#I squinted and they did the same thing for the dialogue button and talk screens- his silhouette is where phoenix’s would be

[puppyeared]

Bridge to turnabout doodles

[anon-rebel-writes]

Late Night Talks

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day!

So this is a new story (yay!), and I wrote this for my girlfriend! She asked me not to tag her for privacy reasons, but I hope she loves this because this is actually based on a real event!

A quick background, we confessed through the phone and this story is heavily based on that. A lot of the feelings Luka feels are things that I actually felt! The dialogue is pretty similar too (obviously some things are cut out or edited to fit Luka and Mari lol)

My “just-a-friend” got me into MLB and we both love Lukanette, so I thought it’d be fitting to write her a story about Lukanette, based on us, for one of her gifts! Happy birthday, my love! I hope you (and everyone else reading this XD) enjoy it!

The story begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft light from his phone covered his face, forcing his eyes to squint in order to see clearly. His thumb unconsciously moved across the screen, opening up random apps before quickly closing them just to open them again.

The boat was fairly quiet. During the day, he could hear the different movements and various noises from his mother and sister, but this late at night merely left the sounds of waves from the Seine below him. The natural creaking of the boat usually left him relaxed and helped him fall asleep.

Although lately his nights had been occupied by other things, especially one girl.

Luka shifted in his bed, trying to engulf himself in more warmth from his blankets. Did his mattress always feel this stiff and uncomfortable? He never paid it much attention before, it never mattered before. Maybe it was just his mind trying to find something to think about.

He glanced at the time near the top of his screen and saw it was ten after midnight. Well at least it’s not too late yet, or maybe it wasn’t too early yet? She never texted him extremely late (or extremely early). Was it late? When did he care about time so much?

The only reason he thought about the time lately was because of her.

Luka shifted again, pulling up the blanket to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks. He continued to open apps just to close them again. He sighed and turned off the phone, letting the room dim and his eyes rest. Why did this feel so desperate? He used to see himself as a ‘go with the flow’ guy, but she had found a way into his heart and made him question his entire life.

When had he ever checked his phone this much? If she decided to text him tonight (as she had been doing for the past couple of nights), would immediately replying make him seem obsessed? He didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Didn't girls like when guys text fast? She hasn’t seemed to mind it so far. Then again, his only source of reference was his sister, and getting her to reply to him took years off his life.

His phone beeped and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. Luka quickly sat up and hurried to read the message.

‘SOS Can’t sleep again :( Think I might need a ~Luka~ to help (^-^)’

He covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the smile consuming his face. When did his nights become like this? Maybe it was desperate to wait for a text, but when the text came from Marinette, he couldn’t find a reason to be upset.

This girl seemed to bring him a whole new type of happiness, even if he was too nervous to text her first. He wanted to give her space and be comfortable around him, so waiting until midnight for a text never bothered him.

While seeing her throughout the day was always amazing, there was a different feeling that came with their late night talks. The fact that she needed to sleep and came to him for help gave him a warmth in his chest he never knew before. Although sometimes it made him feel selfish, seeing as she tended to talk to him when she was tired.

‘Luckily this Luka is always able to help :)’

And he really was always able to help, at least he tried to be. Luka helped everyone. Whether it was his family, friends, strangers, co-workers, he always lended a hand. But when it came to Marinette, he’d drop everything to run to her.

‘Yesss! Call me! Mama needs some Luka time!’

He tried to stifle a laugh and rolled his eyes at his phone. His body was hunched over the edge of the bed, watching his phone with intense eyes, as if the messages would disappear if he looked away.

In the mornings, he always found himself worried about that, as if the night before only existed in his mind. He’d hurry back to his phone to re-read the messages, making sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who chased off his nightmares and reinvented his dreams, really spent her night with him. Even if it was through a screen, even if it was for an hour, the messages were there to remind him that for a moment, she was his and he was hers. He was always hers, if she wanted him to be.

Luka slowly leaned back onto his bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He put one hand behind his head and took a deep breath. His calm personality wasn’t an act, Luka was definitely a level-headed person, but he was still human. And as a human, a pretty girl talking to him late at night gave him lots of nerves.

He quickly shook off any tension he felt and pressed the call button. The phone only rang once before the sweetest voice he’d ever heard took over. “Hi Luka! Sorry, I know it’s late and everything, but I couldn’t sleep and… Oh wait, you told me I shouldn’t apologize, sorry! Or- wait, I just said sorry. Wow, I’m sorry- Shoot! I said it again-”

She was rambling, rotating between apologizing to him and trying to explain why she called him. As much as he loved (was that too serious of a word?) her, he also knew that if he didn’t reel her in, she’d spiral out of control.

“Don’t worry, Mari, you’re fine. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect this. I mean, calling a boy so late at night… not once, but multiple times in a row? How scandalous of you, Mel’.”

He heard a scoff through the phone and a lot of rustling. “Oh Luka, you should know I am the most scandalous of girls. In case you haven’t heard, I call lots of boys and girls at night.” Her voice took on a fake sounding ‘tough guy’ accent. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “Wow boys andgirls? I didn’t know I was talking to a criminal.”

Honestly at this point he wouldn’t put it past her to be a criminal, she seemed to have a habit of stealing people’s hearts. He’d never tell her that though. One, she seemed to have a strange distaste for bad jokes, two, that meant he’d have to admit that he liked her (but the word ‘like’ didn’t seem strong enough).

“What?! I wouldn’t take it that far! I’m a total supporter of the law!”

Luka moved the phone from his ear to his chest. His face pinched tightly, trying to hold back any laughter that formed. His body tensed up from holding it in, as much as Juleka definitely deserved some payback for the loud laughing she tended to do so late at night, he really didn’t want to deal with a cranky sister. He quickly moved the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kinda funny how different we are, not that I don’t support the law. It’s just when you have a mom like mine, it’s kinda hard to keep it in mind.” Marinette laughed through the phone and his chest felt like it was on fire.

Everything about her was so sweet, her laugh, her personality, she was amazing. Even when the mornings came and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep, he would never change these moments with her for anything in the world.

Sounds of fabric and movement came through the speaker along with a small hum of agreement. “Yeah I am pretty amazing at following the law. It’s kinda like a job at this point… Not that I have a job with the law! I don’t do that. That would be weird. Uh- anyways! Your job! Wait, that's not exciting. Oh man I’m so nervous tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Melody, it’s fine. My job isn’t very exciting, but I’m sure your day was, right? Mind telling me about it? You know I love listening to you.”

A gasp came through the other end of the phone and then a very thorough retelling of the events from the day. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined everything she told him. She left the bakery this morning to hang out with Alya, she probably wore that new beret she made, along with some cute, pink shoes to match.

He imagined her sitting under a tree at the park to draw, it was sunny and hot today, so she probably took her jacket off to get comfortable. She told him how she went out to get orange juice with Kagami, he could practically hear her smile through the phone as she told him about it.

Everything with Marinette was simple, by no means easy, but simple. He knew her well enough to understand how she felt, and she was the same way with him. They just got each other. She didn’t need to tell him the details because she knew he would already know. When he tried to explain a decision he made in a new song, she didn’t have to know what he was saying to understand him. Luka found it easy to just ignore the details, because Marinette was talented enough to fill them in herself.

Luka stayed quiet as he processed her words, filling in the details himself. He loved spending his nights like this, he didn’t mind messing with his sleeping schedule (or lack thereof). He loved to replay every moment of sincerity and kindness she showed throughout her day. He loved to hear about new projects she worked on, because her talent went beyond anything he’d ever seen.

She was miraculous.

“-But yeah, I guess that was my day! Not super exciting, but I think it was okay? I hope it was, at least.” Exciting? That was just one of the many adjectives he could use to describe her. Talented, exciting, clumsy, but so intelligent. Even on her dull days, he got excited just hearing her about random thoughts she had throughout the day. “Marinette… you’re extraordinary, honestly. Your day sounds wonderful. You’re wonderful. I don't know- You make me feel wonderful.”

Was he oversharing? Probably. He was definitely bad with words, but he wasn’t lying. His hands fisted his shirt as he waited for a response. The other end of the phone call went strangely silent. He could faintly hear the hum of the phone and the waves of the water outside his window. Why did the phone get quiet?

The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. What if he told her too much? A soft squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the phone. “Um-! That’s...really sweet, Luka! You’re wonderful too… Or- Extraordinary I mean! You make me feel extraordinary, all the time. So- I don’t know, thank you?” His chest tightened. How much longer could he keep up with this act?

Pretending to be ‘just a friend’ might be easier for some people, but it was torture for him. Did she have these late night talks with other people? Did she ever hold anyone else’s hands when hers feels cold? Did she ever kiss them on the cheek to say goodbye? Luka was never one to push his luck, despite protests from his sister and mom, but nights like tonight made it hard.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth, Mari. I should be thanking you, for making my nights a lot better, y’know?”

It was the truth. But there was so much more he could say. All of her quirks and amazing qualities always left his head feeling dizzy. He could write symphonies merely based on the person she was, let alone his feelings for her.

Yet he always kept those melodies to himself, even if he wanted to share them with the world, or share them with her. Nights like these make him feel like he could take on anything life throws at him. For Marinette, he probably could.

Another squeal came through the phone and a loud thud. He quickly sat up in a panic and pressed the phone even closer to his ear. “Marinette? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Loud thumping came through the receiver and more panicked sounds.

“S-sorry! That was just- I just- Ugh… I dropped my phone, sorry. You just- you should know that… This is gonna sound lame, but you make my nights better too… Heck, I even listen to your cover songs throughout the day, so I guess you make my days better too? Wait, that sounds weird, sorry! I don’t mean to say it in a weird way...”

Luka’s eyes widened and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat out of his chest. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest and grabbed tightly onto his shirt. The breath leaving him was shaky and weak. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

All at once, the feelings he tried to hide came boiling over and any sensible thought that told him to conceal his affections raced out of his mind. Before he could stop himself, Luka’s mouth moved on its own.

“Can we facetime? Or anything similar to that, please?”

Without getting an answer, his phone started ringing. He turned the phone to his face and saw himself staring back. As soon as Luka answered the call his eyes wandered across his screen, taking in Marinette’s face.

Her hair was still in pigtails, but different strands stuck out in an adorable way. The camera showed her snuggled into her bed as she laid on her side, with her pink comforter pulled over her lower face, covering her cheeks and nose. A large cat pillow rested just behind her head, unnervingly staring at him. Because most of her face was hidden, Luka noticed her eyes, and suddenly he felt very self aware of his position.

Quickly laying back down on his bed, Luka awkwardly raised one arm to lay behind his head, trying to feign an relaxed appearance. He tried to give her the closest thing to an easygoing smile as he could manage at the moment, which definitely felt a little forced seeing as how he was now (sort of) face to face with Marinette. Trying to hide any tension he was feeling, he cleared his throat, inwardly hoping she couldn’t read how nervous he was.

“Uh- Hey, Mar- Melody. Love the cat pillow. Totally don’t feel like it’s about to jump into your phone and attack me.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, attempting to cover her laughter. Her eyes scrunched, smile widened, and Luka’s heart soared. Marinette managed to roll onto her back letting the beautiful sound ring throughout the room. The blanket dropped and uncovered the entirety of her face.

After a moment of joy, she tried to quickly recollect herself. She turned her head back to the phone and stuck out her tongue. “Silly. Just so you know I’m banning you from making me laugh this late again. You’re gonna make my stomach hurt!”

Luka started laughing too, loosely covering his mouth, not caring about waking anyone up anymore. “That’s gonna be a problem, you should know that I’m kinda hilarious, so you should fully expect me to break that rule. Very quickly.”

They both joined in quiet giggling before Marinette covered her mouth with her hand again and gasped. “I just told you that you’re banned from making me laugh!”

“Hey, I warned you! You can’t be mad when I literally just warned you!”

The two teens burst into laughter once more. Luka calmed down quicker than Marinette did, so he saw her laughing face a second time. She was beautiful. Every time he saw her, he swore she wasn’t real. No real person could be as stunning as she was.

Whenever she worked on a new project and her hair flopped over her face, she was gorgeous. The times when she helps their friends out, her eyes are always so gentle, she’s divine. Even when she’s stressed out, the moments when she feels at her lowest, Luka can’t help but notice how angelic she looks.

She’s breathtaking without even trying.

Once Marinette collected herself, her eyes turned soft and precious as she looked back at the phone. Even through a screen, her stare set his soul on fire. His mind went blank for a second before he lost all sense of reason.

“Did you really mean it when you said I make your days and nights better?”

Her eyes widened slightly at his question, and he finally realized what just came out of his mouth. ‘Great job, Couffaine. You just made it weird!’Luka shook his head and moved the camera slightly away from his face, moving his gaze from the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up again-”

“I mean it.”

His eyes shot back to her and saw how she snuggled back into her bed again. Her eyes were looking away, but the redness in her face showed him exactly where her mind was. “I meant what I said… Did- Well, did you mean it too? When you said I made your nights better?”

There it was again. The shaky breath, the longing look in his eyes, the fuzziness in his chest. With a simple answer, she turned him into putty and without even realizing it.

Luka moved his arm to rest on his eyes, attempting to hide any sign that would show how he felt, just in case she didn’t mean her words the way he wanted her to mean them. He’d never blame her for not being too clear, even if it hurt him. Any affection, whether friendly or romantic, should’ve been fine with him.

“This is gonna sound bad, but my phone is full of screenshots from our FaceTime calls.” Luka lifted his arm up slightly to gauge a reaction from her. But her eyes were glued on him, he couldn’t pick up on a clear response, so he covered his eyes again and continued.

“I… this is so creepy- sometimes I look at pictures of you and… it makes my day better too? That sounds so weird. It sounded a lot cuter in my head-” A loud cackle interrupted him and his arm shot away from his eyes. He saw Marinette digging herself even deeper into her massive blanket (and creepy cat pillow), trying to hide her laughter.

She must’ve noticed his silence because her eyes popped out of the blanket to look back at her screen. “Sorry, that’s just… that’s so cute! You take screenshots from our facetime calls?”

Her lopsided smile made his cheeks burn. He tried to gain back his level-headedness by rolling his eyes at her. He brought the phone closer to stick his tongue out at her. “I wouldn’t call me ‘cute’ if you don’t want me to call you ‘adorable’ for listening to those covers.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation and hid her face back into the blanket. He took a quick, deep breath, silently thanking himself for being able to play his awkwardness off.

“I can’t believe I actually admitted that to you- That’s cold-blooded, Luka! Teasing a girl’s love is mean!”

They both paused for a second, taking in her words. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller than it was. His blood felt boiling hot yet icy cold all at once. His face slacked and yet tensed in different places. Looking at her and seeing her eyes expand let him know she was probably feeling the same way.

“Love?”

It sounded so easy. When she said it, it felt right. Full of affection without being overbearing. But then Marinette’s gaze moved off screen. She sunk into herself, yet not playfully like before. The energy of the call changed into something else, something new. “I… shouldn’t say anymore. I’m… sorry, Luka. I’m so sorry; I feel so selfish. I call you so late just to ruin your night by making things weird, and I’m so sorry.”

He watched as she shifted in her bed; he saw the edge of her thumb on the screen, hovering over it, as if she was about to end the call. “That’s not-! Marinette, that’s not true. If you’re selfish… If you’re selfish, then I must be the most greedy guy in the world.”

Marinette swiftly stared at the screen, her mouth opened as if she was going to rebuttal his statement. Before she could, he spoke first.

“I’ve been staying up every night, hoping and begging that you’d text me, or call me, or give me any attention at all. And I do it, knowing that you message me when you’re tired and need to rest. I know that spending time with me only takes away time you need to sleep. So yes, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy,”

Luka slowly sat up as he stared into the screen, clutching it as if it was the most important thing in the world, and at this moment, it was. Marinette moved the blanket off her face slightly and he saw her face flush with color. His voice felt raw as his throat tightened and his face burned. He couldn’t even register the tear that raced down his cheek. When did he get so emotional?

“But Melody, Mari, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want your attention so bad. I want your affection and anything else you give me. I’ve been trying so hard to bite my tongue around you, to pretend like I think of you as my friend. But I love…”

He shut his mouth fast. What was he doing? He was destroying everything for these feelings. Why would she like him? She gives everyone affection. Marinette loved everyone, it was just who she was. What was he doing? He looked around his room and realized the situation he put himself in. He quickly put his phone on the bed next to him and pulled his knees to his chest.

Did he ruin their relationship? Would she stop having these late night talks with him? Would she still hold his hands when hers felt cold? Would she ever kiss his cheek to say goodbye again? What was he doing?

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It all happened so fast. He reached for his phone to apologize and to hopefully scavenge whatever was left of their friendship.

“I love you too, Luka.”

His hand stopped just above his phone and he waited. He listened to the small buzzing sound from his phone, the waves moving against the boat, gentle breathing coming from Marinette.

“I love you… and I wanna be selfish. I wanna be greedy and I wanna be with you.”

Luka found the courage to lift the phone to his face and stare back at her. Marinette now sat up, her face was bright red with tear stains down her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly puffy and he was sure his were too. The only light on her face was her phone and even with everything, she looked beautiful.

“I wanna be with you too, Marinette. Always, for as long as you’ll have me. Wake me up at three A.M. everynight for the rest of my life, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you too. I love you.”

It felt so right. It wasn’t too much when he said it. He meant it to be heavy and weighted. But it didn’t feel forced or extreme. It was just right. They stared at each other for a moment more. His eyes raced across every centimeter of the screen, taking in every aspect of her, her eyes doing the same. Smiles spread across her face as they both chuckled, their laughter laced with happy tears.

Luka wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself down (despite his teenage hormones telling him that he should continue to cry and sob from the utter euphoria he was feeling). Marinette tugged at her pigtails with one hand, seeking to find comfort.

“This wasn’t the way I thought we’d confess, y’know. I always thought you’d write me a song, or I’d make you a new jacket. Some big gesture instead of us sobbing,” she chuckled.

He stopped wiping his eyes to laugh again. His smile grew, even as he tasted his tears. “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise I have plenty of songs for you, and about you and everything. I can grab my guitar if you want, but you might hear Juleka complaining in the background.”

They shared one final laugh before the exhaustion of crying kicked in and they both laid back down. Marinette wrapped herself in blankets one final time, holding the dubious cat pillow tight against her. Luka found himself in a similar position, he laid on his side, his face squished against his pillow and the blanket pulled under his chin.

They stared at each other, making small conversation about their feelings. Luka could hardly remember all that happened after that, he felt such relief and happiness from everything that the rest of the night felt fuzzy.

He glanced at the time at the top of his screen and noticed it was now closer to three-thirty. Luka took a deep breath before sighing. He saw Marinette’s eyes getting smaller and smaller with each second.

He knew that they should hang up soon, but he really wanted to be selfish and keep her on the phone. “Luka…”

Marinette slowly opened an eye to look back at him. Their smiles grew once again. “Are you gonna take another screenshot of me?” Her smile turned sly and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s cold-blooded, Mel’. Teasing a guy’s love is mean,” he stuck out his tongue, just for good measure. But then he sneakily took one screenshot, to remind himself that tonight was real and not just a dream. Tonight, Marinette was his and he was hers, and hopefully it’ll stay like that for a long time.

Her eyes drifted back closed, but her smile never left. “...Love you… Luka….”

Warmth engulfed his chest, leaving him feeling light and airy. The mattress underneath him felt soft and perfect. The dryness on his cheeks from earlier tears didn’t bother him at all. He was content and full of love.

While the confession was unexpected, he wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he loved her clothing and as many songs as he had for her, he knew nothing would’ve compared to tonight. As he looked back at her sleeping face, he had a feeling she felt the same.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .5.

wednesday

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Warnings: non/dub con sex (more oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The girls go to the beach but our reader cannot escape Steve for long.

Note: Second last part y’all. Steve gets a bit darker in this as both he and the reader grow more desperate. I hope you all enjoy this and I know you can’t wait for quote-on-quote grande finale. ;)

That being said, I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

You awoke in as much confusion as you'd drifted off in. Images of Steve floated in your dreams and the same tingle burned at your core. You tossed and turned until the sun forced you up. You heard the sound of a car engine and rubbed your eyes as you sat up. You stood and peered through the window. 

Kylie's Mercedes rolled to the end of the drive and you frowned. Where was she off too? Or maybe, hopefully, Steve had borrowed her car. You shrugged and shook the sleep from your head. You needed to shower. You should have the night before but you were overcome in your bliss. You felt dirty now. The sweat and cum stiff along the edges of your panties.

You dragged your feet into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. You undressed with a series of groans and stepped under the stream. The steam rose around you and eased your muscles, stiff from a night of overthinking and all-too-vivid dreams. You closed your eyes and let the water wash over you. It was almost cleansing.

You jumped when the shower door slid open and you pushed yourself against the tile with a yelp. You tried to shield yourself with your hands but it did little to hide your figure. Steve's eyes roved every inch and he smirked. 

"I was knocking," He said. He didn't look at your face. "Kylie just went to grab some milk."

"What are…" Your voice died as he licked his lips. "Get out!"

"I won't touch," His voice was dusky, "Can I...watch?"

Your lips trembled and you gave a long exhale. "You should go. She'll come back."

"We have twenty minutes, at least," He raised a brow and backed up. He sat on the toilet and his eyes clung to your figure. "Better get cleaned up fast."

"Steve," You hissed and reached for the faucet. 

He tilted his head tutted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Wait, I have something for you to watch first." He unlocked his phone and scrolled. "Can't have a house this big without security." 

He held up his screen and you squinted. It was you, stripping down to get in the hot tub. The footage played through and soon his lips were on yours. Without dialogue, it looked different. Almost as if you had tempted him.

"It would be a shame for Kylie to cut your visit short but she can be rather melodramatic," He lowered his phone away and shrugged. "Now, go on."

You shivered and turned back to the shower head. You tried to ignore his presence as you reached for your soap and loufa. He wasn't there. Just hurry up and wash. But you could feel his stare. Hear his subtle breaths. 

You scrubbed your hairand peeked over at him as you turned to rinse the soap. He held up his phone and you covered yourself once more. "What the fuck?"

"Ah come on, just a little something to remember you by," He smirked. "I'll miss you when you go. What is it, two days left?"

You shook your head in disgust and turned to quickly rid your hair of the lather. You grabbed the towel and wrapped it around your body. You stepped out and pushed aside his phone. "There. Now get out."

He stood and made sure to brush his front against you. Again his arousal was obvious. "Kylie should be back with that milk soon," He said, "Should I make some coffee?" 

You didn’t answer. You just watched him leave, sure you were still dreaming. You looked around as if the world would dissolve around you but it was all too real.

-

You dressed carefully. You took your time. You dreaded another run in with Steve. It had already gone way too far. That night in the gym...you should’ve never followed him to the hot tub. That had been your first mistake. That had been his invitation and now there was no rescinding it. Yet, you were a guest in his home but he was the one intruding on you.

You listened closely as you descended the stairs. You didn’t hear anything, not until you were halfway to the kitchen door. You paused and thought of running up the stairs. You could hide until Kylie returned. She was your only shield from him.

Yet you couldn’t be sure that your avoidance would not instigate him. One wrong move and he would bring up the video on his phone. Or, one of them. You cringed as you recalled his cell phone held up, its lens recording your every move.

I'll show you even more. His promise bounced around your head. Maybe it was best to leave early, but what would you tell Kylie? Maybe she wouldn’t care so much...but he would. And he’d still have those videos. You couldn’t face your sophomore year without your bestie.

Two more days. That was all. Bide your time and you'd be on your way home. 

You jumped as Steve appeared in the kitchen door. It was too late to turn back now. He smiled and tucked his phone away. You couldn't help but stare at the red case as it disappeared in his pocket. What had he been doing? Or rather, looking at?

"You take cream in your coffee?" He turned his body as he leaned against the door frame and waved you inside. "Unless you wanna wait til Kylie returns."

"I'll just take it black," You said and hesitantly stepped into the kitchen. 

He followed closely and you could feel his gaze on your ass. His fingers confirmed it as they squeezed. A gentle pinch as your paths diverged around the island. You flinched and retreated.

"Do you really think Kylie would believe you?" You asked as you watched him pull out a dainty pink mug. 

"Do you think she'd believe you?" He returned as he poured the coffee. He turned and neared the other side of the counter. "I mean...you're not that innocent."

You stared at him as he slid the mug across to you. You took it and frowned. "Why--"

"Because I want you," He didn't wait for the questions. He gripped the edge of the island and wiggled his hips. You could imagine his erection hidden by the marble top. "I've never had a virgin. As old as I am."

"So it's all just a middle-aged crisis? A check off your bucket list?" You asked.

"More than that," He smirked. "It's that little flowered swimsuit. The bikini was cute but…" He inhaled. "How another man hasn't already had a go is beyond me."

You sipped your coffee. You didn't know what to say. You were embarrassed. Nervous. Afraid.

"You didn't act like you hated," He slowly rounded the island. "In fact, I'd say you needed it. You need me." You set down the cup and took a step back for each of his. "You need someone to teach you. To show you how fucking sexy you are."

You gulped and nearly tripped over your own feet. He lunged forward and kept you from falling. He pulled you close and pressed himself to you. He rocked his hips so you felt his desire.

"I want to fuck you on this counter," He ran his hand over the island as his other gripped your arm. "But...there's still a few things I need to teach you first."

"Steve, I--" The front door opened and suddenly you were free. Steve was quick to move away. You held onto the counter as you tried to clear your head.

The door closed and Kylie's footsteps preceded her. Steve opened the fridge and searched inside. "Finally," He said coolly, "Was starting to think you got lost."

"They were out of soy milk," She replied and she planted the carton on the counter, "Had to go to the other store."

"Well, thank you," He turned to set a handful of fruit on the counter. "Coffee's ready."

"Awesome," She skirted around you and opened the cupboard. "All the better because we've got a lot to do." 

You turned to her with a curious hmm.

"We're going to the beach!" She sang as she poured her coffee. "Jenny and Dani will be here soon." She paused and turned to Steve as he loaded the blender, "Daddy…"

He sighed. He looked at her knowingly. "What do you want?"

"Can we borrow the rover?" She folded her hands together in a plea. 

"Well…" He looked over her shoulder at you, "It might be worth it for a day to myself." He placed the lid on the blender. "Fine. But leave the Mercedes keys...just in case."

"Thank you!" She grabbed her coffee and added a drop of milk. 

"Any scratches and your paying for the buff," He warned and hit the button. The kitchen filled with the same violent buzz that had taken over your mind.

-

It was a relief to be out of the house but the inevitability of your return loomed in the back of your mind. The sun was dulled by the shadow of dread across your vision. The sand was hot beneath your beach towel and the sound of waves lulled your mind. Even so, you couldn't help but think of Steve. The look in his eyes when he had said ‘I want you.’

It wasn't a general statement. He wanted you. Not just a virgin, the innocent friend of his daughter. The trope found in the pages of your sister's favourite novellas. He was set on you and he would find a way to have you.

"...right?" Kylie elbowed you and shook you from the trance beneath your round sunglasses. You looked to her and set down the book you weren't really reading. "Hey, I was talking to you."

"Sorry, I was...reading," You lied and sat up. "What's up?"

"I was just saying that next year I gotta get you laid," She trilled, "Loosen you up a bit."

You swallowed and crossed your arms over your knees. "I can handle myself." You assured her.

"Oh yeah? What's it gonna be? Another twenty years?"

"Shut up," Jenny tossed sand at Kylie, "Give her a break. We didn't all pop our cherries at fourteen just to spite our dads."

"You would if you had my dad," Kylie scowled, "It wasn't just him. It was...everything."

"Like mother, like daughter," Danielle muttered.

"Shut the fuck up, Dani," She grabbed her own handful of sand and threw it at her mouthy friend.

"Hey, hey," You touched Kylie's arm. You rarely saw her so angry. It had happened so fast you were almost frightened. "I'll give you one night, okay? I'll go to one of your parties. That's all."

"Face it," She fell back on her towel, "You wanna get some. That little nun act must get real boring."

"You know what, I kinda like the convent lifestyle," You kidded and reclined. You rolled onto your stomach and stretched. "It's quiet."

You hid your face as you leaned your forehead on your bent arms. Her laughter filled your ears and you tried not to think of Steve. Of what he wanted. Of what he would do. You had heard that it hurt, but you weren't so worried about the pain.

-

Kylie had a burn along her nose and cheeks and Dani had drained her secret flask of vodka. Her and Jenny argued for fifteen minutes about the lack of sharing. They finally quit as you piled into the car. You drove on the way back. The other three girls were sleepy from the day in the sun. You were too but sleep wasn't high on your list of priorities.

Once you reached the main strip, Kylie roused herself enough to give you directions. Jenny's house was the first stop, Danielle’s the second. The same suburban castles as their friend. The whole town was the pillar of white collar America.

You idled at the corner just before Kylie's house. She didn't notice as your fingers tapped the steering wheel and you stared at the familiar gate just down the lane. You hit the gas and pulled onto the long drive. Kylie yawned and opened her eyes as she sat up.

"Jeez, I'm exhausted," She said as you killed the engine. "Would you be mad if I zonked out now?"

"It's barely nine," You chided. You tried to sound like you were kidding but you really didn't want to be left alone. Not here.

"I'm sorry. I--" She yawned again. "I should have put my umbrella up sooner."

"And I'm the square," You joked as you followed her to the trunk and helped unload the cooler. You hooked your bag over your shoulder and lifted it between you.

"Now you know how it feels," She chuckled. "I'll get up early tomorrow, okay?"

"Fine," You grumbled as you followed her to the kitchen. You set the cooler down by the counter.

"I'll take care of that in the morning," She shrugged and dragged her feet back out the door. 

You were a step behind her as she climbed the stairs. Your skin was on fire as you listened for any sign of life. Flinched at every shadow. Steve was here somewhere. She patted your shoulder as she grumbled a good night and you parted to your respective rooms; impossibly far from one another.

You looked back as the door closed behind her and you sighed. You grabbed your handle and turned. It didn't budge. You jiggled it and tried again. You shook the door and cursed under your breath. Another trap.

The realization wasn't soon enough. You hadn't heard his door, you only felt the weight of his gaze. You turned to Steve as he leaned on his elbow against the doorframe and smirked.

"Need help?"

"No," You grabbed the door handle and pushed down with all your force. It didn't move. "I can…"

"It does that," He pushed himself from the wooden frame and neared. "You just need to know the trick." His hand closed over yours before you let go of the handle. He wiggled it and suddenly it released. "It jams every now and then."

He didn't release you. His breath washed over your head and you looked up at him meekly. "Kylie--"

"Was barely awake when she stumbled through her door," He said, "And if she wakes, you think she's going to come knocking on your door...or mine."

"Please, just...haven't you done enough?" You asked.

"Have I?" His other hand grazed your thigh. "It's one thing to be touched by a man but another to touch a man…"

He drew your hand away from the handle. He walked backwards as he tugged you with him. You tried to yank your hand free but his grip was strong; his hand almost twice the size of yours. 

"With these," He took your other hand and rubbed the back with his thumb, "You can drive a man crazy."

"Steve…" You pulled and he did the same; so hard that you collided with him, your arms caught between your bodies.

"Shhh," He led you through his doorway, "I know you're a smart girl...such a quick learner."

"I…" Your voice quivered as he spun with you in his arms and released you. The door shut with a click as you kept yourself from tripping. You looked up as he turned the lock. He grabbed the bag from your shoulder and plopped it behind him.

"You don't have to be afraid," He cooed as he neared, "I want it to be special for you...but tonight isn't the night."

"What are you--" He turned you by your shoulders and you looked around the room. His large bed was awash in scarlet light, thin scarves slung over the lamps.

"Tell me, have you ever touched a man before?" He took your hand and urged you forward. "Have you even seen…"

"N-no," He jolted you forward as you tried to resist. "I...no, please."

"We can take it slow. We have taken it slow, haven't we?" He brought you to the end of the bed. Again he turned you and pushed on your shoulders until you sat. "I've been gentle, haven't I?"

You lowered your head. He had been. You couldn't deny that; couldn't deny the feelings he had inspired in you. You couldn’t ignore the heat that was once again licking at your flesh.

"Sweetie," He purred as he cupped your face in his hands, "It's okay to enjoy yourself. Sex is not a sin. The human body...is beautiful." He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, "Your body is beautiful."

You lowered your lashes shyly and he bent to kiss you. His lips met yours hungrily and his hands drifted down your neck and along your chest. He felt your tits through your tee and bathing suit beneath. Your nipples hard against his palms.

"Just relax," He whispered as he pulled away. He stood and ran a hand along the front of his jeans. "Take off your shirt, sweetie."

His eyes were intent on you. You pouted but your voice was but a wisp in your chest. You reached down and slowly pulled up the hem of your tee. His pupils grew as you stripped yourself of the pale yellow cotton to reveal the same floral bathing suit you'd worn on your first day there.

"Mmm, I like that one," You glanced down. You could see your nipples poking through the fabric. The pale pink patterns did nothing to hide your own arousal. "And your shorts."

"I…" You breathed and he pressed a single finger to your lips. He dropped his hand as you stood. You rolled your shorts down and he rubbed the crotch of his jeans. "Sit."

You obeyed a little too quick. You bounced from the force of your descent and he chuckled. He grabbed his belt buckle and swiftly undid it. You bit down as he unhooked the button of his fly and looked at you as he slid down the zipper.

He shoved his pants down just to his thighs. He tucked his fingers in the elastic of his brief. He pulled them down his pelvis and carefully past his erection. You gasped as he revealed his thick cock and your heart beat wildly. He rolled his briefs down to the top of his jeans.

He grabbed the base of his cock. "It's not so bad, is it?" He said, "You like it, don't you?" He stroked himself and shuddered. "Just like that."

He let go and inched forward. He reached down and took your hand from beside your leg. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and closed his hands over them. He led your grip up and down his length. The skin was smooth and the veins pulsed against your palm.

"Mmmm," He repeated the motion, "Yeah." You bit your lip and he released you after the third stroke. "Keep going, sweetie." You did it again and again and he leaned into your touch, his hands on his hips. "Ah, baby, you're a natural." He let his head fall back and ran his fingers through his golden hair. 

"Firmer," You tightened your grip, your eyes on your hand. "Faster. Yeah...oh god." His breath picked up as you continued. You could feel the wetness along your bathing suit. "Okay."

He stopped your hand with his and gently pulled it away. He stepped even closer. "Now," He took his cock in his other hand. "Try it with your mouth."

"What?" You blinked at him. "I…"

"Take it slow, use your tongue first," He coaxed as he spread his hand over the side of your head. "It's a lot, don't take it all at once."

You gaped at him and he urged you to the edge of the bed. He came closer still and pressed the head of his cock to your lips. You flicked your tongue out across his tip and he sighed. 

"More," He rasped. 

You licked him shyly, a swirl around the head of his cock. He exhaled sharply and you dragged your tongue down his length as you leaned forward. You went back to his tip and repeated the motion. He tasted salty.

"Just like that, baby. Make sure your ready for it," He cradled your head as you licked him up and down once more. "Use your hand."

You gripped him and started to stroke him as you used your tongue. His hand slid around the back of your head and he pushed himself to your lips. "A little at a time, sweetie."

You gulped and clamped your lips shut. You looked up at him as he pushed harder. 

"Open up that pretty little mouth," His voice was stern. "You can do it, sweetie."

You parted your lips and closed your eyes. He pushed his head inside and you stretched your mouth around him. You kept your hand on him and stopped as he prodded at your throat. He guided you back with his grasp on your head and shoved himself back in. You couldn't take all of him.

"Use your tongue," He directed, "Mmm, yeah, keep those lips tight. Yeah, like that." He hummed as he hit the back of your throat again. "Don't be afraid to get messy." 

You felt the spit spreading along his shaft and against your hand as you moved it in time with his mouth. You did you best to breathe past his girth.

"You're doing good, sweetie," He pet your head as he cooed, "Oh, yeah, so good."

He groaned and gripped the sides of your head as he moved you faster and faster. Your eyes rolled back as tears pricked and you gulped back the saliva pooling in your mouth.

"Can I cum on your tits, baby?" He grunted.

He pulled out suddenly. You could barely react as he grabbed the front of your bath suit and ripped it down. He stroked his cock as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and forced you close. He hissed as a warmth spurted onto your chest and between your tits. 

"Fuckkkk," The drawn out moan surrounded you and he slowed his hand as he let go of you. He leaned back on his heels and sighed. "Ah, that was so good, sweetie."

He flinched as he released his cock. He eased himself back into his briefs and carefully pulled up his jeans. He smirked down at you and you looked at the cum dripping down your tits.

"Even more beautiful than before, sweetie," He pulled the straps of your bathing suit up your arms and covered his cum. "Tomorrow," He bent and kissed your forehead, "We'll finish our little lessons."

-

tags to be added in reblog

[argentdandelion]

That One Sad Fic Where Noelle’s Dad Dies

“Noelle.” “Wha—? Kris, it’s 3:00 AM….” Noelle said, squinting at her bedazzled cell phone in the darkness. (Ever since it assassinated her actual clock, she had to adapt.) “Skip school today. Go to your dad.” “…what? Why?” “Choose a game,” Kris said, with all the concision and emotion of a very ticked-off grandma.

“Alright, Kris! I got it!” Noelle turned on a lamp and hurriedly scanned through the video game titles.

Mario Kart, Professor Layton, Grand Theft Auto…

Noelle smiled and pulled out a title. “Ah, the perfect one! Silent Hill!”

“And for the love of Dog, do not bring Cooking Mama. Sweet Angel, that will only make him die faster!”

“Oh. Right. Shouldn’t bring anything too relaxing.” Noelle put down Silent Hill and chose Dragon Blazers III.

Noelle’s ears perked up. “Did…you just say ‘die faster’?”

But Kris had abruptly hung up, like clothes in a closet.

—–

“Dad? Dad?” Noelle gently shook her father from his sleep. The lamp was on, beaming light onto his face.

Rudy blinked blearily into the intense light. “Oh dear…now I’m getting medical care from aliens.”

Noelle frowned. “Come on, Dad! You said it yourself, we’re deer monsters.”

Dimly, Rudy noticed the furniture setup was different from what he remembered. He glanced across the room: the flowers in the glass cover had been put on the small counter by the sink, leaving the angel doll dethroned and emanating an aura of rage. The Nontondo console, sitting on a bedside table, was hooked up to the hospital TV and trying to keep its relationship discreet.

Emblazoned on the TV screen were the words “Dragon Blazers III”. It was drawn in fire-coated letters, as if overcompensating for a lack of innate coolness.

Rudy yawned and looked outside. The sky was still dark. “Noelle, why are you waking me up in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not the middle of the night, Dad.” Noelle said sheepishly.

“Oh, good.”

“It’s 3:20 AM.”

Just then Rudy noticed the bags under his daughter’s eyes, her messy hair, and the few crumbs stuck to the fuzz of her lips.

“Noelle.”

“Yes, Dad?”

“Lick those lips of yours.”

Noelle stared at him awkwardly.

“You got crumbs stuck to your fuzzy lips, and I don’t think you’re going for a flavor saver.”

“Dad, a flavor savor is a soul patch, not a mustache!”

“We’re covered in fur. It’s kind of hard to tell the difference!”

Rudy laughed, before pausing thoughtfully. “Eh, it doesn’t matter much. It’s not realistic for society to expect women to constantly shave.”

“I mean, of course,” Noelle wrinkled her brow. “There’s no way anyone has the time for full body shampooing and hair removal.”

Noelle moved a tacky little chair closer to the bed (clearly intended for smaller visitors), and cringed at the squeak. Noelle smiled, and handed her father the other controller.

She yelped.“Oh! Darn! It’s a single-player game!”

“Ah, good. It’d be messy to be a player and also married.” Rudy winked.

“How’d you know it has a marriage option?” Noelle asked, befuddled. “….Never mind.”

Rudy slowly leaned over, looking at the item Noelle held. “You only got one controller? Oh, it’s fine. I can always watch. You’re much better than me at these games anyway.”

—-

“Gosh darn it, Shella.”

“Come on, Noelle! You can swear harder than that.”

Noelle blushed.

“This is the last time I’ll ever be able to see my little girl swear a blue streak.” Rudy said solemnly.

“It’s the wish of a dying man, Noelle. Now let it rip!”

“Fu–”

—-

Noelle painted the room blue as the ocean with the intensity and number of her swears…including two Rudy had never even heard before.

Noelle hunched over with an exhausted look, panting. Suddenly her cheeks bulged, and she spat out one little swear lingering in her throat.

Rudy sat in his bed, stunned at the depths of foulness to tumble out of the mouth of a sweet-natured teenage girl. “Wow, Nolle…

I am so proud of you.”

Noelle beamed, still flushed with the exhaustion of releasing sixteen years’ worth of repressed cussing. Noelle’s cheeks bulged again….only to erupt into laughter. Soon, Rudy, too, was laughing, and the room itself was filled with laughter (and swear residue).

Rudy’s ears flailed out, and with a bug-eyed look Rudy coughed out some dust.

Noelle stared at the dust smeared on her father’s hand. Rudy looked solemn. “Noelle, I think it’s time I told you the truth…”

“I’m part vacuum cleaner.”

—-

They had traveled deep into the dungeon in the bowels of the earth. Suddenly, the claustrophobic halls expanded into a greater room….

“A cutscene!”

Noelle perked her ears up and forward, leaning closer to the TV with a gamer’s hunch. She sat there for a few seconds, straining her ears, but the sound had been turned too low for that sweet, sweet cutscene music.

“Oh, darn. Wish I could hear the music.”

“Oh, Noelle, you can turn it up. The only other guy is the Warrior, and he’s delusional. Guy thinks he’s a NPC spouting foreshadowing for an incomplete game.”

Noelle adjusted the hospital TV’s buttons the old-fashioned way, as the remote was on paternity leave after irresponsibly siring tiny music players.

Atmospheric music ran through that quiet hospital room.

“You dense son of a submariner! Wither away!”

Smiles filled their vision as they enjoyed the scene together, as they witnessed the bizarre scene of characters innocently smiling while delivering scathing dialogue. Ill-advised ‘cultural translations’ for a tougher audience, Noelle thought. But I love it.

A room away, a patient quietly fumed and flailed his limbs, ranting again. Muffled as it was through the sounds of battle, and laughter, and conversation, none heard him. He shed a single manly tear through his costume.

—-

Swarms of Modiglettes tread towards them in the darkness.

Noelle tensed up with a little “eep”, and Rudy turned to his daughter’s terrified face. “What are you waitin’ for? Flare ‘em!”

Noelle shook off her fear…and decided to upgrade the spell to ZettaFlare, for good measure. The vastly over-levelled scale of the spell wrecked the swarm of Modiglettes…and the entire dungeon. The enemies soundly defeated (as well as most of the party), the scorched, half-dead remainder of the party weakly cheered.

"Creepy! Just like that angel doll!”

“Heh, you think so?” Rudy said with relief. “That thing’s a nightmarish abomination!” Rudy glanced toward that faceless angel doll on the counter top, still a little askew after all those hours beside the flowers. He felt it glaring at him judgmentally…as if wishing for his death.

Rudy noticed, just then, the petals falling from the wilting bouquet…onto that letter enclosed within.

"Kris…they’re a good kid.”

“Earlier, they told me to come visit you.” Noelle replied offhand.

Noelle had never seen her father’s brows rise higher. “Huh. That’s awfully out-of-character for them. I sure hope that isn’t a clue they know something we don’t.”

Noelle laughed nervously. “Yeah, I sure hope so! It’s….probably a sign of some turmoil or trauma that occurred off-screen. That totally happens in RPGs, so it’s not that weird.”

—-

As Noelle defeated foe after foe, progressing on her journey, she spoke less and less. The same went for her father. He reclined in his bed, his head heavy.

Noelle said nothing: not of her anxiety, not of her sadness, not of her ever-growing desire for soda and cheese chips.

“Dad? You haven’t said anything in a while. It’s getting kind of awkward. ‘Companionable silence’ is, uh…not something I’m very good at.”

“Oh, you don’t have to narrate everything,” her father said. “It’s not like you’re playing it for an Internet audience.”

“After all, video games can be…” Her father looked down before looking back at her. “an activity well-suited for urban hermits.”

—-

“THE END”, it said.

Noelle stared at the screen. “What happens next?” Noelle asked, her voice laden with tension.

“The credits screen, of course!” Rudy replied.

“No, no…I mean…what happens to the characters?” Noelle said, glancing towards the window. Her hands still clenched the controller.

“…Y’know…I like to think they all went home after beating the final boss, and had that long-awaited cake.”

“I don’t think they’ll ever get the cake,” Noelle said quietly, looking down. “They always thought they could, but then things happened no one could predict, and now they have to live a cake-free life.”

“You’re right. Come to think of it…a lot of games have cake you can’t get…” Rudy looked out into the distance, up towards the ceiling. “I suppose all they can hope for is finding joy in cupcakes, muffins and brownies. After all, it’s not like having a cake-free life stops them from finding happiness. There are a lot of caloric baked goods in the world.”

Noelle stared at her father, her eyes wet. “Are we…are we even talking about cake anymore?”

Rudy lifted an eyebrow. “It’s good advice, literal or not, and it’s straight from my supply of fatherly wisdom.”

Then, suddenly, there was a weight on Noelle’s hands, and Noelle’s eyes went wide open. Her father weakly squeezed Noelle’s hand, looking straight at her with a wan smile.

“Noelle, dear. Life stinks. But video games make life stink less. When I’m gone, game so much the WHO gives you a disorder.”

“I promise, Dad.”

Her father laid back on the bed, staring up towards the ceiling again.

“DAD OUT!” He shouted. His tongue stuck out and his eyes turned to X’s.

Tears bubbled in Noelle’s eyes. “His eyes turned to X’s…just like the video games…”

—-

It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming. On days like these, kids like Kris should be inside playing Nontondo games, but no, Kris had to go be all nice-like and visit someone whose dad had died.

Kris found Noelle standing by the window, light streaming past her silhouette in the early morning light. Kris stared at Noelle’s back in a way that definitely wasn’t creepy.

The two of them stood like two islands in a quiet ocean…but for the malfunctioning air conditioning system, which was quite terrible at imitating calming ocean waves.

Kris observed a massive snarl in Noelle’s hair. It was so big it looked like her hair had gotten pregnant. Dear sweet angel mother of Dog could she not have combed her hair a little before visiting her dying father at 3:30 AM?! Kris thought. But Kris kept quiet.

“Yo, Noelle, your hair is awful,” Kris said. Kris cringed, hurriedly adding: “Also, sorry ‘bout your dad. Obvious foreshadowed deaths are still super sad.”

Noelle spoke in a voice drained of tears, due to a quick surgery she had to improve tear evacuation in her face. Thankfully, Kris wasn’t looking at Noelle’s face.

“I suppose so,” Noelle said quietly. “But if it means I got to spend time with my dad, one last time…then it was worth it for my hair to look like it got goshdarn pregnant.”

Oh thank Dog we agree, Kris thought. Would have been awkward if I brought it up.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do next,” Noelle said, almost to herself. “Life’s…never going to go back to normal, with my dad being all corpsey.”

Kris looked at the bed. It felt empty. “It’s kind of ambiguous whether he’s a corpse or dust.”

“You don’t know…maybe we scheduled a cremation service ahead of time, ‘cause he was on his way out anyway.”

The room was quiet again, but for the annoying creak of the malfunctioning air conditioning. It sounded like a wooden ship breaking apart in a storm-tossed…No, no. Make for a more subtle metaphor, Kris told their own brain.

The moment carried on, stretching out like a lazy morning. In that unhurried moment, where a person could simply be alive, Kris lost track of time. It didn’t matter: it was either 9:27 AM or croissant o’clock.

What did Noelle see, in one of the best views in all of Hometown? The houses below? The woods beyond? Undyne arresting Snowdrake for streaking?

“Thank you, Kris,” Noelle said quietly. “Thank you for somehow knowing roughly when my dad was going to die, despite having zero medical knowledge.”

Noelle’s ears floated up. A few seconds passed. Noelle turned around, exposing her hideously enlarged tear ducts.

“OH MY DOG KRIS DO YOU HAVE TIME TRAVEL POWERS?!”

But Kris had long since bounced the joint.

—-

Everyone knew it was coming. The foreshadowing was very obvious.

Kris stood stiffly in the doorway, a sense of unease building in their various body parts.

At first, the room seemed unoccupied. Then, Kris caught a soft, high-pitched noise. Kris caught Noelle sobbing, her face concealed under a waterfall of hair. (Much like a waterfall was wet, it was also wet. But with tears.) A thought occurred to Kris, unbidden, that her hair was beautiful: long, and blond, and finely combed, and increasingly stained with tears and snot. Her arms wrapped her arms around her body.

Kris did a double-take.

“Noelle…why are you brandishing a disembodied pair of your own arms?”

Noelle coughed out her sobs and swallowed.

“These are my sorrow arms, Kris….I grow them whenever I am enduring the crushing pain of existence.”

Kris’s blank face somehow looked hesitant.

“I doubt that. I’ve never grown any sorrow arms.”

“…oh. I’m sorry, Kris,” Noelle said, a little subdued. “Growing a second pair of arms under overwhelming sorrow must be a monster-only thing.”

“I only wish…I could have played Dragon Blazers III with him.”

Kris paused, tilting their head just a fraction of an inch. “How long would it take to finish Dragon Blazers III?” It was a mundane inquiry, very similar to “Do you have croissants?” in how mundane it was.

Noelle sniffed. In a brittle voice, like a piece of plastic (the brittle kind), she said: “It’s pretty big. About eight hours, I-I think.”

“If you could finish the game with your father, would you?”

“I’d do anything for it.”

“Would you give me hair-care tips?”

“…what?”

“’Cause I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful your hair was, despite the fact it’s increasingly stained with tears and snot.”

“Kris, I am mourning my dead dad. Please read the room before asking for hair care tips.” Noelle’s arms tightened around herself. “But, yes…theoretically, I would provide hair care tips.”

“Despite that unwanted tone of voice, I’m gonna be the better person and rewind time so you can play a video game with your dad, all good Samaritan-like.” Kris said.

“…what? Rewind time?”

—-

“Yo. Red SOUL.” Kris said blankly, sashaying towards a SOUL in a birdcage.

“I need you all up inside me.” Kris said, as seductively as a teenager of unclear age could while still being legal. Kris opened up the cage and their SOUL eagerly jumped into their chest cavity.

“PSYCHE!” Kris exclaimed. “I knew you’d automatically rewind time, sucka! And I’m gonna make Noelle slightly less sad!”

[itsadrizzit]

2, 5 and 8, please!

THANKS! Answers are under the cut because, as usual, I get LONG WINDED! I just love talking about my work, okay?

Fanfic Day Meme

2. What is your favourite snippet of dialogue?

Can I be EXTRA and give you some from all my fics (the recent ones anyway?) I feel like they all have this one moment that’s like…ah ha that dialogue bit was PERFECTION

Maybe It Will All Come Back to Me

‘You’re not half as charming as you think you are. Now stop arsing about, I want coffee.’

‘Fine,’ Vincent said, turning back to the stove. ‘I know how dangerous it is to get between you and your coffee. I’d hate to put my life at risk.’

‘Smart. I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

‘Not my devastating good looks and captivating personality?’

‘Just make coffee.’

‘Hmm okay. But only because I fear for my safety if I don’t.’

Merry Christmas, Here’s to Many More

“What are you watching?”

“Great British Bake Off.” Vincent said, nonchalant, as though this were a thing he did every day at eight thirty in the morning.

“Great…what? Have you been watching a baking show for three hours?”

“There’s nothing else on. I’ve seen all these already, but when I tuned in they were making stroopwafels and it made me think of home so I left it.”

“Hmm.” Chris could understand that. Honestly, he could go for a stroopwafel and coffee himself right now, but he had a match tomorrow and needed to be careful what he ate—even on Christmas.

Then his brain caught up with Vincent’s words and he lifted his head from Vincent’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, did you say you’ve seen all these already? Since when do you watch Great British Bake Off?”

Vincent shrugged and pursed his lips, eyes turned to the floor, his cheeks tinged with the barest hint of pink. “I…well I started watching it when I moved here, honestly, but I’ve been watching back seasons while I’ve been away and I watched the latest season online. I confess I’m a bit hooked.”

“But…” Chris started and then stopped because Vincent could watch whatever he wanted but why hadn’t he heard about this baking show obsession before now? “You don’t bake, do you? Unless you were holding out on me for all those months.”

“No. I just…It all looks so good and I can’t actually eat cake because of training, which I know is sort of like torturing yourself, but the whole idea of it is just…” a pause and then he set himself, jaw strong and his voice firm as he lifted his eyes from their fixed stare at the floor. “I really like cake, Christian, leave me alone.”

We’re Less Than Half As Close As I Want to Be

Vincent looked down at the bag in his hands, then squinted at the screen, “You got me a Denmark shirt?”

“Open it all the way up,” Christian said. “I promise it will make sense eventually.”

Vincent lifted the adhesive flap and slipped the shirt out onto his lap. Fabric cool and smooth against his hands, although the underside had ridges in it  where the designers had ruined an otherwise sharp and sleek kit by carving an outline of a viking into it.

He hoped his uncontrolled eye roll had been obscured from Christian’s view when he held up the shirt to examine it.

“This shirt is terrible,” Vincent said.

Christian let out a snort of protest, which Vincent ignored, then said, “Turn it around. The front is just regular.”

Vincent did as he’d been instructed, flipping the shirt over at his hands and staring at the back. It wasn’t much better than the front, really—bizarre font that made most of the players’ names nearly unreadable. This one no different. White lettering stark against the bright red background.

He blinked at the shirt for a few seconds. Staring. Processing. Taking it all in. Trying to understand what this was supposed to mean.

“Christian what the hell?”

“I got you a shirt.”

Vincent lowered the shirt to his lap so he could stare down at the screen. “I see that, but…I’m not Danish.”

“No. You’re not. But I am.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Vincent said. “None of this makes any sense. It’s a Denmark shirt, but it’s not your shirt. It’s…mine? Or, well, it has my name on it. But your number? Or mine? Although not your number, really, or my number but…”

Stay in My Eyeline

Hard to choose for this one because everything Daley says is great, but I love Chris and the Belgians, so…

“Why would any of us make it easier for you to continue making these abysmally bad life choices, Chris?” Toby asked.

“Please don’t make me call him.” Chris was ordinarily above begging, especially when he knew his friends would hold it over him for as long as they could, but these were extenuating circumstances.

“Christiaan ,” Toby said in the disapproving tone of a Dutch opa he reserved for whenever Chris was being particularly stupid about something involving Vincent. “If you want to do something this monumentally idiotic, then you’re going to have to work for it. I’m certainly not going to enable you.”

“Nor I,” Jan said.

“Well I’m not doing it,” Mousa said with a shrug. “But don’t think I don’t want to find out what happens when you do. I sort of wish we could watch it over a group chat.”

Chris threw a hand in the air. “I thought friends were supposed to help and support one another in their time of need.”

“How badly do you want to do this, Chris?” Jan asked. “Bad enough that you’re willing to go through all of this? Think on it.”

His friends were being insufferable, but Chris couldn’t blame them for it. The whole thing was probably hilarious, really, if you weren’t the one who had to call your ex and ask him to get you tickets to watch your current boyfriend, who was on the same team as your ex, play a match. With the added complication that as far as Chris was aware neither of them knew about his involvement with the other.

When had Chris’s life gotten this complicated? All he’d ever wanted to do was put his head down and play football, not end up in a string of problematic relationships with members of the Dutch National Team.

“And what am I supposed to say to him when I call? ‘Hi, sorry I’ve been going out of my way to ignore you for five years. Can you get me a ticket to your match today? Thanks, that’s so great of you. Just so you know, this doesn’t make us friends or anything, I just really need a ticket and you’re the only one I can call. Okay?”

“Overdramatic much?” Mousa asked, raising one eyebrow.

This May Be My Last Song

I cut this one for length because I needed to get the whole thing in but it was LONG, so I took out some of the narrative.

“We’re sort of a mess, aren’t we?”

“Hmmm,” Christian said. “A beautiful mess, yes. After all, here’s me all businesslike and telling you to leave me behind and go to Brighton and then the next second getting all sentimental because you’re laying in bed making that face.”

“What face?”

“Your ‘I really want to fuck you right now’ face.”

He scowled down at the phone where Christian’s face was quirked into a wide grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he laughed at Vincent.

“I don’t have a face for that.”

“Mmmm.” Christian’s voice shaking, with laughter this time, and none of this was funny thank you very much. “Not true. You have a face for everything. Lucky for you, that one is particularly hard to resist.”

“Stop laughing! I do not have an I want to fuck you face.” His voice a bit louder than he’d intended. Echoing off the walls and through the sparse, open space.

The click of a door handle a second later and Tonny’s voice around the corner. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s…uhhh…” Vincent said, flashing a warning look down at Christian as he scrambled for the button to mute the audio.

“None of my goddamn business,” Tonny said, lifting his headphones from the bedside table and sliding them around his neck. “I’ll just…be over here. You…keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing. Don’t worry about me.”

Heat rising in Vincent’s cheeks. “I…ummm.”

Tonny held up a hand and shoved his headphones over his ears. On screen, Vincent found himself staring at the ceiling of Christian’s hotel room, phone abandoned on the bed as Christian continued his fits of laughter.

Vincent had just straightened up, earphones in hand, when Tonny slipped his headphones off the ear closest to Vincent.

“To be fair to whoever that is, you do though,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

Vincent’s face burning hot now, and how did Tonny know anything about his sex face?

“I…oh my God, what?” Vincent’s head in his hands because this was not happening to him.

“You have a face. For everything. Definitely for that.” Tonny shoved his headphones back on his ears and flashed Vincent a thumbs up.

Vincent flopped onto the bed, shoved the headphones into their port, and tapped at his screen, still showing the dull white of the hotel ceiling tiles. “Are you done?”

Darkness as Christian’s hand closed around his phone, then a finger jabbed at the screen before Christian’s gasps of laughter burst into his ears.

“Oh. My. God.” Christian gasped out in English before switching back to breathless Dutch. “Your entire face right now. Who was that? He’s fantastic. We should be friends.”

Vincent glared down at Christian. “Tonny. Who apparently has seen my non-existent sex face. Godverdomme, Chris stop laughing.”

I refuse to select one from Five Times Christian Eriksen because there are MANY of them and my co-author wrote most of the funny bits anyway,

From the Loose Ends podfic, I will just go with a line that made me laugh out loud at the way I delivered it EVERY SINGLE TIME. It is in Chapter 9 when Eric and Dele are drunk and in Portugal and Eric misspeaks and then Dele makes fun of him for it and the way I read that line was honestly just MINT. You can listen to just that clip here (right click it to open in a new tab).

5. What’s your favorite headcanon you use in fics?

Ummm…I think my favourite is that Vincent used to watch Christian when he played at Ajax. Even though Vincent was at Feyenoord and he was supposed to blindly HATE all Ajax players he’d saw Christian playing in a match vs the Feyenoord first team when Vincent was still on the Feyenoord youth team and he basically became fully infatuated with him in that borderline obsessive first crush way. He’d record the Ajax matches and watch them late at night in his room and he’d watch all the interviews and videos of Christian and the Denmark matches when he could get them. It’s one of the main reasons he went to Spurs because he knew Christian was there and he wanted a chance to play with him. So when they first meet Vincent already knows a ton about Christian and he has to act like he isn’t the biggest fankid in the world and try to just be cool like…he is your teammate and your peer now, you can’t just stare at him and gush over him. Meanwhile Christian is his usual oblivious self who has no idea that Vincent has had a crush on him since he was a teenager.

8. How often do people catch onto your little details?

Honestly…I have no idea. I don’t even know if *I* catch on to my little details. If any of my readers out there want to weigh in on this I’m happy to know. Same with podfic…how often do people catch the little effects I put in. Sometimes they are in your face, but sometimes they’re pretty subtle so I wonder if anyone notices them or not.

This is an interesting question. No one has ever really mentioned them to me, but I am always interested at the things people do pick up in my writing because I’m like oh, you’re right, but…I never meant that to be a thing, but there it is! So it’s always a fun surprise, even for me.

Thanks! Fun as always. Sorry I got a bit out of control with the dialogue. Dialogue is one of my favourite things to do.

[baranskini]

Could you write something about what happens during the car ride from AVI to the hotel :D

So this isn’t exactly what the prompt suggested but, it’s kinda the same, well if you squint. Takes places, after they leave the meeting at AVI. While we’re talking about that, did anyone else notice Danny’s strategic iPad placement as he rushed after Margot?? 😏😏

Disclaimer: Not mine, although I wish someone would hire me to write for them, their dialogue is just too fun. Also all mistakes are mine, I apparently only have the ability to write after midnight so forgive me all shortcomings.

Hope you enjoy Anon!

��

“That was a bit obvious, don’t you think?” Danny asked rushing after her, Margot looked up from her phone, arching an eyebrow and smirking.

“Perhaps,” She all but purred, looking back down at the bright screen in her hands. “I was never one for subtlety. I’ve found you get what you want much quicker by avoiding it.”

The ping of the elevator sounded and Margot slipped her phone into her bag. Danny shook his head, biting his bottom lip in a boyish manner. The doors slid open and Margot stepped on, Danny following after her. Hitting the button he waited patiently for the doors to click shut.

“And what is it exactly that you want so quickly?” Danny baited once they were finally alone, turning to her. Margot rolled her eyes and swung round to face him.

“Was that a line, Daniel?” Danny grinned moving over to the control panel and pulling the emergency stop button. The box shuddered to a halt. The dull buzzing of the alarm rang out and was joined by the loud thud of her bag hitting the floor.

“Depends.” He turned, smirking at her. Margot took a step back, resting her lower back against the railing along the side of the elevator and tilting her hips toward him invitingly.

“Depends on what?” She smirked pointedly at him. Danny stalked toward her, grasping her hips in his hands, and pulling her flush against him. She could feel the evidence of their little game of footsie. Danny towered over her, pushing her harder into the wall.

Bending his head, her kissed just below her ear, his mouth hot on her sensitive skin. Moving his lips to the shell of her ear, He whispered; “Depends on whether or not it’s working?”

Margot moaned, loudly. Her hands scrambled to pull apart the buttons of his black shirt.

“It’s working!” She gasped, her hands abandoning his shirt, instead her fingers threaded through his jet black hair holding his mouth to her. Her sassy blue eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her head thunked as it fell against the metal box.

“Good.” He replied shortly, pressing kisses down her throat and along the seam of her bright blue suit. His hands traced her curves, rushing over the material that clung to her. Trailing kisses lower still, he bent, dipping his hand under her skirt.

“Yes!” Margot gasped as his hand teased the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her hands fumbled to grip either side of his head, and draw his lips back to hers; kissing him soundly.

“Mmhm.” He moaned as his hand moved higher still, finally touching her. “Enjoyed that meeting did you?” He asked cockily as his fingers breached the barrier of her knickers.

“Oh, shut up!” She breathed out, her eyes closed and head thrown back, exposing the elegant lines of her throat. Danny chuckled and unable to stop himself, moved his mouth to her neck once again. Sucking and kissing the tender skin of her collarbone, he felt her begin to squirm.

“No-ah,” Margot was cut off, his hand making her knees weaken. “no, no, uh, no marks,” she stuttered, trying to move away from his mouth. Danny ignored her protests and sucked harder on her flesh, his hand under her skirt, pressing harder, making her whimper. Shifting slightly, he changed angles, hitting her just, ah there.

“God!” Margot screamed, biting down on her bottom lip as pleasure washed over her. Danny smirked smugly, leaning back slightly to watch her come apart. Much as he may despise her, he had to admit, seeing the hotshot, con-artist Margot Bishop fall apart was a thing of beauty.

“Good?” He questioned when she finally opened her eyes. Twinkling blue met brown and they stood still for a moment, breathing heavily and staring intently at each other.

Finally she broke the silence, pushing him from her and nodding to the control panel.

“We should get going.” She said and Danny watched her for a few more seconds as she fixed her skirt and pat down the back of her blonde curls.

“Right,” he mumbled, adjusting himself in his jeans and releasing the emergency stop button, setting the lift into motion again.

The next few moments are once against spent in silence, Margot picked up her handbag, while Danny attempted to make his arousal less obvious; although at this point it was rather difficult. The ping of the elevator arriving at their floor, startled them both.

Wordlessly he indicated for her to leave first and trailed behind her. Margot walked confidently, her hips swaying sexily, as she moved off to her left.

“My car is this way,” Danny said, causing her to turn on her heel. Margot raised an eyebrow, in surprise.

“I thought we’d take my car?” She said shrugging, before turning back round and continuing in the same direction, the click of her heels loud against the garage concrete. “Besides,” she called back, smirking mischievously at him over her shoulder, “I have a very discrete and very well paid driver, who will say absolutely bugger all when I use the partitioning screen and take you in the back seat,” Margot grinned at the look on his face, a mixture of confusion, intrigue, and unapologetic lust.

“Coming, Daniel?” She called coyly as she continued on her path. Danny smiled, shaking his head, before following her to the black Escalade. Coming, Daniel? He sure hoped so.

–

[kate-writes-fluff]

If you're still doing dialogue prompts? 160? For whatever you want?

160.  [text] Who says no to sex and donuts?!

When I saw this, I thought of Jean, so @tiggeryumyumm I decided to work in your Valentine’s day themed jeanmarco in the same prompt.

Sorry for the wait!  I’ve been fighting some real writer’s block.

Jean: Who says no to sex and donuts?!

Eren: just bc i work at a bakery doesn’t mean u can take advantage of it

Jean: I just thought it would sweeten the deal ;)

Eren: obviously it didn’t work

Jean: T-T

Eren: considering how thin the walls are in our apartment, i’m grateful for ur lackluster flirting skills

Jean: …. Rude

Jean locks his phone and sighs as lets himself into their apartment.  It’s only 5 a.m., about a half hour after the Wings of Freedom closes for the night and therefore way too early in the morning to deal with Eren’s teasing.  Jean drags his feet as he makes his way to his cluttered bedroom, exhausted from both his most recent rejection and a long night of wiping down tables at the bar.  He simply throws his uniform–which chronically reeks of alcohol–into a corner of the room as he strips, not even bothering to throw on pajamas before he flops into bed and promptly falls asleep.

Hours later he’s ripped away from a pleasant dream about a handsome stranger with plump kissable lips and warm, welcoming arms by an annoying buzzing noise uncomfortably close to his ear.  Jean groans as he fumbles, finally finding his phone underneath his pillow with the display lit up with a new message.  Part of him wants to ignore it, but he knows that if Eren pities him enough he might offer to bring him food–but only if he replies before he changes his mind.

Turns out, the text is from Eren, but it’s a picture of a flyer with no words attached.  He can’t help but groan as he taps the image to enlarge it and squint at the tiny, pixelated words his brain isn’t awake enough to comprehend yet.

“Valentine’s Meet Up,” it says in a curly romantic font.  “Hang out with other singles and donate your time to brighten someone’s day.  Make friends and meet someone new.”

Before Jean can think of a coherent response, though “what the fuck” would probably be a decent enough answer, Eren texts him again.

Eren:  i signed u up

Jean: whyyyyy?

Eren: bc ur single +whiney + u have a day off on 2/14

         also ur a romantic loser so i know ur gonna be extra whiney on V day

Jean: ….

Eren:  u kno im right. Accept it

Jean:  i only read this text b/c i thought you were offering me food

Eren:  if i bring u a donut will u stop complaining

Jean: its a start

Eren: i hate u

Jean puts his phone on his dresser and sighs happily as he relaxes back into his pillow, looking forward to the treat his roommate will inevitably bring him.

Jean makes good on his promise and doesn’t complain about the singles anonymous meeting Eren has signed him up for.  Though he makes sure to give his roommate the stink eye when he finds out that he has holiday plans of his own.

“If you’re hanging out with Mikasa and Armin, then why couldn’t you just let me tag along?”  Jean whines, turning to give his roommate the most pitiful expression he can muster from beside him on their lumpy clearance-sale couch.

Eren doesn’t bother to look up from his phone as he promptly answers, “Because you would spend the whole day complaining and flirting with my sister.”

“Not true!  I might flirt with Armin too,” Jean flutters his eyelashes as Eren groans, turning away from him to finish texting his sister about their plans.

“Yeah, like I want to make my sister and my best friend uncomfortable all day.”

“But you’ll let your sister crash your date with your crush.”

“It’s not a date!”  Eren exclaims despite his bright pink cheeks.

“But Armin is your crush?”  Jean laughs as he reaches out to playfully ruffle his roommate’s hair, an attempt that costs him an elbow in the side.

“I hate you,” Eren groans.

“Then get your own Netflix,” Jean suggests, switching windows on his computer away from the website in question to check his email.  He makes a point to delete his junk mail as slowly as possible, just to rile up his roommate even more.  After about ten excruciatingly long minutes he’s about to give in and start the episode of Stranger Things when a new email pops up in his inbox.

“It’s for that Valentine’s thing,” Jean remarks, catching Eren’s attention.  He crowds over Jean’s shoulder to watch as he opens the message.

Dear Mr. Kirstein,

Thank you for expressing interest in helping to set up and organize the Valentines Meet Up event.  Would you mind meeting me at the bakery to discuss planning details?

Thanks,

Marco Bodt

There’s a moment of silence as they stare blankly at the polite message before Jean pointedly glares over his shoulder.  “Eren!  I thought you signed me up for the event, not the planning committee!!”

“Whoops,” Eren shrugs and leans back into his own spot on the couch, giving his roommate the space he needs to properly fume.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Jean accuses, narrowing his eyes into an even harsher glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Eren turns his attention back to his phone, pointedly avoiding further eye-contact as he resumes texting.  Jean puffs his cheeks angrily, unsure whether the avoidance is a sign of guilt or exactly how little Eren cares about the situation.

“… That’s it, we’re watching Hart of Dixie.”

“No!” Eren exclaims, dropping his phone in his lap as he finally returns eye contact.

“If you signed me up to be a romantic sap for the full week until Valentine’s day, well then I’m going to start now.”

Eren groans but shifts in his seat to see the screen better.  “It’s not even romantic, they’re just idiots for the sake of drama.”

Though Jean agrees with him there, he can’t help but roll his eyes at the remark.  “You can complain when you have an actual love-life, Mr. I’m-in-love-with-my-bff-but-I’m-too-scared-to-say-anything.”

“Says the chronic single,” Eren bites back, digging his elbow into a ticklish spot in Jean’s side, making the other man squirm.  “I hope you meet someone at the stupid event so you’re too busy being stupid and in love to bother me anymore.”

“You and me both.  Watching you guys flirt is more excruciating than watching Zoe and Wade go back and forth.”

Eren grumbles profanities under his breath for several minutes before he angrily remarks, “Are you going to start the show or not?”

Jean sighs as his alarm goes off at 11 a.m. the next day.  Working nights means that on a normal day, he tends to sleep through the afternoon.  But thanks to Eren, he has plans to meet the event guy at the bakery that cut his much-needed sleep short.

The night before had been a long, tiring day and even as he wakes up he still feels tired and listless, barely able to keep his eyes open.  Maybe if he was more awake, he would have put the effort into dressing for a first impression.  But the fact is, he’s simply too tired to care.  So he slips into a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt, not even bothering to comb his hair before he shoves his shoes onto his feet and stumbles out the door.

Eren’s wiping down the counter when he arrives at the Braus’ bakery.  As Jean slumps against the customer side of the counter, Eren shoots him a distasteful look.  “Really, not even an effort?”  

Jean finds enough effort to roll his eyes.  “Give me the sugar I need to get through this.”

Eren grunts an affirmative as he reaches into the display case to pull out a raspberry filled donut.  As Jean pulls out his wallet to begrudgingly pay–though this is all his roommate’s fault, he knows better than asking him to pay too often–Eren nods toward one of the front tables.  “Marco’s here already.”

As Jean turns to find the person he’s meeting, he suddenly wishes he had bothered to look in a mirror before he left the apartment.  Dressed in a spotless lilac button-down and steam-pressed gray slacks, the man looks as put together as Jean isn’t.  But by this point, Jean is just too tired to even think about running back to his apartment to scrounge up an outfit that looks half decent.  Though he does quickly finger-comb his hair before he slides into the chair opposite the man.

“Hi!  Are you Jean?”  The man smiles brightly at his approach, making Jean regret his clothing choices all over again.  Because that dimpled smile single-handedly makes his heart clench and his hands start to sweat.  Though the freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose certainly make the expression far more endearing than anything larger than a baby animal should ever be.  In contrast, Jean can almost feel the bags under his eyes and wonders what the stranger thinks about the hot mess he regrettably is.

“Yeah.” Jean does his best to smile politely, though it falls short.  His cheeks feel stiff and his flirting muscles are not quite awake enough to throw out his usual charms.  “Are we waiting for anyone else?”  He takes a moment to look around the shop and though there are few people getting breakfast to go, there aren’t many people milling around.

“No… you’re the only volunteer.”  Marco threads his fingers around his coffee cup and looks crestfallen for a moment before he smiles again.  “Let’s start brainstorming, shall we?” he suggests as he pulls out a small spiral notebook and a pen.

“Um, sure.  What do you have in mind?”

Marco eagerly flips the page in his notebook, revealing rows upon rows of neat handwriting and messy doodles and diagrams.  “I’m so glad you asked.”

The following week is the busiest Jean’s had in years.  Whenever he turns around, he’s making bright colored paper chains or folding squares of paper and cutting out paper shapes, filling his and Eren’s apartment with boxes upon boxes of decorations.  Whenever Jean gets ready for work, he can hear Eren stumbling and cursing over the new boxes that appear while he’s out of the apartment.  It would be funnier if Jean didn’t trip over the damn things himself, too.

The highlight of all the paper toil is that Marco is loathe to make him work alone.  During the week, they meet up at the bakery at noon, where Marco spends his lunch break away from the library decorating the place with him.  (Jean makes a mental note to pay the local library a visit someday soon.)

Even after spending so much time together, Jean doesn’t find himself tiring of Marco.  In fact, with each day he looks forward to every time he leaves to return to work, Jean finds himself actually looking forward to the next day even more.  Marco is just as charming as he was the first day they met, cheerful, creative, and fun.  

Unwilling to repeat the embarrassment of their first meeting, Jean’s careful to pick the best outfits in his closet for their afternoon meetings.  He can’t help but blush the day Marco compliments a shirt ornamented with an iron-on transfer of one of his own art prints.

Jean has always been one to preen over compliments, but the sheer sincerity in Marco’s voice and smile as he gives them is enough to fluster him every time.  Halfway through the week, Jean realizes that his attraction for Marco is slowly growing more than skin-deep.  That day, Marco laughs cheerfully at even the shittiest of his puns–a quip about Eren being the real breadwinner in their roommate relationship because bussing tables doesn’t exactly set the bar high–and Jean softens.

By the weekend, Jean finally finds the guts to invite Marco over, so they can watch movies while they create card supplies.  Marco brings takeout and they eat together on his lumpy couch.  When Jean watches tv with Eren, they have no qualms about personal space, throwing arms and legs into the lap of the other at a whim because they’ve learned not to care about boundaries after years of living together.  Here, with Marco, Jean is fully aware of just how small the sofa is and just the barest brushing of skin against skin is enough to make him jittery.  

Marco doesn’t seem to mind his nervousness, too busy laughing at the antics of the characters of The Grand Budapest Hotel and flashing smiles Jean’s way when a particularly funny line is spoken.  Jean confides that he’s an aspiring artist working at the bar only to make money in the meantime, so Marco makes an effort to point out the parts he finds visually inspiring.  He enjoys the pastel color palettes–strikingly similar to the colors of his dress shirts– and cheerfully taps Jean’s knee to point out the most brightly colorful scenes.  (He likes the pinks of the Mendl’s boxes the most.)

At nine o’ clock, Marco needs to leave and Jean has to get dressed for another night working the bar.  As Jean locks the door behind them, Marco hesitates for a moment, twisting his fingers together.  “I’ve heard that In the Mood for Love is a really visually interesting movie too.  And I’ve been dying to see it,” he remarks off-handedly, looking down the hall at the flickering lights instead of at Jean.

“Sounds cool,” he says, words that seem like the understatement of the century.  

For the first time ever, he smiles through his whole shift at work.

“Do you guys have to come flirt at my workplace every day?”  Eren asks on February 13th.  “It’s sorta gross.”

Jean’s ears warm but he scoffs at the question, “We are not flirting.  He just happens to actually appreciate my jokes.  Unlike some people.”  

Eren snorts. ��“The only way he’d find you funny is if he has a crush.”  He leans against the oven door casually, enjoying watching Jean squirm with embarrassment for once.

Jean huffs in retaliation, “Less talking, more baking.  If we’re doing to decorate cookies tomorrow, we need cookies.”

Finally it’s the night of Valentine’s day and Jean’s nervous.  All their hard work is on display, hung up around the bakery, decorating it with reds and pinks from head to toe.  Trays of fresh cookies are ready to decorate and paper pieces are prepared for cards.

The cheerfully colored donation boxes are set up in the front of the room, listing the names of local hospitals and orphanages that are accepting cards.  The slogan “Give a card, give a smile,” hangs on a banner directly behind the boxes.

Sugary sweet pop music starts playing as Marco returns from the sound system, setting up a themed playlist from his phone.  Jean tries not to stare at the pink tie the man has on–the same color as the Mendl’s boxes in the movie they had seen together.

“It’s almost time,” Marco smiles, threading his fingers together restlessly.  “People should start arriving anytime now.”  The air between them seems charged with anxious restlessness.  Suddenly, in their last moments alone together it hits Jean that once the day is over, once they clean up the bakery, they’ll lose their excuses to see each other.

It doesn’t really matter that over the course of the week, Jean has learned that Marco’s favorite color is teal and that Persuasion is his favorite Jane Austen novel.  That Marco didn’t tease him when Jean confided that his favorite childhood movie was The Princess Bride.  It doesn’t matter that Jean showed Marco his art portfolio and the other man enthusiastically admired it, saying that if he ever finished writing his book he’d love to commission him to design the cover.

Once the event is done, they no longer have a reason to spend so much time together.

The shop bell rings and people start arriving, forcing the two men to separate and socialize, doing their best to keep the mingling running as smoothly as possible.  (Honestly, Jean hates this sort of thing, but after all the work they had done, he can’t weasel his way out of chaperoning a bunch of adults for a night.)

Regardless of how busy Jean finds himself throughout the night, his eyes always wander to the other side of the room where Marco is cheerfully chatting with other cute single people.  

He’s busy staring instead of paying attention to the card making tables when a young woman with wavy auburn hair whistles at him.  “Yo loverboy.  This is the wrong place to stand around being lovesick,” she chides, carelessly wiping cookie crumbs off her fingers.  “Sit down, make a card.  You’ll fit in with all the unhappy singles that way.”  She grabs a sheet of cardstock out of the pile and quickly scribbles something on it before handing it over.

It messily reads “Ur hot freckleface” above a hand-drawn heart that looks remarkably like a butt.

“See, it’s half done now.”

Jean sighs but sits down to work on fix the card she started.  He grabs a pink paper heart that’s just barely large enough to cover her unromantic words.  As he glues it down, he can’t help but notice that it’s the same shade as Marco’s tie and that thought convinces him to hazard a glance over at him.  The tall man is busy chatting and working on decorating his own cookies, even as he oversees others.

It wouldn’t hurt to make my own, I guess, he muses, searching through the box of children’s markers to find a color he likes.  It’s been years since he’s made anyone a hand-made valentine.  The only friend that might appreciate one would be Armin–the most sentimental out of the group–, though Eren would definitely change the wifi passwords for that sort of “personal offence.”

After an hour, Jean and Marco switch stations; Jean overseeing the decorations of the last batch of cookies while Marco helps with the cards.  Jean slides his own card into the back pocket of his jeans, unwilling to let his newfound friend even guess toward his intentions yet.

Finally, two hours after it started, people begin to leave, many of them in small groups as they chat and exchange phone numbers.  Even the woman who “helped” Jean with his card is cheekily hanging off the arm of a stern-faced young man.  She whispers something in his ear and his cheeks flare red before she turns back to wink at Jean as they leave the building.

The floor is covered in cookie crumbs, sprinkles, and paper scraps that will be a pain to clean-up, but even so Marco still smiles.  “Looks like a success.  People walked in alone, but they’re leaving with friends.”

Jean’s card feels like a weight in his pocket and he has to concede that yeah, it really seems like a success.  

They take their time cleaning, taking away all the little sugary clues that they’d been there, that they’d prepared for a whole week over it.  Jean’s smile falls as he returns to his earlier train in thought:  that their reason for spending time together is quickly falling away as they sweep up the mess.

“Cheer up, Jean.  The night’s still young,” Marco laughs, taking a moment to turn up the speakers.  Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” blares, bringing back memories of youtube videos Jean forgot watching.

“Where’d you find this?  What year do you think it is?  2007?”  

The music becomes a palpable presence in the room, especially as Marco begins singing along, dancing with his broom as he sweeps.  Jean cracks a smile as he laughs, leaning into the table he was in the midst of cleaning for support.  He’s laughing so hard that he doesn’t notice Marco’s approach until he leans the broom against his table.

“Mind dancing with me?  That broom is just too stiff and wooden.”  Marco holds his palm upwards, like a prince asking for a dance in the ball of a fairytale, not in an empty bakery that looks like it was ransacked by preschoolers on a sugar-high.

“I can’t dance.”  Jean waves his hands in refusal, but Marco’s grin only widens.

“Neither can I.”

Finally, Jean gives in and reaches out to hold onto Marco’s shoulders as the other man leads him around the room.  They trip and stumble on chairs they hadn’t put away yet, but they only laugh in the face of their own clumsiness, each mistake bringing their bodies even closer together.

The song ends and something slower and mellower replaces it.  Jean can feel his pulse pounding but it’s hard to be embarrassed about it when he can feel the beat of Marco’s own heart from where their chests are touching.  

“I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts.  Some superhero, some fairytale bliss.

Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss.”

Marco smiles breathlessly, his lips barely inches from Jean’s, and suddenly it feels a little too close and intimate, so Jean takes a step back to pull the card out of his pocket.  It’s more than a little crumpled around the edges from their romp around the shop, but Jean finds himself passing it over anyway.  It just seems… fitting.

The card is brightly colored and framed with paper hearts, but on the front it simply reads “Thanks” in Jean’s best penmanship.  Marco’s face falls a little as he looks at it, so Jean hurries to explain himself as he opens it.  “I wanted to thank you for setting this all up, because it really turned out to be a lot of fun.  And mostly because I got to meet you.  And I hope you don’t mind if I ask, but I’d really like to keep hanging out, even though Valentine’s day is over….”

Marco cuts him off with a gentle hand on his own.  “I’d really like that…  But you know, Valentine’s day isn’t over quite yet….  And there’s no one I’d rather spend it with than you.”

Jean’s cheeks burn brightly as Marco retrieves a small plastic bag from where it’s lying forgotten on the counter:  a cookie decorated with a heart and Jean spelled in pretty cursive.

They have a whole lot of cleanup left to do, but Jean really can’t bring himself to mind.  Even if he had to stay there all night, picking up each and every crumb individually with his bare fingers, he’d willingly do it if Marco would keep looking at him the way he is now, like he’s been the highlight of the night.

But the night’s still young, of course.  And if they want to watch In the Mood for Love and kiss on Jean’s couch, then they need to finish cleaning.

[troublesomefreak]

I love these doodles so bad how dare you create such beautiful art 🫵

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