide. But Liz isn't so keen, we can't decide upon anything. She won't watch The Grand Budapest Hotel or The Darjeeling Limited, they look too "weird" and "annoying". She won't watch The Sweet Hereafter, too slow a drama. I tell her she's close-minded, she should give something different a chance. "Leave her alone," Mum says. Liz says she isn't sure she fancies a film, if anything it'd have to be easy-dumb, like Olympus has Fallen. "Definitely fucking not," I say. "Who's close-minded now?" "Piss off." Mum makes that little noise that means she's about to suggest something, beautiful Mum so shy putting herself forward, even with her own kids. And no wonder, because: "I think back here I've got... Yes, here it is -- we could watch Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe?" "Unngh," I sigh. "God, no!" Liz says. "For ten years you've been trying to get me to watch Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. I am not going to watch some film called [voice dripping with disdain] 'Fried Green Tomatoes at the Effing Whistle Stop Cafe.'" Mum looks crestfallen, as always. "Rob's right, you know. You are close-minded." Liz and I burst out laughing. Sweet old Cath pushed finally to a little sass, plus of course our shared understanding that for no discernible reason neither of us will ever, as long as we live, watch that DVD of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. And after that, though it has taken long enough, everything is finally OK. We end up not watching a film. I say I don't mind watching the first episode of Stranger Things, which Liz wants to show me, but then we never put it on, sit instead with legs resting on each other on the sofa, Mum in her rocking chair, and we read our books; Liz helps Mum set up an Instagram account, searches on Google for clever writing hashtags for me while I copy my blog posts across to Tumblr; and we sit tapping away, heads down, on our phones but together, not the perfect family but a family, like all the rest, and the night sways on and perhaps the not boozing does have something going for it because Mum looks up at one point to see her two children sitting with her and murmurs that she is perfectly content, and for the first time in a long time I'd have to say that I agree.

#writers #writer #writers of tumblr #my writing #my words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #sheffield #mental health #blogging #blogger #blog posts

[lauramalchowblog]

Is BBQ Sauce Keto?

Summer is for grillin’ and smokin’ meats. Brisket, ribs, tri-tip, sausages, pork shoulder, chicken, salmon… I’m making myself hungry. What goes perfectly with grilled and smoked meats? BBQ sauce.

Whenever I mention how much I enjoy barbecue, someone says to me, “Wait, Mark, can you have BBQ sauce?” I get it. BBQ sauce is often on the list of condiments to avoid on low-carb, Primal/paleo, or keto diets. People are surprised to find out I can and do eat BBQ sauce regularly.

I’m not just being rebellious and ignoring my own rules here. Although there is some important nuance that I’ll cover in this post, it’s definitely possible to enjoy BBQ sauce even on low-carb and keto diets.

Stay on track no matter where you are. Instantly download your Primal and Keto Guide to Eating Out

Is BBQ Sauce Keto?

There’s nothing inherently un-keto about BBQ sauce. It’s basically tomatoes, vinegar, and spices. No problems there. I know some keto folks will say tomatoes aren’t allowed on keto, but I think that’s nonsense. No vegetable is de facto forbidden on a healthy keto diet if you ask me. “But tomatoes are fruit.” Okay, fine. You can still eat them on keto.

Some people can’t do nightshades, so they would want to avoid tomatoes, but that’s an issue of intolerance, not carbs or ketosis. Separate issue.

The biggest considerations here are how many carbs are in BBQ sauce and whether it’s a good way to way to spend your carb allotment. Already this is a nuanced question. There’s a lot of individual variation in carb tolerance and what constitutes an optimal keto diet for a given person. As a starting point, the Keto Reset recommends that most people aim for 50 grams of carbs per day without counting above-ground, non-starchy vegetables. For some people, this might be too high; for others, it’s too low.

I’ve also recommended a flexible limit of 18 grams of carbs per meal (unless you’re doing OMAD). Some brands of BBQ sauce have 18 grams of carbs in a single two-tablespoon serving. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend devoting your entire carb allowance to a small ramekin of sauce. On the other hand, Primal Kitchen Classic BBQ Sauce only has 3 grams of carbs per two tablespoons. Other brands are somewhere in the middle.

You can easily stay under your carb limit and enjoy a big plate of meat, a side of grilled zucchini, and a generous pour of a lower-carb BBQ sauce. Given that most of the carbs in a sauce like Primal Kitchen’s come from tomatoes, I see no reason to avoid it.

Aren’t Sweeteners Prohibited on Keto?

Again, this isn’t a straightforward question. On principle, most keto folks choose to abstain from sugar altogether. A small amount of sugar won’t necessarily knock you out of ketosis, but it’s certainly wise to limit consumption of sugar-sweetened BBQ sauces. There are more keto-friendly options anyway.

Some brands use “natural” sweeteners like date paste or molasses. These aren’t inherently un-keto either, in my opinion, aside perhaps from the carb load. Still, if staying in ketosis is important to you, it’s wise to invest in a blood glucose meter and test your reaction to these ingredients. If you don’t experience a massive blood glucose response, they’re fine to consume within reason. Likewise for sauces sweetened with stevia or sucralose (although I’d avoid the latter myself).

With most sweetened BBQ sauces, you’ll probably have to stick to a small serving to keep carbs reasonable. Of course, there are unsweetened options. Not to toot my own horn again, but Primal Kitchen Classic BBQ Sauce and Golden Barbecue Sauce are both unsweetened and organic.

Carb count isn’t the only reason I prefer unsweetened sauces, though. Since I’ve been eating a Primal and keto diet for so long, I find that I don’t enjoy uber-sweet BBQ sauces anymore. They mask the flavor of the meat rather than enhancing it. My palate is more attuned to prefer savory flavors now.

What About the Other Ingredients?

Beyond the sweeteners, are there other ingredients in BBQ sauce that would make it not keto-friendly?

That depends on what type of keto diet you’re following. With dirty keto or IIFYM (if it fits your macros), anything goes in terms of ingredient quality as long as you stay with your macros. For those of you with more Primal sensibilities, the answer is yes, some BBQ sauces contain ingredients you probably steer clear of—modified corn starch, caramel color, and the aforementioned sucralose, for example.

Strictly from a keto perspective, you don’t have to avoid those ingredients. Caramel color won’t knock you out of ketosis. Nevertheless, many folks believe that the whole point of keto is to support metabolic health, so food quality matters. I obviously agree. However, we should acknowledge that other people only care about carb counting.

So I AM Allowed to Eat BBQ Sauce on Keto?

Let’s reframe that question. You’re allowed to eat whatever you want, especially if you’re not trying to stay in ketosis 24/7. I’m not trying to be pedantic, though. The answer is: Yes, it’s possible to include BBQ sauce on a keto diet, maintain ketosis, and still have enough carb allowance to eat plenty of foods like vegetables.

Your best options are to buy an unsweetened variety or make your own. I have a recipe on MDA and in The Keto Reset Diet Cookbook. Secondarily, you can choose a store-bought option made with a sweetener you’re comfortable with and adjust your serving size based on how many carbs it contains.

How to Eat Keto at a BBQ Joint

You can basically guarantee that restaurant BBQ sauce options are not going to be keto-friendly by most people’s standards. If you’re lucky, they might offer a Carolina-style mustard-based BBQ sauce, but even those are often made with honey or sugar.

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the heck out of some great BBQ from your favorite restaurant. Here are some tips:

Check the menu before you go so you know what to expect.

Bring your own sauce. I’ve been toting salad dressing to restaurants for years, so I have no qualms about this.

Ask for your meat to be served “naked.”

Avoid anything described as fried, battered, or sweet.

For sides, stick to steamed vegetables, collard greens, and salad.

Pass on the rolls and biscuits, corn, baked beans, and potatoes. Restaurant coleslaw is often loaded with sugar, unfortunately, not to mention dodgy oils in the mayo dressing.

Dry rubs usually contain sugar, too. Personally, this isn’t something I stress about. The amount of sugar you’ll actually get in a serving of brisket or pulled pork is probably pretty small. I don’t think you’ll ruin your keto diet by consuming a small amount of dry rub. Worst case scenario, you’re out of ketosis for a few hours before slipping back in. However, this is a personal comfort issue. If you have a zero-tolerance policy for sugar, ask your server about how everything is prepared (or better yet, call ahead).

Keto Should Be Enjoyable

I’m writing this post in the first place because as a purveyor of BBQ sauce, I’ve so often been asked if BBQ sauce is keto. This tells me that there is still a lot of dogma in the keto world. It brings to mind an image of a keto dieter sitting over a plate of meat, looking forlornly at a bottle of BBQ sauce, believing they must abstain or get kicked out of the keto club forever. Tragic.

Deciding whether to eat BBQ sauce shouldn’t be a major source of angst. As with so many other dietary decisions, you have to consider your specific context, health, and values. Don’t let other people set hard-and-fast rules for you. If you’re suffering through bland, boring meals, or your diet stresses you out, it’s not going to be sustainable. Food is meant to be enjoyed. Use your head… and watch your carbs.

(function($) { $("#df63hZ2").load("https://www.marksdailyapple.com/wp-admin/admin-ajax.php?action=dfads_ajax_load_ads&groups=674&limit=1&orderby=random&order=ASC&container_id=&container_html=none&container_class=&ad_html=div&ad_class=&callback_function=&return_javascript=0&_block_id=df63hZ2" ); })( jQuery );

The post Is BBQ Sauce Keto? appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

Is BBQ Sauce Keto? published first on https://venabeahan.tumblr.com

[jesseneufeld]

Is BBQ Sauce Keto?

Summer is for grillin’ and smokin’ meats. Brisket, ribs, tri-tip, sausages, pork shoulder, chicken, salmon… I’m making myself hungry. What goes perfectly with grilled and smoked meats? BBQ sauce.

Whenever I mention how much I enjoy barbecue, someone says to me, “Wait, Mark, can you have BBQ sauce?” I get it. BBQ sauce is often on the list of condiments to avoid on low-carb, Primal/paleo, or keto diets. People are surprised to find out I can and do eat BBQ sauce regularly.

I’m not just being rebellious and ignoring my own rules here. Although there is some important nuance that I’ll cover in this post, it’s definitely possible to enjoy BBQ sauce even on low-carb and keto diets.

Stay on track no matter where you are. Instantly download your Primal and Keto Guide to Eating Out

Is BBQ Sauce Keto?

There’s nothing inherently un-keto about BBQ sauce. It’s basically tomatoes, vinegar, and spices. No problems there. I know some keto folks will say tomatoes aren’t allowed on keto, but I think that’s nonsense. No vegetable is de facto forbidden on a healthy keto diet if you ask me. “But tomatoes are fruit.” Okay, fine. You can still eat them on keto.

Some people can’t do nightshades, so they would want to avoid tomatoes, but that’s an issue of intolerance, not carbs or ketosis. Separate issue.

The biggest considerations here are how many carbs are in BBQ sauce and whether it’s a good way to way to spend your carb allotment. Already this is a nuanced question. There’s a lot of individual variation in carb tolerance and what constitutes an optimal keto diet for a given person. As a starting point, the Keto Reset recommends that most people aim for 50 grams of carbs per day without counting above-ground, non-starchy vegetables. For some people, this might be too high; for others, it’s too low.

I’ve also recommended a flexible limit of 18 grams of carbs per meal (unless you’re doing OMAD). Some brands of BBQ sauce have 18 grams of carbs in a single two-tablespoon serving. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend devoting your entire carb allowance to a small ramekin of sauce. On the other hand, Primal Kitchen Classic BBQ Sauce only has 3 grams of carbs per two tablespoons. Other brands are somewhere in the middle.

You can easily stay under your carb limit and enjoy a big plate of meat, a side of grilled zucchini, and a generous pour of a lower-carb BBQ sauce. Given that most of the carbs in a sauce like Primal Kitchen’s come from tomatoes, I see no reason to avoid it.

Aren’t Sweeteners Prohibited on Keto?

Again, this isn’t a straightforward question. On principle, most keto folks choose to abstain from sugar altogether. A small amount of sugar won’t necessarily knock you out of ketosis, but it’s certainly wise to limit consumption of sugar-sweetened BBQ sauces. There are more keto-friendly options anyway.

Some brands use “natural” sweeteners like date paste or molasses. These aren’t inherently un-keto either, in my opinion, aside perhaps from the carb load. Still, if staying in ketosis is important to you, it’s wise to invest in a blood glucose meter and test your reaction to these ingredients. If you don’t experience a massive blood glucose response, they’re fine to consume within reason. Likewise for sauces sweetened with stevia or sucralose (although I’d avoid the latter myself).

With most sweetened BBQ sauces, you’ll probably have to stick to a small serving to keep carbs reasonable. Of course, there are unsweetened options. Not to toot my own horn again, but Primal Kitchen Classic BBQ Sauce and Golden Barbecue Sauce are both unsweetened and organic.

Carb count isn’t the only reason I prefer unsweetened sauces, though. Since I’ve been eating a Primal and keto diet for so long, I find that I don’t enjoy uber-sweet BBQ sauces anymore. They mask the flavor of the meat rather than enhancing it. My palate is more attuned to prefer savory flavors now.

What About the Other Ingredients?

Beyond the sweeteners, are there other ingredients in BBQ sauce that would make it not keto-friendly?

That depends on what type of keto diet you’re following. With dirty keto or IIFYM (if it fits your macros), anything goes in terms of ingredient quality as long as you stay with your macros. For those of you with more Primal sensibilities, the answer is yes, some BBQ sauces contain ingredients you probably steer clear of—modified corn starch, caramel color, and the aforementioned sucralose, for example.

Strictly from a keto perspective, you don’t have to avoid those ingredients. Caramel color won’t knock you out of ketosis. Nevertheless, many folks believe that the whole point of keto is to support metabolic health, so food quality matters. I obviously agree. However, we should acknowledge that other people only care about carb counting.

So I AM Allowed to Eat BBQ Sauce on Keto?

Let’s reframe that question. You’re allowed to eat whatever you want, especially if you’re not trying to stay in ketosis 24/7. I’m not trying to be pedantic, though. The answer is: Yes, it’s possible to include BBQ sauce on a keto diet, maintain ketosis, and still have enough carb allowance to eat plenty of foods like vegetables.

Your best options are to buy an unsweetened variety or make your own. I have a recipe on MDA and in The Keto Reset Diet Cookbook. Secondarily, you can choose a store-bought option made with a sweetener you’re comfortable with and adjust your serving size based on how many carbs it contains.

How to Eat Keto at a BBQ Joint

You can basically guarantee that restaurant BBQ sauce options are not going to be keto-friendly by most people’s standards. If you’re lucky, they might offer a Carolina-style mustard-based BBQ sauce, but even those are often made with honey or sugar.

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the heck out of some great BBQ from your favorite restaurant. Here are some tips:

Check the menu before you go so you know what to expect.

Bring your own sauce. I’ve been toting salad dressing to restaurants for years, so I have no qualms about this.

Ask for your meat to be served “naked.”

Avoid anything described as fried, battered, or sweet.

For sides, stick to steamed vegetables, collard greens, and salad.

Pass on the rolls and biscuits, corn, baked beans, and potatoes. Restaurant coleslaw is often loaded with sugar, unfortunately, not to mention dodgy oils in the mayo dressing.

Dry rubs usually contain sugar, too. Personally, this isn’t something I stress about. The amount of sugar you’ll actually get in a serving of brisket or pulled pork is probably pretty small. I don’t think you’ll ruin your keto diet by consuming a small amount of dry rub. Worst case scenario, you’re out of ketosis for a few hours before slipping back in. However, this is a personal comfort issue. If you have a zero-tolerance policy for sugar, ask your server about how everything is prepared (or better yet, call ahead).

Keto Should Be Enjoyable

I’m writing this post in the first place because as a purveyor of BBQ sauce, I’ve so often been asked if BBQ sauce is keto. This tells me that there is still a lot of dogma in the keto world. It brings to mind an image of a keto dieter sitting over a plate of meat, looking forlornly at a bottle of BBQ sauce, believing they must abstain or get kicked out of the keto club forever. Tragic.

Deciding whether to eat BBQ sauce shouldn’t be a major source of angst. As with so many other dietary decisions, you have to consider your specific context, health, and values. Don’t let other people set hard-and-fast rules for you. If you’re suffering through bland, boring meals, or your diet stresses you out, it’s not going to be sustainable. Food is meant to be enjoyed. Use your head… and watch your carbs.

(function($) { $("#df01l0r").load("https://www.marksdailyapple.com/wp-admin/admin-ajax.php?action=dfads_ajax_load_ads&groups=674&limit=1&orderby=random&order=ASC&container_id=&container_html=none&container_class=&ad_html=div&ad_class=&callback_function=&return_javascript=0&_block_id=df01l0r" ); })( jQuery );

The post Is BBQ Sauce Keto? appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

Is BBQ Sauce Keto? published first on https://drugaddictionsrehab.tumblr.com/

[kxlebcross]

for the quarantine asks, multiples of 2, please :)

are you fucking serious???? i’m gonna get back at you for this, i’m smol and ready to fight!!!! (under the cut >:3)

2. Grilled cheese or PB&J? grilled cheese, always... idk, maybe i’m too european for that but pb&j just seems gross to me (noah fence to anyone who likes it tho)

4.  Your go-to bar order, if you drink? usually it’s a mojito, a gintonic or a vodka-tonic, depending on the place and its’ prices... and if i’m not that low on money sometimes an absinthe slips in, but that’s really rare, i’m not that young anymore and my body just can’t keep up with the alcohol anymore dfsdfd

6. Top three cuisines? uhhhh..... italian, hungarian and..... i don’t actually have a third hdgfhsd can i just generally say that ‘asian’? tbh i tried like 3-4 dishes from various asian countries which imo is way less than enough to choose a fave, and there’s also a lot more i’d like to try sometime... but my city doesn’t have many places to go to, and the only “chinese” restaurant we have is a cheap ripoff which never served a proper chinese dish in their life.... ordered from there twice, beforehand researching each dish i ordered and let me tell u.... they weren’t even close to what they were supposed to be......

8.  What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had?  i once worked at a strip club..... no, not as a stripper, i was a waiter/bartender, and honestly i wouldn’t even mind talking about it if the place wasn’t shady as fuck.... one of the national tv stations even made a full time documentary series about all the illegal shit that’s going down there..... but i never really did any unconventional jobs so there’s nothing fancy, but if i were to tell stories about what i’ve encountered during my ordinary jobs...... oh boi.......

10.  Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general? i have a signed photo with Flowsik from his Warsaw concert.... and i think that’s the only thing like that, if i ever had anything else it’s long forgotten and probably is laying in some box in my mom’s basement lmao

12. What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted? i only have bagels in the kfc breakfast offer so it’s usually some chicken, salad, cheese, egg and mayonnaise? i think? or was that the ciabatta? fuck me if i remember...... but if i could choose anything i’d probably go with smth similar, some chicken strips, veggies, bacon, cheese and moyinnaise? yeah, probably, im a man of simple tastes dsfdfg

14.  Favorite mug you own i wish i wasn’t so lazy and just take a picture of it, but i’m a lazy fuck so here i go explaining XD so its actually a middle-sized coffee mug, it’s pastel greyish-pink with two cats on it, and one of the cats is chilling on a guitar.... it was a bday present from my mums friend and it came in a cat head-like box which i kept.... it’s now on the top shelf in it’s all grotesque cat box glory..... like the ceiling cat meme

16.  Pick a song lyric to describe your current mood (and drop the name and artist!)  uhhhh tbh my mood is usually a blank space, apathy be fun like that... so ill just list some that i’m generally vibin’ with

Take a knife in the back, wanna feel my pain Make a slice to the wrist to reveal those veins I could see your face, man I feel insane

Such a mess when I'm in your presence I've had enough, think you've been making me sick Gotta get you out of my system, yeah

MGK - In These Walls

I just can’t get enough of you, but that’s alright Feeling like going on a joyride with you through the night I keep accelerating on the road with you at my side

Lexie Liu - Like a Mercedes

And it's nights like this when I'm on my own And I realize that you'll never feel like home No, I can't feel you now (Feel me now) And I try my best to stick around But when you're broken like me, you just gotta get out 

Bring Me The Horizon -  ±ªþ³§ feat. YONAKA (but i’m generally vibin’ with the whole album that this song is from)

18.  What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless?  okay so i’m probably not gonna rewatch it ever again, but... when i was a kid there was this german series on tv and it was called medicopter 117.... so in exam season i realized that as a kid i never got to finish it so i decided to rewatch... listen, it’s a 1997 series... but damn it was actually better than some of the crap ppl call tv show now....... not gonna rewatch tho, some moments and plotlines were frustrating as fuck

20.  Do you match your socks? yes! but only because i either have them all black (which will match anyway) or funky colorful fruit patterned ones that look a bit much even on their own so i wouldn’t really wanna mix’n’match those in fear they would just look tacky as fuck

22.  What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) well for a while i was the horse kid, then the cat kid, then the car kid and then i ended up being the resident class emo with a weird obsession over Lord of the Rings.... it was a wild ride, though the emo phase sort of stuck with me even now

24.  What’s your opinion on Lazy Susan’s (the spinning tray in the middle of tables)? the what? i stg i never encountered it in my life so i’m not really having an opinion on it, sorry to disappoint

26.  You can only have one juice for the rest of your life, what is it? definitely orange... apple has a weird aftertaste, tomato is gross, banana feels like having jizz in ur mouth.... yeah, we’re sticking with orange (also please don’t ask me to elaborate on the jizz part)

28.  What’s one thing you’re trying to learn/relearn in your downtime right now? i’m actually trying to get better with some overwatch heroes i never learned before... since the lockdown started i got a lot better with snipers and i1m actually pretty proud of it

30.  Where could someone find you in a museum? most likely in the souvenir shop trying to find the cheapest thing..... or chilling on some bench/chair after watching all the art pieces, i’m usually way too lazy to stand around and wanna get out pretty fast, but i think it has more to do with the fact that i don’t really like to hang out around people and museums tend to always have a few of those

32.  Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds? stars and clouds.... but man i actually really miss stars........ that’s the only thing that’s shitty in living at the city that i can’t see the stars

34.  Do you have more art on your walls or more photographs? i think art.... i mean i have three movie posters, an overwatch one, a religious calendar from my mum, and then a pride flag and some tacky painting the landlady insisted on keeping on the wall.....

36.  Pick a superhero sidekick to hang out with uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... okay i’m gonna admit, i’m not really into superheroes so i’m not that well-informed about their sidekicks either.... can i just hang out with loki instead or smth?

38.  Favorite mid-2000s song oh no.... assuming it was around 2005.... i was like 7 at that time? what the fuck did  i listen to back then? uhhhhhhh i’m pretty sure that was a basshunter time back then? so i’m gonna go with Basshunter’s Now You’re Gone as i remember having it on my mp3 player dfjhjkdf

40.  Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)? usually at my pc, even when i have guests over because i don’t trust anyone with the playlists...... and when i’m over at someone i usually choose a fotel or smth and lay down in it as if i’ve never used a fotel before or couldn’t sit like a normal human being.... and if there’s no fotel then i’m sitting on the armrest of the sofa because apparently i can’t sit like a normal human being sdshfghsdf

42.  A song you didn’t think you’d enjoy but ended up loving  it’s this one.... one day just popped up in my youtube recommended and i was like what the fuck??????? but i’m not gonna say what it is, see for yourself ;)

44.  Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online? i..... try not to post at all??? but if i do it’s either no caption or “i randomly decided to post some pictures at 3am without thinking about a concept or caption so i’m just gonna wing it” kind of bullshit, no inbetween, i just can’t write meaningful shit under my pictures 

46.  What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store? fries..... i’m a slut for fries, best food ever......... give me fries......... i think i actually might buy some later now that we’re talking about it

48.  Do you like Jello? once again i’m way too european to have an opinion, sorry.....

50.  How are you at climbing trees? when i was a kid i was doing pretty well..... now, around 15 yrs and a few fucked up joints later i’m not sure how would i do....... if this stewpid lockdown is over i might actually convince my friend to find some trees to climb and then we’ll see....... (and then i hopefully won’t accidentally k*ll myself because he will be there to catch me if i fall lmaoooo)

#answered #kush speaks #kuwentista #jk im not gonna attack u #im just being funny like that >:3