#TAKE AWAY MY ART UTENSILS I HAVE TO WORK ON OTHERS STUFF

[hinkepink]

"What ails you, my child?"

[greenlightbulbonawire]

Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song)

L.

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Summary: From the dark musty cell of Stillwater all the way to the very base of Firelights, but where to from there? Guess you'll just have to let fate lead you.

Author's note: I'm back again with another chapter!! Just a preemptive warning tho, I'll be posting one more and then taking a break to process the events of season 2 cuz it's just around the corner and I need to figure out if I'm gonna add it to the fic or ignore it and continue with my own cannon! Anyways I hopa yall are as exited as I am for it!! :]

previous chapter: Fourty ninth chapter

next chapter: Fifty first chapter

Masterlist

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“What do you think you’re doing! Stir it!” “Oh right! Sorry, sorry!” “You better be!” Lyra rolled with her eyes, but let out a chuckle, before smacking you over your head. “HEY!” “When you’re cooking, you have to pay attention! Don’t daydream or get distracted! Food is a delicate art and it requires careful handling.” “You sure don’t mess around do you?” Lyras lips turned into a small proud smile and she nodded. “I want everyone in here to have a good time at least once a day, and I can do that with my cooking! I know I don’t have the best personality when it comes to comforting people and stuff, but I can give them a good time by making food. I mean, you know the saying, food brings us all together, or something.” “I’m not sure that’s a saying but hey, I was stuck in a prison for most of my life so what do I know?”

The pot filled with food was held tightly in your hands as Lyra smacked some kitchen utensil hard against a pipe near the dining table. “Everyone! Dinner’s ready!” You placed the pot onto the table and turned back to go grab plates and the cutlery while the other Firelight members gathered around the table and took their seats. Lyra helped you give everyone their plates and once the table was fully set, they started to put the food you two, though mostly Lyra, prepared. After some time, Ekko came to join the dinner too. He looked tired and his face was dirtied up, his face paint smudged and carrying a wrench in hand still. The board he was fixing must’ve been really messed up this time, okay, noted, don’t let Fae touch the hoverboards again.

“Hey everyone, have a good day?” The leader said and sat down too, putting some food on his plate like everyone else, while sparing a smile towards your way and then fully focused on his food. Lyra closed the distance between her and you and poked your side with their elbow. When you turned your face towards her, her lips were turned into a sly smirk and they raised their eyebrows at you. You let out a sight and rolled your eyes, but your face changed its shade to red in the subtlest way possible. “You’re not gonna eat? We, well, I worked so hard on it!!” “What? No, I’m gonna eat, I just, well, you’re still standing too.” “Oh yeah good point, let’s sit down.” Lyra grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards an empty place, getting plates for the both of you. “You better stuff your face with my food!”

… “Don’t worry ‘bout it! I’ll clean up with the kids, you go have fun! And you better not be a coward ya hear me?” Lyra pierced you with her eyes and shoved you away. “Uh huh, yeah sure, I’ll try.” “Well then why are you just standing around here, you’re in the way! And that goes for you too kiddos, you ate and now it’s time to clean up!” You scoffed with a smile at Lyras intensity and started walking away, waving at the kids now stuck cleaning up. The light of the day was slowly but surely disappearing as the night took its place, maybe a little night rooftop stroll could be nice? But then again, you haven’t taken up any tasks in a while from the place that Felix showed you. Oh maybe hanging out with him could be fun too! “And I thought I’d be bored today, I never realised there was so much to do!” You whispered to yourself and continued strolling around the Firelight hideout, your eyes fixed onto the ground.

“Hey [reader], you with us or have you travelled into outer space?” A familiar voice rang through the air, making you snap out of your head and return to reality. “Oh Ekko… Hiiii.” You said and looked up to meet his gaze, reminding yourself how messy of a state he was currently in. Maybe the hoverboards shouldn’t be destroyed on a weekly basis. “Promise to not ruin your board for at least three weeks okay?” “Oh yeah that, I’m sorry.” Heat rose into your face, next only because you felt really bad for putting more onto this poor boy's plate, and you shifted your gaze back towards the ground, ashamed. “Nah it’s aight, but ya know, I’d prefer to spend my time differently to be honest.” “Yeah I know, Lyra chewed me up for it already.” “That’s good, at least I don’t have to ey?” Ekko replied and rested his elbow on your shoulder.

“So, any plans for tonight?” The boy asked you, while you two walked back to his work room so you could pick up your board again. “No, not yet that is. But probably nothing using the boards though. You?” “Yeah, that checks out. Well I don’t really have a plan either, but I’m probably gonna just take some time to relax.” Ekko opened the door and pushed you in, following right behind you. The events of your past interactions and talks with other members however made you extremely aware of each time this boy touched you in any way. And you felt yourself heat up again. Why is this happening?!

[babyboy-cody]

Hi I’ve recently stumbled across your new Dolan twin stuff and the way you write is amazing!! Are your requests open? If so can you do something w gray where he’s all soft and needy and cuddly and she needs to get school work done so she just sits in between his legs doing work and he plays w her hair etc etc.??

thank you!! and yes, requests are always open! ^.^

Finals week was possibly the hardest and most stressful thing you’ve ever done in your entire life on Earth. Studying for midterms during your junior year of high school, applying for colleges, applying for jobs, studying for your driver’s test - all of that was a piece of cake. You checked it off as though it was a grocery list, moving on to the next thing in order to finish your day. But finals week for your final year of college was a mix of Adderall, panic attacks, no sleep, and bitten nails and nail beds. You’ve never experienced such stress, and it worried not only you, but Grayson as well. You rarely ate, barely showered - he even had to buy you blue-light glasses because you complained about your vision being blurry and getting intense migraines.

He deeply and terribly missed you. He understands how difficult finals can be, and he supports you till the end. But what you’ve been doing is unhealthy. You don’t have a steady schedule to separate your academic life from your personal life, and it’s been causing lots of issues. You’ve been unintentionally snapping at Grayson, especially over the littlest things. For example, Grayson was incredibly sweet enough to clean up your desk area. He stacked your books in chronological order, neatened up your notes, wiped away dust that caused his allergies to spike. Accidentally, he misplaced your glasses. And you had a fit and nervously paced back and forth while biting your already bitten nails.

“Baby…” he softly spoke. “They’re over here.” And he had pointed to your side of the bed where he had put them. You didn’t mean to raise your voice, and you had broken down to tears, to which Grayson quickly pull you into his arms and hushed you quietly while giving you kisses. He understood and he never once held that against you.

Today, you had finished one of three finals. You had one thesis paper you had to research for and a chart project for your liberal arts class. So far so good, you mentally told yourself. Your laptop was open to numerous tabs as you had your books open in front of you. Highlighters, pens, and pencils were spread around the bed. Your back ached and you repetitively cracked and stretched your muscles. You desperately needed a massage, specifically from Grayson because he is the king of back massages. Just thinking about his large, warm hands kneading into your skin while whispered praise in your ears had you sighing softly and closing your eyes.

“What’re you thinking about?” You heard Grayson’s voice as he enters the room, holding a plate of vegan sausages, cauliflower nuggets, roasted potatoes that are seasoned so well that you can smell it from your spot on the bed. He holds a glass of cold green tea in the other and motions for you to scoot over. “You gotta eat, babe.”

Your mouth instantly waters as you take the plate and thanks him with a tired smile and a gentle nudge on his shoulder. Grayson observes you silently as you dig into the delicious vegan dinner he cooked. The small moan you let out as you continue eating. He almost wanted to do a happy wiggle because you were eating without telling him “one more minute” or “i’ll eat later.”

“I missed you,” he quietly told you, pushing you hair away from your face as it gets to close to your chewing mouth. He tucks it behind your ear with his thumb. He strokes the back of your head, smiling you when you nudge your head back further against his hand. “When you’re done eating, we’re gonna set a healthy schedule together, okay? And then you spend time with me for a little bit.”

You sigh quietly and hand him your empty plate. “Gray, baby, I’d love to… but I have so much work to do and have zero time to relax for even two minutes,” you told him in a quiet apologetic tone.

“Okay, it’s okay,” he quickly reassured you when he saw the panic in your eyes. He gave your cheek a few small kisses and put your plate and cup on the table. “I just… missed you, ya know.”

“And I missed you more.” You felt him sit behind you, legs on either side of your crossed arms. His arms wrapped around your stomach, immediately pulling you into his hard chest hidden underneath his Dolan Twins merch sweatshirt. “Gray..”

He whined deep in your shoulder as his arms tightened when you tried to move away. You stifled a laugh by biting your lip and looking up at the ceiling. He always got so needy when you didn’t give him enough attention. If you two are in the same room and sitting too far from each other, he’ll send you a text and look at you over the top of his phone, feeling giddy when you roll your eyes jokingly and get up from your seat to go to him.

“Just a few minutes,” his voice muffled behind your shoulder. You laughed at his childish antics and brought your laptop closer to you. Grayson was happy that you didn’t shrug him off. You allowed him to do as he pleased while you finished your small project. “So pretty..”

“Thank you, baby,” you laughed quietly when he pulled your hair behind your shoulders to braid it. You remember him telling you a while ago that he learned how to braid from Cameron. He was always a curious kid growing up and wanted to learn something new everyday.

Grayson hummed in content as he finished the braid and tied it with the small hair tie he kept around his wrist for his own hair, which is getting a bit long, but he knows you’ll throw a huge fit if he gets a haircut. He wrapped his arms back around you and laid his head against your back, eyes shutting and body slouching. The weight of him got more and more heavy, slowly pushing you forward. You tried sneaking a look over your shoulder, pausing your typing for a second. The movement made Grayson let out a sluggish hum.

“Baby, come lay down on my lap,” you told him, stacking up the books you didn’t need and putting your writing utensils into your case.

Grayson lets out a small “yay!” and quickly moves down next to your lap. When he lays his head down, he gives your thigh a kiss and wiggles his shoulders. You shake your head down at him and use one hand to slowly type while the other makes its way into his thick hair. The slow clicks of your keyboard mixed with the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp and playing with his hair has him lulling to sleep. When you hear small snores, you look down and felt your heart melt. You quietly grabbed your phone and took a picture, his cheek smushed against your thigh and his lips parted.

When you posted it to Instagram, the caption was:

thank you for always supporting me and making sure i’m mentally here. i don’t know what i’d do without you. 💜 @/graysondolan

[crystal-moon-101]

Since I saw people talking about Ben's little big chill kids, I thought I'd finally do some headshots of my ones, who are also a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen. For me, I've always imagined that for young necrofriggians, they all start out looking the same (Beyond some size difference), but as they grow older, they'll start to develop their own patterns, small body traits and shades of colour, as showcased here. I'll share the little info on each sibling, and the basics of who they are as a person. When Ben first found them again, saving them from poachers and going full mum mode, they had been developing these different psychical traits, but not enough to identify each properly on their own, so while giving them names, Gwen used bandana pieces to colour code them, and each kid still wears theirs to this day, slightly modified. So here they are now, as full grown young adults. You can follow from left to right each row, or just the colours next to their names. -North (Black)- The largest and physically strongest of the kids, North acts as the leading member when Ben isn't around, doing their best to watch out for their siblings and be a middle ground to them. It's been this way since they were born, looking out for them and doing whatever they can to protect the others. This has resulted in North collecting quite a few scars and wing tears, though they wear them with pride, wanting to display how strong they are to others. They often looks up to Ben when it comes to being a hero, in how their mumdad protects others and the galaxy, and wants to be a fighter like him one day, often asking to train with their mumdad whenever he's around. Ben has suggested Plumber training for North, but they're still thinking about that. -Tundra (Red)- Tundra is a very curious one, and is known to wander off when things catch their interest. They prefer using experience to learn from, thus making them quick on their feet when something happens, and good at thinking logical. When the siblings are struggling with something, or come across some kind of problem, it's often Tundra who provides the quickest answers that should go well for them. That being said, due to their wandering, they gave gotten into trouble a few times and need to be saved by their siblings or Ben, as despite how smart they are, they can be a bit of a ditz when something catches their interest. -Grey (Silver)- Having a connection to the earth bellow, Grey often spends their time searching caves, and any hidden areas they can find. They especially love to research and find minerals of any kind, ranging from metals to gems, sometimes even studying their metal lunch for the day before eating it. Because of this, they can be carelessly dirty, and aren't the cleanest of people, but does pick up after themself when reminded. Grey is also pretty close with their sibling Storm, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Storm (Brown)- As someone who likes to spend a lot of time flying and high in the clouds, Storm is fascinated by the weather and how it behaves, and feeling the cold fresh air and challenging themself with flight training. This has provided them to have the most agility in the air, and knows the best ways to build up speeds, while also not draining themself. Whenever they aren't flying around, they're doing research on the weather, very keen to be a meteorologist one day. Whenever Ben visits, they will often ask him about the weather on other planets, and any adventures he's had in the sky. Storm is also pretty close with their sibling Grey, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Crystal (Blue)- Graceful on their feet, Crystal is a charming and gentle person, with a keenness for the art of dancing, especially when hovering in the air. This was something sparked in them when seeing how the patches in their wings, which are see through, glittered and reflected light through them, making Crystal often move around to see what they could get them to do, and the introduction of dancing was something they latched onto as a result. They are one of the hardest of the siblings to get angry, upset or rile up, and often goes with the flow and speaks in a slow and soft voice. Because of their kind nature and beautiful display of their wings, Crystal has attracted many others who are interested in them, many falling for them after meeting Crystal for a mere minute, though they tend to pretend not to notice, and turn down those who ask. -Orion (Orange)- Having an eye for art, Orion is a skilled painter and drawer, while also dabbling into other art forms to create things, their room filled with their works of art, and often creating gifts for others. From when they were little, Orion has always admired their auntie Gwen, and are always keen and eager to hang out with her when she visits, showing every new drawing and painting they have made while she was away. In fact their fondness for auntie Gwen is why they picked the orange bandana, as it reminded them of her hair. -Neva (Green)- Fashion focused and head strong, Neva is a keen one, who knows exactly what they like and isn't afraid to say it. They love designing things to wear, especially since fashion isn't that big on Kylmyys, and Ben brings them fabrics and items they request from earth whenever he comes by on a visit. Though, despite Neva's expensive tastes, they are most certainly aren't a snob, and more often than not create outfits and accessories for others that Neva knows they'd like, and wants to bring out the best beauty in them. Though admittedly, they can get a bit carried away if someone asks for fashion advice, or even brings up the idea of something related to it. Neva also a bit of a business mind too, having gotten some clients recently on their homeworld after seeing what Neva could make. -Raine (Aqua)- A very sweet young one, Raine has a keen eye for collecting things, particularly shiny or unknown stuff. From gemstones to simple earth utensil, if something interests them, Raine is known to take it with them, sometimes snatching without thinking. They don't mean any harm, and just sometimes think before acting, and will give something back if they've realized what they've done, but if it's clear they can keep it, then they aren't one to share, though do like to show off what they have with joy. They are also very well organized, knowing where everything they own is, and even when their siblings misplace something, having a photography memory and mental list of things. They may own a lot of stuff, but that doesn't mean they want to live in a pigsty. -Vale (Yellow)- Being one of the quiet ones, Vale likes to keep a lot to themself, and don't speak very often, only when they need to. They spend a lot of time outside, observing nature as it passes by them, using a little diary to note down what they see, hear, feel, smell and even taste. They like to appreciate silence and the world around them, and the beauty of nature, and collect little things to store away in their diary as memory. Whenever they visit earth, they love to visit the forests in the spring and summer, seeing the range of colours blooming from flowers, and has many flower prints because of this. -Lux (Beige)- Quite the basic of people, Lux likes to live life in a simple way, and tends to try and stare clear of any chaos, which is quite hard when you have 13 wild siblings. Because of them, they can come across as annoyed and frustrated at times, and can be blunt and honest, but they do love their siblings, and is often the one that says what's needed to be said. Lux also have massive wings compared to their body, a ratio none of the others have, and use to trip over their feet a lot growing up. Now, their massive wings are a great way to hide away when they're not in the mood to talk to read a book, or to hug a family member when seeing them down. -Micha (Pink)- Bubbly and sneaky, Micha has been dubbed the "Pink Ninja" for a reason, someone almost always able to hide away and sneak up on others. They love to jump scare people, and has found more and more crafty ways to get around without being noticed, even without their ability to go invisible. They love to pull jokes and get a laugh out of people, and Micha is known to have a snort with their own laughter. It's always their mission to catch Ben off guard when he visits, as each time it gets trickier due to him knowing it's coming, and his training and skills build up over the years, but Micha always finds a way in the end. -Zodiac (Gold)- Patient and often neutral toned, Zodiac is often seen to be pretty wise. From a young age, they've always loved stories from history, especially those about myths and legends they hear from around the galaxy, and spend a lot of their time reading and researching anything they hear about, always keen to hear a new story they may have never heard about before. It always fascinates them how much Ben has seen and done, and the stories he tells, Zodiac is practically fond of those about Alien X and Celestialsapians, and wants to meet one one day. -Alaska (White)- High on energy 99% of the time, Alaska is always zooming around and never has time to stop. They rarely sit still for long, and it takes a lot to drain them of their endless energy, always moving in a blink of an eye. Because of this, Alaska is the fastest of the crew, which has come in handy often. But they can be easily bored, and a little frustrating to deal with when they don't pay attention, but they do like to spend that energy by jumping around each sibling to spend the day with, and wants to engage in all of their activities to support them. -Arlo (Purple- The smallest of them, Arlo was born the runt of the group, but thanks to their siblings, especially North, they managed to survive childhood when most other necrofriggian runts would have died. This makes Arlo the baby of the group, and the one they all want to protect, even if it can be a little baring at much, wanting to prove they can be strong on their own. And Arlo somewhat got their wish, when reaching a certain age and Ben learning that one of his children had the spark, thus meaning Arlo is an Anodite, and is able to use magic, though they're far from being perfect at it, and their small body sometimes struggles to keep up. But each day Arlo practices, wanting to feel more than just the tiny one, but they are generally kind and great with emotions, being very supportive and just trying their hardest.

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #4 - Best Girls, Good Guys, Hand Art, Joy Rides

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: Cursing, Implied PTSD, Mention of IED, Motorcycle Ride Without Helmets

Setting/Characters: Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sam’s therapy group, Lady at the Front Desk, Mentions of Peggy Carter and Riley

A/N: Here’s number 4! Like I said in the previous One Shot, I’m hoping to get TWS One Shots done today and tomorrow. Um, I don’t have a lot to say this time since I unloaded pretty much everything in the last One Shot. So, I guess that’s all!

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(PICTURE DOESN’T REPRESENT READER, JUST WHAT THE ART STEVE DREW LOOKS LIKE!)

“How is she?”

Steve nodded, taking the helmet he insisted on keeping for you in the compartment under his seat out and handing it over. What a hypocrite. “She’s fine. I guess. She…forgot. We were in the middle of a conversation and she…forgot I was alive.”

You gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Alzheimer’s is a scary thing. I’m sorry. It must be hard seeing your best girl go through that.” He froze, his wide eyes scanning you. You ignored his gaze, giving him the helmet back. You really hoped it didn’t come out as sad and spiteful as you meant it. You didn’t want to despise her, you really didn’t. You couldn’t. You had too much respect for her. She did help build the organization you worked for. You just hated the position you found yourself in. “We’re just going to the VA. It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“No, honey. I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“I won’t, Steve.” You pushed back. “I’ve done it before in a lot more dangerous places than the streets of DC. Plus, I trust you. You wouldn’t let me get hurt, would you?”

His lips turned up slightly, his head shaking just enough. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Hop on, then.” He jerked his head to his bike, putting the helmet away before sitting down with you following his lead. You pressed against him, an arm around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips lightly. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, setting your chin on his shoulder.

The bike roared to life underneath you before you took off. You were never worried when Steve drove. Sometimes he liked going fast when you two go for a drive through backroads of Virginia for a weekend, camping underneath the stars. But when you were in DC, he cruised, fast enough that you could get pulled over for doing ten over, but slow enough that you didn’t have to shout over the rush of the wind combing through your hair.

He usually talked to you while driving, but he was quiet this time. You turned your head to study him. His jaw ticked ever so often, his eyebrows furrowed and those pink lips turned down.

You didn’t want to distract him, but you couldn’t help but lift your free hand, tracing his jaw from his chin to his ear before pressing soft circles into the hinge of his jaw with your thumb. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No. No, you’re perfect, honey.” He reassured quickly, moving around a car, side eyeing you for just a second. “I’ve just…there’s a lot on my mind. A lot I need to figure out.”

You nodded. “If you ever need me. I’m here.”

He grinned, taking your hand in one of his to press a kiss to the knuckles, eyes not leaving the road. “I know.”

“Tell me more about this Sam Wilson guy.”

Steve chuckled before telling you about his run the day prior and how he lapped Wilson a few times and their conversation afterwards. He was just finishing up when he parked in the parking garage of the VA, “and then Natasha drove up saying she was looking for a fossil she was supposed to pick up.”

“A fossil.” You snorted. “I’m gonna have to use that.”

He gave you a playful glare as you swung your leg around and stood up. Catching your jaw between his fingers, he chuckled when he squished your cheeks together. “Call me a fossil, honey, and I’ll tell Fury the only way I’m doing missions is if you don’t.”

You gasped, shaking your head. “You ‘ouldn’!” You slurred out, trying to talk with your lips pursed.

He gave a little giggle, gently making your head move up and down in a nod. “Oh yes I would.” He pecked your nose, letting go of your cheeks. “C’mon, dame.” You blinked after him as he started towards the elevators with long strides.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

He smirked at you over his shoulder as you jogged to catch up, holding his hand out behind him. “C’mon. You know I’d never do that to ya.”

Narrowing your eyes, you snatched his hand and huffed. “Well…yeah. But still.”

Another chuckle left his lips, pulling you closer to his side as you pressed the button for the elevator, leaving a kiss on your head. You fell into comfortable silence after that, Steve’s thumb tracing patterns on your hand while you waited for the elevator to ding.

When it finally did, Steve had a pen pulled out and, as you entered the elevator, he pulled your hand up closer to his face, lifting the writing utensil to the back of your palm.

You didn’t say anything, merely looking around the elevator after pushing the level you were going to. It was something you found that calmed Steve; drawing. So whenever he was bored or anxious, you let him draw on your hand. He used to ask, but he stopped after you told him you’d never say no.

The elevator dinged and the doors open, causing Steve to stop inking up your skin and drop your still linked hands down to your sides, shoving his pen in his pocket. You looked down at the partial flower and leaves wrapping around your wrist, smiling affectionately. He really was a good artist.

The lady at the front desk told you where to go when you asked for Sam Wilson, which Steve did rather eagerly, making you laugh. He had told you about Sam’s want to impress her when he came in. Apparently he was with a group, but she said it was okay for you to go in as long as you didn’t disrupt anything. Steve thanked her, before following her directions down the hall and around the corner.

You heard them before you saw them. A woman was talking, telling a story of how she got pulled over the previous week. Steve leaned against a column to the side of the room, out of the way, putting his hands in his pockets. You let his hand go to allow him to do so, linking your arm with his and holding his wrist with your free hand.

“I swerved…to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

You watched Steve’s reactions through the rest of the session. It wasn’t much longer - maybe ten minutes - before it ended. You had tried to convince him to go to one of these when he first got out of the ice, but he refused.

“I’ve already got you, honey. That’s all I need.”

And, yes, he did have you; your assignment was literally helping him with that stuff. But you still thought he’d benefit from it. Especially now since you had started going back on your own assignments. Maybe he’d start going to Wilson’s.

After the meeting, you and Steve walked up to the veteran who had just finished his farewells and started cleaning up the table at the front with brochures and things. “Look who it is. The running man. And who’s this pretty lady?”

You smiled, sticking out your hand, your name leaving your lips in an introduction. “Sam Wilson.” He shook your hand with a grin of his own. “Nice to meet you, cher.”

“You too, Sam.”

“We caught the last few minutes.” Steve stated, leaning on the wall again, keeping his arm linked with yours. “It’s pretty intense.”

You listened sadly as Sam told you two about his wingman, Riley, but you didn’t pity him. You knew what it was like to lose people and you hated the pity you received from others. You were glad to see he wasn’t beating himself up over it, even allowing himself to smile as the conversation shifted to his retirement. Steve was right; he did seem like a good guy. 

“Are you thinking about getting out?”

You glanced up at Steve as he answered “no.” You saw the hesitation in his eyes that flickered to you, before he met Sam’s again. “I don’t know.” Hearing Steve admit that he didn’t know what he wanted made your heartache. You wanted him to be happy, and the fact that he didn’t know what made him happy caused you to grip his arm tighter.

You, Sam, and Steve talked a bit longer, getting to know each other a little better. You even did the unthinkable and told him you worked for SHIELD when he asked how you two knew each other. Steve raised an amused eyebrow as your eyes widened, your hand slapping over your mouth.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I just told you that. You can’t tell anyone.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

You finally said bye when Sam mentioned needing to get back to work. Walking back towards the elevators, Steve chuckled and nudged you. “You warmed up to him quickly.”

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes, your face landing in your hands. “Oh my God. I’ve never told anyone that. Ever.”

“I told you. He’s a good person. Easy to talk to.”

“Yeah…speaking of,” you tilted your head up to him as you stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind you. “Do you want to get out?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said. I just…I don’t really know…what to do.”

You pouted a little, tilting your head. “What would you’ve done in the 40’s? After the war?”

“I dunno.” He shuffled on his feet. “Be a lab rat.”

“Steven-”

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “Please don’t.” He said softly, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, one thumb smoothing out your forehead while the other ran over your pouty lips. “Don’t be upset.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m not. I, just…worry.”

He placed his lips to your forehead, hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer. “Well don’t.”

Your hands mimicked his previous position, holding his face, thumb brushing under his eyes. Your eyes caught sight of the barely started design on your hand, and your lips pursed thoughtfully. 

“What?”

“Drawing makes you happy.” He blinked at your words, confusion in those ocean eyes of his. “You said you don’t know what makes you happy. Drawing does. And you’re really good at it. You could be an artist or something. Like a tattoo artist. I’d go to you. I mean, look at this!” You showed him your hand. “It’s not even halfway done and you did it with a crappy dollar store pen”

He gave you a small smile. “I appreciate that, honey, but I don’t think I could do that day in and day out.”

“Even with new customers coming in every day, asking for different designs in different places?”

Giving a chuckle, he leaned into your palm, kissing it. “You really want me to think about this don’t you?”

You scoffed. “Duh!”

He shook his head, ducking down to press his lips to your cheek, before laying his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m okay right now.”

“Are you?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, arms wrapping around you. “Because I have you. And you make me happy, honey.”

You hugged him back, face pressing into his neck. You were glad you made him happy. And as long as you made him happy, you’d keep this relationship the way it was. Even if that meant you’d never be his best girl. “You make me happy too, bubs.”

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

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​

[spiderlilyserendipity]

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him. 

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him. 

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow. 

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes. 

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy. 

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone. 

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one. 

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room. 

“Green.” 

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

���I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner. 

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true. 

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.” 

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes. 

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass. 

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes. 

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.” 

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him. 

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers. 

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?” 

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply. 

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot. 

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back. 

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does. 

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself. 

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow. 

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

[boowanie]

pairing: minghao x reader

genre: fluff and slight angst

wc: 2.4k

“strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you”

eri’s note: i always somehow manage to come up with scenario ideas during stressful times 🙃 i hope you beans enjoy it, let me know about your thoughts on this piece! 💘

minghao didn’t like the way his art history seatmate smelt of cigarettes and some sort of perfume he was still trying to distinguish despite having sat next to you in the cold lecture hall for the entire fall semester. he also disliked the way you constantly chewed gum to mask your cigarette scent breath when all he could hear were chewing sounds that irritated him to the core. and he hated the way you managed to score the highest grade every exam mr. kwon made his class take after a finished topic.

“and that’s all for today folks, make sure to read the lecture notes i released this morning!”

finally, he thought. minghao gathered his laptop and phone which he shoved into his canvas bag. he eyed the way you slowly picked up your blank notebook and your single pen, and he couldn’t help but sigh aloud. “come on, some of us are trying to get to our next class yn,” you heard him say through clenched teeth.

you chuckled as you pocketed your pen in your jean jacket, “oh shut up hao, your next class is right in front of his lecture hall.” minghao tried to fight the tint of red spreading across his cheeks when you twirled around to blow him a kiss.

“see you around xu minghao.”

lastly, minghao hated the way you made his heart beat faster at that very moment.

—

“oh come on cheollie, give me some slack! please,” you begged with your eyes from across the till. seungcheol didn’t know why he always succumbed to your pleadings when he knew it was wrong to lie to your manager that you arrived on time for your afternoon shift. seungcheol sighed and threw his apron at you.

“you owe me,” he ruffled your hair and stepped out of the coffee shop to catch his 4pm lecture that was about to begin in less that 15 minutes. you closed your eyes once you saw cheol’s figure disappear out of your sight. you felt like shit for making him cover for you again but with the pressure of taking care of everything at home, you had no choice but to beg for him to lie again.

the bell that was situated on top of door chimed when a customer entered, making you open your eyes and smile as much as you could to greet the incoming customer. and to your surprise, your eyes landed on xu minghao. he didn’t seem like he was in the mood for your antics so you greeted him like you would if it were any other customer.

“hi, what can i get for you?”

minghao was ready for your never ending sarcasm and the whiff of cigarettes from your clothes but he was surprised when you greeted him like a normal customer and the smell of strawberries coming from you which nearly had his mouth watering in hunger. he held eye contact as he detailed out his matcha order and when he handed you his card for the payment.

“you can just wait over there,” you smiled, again.

minghao leaned against a nearby wall as he watched you swiftly work your way through the coffee machine and some other stuff he couldn’t recognise. he was so lost in his own thoughts about you that he didn’t recognise his own name leaving your lips.

“minghao,” you repeated and jiggled his order softly in your hands. he snapped out of his thoughts and rushed over to grab his order.

“thanks yn.”

“wait,” you yelled out right before he grabbed the door to exit the coffee shop, “here, i think i heard your stomach growl during our class earlier on,” you jogged over and handed him a cookie before gently shoving him out into the cold street. he turned around and watched as you retreated back to your place behind the counter.

minghao really hated the way his heart skipped a few beats at your kind gesture.

—

he saw you again the following day. you rushed out of your car and jogged your way towards the entrance of the arts building, lugging your art supplies in your hands. minghao wanted to help you when he saw you struggle to open the door but jisoo’s voice snapped him out of his mind when she asked him about his morning.

“just fine,” he replied nonchalantly, picking at his food again. mingyu and jisoo shared a look before they scooted closer to minghao’s body. mingyu swallowed his fries and jisoo leaned her head against her palm to look at minghao.

“so..what’s bothering you picasso?”

minghao rolled his eyes at the mention of his nickname that jisoo insisted on calling him when they went to his first exhibit for his painting class. he mumbled out a faint “nothing” before proceeding to separate a fry from the melted cheese.

“i can smell the bullshit coming from your mouth,” jisoo pretended to sniff like a dog with mingyu following suit which caused minghao to drop his fork on the table and stand up from where he was sitting.

“you guys are the weirdest you know?” jisoo and mingyu nodded at the same time. minghao grabbed his canvas bag and bid his two bestfriends goodbye, heading towards his dorm building to get some much needed rest.

“see you later, lover boy,” mingyu called out.

he stumbled over his two feet at mingyu’s words and he realised, at that very moment, he was very whipped for you, your cigarettes and strawberries.

—

“you need to let loose kid, i’d hate to see you overwork yourself for the nth time this week,” seungcheol popped another strawberry into your mouth as you rinsed the soap off the utensils with lukewarm water. you turned the tap off once you washed the last mug and dried your hands with your apron.

“get off the counter choi,” you nudged his leg with your elbow. if your manager saw him and you chattering away instead of cleaning the coffee shop so you guys could close up quickly, she would lecture you both non stop about professionalism.

“oh come on yn, just one night? i’ll even introduce you to my friends so you won’t be lonely if i ever get whisked away by jeonghan. please please please-”

“say please one more time and i’ll make sure to tell jeonghan about every embarrassing story i know about you,” you threatened with a dried spoon. seungcheol’s eyes widened and he raised both his hands in defeat.

“you wouldn’t,” he huffed.

“try me sweetheart,” you blew a kiss in his direction, an act that had minghao pausing in his tracks. he didn’t mean to take the longer route back to his dorm which happened to be 10 minutes away from where you worked. he watched the way seungcheol threw his head back and closed his eyes in laughter. he liked the way your eyes twinkled when you giggled at your friend.

he turned around once he caught himself smiling at the scene. when he was far away from the coffee shop, minghao realised that he liked the way you smiled which seemed to reach your eyes.

—

“hao, can you proofread an essay for me?” you asked during a cold winter morning when the only people in the lecture hall were you, him and seokmin who was in deep sleep two rows away from you both.

he stared at you then at your hand that held the essay you wanted him to read. he nodded in silence and grabbed the pages from your hands, not without accidently touching the tips of your fingertips which had minghao blushing slightly at the contact.

you leaned your head against the table and carefully studied minghao’s features as he read your essay, word for word. you realised how adorable minghao looked with his glasses (that had no lens) framing his beautiful face. after he flipped the second page over, you noticed his glasses slowly sliding down his nose and without thinking, you slid them up so that they didn’t continue to fall from his face.

minghao stopped reading to look down at you and saw the way your eyes widened at your own actions. “‘m sorry,” you whispered, tucking your hand under your head. minghao gave you a soft smile and continued reading your essay.

you bit your lower lip when minghao flipped another page over, realising how your heart was beating faster than normal.

—

finals rushed in and you barely had the energy to complete all of them on top of working gruelling hours at the coffee shop. but you were glad seungcheol was generous enough to cover your shifts when you were neck deep with extra assignments and finals that seemed to stretch on forever.

thankfully, after you completed your last final, it happened to land on the day seungcheol was bringing you to an svt party. you still had yet to figure out what svt stood for but for once in your life, you were ready to let loose, just a tiny little bit.

you wore something you were comfortable in knowing you might have to walk home in the cold when you deemed yourself tipsy enough. seungcheol offered to ask wonwoo to drive you home but you declined since you didn’t have a clue who wonwoo was.

once you entered the frat house, bodies instantly crowded around you and seungcheol but you were grateful for his hand that enveloped yours in a protective manner. he pulled you closer into him until you managed to weave through the crowd and into the kitchen where his group of friends were playing some drinking game.

a chorus of seungcheol’s filled the room and a tipsy jeonghan appeared from the counter.

“cheollie,” he gushed, jogging towards him with his arms wide open. jeonghan gave him a bone crushing hug while you stood beside them in an awkward stance. you felt like you were being watched like a hawk by seungcheol’s friends but he quickly dismissed their gazes with a wave.

“this is yn, everyone,” seungcheol patted your back while everyone greeted you with gentle smiles, one of them even pulled you into a side hug. he was tall, and although his height kind of intimidated you, his grin removed any ounce of doubt in you.

“i’m mingyu but you can call me gyu if you’d like, whichever suits you.” from there on, you were passed around in hugs, some awkward and some comforting. as the night progressed, you felt your nerves settle once you got to know seungcheol’s group of friends. they were extremely loud but their laughters made you chuckle along with them despite not knowing what was making them laugh sometimes.

after your nth shot with mingyu and seungkwan, your legs felt like jello and you were beginning to sway a little bit. the house seemed to get louder and hotter as a rush of students continued to arrive during the night. you made a beeline towards the backyard where only a few students stood around in small groups, drinking and conversing about their finals.

you spotted an empty chair beside a guy who had his head firmly squished between his knees with a few beer  bottles scattered around him. you made your way towards the empty chair, scooting it over a little further away from the guy as to not disturb his sleep.

—

the smell of smoke filled minghao’s nostrils as he tried his best to keep himself from puking out the contents of his stomach. admittedly, he knew he drank a little too much but in his defence, he was stressed about everything. he was stressed from the truck load of essays he had to do, the paintings he had to submit and lastly, a certain someone who smelt like a mixture of strawberries and cigarettes that seemed to be crowding his thoughts lately.

“minghao?” a voice came from his side when he raised his head to the right.

“yn?” he replied, opening one of his eyes to find you blowing out smoke to the side to avoid it from hitting his face. minghao watched you put out your cigarette on a nearby ashtray that was placed on the grass.

“fancy seeing you hear xu minghao,” you greeted, popping a mint in your mouth. he blinked at you, letting a wave of silence fill the air. he stretched out his hand towards you, which you stared at for awhile until he urged you to take it. he sat closer towards you, leaning his head on the arm of the chair you were sitting on as he closed his eyes, basking in the comforting silence surrounding you both.

“can i ask you something?” minghao broke the silence with a question that was either going to turn everything awkward or not.

“can i kiss you?”

you gasped lightly at his daring question, your heartbeat racing quickly in your chest. you’ve always thought minghao disliked you. he always seemed to wrinkle his nose whenever you sat near him and you knew it was because of the way your clothes smelt like smoke which was the reason why you began to wear perfume but you noticed that he didn’t appreciate the added smell to your clothes. you opted with chewing gum on a daily basis but that didn’t work out when he nudged you with his elbow, asking if you could chew with your mouth closed.

“y-you want to what?”

“nevermind. sorry i asked,” he retracted his hand away from yours as he began to gather the bottles of beer he abandoned on the ground. he felt a hand tug on his shirt, “but i thought you didn’t like me...even as your classmate,” a quiet voice asked.

his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he heard you utter those words. he shook his head immediately, kneeling down so that he was perfectly situated between your parted legs. he cradled your head in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“who said?”

“n-no one, i just noticed the way you wrinkle your nose everytime i sit beside you so i figured you didn’t like me because-”

you stopped mid sentence as he leaned closer towards your face, scanning your eyes for any trace if discomfort. you nodded, letting your words die on your tongue. he pressed his soft lips against your own. the kiss was gentle but passionate just like him. he pulled away when you placed a hand against his chest.

“strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you,” he sang in a teasing tone.

“HAO YOU DID NOT JUST-”

he pecked your lips quickly and ran towards the sliding doors, giggling like a school child.

[zeldasayer]

I transcribed and translated Pedro’s interview from GQ Germany for all of us. I tried translating as good as possible but bear with me, English is not my mother tongue. By @sixties-loser

Pedro Pascal, the star from “Game of Thrones”, “Wonder Woman” and “The Mandalorian” talks about becoming an adult, film, fashion, corona – and a painful surgery in the exclusive GQ interview.

It seems almost eerie how empty the streets of LA are in the sunshine. Meanwhile a new normality seems to be coming to Europe, most people in L.A. are still cutting their own hair. Many have not seen their friends for half a year. The pandemic is out of control. The reaction towards it too. Inviting someone into their garden for a “distance drink” can cause the same distress as suggesting to switch spouses.

Therefore, it was particularly surprising that Pedro Pascal immediately accepted. He accepted the drink, not to switch spouses. He is one of the rising stars and newcomers this year – if it wasn’t for corona sending the whole film industry into a forced vacation, there would most likely not have been time for said drink. After having his skull crushed in “Game of Thrones” followed the lead role as a DEA agent hunting Pablo Escobar in “Narcos” in 2015 and now he is stepping towards big Hollywood films. From the 1st of October onwards the Chilean-born actor will be starring in the blockbuster “Wonder Woman 1984”. Moreover, the second season of the “Star Wars”-series “The Mandalorian” on Disney+ starring him as the lead is going to air in October this year – but he will be underneath a helmet. Well, we all are under a helmet in 2020 in one way or another. We want to meet the man who a few years ago still worked as a waiter in New York, whose parents were political refugees who found asylum in Denmark and settled in Texas and whose son one day signed up for a theatre group in High School.

Then, the cancellation! While we were in the middle of fixing up the house and the garden for the drink with Pedro and organizing the fashion shoot, which was not easy considering the safety measures in L.A., his management called with an unfortunate message: Pedro – no, not sick with corona – had to get emergency surgery because of a damaged tooth and was lying in bed with a swollen face that was hindering him from speaking and taking pictures. The sun is shining onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later he nonetheless arrived at our front door without a swollen face but still with threads in his mouth. He was not chauffeured by a limo-service but he came with his own car – he even picked up his make-up artist. He is helping her carrying all of her utensils into the house and declares: “I’ve got time today!”. What a celebrity! It seemed like we did not want to ask him how he made it to the A-List of Hollywood but he wanted to ask us how we made it to the A-list. Pedro Pascal! Yes, what kind of a celebrity?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for messing with your plans. The surgery was an emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling wasn’t the product of a secret visit to the plastic-surgeon. Apparently, they are drowning in work because of the quarantine in Hollywood.

PP: I have to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I was rushing to the hospital with a fractured tooth and the worst pain in my entire life – a hospital in which treats people with severe cases of corona. I was unable to reach any dentist! Right in front of the parking lot a specialist called me back. The pain was hell despite the ten injections I got. The doctor said I was not an exception because a lot of people are grinding their teeth because of all the stress.

GQ: What are you most afraid of at the moment?

PP: How the government is handling the pandemic is worrying me more than the virus itself. This shortage of intelligent management of the crisis is a moral shame. The leadership crisis in this country is turning us all into orphans – destitute and abandoned.

GQ: How did you spend your time over the last few months?

PP: I spent it with frozen pizza and sweatpants in Venice Beach. I live in a rear house that’s in a family’s garden. Actually, there are a lot of good takeout places nearby but for some reason I just love pepperoni pizza from the supermarket.

GQ: That does not really sound like movie star-lifestyle. What does it feel like being suddenly stopped from top speed to zero?

PP: Regarding what is going on around the world one should hold back one’s own mental turmoil. I would be lying if I was saying that I am not disappointed. The whole team put a lot of heart and work into the production of “Wonder Woman 1984”. We had a lot of fun on set. I wished to travel around the world and introduce the film with the same lively energy.

GQ: You come from a politically engaged, socialist family that fled from the Pinochet-regime in Chile. What do you remember from that time?

PP: My sister and I were born in Chile but I was only nine months old when we first found asylum in Denmark. From there we quickly came to San Antonio in Texas where my dad started working as a doctor at the university clinic.

GQ: Texas is not known as a socialist utopia. How did you assimilate?

PP: San Antonio is not a Cowboy-town but very diverse with big Asian, black and Latino communities. I remember it as a romantic place, culturally open. The culture shock only came as we later moved to range county in California. There the atmosphere was suddenly white, preppy and conservative.

GQ: How were you received in California?

PP: I’m still ashamed of the fact that I did not correct my classmates when they kept on calling me Peter. I am Pedro. Even if I didn’t grow up in Chile the country and the language are still a part of me. I was very unhappy in that environment. However, I was fortunately able to go to another school close to Long Beach where I felt more comfortable. Through the theater group at that school I found my way.

GQ: Were you able to visit Chile as a child?

PP: Yes, when my parents made it to the list of expatriates that were able to travel to Chile without consequences. First, there was a big family reunion and then my sister and I stayed there for a few months with relatives while my parents went back to Texas. They likely needed a break from us. They got us when they were very young, had a buzzing social life and my mother was obtaining a PhD in psychology.

GQ: Was your mother a typical young psychologist who wanted to apply her theoretical knowledge at home?

PP: You mean, whether I was her guinea pig? For sure! I remember strange tests and sittings that were disguised as games where someone was watching me react to different toys. I cannot have been older than six but I was already aware of the dynamic. My favourite thing was being questioned about my dreams. That was a wonderful opportunity to come up with fantastic stories.

GQ: Was that your first performance?

PP: Of course! My mother worried about my strong imagination because I was living in my own fantasy world rather than reality. I hated going to school. I was always categorized as the troublemaker. At one point, the topics at school became more interesting and my grades also went up. There are so many kids that are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be abhorrent. Why is it so accepted to be bored in class when there are so many stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

GQ: Considering al that has happened this summer around the world: Do you believe that we can seriously demand social change now?

PP: I Hope so. After lockdown, the first time I went out was to protest for “Black Lives Matter” on the streets. The energy was peaceful and hopeful until the police provoked severe conflicts. Nevertheless, we cannot run from problems like we used to this time and we cannot distract ourselves from them either. It seems like the pressure of the pandemic led to a new clarity: We cannot go on this way.

GQ: The “Wonder Woman 1984” Trailer revives the optimism of the 1980’s. From today’s point of view, it seems almost nostalgic.

PP: That’s right. You really are happy for two hours. The director Patty Jenkins created a film full of positive messages. We shot in Washington D.C., then in London and Spain – this sounds like I am talking of a past time.

GQ: Do you miss traveling?

PP: I’m just now realizing the privilege of just packing up one’s stuff and being able to fly anywhere. An American passport used to guarantee unlimited travel. And that’s why it the small radius of our lives is actually unimaginable. Over the last years I often retreated for a break after shootings because I was constantly on the move and overstimulated. My friends were already complaining I had become too comfortable. We all took social contact for granted and are only realizing now how dependent we actually are on human contact. Over the last weeks I often longingly thought about all the parties and dinner invitations I declined.

GQ: In L.A. people spend more time at home or nature than in other metropolises that are more geared towards public life. Could this city become your second home after New York?

PP: My Real Home are my friends. I have been a nomad since I was little and I do not have a place where I have put down roots. Up until not long ago my physical home was a place in between departure and arrival. Therefore, it was something I did not want to complicate through the accumulation of stuff. On the contrary: Without having read Marie Kondo’s book I have freed myself from excess baggage over the last few years and I lived relatively minimally.

GQ: Is there nothing you collect or something you just can’t throw away?

PP: Books! I even still have the literature I read when I was a teenager and when I was in college. Recently, I stumbled upon a box full of old theatre manuscripts and materials from my time at the New York University. I also cannot part from art easily, just like I cannot part from lamps or old photos. On the other hand, I can easily get rid of furniture and clothes.

GQ: Do you remember roles that were really only completely defined through the costume?

PP: Yes, I am particularly thinking about “Game of Thrones”. At that time I understood for the first time what it meant to be supported by a look. This is thanks to the costume designer Michele Clapton. She created very feminine robes and brocade coats for my character that nevertheless looked masculine when worn and I felt very sexy in them. Of course, Lindy Hemmings power-suits and Jan Swells bleached hairstyle for the tycoon-villain in “Wonder Woman 1984” were very important as well. At first I did not really see myself in the role because the cuts and colors of the 80s do not really fit my body. I’m more the 70s type.

GQ: Do you incorporate those inspirations into your personal wardrobe?

PP: In my free time I choose comfort over a cool look these days. Sometimes I miss the times when I expressed myself through a certain style. It is hard to imagine that I went to Raves as a teenage in the 90s; I was a real club kid with ridiculous outfits: overalls, balloon pants, football shirts and a top hat, like in Dr.Seuss’s “Cat in a Hat”. Later in New York I was hanging out with a group of people that felt it was very important to have a certain style. The fact that I am basically only wearing sweatpants everyday is actually tragic.

GQ: whoever plays roles in comic book adaptations becomes a bodybuilder and eats ten chicken breasts a day. You don’t?

PP:My body would not agree with that. It is hard enough to stay in shape normally. When you’re in your mid-forties you have to live with a lot more discipline. Up until before my tooth-incident I worked out with a trainer in my garden multiple times a week to keep the quarantine body in check.

GQ: Apart from the personal trainer, are you in a steady relationship?

PP: I am not ready for that yet. Maybe at some point I will be but until then I’ll let it be. I can’t even offer you absurd corona dating stories.

GQ: What would annoy you the most if you were your own roommate?

PP: I can be quite controlling. I have to conjure all my humanity to prevent myself from going through my entire film collection. When I don’t want something I cannot keep it to myself or be passive-aggressive, I always have to take it to the frontlines. Other than that, I tend to have tunnel view: when I am not feeling well I cannot imagine to ever feel better again. I have trouble relativizing my emotions or to wave off problems. Method-acting would really not be for me. This is why I try to only work on projects that feel good, where there is mutual support and encouragement.

GQ: When we were trying on the clothes earlier you spoke of a lack of self-confidence. How does that get along with a career like yours?

PP: Isn’t it interesting how these characteristics and circumstamces relate? Self-worth comes from inside but it is also influenced by what society values because we often internalise the public gaze. I have lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and made a living by working as a waiter until my mid-thirties because the theatre and film jobs I got did not pay the bills. There were so many times I was almost there. The disappointment of having missed the perfect role or opportunity by a hair’s width can be crushing. When should you give up and what is plan B? That is a question that is not only on many actors‘s minds but also on many others minds who struggle for a living – no matter how much potential they have or how close they seem to be to the top. We are seeing now how our narrow definition of success destroys society. At the same time, we are realizing that where we come from and the color of our skin still decide whether we can exist with dignity.

GQ: What are the positive aspects of a relatively late success as leading-man?

PP: I feel like I can decide over my own life without the pressure of having to accept projects or to have to present a certain identity on social media. This is for sure also because I am a man. Regardless of age, Women have to try harder to stand out.

GQ: Life always consists of risk management – now more than usual. For what would you risk losing something?

PP: Generally, when you never risk something you might never get ahead. That is for friendship, love, work and creativity. I have to be ready to take risks for the things that really matter to you.

[sgwrscrsh]

ix. double mother's day

the scene in the kitchen is utterly adorable. 

the tall man standing at the counter covered in ingredients and utensils was no foreign sight, but the two stools on either side of him were, just like his two little mini-me’s standing on top of them.

“ya see this part between yer finger ‘n yer thumb? after you scoop a little bit of the filling into the rice, roll it into a ball like this and then squeeze very gently into this part of yer hand to shape it.” the man explains to his sons as they try to imitate his practiced movements with clumsy hands.

the two boys pout at their messy products when their eyes fall on their dad’s perfect onigiri, one more vocal about their disappointment than the other.

“papa! s’not pretty like yours!” takumi cries while his brother nodded in agreement, big round eyes shining with unshed tears.

“wan’ mine pretty like mama,” warbles ryo, bottom lip wobbling as he holds in the sobs threatening to rack his tiny body.

osamu is quick to wipe his hands off on the kitchen towel slung over his shoulder and settle his warm palms on their backs. “hey, hey, shhh, s’okay.” squatting down to their level, he presses a chaste kiss to each of their cheeks, still plump with baby fat. “there’s plenty more for ya to practice, but i think these’re pretty ‘cause you made them. i bet your mama’s gonna love ‘em more than mine anyhow.”

sighing internally, the father is relieved to see two pairs of eyes blinking up at him, shining with hope and excitement instead of tears and disappointment. 

“promise, papa?” the younger twin pipes up, echoed soon after by a softer, watery “promise?”

large frame still crouched down beside them, osamu presents his two little fingers for his two little chefs, “pinky promise.”

after attempting to wrap their much smaller fingers around their father’s, the younger miyas settle for taking their respective fingers into a firm handshake while osamu tries his damnedest to not laugh at how cute his sons are with their brows furrowed solemnly.

“okay, okay, let’s finish the onigiri and then work on mama’s cakes, yea?”

“yea! gon’ make pretty onigiwi for mama!” 

“wanna mix, please, papa?” 

“sure, ryo. you can mix the cake batter.”

“me too! me too! wanna mix!”

a gentle smile tugs at the corner of osamu’s lips, knowing that he’d have to finish the rice balls on his own once he got his boys set up and situated. 

“good thing i have two whisks then,” he says to himself, bustling about, opening and shutting cabinets, and gathering the ingredients to make two mini sponge cakes. 

as ryo and takumi watch their father measure and scoop out of various containers and cartons, they bounce on the balls of their feet, eager to receive the cups he hands to them and dump them into the identical bowls on the counter in front of them.

by the time the cakes were cooled, decorated and left in the fridge, a few more onigiri were sitting in the container next to the two, smaller, messier ones, and two little miyas were snoozing away on their snoring papa’s broad chest as they wait for you to come home.

“okay, kiddos,” atsumu chimes as he plops a storage container full of art supplies on the living room floor. “what’re ya gonna make for mommy?”

“wanna give mommy flower!” his princess cheers. “fitting,” he thinks with a smile. “should be easy enough.”

“no flower! dinosaur for mommy! rawr!” accompanied by the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the hardwood, the input signals ryuki’s disinterest in the stuffed animals he was playing with, eager to make a gift for his mother. 

however, this makes hana pout and stomp her feet, albeit adorably. “dinosaur not pretty! flower pretty like mommy!”

quick to deescalate the situation, atsumu pulls out a few sheets of paper and two sets of crayons. “princess, ya can make mommy the prettiest flower she’s ever seen, but if yer brother wants to make a dinosaur, that’s okay, too! mommy likes flowers and dinosaurs, mkay?” getting a couple of head nods and quiet “okay, daddy”s, he gives them a bright smile and the supplies he drew from the storage container. “now how about you both draw what you wanna make so i can help you once you’re done, yea?” 

excited that they both get to make what they want, the two tots get to work, diligently turning colorful scribbles into the likenesses of… a rose? and a t-rex? atsumu is impressed by his kids’ artistic abilities as he grabs a pair of scissors, sheets of felt, cardboard, and bottles of glue from the box beside him. “definitely didn’t get those genes from me.”

“daddy, daddy! m’done!” hana exclaims triumphantly, holding up her drawing proudly. “see flower?” 

“i do see, princess. it’s very pretty,” the father nods solemnly. “ya want the same color for the petals?” her head bobs vigorously, making atsumu chuckle as he singles out a sheet of white felt. “‘kay, m’gonna cut ‘em out for ya to glue ‘em on. can ya squeeze the glue on the cardboard for me first?” 

as hana sets out to do just that, ryuki pops up with his creation in hand, “done now, daddy!” 

“good job, my handsome boy! such a cool dinosaur,” atsumu gently ruffles his son’s hair, large hand dwarfing his small head. “do what your sister’s doing and i’ll cut out your pieces, too.” 

a couple moments pass in silence as the three miyas accomplish their individual tasks. once the glue is drizzled over the cardboard, atsumu lets his kids pick out a sheet of felt in whatever color their little hearts desired. with pink felt laid upon hana’s board and blue on ryuki’s, the father then instructs them to put dabs of glue where each piece of felt would go. 

“here ya go, this one goes right here like this,” he says, guiding their hands to orient the felt scraps in their respective places. “and then ya put a little glue here an’ then this piece goes there.” soon enough, despite the scraps of felt littering the floor and sticky hands getting glue everywhere, twin gazes gleam proudly as they take in their finished products. 

“let’s go wash our hands,” atsumu tells them, unfolding himself from where he sat between his children and stretching his arms high above his head. “and then it’s snack time. how’s that sound?”

“yay! snacks!” the smaller miyas hoot, little legs carrying them to the bathroom as fast as they could. tsumu cleans up the mess left behind and hides their crafts on the top shelf of the hallway closet to dry before sauntering into the kitchen with a firm resolve to recreate the onigiri his brother taught him without burning the rice or forgetting to season anything this time.

viii. || mlist || x.

☁️a/n☁️ more blurbs that aren’t rly blurbs. sometimes i wonder if you guys get tired of the burnt rice bit. also i lied, i don’t have the chapters queued up like i wanted to. ig i’m doing em week by week but hnnnnngh exams. anyhow, i love thinking abt these six foot men doing domestic things with tiny lil babies. makes brain go brrrr

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs @sachirou-senpai-taglist @honey-makki @kenmaki @inarizakied @aruhappy @goodpop9 @tris-does-stuff @its-the-aerieljeane @callmekda @navymacaroons @tinystarks @luckypartyranchmug @chibichab @bjbex @heauxzenji @anejuuuuoy @semig0th (again, check ur settings pls bb)

taglist is open! fill out this form to be added!

[magicianapprenticelyra]

Day 2: Touch(y)

@sweetalnazar

Featuring Lyra Nguyen and Asra Alnazar; Modern AU

(Close Friendship, Pre-Romantic Relationship)

“How long do you think she’s going to be angry at me?”

“Asra, she has no right to be this pissed at you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll probably know for sure in about . . . two hours?”

Asra winces at that assessment, barely able to prevent himself from tripping over a tree root in the sidewalk as Lyra continues ahead.

“It’s not your fault!” she calls back, slowing down enough for him to finally catch up.

“Wh-when you said that your mom can blow things out of pr-proportion—” Asra chokes on air, coughing. Lyra reaches into her drawstring bag, handing her friend a plastic water bottle. Asra takes it with a quiet thanks, waterfalling the contents into his mouth.

“This is actually mild compared to the other bullshit she’s pulled.”

Asra grimaces, struggling to keep up with her when she resumes power walking. This situation is flipped from when Asra wanted to go go go somewhere; he didn’t like this one bit.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to stuff my face with food,” Lyra replies simply. “There’s a small Vietnamese place that cooks the best popcorn chicken with their rice down this way—” Lyra walks on, rattling on with commentary about a third of the menu before she stops and turns to face Asra again, giving him a small smile. “I’ll even pay for whatever you want to get, too. Cap is $200 altogether, for the both of us. Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah . . . no, no problem . . .” Asra's breathless. He gets properly upright once at the door of the establishment. When Lyra opens the door, the bell above clangs into the metal frame it hangs off of.

The smell of good food welcomes them both.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Later . . .

Asra, having the end of his chopsticks hovering close to his lips, watches Lyra consume another bowl of fried rice and a side of dumplings. The aisle-side of the booth’s table has a wall consisting of plates, bowls, and various utensils. Asra looks to the busser, sympathetic when they stop by the table for the third time to clear it. He places his chopsticks horizontally over his bowl of phở, exhaling softly.

“Ly?”

“Mmph?” Lyra stops eating, one cheek full of food as she looks at him. Seeing his expression, she carefully turns to the side.

Shielding the lower half of her face with her hand, Lyra quickly chews what’s in her mouth. With each swallow, she chases it with her tea, wincing at the heat. Once she’s done, Lyra quickly grabs tissues from the napkin dispenser against the wall. With one hand, she works on getting rid of what’s leftover on her mouth and lips. Her other hand rubs the area under her hyoid bone.

“Ow . . .” she rasps.

“You’re not Faust!” Asra teases, but there’s still that edge of worry in his voice.

Lyra glances at him, her dark brown eyes unexpectedly meeting Asra’s own. Her eyes widen, taking in the brown curls framing his face. She quickly averts her gaze to the table itself. Her eyes bore into the resin tabletop.

“Do you think you’re done?”

She nods.

“Okay. You still want to pay for all of the stuff we ate?”

She nods again, taking the table’s number stand with her as she goes to the register a ways behind Asra. He finishes up his bowl of phở and leaves a hefty tip on the table when the busser comes. He thanks them, getting to his feet when Lyra returns soon after.

After they box their leftovers, the pair walk single-file out the door. Outside, they maneuvered themselves to walk side by side.

“Where do you want to go next?”

“I don’t wanna go back to my uncle’s yet,” Lyra murmurs.

“I know . . .”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Lyra is much, much slower with a stomach full of food. Asra's relieved, especially since he has an inkling he might have pulled something while tripping over the tree root earlier.

"How are you feeling?" Asra asks, looking over at her.

"Not that good." Lyra hugs herself around her abdomen, looking a little green.

Asra winces. He looks around them, immediately spotting a bodega up ahead.

“Ginger ale or—?"

"The lemon-lime one this time, please," Lyra rasps, swallowing thickly.

He's off like a shot, making Lyra laugh when he zips past the front door. In a few moments he zooms back to her, quickly wiping the top of the can with his shirttail before passing it to her.

Lyra gently taps the top of the can with a fingernail. She holds it away from herself, tugging on the pull-tab before shuffling to the side of the sidewalk.

The both of them stand under the awning of a boarded up building, graffitied with all sorts of art.

"No 'splosion," Lyra exhales in relief. She carefully sips on the drink, lightly coughing.

Asra nods, barely able to hide his concern as she closes her eyes.

Lyra was prone to eating her feelings. That wasn't the surprising thing. Asra has seen her stress-eat during final exams back in high school, but this was something else.

Bzz. Bzz.

"That's you," Lyra murmurs.

You left your phone back at your uncle's? Asra didn't voice these thoughts, instead checking on the messages he's received. As expected, they were all from Lyra's family.

🏒Neha: Where are you guys?

💻 Walt: Still a bit dicey back here. I think you kids can come back around 4 or 5 o'clock though.

🍰 James: Bao and Mai are still yelling at each other. Going to be a while yet. Everything ok?

Asra answers them all to the best of his ability, immediately pocketing his phone.

It's only just after 2 p.m.

"What they say?"

"Your uncle and mom are still discussing things—" He blinks in surprise when Lyra snorts derisively, shaking her head.

"Well, what do you want me to say about it?" Asra shifts his weight from one foot to another, assessing her body language.

"I know they're at each other's throats still. You don't need to protect me from that." Lyra gives him a rueful smile.

"I'm sorry,” Asra murmurs softly.

Lyra gently nudges her elbow to his upper arm. "It wasn't my fault, much less yours."

"She got really angry today."

"We were just snuggled together—" Lyra stops to scoot back from the sidewalk, allowing a parent and their gaggle of children to pass before continuing,

"—we fell asleep watching t.v. in the living room. Mom didn't have to surprise us with a visit."

"It's just her up here, right?"

"Mhm. Vinh is back with Theodore. I'm just happy my mom didn't hit you with anything more substantial."

Asra laughs. "The pillow was within reach—better than the lamp on the side table.”

"I would feel terrible if she did."

"She didn't though."

Lyra nods, exhaling softly. "I'm sorry I freaked you out earlier. I must've looked like a Sarlacc pit."

"You're nowhere near that" Asra nudges his upper arm against hers. "I don't blame you for what happened."

"I still say she's blowing it out of proportion!"

“Perhaps, but she wanted to protect you.”

“She assumes the worst in everyone around her, Asra. Theodore is the only one that’s not subject to it anymore. It’s really not healthy. Aside from my father being a major part of why I left, why do you think I wanted so badly to stay with my uncle?”

“Mmm . . .” Asra hums, exhaling.

He scoots back over to her, positioning himself so that shoulder to shoulder, they’re touching. In turn, Lyra leans over just enough to have the side of her head rest upon his shoulder.

They still had a few hours to kill. There weren’t any NO LOITERING signs nearby, either. For the time being, this was a perfect spot to rest in.

A/N: I took it in a bit of a different direction. (^w^)

Context for who is who in here—

Lyra Nguyen is related to her uncle Bảo through her mother, Mai. Theodore is Mai’s current significant other, but not married to her (yet). Vinh is Lyra’s biological younger sister.

Walterine Aster is—from the canon Arcana timeline—the aunt Ly inherits The Shop from in Center City. In modern AU, she’s a single mother who has a daughter named Neha. She’s known James and Bảo for years, having met the former back in their college days.

James Cionaodh is Bảo’s partner (married). These two live with Walterine and Neha because living where they are—modern equivalent to San Francisco—is expensive as all hell.

Neha is roughly the same age as Vinh in this modern AU. She is technically Ly’s cousin by marriage from the canon Arcana timeline (long story), but in that timeline they’re essentially sisters, at least Pre-Red Plague and post Upright/a few Reversed timelines.

I’ll probably need to make a separate post for this but, thank you so much for reading!

UPDATE JUNE 12TH, 2021: [NEXT]

[yeah-klave]

Love Batter

Summary: Klaus comes home early and catches Dave up to something in the kitchen.

Genre: Pure, tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: This is set in a Dave Didn’t Die AU. He and Klaus made it back to 2019 (somehow) where they’re now living happily ever after.

Word length: 2.6k

Warning: Some light innuendo.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

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

“Oh, umm.”

Klaus closed the front door quietly and stood for a second in the hallway, head on one side, listening.

“Umm… yes.”

Klaus frowned. He heard the smacking of lips, shortly followed by another low groan.

“Yes. That’s good. There we go…”

He could hear movement in the direction of the kitchen. Suddenly, the tone of the noise changed.

“Oh, no! Don’t do that! Oh dear. Oh, that’s not good.”

There was a clatter and then muffled grumbling.

“Oh, no. Why can’t you just…?” There was another clatter. “Oh, oops, oh no! Don’t...”

There was a dull thunk, and Klaus heard Dave say, “owch.”

Klaus dropped his keys in the bowl and walked down the hallway to their kitchen.

He pushed the door open and stopped in the entrance, his eyebrows shooting up.

Dave froze in place. He looked up guiltily, eyes wide, a finger in his mouth and his other hand clutching his foot. He was also wearing a frilly apron.

Dave brought the finger out of his mouth with a wet pop. “I… I… I thought you said you were going to be back late tonight?!” he spluttered.

“I did,” Klaus said bemused.

“But, but…” Still balancing on one foot, Dave waved his free arm wildly. Something gloopy flicked off a finger and landed somewhere near the toaster. “But this isn’t late at all!” he finally said, the tiniest hint of accusation behind the words.

“Allison had to cancel,” Klaus said evenly. “I did text you. But maybe you didn’t notice. I mean, it looks like you’ve been a little busy in here.” He looked around the kitchen, taking in the full scene. “Daaaaavve,” he said finally in a light, sing-song voice, the corner of his mouth curling upwards, a gleeful twinkle in his eyes, “whatcha doin’?”

Dave deflated a little. He let go of his foot and looked glumly at the chaos surrounding him.

“I was,” he started sheepishly, purposefully not catching Klaus’ eye. “I was trying to bake you a cake.”

Klaus’ face lit up even brighter. “Really?!”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded, twisting his face into a rueful grimace. “A surprise cake for your birthday tomorrow. I thought I could make it tonight while you were out and hide it in a cupboard overnight and surprise you in the morning.”

Klaus’ heart clenched and he looked at Dave fondly. “My darling, dearest Dave,” Klaus gently teased, “light of my life, fire of my loins,” he broke off and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Even if Allison hadn’t cancelled, I’d have been back in an hour or so anyway. Did you really think you could finish up and then get our kitchen looking normal again by the time I got back?”

They both looked around. Dirty bowls were strewn across the counters, along with various utensils, eggs shells and empty packets. Cake pans were discarded near the hob, a brown, baked-on crust coating the inside. There was a palette knife on the floor, gloopy icing dripping from the flat blade into a small puddle. Also, a layer of flour and icing sugar seemed to have settled over everything.

“Hmm,” Dave said in a mock solemn voice. “I take your point.”

Klaus laughed.

Dave bent down and picked up a cookery book that was splayed open, upside-down, by his bare feet. Dave’s fingers left sticky marks on the cover as he tried shuffling things around on the counter, looking for somewhere clean to lay it down.

Klaus stepped forwards and took the book from Dave. It was surprisingly heavy in Klaus’ hands. “Did this drop on your foot?” Klaus asked quietly.

“Um, yeah,” Dave reluctantly admitted.

Klaus looked down at the book. His nostrils flared and he suddenly felt an irrational wave of anger wash over him.

“Right,” he said with a hiss, baring his teeth, “well that settles it.” He held the book between a pinched finger and thumb and unceremoniously dropped it in the trash can.

“Klaus!” Dave said shocked.

“It hurt you,” Klaus said simply. “It has no place in our home anymore.”

Dave’s face softened in fond bemusement. Klaus watched his eyebrows crinkle together as he gave an exasperated little shake of his head.

“You know I’m just going to have to go digging though the trash to rescue that now?” His words had no bite.

“Don’t you dare!” Klaus looked scandalised. “It’s dead to me now. Goodbye evil instrument of pain…” He waved his Goodbye hand at the bin, but then looked back up at Dave and grinned.

“You really are something else,” Dave said fondly.

Klaus’ eyes twinkled and he reached out and traced a finger over Dave’s cheek, following a gloopy smear of pink icing.

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but right now, Mr Katz,” he said, “so are you.”

Klaus trailed his eyes down Dave’s body, taking in the floury handprints and unidentifiable smears that covered his clothes. Something pale brown and gloopy was drying in crusty matted clumps in his gloriously mussed curls.

Klaus reached up and tried to pull a bit of the stuff out of Dave’s hair. He raised a questioning eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“Oh, yeah,” Dave said. “I forgot about that.” He glanced up and Klaus followed his gaze to where splattered streaks of cake batter formed a modern art masterpiece on the white paint of their kitchen ceiling.

“How…?” Klaus started.

“I tried to use that mixer Vanya gave us,” Dave explained. “But I guess I didn’t fix the lid on properly.”

Klaus looked around the kitchen again. “What’s that?” he said, pointing at a couple of thin, dense-looking – vaguely cake-shaped – disks, half hidden under an empty bag of flour.

“Oh, that was my first attempt,” Dave grimaced again. “Back when I had high expectations. Apparently there is a difference between plain and self-raising flour.”

“Think the clue’s in the name, babe,” Klaus smiled.

Dave huffed. “I can follow a recipe,” he said indignantly, “but I just forgot about the flour thing.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just wanted to get it right.”

“And did you?” Klaus asked.

“Yes!” Dave nodded vigorously, a little shower of flower falling onto his broad shoulders. But then he paused and pulled a face. “Well,” he clarified, “the cake worked okay… eventually.” He looked over his shoulder and then back to Klaus. “The decorating part, not so much though,” he admitted. He scrunched his nose, contorting his face into an expression of dejected disappointment. Klaus thought he looked positively adorable.

“Can I see?”

“Well, the surprise is ruined now, so might as well,” Dave sighed. He stepped away from the counter, revealing the thing behind him that had previously been shielded by his body.

Klaus looked down. “It’s brilliant,” he said automatically. Then, after a beat, he added gently, “what is it?”

Dave grimaced and scrubbed a hand over his face, but when he brought it down, he was smiling.

“That bad, huh?” he said.

“No,” Klaus corrected himself quickly. “I mean, it looks great! I can see you’ve clearly put a lot of effort into this. I was just wondering…” he paused, “well, it’s very... I was just wondering what the thinking behind it was?”

“I know you never had your own birthday cake,” Dave said slowly. “Because you and your siblings all had the same birthday. I remember you saying Grace used to make one big cake for you all to share. But it’s not like having your own cake, just for you, with your name on it.”

Klaus’ eyes scanned Dave’s face. Dave was determinedly looking at the cake in front of him. Klaus reached over and took hold of his hand – his sticky, messy hand – and squeezed. The corner of Dave’s mouth twitched in a smile and he shook himself slightly.

“So that’s what I tried to do,” Dave carried on, “make you your own cake. Because you deserve a cake of your own, with only your name on it.”

“Is that what’s going on here?” Klaus pointed to an amorphous smear of blue icing that was bleeding into the runny pink icing underneath and then dribbling off the edges and pooling on the plate below.

“Yeah,” Dave sighed. “It was supposed to say Happy Birthday Klaus.”

“Thank you,” Klaus said, squeezing Dave’s hand again. “It’s perfect.”

Dave snorted. “Hardly!” he said. “In hindsight, I think I should have waited for the cake to cool down before trying to ice it. Plus, I think this icing is too runny.”

“No,” Klaus said firmly. “It’s perfect.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Klaus,” he said firmly, “you don’t need to humour me. I know it’s pants. I’ve seen how well your cakes turn out and this – most definitely – is nothing like them.”

Klaus frowned. “Firstly,” he said, “you grew up in the 50s! I hardly think it was part of the curriculum. Secondly, you’ve met my mom! There’s no way she wasn’t going to make sure all her kids could bake a mean sponge cake! And thirdly – now brace yourself, because this is going to be as corny as the corniest corn bread – Grace also taught us that the most important ingredient in any great bake is the love you stir in along the way.” Klaus looked down, ran a finger through the dribbled icing, brought it up to his mouth and then licked it off his finger, maintaining eye contact with Dave the whole time. “And it’s clear that this cake, Dave, is positively overflowing with that. So, on that logic, this is the best cake that’s ever been baked.”

Dave’s eyes got a little glossy and he pulled Klaus into his arms, burying his face into the crook of Klaus’ neck.

“I love you,” Dave said. It sounded thick and muffled.

“That’s because I’m so damn lovable,” Klaus joked, running his fingers through Dave’s hair. “At least, that’s the overwhelming feedback I’ve got so far from all the people in my life. Oh, no, wait…” Klaus trailed off, grinning.

Dave pulled back, his hands resting on Klaus’ hips. “Well, I find it exceedingly easy.”

Klaus smiled. He reached up, wiped another smear of icing from Dave’s cheek with his thumb then leaned forwards and kissed the tip of his nose.

Dave blinked and looked down at himself again, then at the flour and sticky streaks he had transferred to Klaus’ clothes during their hug.

“Oh dear,” he said, trying to pull away “I’m sorry, baby, I’ve messed up your outfit.”

“I don’t care,” Klaus replied, pulling him back fiercely. “Do you hear me? I don’t care.” He rested his hands on Dave’s chest, his fingers playing with the collar of his soft tee. “And for the record,” he added, “I never want to hear anyone calling my special, surprise birthday cake pants ever again. My boyfriend made me that and I love it,” he nuzzled the tips of their noses together. “I love every sticky inch of it.” He kissed the frown lines between Dave’s eyes, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You still talking about the cake?” Dave asked, his thumbs gently stroking over the strip of exposed skin at Klaus’ waist, his mouth curling up in a smile.

“I can’t imagine what you mean!” Klaus’ eyes twinkled.

Dave grinned and caught Klaus’ mouth in a kiss, a sweet press of slightly parted lips.

Klaus let out a sigh and pressed forwards, their lips moving in a lazy slide. They broke apart, resting their foreheads together and took a moment, just holding each other and breathing the same air.

“Well,” Klaus said, his lips brushing Dave’s as he spoke. “I think we both know what we need to do now.”

“Umm,” Dave hummed his agreement. He paused, then added, “I’ll fill the sink.”

“Good idea,” Klaus grinned. “I’ll grab a tea-towel.”

Dave huffed a laugh and pulled back, grinning. Then he turned to start filling the washing-up bowl with hot soapy water.

Klaus reached up and, with practiced ease, twisted his hair into a loose bun on the top of his head, securing it with a black glittery scrunchie from his wrist. He flicked the radio on and the room was filled with the soft sound of something light and boppy. Klaus flashed a smile and started dancing around the room, collecting the dirty bowls and utensils between enthusiastic little shimmies and finally stacking them in a pile next to the sink.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing and chatting – Dave elbow deep in sudsy water and Klaus drying the items and placing them on the draining board – they were the very picture of pure domestic bliss.

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

“And you’re sure I can’t just use the mop?” Klaus squinted at the ceiling.

“Yes, sugarplum, I’m sure,” Dave looked over at him fondly from where he was putting the cutlery back in the drawer. “As is undoubtedly clear from the way I butchered that cake, I’m hardly a domestic goddess. But even I know you shouldn’t mop your ceiling. I’ll pick up some stepladders from the store tomorrow.”

“Or,” Klaus said, “I could just ask Luther to do it. What’s the point of having a giant for a brother if you can’t ask him to clean cake batter from your ceiling every now and again?”

“A completely normal sentence,” Dave said with a grin. Klaus rolled his eyes.

Dave wandered over to the counter and looked down at the cake.

“I’ll just bin this,” he said.

“What?! No!” Klaus said shocked, hopping down from the counter he’d been sitting on and trotting over to Dave. “Don’t throw away my cake!”

Dave suppressed a little smile, looking down at the sticky mess. “Don’t worry, pumpkin, the love-cake speech was very much appreciated. I got the message loud and clear. But you don’t actually have to eat this, you know.”

But when he looked up, Klaus was already holding out two plates and a knife.

“I’m selfish and impatient and can’t wait until tomorrow,” Klaus said.

Dave snorted, but moved aside.

“Make a wish,” Dave said, as Klaus cut two large slices. Klaus turned his face away slightly, smiling to himself. Dave wasn’t entirely sure, but he though he heard Klaus whisper, “No point, I already have him.”

They took their cake and a couple of forks into the living room and settled onto the sofa, their knees touching.

“Ummm,” Klaus hummed, his mouth full. “This is amazing.”

Dave took a careful bite, considering. “I guess it doesn’t taste too bad,” he said.

Klaus sprayed a mouthful of crumbs in his haste to reply, “It tastes so good!”

He swallowed and added with a grin, “One thing I still want to know, though, is why you decided to do all of this while wearing the apron from my sexy maid costume?”

Dave looked at Klaus and deadpanned, “Well, knowing what that costume’s been through, I didn’t think it would matter if I got a little more love batter on it.” Then he winked.

Klaus let out a cackle of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Klaus looked over at Dave slumped next to him. Tired and dishevelled and warm and happy and alive. And his.

“Like I said before,” Klaus declared in the most dignified voice he could, while simultaneously trying to lick icing out of his beard. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dave looked back at Klaus fondly, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth, and replied, simply, “I wouldn’t have my cake any other way either.”

[blissfulalchemist]

Hope you don't mind me sending one of these: Catlina - “you remembered?”

Hello there! I do not mind in the slightest! I'm sorry this took a while, but I have it finished for you! I do hope you enjoy though!

She still has about ten minutes before the meal is fully prepared and she’ll wait for another three hours in hopes that Liz will come. She has to come home at some point, Cat thinks leaning against the countertop folding her arms, It’s been almost two weeks. She lets out a slow breath, relaxing her body briefly, the shrill of the doorbell tensing her once more. Her eyes slide slowly towards the front door catching sight of the sleek black car parked in front of her house, Should I really be surprised at this point? She pushes herself off slowly making her way to the front door, pulling the cardigan closer, a soft knock out of time to her walk. 

Cat pulls the door open, the first thing she sees are John’s blue eyes darkened by the night. He smiles as she leans against the door, meeting him with a small smile, “Little late for missionary work don’t you think?”

John gives a small shake of his head, “Hilarious,” one of his hands holds a reusable shopping bag as the other gestures inside, “May I come in?”

She stiffened, heart picking up speed, “She might come back John,” Cat glanced back at the stove avoiding his gaze, at least nothing looked to be burning, “She won’t want to see you.”

His smile falters for a split second, “Well I’ll leave if she does show up,” Cat bites her lip, casting her eyes downward, “I just came to see you.”

She perks her head up, giving a small tilt, “You came to see me?” He nods, “Why?”

He shrugs, “Does there have to be a reason,” he asks, face not matching the apathy in his tone, “I figured you could use some company.”

She lets out a sigh, turning away back to the kitchen, “You better keep your promise of leaving if she shows up, John.” Cat leaves the door open, John following behind quickly watching as she moves about the small kitchen. He gives a smirk as he notes her familiar dinner pattern of having a meat, something heavy in carbs, and a vegetable to form a complete meal, he can only assume there’s some kind of dessert lying in wait in the refrigerator. 

He takes a seat at the round table, glancing around the room setting the bag on the floor next to him, “I’m surprised you didn’t find a house with a bigger kitchen my Catlina.”

“I didn’t need one,” she replies matter of factly, “Liz and I weren’t getting a lot of visitors so what was the point?”

“Because you could,” she still doesn’t face him head on, which is fine with him as he gets an opportunity to look at his ex-wife for more than just a few rushed minutes, taking in the new details about her. The way the grey in her hair shined through under the lights, how she moves about with more confidence than when he first saw her getting up from that bed seventeen years ago, and the sliver of art peeking out from beneath her shirt on her back making it easy to miss the scarred ends of sin if you didn’t already know of their location. “I made sure you’d have more than enough to get a nice place,” he muses, moving to stand.

Cat brings down the plates, three of them, with a huff, “I thought I made it clear I didn’t like using your money.” Her movements are sharp and short as she puts food on it, gripping the utensils with white knuckles.

“You did,” he sits himself back down as she walks over to him with a plate, “I just wanted to take care of you is all. You and Liz.” Cat gives a small eye roll, working to set the plate down gently rather than drop it like she wishes she could, it's part of her favorite set though.

Her jaw tightens moving to make her own plate, “I don’t need someone to take care of us. I managed just fine.” It’s a lie, his money came in handy when she kept moving hoping for a fresh start for Liz and then again when Cat had a breakdown the week Joseph became a fugitive. She never wants to tell him this though, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction or the power over her. 

“You were the one that asked me for money though,” she splays her hands on the counter, nails digging into the faux granite, “So it seems like you did need me.”

“Only because I was at the last of my options,” she says through gritted teeth, “I set aside my pride for Liz because she needed a place that was safe and as free as one could be with her,” Cat paused, turning to look John up and down trying to hold back the sneer, “genetics. Ones that no one lets her forget once they know.”

His eyes narrow, a hand running through his hair, teeth grinding, “I am aware of her life and how it’s been Catlina, there’s no need to remind me.” 

“Never hurts to do so with you.”

John inhales deeply, closing his eyes, “There’s no need to bring this argument up once again, don’t you agree?” 

She glares at him a moment more before nodding, finally allowing herself to sit down across from him. Her shoulders fall with an exhale as she settles herself, eyes casting downward, replying softly, “I don’t really feel like arguing with you tonight anyway.” 

John lets the quiet loom, waiting for her to take the first bite before making any movement of his own. He shouldn’t have been surprised by how quickly the accusations started with her, her anger did always have its way of festering beneath the surface and John had always been the one that could draw it out. Little by little until it all flooded out and she was no longer the same person he had grown to love and care for. John smirks to himself at the memories of their first few weeks together, “Do you remember those first few weeks and we did nothing but fight all the time?” She glances up at him, “Sorry. When we did nothing but argue.”

“We didn’t fight all the time,” Cat mumbles, pushing the food around on her plate. “I didn’t really like talking to you, I remember that.”

John laughs, “You and I still talked quite a bit,” his teasing tone getting an eye roll from Cat, “and it always seemed to end with you stating an opinion that I didn’t agree with.”

“You know I wasn’t the only one giving opinions,” a smile teases at the corner of her lips, pointing the fork at him, “You baited me into those arguments. Tested my patience.”

“Not like it was hard to do, especially then.” John smiles resting his chin on his hand, “We were so different you and I, like oil and vinegar,” Cat snorts, giving a small shae of her head, “Pretty sure my brothers still wonder how we managed to actually end up falling for each other.”

Cat stiffens at the notion, swallowing the bite in her mouth, “There are people that believe they know how we managed that.” The memories of when she would call out to him in the months following her return to society and the calm responses of the doctors telling her that it was all made up, some side effect of whatever they drugged her with echo on the edge of her hearing. She swallows the memories back, “We did seem to meet up in some kind of middle, I’ll admit, even if it was brief.” Cat can’t even fake a smile as she casts her gaze down, no longer focusing on the plate in front of her. John slides the chair closer to her, reaching out to place his hand gently on hers.

He gives a small smile when she looks up at him, “There’s still time. We can always pick up where we left off,” Cat’s stomach flips, her chest pulling towards him while everything else backs away. He can’t be serious. He knows why we can’t, “After all, we do have a child together, so I doubt we’ll ever fully be out of each other’s life.”

“John,” she warns, looking up, “we’ve talked about this.”

“I’ll be good, don’t worry,” he says softly, “Just hard not to think about, on today of all days.”

Cat frowns, “What do you mean ‘today of all days’?”

He gives a genuine smile, something she forgot he could do, “It’s the day this all started.”

“You remembered,” she gives John a pointed look, arching a brow, “the exact day I finally woke up after the accident?”

“I could tell you the exact date if you’d like but it seems a little irrelevant considering that day passed.”

She opened her mouth ready to argue, closing it as she glanced at the digital clock on the wall the date spelled out for her. “Our wedding,” she whispered, eyes moving slowly to look back at John slowly, unease threatening to climb her spine, “That was today wasn’t it?”

He nods, giving a small hum, “Married seventeen years today.”

“I think illegally in the eyes of the law, technically, but that’s more your department,” Cat looks down to the bag still at his feet, “Is that why you brought that stuff?”

John gives a nonchalant shrug, “Kind of seems silly now, don’t you think? Especially since I was the only one of us to remember,” he laughs softly trying to keep the mood light.

“I used to remember it,” she admits pushing some of the food on her plate, “Used to fixate on that date to a point I’d get upset when it wasn’t.” Cat lets out a slow breath, “Used to convince myself that you would finally come back, would whisk me away from that place and we’d live out our lives happily, because surely my husband, who loved me so deeply and obsessively, wouldn’t just abandon me on our anniversary.” 

“Ah,” he hunches, leaning his elbows on the table, “I see.”

“Eventually days started to blur and I worked to actively not think about Montana. Honestly it became too painful to do so and I had Liz to focus on.” She shook her head, “So I’m sorry, I-well I needed to forget that date. Forget the significance of today.”

“I understand,” John attempts a smile that falls quickly, “The first one didn’t go so well for me either. I lost your ring….,” he sighs, “O well the dep-Chance stole it from me. Probably should have taken that as a sign looking back at it all.”

They let the silence fall, each taking small bites finding nothing either could do to lift the disappointment. Cat paused peering closer to the contents John had brought with him, the only thing she could identify with certainty being a bottle of wine. It’s just one night. It doesn’t have to mean anything long term, She bit the inside of her lip, It doesn’t even have to go beyond talking. She swallowed, inhaling deeply, standing to make her way to the cabinets, John watching curiously. 

She pulled down two goblets, one a smokey black and the other a deep red, giving them a quick rinse and drying them off before walking back to the table. “Now don’t read too much into this,” she started going back for the wine opener, “but given we were both sort of on good terms with the other at the time of our first anniversary I say that we let ourselves celebrate it late.”

John smirked, arching a brow, “Do you really think that’s a good idea, my Catlina ,” he asked, pulling out the bottle from the bag, taking the opener from her.

“I think it’s the nice and right thing to do,” she smiled giving a shrug, “Besides it might help us get some closure on us.”

He pulled the cork out with ease, eyes widening, watching as she poured their glasses. There was little hesitation to her words, something that he once again should have seen coming, still it did little to ease the sting, “Yeah, it could,” he agreed reluctantly, “We both can use the closure.” 

She threw him a smile, going to the fridge once more putting away the remaining dinner, John took a glance at the small purple wrapped box he pulled from his pocket as she announced her idea of celebrating. He took a deep breath sliding it back into place, opting to pull out the small container of chocolate covered fruit before Cat had turned back to him fully, his smile on to its full charm once more. He could let himself enjoy these few hours, let himself believe that there was a chance for them once more. John held up his glass once she sat down, “To celebrating our first and only year of marriage,” Cat laughed, tapping her glass against his before they took their first drink of the night. One night. She could let herself indulge in the fantasy she once, still, craved for just this one night. It didn’t have to mean anything more.

[redhairedfeistynerd]

The Art of Folding Laundry

Pairing: singledad!Bucky x reader

Summary: A moment of silence is all Bucky needs.

Words: 1700

Warnings: Fluff, kids (Bucky’s kids)

A/N: This is part of my singledad!Bucky series.

Slivers of light are starting to peek through the wooden blinds in the family room, he knows he only has another hour or so before the girls wake up. They’ll poke their heads in, bleary eyed and asking him to make a special breakfast; most likely an omelet or waffles with fresh berries.  

He takes a deep breath in and enjoys the silence. The few memories of quiet days rotating around his head, usually when the girls sleep or if they spend a night at a friend's house. Memories of life before fatherhood pop up from time to time. The battles, the carnage, the loneliness.  

He doesn’t belong to that world anymore.

He’s part of a world that once had dirty diapers and burp cloths and now his world is full of hair braiding and unicorns.  

And everything is calm during these wee hours of the morning.

The calmness, the eerie stillness around him before he would fire off a shot from his rifle.  This, this was the calm that spread over him now, as he reached over to pull another towel into his hands. Corner to corner, fold, corners again, fold, and they better match up perfectly.  

Add it to the pile.  

Repeat.

Bucky found great comfort in folding the laundry.

Pick up another towel from the basket. Fold. Repeat. He often felt that it was therapeutic; his brain stopped running in circles, his thoughts generally focusing around the girls.  

His girls.

He has a hard time remembering what life was like before them. They consume his thoughts most days. Every leaf that falls, every laugh he hears – he thinks of his girls.

Maybe he’s getting softer with each year that passes. There are no longer missions for him to go on; he gave that up long ago, when fatherhood became his number one job.

Piper came first; silently she fell into this world (and his arms) 8 years ago. He cut the cord and she was handed over to him first, her tiny eyes looked up and he swore that she knew he was her dad. Bucky had never felt love like that before and if anything, it got stronger as each day passed.

He pleaded for a second child and 15 months later, Riley was born. Oh, and did she come into this world screaming; red faced and hands in fists, punching at the cold air. Every day for the last 6 years has been an adventure with his younger daughter. She was the fire he needed, the motivation; his strength to keep going each day and to not give up.  

He was forever in debt to his daughters for making him a better person.

And then there was you.

He couldn’t put a name to it yet, whatever it was that was going on.  

Friend, confidant, oh he wishes he could up the ante. Lady friend, sweetheart, lover. He shouldn’t get so far ahead; his fantasies were pulling him deeper. He hadn’t even...  

“OOF!”  

The sudden shout and then feeling of sinking yanked him out of his dream-like state. He heard her giggles before he saw her limbs flailing from the centre of the laundry pile beside him on the couch.  

“Daddy you had the goofiest look on your face and you were bitin’ at your lip and you didn’t even hear me do my sneak attack. I must be getting really good at the super spy stuff!” Riley laughed, pushing the wash cloths and towels to the floor.  

Bucky tries to make a serious dad face at Riley but the washcloth resting on her strawberry blonde curls has his smiling ear to ear. “You goof,” he laughs, swiping the blue cloth off of her head.

“But I am the best super spy, right Pops? Better than Pip, right?” She crawls out of the pile and into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.  

“Yes, my sweet girl, even better than Pips. BUT she rules when it comes to listening to other people’s... CONVERSATIONS!” Bucky reaches his left arm behind the couch and scoops up his oldest daughter, who is so full of laughter than her face is turning red and tears and almost springing from her bright blue eyes.  

“POPPPPPPS!! PUT. ME. DOWN!”

He knows this is the end of his alone time but it is also the beginning of a new day with his daughters –and nothing will ever top that.  

He does wonder about you though. What are you doing this morning? Are you sleeping still? Maybe you are thinking about him as well. He watches Piper and Riley scamper off into the kitchen and hears the clank of the bowls and utensils that girls are taking out of the drawers. Once they are out of sight, he picks his phone up from the side table and opens up his messages. Last message, two days ago – he had wished you good luck before you went for your review at work. He should send you a quick text, see how things went. Maybe you wanted to come over for breakfast. He tapped a short message and sent it off, leaving it open for her to pop by anytime this morning.

Maybe she would fold laundry with him between giggles and quick kisses while the girls ran around in the back yard.

Maybe the girls could go by their friend's house and he could forget about the laundry and kiss you longer and brush the hair back from your face. You would shy away and hide behind it but he would want to see the way your eyes sparkled before and after his lips were on yours.  

“Pops, can we have waffles? The yummy chocolate ones you make, please?” Riley asks pushing her face right into his.  

“Yes, yes. How about you pull out the mix and set everything up on the counter, ok?”

“Sure thing,” she says, smiling wide, clearly happy that she can help Bucky and have her breakfast of choice.

The girls are silent as they scoop berries and whip cream into their mouths; their waffles have long been devoured (he has left two for you in the oven, he knows you how much you love them). There’s a quick tapping at the front door and it opens slowly, your voice shouting “Barnes family, I have come to eat all of your waffles! Where are you hiding them?”  

Riley stands up on her chair shouting “In the oven! THE OVEN!”

“Oh Barnsey, trying to keep me away from my sweet waffles. I see how it is.” She walks towards where Bucky is sitting at the table and reaches out, tickling the back of neck and giggling.

He pretends to be annoyed and tries to brush her hands off of his neck but she is determined to make him squeal, maybe even scream. Standing up from his chair, her hands still trying to tickle him, he turns quickly and pretends he is going to lunge at her. His girls are quick though and wrap themselves around him, Riley has managed to cling to his right leg, while Piper is pulling his left arm and telling him she is stronger than his fancy arm. Their giggling is contagious and he can’t help but join in. Once their laughter seizes, he unwraps his youngest from him leg and sends them off to get washed and dressed for the day. They both hug y/n and set off upstairs to get changed.

She moves to the oven and reaches in with her bare hand to retrieve a waffle, instantly taking a bit of the warm square. “Oh, these are extra good today, did you put extra love in it for me,” she says winking at him and hopping down the steps to the family room. She takes one look at the laundry on the couch and floor and raises her left eyebrow. “Well Barnes, you sure know how to rile a girl up,” she says poking at the laundry on the couch. “Are these the kind of dates you have planned for me?”

Bucky just stares and keeps staring until he starts feeling a bit uncomfortable and he knows that you can tell because a smile is slowly forming on your lips. She moves forward and before he knows what you are doing (he would have been a horrible super soldier around you) you’ve tackled him down on the couch. He smirks and thinks that, this is where he wanted you in the first place and now that he has you here, what is he going to do with you. A week has passed since you had kissed, while lying in the backyard, staring at the clouds together. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you shift above him, straddling him and staring back into his eyes.

“Well Barnes, do I get to kiss you now?” Her left eyebrow has lifted as the she speaks; he loves how she looks at the very moment and nods his head in response. “Good. A week was too long not being able to be this close to you.”

Oh, and does he ever want to be closer than this with you.

She leans down, her hair tickling his face right before their lips are touching, Bucky’s flesh hand moves to her side rubbing it softly and shifting her dress around. “Better not lift that too high Barnsey, you don’t want your girls to see anything.”

“That’s not, that’s not what I was tryin’ to...”

“I’m just trying to work you up, you goof. I know you wouldn’t even fathom doing something like that.” She leans runs a hand through his hair and leans down into another kiss.  

He hears their feet, elephant like, bounding down the stairs and quickly shifts y/n off into the laundry pile that still remains on his couch. “Is this your way of telling me that you want me to finish folding your laundry? You could have just asked instead of throwing me into it,” she jokes.

Bucky chuckles at her smart-ass response and turns to catch Riley as she is about to wrap her arms around his neck.  

“Ha! Not this time, sweet pea! I heard you thumping down the stairs like a wild animal!” He pulls his youngest into a big bear hug and kisses the top of her head. “Go get your shoes on and we’ll meet you in the backyard, ok?”  He watches Riley run off to grab Piper and their shoes a nd when he turns back around to give y/n a quick kiss she whispers in his ear,  

“So, what’s our next date? Are you going to teach me how to fluff the pillows on your bed?”  

[chilling-seavey]

Since someone (you) wanted these asks to express “excitement” here it is – can I pretty please request an ABM dating phase where Daniel is working on a music class project with a female classmate and Florence is jealous but she feels like it's alright cause she's used to Matt cheating on her all the time?? This better? 😂 ~T

Yes, this ask is much nicer than your last try 😘 hehe Here we go-

Thursday, March 11, 2021

Daniel had been staying late at school recently. He had received a new project in one of his classes which started to take up a lot of his time as he had to spend extra time in the music studios outside of class time. With his assigned partner. Who happened to be a female. Now, Florence wasn’t a jealous person, and after having a successful friendship with Daniel and his friends, she was more than aware that it was possible for guys and girls to be platonic. And the first week or two was fine and Daniel came home talking excitedly about his project as it was in its planning stages, but as the weeks went on, he spoke less and less about it and seemed to be out more and more.

Florence only seemed to get more and more nervous about the whole idea, especially as Daniel seemed to shut her down and change the subject every time she tried to ask about his work. It didn’t help that she was living on her own with the two babies, Daniel still living full time with the guys so she didn’t see him too much to begin with. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but after the third night of having her FaceTime call declined, Florence was starting to get in her head.

It brought her right back to lonely nights when Matt wouldn’t come home, too busy hooking up or flirting with random girls at parties, while Florence was left alone with baby Clementine. Now with two babies, Florence was much more stressed and tired – the perfect recipe for overthinking. She hadn’t seen him since Sunday and hadn’t heard from him other than a simple good night or good morning text since Wednesday morning.

Florence’s anxiety was eating her alive and she couldn’t help but imagine him with some random girl making out in the studio instead of working. It nearly made her sick to her stomach but she didn’t expect any different since Matt had done the same. Maybe it was a guy thing? The naivety that coursed through her was sometimes comical.  

Daniel showed up to surprise her that evening, bringing takeout for the both of them as he came right from campus. She still had yet to make him a key, so he had to knock, sending her a grin when she opened the door.

“Hey, Flora.”

He didn’t notice her momentary frown at his lack of his sweet pet names as he pulled her into a hug. Florence wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her face into his neck and took a gentle inhale to see if she could smell perfume on him – that was always a giveaway with Matt. There was just the woodsy scent of his cologne and the slight must of the old school building…and a hint of vanilla.

Daniel pulled away from her and didn’t even kiss her before heading into the apartment with a tired sigh but still with a calm smile. Penelope was already put to bed but Clementine was still up, dressed in her pyjamas with wet hair from her bath as she was sat on the living room rug playing with her toys before bed.

She absolutely lit up at the sight of Daniel, jumping up and rushing to greet him, “Dada!”

“Hi there, my sweet angel!” Daniel bent down to scoop her up, holding her close as he peppered kisses over her chubby cheek. “I missed you!”

“Me too!” Clementine threw her arms around his neck and cuddled into him as he tucked her legs around his waist.

Florence watched them silently for a few long seconds, staring at Daniel’s back as Clementine hung onto him, her little hands clinging onto the back of his shirt. She suddenly shifted, pushing her fingers into the back of his hair as she sat up in his arms to look at him. Florence didn’t even listen to what they were babbling about, only focused on the fact that Daniel’s hair was much messier than normal.

“Time for bed, Clemmy.” Florence said, cutting off the two-year-old’s little conversation, hardly without realising it.

“I can put her down.” Daniel offered.

“It’s fine.” Florence took the toddler from him and Clementine cuddled sleepily against her mother. Daniel said a soft good night to her before Florence took her down to her room to tuck her in.

Daniel was unpacking the takeout when she came back out of the nursery and he sent her a smile as he poured the pad thai on plates, “I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet but I was starving. Gillian and I ate at this place the other night and it was so good. I was really craving it and I thought you might want to try it too.”

He held out a pair of chopsticks to her.

“Gillian?” Florence questioned, taking the utensils and her plate her offered out.

“Yeah. My partner for the studio project I’ve been working on.” Daniel said, walking around the island to sit at the breakfast bar. “She’s really talented and we’ve been learning so much with each other.”

Florence only nodded, jabbing her chopsticks into the plate of pad thai and twirled them around a little, not feeling hungry in the slightest. Daniel dived right in, taking a mouthful before pulling out his phone and scrolling away with one hand as he ate. Florence let her eyes glance at his phone screen, looking away quickly when she realized he was texting someone. His light laughter made her clench her jaw to hold back her nervous tears and he set his chopsticks down to text a reply. The clicks of his phone keyboard had her heart racing in her chest and she stood up from the bar stool and carried her plate around to the empty containers still on the counter.

“Did you not like it?” Daniel asked, looking up at her movement.

“I’m not hungry.” Florence mumbled, sliding it back in the takeout container before closing it and setting it in the fridge. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed.”

“Oh…okay.” Daniel frowned slightly, watching her trudge off to her bedroom without a look back.

Over the last two years, Florence had perfected the art of crying in the shower. And that’s exactly what she did, her tears washed away with the warm water and her sobs muffled by the stream. Why did this hurt more than it did with Matt? She washed her face free of tears and got dried and dressed into pyjamas – her own t-shirt and plaid pants – before heading back out to the main area of the apartment.

Daniel was still at the island, typing away furiously on his phone. He looked up at her as she came out of her room.

“Did you run out of my hoodies?” Daniel offered a lighthearted joke at her outfit of only her on clothes, but he was met with no response.

Florence busied herself with picking up the toys that were scattered over the living room rug. Her silence had Daniel putting his phone down and spinning around on the bar stool to face her.

“Are you okay?”

Florence swallowed thickly, holding back her tears that burned her eyes as they threatened to fall again. She tossed the toys in the basket in the corner and organized the coffee table that was honestly already tidy, but she was too anxious to just sit still. She always stress cleaned.

“Baby?” Daniel tried again, getting off the stool and made his way over to her. He gently took her arm to pull her away from the coffee table and get to her to face him. Her shimmering eyes and red cheeks had him frowning in concern, “Were you crying?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m fine.” Florence flatly assured him, offering him a tight smile before slinking past him to the kitchen.

“You’re not fine. What’s going on? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Can you…not call me that?”

Daniel seemed taken back, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, “I…Okay. I thought you liked it.”

“Not anymore.” Florence whispered, her voice breaking as she grabbed his empty plate to wash it by hand, needing to somehow busy herself.

“Not anymore? Did I do something?” Daniel asked quietly, standing right next to her, his body angled towards her as a subconscious action that meant he was completely focused on her.

“More like someone.” Florence said before she could catch herself. She played it off with an, “It’s fine though.”

“What? Did someone? What are you talking about?” Daniel frowned.

“You smell like vanilla.” Florence said flatly, turning on the sink.

“I…what?”

“You smell like vanilla. You smell like some other girl.”

“Probably because I just spent all afternoon locked in a small room with one. Are you…are you accusing me of cheating on you?”

Florence only shrugged.

“Florence, oh my God.” Daniel gaped. “How could you even think that?”

“The perfume on your clothes, your messy hair, the sneaky texts, the late nights. I haven’t heard from you in two days but Gillian gets lunch dates. I know the routine. I’ve lived this before.”

“Okay, stop. You have heard me say more times than either of us can count that Matt was fucking asshole and he didn’t deserve you yet alone deserve the time of day. I am nothing like him. For multiple reasons but especially because I would never even dream of cheating on you. Not now and not ever.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Florence grumbled, scrubbing hard at the plate in her hand.

“I am not a liar, Florence Margret.” Daniel stepped closer to her. “I am not a liar and I am not a cheater.”

Florence sniffled a little, still scrubbing away at the plate that was definitely clean by then.

“Can you look at me?” Daniel asked, an obvious edge to his voice.

She didn’t move, biting on her bottom lip as her chest rose and fell rapidly over the situation at hand, still cleaning the plate in the sink. He stared at her for a moment, his expression torn between anger and concern.

“The messy hair is from headphone’s I’ve been wearing all day, the perfume is because she’s my work partner and she drowns herself in the stuff, the late nights are because I’m working my ass off to actually get a good grade from the toughest professor I’ve had the last three years, and there are no sneaky texts! She sent me something earlier tonight about the file name that we changed today. You can freaking read them if you don’t believe me!”

“I don’t want to read them.” Florence grumbled, her voice wavering. “I just want to know why I haven’t seen you since Sunday.”

“I’ve been drowning in work, honestly. Midterms are coming up and it’s my third year. I don’t even know why I have to justify myself here.”

“Because you have a daughter.”

“I have two actually. I know. This has nothing to do with my schoolwork. I don’t love them or you any less because I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to take Gillian for pad thai.”

“I have to eat lunch, Florence, are you serious? You’re being a little ridiculous here.”

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m always second choice all the fucking time.” Florence mumbled coldly.

“I don’t want to get angry because I know you’re upset for a valid reason because of your past but that just pissed me off.” Daniel scoffed, taking a disbelieving step back from her as he shook his head. “When the hell have you ever been my second choice? Huh? Honestly. I didn’t spend the last nearly three years chasing after you and constantly professing my love for you to just brush me aside and then for you to tell me that I’m making you feel like a second choice. You are speaking to the king of second choices. Hell, I was the third choice for a bit there too. You have never been my second choice. Ever. You have always been my first choice, Florence Margret. Always.”

With that, he turned and grabbed his backpack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder on his way to the door without a look back.

Florence kept her head down as he walked out, the sound of the door shutting finally getting her to drop the plate into the bottom of the sink, chipping the edge of it as it fell against the stainless steel. She leaned her hands on the edge of the counter to try and take a deep breath, only being met with a small sob. She pressed her soapy hands to her face in embarrassment as she cried.

Florence found herself on the kitchen floor, wallowing in her own self hatred for a while as she cried into her knees and muffled her sobs into her arms. She was sure she ruined yet another relationship and the longer she sat there, the more she was convincing herself of that. Her phone rang from the kitchen counter and she ignored it, letting it go to voicemail as she kept herself curled up on the cool tile floor. It rang again after a few moments and she blindly reached up to grab it, glancing at the screen just as it went to voicemail again, seeing two missed calls from Daniel. He called again and she answered it, licking her lips slowly as she raised it to her ear.

“Can you let me in please?” he asked before she could say anything.

She got up from the kitchen floor and trudged down the hall to the front door and opened it, revealing Daniel stood outside, duffle bag over one shoulder and backpack over his other. They stared at each other in silence a moment, both obviously had been crying but not quite knowing what to say first.

“Can I come in?” Daniel finally asked softly.

Florence nodded and stepped aside to let him in. She closed the door behind him and crossed her arms over her chest nervously. Daniel dropped his bags to the floor and turned to her, looping a finger around the collar of her shirt and he pulled her close to press a kiss to her lips. They stayed there motionless for a moment before Daniel leaned back again as their eyes met.

“My only choice.” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.” Florence mumbled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hug him tightly.

“I know.” Daniel said, brushing his hand through her hair and then down her back, “I’m sorry that one idiot’s stupidity hurt you so badly that it’s what you think you only deserve.”

Florence only nodded weakly, squeezing her eyes closed tightly as she clung onto him.

“I love you. More than anyone. Only you.”

“I love you too.” Florence sighed against his shoulder, his fresh hoodie he wore only smelling like him.

“You have all of me, okay? My heart, my soul, and even my virginity.” Daniel chuckled against her cheek and her giggle had him pressing a kiss to the same spot. “Not going anywhere without you.”

Florence leaned back from his shoulder and leaned in to kiss his lips, raising her hands to the sides of his neck to keep him there a moment longer.

Daniel broke their soft kiss with a bashful smile, “I’m officially inviting myself over until Monday. I packed a bag and everything. You’re gonna get so sick of me.”

“Not possible.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eighty

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

August 30th, 2002

Emile set down the last box with a heavy sigh and looked to Faith with a smile. “That’s the last of them,” he assured her.

“Thanks for being willing to help me move, Emile,” Faith said. “I really wish my folks weren’t so far away sometimes, but you and everyone else I’ve made friends with have been a huge help.”

“Hey, no problem!” Emile chirped. “So long as you crush your final two years like you crushed them at your last school, you’ll do fine.”

Faith grinned and crushed Emile in a hug. “Thanks. Now, I think you’d better find Remy, because I believe some of the guys in the dorms were eyeing him earlier...”

Emile groaned and nodded. “Thanks for the tip. Talk soon?”

“You know it!” Faith exclaimed with a grin.

  January 26th, 2003

Emile laughed a little as he moved the last box from the car to the townhouse he and Remy were now proudly paying a mortgage for. He wiped the dirt from his hands and looked around the empty space with a happy grin. Remy was leaning against the wall with a huge smile. “We’ve done it!” Emile exclaimed. “We’ve officially moved into a townhouse!”

“No more mother coming to bother me, no more Grace knocking on our door or subtly hinting that she doesn’t approve of us!” Remy crowed. “Oh, God, we’re gonna have to save up for more furniture than just a couch, the TV stuff, and a card table, but we have a fully furnished master bedroom, an office, and two guestrooms, and that’s good enough for now!”

Emile closed the front door and sighed, looking around. “We should probably unpack our clothes and stuff soon. Before tonight. And get out enough plates and utensils that we can eat.”

“You take care of the clothes and I take care of the kitchen?” Remy offered.

“You just want full range of knowing where everything in the kitchen is without both of us arguing over the sorting systems of pots and pans,” Emile playfully accused.

“Duh,” Remy said, shamelessly grinning.

“Of course, you know if you sort the pans and I sort the clothes, I get to color-sort your shirts,” Emile said innocently.

Remy froze at that declaration and Emile watched the gears whir in his mind, weighing his options. Remy hated when Emile tried to sort through his clothes, so this would either make or break the afternoon plans. “You know what? Fine. It’s worth it if I get free reign over the kitchen,” Remy said with a shrug. “And if I don’t like your system I’ll just move all my clothes around at a later date.”

“We both know that’ll never happen, but all right,” Emile laughed, taking the boxes of clothes and heading to the master bedroom.

Emile set the clothes down with a sigh, stretching before pulling out hangers and getting all of his clothes in the closet the way he liked them first. Sweaters and sweater vests on the inside, shirts in the middle, pants towards the edges, and everything sorted by color. He went through Remy’s clothes, after, tutting at the state that they were in. Remy had mostly thrown all his clothes into the box, barely folding anything outside his suit and blouses.

Slowly but surely, Emile sorted through everything and followed the mirror image of what he had done with his clothes for Remy’s. As Emile moved the last of the clothes, it became evident that Remy had used the box for more than just moving the clothes, as there were lumps and bumps that were slowly revealed to be knick-knacks. Emile glanced at the bedroom door. Hopefully Remy wouldn’t mind if Emile looked through them.

Emile saw Bones first, of course, and carefully put him on the bed, making sure nothing had dug into or torn the fur. Next, came a small trophy that Emile recognized as being from when all their friends had gone to the dollar store and gotten each other trophies with various ridiculous stickers on them. Emile kept that in the box, figuring that Remy would want to deal with that on his own. There was a small yet valuable stack of comics, and underneath...

Emile blinked when he pulled out a photo album, the cover done in blue plaid, with stickers on the front, slapped on in the way a child might try and be neat, spelling “BEST BROTHERS” in all capital letters. Emile flipped the cover open and put a hand to his mouth as tears inexplicably formed in his eyes. There, the very first photo, was a picture of a toddler with almost-tamed brown hair and freckles, staring in wonder at a baby with a blue blanket and hat. He flipped the photo over and saw “Toby meeting Remy” in loopy cursive written on the back.

The next photo in the album was the same toddler, sitting on a sofa, staring adoringly at the baby as a woman who looked like Remy’s mother pointing, no doubt showing the toddler how to hold Remy. There were several pictures of the toddler and the infant, one where the toddler was holding a bottle which made Emile grin and coo at the photo. There were a few photos of the two playing, or the toddler and another girl sitting and reading while a baby Remy slept in the corner.

Then came a photo which had Emile outright crying. A baby Remy, with unkempt blonde hair was reaching for a slightly-older-than-toddler Toby, foot raised midstep as Toby held out his arms. The photo directly after that showed Toby hugging a beaming Remy, and Emile knew that had to be Remy’s first steps.

“Emile, come on, sorting clothes can’t take this...” Remy paused midway through his sentence, staring at Emile, who glanced back at him guiltily even as he was still crying. “...Long. Where did you find that?”

“It was at the bottom of your clothes box,” Emile said, offering it back to Remy. “Sorry for prying, I was just curious.”

Remy looked at the photos on the page Emile had been staring at, and he smiled. “Hey, those were my first steps. Toby asked for a hug and I just walked over and gave him one.”

“I thought they must be, to be captured on film,” Emile said softly. “How long have you had this?”

“Toby gave it to me that first Thanksgiving when I went back home, a reminder that we’d always be there for each other,” Remy said softly, flipping through the pages, before turning the book over and flipping to the last photo, where there was a beaming Toby and a reluctantly smiling Remy in his cap and gown. “That was the day I graduated high school,” he said. “Toby insisted on getting a picture where I didn’t look completely sullen.”

Emile grinned, marvelling at the picture. “That’s amazing, Rem,” he said.

Remy sniffed a laugh. “Yeah, Toby always insisted I smile for at least one photo for his album. This was his. He had to be about five when he noticed my mom had photo albums in our parents room and he insisted on having one of his own, complete with copies of the photos that featured me and him when I was just a baby.”

“Wow,” Emile said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Yeah. He had one for him and Vanessa, too, but this was ours,” Remy said with a smile. “He was so proud of it, even when he went off to college. He would brag to me about how he would always catch me mid-smile without me realizing, no matter how much I would snarl after I realized he took a photo of me. He loved photography, and graphic design. That’s actually his ideal job. Marketing and graphic design.”

“He went to an art school, I remember you saying,” Emile said. “I was surprised. I would have thought your parents wouldn’t want him to take that sort of risk.”

“Nah, Toby was the golden child, he could do no wrong and he could make anything work so long as he put in the effort,” Remy said, shaking his head. “Once he started showing that he had a knack for art my parents pushed him to continue. You should see his portraits, Emile, they’re works of art.”

“You don’t resent him,” Emile observed.

Remy looked up, confused. “Why would I?”

“You said he was the golden child, and most kids resent when one of their siblings is favored over themselves,” Emile said.

“Nah. Toby made up for the love my parents didn’t give me in spades. They adored him and he adored me.” Remy shook his head again, blinking back tears. “I miss him and his dorky insistence on taking a photo at every big milestone. He would insist on taking a photo the opening day of Sleep Easy, when that happens, and he would have probably gotten a picture of today, too, and just...God, he took so many photos, but I do miss it.”

Emile swiped Remy’s tears away with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, remember what Dice said? He has the city. He has the city Toby is in and he’s asking around for a specific address and phone number. We’re so close to finding him, Rem. We might even find him before Sleep Easy opens and he can take that picture opening day. You two will be together, and get to take so many more photos.”

Remy laughed. “So many photos. I’ll be begging him to stop, and he’ll simply respond with a ‘never.’”

“That’s the spirit!” Emile encouraged. “He’ll take pictures and we’ll cover the walls of this house with them. It will be great.”

“You really mean that?” Remy asked. “You’d really cover the house with photos that Toby took?”

“Yeah, I really would,” Emile said. “Even if he never took a single one of us, which I severely doubt, I would buy his art in a heartbeat to cover the house with. Because it’s a good reminder that he’s there for you even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

Remy smiled softly. “I think there are probably some old home movies of Toby and I running around and playing. We’d go on epic adventures around the house, and Mom hated us climbing on the furniture to do it, but she didn’t stop us until I was about five and old enough to understand that the table probably wouldn’t support my weight if I kept clamoring on it.”

“Did you have a favorite adventure?” Emile asked, electing to ignore the comment on Remy’s mother for the time being.

“Oh, I loved them all, it’s hard to think of just one. I loved being astronauts, pirates, criminals, cowboys, any and everything Toby and I could think up. We’d spend most of, if not the whole day playing in just a single world with one of the scenarios we came up with. That’s what made it so special. Toby would spend hours with me, just playing. There were times he’d spend the day with Vanessa, or Mom, or Dad if Dad was off work. But then he’d spend days with me...and it was like nothing could make me happier. I had his undivided attention, I could talk to him about whatever I wanted. And sure, I could talk to him on days we didn’t do that, and he’d still give me undivided attention. But the fact that he did that on his own, for a whole day, just because he wanted to...it meant the world.”

“I wouldn’t recommend climbing on the furniture when we find him again, but I’ll leave you two be to talk all you want,” Emile said.

“What? No!” Remy exclaimed. “Emile, you don’t understand. You’d be part of that conversation. You’re just as important to me as Toby. I want Toby and you to talk and get to know each other too. When we meet up again, I’m keeping you in on the conversation, too. It’s only fair.”

“And...you wouldn’t mind?” Emile asked, a little shocked. “You always talk about you and Toby together when we go over this sort of thing, and...I don’t want to accuse you of anything, you just...usually don’t include me in the equation.”

“Because I mostly talk about memories and things that have already happened, Emile,” Remy said, not unkindly. “I let you in on those memories so you’re not completely lost when I talk about stuff Toby and I have done. Because we will slip into inside jokes and ribbing each other at a moment’s notice. I want you there, Emile, of course I do. I want the two most important people in my life to meet.”

Emile grinned shyly. “Thanks, Rem,” he said softly. “Is there a reason you came up here?”

“I figured we could celebrate our new home by cooking something, making this place smell like home. You in?” Remy asked.

“Absolutely,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I’d love nothing more.”

[itslocsdiggs]

Taste of Honey

1 2.1

Without further ado, the long awaited second chapter of this lovely song fic(for a song that doesn’t quite exist yet). I’ve got my ducks in a row, so I won’t let the other updates stay so long anymore! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count 2k+

Triggers: none so far

Tags: @iknowthekoolaidflavor @daveeddiggsit @moondustmemories 

The two days flew by quickly. You spent the day fixing your hair and makeup to go on the unusually early date. You wanted to look good for him, so you brought out your sexiest and most formal dress with a slit up the thigh and a cape to keep you warm. Thankfully, he’d offered to pick you up because your car stalled on the way to class, so you had to leave it at the mechanic and walk back home.

Your roommate Nika greeted you with tea and pancakes. She had been a good roommate and friend since your junior year of college, so you stuck with her.

“I heard giggling and soft moans coming from the living room last night,” she says seriously.

“Would you stop! I was not moaning for any reason. I was on a video call,” you reached for the jar of sweetener to pour into her tea.

“Well, spill the deets, so I don’t have to make stuff up.”

You took a long sip staring at your expectant friend over the rim of your cup. “A gorgeous man came into the cafe yesterday, and he was just typing away on his laptop, so I kept refilling his beverages. He was grateful, so he left me a huge tip.”

“Sounds like he was trying to hit on you.”

“He admitted it. And I am not complaining, okay? He is so fine.”

“So what does he do, Y/N?” Nika asks in a sing-songy tone.

“He does...” You pause for a beat. “I actually don’t know.”

Her eyes wide, “I can’t believe you. Google him, now. You are not waiting for your date!””

“Okay, miss bossy,” you admonish, reaching for your phone. “I was gonna work it into the conversation.”

The search was quick and conclusive. Nika had her hand on her hip expectantly. “Well, what does he do”?

You sigh, “He’s a successful writer, poet, and business mogul. Ooh! And here are some sexy photos with him and his dog.” You smiled, scrolling through his social media.

“Please stay focused, Y/N. You’ve only got a few hours.”

“Okay, okay. Though it says he’s a private partner. I’m sure he told me all of this last night while I was going gaga over his looks.

“That sounds accurate. You’ve always got your head in the clouds,” Nika retorts taking a bite.

You both devoured the stack of pancakes quickly, and Nika offered to clean because there was no reason you should have to play Cinderella.

So, you were dressed and ready for your date an hour early. When he arrived, you were surprised to see how effortlessly he leaned against his car when you looked out the window, you nearly had an attack.

“If he dresses that well, he is definitely not a student,” you muttered under your breath.

Rafael rang the doorbell, and you opened it quickly before Nika could try and talk to him. Now was not the time. He took your hand in his as he led you to his car. She watched from her bedroom window anyway.

Hi Y/N, you look great. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m excited to see this surprise.”

He kissed your cheek and opened the door for you. Then he climbed into the driver’s side.

The drive was long, but soothing. Both of you enjoyed bonding over the music on the stereo. You hummed along sometimes despite your throat feeling like it was stuffed with cotton balls. Whenever he looked your way or took your hand to squeeze, you could only smile and nod. You distracted yourself with your surroundings outside the car window.

The awkward silence made the drive seem long even though it would be the only low point of the night.

He finally arrived at the venue and left the valet park. You were sad to get out because it was really comfortable.

You heard some really good hip hop music coming from inside the venue, and even in your heels you were itching to dance. But you decided not to embarrass yourself in front of this man you’ve only just met.

Walking in the double doors, you were impressed with the bright, unique decorations and displays that lit the room. A gust of cool air welcomed you in. “Hey Rafael, can you tell me what the event is for, now?” you asked with a wry smile.

He looks at you briefly, smiling before grabbing the table cards. He handed one card to you embossed in black ink with your name. “We are going to watch a gala for music education, and then I have arranged a private dinner for us. If you hear something you like, let me know,” he smiled at you.

You ignored his last comment and walked to your table. Rafael greeted a friend who stopped him halfway, and that was your first of many introductions for the night. He was a tall man with curly hair and a suit that fit him nicely.

“Y/N this is my favorite person to work with, Daveed. Daveed, this is Y/N, my date.” He took your hand and kissed it. You smiled, lost in the moment.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. It’s not often that my friend here plans such amazing dates. I hope that you have fun.”

“Thank you!” you say and smile in response.

Rafa scowled playfully, “don’t you have an opening act to do, man?”

 A bell sounded and everyone scrambled for their seats. The lights dimmed, then brightened slowly to reveal a well lit stage, tangled with wires and set up with a band.

Daveed and some other people did an opening act, and then the young children performed. You were amazed by the violinists and the jazz dancers. There were so many wonderful performances and costumes that you thought you would cry. You were like these kids once, bright-eyed and perfectly every note perfectly to any audience who would only recognize you by the smile on your face.

Some of Daveed and Rafa’s friends you discovered were also singers and they had such amazing solos. You suddenly wished you were at home in front of your mirror, or in the bakery kitchen filling donuts.

After the performances, guests bid to support one year’s free tuition at any of the arts and music schools amongst other expensive items. The volley and quick exchange of money in the room was really overwhelming, so you decided to get some air. As you walked around the lobby, the state of the art instruments on display caught your eye. On the platform stood a beautiful brand new guitar. You stared at it wistfully, before sauntering back over to your date. Rafael had joined the bidding crowd mesmerized by one art piece that was unlike anything he’d ever seen, and you were awestruck too.

Noting your presence, he leaned in and murmured, “Are you ready to eat?”

Yeah, that sounds good,” you reply, your stomach grumbled and echoed your response.

He led you down the spotlit hallway towards the booth he had reserved for the two of you. It was a small booth, and there was a beautiful centerpiece on the table. You sat in the middle, and he slid in closer to you.

“Y/N, thank you for coming out tonight, you look amazing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I’m sorry if meeting my friends was too weird. They haven’t seen me out with anyone in a while.”

“It’s okay, thank you for inviting me. I’m having a great time. I loved the performances. These kids are so talented,” you gushed.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. What did you think about the dance groups?

“It was definitely a timeless routine. The music choice was excellent. It was my favorite routine of the whole night,” you beamed.

“I’ll be sure to let the teacher know, she’s a very good friend of mine. So tell me, how was your presentation?” His emerald eyes shone with genuine interest.

You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with your bracelet, “I didn’t make it to school, I had to reschedule because my car broke down. I was really looking forward to it.”

“And I was really excited to hear about it,” Rafa replied with a sad smile, “Is there something I could do to help?”

You thought back to him bidding on the expensive tuitions he wanted to sponsor, and then you trained your eyes on the expensive bottle of wine the waiter just set down before you.

“N-no,” you stammer, “I am working on getting it out of the repair shop in a few days! It’s really no problem.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping you out. I really like you, Y/N. You’re hard working and sweet. You also make a mean cup of tea. I drink that flavor every day and I’ve never been able to get it quite right.”

Rafael fell silent and fiddled with the utensils for a moment. Finally he utters, “I was wondering if you’d be my girlfriend, with an added perk.”

Wow! What a pitch! You think to yourself as your eyes widen.

“And that perk would be?”

“I’d like to give you an allowance, baby. For you to spend however you like. He thinks for a moment, “You wouldn’t have to quit your job, but you should know,” Rafa lightly squeezes your hand, “I own the whole chain.”

Your mouth turned to cotton again and your brain tried to keep up. “Like a sugar baby? Wait you own Taste of Honey?”

“Yes, and yes,” he replies slowly, taking a sip of his wine and arching his eyebrow at you over the rim of his goblet.

Something quakes inside of you at the look. It must be your resolve crumbling.

You sit back and think to yourself. He’s really hot, so if you had to do it like most girls, it wouldn’t be a problem. Even if he just wanted a friend, girls like you don’t take free money like that, no matter how tempting. But he’s your boss, even hotter.

You smile at him, your sense of reasoning shot. Sipping some water, you lower your gaze, trying to mask your surprise. “That sounds interesting. And just about the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s doing things to me,” you say carefully, “You do things to me. So, yes. I’ll be your girlfriend, Rafa.”

The soft way you say his name makes his heart soar. He’s relieved he made a good move inviting you out tonight. You’re glad that you decided to say yes. It’s been a while since you allowed yourself to be out with someone.

As you eat, it’s quiet again. Digging into the amazing cuisine and the drinks, you were getting more relaxed. The prospect of not having to worry about your finances seemed amazing. Your job could just be pocket change, and you would not have to burden your family. Maybe you could quit and have more time to study. But you liked making beverages for the little old ladies and gorgeous men who frequented the cafe. It’s the best job you’ve had since you were a teenager. It’s also what led you here. Whatever you decided, you promised yourself to always be self-sufficient.

When you clear your plate, you smile and mirror Rafa’s actions over the rim of your glass, “As for your offer to be my sugar daddy, I’m going to need a couple of days to think it over.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” He looked excited that you were even considering it. But oh, I wish there was another word, gosh, I’m not that much older than you,” he rolled his eyes.

You laughed, “maybe we’ll find something else.”

You and Rafa continued to eat, and laughed at everything and nothing. Then he walked you back through the lobby where he said good night to his friends, and you took a good last look at the instruments on display now marked with price tags. Rafa led you through the garden towards the valet parking.

“Aww, the night is over so soon? “I had a really nice night. It was a pretty impressive first date, as those go.”

“Yeah? Thanks. I figured it wouldn’t be gentlemanly to keep you out all night. I know that your roommate will be waiting up,” Rafa smiled knowingly.

“It’s still early. What if I said, I could tell her tomorrow?”

He grinned, and offered his hand to you. You took his hand, and you walked slowly towards the line of cars. His vintage vehicle lit up as it approached the curb. The valet stepped out, opened the passenger side door, and Rafa assumed his position in the drivers seat smoothly. You settled into your seat, ready to see what the rest of the night would hold.

“Let’s go then.”