#BUT HEY KEEP GOING WITH THE SALES PITCH YOU GOT ALL MY ATTENTION

[timothyslucy]

hello, it's a new day, i'm here, and i still can't believe we got footage of tim and lucy hiding away in the precinct, in tim's old office, in uniform, sucking each others faces off, hands all over each other like, "omg we're so silly!" mwah mwah mwah mwah 💋💋💋 "happy april fools!" i've never loved a couple of dumbasses more. 😭🫶

[marketingprofitmedia]

The Power of Content Marketing in Affiliate Promotion

The exciting world where content marketing meets affiliate promotion! If you’re an online marketer looking to turbocharge your affiliate sales, then you’ve stumbled upon the perfect read. Buckle up and get ready to explore the power of content marketing, sprinkled with a dash of humor to keep things lively.

Now, you might be wondering, “What exactly is content marketing, and how does it fit into the realm of affiliate promotion?” Well, my friend, content marketing is the art of creating and sharing valuable, relevant, and entertaining content with the goal of attracting and engaging a specific audience. It’s about building connections, trust, and genuine relationships through your content.

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But why should you care about content marketing when you’re knee-deep in the world of affiliate promotion? Because it’s a match made in digital marketing heaven! Content marketing has the remarkable ability to amplify your affiliate sales by leaps and bounds. It’s like the dynamic duo of the online marketing world, where one complements the other and creates a formidable force.

Imagine this: instead of bombarding potential customers with blatant sales pitches, you’re offering them informative, captivating, and downright hilarious content that makes them laugh, think, and take notice. It’s like serving a mouthwatering dish with a side of entertainment. By infusing your affiliate promotions into well-crafted content, you not only capture the attention of your audience but also earn their trust and loyalty. And let’s face it, in the online world, trust is as rare as a unicorn sighting.

But hey, we won’t leave you hanging with just the theory. In this article, we’ll dive into the nitty-gritty of content marketing for affiliate promotion. We’ll uncover the secrets to creating compelling content, explore various formats to unleash your creativity, and reveal strategies for building an engaged audience that can’t resist clicking on those affiliate links.

So, whether you’re a seasoned marketer looking to level up your game or a curious soul dipping your toes into the vast ocean of online marketing, grab a cup of coffee, kick back, and let’s explore the magical power of content marketing in affiliate promotion. Get ready to take your affiliate sales to new heights and have a few laughs along the way!

I. Understanding Content Marketing in Affiliate Promotion

The magical realm where content marketing and affiliate promotion intertwine! To truly harness the power of content marketing in affiliate promotion, it’s essential to grasp the intricacies of this dynamic duo. So, let’s dive in and unravel the secrets together, shall we?

you’re strolling through the bustling streets of the internet, searching for a way to promote those fantastic affiliate products or services you’ve got up your sleeve. But wait, what’s that shining beacon of hope in the distance? It’s none other than content marketing, here to save the day!

Content marketing, my friend, is like a clever wizard who knows how to captivate and enchant your target audience. It involves creating valuable, relevant, and downright irresistible content that sparks joy in the hearts of your readers. It’s about delivering information, entertainment, and solutions to their problems wrapped up in a neat little package.

But how does this sorcery work, you ask? Well, content marketing for affiliate promotion is all about establishing a genuine connection with your audience. Instead of hurling sales pitches like a rogue catapult, you offer them something more enticing — a delightful feast of engaging content. It’s like inviting them to a grand banquet where they can savor every word, laugh at your witty jokes, and nod in agreement as they soak up your knowledge.

Through your carefully crafted content, you provide value and build trust. You become the go-to resource, the trusted advisor, the friendly voice in a sea of noise. And guess what? When your audience trusts you, they’re more likely to follow your recommendations and click those oh-so-lucrative affiliate links. It’s like wielding a magic wand that sprinkles conversions in your path.

But hold on, my fellow magician. Content marketing in affiliate promotion isn’t just about throwing random content out into the digital abyss. No, no, no. It’s a strategic dance, a delicate balance between providing value and promoting those shiny affiliate products. You must align your content with your audience’s desires, their pain points, and their deepest yearnings.

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So, how do you weave this spellbinding content? It starts with understanding your target audience — those mystical creatures who hold the key to your success. Get inside their heads, walk a mile in their shoes, and discover what makes their hearts skip a beat. Once you’ve cracked the code, you can create content that speaks directly to their souls, resonates with their needs, and whisks them away on a fantastical journey.

But fear not, dear content marketing apprentice! In the next sections, we’ll delve deeper into the art of creating captivating content, exploring various formats to cast your spells, and uncovering strategies to build an enchanted army of loyal followers. Get ready to unlock the true power of content marketing in the realm of affiliate promotion!

II. Creating Compelling Content for Affiliate Promotion

The exhilarating task of crafting content that leaves your audience spellbound and itching to click on those affiliate links! Brace yourself, my fellow wordsmith, for we are about to embark on a journey to unlock the secrets of creating compelling content for affiliate promotion.

Now, let’s start with a sprinkle of wisdom. To create content that captivates, you must first understand your audience like a seasoned mind reader. Dive deep into their hopes, dreams, and desires. What keeps them awake at night? What problems do they yearn to solve? Armed with this knowledge, you can weave your words into a tapestry that resonates with their very souls.

But wait, don’t unleash a torrent of dry, mundane words upon your readers! Inject your content with a touch of enchantment, a splash of humor, and a dash of personality. Be the whimsical guide they never knew they needed. Infuse your words with a pinch of wit, a sprinkle of relatability, and watch as your audience dances with delight.

Now, let’s talk about the secret weapon in your arsenal: keywords. These magical little gems hold the key to unlocking the treasure trove of search engine rankings. Do your research, my friend, and uncover the golden keywords that align with your audience’s search queries. Strategically sprinkle them throughout your content, like breadcrumbs leading your readers straight to your affiliate promotions.

But remember, dear sorcerer of words, your content should not only enthrall but also educate. Offer your audience valuable insights, practical tips, and actionable advice. Become the wise sage they turn to for guidance. Show them that you’re not just there to sell, but to genuinely help them on their journey.

and let’s not forget the visual enchantments! Weave a tapestry of captivating visuals to complement your words. From stunning images that evoke emotions to mesmerizing videos that bring your message to life, the visual realm is a treasure trove of engagement. Embrace it, my friend, and watch as your audience’s eyes light up in delight.

Now, let’s sprinkle those affiliate links strategically, like magical artifacts hidden in plain sight. Seamlessly incorporate them within your content, offering natural recommendations that seamlessly blend with your valuable insights. Remember, subtlety is the key. Your audience must feel like they’ve stumbled upon a hidden gem, rather than being bombarded by shameless sales pitches.

So, my fellow magician of words, armed with the knowledge of your audience’s desires, the power of keywords, the allure of visuals, and the subtlety of affiliate links, you are now equipped to create content that enchants, educates, and converts. Unleash your creativity, embrace your inner wordsmith, and let the magic of compelling content cast its spell on your affiliate promotions. Get ready to watch your conversions soar and your audience clamor for more of your enchanting words!

III. Leveraging Different Content Formats for Affiliate Promotion

Where creativity knows no bounds and the possibilities are as limitless as the stars in the sky. Brace yourself, my imaginative companion, for we are about to embark on an adventure through various content formats that will elevate your affiliate promotion to new heights.

First, let’s unravel the secrets of the written word. Blog posts and articles, the timeless champions of content marketing, have the power to captivate, inform, and persuade. Craft your words like a master storyteller, drawing your audience into a world where they can’t resist devouring your every sentence. With strategic placement of affiliate links, your written content becomes a gateway to affiliate conversions, hidden within the treasure trove of valuable information you provide.

But let us not stop there, for the realm of video beckons. Videos, the dynamic and engaging storytellers of the digital realm, have become a force to be reckoned with. Grab your audience’s attention with captivating visuals, charming animations, and charismatic on-screen presence. Whether it’s product reviews, tutorials, or entertaining skits, videos allow you to showcase affiliate products in a way that leaves your audience craving more. And don’t forget to sprinkle those affiliate links in the video description or strategically within the video itself, like hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

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but the sweet sound of podcasts fills the air, captivating the hearts of those who crave knowledge on the go. Dive into the world of audio enchantment, where your voice becomes a soothing melody, lulling your audience into a state of pure engagement. Share valuable insights, conduct interviews with industry experts, and weave in affiliate promotions with finesse. With each episode, you create a loyal following who eagerly awaits your every word, ready to explore the affiliate products and services you recommend.

And who can forget the vibrant realm of social media? The scrolls of Facebook, the tweets of Twitter, and the captivating images of Instagram hold immense power. Harness the magic of social platforms to share bite-sized snippets of content that spark curiosity and ignite the desire to click on your affiliate links. Craft witty captions, create eye-catching graphics, and let your content go viral, spreading your affiliate promotions like wildfire across the digital landscape.

So, my creative comrade, armed with the knowledge of these diverse content formats, you have the ability to cast your affiliate promotions far and wide. Choose the format that resonates with your audience, embrace your inner artist, and let your content take on a life of its own. Unleash the power of written words, mesmerizing videos, captivating podcasts, and shareable social media content. Let your creativity be the guide that leads your audience straight to the treasures hidden within your affiliate links. It’s time to embark on a quest through the vast universe of content formats and watch as your affiliate promotions thrive like never before!

IV. Building an Engaged Audience through Content Marketing

Prepare yourself, my charismatic companion, for we are about to embark on a journey to unlock the secrets of building an audience that hangs onto your every word, eagerly awaiting your affiliate promotions.

First and foremost, let’s talk about consistency, the magical ingredient that keeps your audience spellbound. Like a well-practiced magician, you must deliver content on a regular basis, keeping the flames of engagement alive. Whether it’s weekly blog posts, monthly podcasts, or daily social media updates, consistency creates anticipation and establishes you as a reliable source of valuable content. Your audience will eagerly return for more, ready to devour every piece of content you conjure up.

But let us not forget the power of social media, the modern-day marketplace of ideas and connections. Cast your spell on platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, and watch as your audience grows. Engage in conversations, respond to comments, and sprinkle your content across the social landscape. Share captivating snippets, thought-provoking questions, and sneak peeks of your upcoming content. With each interaction, you forge stronger bonds and establish yourself as an influential figure in your niche.

Ah, the magic of email marketing, where you hold the key to their inbox. Build an army of loyal subscribers, eager to receive your newsletters, updates, and exclusive content. Provide value with each email, delivering insights, tips, and personalized recommendations. But be careful, my friend, for their trust is fragile. Treat their inbox as sacred ground, respecting their time and delivering content that genuinely enriches their lives. And within those emails, discreetly weave in your affiliate promotions, like a secret treasure shared only with those who have chosen to walk this path with you.

In the realm of influence, collaborations hold immense power. Seek out fellow wizards of content, influential figures in your niche who resonate with your audience. Join forces in a magical alliance, co-creating content, and amplifying each other’s reach. With their support and endorsement, your audience will perceive you as a trusted authority, and your affiliate promotions will hold even greater weight.

But remember, my enchanting companion, building an engaged audience is not a one-sided affair. Listen to their whispers, their comments, and their desires. Engage in conversations, ask for their input, and let their voices shape the direction of your content. Show them that their opinions matter, and they will reward you with unwavering loyalty.

So, armed with the power of consistency, the enchantment of social media, the art of email marketing, and the strength of collaborations, you have the ability to build an audience that hangs onto your every word. Nurture those connections, embrace their feedback, and let your content become a beacon of light in their digital journey. As your audience grows in size and engagement, your affiliate promotions will thrive, and the treasures of conversions will flow abundantly. It’s time to embark on this captivating adventure of audience-building through content marketing and watch as your influence takes flight like a magical phoenix.

V. Tracking and Analyzing Content Performance for Optimal Results

Where the mystical realm of data intertwines with the enchanting world of content marketing. Prepare yourself, my analytical ally, for we are about to embark on a journey to unlock the secrets of tracking and analyzing content performance for optimal results.

First and foremost, let us embrace the power of web analytics. Like a crystal ball, web analytics tools provide you with valuable insights into the performance of your content. Dive deep into the numbers, my friend, and discover which pieces of content resonate the most with your audience. Track metrics like page views, bounce rates, and time on page to understand how your audience engages with your content. Unearth the gems hidden within your analytics and use them to guide your future content creation endeavors.

But do not stop there, for the realm of social media analytics awaits. Platforms like Facebook Insights, Twitter Analytics, and Instagram Insights hold the keys to understanding how your content performs in the social landscape. Discover which posts generate the most engagement, which hashtags strike a chord with your audience, and which content formats elicit the most shares and likes. Armed with this knowledge, you can optimize your content strategy and create content that sparks conversations and ignites virality.

Now, my analytical ally, let us venture into the world of click-through rates and conversion tracking. Set up tracking pixels, my friend, and unlock the power of measuring the effectiveness of your affiliate promotions. Track the clicks, the conversions, and the revenue generated from your carefully placed affiliate links. Understand which pieces of content drive the most conversions and which promotions resonate the strongest with your audience. With this knowledge, you can fine-tune your approach, optimizing your content to maximize your affiliate earnings.

But the journey doesn’t end there, my data-driven companion. A/B testing beckons, offering a path to uncover the hidden secrets of content optimization. Create variations of your content, tweak headlines, experiment with different calls to action, and test different layouts. Measure the performance of each variation, and let the data guide you towards the most effective content strategies. Embrace the power of experimentation and let the results guide your content creation process.

And remember, my analytical ally, to always keep your goals in sight. Establish clear objectives for your content marketing efforts and align your tracking and analysis with those goals. Whether it’s increasing conversions, boosting engagement, or expanding your reach, let the data be your guiding star, illuminating the path to success.

So, armed with the power of web analytics, social media insights, click-through rates, conversion tracking, and A/B testing, you have the ability to uncover the hidden treasures within your content performance. Embrace the data, let it be your guide, and watch as your content marketing efforts soar to new heights. With each iteration, each optimization, and each measurement, you will unlock the secret formula for optimal results. It’s time to embark on this data-driven adventure and let the magic of tracking and analyzing elevate your content marketing to new dimensions of success.

Conclusion:

We reach the grand finale of our magical journey through the power of content marketing in affiliate promotion. It’s time to gather the strands of wisdom we’ve unraveled and bask in the glow of our newfound knowledge.

Content marketing, dear reader, is the spellbinding art of captivating your audience, building trust, and delivering value. It’s about forging connections, establishing yourself as an authority, and guiding your audience through a captivating narrative. By infusing your content with humor, wit, and a sprinkle of personality, you create an experience that leaves your audience yearning for more.

Throughout our adventure, we explored the many facets of content marketing. We dived into understanding its essence, the importance of creating compelling content, leveraging various formats, building an engaged audience, and tracking and analyzing performance. Each aspect revealed its own magical secrets, empowering us to navigate the ever-evolving landscape of affiliate promotion.

But remember, dear reader, that true mastery lies in the delicate balance between content and promotion. As content marketers, we have the power to captivate, educate, and inspire. We create a world where our audience finds solace, enlightenment, and solutions to their deepest desires. And within this world, we strategically place affiliate promotions, like hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

As you embark on your own content marketing journey, armed with the insights and strategies we’ve uncovered, remember to stay true to your audience. Understand their needs, empathize with their struggles, and deliver content that resonates with their souls. Infuse your content with your unique voice, for it is your greatest asset in a sea of digital noise.

And in the realm of affiliate promotion, let authenticity be your guiding principle. Promote products and services that you genuinely believe in, for your audience will sense the sincerity behind your recommendations. Be transparent, disclose your affiliations, and let trust be the cornerstone of your relationships.

With every piece of content you create, let it be a masterpiece, an enchanting work of art that leaves a lasting impression. Measure your success not just in clicks and conversions, but in the impact you make on the lives of your audience. Nurture your audience, engage with them, and continue to refine your craft.

So, dear reader, as we bid farewell to this enchanting journey, I leave you with a final thought: The power of content marketing in affiliate promotion is a force that can transform dreams into reality. Embrace it, wield it with wisdom, and let your content be the catalyst that sparks a magical connection between your audience and the products or services you promote. Now, go forth, my fellow magician of words, and weave your own tale of success in the realm of content marketing and affiliate promotion.

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Affiliate Disclaimer :

Some of the links in this article may be affiliate links, which means I receive a small commission at NO ADDITIONAL cost to you if you decide to purchase something. While we receive affiliate compensation for reviews / promotions on this article, we always offer honest opinions, users experiences and real views related to the product or service itself. Our goal is to help readers make the best purchasing decisions, however, the testimonies and opinions expressed are ours only. As always you should do your own thoughts to verify any claims, results and stats before making any kind of purchase. Clicking links or purchasing products recommended in this article may generate income for this product from affiliate commissions and you should assume we are compensated for any purchases you make. We review products and services you might find interesting. If you purchase them, we might get a share of the commission from the sale from our partners. This does not drive our decision as to whether or not a product is featured or recommended.

Source : The Power of Content Marketing in Affiliate Promotion

Thanks for reading my article on The Power of Content Marketing in Affiliate Promotion

[a-very-tired-raven]

Hello there! I just read your Swatch x Reader headcanons and was wondering Could i possibly get a Spamton x Reader where Spamton is just totally confused on if the Reader genuinely loves him or if its just some sales pitch. Hes been my comfort character for a while so it'd be nice :>

thank you for reading my silly request :]

Hiya broski! Sorry this took a bit to answer! I didn't really know how to approach this ask. I'm new to fics so I needed to take a bit to prepare so I would know how to write this and to get into the lil man's head if that's alright! Hope you enjoy my dude and remember to lemme know if anythings wonky!

●True Intentions ●

"Here you go sir, your order?" He gave a polite nod to the server "Yes thank you." They gave a small smile and walked away. He took a small sip of his drink as he returned to his thoughts. Spamton was....confused to say the least. He met you about a week ago in the alleyway of his shop.

You'd been looking for your pet or something and tried to dig in a garbage bin....Which was actually his shop. That was locked. He just got back with some goods thst he got a nice deal on and all he saw was some stranger pulling on the lock to his shop. He angerly poked on your waist to see what you were up to.

"What are you doing?!"You jumped and awkwardly explained what it was you were doing when he demanded to know what you were up to.

"I uh..lost my pet..I thought I seen her go off this way?" Of course he was still skeptical but put his goods up and helped you look.

Eventually you two did find what you were looking for and you thanked him more times then we could count. Right before you left is when you started the confusion. You awkwardly asked for his number, and when asked why you nervously shrugged and said he was nice and you thought he was cute. Which absolutely baffled him

When was the last time someone complemented him? Let alone ask for his number and want to spend more time again. He accepted of course and didn't think anything of it.

He started thinking about it when he ran into you almost every day for the rest of the week. Everytime you saw him you were thanking him,and trying your best to make small talk.

This included asking him questions, like what did he do for a living,how many sales has he made,what's the biggest deal he's made. All if which he's awkwardly responded to with vague and short answers. This made him even more suspicious. Whyd you wanna know so much about his job and deals?

He hasn't seen you since everyone's moved to the dark town. Maybe he wouldn't see you again. If there's a whole 'nother dark world who's to say there's not more? Maybe you were somewhere else.

The smell of pastries pulls him out of his thoughts a little. Banana nut he thinks. He does admit you are kinda cute.. which brings him to the present. Why him? It's pretty well known he's a business man.

A horrible one at that. He only Ever gets people's attention when they want to get a deal or a-a..a sales pitch...

His fists clench. Of course. Why else would you go after someone like him? You just wanna make a sales pitch. Nothing more then that. You could of just said so. You didn't have to barge in his life like that and lead him on all for the sake of a deal. It all makes sense now!

Who makes small talk like that??? About deals,and sales...why was that the first question to asked? Why not start off with basic small talk?? Why be interested in him? Why him? Why'd you need to know what his biggest sale and deal was! Of all the people...You just wanted a good deal...

He doesn't hear the distant chime of the Cafe bell. He just angrily glares daggers at his own reflection. It wasn't until a shy familiar voice spoke pointedly in his direction did he force his head out of the clouds.

"Hey Spamton! I uhm.. how are you doing today?" You give a soft smile and take a seat in front of him. "I'm fine" He looked the other way. "Um.. " You glance at the window. You look at his order. "Ohh number 7! That's a good one. Moonberry fudge and a gram apple muffin. Nice." You give a soft smile.

He just remains quiet. You seem a little anxious by now. "..weather's nice huh?.." with only a human for a response you start brimming with anxiety. You try a different approach. "I had a good day at work! We didn't have any rude people.." You look at him.

"Uh how about you? How's work? You made any good sales today?" He looks up at you with a harsh glare. "Wouldn't you like to know!" You flinch and your happy aura quickly forms into an apologetic one.

"I-..im-im sorry..I didn't mean to ask anything sensitive.." You give a sorry look. "I didn't did i?" You look down at your hands. Spamtion hesitates for a moment. No.. He..He cant hesitate. He stands up.

"Yes. Yes you did impose. You imposed in my life acting all kind when I know what you really want." You have the audacity to look confused. "What are you talking about?." He ignores you and heads towards the exit. "Spamton? Spamton wait! Please..I just wanna kno-"

Your conversation fades to the back of his mind as he exists the Cafe and heads towards his house. He should have know better. That way it wouldn't have hurt as bad... He gives a soft wave to a wherewire and keeps walking. After a little bit he stops walking immediately when he feels I small tap on his shoulder.

He turns. "What?!" You give a hurt expression and focus on your hands. "I um..I just wanted to apologize for imposing.. I didn't know you didn't like talking about that" He rolls his eyes. "Just leave me alone already. It's pretty obvious you just want to talk business." Confusion crosses your face once more.

"What? What are you talking about?" His fists clench again. "Aw stop playing dumb already! It's pretty obvious you don't like me, Your just after a good deal or you want a chance at being some big shot with a sales pitch!" He didn't realize he was yelling.

Your practically cowering at this point. "I-what! No-No I'm not! Please believe me I really do like you.. I don't even know how to do business like that!" You have your hands up in front of you as if a policeman had pulled you over.

He falters for a moment. He looks back up again when you speak up. Sorta. "Please..is there anything I can do to make you believe me..." You say just barely above a whisper. He just remains quiet. After a moment of shared silence you were fed up.

"Fine then! I'll prove I'm crazy for you! Absolutely bonkers! You hear?!" You grab both his shoulders, "H-Hey! Put me down!" And yank him up and plant a big kiss on his cheek. "Now will you please go on a date with me?!"

Your face is absolutely covered top to bottom with a beautiful shade of red. Both from anger and embarrassment.After a moment of silence you awkwardly drop him. "S-sorry.." you hide your face in the neck if your shirt.

His cheeks are burning a bright peachy color. "Um..it's alright" after a small beat of silence he adds "yes."

You look back down at him. "Yes what??" You look confused. "...yes I'll go on a date with you.." He doesn't think anyone who'd want some deal would go that far. He believes you now and he says so.

Your quiet for a moment. A small smile works its way on your face. "Alrighty come on, I know just the place" you give a small wink and grab his hand dragging him off to who knows where. "W-what now?!" He gives a baffled expression as he tries to keep up.

You turn and look down again "yes now silly! I gotta make sure you belive me 100!" percent!. "A-alright then..." maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

ISNSJSS God that was a lot! And toughie! I enjoyed it tho!

[missskzbiased]

The Dickhead Cupid

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Confession! au, High School! au, Best Friends to lovers! au

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem! Reader

Word Count: ~2,9K [Yes, Guys, I suck at writing a Drabble. Sue me]

Notes: The second fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

Chan ||  Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Warnings: Language (?) [Dickhead is considered language? Dumbass. Things like this], Mentions of food, suggestive joke

Requested: Yes, by  🔮 anon [I hope you like it T^T]

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

                                                            ///

    Minho stood there in the empty classroom, staring blankly at the box.

    “Love u dick?” He said out loud, blinking a few times and studying the half-open box with a frown before raising his eyes to you, arching his brow judgingly “Are you sure it wasn’t supposed to be Jisung’s gift?” He asked in amusement, throwing you a knowing look that made your face burn like the ends of hell.

    “Head!” You hissed, yanking the box away from his hands to unwrap it completely “Love u Dick-Head!” You cried, showing him the sixteen pieces of chocolate that were supposed to be a friendly present “Read the damn thing properly, Godamnit!” You whined, utterly embarrassed as you returned the gift to him.

    “Why the hell didn’t you spell Dickhead in one line?!” He burst out laughing, analyzing the chocolate with twinkling eyes before shoving a piece inside his mouth, humming in appreciation “If you put ‘dick’ and ‘head’ in different lines, it’s bound to happen a misunderstanding!” He pointed out, chuckling before widening his eyes in realization and looking at you excitedly “Please, tell me that you gave one of those to Jisung” He begged, getting a hit on the shoulder as an answer.

    “Of course not!” He chortled, eating another piece while you freaked out “And how the hell would I put dickhead in one row if each one has only four pieces, dumbass?!” You protested, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted at him “It’s clear enough, okay?” You took the box once more, gesturing to the first row “Love” You stressed the word, getting a nod from him “U followed by a heart because they didn’t have a comma” You pointed at the two pieces, catching a glimpse of his smirk “Dickhead” You concluded, floundering your hand between the two last rows.

    “Clear as the day” He agreed, fighting back his smile as he reached for a third piece.

    “It was on sale, okay?!” You gave up, throwing your hands to the air “You know that I wanted to make something special to Jisung! And he had to come up with seven ungrateful brats attached!” You complained, making him cackle up in a ridiculous high-pitched laugh that made you chuckle along with him “I’m broke, give me a break” You sighed, pressing your hands on your cheeks and pulling your face down.

    “The guys totally read it the same way as I did, didn’t they?” He asked amusedly, losing it when you dejectedly nodded to confirm “With all due respect but what were you thinking?” He shook his head in disbelief, eating the last piece from the row and slapping his own leg, trying to tone down his merriment. You shrugged, too gloomy to keep arguing to defend your ideas, leaning back on your chair before glancing at the box on your desk, whimpering in mortification.

    Love u Dick.

   You squirmed on your chair as to throw a tantrum, wailing and reaching for a piece to destroy the embarrassing statement displayed on the box and shoving it inside your mouth. Minho whined in protest, furrowing his brows as he glared at you, bringing the box closer to him and eating another chocolate. You threw him a look, scorning him silently while slowly approaching your hand to the box ─ attentive to his watching eyes that resembled a tiger studying its prey ─, feeling the tension building up as you got closer to the chocolate. Minho didn’t only resemble a feline; he also had the same reflexes as one, slapping your hand right away as soon as you tried to jolt to snatch it from him.

    “Yah! I was the one who bought it!” You whined.

    “Yah! Don’t you know how to read?” He scoffed “M-I-N-H-O” He spelled, pointing to each letter on the gift-tag “That’s me, I’m Minho” He reasoned, gently tossing the paper on your face as he laughed at your surprised self “If you wanna share it, you should do it with your boyfriend” He teased, prompting you to get up from your chair to dope slap him in retaliation “Ouch!” He whined, throwing you a baffled look.

    “He’s not my boyfriend!” You howled, picking up the box to shove each piece inside his mouth. Minho laughed as he tried to fight you, failing to get up as you leaned on his back, using your weight to hold him down and your arm to wrap his shoulder, squeezing his cheeks with your free hand so you could force his mouth open.

    “Can you blame him?” He retorted in a muffled tone, trying to yank your hand away from him “Is that how you’d treat your boyfriend?!” He taunted before you finally accomplished your mission, shoving three pieces inside his mouth and making him snort as you announced your victory, laughing exhilarated and letting him go.

    “Hey” The small voice washed away any excitement you had in the previous second, making you close your eyes shut for a moment before turning around with a friendly smile, meeting Jisung’s eyes. He leaned on the doorframe, darting his eyes between both of you before landing them on the box; his smile faltering for a bit “I see you’re already giving away some Valentine’s gifts… Where is mine?” He said jokingly, though you could see the expectation in his eyes.

    “Oh, I didn’t buy you anything” You explained, noticing how his expression seemed to drop significantly “No! I mean- I didn’t buy anything because I want to give you something else!” You rushed to say, hitting Minho’s head when he muttered a ‘Smooth’ under his breath “I thought we could go to that place you really wanted to go… Like…” You trailed off, clearing your throat “Like…” A date.

    “Like?” He encouraged you to continue, eyes twinkling.

    “Like… To eat a cheesecake or something” You smiled half-heartedly “I know you always wanted to try it out” You added coyly, rubbing your arm as you glanced at him uncertainly. Was it too straight forward? Jisung seemed taken aback by your invite, letting his mouth fall agape, completely speechless “Or maybe I can just give you some chocolate as well… I mean, I just thought you would prefer the cheesecake” You floundered, too nervous to wait for his answer.

     “No!” He squeaked, snapping out of his trance and waving his hands vehemently to put away your suggestion “I love cheesecake!” He added in a rushed tone, pink slowly dusting his cheeks “I mean- It’s a date, right?!” His voice cracked, prompting him to snap his hand to his throat, clearing it in embarrassment “Not a date-date! I mean… A date, right?” He gulped down, seeming terrified to keep his eyes focused on you.

    “Yeah!” Your voice faltered just like his “Not a date-date! Haha!” You lied, feeling the shame slowly wash over you “Just because it’s Valentine’s day and I’m asking you to go out with me doesn’t mean it’s a date” You chortled, feeling too nervous to refrain yourself from talking “I mean! A boy and a girl can be bestest of friends and still go out on a date!” You added, snorting ungracefully as you shrugged to make your point. What point? You had no idea.

   “Exactly!” He nodded eagerly, gesturing at you in a way to show his agreement “We’re best friends, right?” He asked as if to make sure of it “Best friends go on dates all the time!” He placed his hands on his hips, nodding sharply to emphasize his point. You nodded along with him, both of you laughing in a robotic way that made Minho grimace in disgust, staring at you as if you guys had grown a third head out of nowhere.

    “Okay…” He said warily “I’ll let you best friends talk about your date for now” He got up from his chair, scraping it on the floor and making you cringe “Thank you for the chocolate, baby” He stressed the last word, patting the small of your back softly before getting his box and walk to the door, hesitating for a bit “Want some?” He asked Jisung, extending it to him.

    You didn’t know what Minho was planning, but you were sure that there was no way in hell that he would offer food for Jisung like this. You narrowed your eyes at them, watching as your best friend tried to hold a gasp, snapping his eyes at Minho ─ who suspiciously smirked at him ─ before darting them to you. He didn’t take any pieces ─ which was weird enough for itself ─ but as Minho made his way out, turning around to wink at you when Jisung entered the room to sit on your desk, you were completely sure that he had schemed against you.

    “So…” He began, glancing at you uneasily “You and Minho, hm?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest to pretend to look unbothered “Were you planning to confess all along?” He asked curiously, and you couldn’t help but look at him flabbergasted.

    “What are you talking about?” You blurted “Minho and I are just friends”

    “Oh? Did you give all of your friends a box of chocolate saying that you loved them?” He sulked “I mean, I didn’t get any boxes” He shrugged, looking at you in wonder, seeming too afraid to voice his inner thoughts yet bold enough to stare straight into your eyes to look for some answers.

    There was a silent moment that felt like a switch.

    You swallowed dry, unsure if now was a good time to confess your feelings. That wasn’t going as you had planned at all… Your plans were quite simple: Convince Jisung to go out with you, bring him to the fancy place he always wanted to go to but didn’t have the money to, dress up nicely to look alluring under the dim lights, share a piece of cheesecake ─ not only because you couldn’t afford two pieces but also because it was more romantic ─, and finally confess your undying love for your best friend.

    Easy peasy.

    Thanks to Minho, though, all of your plans were going down the drain.

     Instead of going out to a fancy place, you were standing in a dusty empty classroom. Instead of dressing up nicely, you were wearing simple clothes that he was used to seeing you in, therefore being too common to look alluring at all. Instead of being under dim lights, you were standing under the sunset’s orangish lights, which were bound to enhance all the traits you didn’t want him to pay attention to. Instead of sharing a piece of cheesecake and being romantic, you were standing in an uncomfortable silence beside each other, wrapped in a lie that must be cleared up.

    Instead of confessing your undying love for your best friend, you were chickening out.

    As you drown yourself in your torrent of thoughts and doubts, you were oblivious to the current state of mind your best friend and romantic interest was at the moment.

    Han Jisung prided himself on being a pretty chill human being, having nice dreams (that he always referred to as goals, because he was settled on making them real), and owning enough courage to chase whatever he wanted to accomplish. Unfortunately for him, you could throw every single one of those things out of the window just by glancing at him with a smile, making his heart burst inside his chest and his limbs turn into pudding. You made him a coward with nice dreams that he didn’t have enough courage to pursue.

    Dreams that haunted his head.

    He was too close yet too far away from them. Each time he held your hand or interlocked his arm with yours as you made your way to your favorite places… Each time you threw him a look that seemed something more but not really… Each time you said you loved him… Each time you acted as if he was special to you… Each time he couldn’t understand if he was just a friend or something more under your eyes… All of those times felt like he was too close and yet too far away from his dreams; searching and gripping on thin air that was bound to slip through his fingers.

    He could never grasp it, no matter how hard he tried to.

    Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was seeing too much or too little. Did you really give Minho a box filled with chocolate that spelled ‘I Love U’ because you guys were friends? Was he wrong for thinking that going out with you on Valentine’s Day sounded a bit too intimate for a best friend thing? Should he be so worried about whether or not you gave a box to each one of your friends except him? Should it make his heart rum against his chest like that? Did that box mean you liked Minho? Or did it mean that you may like him?

    The poor boy was freaking out.

    “Did you?” He repeated himself, and you were honestly too lost inside your mind to remember what he had asked you sooner. You stared at him blankly, blinking a few times and letting your mouth open a little, licking your lips before looking around the room as if you were looking for some answers.

    “Did I- What? What did I do?” You asked bewildered, widening your eyes as he made his way to you, holding your arms firmly yet gently, locking his eyes with yours. He seemed to be engulfed in brand new determination, eyes fiercely looking for any signs on yours that could finally clarify his doubts and fears. You gulped down, feeling your throat too dry as he stared for your lips, and the sudden realization that your mouth tasted like chocolate made you wonder if he would enjoy kissing you like this.

    “Did you give each one of the guys a chocolate box telling you loved them?” He asked again, and you opened and closed your mouth a few times. That was it. If you answered him now, all of your confession plans would definitely go down the drain. If you didn’t answer him now, you may not even have the chance to confess at all.

    “I did” You answered, voice trembling as you tried to gather enough courage to confess to him. It wasn’t what you were planning, and you didn’t feel prepared to do it right now. But would you ever feel like it was the right time? Or would you keep running away till you lost your shot? “I gave each one of my friends a chocolate box” You emphasized, noticing how he gulped down in expectation, eyes wavering as he searched for something inside yours.

    “You didn’t get me one” He said carefully, chest going up and down as his uneven breath warmed your face.

    “I didn’t” You agreed, too scared to explain why; breath mingling with his.

    “Is it because I’m more than a friend?” He asked, making your heart go at an insanely fast rate “Please, don’t say yes if you’re going to say I’m your best friend” He pleaded in a small voice, feeling too scared to look into your eyes. You gasped, hands going to cup his cheeks to make sure he would be looking at you when you finally said it. You rubbed circles on his soft skin, fighting the urge to pinch his round cheek and wetting your lips as you looked into his eyes.

    “Yes, that’s because –“ You began to whisper but was promptly interrupted.

    “For Lord’s sake! Just kiss already” Minho groaned from the outside, making both of you snap your heads to the window, catching a glimpse of a hand pulling someone’s head down just on time.

    “Shhh! Don’t interrupt them! It took them ages to confess!” Chan hissed from somewhere under the sill.

    You sighed along with Jisung, walking towards the window to lean there, glaring at the seven guys that grinned sheepishly at you, rubbing their nape in embarrassment. Minho was the first one to recover, getting up and stretching like a cat as if he didn’t just interrupt your long-awaited kiss with Jisung. He smirked at you obnoxiously, shrugging as he picked up the last piece of chocolate on his box ─ the heart-shaped one ─, shoving it inside Jisung’s mouth and grinning widely.

    “Okay, all set! Dickhead loves you too” He patted your shoulder, talking quickly as if to confuse you “Chocolate flavored kiss, that’s my gift for both of you! Congratulation for finally realizing that you should be together all along and everything all of us were painfully aware of! Please don’t chase or beat us up!” He nudged the guys around, prompting them to get away from the window “You may kiss the bride or whatever” He offered, turning around to run away with them.

    You and Jisung scoffed, watching them running away.

    “Should we chase them?” You asked amusedly, glancing at him.

    “Maybe tomorrow we can smack their heads or something… I have to make better use of my time than that on my first Valentine with my girlfriend” He shrugged, smirking when you got all flustered at the mention of your new relationship status “May I kiss the bride?” He asked jokingly, pulling you closer by your waist.

    “As many times you want” You chuckled, leaning in for a kiss.

[mamahersh]

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions)

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, blood, gore) <--- later chapters, this one’s clean.

Welcome to my first attempt at Ethoslab angst! I wanted an nHo-centric fic with a heavy dose of Etho angst. I have nowhere else to post this, and fair warning I am terrible at characterizations, so everyone will probably be a bit OOC to some extent; but for sure EvilX will be very OOC in how evil he is in this one. The Rating for the later chapters is a solid M, so be warned about that. If y’all have suggestions or feedback, feel free to come and say hi! P.S. I got my inspiration for this fic from this fic over here! Give them some love too.

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Chapter 1 (below the cut)

BDoubleO was worried. 

Now, it wasn’t often he worried, particularly about Etho. Especially after the shenanigans from Season 5 with the nHo, and their many years of collaboration after that, he was well aware that Etho had a habit of disappearing for weeks on end. Even when he was supposed to be helping with a bit of collaboration work like the Horse Course, he was infamous for suddenly disappearing for a week, and coming back acting like nothing had happened. But even still, Etho usually left a note, or told someone about where he was going so they at least knew when to approximately expect him to show back up. This time though, Etho hadn’t even left Iskall a note, and so far this season he had made sure to at least leave a note for Iskall since they were sharing a base. (BDoubleO had asked Iskall 3 days after the last time he had seen Etho to ask if he knew where Etho was. Iskall didn’t know, though he had seen him 2 days previously puttering around their shared base as normal.) He had asked around the other Hermits, seeing if anyone had heard anything. The only one that had seen anything was Beef, who had said he had seen Etho lurking on the edges of his territory heading toward the top of BDubs’ mountain with a spyglass about a day and a half ago. Doc had mentioned that while he hadn’t seen Etho recently, he had heard that Etho had been busy in talks with Xisuma and Evil Xisuma over something. However, when BDubs questioned Xisuma, he said he hadn’t seen Etho since the last major server meeting. (It was always disconcerting when Hermits’ stories didn’t match up, as that usually meant there were shenanigans afoot. But BDubs couldn’t figure out why there would be shenanigans afoot, because this was just Etho.)

A whinny from Lulu beneath him startled BDubs out of his worries. Looking around he realized that they were already staring up at Xisuma’s lighthouse and general base area. Why were they there you might ask? (A theoretical from a theoretical, truly meta of him, aha) WELL, Xisuma had sent out a message to the server that everyone should come and gather at his base for an important something. BDubs was confused, and very concerned, that Xisuma was insisting on the meeting being in person. After all, any news could be dispensed through the Server messages, and all their bases were known, so boards could be placed at bases for Hermits to see as they came in and out. Meeting in person was never technically necessary, though it made it generally easier to talk with each other since they didn’t have to type everything out. The point stood however, that unless it was an emergency, Xisuma never called a general Hermit assembly outside of their regularly scheduled monthly meetings. 

Looking around, BDubs was able to see that Beef was already there, along with most of the Boatem Crew, and surprisingly enough, the Horsehead Farms guys were there as well. Of course, Doc was on his way, and last he heard, the Big Eye crew was following up behind him since they both had been busy when the announcement had gone out. The rest of the server would be on their way because of how far out they were. (Part of BDubs wondered if those who were coming in later were the lucky ones. The rest of him wondered why he was so filled with anxiety and so certain this meeting was only going to be terrible.) Deciding nothing good would come of dwelling on the negatives, he made his way over to where Beef (who was looking more unrecognizable by the day as the alien contamination overtook him) was standing alone, seemingly keeping his eye out for someone or something.

“Hey Beef!” BDubs called out, smiling and waving as he approached. Beef looked over at the sudden shouting of his name, and instantly relaxed as he saw BDubs approaching. “Hey BDubs!” he called back, something alien layered under his normal voice. (It spoke of void and distant stars, though Tango had recently been saying it reminded him more of sulfur and brimstone). “You know anything about why Xisuma’s called this meetup?” asked Beef before BDubs could ask the question himself.

“Not a clue,” BDubs replied, allowing his concern to show through as he stood ill-at-ease beside his friend. “He just announced he had something he wanted to show or talk to us about I guess, though I can’t imagine what it could be about.” Well, BDubs had a guess or two, but none of them were generally pleasant topics of conversation, outside of some surprise announcement for the next server update to 1.18.

“Darn, I was hoping you would have heard something…” said Beef, his own unease easy to read. BDubs shrugged, looking around at the other groups of players standing outside the Lighthouse. It looked like even in the short time they had been greeting each other, the other Big Eyed Crew had arrived on his tailwind. An awkward pause settled between the two of them, both having been so tied up in their own shenanigans to really know what the other had been up to. BDubs debated bringing up the obvious, but it seemed like one of those things you don’t necessarily bring up. But then again… 

“Yo Beef,” said BDubs, turning to look at Beef again. Beef startled out of his momentary reverie. “You’ve been looking pretty, uh… green recently. How’s that been treating you?”

For a moment Beef looked almost confused, before he seemed to connect the dots and snorted. “Oh yeah, it’s been treating me great, as you can see.” They both chuckled a bit at his sarcasm before he continued. “But in all seriousness, I hadn’t really been noticing it. I mean, I definitely notice that people have been giving me a wider berth this season, which hasn’t been great for business since I have a great idea for selling specialty cat food I can make on my alien ship. I haven’t personally noticed too many changes outside my appearance thus far however.” After a moment Beef said, “So how about you? How have Keralis and Tango been treating you this season?”

BDubs chuckled. “Would you believe it if I told you it’s been going great? I have a mountain already, and we have a small bay town we’re building up to serve as a shopping district for our Big Eye Crew. Plus, we got Tango to actually make his eyes big, so it’s a win all around! Though I’ve been noticing more Derpcoin sneaking into our shops…” 

“Hey now, what’s wrong with Derpcoin?!” exclaimed Beef, looking vaguely offended. BDubs was startled by this, completely not expecting such an outburst from Beef of all people.

“I mean, there’s nothing necessarily wrong with it, it’s just I have no idea what the conversion rate is on the stuff, so I don’t know what people are paying in my shop for the items they’re buying,” replied BDubs. “Plus, there’s nowhere to use it.”

“But there is a place to use it! You could use it at EX’s Evil Emporium. Plus, with more people signing up for Derpcoin, it seems like a lucrative market to sell in,” countered Beef, a strange gleam in his eyes. “EX was nice enough to give me an in into his Derpcoin shopping district, so I’ll have a storefront through the Evil Emporium.” 

"Evil Emporium huh?" BDubs made a considering noise. "Heard a little bit about it back when EX was doing a little sales pitch in our neck of the woods. Seems pretty fishy to me, but if you think it's a trustworthy establishment, I'll definitely give it a second look."

"Attention everyone!" called out Xisuma, suddenly standing in the center of the gathered Hermits. "Your attention please!" BDubs looked over to where X was waving everyone over. He noticed that X seemed abnormally forward, though that could be attributed to his paranoia. Afterall, X wasn’t one to cause problems! Sure he had been trying to get people on board with this Evil Emporium thing pretty hard, but X couldn’t hurt a fly even on a good day, so BDubs wondered if this wasn’t about Derpcoin.

He had been hearing from the other Big-Eyed crew that tensions between Boatem and the Derpcoin empire had been slowly escalating over the last week or so. Plus he had been hearing about more of the unaffiliated Hermits beginning to create close ties with EX’s brand, embracing Derpcoin as their main currency even! On the other hand, he’d been hearing from some of the Boatem people about how they were getting sick and tired of finding Derpcoin in their shops, and seemingly some people were beginning to refuse to pay for items with diamonds… There was a mess brewing for sure in the background this season, it just seemed like an issue that could wait till the next monthly meeting is all.

With a jolt, BDubs was brought back to the present as Doc bumped him in the shoulder. “How are you doing BDubs? Looking pretty lost in thought there, big guy.” 

“Well, doing pretty good if you must ask!” BDubs puffed up with the compliment on his height, despite knowing it was more than likely meant in a sarcastic manner. Between Doc and Etho, BDubs never really could catch a break. “You just get here then?”

Doc let out a rumbly hum in agreement. “Yesss, though I have no idea why Xisuma called the meeting. Know anything?”

BDubs and Beef both shook their heads. “We’re in the dark as much as you are, it seems,” replied Beef, moving towards the other Hermits to try and get their little group to walk and talk.

“I have a theory though!” continued BDubs, leaning in to act somewhat more conspiratorially. Doc leaned in a bit more than he needed to, getting a friendly bump on the head from Beef. “See, I’m sure you’ve both heard a bit more than I have about Boatem vs the Evil Emporium. I think things might be heating up enough between the two that X might be forced to intervene soon.” BDubs rubbed the back of his neck. “Admittedly, it still seems like the kind of thing that he would bring up in the monthly meeting instead of an impromptu meeting like this.”

“Looks like we don’t have to wait long to find out in any case.” Beef gestured at the surrounding Hermits and Xisuma himself still standing at the center looking official as usual. (Though BDubs thought he looked a little dazed, but he shoved the thought aside.)

“Thank you everyone for taking time out for this meeting!” called out Xisuma, his face still disconcertingly empty. “I’ve called you together today because EX had a stream he wanted us all to watch, and I agree it is most imperative we all watch it together.”

BDubs did not like the sound of this one bit. “What’s the stream about?” called Joe from the opposite side of the crowd.

“Yeah, why’s it so important we all have to watch it?” asked Cleo from beside him. BDubs realized that those two had had to travel across the entire continent to come to the meeting, and Joe was still renouncing wings, so taking long trips was a distinct hassle. At the very least, it was far more time consuming than everyone else’s trips had been, minus potentially XB and Hypno’s trip.

Xisuma seemed to stand there taking it silently, which was not necessarily outside of the usual, but his response certainly was. “With that out of the way, I’ll get the screen set up, and then we can watch EX’s stream!” ‘That was strange,’ thought BDubs as he looked around the circle of bewildered Hermits. Normally X would try to answer questions, or at least let them know things precisely before he did them. It was incredibly out of character that he would just ignore Joe and Cleo like that… Particularly Joe and Cleo if BDubs was to be brutally honest. Those three had been closer than three peas in a pod since Season 2, and Joe and X had known each other pretty well since almost the start of Season 1. To have those two brushed off by Xisuma struck a wrong chord.

BDubs was pulled back to the present as Xisuma rapidly typed into his communicator, and a holographic screen projected just beyond the circle of Hermits behind where Cub was standing. Almost as one, the Hermits turned to look at it, curiosity overpowering any potential feelings of lingering confusion and discomfort.

Xisuma’s expression was blank as the large screen buzzed to life in front of them. However, BDubs’ watched as he seemed to come back to himself just as the static on the screen cleared and the assembled hermits gasped in disbelief and horror.

‘Well,’ thought BDubs to himself, dread rising like a wave about to swallow him whole. ‘Now we know where Etho went.’ For there on the screen, looking the worst BDubs had ever seen him, was a restrained Etho beside a seemingly gleeful EvilXisuma.

[quanticowrites]

Friends over orders (Douglas Hamilton x Reader)

•• Hey everybody! I'm back with another fic and this time it's my first Hamilton fic! I hope you all enjoy! 💕••

Stakeouts were always a mixed bag. Some were boring as well while others you couldn't keep your eyes off the computer. Other times called for different tactics, like say using someone's crush on you as leverage. Even if you hated betraying someone close to you.

“Dwayne, isn't there another way to get information on Douglas’s supposed coverup?” You say supposed because frankly, Dwayne had a blind eye towards Douglas. He always has since your college days together. One moment they're the best of friends and the next they barely speak and leave you in the dark. He shrugged.

“I don't like it any more than you do (y/n) but-”

“That's a lie and you know it!” You interjected. “You hate Douglas just like your daddy hated his daddy.” He held his mouth open for a moment before ultimately deciding better and ended up sighing. “Just hook up my wire so I'm not late.”

You arrived at the restaurant and smiled at the sight of Douglas licking his hand and smoothing down a loose hair on his forehead in the restaurant window.

“You know I've seen you in a tutu, right?” He jumped at your voice before laughing.

“So did half the university. If I remember right I ran all the way down the boulevard after we won states.” He held out his arm and you intertwined yours with his as you walked in. You were at least happy you had the power of when to turn on the wire, that way you could take this chance to talk to Douglas about other things that had been looming on your mind. The hostess led you to the table and he ordered a bottle of your favorite bottle of wine.

“How's the life of the Mayor been, Douglas?” You started. You weren't going to jump into the case first thing. If Dwayne was going to force you to do this, then you were gonna enjoy yourself. He laughed and took a sip of wine.

“Nothing compared to what you deal with on a daily basis, I'm sure.” He smirked. “How's working with Ol’ Dwayne?” You scoffed.

“As much of a pain in the ass as ever.” You looked out at the other patrons of the restaurant. “But he does great work for the people of this city.” Douglas crossed his arms and you rolled your eyes. “You are too, Douglas.” You shifted from joking to serious. “Don't let anyone tell you differently. Especially Dwayne. Hey,” You licked your lips. Was right now a good time to bring it up? “Can I ask you something...personal.” He sent you a quizzical look.

“I guess.”

“What exactly happened between you and Dwayne in college?” He averted his eyes.

“Has Dwayne said anything?”

“No, I've never brought it up to him. I know he won't tell me anything because he knows I'm still close friends with you.” He nodded.

“Well,” He sighed. “You know he and I were...partners.” You nodded. “I thought everything was going great until he met this girl named Linda at a party one night.” He took a large gulp of his wine. “The rest kind of explains itself.” You sort of remember what happened next. One night Douglas and Dwayne were thick as thieves, the next they would barely speak to one another. That must have been after Dwayne started dating Linda. “When he and Linda split up, I thought I could reconcile, but he's just had it out for me ever since I got into political office like my father.” You kicked his leg from under the table and smirked when he jumped. “Ow! That was my shin!” He kicked back and you jumped.

“Hey! I didn't kick you nearly as hard.”

The rest of dinner was quiet. You both ate your meals and had a few drinks, remembering your college days together. He walked with you down to the riverfront and you realized, you'd never turned your mic on. Dwayne was going to be pissed that you didn't get anything out of him, but what could you do? If you started asking questions he'd clam up faster than an actual clam would. You felt the knot in your stomach as you reluctantly turned on the mic.

“It's re-election year, Douglas.” You said to catch his attention, he slowed his walk to be right beside you. “How are you going to sway me for my vote?” You poked him in the ribs and he laughed. “What's your sales pitch? What will you do to make this city better?” He put his hands up defensively.

“Alright! Alright.” He cleared his throat and motioned his arm around.

“Dear people of New Orleans, for too long have we suffered from the effects of Katrina. Communities are still rebuilding. We have a great opportunity for us, from the United States Navy.” He smiled. “Let's show the Navy they should pick New Orleans for their new naval shipyard!” You had to hold in a gasp as you turned the mic off. You'd gotten what Dwayne wanted. “So?”

“I say New Orleans isn't getting a new mayor for quite some time.” He led you up to the curb and a car pulled up. Douglas’s assistant, Stone, stepped out of the car. He gave you a hard stare before looking to Douglas.

“We need to talk.” Douglas nodded.

“I'm sorry to leave you like this, (y/n).” He leaned over and kissed your cheek before climbing into the car. Stone got back into the driver's side. “How about I make it up to you Friday night? Drinks on me.” You hummed, putting a finger to your lips.

“I might have to move some things around but I think I can squeeze that into my schedule.” He rolled his eyes, he'd told you that multiple times over the years.

“Alright.” He laughed. “See you then. Can you make it home from here?” You smiled.

“I'll be fine, Douglas.” Stone drove away and you pulled the mic out from under your clothes. You looked around before turning the record button on again. You let it record some silence before stopping it, recording over Douglas’s shipyard statement. Dwayne didn't need to know. What harm could a shipyard bring? It made you wonder where they'd put it, but that was a thought for a different time. Right now, you were going to go home and watch some TV and relax. Dwayne wasn't going to be happy with you tomorrow, but that's tomorrow’s problem.

Tag list: @stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm ,@emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything

[chicgeekgirl89]

Puzzles and Limes and Family Times

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Summary: Parenting kids is tough. Growing up and parenting your parents is even harder. Luckily T.K. and Carlos have each other to help figure things out. A post-ep for 2x11 "Slow Burn." Thanks to @bluenet13 for the help with the spicy food stuff and for inspiring what will likely be a prequel. And for just generally always being a supportive friend! 

                                   XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“How about a book?” Carlos asked.

T.K. shook his head. “He has books. I want something different. Something that will really distract him.”

“I still think a couple DVD’s might do the trick,” Carlos told him. 

“He has every streaming service known to man. If he can’t find it on one of those, it’s probably not worth watching.”

“T.K. as nice as it is that you want to get your dad a gift for his surgery, maybe we should think about it a little more since you don’t seem to know what you want.”

They’d circled the aisles of Target more than once, T.K. turning down every one of Carlos’ suggestions. “I just want something that’s going to keep him busy,” T.K. said. “He’s terrible at sitting still. I’m afraid if we don’t do something he’ll try and run a half marathon three days after surgery and kill himself.”

“Babe I don’t think there’s anything in the world that’s going to keep your dad recovering the way you want,” Carlos said. “He’s kind of a strong willed guy.”

T.K. sighed and turned the cart into the next aisle. “I know. I know, I just have to at least try.” He paused and grabbed a box off the nearest shelf. “What about this?”

Carlos raised his eyebrows. “A puzzle? Your dad doesn’t strike me as someone with the patience for puzzles.”

“Exactly. Maybe this will help him learn some. And,” T.K. tapped the box for emphasis, “this one has dogs playing poker on it. He loves dogs and poker.”

“That is true,” Carlos said, keeping his tone even and his expression neutral.

T.K. shot him a look of fond exasperation. “I know you’re humoring me but I’m going to pretend that was genuine.”

“And now you can humor me by picking out new towels,” Carlos said with a grin.

T.K. groaned. “I thought we already picked new towels.”

“We picked new master bath towels. We need some to match the guest bath.” Carlos grabbed his hand, towing him along toward the home goods aisles. 

“I didn’t realize you were going to use my moving in as an excuse to redecorate the entire condo,” T.K. said.

“I want it to feel like our place.” Carlos stopped and picked up a washcloth. “How do we feel about cream?”

“I feel like towels are towels. Especially in the guest bath.”

Carlos rolled his eyes and moved further down the row. “We have guests coming next week. Everything needs to be perfect.”

“Speaking of which, are you sure you want to invite my dad to dinner with your parents?” T.K. asked as Carlos silently debated the merits of blue versus off-white towels. 

Carlos looked at him in surprise. “He’s your dad. Of course I want him there.”

“It’s just…he can be…a lot sometimes,” T.K. said. 

Carlos raised his eyebrows and T.K. held up a finger in warning. “If you say I’m also a lot sometimes I’m taking the keys and leaving you here to Uber home.”

His boyfriend smiled and turned back to the towels. “My parents want to meet him. And your dad is very charming.” He looked at T.K., eyes sparkling with mirth. “Just like you.”

Now it was T.K.’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Besides,” Carlos said, dropping the blue towels into the cart, “having your dad there will take some of the attention off of me so my mom doesn’t tell every, single embarrassing story about my childhood. Instead your dad and my dad can try to one-up each other talking about crazy calls they’ve been on.”

T.K. wasn’t convinced yet. “He’s just really not been himself lately. And I have no idea what his mood is going to be like post-surgery. I don’t want him to leave a bad impression with your parents.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, it would be good for your dad to get out of the house. Be around family.”

T.K. sighed. “I guess at least if he’s with us I’ll know he’s safe. And it will give him something to do to keep his mind off how bored he is.”

“I thought that was what the puzzle was for,” Carlos said with a teasing grin as they walked toward the checkout.

T.K. sent him a withering look. “Just let me pretend it’s going to work and not sit on a shelf in the closet until the next time he has a garage sale. It makes me feel better.”

Carlos nudged him good-naturedly. “I will let you keep your delusion.” He stopped pushing the cart and leaned against the handle. “But it’s going to cost you.”

T.K. took a step closer and bit his lip. “Oh is it?” he asked, wondering exactly how randy Carlos was going to get in the kitchen appliance aisle. 

“Yep.” Carlos grinned. “We’re having camarones a la diabla for dinner tonight.”

T.K.’s face fell. “What? No! Come on I already looked at towels with you!”

Carlos just smiled and sauntered away with the cart, leaving T.K. alone in the middle of the aisle to hurry after him. “Okay but only a little spicy all right? Not ‘accidentally almost kill T.K. spicy’ like last time?”

“That was your own fault and you know it,” Carlos called back.

T.K. huffed. “That’s exactly why we don’t need a repeat!”

Carlos stopped and let him catch up. “If we’re going to live together we have to build up your tolerance to heat. Don’t worry,” he said, patting T.K.’s cheek, “I’ll be gentle.”

T.K. eyed him warily. “Nice try Reyes. I know behind that smile is a conniving, spice loving, diabolical monster.”

“What if I promise you homemade ice cream for dessert?”

“What because I’m a five-year-old and can be bribed to eat my dinner?” T.K. asked.

Carlos cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Fine,” T.K. said grudgingly. “But I want chocolate.”

“Then chocolate it is.”

                                XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. had never seen his boyfriend panicked before. Upset yes, excited for sure, but the most emotionally intense his mild mannered boyfriend typically got was moderately annoyed. Tonight however, he seemed like he might actually be about to lose his shit. And as intrigued as T.K. was to see where that might lead, a little voice in his head reminded him that Carlos losing his shit five minutes before his parents were due to arrive was probably not going to leave a favorable impression.

“Where are the tortilla chips?” Carlos asked, his voice sharp and pitched a note or two higher than usual. “I thought you picked them up on your way home today.”

“Right here,” T.K. said smoothly, opening the cupboard and pulling out the bag of homemade chips he’d purchased from a favorite restaurant down the street.

“And you told them to make the guacamole fresh right?”

“Yes, I stood there for fifteen minutes while the guy went out and hand picked the avocados,” T.K. said, trying not to let too much amusement color his tone.

Over the last few days the tension in their home seemed to have changed direction. As T.K. had grown more comfortable with the idea of his dad coming for dinner, (despite the one minor, running into a burning building incident that T.K. was trying not to think about) Carlos had gotten increasingly tense. 

The condo, always in a state of near perfect cleanliness now sparkled like something out of a magazine. And the list of instructions Carlos had left for T.K. to complete after his shift had been so detailed and exact that T.K. wondered if he’d stayed up all night writing it. Personally he thought that doing a deep clean of the refrigerator and painting over scuffs on the baseboards was a little bit of overkill, but he’d done as asked. Now, as he watched his boyfriend dart from one side of the kitchen to the other in a slightly manic state, he was wondering if he might need to intervene. 

Carlos pushed past him to take the perfectly made guacamole out and put it in a bowl. “Did you put a clean hand towel in the bathroom? The blue one?”

“Blue? I thought you said black.”

Carlos froze and glowered at him. “I’m kidding,” T.K. said, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Blue towel is freshly laundered and in the bathroom. I’m not sure exactly how the color of a hand towel could ruin the evening but I certainly didn’t want to risk finding out.”

Carlos’ face dropped a bit, emotional exhaustion pulling at him. “I know I’m being crazy.”

“Oh I think we surpassed crazy about two hours ago when you were picking individual pieces of lint off the throw pillows,” T.K. said with an amused smile. “Relax. Tonight is going to be great. You’re making a damn soufflé. How could anyone not be impressed by that?”

“Maybe I should have gone with something more traditional,” Carlos said, running an agitated hand through his curls for the hundredth time that evening. “My parents are traditional people. But your dad is coming so I wanted to pull out all the stops.” He peered through the oven door at the soufflé. “Maybe I should have done the beef. I’m going to take it out just in case.”

“Carlos, Carlos whoa, hey,” T.K. stopped him by putting his hands on his shoulders. “The soufflé is going to be great. Everyone is going to love it. Do not take that beef out of the refrigerator.”

Carlos’ eyes widened. “Oh my god I forgot to put the ice trays in the freezer!”

“Whoa, hey, nope,” T.K. held on a little tighter and didn’t let him go. “You asked me to do that this morning. Let’s just go sit for a minute—“

“I need to—“

“What you need to do is take a few deep breaths and get yourself together,” T.K. told him, pushing him gently onto a bar stool.

“I just want it to be perfect.”

“Babe I know. But it’s not going to be. Nothing ever is, so you need to let got of that expectation. It will be a great dinner because everyone who’s coming loves you and wants you to be happy.”

Carlos slumped a bit, mussing his curls a little more with his hands. “I’m nervous.”

“I know. But I’m going to be right beside you the whole night. And nothing your parents say is going to make me upset. Or want to leave.” T.K. leaned a little closer as Carlos deliberately avoided making eye contact. “That’s what you’re really worried about right? Not that they’ll say something to make you upset, but that they might hurt me?”

Carlos chewed at the inside of his lip and covered T.K.’s hands with his own, twining their fingers together nervously. “They just might not be as careful with their words as I want them to be. Sometimes they speak without thinking. They have old biases, things from church and the family…”

T.K. brought one of Carlos’ hands up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I know the difference between willful hate and accidental ignorance. I’m not worried.” He ran a hand through Carlos’ hair, fixing some of the damage he’d done to himself. “And nothing, not even rude parents or a fallen soufflé, would ever make me want to leave you.”

T.K. watched as some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. “I love you,” Carlos said quietly.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, squeezing his hand.

There was a knock on the door and Carlos sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

T.K. leaned forward so their lips met in a sweet kiss. “Absolutely.”

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

reputations

summary: you’re criminally good, and Matt can’t help but fall in love with you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.7k

note from the writer: I really wrote this in one night, immediately after posting my last Matt fic. I might have a problem. lmk what you think!

part two

Matthew knew he was no angel. If it wasn’t the opposing players he pested on a daily basis, it was the media that told him so. Most of the time, he didn’t mind. Fights, penalties, and suspensions—he couldn’t help but agree that he was a pest on the ice. He knew he deserved some of the shit he got, but he was getting better and growing as a player.

But sometimes he wished he had a better reputation.

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Matt hated that he knew who Brady was talking about. Despite the fact that it had been seemingly forever since he was in an actual relationship, Brady’s tease made perfect sense to the entire Tkachuk family.

“Shut up.” Matt shot back, because he couldn’t argue, and he was too busy getting up off the couch and heading outside to listen to the jabs his brother was throwing at him. He was too far gone and had long since admitted that to himself.

The summer sun beat down on him the moment he stepped into the backyard, and he took a moment to squint his eyes to adjust before heading over to the fence separating his backyard from the one next door. Brady had been telling the truth, the one girl he couldn’t get off his mind since middle school was outside and the wide smile that grew on his face was one he couldn’t help.

You were as good as they came. Weekends spent volunteering at animal shelters, tutoring, helping the older couples in the neighborhood with yard work and other chores. He was pretty sure the moment he decided he wanted to marry you was when you had shown up to Taryn’s first varsity field hockey game with a giant sign saying something about how she would kill it just because you knew it would make her laugh.

Matt nearly tripped when he spotted you on the other side of the fence. You were suntanning in nothing more than a bikini, laying on a towel in the grass in your own backyard. For what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime, Matt thanked whatever higher power that was up there that his family moved into the house next to yours all those years ago.

For a second, he stayed quiet, just admiring how good you looked. Sunglasses were perched on your nose as you laid on your back, arms tucked behind your head. Your music was playing softly from the speaker laying in the grass a few feet away and you were humming along quietly. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face as he studied you, resting his forearms along the top of the fence with his chin tucked on top of his hands. He knew he needed to make his presence known, figuring he wouldn’t be able to explain why he kept quiet and watched you tan without sounding like a creep.

“I’ve been home for two days and you haven’t come see me yet?” He teased, his grin growing two sizes when he spotted how you lit up at the sound of his voice. Your smile was infectious, and it was the only thing keeping his gaze north of your chest as you sat up on the towel.

“Matty!” You cheered, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. You were the only person that Matt allowed to call him that, and he was certain that if his teammates ever found that out they would never let him hear the end of it. You stood up, making your way towards Matt and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest as you got closer. It was a miracle you hadn’t managed to kill him yet.

“How’ve you been?” Matt found himself asking, though the question felt a little pointless. He knew how you had been, you texted daily and even the stuff you didn’t tell him—which was a rare occurrence—he found out from his siblings.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You said boredly, waving a hand dismissively. Matt knew that wasn’t true, he could see the smile you were suppressing. Plus, all of his conversations with you as of late had been about one thing.

“Congrats on graduating, by the way.” Matt wasn’t sure it was possible, but your smile widened as he spoke. You looked happy, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that was bubbling inside him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You squeezed his forearm from where it was resting on the fence, and it took all of Matt’s willpower to not melt under your touch. “You were busy chasing the cup, and I know for a fact that you’ll win it for me next time.”

And then you jokingly winked at him, and suddenly Matt forgot how to breathe. He knew you were teasing, but the fact of the matter was that he knew if he was going to win the cup for anyone besides his parents, it was you.

“And besides, you’re coming to my grad party, right? I need someone there to save me from my relatives asking about where I’m working in the fall.” You continued, and for the second time in ten minutes Matt had been interrupted from his thoughts.

“You don’t already have seven jobs lined up?” Matt teased you. For as long as he could remember, you were always ten steps ahead of everyone. He distinctly remembers you stressing out at eleven years old because you got a seventy-five on a test and thought it would go on your permanent record and you wouldn’t get accepted into college.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as the both of you chuckled. Matt felt a bit repetitive, thinking about how beautiful you were. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. His self-control was low to begin with, but throw you into the mix and he was absolutely done for. “I’ve applied to a few places, interviewed at some. I’ve got my eye on one place, though.”

“Any places I know?” Matt was a little caught off guard since he hadn’t heard about you applying. He knew you were looking into some places, some in St. Louis and some out of state, but he didn’t realize you started taking the next step. A nervous look flashed in your eyes, and Matt wondered what could have prompted it, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, and you were back to smiling brightly at him.

“And ruin the surprise when I finally land one of the jobs? Not a chance, Hotshot.” You teased with a shake of your head. Matt knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how you liked your coffee and that you hated when he got into fights. He knew that you were a romantic and that you were a little self conscious about your laugh because when you were fifteen and Danny Baker from three streets up told you he thought it was weird. That was the closest he ever got to punching someone off of the ice—and sometimes he still thought about giving the guy a piece of his mind.

And he knew that the nickname ‘Hotshot’ was your way of trying to deflect, and he knew enough to drop the subject. Not that he had a choice, really, because your phone started buzzing from where you left it on your towel. When you bent down to pick it up, he busied himself by admiring the flowers he knew you helped your mom plant instead of blatantly checking out your ass.

“Hey. Matty, I’ve got to go. Mrs. Henderson asked if I could help her with the bake sale for her son’s soccer team.” You spoke up after checking your phone. Matt couldn’t help the way his heart flipped at the fact that you were still volunteering for families around the neighborhood. The only time he could remember actually volunteering, not including Flames events, was when he needed to fill his high school requirement to graduate.

God, you were too good for him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He waved as you retreated into your house. He watched as you left, only pushing off the fence and heading back into his own once you shut your back door. He made his way into the kitchen, finding his whole family already in there and looking at him with smug grins. Matt just knew they had been watching his entire interaction with you out of the kitchen window.

Brady was the first to speak up, making obnoxious kissing noises while Taryn started saying your name in increasingly higher pitched voices trying to mock how gone he was for you. He rolled his eyes at his sister, but that didn’t stop him from putting Brady into a headlock.

“If you boys break something…” His mom trailed off, giving her boys a pointed look over the glass of water she was sipping on. The empty threat was enough to get Matt to let go of his brother, but not before messing up his hair for that extra bit of pettiness.

“Leave Matt alone, he’s in love.” His dad teased, looking much too proud of himself at his comment for Matt’s liking. He groaned, dropping his back to further prove his annoyance before he grabbed a drink out of the fridge and left the room.

He still couldn’t argue his family’s comments.

Matt didn’t see you again until it was time to head over for your graduation party, and it took everything in him to not stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you across the yard. You were talking to a few of your extended family members, he was sure he had met them once or twice over the years, and you looked effortlessly stunning. You were wearing a new sundress, he was certain of that because if you had worn it before he would have remembered, what with the way it made your legs look, especially paired with what he knew were your favorite pair of wedges.

Brady knocked into his shoulder, sending him a smirk before slipping off to find a drink. Matt rolled his eyes at his brother, letting his attention fall back to you. His breath hitched as you turned to face him, and he wondered if you felt the weight of his stare. He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, because he recognized the look in your eyes. It was the one that told him those were the family members you told him you’d need rescuing from.

He crossed the lawn quickly, smiling warmly at your mom when she called his name and waved. He’d greet her properly later, you were his current priority. You were his priority all the time, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey, Matty.” You smiled and as soon as he got close enough your arm slid around his back. He copied your action, his hand settling a respectable distance up on your waist. Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, even though he probably shouldn’t be so blatant in his affection in front of distant family.

“Is this a boyfriend?” Your—great aunt?—questioned. Matt felt his face flush at the idea, he spent the better part of his adolescence imagining what it would be like to call you his. But he never could get himself to make a move. Too nervous to lose you and too worried about what moving away would do to your relationship—if it even got that far.

And then there was the problem of his reputation.

He had grown up watching you do all these amazing things for your education and to help other people. You always had a smile on your face and cried for an hour at the ending of Marley and Me. You even volunteered to help move Brady to Boston when he left to go play hockey there.

He pushed around six ounces of vulcanized rubber on ice. In his mind, he didn’t measure up to you in the slightest. As much as he wanted you, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

“No, this is just Matt, he lives next door.” You explained sweetly and Matt forced a smile on his face as he shook hands with your relatives. He hated how terrible your words sounded to his ears, how he was ‘Just Matt’ to you.

“Hey, Taryn said she needs to talk to you, it’s urgent.” Matt lied after a few moments of watching you squirm under the interrogation your relatives were putting you through. From the mischievous look in your eyes he could tell you knew what he was doing. You politely told your relatives that you would see them later, and Matt’s heart jumped in his chest as you slipped your hand into his to pull him away.

“Thank you.” You said to him under your breath, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as you reached the drink coolers. Matt grinned at you, watching as you pulled out two beers for the both of you. “They hit me with questions about my love life, job prospects, and whether or not I’ll be moving out of my parent’s house before you arrived.”

“Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Matt teased, taking a sip out of his bottle while watching you shudder playfully. He tried to ignore the green monster that settled in his stomach at the thought of you having a love life, no matter how selfish it sounded. Instead, he focused on the way you smiled at him, and how warmly you interacted with his mom when she came over to give you a celebratory hug.

Seeing you laughing with his mom was doing nothing for the feelings he had harboured for you.

By the time darkness started to settle on the party, the majority of the guests had left. Besides your parents, him and his siblings, and a few of your cousins that were spending the night, your backyard was empty. Your dad had started a campfire so everyone could make s’mores, and you seemed to think it was the best part of the day. You were probably feeling the effects of the beers you had been sipping on, though you only had one or two, and tried to feed Matt a s’more, giggling uncontrollably when you got marshmallow in the scruff of his beard.  

He just about died when you flicked your finger across his chin to collect the marshmallow, absentmindedly licking it off as you laughed at something Taryn said. His gaze zeroed in on your finger, and the fact that you had no idea the effect that you had on him was dizzying.

“Get a room.” Brady groaned, though he had been sitting next to Matt and spoke low enough that the parents sitting on the opposite side of the fire didn’t hear. Matt was also lucky that you didn’t hear, distracted by your phone ringing. He glanced at the screen out of habit and a little bit of nosiness, seeing that it was a number you didn’t have saved to your contacts before you jumped to your feet and retreated inside to take the call.

If he had been looking a little closer, he would have recognized that the number had an area code for Calgary.

You had been gone for a few minutes and Matt was starting to get restless. Your mom came out of the house and handed him two popsicles, one for him and one for you, so he figured you were coming back soon.

You did, and you were wearing a wide grin that made him curious. You didn’t say anything, instead you took one of the popsicles and slipped your hand into his now free one, tugging lightly to signal for him to stand up. Once more, you led him across the lawn, only this time you went around the house to the front yard, away from the prying eyes of both your families.

“What’s up?” Matt questioned as soon as you came to a stop in front of him. You were grinning up at him, and he could tell from the look in your eyes that you had news to share.

“I got a job. My top choice one, actually.” You stated as if it was something boring, like the weather. Matt beamed at you, the feeling of pride he had in you coming to the surface the same way it did whenever you accomplished something you wanted.

He wrapped you in his arms almost instantly, careful not to knock your popsicle out of your hand or get his in your hair. He held you tight to his chest, never wanting to let you go.

“Where is it?” He asked after letting you go. Your smile grew wider as he looked at you, and he raised a brow as you hesitated. The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want you to leave St. Louis. The best part of coming home during breaks or playing the Blues on their ice was the fact that he would get to see you.

“Calgary. Surprise?” You chuckled nervously, but Matt felt like he had just been told the best news. After years apart for college and hockey, you finally would be close to him again. He was ecstatic, and couldn’t help himself before pulling you into another hug,

“Surprise is right.” He teased as soon as he moved back, though he couldn’t get himself to go far. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the closer he was to you the better he felt. You were grinning, shifting from foot to foot and that simple action told Matt that you were anxious about something.

“But I have one more thing to share.” You said, and that worried Matt once more because he could hear the nervousness in your tone. Matt nodded, unable to get himself to form words in response and instead let his mind run wild with all the ideas about what it could be. “Matt, I, uh, well, I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I think you feel the same, well at least I hope you do, and I was kind of hoping that we could start something now that we’ll be living in the same place.”

Matt felt like passing out. Out of all the dozens of things you could have said, that was not one of them. He watched, wordlessly, as you licked the popsicle out of nerves and the need to busy yourself somehow while he stayed quiet after your confession. That seemed to spur him on, though, because he used his free hand to cup your jaw as his lips landed on yours.

You tasted like grape popsicle and chocolate, and though it was an odd combination he decided it was the best thing he’d ever had. He briefly registered that the popsicles slipped from both your hands as you gripped each other, and he knew that he’d have to pick them up after because you had drilled into him the importance of keeping the Earth clean when you were in eighth grade and went through a sustainability kick.

It was that thought that had him stilling. He couldn’t do this to you, not when you were so good and not when he was in the press every other week for being the very opposite. You deserved better than him, a philanthropist that donated all their time and money to children’s hospitals—the charity he knew you volunteered at, at least three times a year.

You were too good for him.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned him, dropping from your tip-toes back to your flat feet, putting some distance between you and him. It wasn’t enough to defog Matt’s head but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen for weeks, not with the way his entire body felt on fire from just your one kiss.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this to you.” Matt settled, though he hated the way he sounded so unsure of himself and he hated the very fact that he even had to say it. He hated that you felt the same way he did but he couldn’t do a thing about it because he had always put you before himself. But most of all, he hated how your face fell and your eyes started to get glassy.

“Do you not like me?” You questioned and if Matt wasn’t so defeated by the whole situation he would have laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like you, you plagued his thoughts on a daily basis and he had a framed photo of you and him from his first game in Calgary in his apartment that earned him so many chirps from his teammates. But you looked so proud of him, and you were wearing his jersey, so no matter what the boys said he kept it up—the photo was his most prized possession.

“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He told you, and somehow your face fell even more. Even when you were so clearly upset, the way your brows tugged together in confusion and the slight pout to your lips was devastatingly attractive to Matt.

“Then what is it?” Your question sounded so tired, so weak, that Matt wished he had never followed you out front and never put your friendship in the position it was. But it was too late now, he couldn’t back out now and he had to stick to his guns. He took in a shuddering breath, one hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before he said what he felt he had to.

“I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy with me. I’m not good for you.”

[quickspinner]

Month of Miracles Day 9 - Tradition

Find the prompt list here!

I’m mixing up the prompts a bit here because I had a plan for ‘Moments of Wonder’ that can’t happen until a little bit further on in the Hallmark AU. I was just gonna do the next prompt while I got a little bit ahead on the Hallmark ones since they tend to be longer, but...this one wouldn’t leave me alone and I didn’t have enough time today to do both. Honestly, I might not be able to keep up the one a day through the next week, but whatever I miss, I’ll catch up on Christmas week where we have some planned time off. 

Hallmark Movie AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3

Marinette understood why her mother thought this trip would do her good, but the truth was that she felt at loose ends rattling around in Gina’s old-fashioned but large house, all alone. At home, there was always somewhere to pitch in, something that needed doing. Gina kept her life pretty streamlined, and when she was home, she delighted in fixing up anything that might be out of sorts in her home. Gina was just too efficient, so other than keeping her plants alive, which really wasn’t that difficult since Gina kept mostly hardy breeds that could survive being left under the care of a neighbor for weeks at a time, there just wasn’t much for Marinette to do. 

Finally Marinette planted herself on the couch, set the TV to a channel covering the most recent fashion shows, and sat down to sketch. She’d have a lot of work to catch up on when she got home, so she might as well take advantage of some of this quiet time to get ahead. 

She sketched a few basic silhouettes to warm up and get the juices flowing, but after that...nothing came. Every time she started a line, she quickly rubbed about it again. Stop editing yourself, she scolded. Just get it out, and you can fix it later. 

It didn’t work. Everything she did felt wrong. Audrey’s complaints echoed in her mind. Too derivative, too pedestrian, where’s the art, Marinette? That’s why I hired you, and all you ever give me is this trash! Did I make a mistake bringing you on?

Did Audrey make a mistake? Marinette put down her sketchbook and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she dropped her face against her legs, fighting down the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed hard and tried to breathe. 

Okay. So she couldn’t draw right now. That was okay. She’d do...something else.

She got up, leaving her sketchbook on the couch and the television on, and went into the kitchen. She started pulling out ingredients without conscious thought, the spiral in her mind continuing until she actually stood in front of the mixer, measuring cups in hand. 

Marinette took a deep breath. She began measuring out ingredients, repeating the recipes in her head as she worked. This, at least, was something she could do. Nobody got all twisted up over cookies, after all. 

Well. Except Audrey are you trying to destroy my figure you’re FIRED Bourgeois. Marinette pushed that thought aside. Rose would appreciate cookies, she was sure. Gina’s neighbors would too. Maybe even Sally...would it be insulting to take some to Sally? She tried to remember if she’d seen cookies for sale in the café, and finally gave up. She’d just make some, and figure out who could eat them later. 

This was something she could do, and nobody could say she didn’t do it well, and that...that mattered to her right now. She could feel herself relaxing into the process, and she began to consider what she could make. Gina’s supplies weren’t as extensive as Tom’s, but there were still plenty of options to choose from…

Her first batch was in the oven, and she was making some simple Russian teacakes for a breather, when Gina’s old-fashioned doorbell rang. 

Frowning, Marinette grabbed a towel from the oven and went to the door, wiping at least one hand as clean as she could get it before she opened it.

If she’d expected anything, it was a package delivery, or maybe even a neighbor stopping by with some cookies of their own—this seemed like the kind of place where that stuff happened. 

On the doorstep stood a grey-haired woman with a bright smile, glasses that made her blue eyes look huge, feet well apart, and her hands solidly on her hips. Behind her stood Luka Couffaine, his lips pressed together in exasperation, propping up a large Christmas tree. He gave her a tight smile when her eyes flicked over him, but the woman in front of him had a presence that was impossible to ignore. 

“Um,” Marinette said, smiling uncertainly. “Can I help you?” 

The woman stuck out her hand. “Hello, lass. Marinette, isn’t it? Anarka Couffaine! Yer grandma be a friend of mine. When I heard you were keeping house for her while she’s away I thought we’d best be bringing over her tree!”

“Her tree?” Marinette asked, mystified. She glanced at Luka, and couldn’t help a smile when he mouthed I am so sorry at her over his...mother? Surely she must be his mother. Only a parent could put that look of embarrassed frustration on a grown man. 

“Aye, Gina always gets a tree from us,” Anarka was saying. “Thought she wouldn’t be needing one this year since she’s gone. Hated to think of her not having one when she gets back, but it makes sense, no one here to take care of it and all. But since you’re here, all’s well. You can decorate it and have it ready for Gina when she comes home. She’s still planning t’be back for Christmas Day, aye?”

“Uh, yes,” Marinette said, reaching up to tug a pigtail and remembering just in time that she’d pinned up her hair, and that her hands were still dusted with flour despite the wiping. “She and my parents and all were supposed to meet back here for Christmas Eve, so I guess—but I don’t know if—”

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Anarka burst out cheerfully. “She’ll definitely be wanting her tree, then. No worries, lass, we know where everything is. We won’t be in your way but for a moment.” 

She didn’t push past Marinette, but it was clear she intended to move forward, and Marinette backed out of the doorway on instinct.

Luka gave her a kill me now look as he hoisted the tree and followed his mother. Marinette giggled in spite of herself, and closed the door behind them. 

True to her word, Anarka knew exactly where to find Gina’s Christmas tree things, and ordered her son around with a brusqueness that left no room for argument or debate. Marinette hovered, a bit at a loss for what to do. She wondered if she should go change into clean clothes, but Anarka said they weren’t staying long, and she still wasn’t done in the kitchen—

The oven timer chimed, and she automatically turned to tend to it. She hesitated in the door to the kitchen for just a moment, but Luka was half under the tree, getting it adjusted in the stand while Anarka barked orders. Neither was paying any attention to her, and even if she wasn’t cooking for anyone in particular, she couldn’t stand to let perfectly good cookies burn for no good reason. 

She’d just gotten everything settled when Anarka’s booming voice behind her made her jump. “I’ve got to run, lass, but Luka can finish getting things set up. I’ve already told him what to do and where to put everything. We left the box of decorations out for ye, so ye can get things all nice for when Gina comes home. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, so, goodbye for now. Don’t forget to check the water in the tree every day!” 

Marinette didn’t even have time to answer before Anarka was seeing herself out. 

As soon as the door banged closed behind Anarka, Luka made a beeline for the kitchen. Hands against the doorframe, he leaned in. “Hey.”

Marinette turned to look at him from where she stood rolling some kind of round cookie in powdered sugar. “I swear I tried to talk her out of it,” he told her, ears burning. “I’d have had more success wrestling a bear.” 

Marinette laughed, blushing, and Luka couldn’t help his grin. She looked adorable, with her hair pinned up and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, flour streaking the red and green, frilled apron she wore. “I can imagine,” she replied, placing the sugar-coated ball carefully on a pile of others already in a dish on the counter. “She seems like someone it’s hard to say no to.” 

Luka shrugged. “That’s my mom.” They looked at each other for a moment, Luka thinking about what a sweet picture she made and her thinking—probably that he was completely weird, standing here staring at her. “Anyway,” he said hastily, pushing himself back upright, “I’ll get this finished up and get out of your hair. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry and I had nothing to do with this...whatever this is.”

Marinette giggled. “It’s fine.” Her shoulders came down a little, and Luka gave her one more grin before he went back to setting up the tree. He was starting, he reflected ruefully, to have some dangerous if only thoughts. If only they’d met sooner, if only she weren’t leaving in a couple of weeks...

If only the people in his life weren’t so damn pushy, so that he wasn’t sure how much of the attraction he felt was sincere or mutual. If only he could be sure he wasn’t seeing things because Rose put the idea in his head. 

Luka wasn’t sure what had put his mother on the scent. It was, just barely, possible that her motives were exactly what she said they were. Gina did buy a tree from them every year, and since they were friends it was usually more of a visit than a delivery, and Anarka had more than once hauled Luka out to help set the thing up when he was home. 

Luka doubted it though. Either Rose had blabbed, or someone else had. Sally, maybe, who might have seen him holding her hand at the café, or maybe one of the townspeople who had seen them say goodbye outside afterwards, smiling and friendly. Marinette blushed so easily, and he did find her extremely pretty. it might have been easy for someone to get the wrong idea. 

The television was on, but Luka hadn’t paid any attention to it until Marinette’s name caught his ear. He looked up, and saw a good-looking blonde man on screen, waving to the crowd before he turned to help a lady out of the limo he’d just exited. There was a smaller picture of Marinette on the arm of the same handsome blond in the corner. 

Luka put it together with what Marinette had told him at the café, and pressed his lips together, irrationally angry at the man. Clearly he has a type, Luka thought sourly, looking at the new woman on his arm as the couple proceeded down the red carpet. Luka glanced back at the kitchen, and then walked over and turned the television off. Marinette didn’t seem like she was watching it, and she certainly didn’t need to see something like that by accident. 

He finished up, making sure to clean up after himself as best he could, stacking the boxes that had held Gina’s things neatly where his mother had found them. Conveniently there was a broom in the same closet, so he was able to sweep up the needles he’d inevitably tracked all over the house. 

He put the broom back, and went back to find Marinette. Whatever she was making smelled amazing. Luka paused in the kitchen doorway. Marinette was concentrating hard, piping icing onto cookies laid out in front of her. Even focused as she was, he couldn’t help but note that she looked more content than he’d ever seen her, smiling and at peace, humming softly to herself. She leaned back to study what she’d done, and the humming turned to singing. 

Luka took a quick step back and turned, putting his back to the wall next to the door, one hand going to clutch at his heart as it suddenly decided to gallop away. 

She was singing one of his songs. 

So she’s a fan, he scolded himself. I knew that. And why should he care? By the end, Luke Stone had been almost an entirely separate entity from himself. An illusion created to sell music, not a real person. 

Except Luke Stone still played Luka Couffaine’s music. And it was one thing to know Luke Stone had fans, to see them screaming in a crowd or throwing themselves at the security ropes to get to him, but...it was entirely different to hear sweet, sincere Marinette, thoughtlessly humming Luka’s songs just because she was happy and she enjoyed them. It was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To know that people appreciated the music, and not just the image. It was no wonder his pulse was racing. 

Luka sighed and closed his eyes.  I’m in trouble, he admitted to himself. 

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles 

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch2 | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 3.1K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, lots of fluff in this chapter tbh and you might die because dork namjoon has come to the party ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: sorry this repost is a little late; i've been sick the past two days and holed up in bed for the last one. i'm so excited to release this for you and start on the next chapter.

It is 6:05 in the morning, and you are awake. Not wide awake, but awake. You can’t believe you let Namjoon convince you to get up this early, because frankly, nobody has ever convinced you to get up this early. When he said that you’d have to get there first thing in the morning so you can see everything, you really didn’t think he would mean you’d have to get there at 7 AM. It’s always been your philosophy that it’s wrong to wake up before the sun, and you’re finding that getting out of bed in your pitch black room isn’t easy. You’re gonna have to make sure to clarify everything that man says in the future. Ugh, military men, you think.

You groan, muscles stiff as you finally manage to get yourself out of bed.

Bananas is obviously not getting the memo, the only sign of him being his fluffy tail poking out from under the covers. He’s never been into early mornings either.

Namjoon sent you a text yesterday and told you that the exhibit that he really wants to show you requires tickets. He then told you that because they only sell 100 tickets per day on a first come first serve basis; getting in line any later than 7 AM would surely be entirely too late, apparently. The Daegu Art Museum opens at 10, tickets go on sale at 9:30, yet you need to be in line no later than 7? Sure.

He seemed really excited about the exhibit, though, saying that Yayoi Kusama, whoever that person was, was a genius. So… you couldn’t exactly turn him down. Her works were deep and breathtaking and spoke so much about life, according to Namjoon. He had promised it would be worth it, and you thought about that promise as you groggily did your morning routine. Yeah, you thought, it had better be. If only he hadn’t sent too many pleading-eye emojis.

You grabbed your over the shoulder bag and gave Bananas a good belly rub before heading outside.

Despite being almost non-functional this early in the morning, you beat Namjoon to the museum. Gawking at the massive modern building, you walk up to the front doors, where a decent line has already formed. Okay, maybe he was right.

You find yourself a place at the back of the line and just as you reach in your bag to grab your phone to text him, you see Namjoon walking in your direction, long legs making short work of catching up to you. You catch his eyes lingering on your bare legs as he approaches, and for just a moment, you’re glad you chose to wear this skirt.

“Morning, Namjoon,” you groan, leaning up against the museum’s outer wall. More people start filing in line after you, and you’re thankful Namjoon wasn’t too late. “I guess you were right. Look at all these people.”

“Morning, peach,” he says with another one of his dimpled grins, “Glad it’s warming up out? It’s supposed to hit 20 degrees today.”

“Okay, it is entirely too early for you to be this happy,” you say, voice groggy. Namjoon just shrugs.

“Guess I’m just excited.”

You look around the small crowd that has formed and notice that a lot of the people are sitting up against the wall while they wait. You decide to do the same.

“I am too, trust me,” you say, back resting against the cool stone, “I’m just not usually up this early.”

“I see. Maybe conversation can keep you awake. Are there any other places in Daegu you want to see?” Namjoon inquires.

“Well, there is that aquarium I keep hearing about. One of my coworkers on post says that there are mermaids that do a little performance with the fish.”

“Oh! I know which one you’re talking about! I’ve actually been there a few times. I love it there! Fish are so cool.”

“Before I went into veterinary science,” you say, “I was originally planning on being a marine biologist.”

“You’re a vet? I didn’t know that! No wonder Bananas looks like such a happy pup!”

“Yeah,” you say, letting your head fall back, “he really is. But, I really want to go check it out. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an aquarium.”

“The mermaid performers swim around with a bunch of stingrays. Stingrays are actually not that dangerous, especially if they have the barbs removed from their tails.”

You feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“A lot of people think they’re really dangerous because Steve Irwin died from a sting from a stingray, but his injury was a result of the barb piercing his thoracic wall. Most stingray injuries are actually very mild.”

“That’s interesting,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Some people think that cutting down their barbs is abuse, but it’s like cutting off a fingernail to humans. They don’t feel it at all and it grows back over time.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you say as you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

“It’s the touch tanks that can be a little problematic,” Namjoon continues, oblivious, “Stingrays have a type of mucus that covers their body that protects them from bacteria. If that gets rubbed off, they become vulnerable. A lot of zoos and aquariums are taking plenty of precautionary measures though, like making sure the guests wash their hands before and after they experience the touch tank. In fact, I think that given the proper precautions, touch tanks…”

______________

The warmth next to you feels like home, and threatens to pull you back to sleep. You feel yourself holding onto something... firm and yet so soft, but it’s comforting, so you tighten your grip and nuzzle further in. You then feel a gentle breeze run across your legs and wonder where your blankets have gone. Bananas has probably hogged them all. You breathe in and smell laundry detergent, a little musk and… men’s deodorant? There’s the quiet chatter of birdsong, and an unmistakable trickle of water, and you instantly remember where you are.

Your eyes snap open to find yourself snuggled up to Namjoon, arms hooked around his bicep and cheek against his shoulder. He seems un-bothered by your lack of respect for his personal space; he doesn’t even look up from his book. Like it’s the most natural thing for you to be attached to him like this. Embarrassed, you quickly distance yourself from him and apologize profusely while he just chuckles a bit. He puts his bookmark in to keep his place and turns towards you as you blink yourself awake, tasting the dryness in your mouth. Oh god, you must have had your mouth open.

“It’s fine, peach. I didn’t even realize you were asleep until you started snoring.”

You gasp. “I did not!”

“Oh, you did,” he says, eyeing you playfully, “It was only a little though. And it was really quiet. Kind of cute, actually.” You play hit him in the arm that you had just been latched on to.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. I bought your ticket!”

“You what?! What time is it?” you ask, scrambling to look at your phone. It was 5 minutes until open. “Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I was going to, but you were sleeping so hard...”

“Well, at least that means I wasn’t all over you this entire time.”

“Oh, no," he says, "you were.”

You groan. “How did you get up and buy the tickets then without me knowing?”

“A man has to have some secrets, you know. Come on, let’s go look at some art.”

The inside of the Daegu Art Museum is stunning. The lobby is bright and open; the sunlight pours into that first room through the large windows, casting a lovely morning light on all of the bright and cheery visitors. Some of the larger pieces are displayed in this grand lobby, some towering ten of feet above you.

“Namjoon, this is beautiful.”

“Just you wait, Come on, first we’ll do classical, then lunch, then modern art. The best one we’ll save for last.”

Classical art wasn’t your favorite, but Namjoon got absorbed in just about every piece. When he saw one that really grabbed his attention, he would sit there gawking at it, mouth open as he read from the little plaque next to it. The way his eyes filled with wonder and widened with discovery at the newly rotated paintings was absolutely adorable. He almost had this child-like wonder about him, eagerly looking back and forth from the plaque to the painting and back again. You almost enjoyed studying Namjoon instead of the art.

You let him take the lead, showing you some of his favorite pieces as you navigate through the galleries. He is definitely in his element here. After he finishes his embellished tour of the classical works, you both decide it would be a good time to break for lunch. The museum has a little cafe, so Namjoon takes care of waiting for your orders while you are tasked with finding a nice spot to spread your blanket outside on the grounds. You see a spot beneath a tree offering up a little shade, so you spread the blanket over the soft grass and take your place, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. Namjoon soon arrives with your food, and settles down next to you.

Before you start to eat, you remove your cardigan, exposing your chest and arms to the air, hoping to enjoy some of the new warmth in Daegu. You hear Namjoon take a sharp inhale, and thinking something’s wrong, you quickly look over at him. He’s got his eyes trained on you, and he swallows hard before he realizes you’re looking at him. He jerks his gaze away, finds something else to look at and shakes his head, as if to clear it. Was he… checking you out?

“Sorry, I thought I uh…” he trails off, “thought I saw a bug. It was, uh, just a shadow.”

“Uh, thanks for uh, looking out,” you say, before a thought strikes you, “Hey, Namjoon. I brought my painting stuff with me today. I was hoping to paint a little while we eat, is that okay? I don’t want to be bad company.”

He perks up, “Oh, yeah, sure. I can just keep reading my book. Hypervelocity stars aren’t going to learn about themselves!”

You set about getting out your watercolor palette, planning on using some of your bottled water to wet your paints. For some reason, you glance back over at Namjoon. He’s sitting with his back against the tree, legs crossed at the ankles, book in one hand, and bao in the other. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed together in concentration, and he lazily takes a bite, not even looking at the bao bun. You hold back a giggle when you see he got some sauce on his mouth. You can’t help but point it out by getting his attention and tapping your own bottom lip. Namjoon studies you for a minute, and slowly licks his bottom lip, almost too slowly. Before you can register what he had just done, he just smiles at you innocently and goes back to reading his book.

This man is going to kill you, so he might as well be the subject for your art. The way he’s positioned himself is just too adorable to ignore.

After getting the basic shape of his outline done and halfway through the details in his face, he stirs from his place under the tree. You watch him as he places his book down carefully on the blanket and walks toward your back, steps ever so gentle. You turn your head and see a little bird hopping around on the grass, and Namjoon is after it. He breaks off a piece of bread from his second bao and extends it towards the bird, who eyes him suspiciously. To your surprise though, it hops forward and takes the bread, chirping up at Namjoon. He goes to sit cross legged on the ground, but doing so ends up startling the bird, who then flies a short distance away on the lawn. Namjoon sulks and pouts a little before getting up and walking after the bird. This is the craziest thing you have ever seen. You love animals so much that you’ve dedicated your career to helping them stay healthy, but this is on a whole other level.

You go back to refining your art, throwing some color into the sky and on the tree, seeing as your main subject has wandered off.

You’re startled when he comes back from behind you.

“How’s the art coming?” he asks, looking over your shoulder at your book, “Hey! Is that me?!”

“Well, it was going to be until you started playing Snow White.”

“Yeah…” he says, looking down at what’s left of his sandwich, “the little guy ate all my bread.”

You laugh a little at him as he frowns at the char siu pork filling barely being contained by the thinnest bun dough you’ve ever seen. Widening his eyes, he downs the rest of the bao bun in one bite.

“Dind youh whanna fhinish youhr phaintingh?” he says, covering his full mouth as he speaks.

“I can finish it some other time. Let’s go see the modern stuff before I want another nap.”

Stepping into the large room that houses the modern art, you take in a sharp breath with how absolutely full it is. Sculptures, paintings, installations; and in the back of the room is a line leading to a small door. You don’t know where to look first, so thankfully your personal tour guide is there to show you the way.

You’re reading the plaque on a minimalistic piece when Namjoon comes and grabs your wrist, excitedly ushering you to follow him. He leads you to the other side of the room where he stops in front of a section of blank wall, gesturing for you to look at it. You sit there and wonder what in the world he could be talking about when you see it. A piece of bright pink gum is stuck to the pristine white wall.

“This wasn't here last time!” he exclaims in a whisper. “I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah, kinda sucks that someone did that.”

“No, you don’t get it. This is an installation.”

“... are you sure about that?”

“Yeah! Look, it's about how such a simple thing can ruin something so large. Like finding a fly in your chardonnay, or there being a hair in your food, or one small imperfection in a person ruining your whole view of them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s actual trash, Namjoon.”

“Of course it’s actual trash. I don’t think the artist could have gotten the point across without using actual chewing gum. It says so much. It might also be depicting the actual process of tainting something too! Like, how long did the artist chew the gum before they stuck it there? How much time and effort did it take them to ruin this whole wall with their gum? Where’s the plaque?”

As Namjoon searches the nearby walls for a plaque, a janitor comes by and scrapes off the gum, smiling gently at the both of you. You send Namjoon a pointed look, one that’s screaming “I told you so,” and then you both start laughing, having to hold back most of the sound in the quiet of the viewing space.

“Okay, last but not least. You ready?” The two of you were next in line to enter that small door you had seen at the back of the room when you first entered. The lady taking the tickets had already informed you that you would have five minutes once the door shut. You still had no idea what to expect.

“Yeah, I guess I had better be.” The door opened, letting out the museum goer who had just been in there.

Namjoon leaned up to your ear from behind and gently said, “Close your eyes.”

You were about to protest when he continued speaking, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I’ll walk you in there and tell you when to open. Trust me?”

You answered him by letting your lids drop. You felt him guide you by your shoulders as you walked gently forward and then to the right. You could tell that the floor texture had changed from the concrete you’d been walking on all day to something more plastic. You heard the door softly click shut behind you.

“Open,” he commanded softly, and you complied.

You could not make sense out of what you were seeing. The view went on forever, but you could tell that the actual room was so very small. Directly in front of you and on all sides were mirrors, infinitely reflecting off of themselves into the horizon. You were both completely surrounded by them. Scattered around the part of the room that wasn’t the black platform that you were standing on were delicate fairy lights in a cool white tone. It felt like you were floating in a void, so endless and empty. There were specks of brightness, but they did nothing to change the darkness enveloping you. Though it felt infinite, there was a nagging sense of being trapped. Surrounded on all sides. It was beautiful and terrifying to look at. Consumed by everything and nothing. You forgot Namjoon was there until he spoke quietly against your ear.

“This is what I think grief looks like. If it could take a physical form, this would be it.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You’re being swallowed by emptiness. You both are.

You both stand there in silence for the next few minutes, Namjoon’s warmth radiating onto your back, his hands still on your shoulders. Occasionally, his breath would brush against the nape of your neck.

“You really get it, don’t you?” you ask quietly.

“I can’t say I understand what it’s like to lose a spouse, peach. But I understand grief in my own way. I know this sounds crazy, because I don’t believe in any higher power, but I think we were supposed to meet each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... “ he starts, “I just feel better when I’m around you. I feel like a… better person. You don’t treat me like... “ he stops himself.

“Like what, Namjoon?”

“You don’t treat me like other people do. In a lot of ways. That’s... the easiest way to say it.”

You just nod, wanting to soak up these last few moments in this room with him. In this dark space, it’s not so scary to get close. You allow yourself to lean back into him, and he stiffens up for a moment before circling his arms around you.

“We’re gonna get through all of this together,” he says against your ear, “I promise. Together.”

[oyesmendes]

i keep on missing you

a/n: so remember when i said there would be a part two to “all i wanted was a happy ending” ? ya its here.... this was largely inspired by Missing You - The Vamps and i miss you, i’m sorry - Gracie Abrams. hope you guys got some tissues ready HAHAHA sorry in advance! @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @lonelyreputation​ 

read part one here

'Cause I'm sat here in my front room with a girl who ain't you / Hopin' and prayin' you're breakin' up with another fool

The sunlight that streams through the small crack between his curtains is what wakes Shawn up. He has his hand draped across a body - or should he say, his girlfriend’s body and he finds himself frowning at the lack of the olive skin he’s grown so used to waking up to. He’s quick to change his facial expression once he sees the body roll around to face him. The girl grins at him, stroking his cheek and pressing a soft kiss on his lips which he struggles to return.

“Morning, sunshine”

“G’morning” He mumbles back. They don’t say much, only sharing a few kisses and cuddle for what felt like too long before they both stumble out of bed into their morning routines.

Shawn is sitting at the dining table, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram like he was reading the morning papers. He likes a couple pictures posted by friends back in Toronto, before he lands on one that makes his breath hitch.

@kiara_hammani: everyday is worth celebrating with you. happy three months, sweet pea!

It was a picture of her - Kiara. His finger hovers above her face, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin against his. She was in that blue sundress they bought on impulse during a trip to Hawaii two years ago, and she was posing at the beach. Wrapped up in the arms of another man. He’s contemplating if he should zoom in or tap on the tagged account of the man, but decides to just stare at it for a couple more seconds instead. It’s only been less than five months since she moved out, how could she have moved on so quickly?

“Shawn? Hey you there, gorgeous?” Shawn blinks his eyes a couple of times to bring him back to reality. He quickly places his phone face down on the table and smiles softly.

“Yeah? Sorry I got a little distracted.”

“That’s alright, would you like coffee or green tea today?” She was holding up a French press in one hand and pack of teabags in the other. She smiles sweetly at him and Shawn feels himself cringe internally. This girl was everything but Kiara. The tone of her voice constantly laced with sweetness, and pale skin covered with fake tan which made her look orange. He thinks back to all the times that Kiara would purposely use a high-pitched voice to mock the waitress or random girl that was trying to get in his pants and they’d have a good laugh about it. He knows she would’ve done the same right now. Shawn looks at the girl standing in front of him and he hides the disappointment that fills his chest when he realises that she’s not here.

“I’ll have the tea, thank you Chris.” She nods and spins around to make him a mug.

Christine was your typical LA girl. Yeah, the ones that have beach blonde hair, holding a hydro flask and wearing cut off denim shorts all year round. How she and Shawn ended up together for the last two months? Ask management. They initially paired him off with another girl but she was way too much of a blonde that Shawn ended up ditching her on their first meet. He put up a strong fight with the team afterwards and they eventually settled on Christine. She was no where near Kiara, but according to Shawn’s publicist - Christine was the cure to his falling reputation.

So they’ve spent every single day together for the last two months, drowning out all the dirty news of their breakup. Shawn didn’t hate it completely, Christine was too nice to him that he forced himself to enjoy every moment. But he does catch himself comparing her to Kiara, and he can’t seem to shake himself out of it. He watches as Christine turns around, two mugs in her hand. At first, he doesn’t notice the pastel pink mug that belonged to Kiara. But as she places it down on the table, he sees the faint lipstick stain on the edge of the mug and he stops her from lifting it up to her lips.

“What’s wrong?” Christine asks when Shawn’s hand lands on top of hers.

“Throw it out.”

“What? Babe, I just made this-“

“I said THROW IT OUT!” She jumps slightly in her seat when Shawn raises his voice and he immediately regrets it. Christine pushes her chair back, letting them scrape the hardwood floor because she knows how much Shawn hates it when she does that. She gets up from her seat and stalks to the front door.

“You can throw it out yourself.”

Nothing happened in the way I wanted / Every corner of this house is haunted

The front door slams and Shawn is left with the same deafening silence from two months ago. His eyes focus on the mug and then roams the house. Every corner was filled with the essence of Kiara. After their heated argument, she moved out the next morning, taking everything that she could without the need to turn back. Naturally, she left a few shared pieces in the house which Shawn never touched, and it was starting to feel haunting. Each object that she had left - the dark blue curtains from Ikea, the cream coloured throw from a boutique in London, and even that chipped porcelain vase she bought from a kid at a yard sale held three years of happy memories. Memories he couldn’t bear to relive or throw away. Shawn would much rather be alone than to share this special place with someone new, but he couldn’t lose Christine now, especially when his career’s on the line. So he forces himself to grab his keys and pull himself out the front door. He’s out on the streets and thankfully, Christine hasn’t made it too far from the apartment building.

“Christine!” She increases her footsteps but before she could make the corner, Shawn grabs a hold of her arm.

“What do you want, Shawn?” He pulls her closer to him and she’s resting her hand on his chest. Her touch felt different. But Shawn settles for it in the moment.

“You, me and the grocery store.” He smirks at her. A small smile erupts on her face and Shawn knows he’s immediately been forgiven. It’s been a vicious cycle that’s got them through the last 8 weeks - Shawn does something stupid, then he makes it up by suggesting Christine’s favourite activity which he would hate, on a normal day. He knows this isn’t the way to love someone, especially someone who only has good intentions for him. But he needs Christine to stay, at least he thinks he does. She makes the silence less deafening, and it stops Shawn’s head from reeling into his horror movie of thoughts. She was his imaginary safety net, somewhere he could fall into for a moment and not think until reality hits him like a truck again.

-

The store was quiet, and Shawn is thankful for it. He doesn’t need to put on a loving couple front for the cameras or fans that would recognise him from a mile away. He’s pushing the trolley behind Christine, empty focus on the squeaking of the wheels.

“Should we try cashew milk this time? I was watching Claudia’s vlog the other day and she was raving about this brand.” Christine holds up the cartons in front of Shawn’s face. He smiles at her, knowing well that he has to give her some sort of attention or care in order for this relationship not to crumble.

Kiara couldn’t care less about the type of nut milk we had at home. He stops himself before he dives further into that part of his brain.

“Well if Claudia says it’s good, I don’t see why we shouldn’t try it.” Her face immediately lights up when Shawn showed the slightest interest in her rambling. She drops the carton of cashew milk into the trolley and scampers off while he trails behind her. They wander around the fresh produce, and while Christine goes on about which kind of salad she wants to make next week, Shawn hears the distinct laughter and voice.

His eyes dart around the store until they land on a specific couple and he sees her. In all her 5’7” glory, Kiara stood next to the same man that was on her Instagram post, trying to catch her breath from all the laughing the pair had been doing.

“You’re telling me, you microwaved eggs?!” She’s still laughing, shaking her head as she placed the carton of fresh eggs into the trolley in front of her.

“Hey, no shame in that! We were in college and really dumb. Besides, you’re the one that burnt the kettle to a crisp while making tea last week.”

“Well, we’re both to blame for that.” Shawn watches as Kiara gives the man one of those cheeky smiles that she used to give him. He watches as he attacked her sides, tickling and then peppering kisses down her neck as she squeals in excitement. Shawn should look away, he knows he should before he gets caught, but he can’t help himself. Before he knows it he hears Christine next to him,

“Shawn? Did you hear me? What are you- Oh for god’s sake!” The couple turns when they hear Christine raise her voice and Shawn snaps out of his trance. His eyes meet briefly with Kiara’s and her face falls just enough for Shawn to notice. Christine shoves the packet of spinach she has in her hands back on the shelf. She shoots Kiara a death stare before pushing Shawn out of the way and storming out of the grocery store. He doesn’t go after her, instead his hand tightens its grip around the handles of the trolley and he forces himself to breathe. The man with Kiara is rubbing both sides of her arms, a concerned look on his face as he mumbles something to her. She’s shaking her head, giving him a reassuring smile as they continue with their shopping, not taking another look at Shawn.

I still love you, I promise / Nothing happened in the way I wanted

Shawn abandons his cart, the Canadian in him feeling guilty about not placing the stuff back on the shelves. But his mind is running too fast that his legs couldn’t comprehend his own actions. He finds himself squatting outside the store, baseball cap pulled far down on his face. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, waiting for some damned miracle to happen. Something to fix his heart.

“I’ll drive the car up here? That way we don’t have to push the cart back.” Shawn recognises the same voice and he peers up slowly.

“Sure, I’ll wait here.” Kiara.

He waits for a couple moments before he scrambles to his feet and it makes Kiara jump out of her skin.

“Pinché pendejo.” She mutters under her breath. Kiara’s about to push her trolley further away, when she recognises the white and pink Dodgers baseball cap that used to belong to her.

“Shawn?”

He feels like a deer caught in headlights, looking down at her with widened eyes. The look on her face was unreadable as she puts her hands deep into the pockets of her hoodie. He tries to drink in as much of her looks as he can - the change in the way her hair now falls just above her shoulders instead of having it in those long beach waves; how she now has the confidence to be out in public with barely any make up on. The moment of staring doesn’t last too long though, when Shawn hears a voice call out for her.

“Babe, you good?” Kiara and Shawn both seem to be shaken back to reality quickly. She’s pushing her hair out of her face and smiling softly to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Let’s load her up.”

And I know you said that we're not talking / But I miss you, I'm sorry

“Wait.” Shawn says barely above a whisper. Both of them stop in their tracks and look to him.

“Can I-can I talk to her for a second? I promise you it won’t take long.” Kiara’s boyfriend is already dropping the bags back into the cart, trying to go in front of her to give Shawn a piece of his mind.

“Ryan,” She pulls his arm toward her and he switches his attention to his girl, “I’ll talk to him. I won’t take too long.” Ryan looks at Kiara then back at Shawn and he stalks toward him, chest out, looking like he’s ready for some brawl. Kiara’s holding her breath as she watches him walk, the anxiety in her chest just become worse by the second. Ryan has his pointer finger up, voice low as he stares at Shawn in the eyes, “you hurt her again and I guarantee you, I will ruin you.”

He turns back around, kissing Kiara on the cheek before he loads the groceries into the car.

Shawn smiles awkwardly at her, “well, he seems nice.”

“I’m so sorry, he’s just protective.”

“That’s okay, I understand.” An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them and Kiara think’s this is probably the worst idea in the entire world. To be standing out on a cold day in LA, next to her ex, with her boyfriend waiting less than 10 feet away. She’s wrapping her arms around herself, bouncing on her feet to keep herself warm. Shawn doesn’t say anything for awhile and Kiara’s growing frustrated by the second.

“Did you want to-“

“So I-“

They start at the same time, and it makes Shawn chuckle. But it makes Kiara sigh and she’s hugging herself tighter. Shawn finally sees the hint of annoyance on her face and his mind scrambles for the right words. (Though, I’m not exactly sure these are the write words, Shawn)

“How are you?” Kiara gives him a look, and she couldn’t believe her ears. After standing out in the freezing cold weather, he just wanted to ask how she was doing?!

“Get to the point, Shawn. I don’t have the time for small talk right now.” He’s fiddling with the loose thread from his sweater, trying to avoid Kiara’s intimidating brown eyes when he speaks.

“I just-I, I just miss you, Ki.” Kiara scoffs, very audibly and she takes a step back to look at him.

“Cariño,” He recognises the same sarcastic tone that her mother uses, “don’t you have a girlfriend you should be with?”

Breaking dishes when you're disappointed / I still love you, I promise

“Yeah I do, she’s standing right in front of me.”

“You did not just-“ Kiara mutters under her breath, shaking her head violently. She looks around her to ensure that there’s no one in earshot, then steps toward him and pokes his chest.

“Shawn Peter, you do not just squat out here wanting to talk to me after you argued with your current girl and then say that you want me back. You do not just walk up to me and say all those things after what you did, how you hurt me and-“

He grabs both her wrists and Kiara stops mid-sentence.

“What are you doing?” She mutters under her breath. Kiara knows that Ryan would be watching them both, and any bigger movement would send him running out of the car to punch Shawn in the face. She looks over her shoulder and she already sees the door of the Range Rover opening slowly.

“I miss you, I really do. I still love you, Ki, I still fucking love you.” He tries to lean in and Kiara finally had enough, pulling her hand out from his grip.

“Fuck Shawn, I’m happy now can’t you see? We’re over, it’s over.” Kiara turns around, her eyes meeting Ryan as he stands next to the car. She musters up a smile for him before she hears Shawn shout from behind her.

“Does he love you like I do?” She stops in her tracks and looks over at him.

“No Shawn, Ryan has done a better job in the last three months than you ever did in the three years I’ve known you.”

With that, Kiara walks away, and Shawn is left with half of his heart and the image of her back burned in his mind.

[ask-iamnotanalicorn]

Previous: The Discord Timeline

The Industrial Devolution Timeline:

The road to economic domination was creeping and insidious.

First, Nightmare Moon returned. Celestia and Cadance were able to subdue her, locking her in a (very comfortable) prison while Celestia sought a way to free her sister of the evil influence warping her mind. With the monarch so distracted and Princess Cadance struggling to take up the slack, a few opportunistic entrepreneurs began getting their roots into the market.

Then the Crystal War began, dividing Celestia’s and Cadance’s attention even further. The Changelings attacked, sowing destruction and distrust until Cadance defeated their queen. Tirek cut a swath through the countryside before being stopped, increasing the economic struggles. It was as if a domino of assaults on the Equestrian daily life had started, with none able to stop the ever-larger dominoes from toppling.

Celestia was terribly injured during the final fight that destroyed King Sombra. Luna finally overcame her rage and the parasitic magic fueling it, but went into seclusion out of shame and a desire to tend to her wounded sister. Cadance’s focus was split between post-war rebuilding in Equestria, assisting the confused, freed, and much-distrusted crystal ponies with stabilizing their crippled city, and tending to her own first child. With their leaders so distracted and the country still reeling from so many attacks, ponies desperately reached out for any kind of financial and necessities stability. 

Perfectly fertile soil for the country’s most hostile economic takeover in its history.

Flim and Flam’s tactics were simple yet effective: move in wherever large numbers of companies had collapsed and fill the void with simple, cheap necessities that anypony could afford. As their finances grew, they began to expand, beating out surrounding competition with their rock-bottom prices until they could either buy out or crush their competitors. They continued this strategy further and further out, their influence spreading like hives across Equestria until hardly any retailers of food, drinks, household goods, small machine parts, and pretty much every other goods reseller below industrial level still operated. (Although who knew what the future might hold for FlimFlam Industries?) Once competition decreased to almost nill, they raised their prices to just barely affordable, swelling their already full pockets.

By the end of the Crystal War, they had such a grip, so much financial and political power, that even if the princesses should realize the toxic hold this company has on the market, it will be a long road back to rebalancing the economy. The country has, regrettably, come to rely on Flim Flam Industries, and their stranglehold would not be easily broken.

Sales always dreamed of being a traveling salespony. He’d even gotten a taste of it before the war. But now... well, there was no one to sell for. Companies kept dying out from under him. And if it weren’t bad enough that FFI already sold cheap, unexciting product options, the further lack of competition gave them even less incentive to TRY. They could cut costs on everything from packaging to flavor to color options; there was absolutely no consideration for variety or improvement or innovation. Soon everything in those blasted pop-up depots came in bland, uniformly labeled containers, with names like FLOUR and SOAP and TOWELS. There was no ART to it, and worst of all, no heart. And certainly no need for a door-to-door sales technique - not when F&F Depots were on every corner and people already had little choice but to get their goods from them.

So that’s how Sales ended up here, running one of those blasted depots. It is barely salesponyship, but it was still the closest thing he could find to his special talent. Meanwhile pollution and unchecked labor laws are creeping out from the cities, and farms are being consumed for their timber and factory locations. Quills & Sofas went under, leaving Sales’ father without a job and one more worry for Salespitch. Everypony prays that Celestia would heal, that Cadance would realize the depths of what was happening and make some move to stop it, that even the once-evil Princess Luna rumored to be tending her sister in the castle would take a stand. But for now, FFI is taking full advantage of the rulers’ distraction and obliviousness to tighten their hold on the country’s economy. Sales works and keeps his head down; it’s too great an issue for one pony to tackle, especially a pony whose only real talent is talking.

He tries to remind himself that things could be worse. Despite crummy wages and the soul-deadening monotony of just grabbing standard crap off a shelf when asked, Sales IS making a living. He makes an effort to keep his depot looking like the pony who works there actually cares (a façade FFI has long since abandoned.) Black took up work as a stocker in the store, so at least they get to hang out. Pollution isn’t as bad in Featherhorn (yet), although the deforestation and smog have been spreading nearer. But Sales just can’t get around the fact that there’s a briefcase-shaped hole in his soul where good, honest, smart salesponyship was meant to be. It’s hard not to be bitter and miserable when your purpose has been almost completely taken away from you.  Still... if Sales can find a way to get a new company going without being ground under Flim and Flam’s hooves... maybe he can go back to doing what he loves, and the world will feel a little more right again. Fun Facts About The Flim Flam Timeline:

- I got my idea for a total economic takeover from a book 6 of the Pendragon series, “The Quillen Games” by D.J. MacHale. Its setting is a world where a single corporation has such control that they even own the people to an extent, but I didn’t want to go THAT dark (although this is still darker than my initial draft), so I stopped at just owning all of the selling outlets. Lack of competition in capitalism breeds complacency, leading to high prices with minimal improvement or variety. (That book may have also stuck in my mind because it was the first time an author so thoroughly pulled the rug out from under me that I was too depressed to finish the series. I can’t HANDLE that kind of catastrophic reversal, MacHale!!!)

- Sales’s dad, Sales Patter, lost his job as Head of Sales at Quills & Sofas after the company was eaten by FlimFlam Industries. He currently lives at home taking care of Pitch Perfect while Pitch Forward does her best to bring in funding through her competitive high-diving sponsorships. Sales and Black contribute money as well, although Black has a surprisingly well-stocked savings account that he refuses to explain to anyone.

- Flim and Flam offered Sales a job as their company spokespony, mainly because they loved the idea of having an ‘alicorn’ as their mascot. Obviously he turned them down, but he did still grudgingly accept a position at the Featherhorn depot since it’s the closest thing he can find to what he’s good at. (Flim and Flam do still like to give people a show, especially when it comes to the smoke and mirrors they must use to keep the wealthier populace and government from paying too much attention to some of the ways FFI cuts their spending - at the expense of their workers, mostly.)

- I’ve seen others do this timeline harsher; there’s a fimfiction that had an interesting take on Celestia being injured in her fight with Nightmare Moon and then IMPRISONED by Flim and Flam’s company so it could take over, which led to an ever-rising problem with pollution, underage workers, poor labor laws, and backhoof politics. Some of that does exist in this timeline, but I went with a severe injury and seclusion in the palace. The Princesses are still AROUND, but being carefully shielded from the truly dark nature of some of Flim and Flam’s machinations. It may just take someone getting their attention drawn to the right things to start the ball rolling...

- Sales and Patter do team up to create a small startup company, selling goods made by Featherhorn’s citizens to the local area. Black uses his connections as a Royal Service agent to sneak them into the palace, where they get an uber-rare meeting with Princess Celestia, who is blessedly awake enough to recognize the little AI and hear their plight. She convinces Luna, who has been taking care of her this whole time, that something needs to be done. Luna is grossly undereducated about modern economics and business practices, but she pulls Cadance in, and while Cadance works on investigating these horrible labor practices they’ve reported, Luna begins brushing up on her education and offers some protection to Sales’ little company. She does, in fact, find some obscure ancient laws that give them a leg up in the fight against FFI when they inevitably try to buy out, sue, and/or bankrupt Sales’ and Patter’s company into the ground. But they start making some headway. 

- It’s a long road back to a balanced market, and much of the work will be done by the Princesses. But the inspiration ponies draw from the changes they see starts the dominoes again - this time, in the direction of positive change.

Next Week: The Wasteland Timeline (finale!)

[florenceandthemachine]

Christopher probably showing off his dads at his school's bake sale and raising the most money in his class.

we all have a hunger on AO3

When Buck’s phone rang on a Sunday morning, he had barely said ‘hello’ before he was steamrolled by the tiniest little force of nature in Los Angeles.

“Buck, Daddy and I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

“Chris, what’s going on? Are you okay? I’ll get my keys, I can be there in—“

“Wait, Chris, no, give me the phone!”

Buck was half out of bed, half dressed, and frantically looking for his keys when Eddie finally took over the phone, nearly hanging up in his haste. “Buck, no, there’s no emergency. Everything is totally fine, we’re fine.”

Buck froze halfway down the stairs, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he pulled his phone away from his head to finish pulling his shirt on. “See, that sounds like something a hostage would say, you’re really not helping your case here Eddie—“

“We are fine.” Eddie insisted, clearing his throat as Chris loudly voiced his disagreement in the background. “We’re just… baking. Chris has a bake sale tomorrow at his school, it’s one of their annual fundraisers. There’s a bake sale, and I’m making brownies, and we’re doing fine.”

Buck resumed dressing as soon as Eddie mentioned the work ‘bake’—it may not have been a true emergency, but he knew enough to know that anything involving Eddie with an oven was a mess and a half, waiting to happen. He hummed, pocketing his keys as he closed his door behind him, already making his way to the garage. “Well, I love baking. Maddie taught me everything she knows. Mind if I swing by and join you?”

Buck knew that Eddie still struggled with asking for help when he needed it—especially when he was asking someone outside of the Diaz crew—but thankfully, Buck knew how to work around that. He had learned early on that the best way to ease any guilt that Eddie might feel where Chris was involved was to completely reshape the question. In this case, it was easy; Eddie was no longer asking for help with one of Chris’ activities, Buck was asking to join them.

Even then, he heard Eddie hesitate. “Well… I mean, I don’t want to take up your Sunday, but—“

“Eddie, you’re not going to seriously deprive me of spending time with Chris, are you?” Buck said, his voice teasing as he slid into his car, delighted to hear Eddie laughing on the other end of the line.

“No, I wouldn’t dare. We’ll see you soon. Drive safe, okay?”

After a quick pit stop at Foods Co., Buck pushed through Eddie’s front door easily, arms laden with grocery bags. Chris was the first to greet him, his high pitched joy never failing to warm his heart. Dumping his bags on the kitchen counter (and looking away from the burned remains of… something in a pan), he scooped Chris into his arms, dutifully ignoring Chris’ cry of “Buuuuck, stoooop!” until he was basically a giggling mess.

Setting Chris back down, Buck was all smiles as he approached a very defeated looking Eddie in the kitchen, giving him a quick kiss of his own. “Hey, come on, cheer up. It’s basically impossible to bake in a bad mood.” Buck said, pulling Eddie into his arms easily. “Now, how about I break open the family recipe book and show you and Chris how to make the world famous Buckley Cheesecake Brownies?”

-

Halfway through the Pixar movie of Chris’ choice, Eddie had a third batch of cheesecake brownies cooling in the fridge, and Buck had Eddie tucked under his arm on the couch. He was basically on cloud nine, riding out a pleasant sugar buzz, feeling supremely comfortable in his own skin, though he knew that was more his proximity to Eddie than anything else.

His attention strayed from the… caterpillars? Grasshoppers? He honestly couldn’t follow what was going on, but it didn’t matter as Eddie culled closer up to him, angling his head up to press another kiss to Buck’s lips, voice low as they broke apart.

“Thanks for today, Buck. We… I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Buck smiled, a small, soft look that was strictly reserved for his Diaz boys, arms tightening around Eddie’s middle as he buried his nose in Eddie’s hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as Eddie’s head rest on his chest.

“Yeah, Eddie, you could have. And you would have, you’d do anything for Chris, and I know that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

-

Let it be known that Eddie Diaz was a fucking snack.

Buck knew it. The 118 knew it. Hell, even Carla knew it.

And the gaggle of moms milling through Chris’ school gymnasium? Well, they definitely knew it. And if they didn’t? Buck was 100% there to remind them.

He had all but insisted on joining Eddie and Chris to the bake sale on Monday, not even bothering with excuses, just happily loading Chris up into Eddie’s truck before he slid into the passengers seat himself. He wasn’t going to pass up the chance at scoring some new recipes, first of all, and second of all, he absolutely loved seeing Eddie in full dad mode. And there was no better place to see Eddie in dad mode than in the gymnasium of an elementary school.

Eddie in full on dad mode was fucking hot, okay? Sue him.

Once they had set up Chris’ booth—with a full banner Chris had insisted on painting himself, two tiered display tables stacked high with cheesecake brownies, and a place to make donations to the school, like every other booth had. They may not have been able to keep any of the money they raised, but Chris had more than enough incentive—the booth that got the most donations won their entire class a pizza party. Thankfully, Chris was adorable, and Buck had a secret weapon in his arsenal… the insistence that Eddie wear his LAFD tee shirt, turnout pants, and used an overturned fireman helmet as Chris’ donation bowl. He wasn’t a fool, okay? He knew that the competition was real.

So… he may or may not have had slightly less-than-altruistic intentions when he slipped away from the booth, kissing both Eddie and Chris on their foreheads with the excuse of scoping out the competition as he started to make the rounds.

He was having the absolute time of his life, slipping easily in and out of conversation, his worn henley and comfortable jeans better than any disguise as he eavesdropped, making fast friends and faster business as he made his way around the gym.

“I don’t know, I saw her tossing a few treat boxes into the dumpster outside. You think those cookies are store bought?”

”Oh, I’d steer clear. I think Maria might have mixed up salt and sugar. I mean, I donated of course, but save your tongue.”

“I just think it’s so great, the things that he does with his son. A single dad and a firefighter to boot?”

Obviously, as much fun as sabotage was, Buck’s real talent was talking up Eddie and Chris.

“Honestly, I feel so lucky to even know them. Chris is such a great kid, and Eddie really does go above and beyond.”

It was so much fun because he wasn’t even lying. He got to be as exaggerated and over the top as he wanted—whenever he got a little over the top with Chris, he was usually cut off by a pained groan and an adorable, blushing boy. Whenever he tried to get in depth with Eddie, well, Buck could barely get a few words out before Eddie found a much better use for his lips than talking (with his own adorable blush).

“The last fire we were in, Eddie singlehandedly saved a mother and son who were stuck beneath some debris. He’s an all around hero.”

He was talking now, though—and he had an entirely different approach planned out, depending on his audiences. For all the single moms, easily identified as those who couldn’t take their eyes off of Eddie? All he had to do was mention the word “fireman” and he had them eating out of the palm of his hand; and more importantly, racing over to buy a brownie.

For the parents who were more focused on cooing over the kids at the booths, well, Buck had a trick up his sleeve for them, too—it was as easy as pulling out his phone, scrolling through any number of the photos he had taken the night prior. His personal favorite was one of Chris, eyes bright with laughter, a blob of brownie batter at the end of his nose. He didn’t have to say anything—as soon as they saw that, they were shoving money into Eddie’s helmet.

Eddie looked more and more pleasantly confused as the morning carried on, but Chris looked absolutely delighted, and that was all that mattered as far as Buck was concerned.

-

“Wait, Buck, wait. You’re telling me you actually conned donations out of people by showing them pictures of Chris?”

Eddie had tears, literal tears in his eyes as he tried to inhale, gripping his half full beer bottle like a lifeline as he wheezed. Buck probably should have looked a little bashful, but Eddie’s laughter was too good to ignore, warming him from the inside out.

The parents had been thoroughly thanked and sent home before lunchtime, and Buck had taken no small pleasure in peppering Chris with kisses before Eddie pulled him out of the gym. They had both taken full advantage of their weekday off—namely, by napping and watching terrible daytime television—and Chris had barely made it a half hour after dinner before the day (and the sugar rush) caught up with him, crashing hard as Buck carried him to bed.

“Hey, Chris won the pizza party for his class, and trust me, that is a one way ticket to be the most popular kid in class. And I wasn’t lying, some of those cookies were store bought—everyone else in his grade can suck it.” Was it mature? No. But Buck stood by it. He was team Chris, ride or die.

“Buck, you can’t say ‘suck it’ about a bunch of kids.” Eddie tried to get out, but he was laughing again, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he clinked bottles with Buck. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to get to be in Eddie’s space like this—so easily bumping shoulders and elbows and touching so casually, physical signs of affection that Buck had never allowed himself before. Eddie finally got a hold of himself as Buck pushed some of the curls back from his forehead, leaning into the touch easily, his expression nothing short of heart-eyes.

“Well, thank you for saving me from myself yesterday. And, of course, for cracking open the family recipes to help Chris and his school.” Buck blushed again as he sputtered on his mouthful of beer, struggling to swallow, looking up as Eddie cleared his throat.

“It, uh, I found that recipe on the internet.” He said, chewing on his lip, suddenly feeling a little nervous as Eddie smiled at him—and if Buck didn’t know better, he could swear that there was a pink tint to his cheeks..

“Well… I mean, it could be a family recipe now. After all, we made it together, you me and Chris… right?”

Buck’s eyes blew out wide as Eddie laced their fingers together. He hated the way that Eddie’s voice tilted at the end, like he was unsure of himself, and Buck literally had no choice but to pull Eddie into his arms, erasing any doubt from his mind. He had already known that Eddie would be it for him—that he and Chris were the best thing that he was ever going to get, that he would rather die than give this up, but hearing Eddie call them a family?

Holy fuck, Buck was in love.

[prettywordsyouleft]

All I Want For Christmas Is: Chocolate

Summary: all you wanted to do was sell your chocolates at the Christmas market. What you weren’t anticipating was finding someone as gorgeous as Jackson – or dealing his competitive nature over who made the best chocolates this Christmas.

Pairing: Jackson Wang x reader

Genre: enemies to lovers / Christmas au

Warnings: none

Word count: 2240

[All I Want For Christmas Is A Got7 Collab Masterlist]

“What can I offer you, ladies? A sweet, sugary delicacy? Or perhaps something more dark and sinful?”

Rolling your eyes as you watched the man across from your stall openly flirt with a group of women, you attempted to keep your reaction to just that. It was the time of year for festive joy and not for murderous contempt.

And yet that’s all you could manage when it came to Jackson Wang.

When you had been setting up your handmade chocolate stall on the first day of The White Miracle Market, you had been excited to finally get your sweet treats circulating further than your friends and family. It had taken some encouragement to even rent a space at the market this year, and some of your decision had been made because you knew a couple of your friends would be there as well. Still, it was a big deal for you since you had never put yourself out there before.

“Oh hey, chocolates, huh?”

Glancing up from the banner you were working on tying to the stand, you stared at the smiling man before you, silently thanking Santa for giving you your Christmas present early. He was gorgeous, and with the way his hair was brushed away from his face, the warmth of his eyes and the pearly smile he still shined at you, it was amazing you didn’t just get lost staring at his face. You had the foolish audacity to scale the rest of his form, deciding when you were done he was nothing more than a God.

No human had ever looked this good to you before.

Noticing the way he arched an eyebrow at your obvious examination and pursed his lips together, you blinked, rapidly instructing your brain to work.

To say anything.

“I love chocolate,” you breathed as you stared at his eyes, your brain catching up with what you had just uttered, sending a flash of colour across your cheeks. “I mean, making them. I love making chocolates.”

He grinned, folding his arms across his chest and you watched the action as if your entire life depended on it. “We have something in common then.”

“W-We do?”

How could you have anything in common with him? He was out here looking like he should be on the cover of every magazine in his cashmere turtleneck and you were certain you had cocoa powder somewhere in your hair from this morning’s mad dash to make several more batches of chocolates.

“Of course,” he replied with an amused chuckle, pointing to the stall right across from yours. “That’s me.”

Eyes now the size of saucers, you attempted to regain a sense of coherency. “Y-You make chocolates?”

“Not any kind of chocolates,” he oozed and you decided his tone was as sweet as the delicacies you were selling. “Mine are organic and made with fair-trade sourced ingredients.”

Oh.

Swallowing roughly, you attempted to smile. “Wow, that’s really neat.”

“I even have some for dairy-free customers. You never know when you’re going to strike someone with an allergy, right?”

Nodding numbly, you half turned, attempting to straighten out your banner that had fallen sideways when you had lost attention on it. The man moved to assist you, startling you somewhat. “You didn’t tell me your name. I’m Jackson. Jackson Wang.”

As you gave over your own name, you were trying to remain optimistic.

But the light was fading out.

You would spend the next month across from the most handsome man you had ever seen. And what was worse than having him so close to you every day was that he was your only competitor.

It surprised you how well your sales had gone on the opening day of the market. You had been hesitant as you continued setting up, taking glances over in Jackson’s direction now and then. Not only did his stall look professional compared to your more farm-style one, he just exuded an energy that made you feel feeble. Still, your chocolates had garnered a lot of interest and you were rushed off your feet trying to keep up.

“Wow, these are really creamy!”

“I can’t believe the quality of these chocolates. Do you have a website I could order some from in the future?”

“Are you sure these are homemade? They’re out of this world tasty!”

These comments had you rising to the challenge. You held your head high, smiling brightly over at Jackson whenever he caught your eye through the hoards of punters approaching your stall. It wasn’t meant to be a silent offering of battle, rather, you just felt you did indeed have more in common with him like he had mentioned.

You made chocolates and you were doing exceptionally well at selling them.

The next day, however, your success had clearly prompted Jackson to come up with a sales pitch. As people wandered down the small aisle of stalls, he angled himself to catch their attention, graciously calling them over to try real, authentic chocolate.

At first, it hadn’t bothered you but when he mentioned he was certain other people used lesser quality ingredients compared to him, whilst staring at you the entire time, well, it got to you a little. When business died down, you marched over the aisle to his stall, placing your hands on your hips. “Can we talk?”

“Do you want to try some, Y/N? I’ll give you a taste that will blow your mind.”

You were too worked up to fully be affected by the way his eyelashes fluttered or that he purposely leaned into you either. You dug your hands further into your sides, making no move to take his offering. “We can co-exist here, Jackson.”

“Of course we can, isn’t that what we are doing? You’re doing your little treats and I’m over here with my organic delicacies. There’s room for us both.”

“You’re acting as if my chocolates are worthless and I’ve heard you say more than once today that mine are poorly made. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I said nothing about you. I merely said other chocolates-”

“Whilst staring at me-”

“Just don’t have the same impact as mine does. That’s all,” he continued as if you hadn’t interrupted him, smiling smugly as he placed down his samples container. “I definitely didn’t mean any hard feelings about it. I’m just selling my products how I usually do.”

“Right, well please try to be more considerate. It’s the Christmas season and we’re all here for the same reason. I’m not going to stamp all over you so let’s share the space together.”

You turned to walk off when he scoffed, hearing the words he spoke under his breath before greeting new customers to his booth.

Like you could even match me.

As you returned to your own stand, you watched on as he worked on his selling pitch, his eyes casting over in your direction.

Instead of shrinking away you squared your jaw, shooting him back a challenging look.

If he wanted to make this personal, you would have no issues in proving just how well you matched up to him.

It was now war.

Over the following week, running your stall at the market had become exhausting. It wasn’t from all the chocolates you made each day to supply the demand for them or even the daily setup and closure of your booth.

It was from dealing with Jackson and his outlandish ways.

Your sales dipped when he started to offer a new caramel flavour to his menu, and when you came up with the idea of bulk bins, you definitely stole the show. Sure, you had people who would buy from both stalls to keep everyone happy, but on a whole, it was a race to see who could get a potential buyer to come over first.

You drew the line at openly flirting to make a sale though.

“Don’t you want to try a line or two on me?” a bored sounding tone wondered and you looked up at the man, noticing he was from the ticket booth. Your forehead creased as you tried to decipher his question. Jerking his head in the direction of Jackson leaning over his stall and talking up a set of women, you groaned, shaking your head.

“I don’t play that dirty,” you answered gruffly and he lazily grinned, picking up several bags of the chocolates.

“Oi, Jinyoung! What the hell?! Get over here!” Jackson called when he saw who was spending his time perusing your chocolates and you blinked slowly as Jinyoung, as you now knew him as, pushed some money into your hand.

He held up the treats. “Thanks for this. Not only will I have something to get me through the hell that is my shift, but I got to piss Jackson off too.”

“Uh, thanks for your purchase!” you called as he trudged off, leaving you wide-eyed and unprepared for Jackson’s approach.

“How many did he buy?”

“What?”

“Your chocolates! How many?”

“Six packs.”

“Six?! That cheap asshole told me he couldn’t even afford to buy two from me!”

“Well, your prices are higher than mine. You know, to cover all those harder to source, fair-trade and less of an unethical footprint on the Earth chocolates of yours.”

Jackson raked an unsteady hand through his hair. “I’m watching you.”

“For what?! This is ridiculous, don’t you think?” you finally announced, gesturing between you both. “We’re making fucking chocolates, Jackson. This isn’t some multi-corporate thing but just a side business for the holidays. I admire your pride in your creations, but we’re acting so pathetic fighting over who does better! I’m done caring anymore. As long as it stops you throwing yourself at women to catch their attention with your handsome face, it’ll make the rest of this market that much smoother to put up with if we stop competing over who is better!”

Jackson couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m handsome?”

“Is that all you got from what I just said?” you whined, shaking your head incredulously.

“Actually, I got a whole lot more from it.” His face now thoughtful, Jackson reached over and gently took a hold of your forearm.

You’d be lying if you said that, even if you had wanted to murder this asshole all week long, Jackson touching you didn’t make you shiver with delight. You were tingling all over when he smiled genuinely at you. “Tomorrow, can I come over to yours? I think I have a great idea.”

Despite being hesitant, Jackson coming over to your apartment to make chocolates had been the best decision you had made. You shared recipes and tricks you had each learned in the process of making chocolates. And you had found a way to come together, creating the best batches of chocolate you had ever tasted.

Of course, they were a hit at the market too.

“Weren’t you two opposite each other last time I was here?” a man asked as he took a sample, his face lighting up with the taste. “And these have improved!”

“We decided we had a lot more in common than we thought and combined our styles. Would you like to purchase any of our chocolates?” Jackson pitched and the man bought ten.

That day you made more sales than you had in an entire week. And you sold out before the market closed that the next day you tripled the amount you made together with Jackson.

As you packaged up the treats and handed them to Jackson to place into one of the storage bins, you smiled at him. “You know, we make a good team.”

“You’re only just realising this now?”

Rolling your eyes, you nudged him playfully as you handed him another package. “We should have joined forces earlier than fighting over who had the best chocolates.”

“I’m glad we took our time though,” Jackson replied and you frowned, glancing at him curiously. He grinned, nudging you back. “I can’t lie and say it wasn’t fun.”

“It was fun for you?!”

“Seeing you light up as you tried to out-pitch me was really attractive, Y/N. I sure got to see a whole different side to you that I wouldn’t, had we remained civil.”

“A-Attractive?”

“You don’t think it was just you checking someone out, right?” Jackson wondered with a laugh. “When I first saw you, I thought Santa had-”

“Given you an early present this year,” you finished off for him, and Jackson gaped at you. You giggled. “I guess we both had the same intentions from the beginning.”

“To make the best chocolates and be in the company of someone gorgeous?” Jackson offered as you blushed, handing him another package. He took your hand instead, smiling at you in a way that made you feel as if it was made just for you. All the air was knocked out of you, and you scolded yourself for still falling trap to his charms.

“I mean, making the best chocolates is a given, right?” you managed, attempting to restart your heart by looking away.

Jackson then popped a piece of chocolate into your mouth, surprising you as you felt it began to melt upon your tongue. He then swiftly leaned in to kiss you, this kiss sweeter than anything you had ever tasted before.

When he pulled back, he grinned. “You’re right; we really do make the best chocolates.”

_________________

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[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Operation Sweet Surprise (2/3)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader (Romantic or Platonic)

Warnings: Cursing 

Inside the store, you began hunting down the items you needed with Lester in tow. He offered to hold the basket for you so you could focus on making sure you got exactly what you were after.

“Okay, Lester. We need: milk, pie crust, vanilla extract, cinnamon, brown sugar, baking powder, and eight apples. So, if you see anything and I don’t just toss it in the basket!” you told him as your eyes started scanning the shelves.

“Yes, ma’am!” Lester said with a playful salute. 

One by one, you found each ingredient, checking them off your mental list as you went. Throughout your expedition, you couldn’t help but notice other shoppers keeping their distance from you two. Of course, you knew exactly why they were acting this way. The smell of roadkill lingering on Lester’s raggedy exterior offended their delicate senses. The way some made a show of holding their breath or how their side eyes were more like dead on stares was not lost on you. It certainly wasn’t lost on Lester. With every murmur and scoff, he would offer an apologetic smile and a wave, but you could see his head sink lower and lower each time. This sort of thing didn’t always bother him, but sometimes it was hard to ignore. People always assumed he was oblivious to how his presence affected them, but he was more than aware. Frankly, he wished they would quit reminding him. Though every part of you wanted to snap at each shopper that passed you by, you elected to focus on lifting Lester’s spirits to distract him,

“Alright, all that’s left is to pick out some apples! C’mon and help me out!” you said with the biggest smile you could muster. You’d rather be glaring daggers, but you knew the other shoppers were hardly worth it. You took Lester’s hand and pulled him toward the small produce section “Which kind of apples do you think Bo would like best?”

“Not sure…” Lester said looking back and forth, checking to make sure no one was staring again, “Maybe I oughta wait in the truck. Don’t wanna bother no one else from their shopping.”

“No, don’t go! I need you!” you begged, “Besides, who cares what they think?”

“Well, I’m used to it. Just don’t want ‘em thinkin’ bad of ya, is all.” He said shyly

“Oh, please, don’t worry about that. I like spending time with you, Lester. I don’t give a shit about any of them. Who needs them?” You said, waving off his concern with a laugh “Now, help me pick out some apples.” The smile reached Lester’s eyes this time as he helped you pick out the best apples out of the bunch.

Once you had your apples picked, something caught your glance over Lester’s shoulder. It was an elderly woman, reaching for a box of cereal that was clearly too high on the shelf for her to get. Lester followed your eyes and immediately handed the basket over to you. He quickly made his way over to the lady. You followed close behind, catching the interaction,

“I can get that for ya, if ya like.” Lester offered sweetly with his signature grin. The woman staggered back, affronted at his proximity. She put a hand over her nose and mouth, her sour expression still apparent. Though she scowled at him, Lester kept smiling back at her. When she remained silent, he pointed to the box he thought she wanted, “This one? Good choice! Ya know, I hear this one’s good for the heart. Supposed to keep ya young and spry.” She didn’t reply, tapping her foot impatiently. He pulled the box down from the shelf and held it out to her, “There ya go. Need help with anythin’ else?”  

“No.” she said shortly, as she ripped the box from his hands and turned away.

“Alright…have a nice day, I guess.” Lester said, frustration showing through, “Just tryin’ to help ya.”

“Excuse me!” You piped in, “My friend just helped you, and I think you’re being incredibly rude to him.”

“Y/N, it’s alright-”

“No, it isn’t. You helped her and she treated you like garbage.” You said angrily. You were tired of watching people walk all over him. He might’ve been good enough to let it go, but you weren’t, “Who raised you? Didn’t anyone teach you anything about kindness?”

“How dare you speak to me like that? You should learn to respect your elders, young lady.” the old woman finally responded, “In my day, helping older folks was expected. Our generation didn’t need a pat on the back every time we did the bare minimum. What do you want? A reward?”

“Well, I grew up at least saying a ‘thank you’ when someone helped me. I don’t think that’s asking a lot. Just want you to treat my friend with a bit of decency.” You snapped, your knuckles turning white as you tightened your grip on your basket.

“Decency? I’ve shown plenty of decency by not demanding you both be thrown out of the store. I don’t usually tolerate uncivilized spoiled brats, like you two.” The woman stuck up her nose and pinched it, “You reek of squalor, so it seems to me you were the ones who are lacking an upbringing.”

“Uncivilized? Lady, you’re the one who doesn’t have any god damn manners! If anyone’s acting uncivilized here, it’s you!” you hissed venomously, taking a step toward the woman. Lester stopped you in your tracks, allowing the woman to turn and shamble away cursing you under her breath, both offended and threatened by you.

“Hey, hey, don’t pay any attention to her. She ain’t worth it.” Lester said, patting your shoulder.

“She shouldn’t be allowed to treat you like that.” You said still a bit heated.  

“It’s like ya said, ‘Who needs ‘em?’” Lester said surprisingly relaxed about the whole situation, “But let’s get goin’ ‘fore she gets us kicked out like she said.”

You started toward the register and got in line. There were quite a few people ahead of you as everyone was out getting their groceries for the week, no doubt. Lester took the basket back as you waited together. You were about to ask him about cleaning animal bones to lighten the mood before he chimed in first,

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“For what?” you asked with a tilt of your head.

“Stickin’ up for me ‘n all. It sure was somethin’.” He said with a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks, “I know I don’t smell too great, so bein’ with me ain’t always fun. But ya never treat me any worse for it, and it means a lot.”

“Aw, Lester, you don’t have to thank me for that. I enjoy spending time with you, it’s hardly a chore.” You said as you rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Still…I know I yammer on and I don’t know when to shut up. Most people can’t stand me, it ain’t a secret. Didn’t make too many friends growin’ up ‘cuz of it and it didn’t get any easier once I started workin’…” Lester explained, “I tried to keep the smell off, but it’s harder than it looks, ya know. And after a while, I figured if people don’t want anythin’ to do with me anyway, I might as well just leave it be.”

“Lester…” you said sympathetically, trying not to knock the basket out of his hands and wrap him up in a hug and protect him from the world.

“’Sides, I love my job. I really do. And if I smell, I can make like that’s the reason people don’t like me.” He added with a half-hearted laugh to take the edge off the truth of it all “Anyway, just wanted to thank ya for bein’ nice to me.”

Before you could respond, it was your turn to check out. Lester instantly starting chatting away with the cashier, going on about knives and the small items for sale at the register. You smiled to yourself, watching him. Even if others continued to put him down, Lester always got right back to it. You had no idea how he kept going sometimes. You attention was drawn away from him as the total came up on the screen.

“Shit.” You cursed quietly to yourself. You counted your money back, hoping maybe you had more than you thought, to no avail. You were five dollars short. You looked over your items trying decide what you could part with. All of them were necessary to the recipe so you not only could you not decide, you were embarrassed that you had underestimated how much you’d need to spend.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Lester whispered as he leaned in, also looking at the groceries, “Missin’ somethin’?”

“I don’t have enough…” you trailed off, trying to work through a solution in the next two minutes, trying not to keep others waiting whilst also not drawing attention to your crisis

“Apples?” Lester suggested, “I’ll run on back and get some more, if ya need!”

“Money…I don’t have enough for everything.” You said, unable to stop your voice from shaking from the sudden tears that brimmed in your eyes. Lester snapped to attention at the tremble in your voice.

“Aw, please don’t cry! How much do ya need?” he asked as he scrambled to comfort you. He rubbed awkward circles into your back, moving you back and forth with his clumsy motions. Even in distress, you found his gesture to be sweet.

“Five dollars.” You confessed as your face went hot with anxiety.

“That ain’t so bad! I got it!” Lester said happily, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a crumpled bill. He might have said it like wasn’t a big deal, but you knew money was always tight for the Sinclairs. While Lester did make the most steady income out of all of them, he didn’t have a whole lot of money to throw around, “See, don’t need to panic!”

“You don’t have to do this! You work hard for your money, I can ditch something, I think. Don’t waste it on me.” You said in a panic. You’d already asked so much of him already; you couldn’t let him do this too.

“Well, I do work hard. So, I suppose that means I can spend my money how I want.” Lester said cheekily. He gathered up your money with his and handed it over, “And I wanna give it to ya. ‘Sides, I oughta pitch somethin’ in. It’s for my brothers after all.”

“Thank you, Lester…I really owe you.” you said as your apprehension drained from your posture and voice. You almost cried from his generosity, rather than humiliation.

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Lester said sweetly, nudging your shoulder to help you shake off the sadness that had almost overtaken you. He carried your groceries toward the door and back to the truck, “C’mon we gotta lotta bakin’ to do!”  

You were a bit distracted on the ride back. Lester was chattering on about skulls again, but your mind wandered back to what he said while you waited in line. You wouldn’t say you’d done anything extraordinary for him. All you did was talk to him and treat him like any human should be treated. Still, that was more than he’d ever received from anyone. You couldn’t help but stare at him. Beside you was a man who has always been treated like he wasn’t worth the time. No one cared about what he had to say or how he felt, and they told him so to his face. Despite all that, he still turned out to be incredibly generous, kind, helpful, and by far the most warmhearted person you knew.

And it wasn’t because the insults and the neglect went over his head. You knew he felt the sting of it all. It was because he kept moving along. You had no idea how he was able to let it all roll off his back, but you simply attributed it to Lester being remarkable. Sure, he got disappointed when others didn’t want to talk to him, but he never got too hung up on it for long. He was always able to find joy in other parts of his life. Not only that, he was capable of sharing that joy with others; at least, he was always willing. Lester had a heart of gold and it left a bitter taste knowing that if life had been fairer – or society more kind – he’d might have become something truly special. Not that you didn’t like him just as he was; you thought he was wonderful. It was just such a shame that he had so many wonderful things to offer and you were the only one who could see that. All because his chances were spoiled before he ever really got to living.

“Do you ever get mad, Lester?” you asked, accidentally cutting him off from his rant about knives.

“Sure, I do. Sometimes.” Lester said with a goofy grin still pulling as his face. His smile turned into curiosity and a bit of confusion as he thought over your question a second time, “Wait, mad ‘bout what?”

“I don’t know. Do you ever wish things were different?”

“Different how?”

“Like, do you ever think about what it might’ve been like if you were born somewhere else or into a different life entirely? Like all the what ifs and maybes? Just for fun?” you added

“Hmmm…” Lester thought out loud, “Nope.”

“Really? Never?” you asked in disbelief.

“Naw, I like what I got.” He said smiling once again, never more content, “And ‘sides, I got you now. Wouldn’t know ya if I was born someplace else. Don’t wanna go riskin’ that, do I?” you felt your heart skip a beat and blood rush to your cheeks.

“And they say Bo’s the one with all the charm.” You mumbled to yourself, catching a glimpse of Lester, oblivious and carefree as ever. He really had no clue how incredible he was.

[nexttrickanvils]

MI Fic: Beware of Karen

Title: Beware of Karen

Ships: Guybrush/Elaine, past Stan/OC (if you could call that mess a relationship)

Notes: So this is the result of lots of jokes and headcanon swapping with @captmickey. Hope you enjoy. ;)

---------

Throughout his adventures, Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate(TM) had seen the strange and impossible…

...And yet none of it compared to the sight of perpetual grifter, Stan S. Stanman standing on a dock before the Screaming Narwhal with a sleeping roll and other items in his (still flailing, how does he do that) arms.

“Guybrush! Good to see you! How’s the wife?”

“...She’s fine?” Guybrush remarked glancing at an equally baffled Elaine to his right.

“What...exactly are you doing here?”

“Haha! A good question! Typical of a smart man such as yourself! See, I need a favor and I figured we’ve been such good friends for so long...”

“You sold me a cruddy ship, I locked you in a coffin, scammed your life insurance business, you tried to sell me a timeshare, and tried to prosecute me on false charges. I don’t think “friends” is the word I’d use.”

At that, Stan’s usual bluster and “charming” salesman smile deflated like a really sad balloon.

“Alright alright. I know we haven’t exactly been on the same page but you’re the only one I actually trust with this.”

Okay that got Guybrush’s attention.

“This being?”

“I need a place to stay. Maybe a few days maybe a week. It shouldn’t be too long… hopefully”

Guybrush and Elaine glanced at each other, warriness and a little bit of annoyance obvious on both their faces.

They were planning on sailing off tomorrow and continuing their Multi-Island Anniversary Vacation. Elaine especially was looking forward to this after all the craziness with the Pox Incident… and the LeWalrus Incident before that. Winslow was even nice enough to be willing to stay at Spinner Cay with Anemone and the rest of the Merfolk so the two could have their space.

Then came Stan like a bad penny.

“Stan… we’re-” Guybrush attempted to explain

“We’re in the middle of something. As a couple. As in something for just the two of us.” Elaine added

“Don’t worry! Ol’ Stan here will be quiet as a mouse!”

Guybrush pinched his nose in frustration at Stan’s refusal to take no for an answer.

“Stan… why do you want to stay with us anyway? What? You couldn’t scam yourself a hotel room?”

“I take personal offense to that, my friends!”

“We’re not friends.” Elaine interrupted

But Stan ignored that and continued, “See I’ve been a businessman for a long time and in that field of work, I’ve met many a character, believe you me! I’ve crossed paths with the prickliest pirates, the saltiest of sea dogs, the most brackish of buccaneers...”

Guybrush muttered to Elaine, “What’s “brackish” mean?”

“I think it just means unpleasant, dear.” Elaine responded

“But none of them! None of those pillaging plunderers hold a candle to the most frightening person in the Caribbean… KAREN!”

Was… was he joking?

Is this one of those weird Pirate Prank Plays?

Was there a hidden audience ready to burst out and laugh at him?

“Unless Karen is LeChuck’s first name… which would be hilarious I can’t lie, I don’t think I see the threat.” Guybrush replied

“Who is Karen anyway?”

“Oh… she uh… she’s… err… she’s my ex-wife.”

An awkward silence hung between the three…

“Alright Guybrush, pull up the anchor.”

“WAIT! Listen I understand that I may have a… unique relationship with the truth but please believe me when I say that Karen is the absolute worst person imaginable and if she finds out that I’m on this island, I am a dead man!”

Okay… wow… even after racking his brain, Guybrush couldn’t really remember seeing Stan so… terrified (well okay the coffin thing but that’s uh something else.) He looked over to Elaine and could tell that she was still less than sympathetic.

Not that he could blame her. A guy, known for exaggeration and bullshit, shows up to your ship and tells you how his ex-wife is somehow WORSE than LeChuck? Not a good look.

But obviously Stan was not gonna go away, Guybrush had to think of something.

“Okay, listen, Stan. Elaine and I are trying to have a nice private vacation as a couple. But since you seem so worried, why don’t I just go talk to Karen?”

“ARE YOU CRAZY!? Stronger men than you have buckled before her! No, it’s better for all involved to just get out of dodge!”

Guybrush just gave a cocky grin in response, “Stronger men, but not wittier. Believe me after dealing with you for years, I think I can handle this.”

Stan merely sighed and muttered, “Sounds like I need to go back to the coffin business because it's your funeral.”

Guybrush turned to Elaine and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Don’t worry Plunderbunny, I’ll get this done quickly and we can get right back to our vacation.”

“Oh alright but you owe me a shoulder massage after all this.”

The Mighty Pirate(TM) shot a wink and began to disembark The Screaming Narwhal.

---------

Before long the two were making their way through a marketplace full of merchants, scam artists, and those in between.

“So… how did you and Karen meet?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Yikes, Stan doesn’t want to talk about something? Maybe… this wasn’t a good idea…

...WELL IN FOR A PIECE OF EIGHT!

“Why’d you divorce? Or is that too personal?”

“We began to see each other as competition. And Karen is quite ruthless to anyone she sees as competition.”

Before Guybrush could ask further, a pained high scream rang through the market. A female pirate ran past him and Stan screaming about her eyes as she covered them.

“You’ll thank me when you have to beat the men away with a club!” shouted another woman

“...It’s her.”

Guybrush turned to where Stan was glaring and immediately spotted a woman in a jacket and plaid pencil skirt. Her hair was closely cropped with some parts flared up or sticking out. In her hand was one of those fancy looking glass perfume bottles. Her face was covered in way-too much make-up for one person and she had a pure white salesman smile similar to Stan.

“Karen...”

The woman turned to them and immediately her smile dropped.

“...Stan.”

Hoo boy, Guybrush was wearing a coat and he could feel the chill between these two. Better step in before things get more awkward.

“Um excuse me?”

“Hm?”

Guybrush straightened himself and adjusted his coat.

“I’m Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate™.”

“Uh-huh, that’s nice.” Karen remarked with little enthusiasm

She then turned to Stan and shot him a smug look, “You know Stan, I always said you couldn’t find better than me but wow you really dug rock bottom.”

Stan just continued to glare at her while it took a second for Guybrush to realize what she was saying.

“Oh, oh no! Stan and I are just… acquaintances… who keep running into each other. I’m happily spoken for to the most beautiful ex-government official in the Caribbean.” Guybrush explained, showing off the ring on his finger

Guybrush wasn’t sure what happened next; one moment there seemed to be a glint in Karen’s eyes and then he found himself pulled away from Stan with one of her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Oh you’re married huh? Can’t imagine the Missus being too thrilled to see you spending time with someone like Stan.”

“Uh...I mean… you’re not wrong”

“You look like the kind of guy who’s just one mistake away from the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“I… um… actually Elaine and I-”

“A lady likes to be treated… um… Gasbroom was it?”

“Guybrush… but I’m not here to bu-”

“Of course, of course. And you say she’s ex-government? Well clearly you somehow found a woman of class who deserves only the classiest -and most expensive- items in my collection!~”

Thankfully before Karen could continue with her sales pitch, Guybrush felt Stan pulling him back and he suddenly felt more clear headed. It was almost like a spell had been broken. Or maybe he was now further from the perfume fumes and wasn’t feeling as dizzy.

Karen glared at Stan and crossed her arms.

“Hmph, I see you haven’t changed a bit, Stan. You just can’t stand the mere IDEA of someone buying something from someone other than you.”

“This isn’t about sales and you know it, Karen.”

Guybrush pushed himself away from Stan and faced Karen.

“Listen, I just wanted to talk to you and clear up all… whatever this is!” Guybrush exclaimed, pointing his finger between the two

At that, Karen began to laugh.

“Oh, sweetie, there is no fixing that mess. And that mess could also be in your future if you don’t...”

“I’m not buying anything!” Guybrush snapped

“Oh… no wonder your marriage is on the rocks.”

“HEY! My marriage has survived curses, evil undead voodoo jerks, and my mother-in-law! I think it can survive not buying your stuff”

“See this is what she does! She lies and insults you every way to get you to buy from her!”

Guybrush couldn’t help but side-eye Stan as he remarked, “Isn’t that what you do?”

“Oh no no no. What I do is a little something called Cold Reading. A skill of the trade. All she does is push you down and down until you can’t take it anymore!”

“...Again, sounds like what you do.”

“I agree with Stan, how dare you compare my mercantile skills to this idiot who couldn’t sell a used ship to a pair of monkeys!”

“AT LEAST I DON’T TEST MY WARES ON THE MONKEYS!”

“Still spreading those lies and slander are we? I think we’re done here, Stan. Leave now and if I see your face around here or worse yet, try to set up shop near me. I will have the Island authorities on you like flies on a zombie.”

“BUT! You’re at a marketplace! You can’t have someone arrested for running a business near you!” Shouted Guybrush

Karen smirked, “True but I can if this is what I tell them...”

Instantly Karen pulled out a handkerchief and started crying (without any actual tears, can’t smudge the make-up after all.)

“I-It’s my ex-husband, sir! He-he won’t leave me alone! I just want to run my business in peace but he just keeps harassing me!”

In an instant, the “oh woe is me” act is dropped and that smirk came back.

“Have I made myself clear? Now go on, shoo! You’re scaring off customers.”

Realizing that there was no winning here, Guybrush and Stan began to turn around and walk away. But not before…

“Hey! Goibersh!”

“...It’s Guybru-”

Quickly Guybrush caught a tube of lipstick that Karen tossed at him before it could hit him in the face.

“Consider this a free sample. And when your dear lady inevitably demands more, you’re free to come crawling back to me without Stan.”

With that, Karen went straight back to harassing another “customer” passing by.

“Stan...”

“Yes Guybrush?”

“You can stay on the ship. THIS DOES NOT MAKE US FRIENDS! But I’d feel like a jerk if I just left you to her “mercy.””

“...Thanks. Maybe if we survive this, I’ll give you a ten percent discount on my next business venture.”

“ONLY TEN PERCENT!?”