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sunflowerwinds · 17 days ago

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sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #vi x you #vi fluff #vi arcane #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi #vi fanfic #arcane show #arcane league of legends #arcane league of lesbians

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bryonyashaw · 2 years ago

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View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Bryony | Lifestyle | family | foodie (@bryonyannie)

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𝗘𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗠𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱

Spoil yourself with a decadently delicious treat with this Easy Millionaire's Shortbread recipe. With buttery layers of crumbly shortbread, sticky caramel made with creamy Carnation Condensed Milk and rich dark and white chocolate, these little squares really hit the jackpot!

𝙄𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

• 250g Shortbread biscuits, crushed

• 55g Butter, melted

• 150g Dark brown soft sugar

• 150g Butter

• 397g Carnation Condensed Milk

• 200g Dark chocolate

• 55g White chocolate

You will also require -

20cm brownie tin, lined with baking parchment with extra paper overhanging the edges

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙙

1) Put the crushed biscuits into a bowl with the melted butter. Mix it together thoroughly, then press the mixture into the base of your tin. Chill for ten minutes.

2) Gently heat the sugar and remaining butter in a heavy based, non-stick pan, stirring until melted.

3) Add the condensed milk and bring to a rapid boil, stirring continuously. Cook for around a minute or until the filling has thickened.

4) Pour the caramel over the base, then allow to cool. Once cooled, chill in the fridge or freeze until set.

5) Melt the chocolate in separate bowls. Pour the dark chocolate over the caramel and then add spoonfuls of the melted white chocolate. Swirl together with a spoon for a marbled effect that'll ensure your millionaire's shortbread recipe looks as good as it tastes.

6) Place back into the fridge to chill until set. Once set, remove from the tin, dip a sharp knife into hot water (this will make it much easier to cut) and then dry it briefly before using it to cut the shortbread into squares.

7) These scrumptious squares are great to share with friends but if you do have any left over you can keep them for up to two weeks. Simply put in an airtight container and pop it in the fridge. Enjoy!

Notes:

If you're in a hurry, you can also put the tin in the freezer to chill and set each layer. Another suggestion - using extra baking parchment to hang over the edges of the tin as you'll be able to lift your finished millionaire's shortbread out with more ease

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artyandink · 7 months ago

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maine coon

Summary: Dean initially hated your small touches. He used to feel weird with them on his skin. But now he craves them. He craves the high of feeling like a human, and you’re the best hit he’s ever had.

TW: Mentions of borderline dehumanisation (cause we hate John guys for making those two beautiful boys soldiers/mindless machines), two idiots in love, tooth rotting fluff! Thought up this little drabble :)

A/N - Maine coon because they’re a very friendly cat breed! Plus, a little comfort for Dean cause he needs it :) set in s1

Little touches.

It started like that. Just small brushes of your hand on his shoulder and ruffling of Sam’s hair. The younger Winchester would brush you off politely, fix his hair but wear an affectionate smile anyway.

Not Dean.

Dean would grumble, pout angrily, act as if he was wiping off the invisible trail your hands left and claim that he wasn’t a baby. All at first. But slowly, like an ice lolly in the sun, slowly melting, he found himself less inclined to brush you off. He’d get jumpy and irritable if you didn’t show him that affection for too long. He even found his nightmares appearing less frequently after being lulled to sleep with his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair because he couldn’t sleep.

You slept better too, knowing he was ok and he was able to turn to you, even though it was wordless. All it took was a flash of puppy eyes and you knew what he needed. The comfort that he deserved, after working himself to the bone protecting Sammy and you like his father taught him. Like a good soldier.

He didn’t feel like that with you.

Sleep was gently coaxed out of him by the sensation of nails on his scalp, a groan muffled by his face in his pillow as he instantly recognised the cool sensation of the ring on your finger as your hand smoothed down his hair. “Wake up, Dean.” You murmured softly, your thumb tracing his ear, and he almost smiled at the sensation. Almost.

The aroma of coffee hit his lungs, and when your hand ran down to gently press against his shoulders and massaging down to his shoulder blades, he didn’t feel so inclined to sleep further. So he sat up. He wanted to see you, your gorgeous face, with the eyes that told a thousand stories and those lips that were worth a thousand dollars when they were pursed in anger. Which only came out when someone hurt him or Sam.

He didn’t feel like he had a sword and shield in his hand in moments like these. Instead, he had a warm cup of coffee and your hand briefly petting his hair, which he leaned into before it even touched his head. “Mornin’.” He rasped out, voice crackly and hoarse from the morning, smacking his lips to get the morning taste off before taking the first heavenly hit of caffeine. And relishing in the aftershocks of the second euphoric high of your touch. “S’some damn good coffee, darlin’.”

“Black, two spoons o’ sugar, and a dash of beer.” You gave him a small smile as you stood up and moved to the kitchenette of your small motel room, looking beautiful to Dean even in your oversized shirt and sleep shorts, complete with black ankle socks. You had bed head that you were yet to sort out, but Dean was dazzled by the halo he could see over your head.

His mom said angels were watching over him. Maybe this is what she meant.

“Just how you like it.” You added, working to make some breakfast. The smell of cooking eggs and frying bacon filled the space, a small smile on your face as you contently cooked food for the man who was approaching you, coffee cup raising to his lips as his eyes followed you like a lost puppy. The cup clinked as it was set down on the counter, Dean’s tongue darting out to lick his lips before biting the bottom one as he tentatively made his way over to rest his chin on your shoulder from behind, his eyes closing slowly like a cat when your hand reached behind to gently play with his hair.

“Smells nice.” He murmured, almost like a purr as he leaned into your touch.

You chuckled, your fingers rubbing over the silky, spiky strands of his morning hedgehog hair. “That’s ‘cause I’m an amazing cook.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Dean added with a contented groan, wanting so badly to tell you how he felt. So much that it was threatening to burst out of his chest.

“What did I tell you about saying that?” You chastised, piling his plate with a bit extra of everything that he liked before sliding it closer to him. “C’mon, eat.”

“Thanks.” He cupped your cheeks, leaning in.

It was meant to be a simple kiss on the forehead. That’s all it was meant to be. But by some miracle (or maybe his eternal bad luck), his lips pressed against yours. Soft, slow, sweet. He puckered up, eyebrows raising in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering but staying closed before he decided to pull himself away, but it felt like yanking. Tugging. Practically peeling himself off, cause he didn’t want to let go.

His eyes didn’t open for at least a few second. But when he did, he saw yours. Your shining eyes, with a small, amused smile on your lips. Your gorgeous lips, that he just wanted to see swollen with all the kisses and love he could give you.

“What was that for?” Came your voice, quiet and docile as you looked at him in a way that only you could. Only you.

“I don’t know.” He murmured, eyes flicking to your lips again, itching for that high again. That hit. So he let himself taste you again, let himself lose his way in the labyrinth that came with your hand on the side of his neck and his cradling your cheek. The taste of coffee, the different ways you both liked it sweetening your palettes in a beautiful mix of sweet, sour and alcohol. The smell of old leather gracing you while the scent of your lavender body wash flooded him and sent him past cloud nine.

You pulled back slowly, because you also wanted to savour him. But when you saw the look on his face, his slightly swollen lips and the way they were parted in awe, you couldn’t help but melt and thumb his bottom lip.

“I think…” You paused to kiss his cheek softly, whispering against it, “I think I know.”

Make sure to leave feedback, everyone! I’d appreciate reblogs, likes and comments!

TAGLIST: @k-slla

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist

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grahoriasfancave · 1 month ago

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This fandom’s going through a lot of discourse right now, especially regarding mischaracterization, so here’s a list of non-rape-related details the game and Q&As tell us about Anya

(disclaimer: I’ve watched a handful of playthroughs but haven’t played Mouthwashing myself)

She’s competitive (re: game night)

She’s determined and/or stubborn (applying for medical school again and again to the detriment of her savings, keeping Curly alive though mercy-killing him would be just as acceptable)

She’s insanely good at her job even if she’s not legally a nurse (keeping Curly alive this long on very limited supplies, holy hell)

She’s a logical person (assessing situations quickly and accurately, taking time to think things through before acting, paying attention to detail)

She’s friendly toward her coworkers (teasing Swansea about his sweet tooth, pinning Daisuke’s art on the board in Medical, expressing amusement when Curly says something corny)

She gets lost in thought sometimes (Swansea complains she doesn’t always pay attention when he’s talking to her)

She and Curly have the same taste in music (Curly compliments her playlist)

She’s willing to break rules when it seems beneficial (hiding the gun, arguing that they should break into the cargo hold, allowing Curly to take over Jimmy’s psych eval)

She’s very academically inclined (reading and rereading manuals beyond her “wheelhouse” as the nurse, spending her free time studying)

She likes going for runs, horrible reality TV, and fast food

Feel free to reblog with anything I missed :)

#what anya went through should never be overlooked or dismissed but at the same time she is more than her trauma #and we’re given quite a few hints of her real personality #maybe not enough to form a solid idea of who she is in a relatively low-stress environment #but enough that we can mourn the woman we barely get to meet beyond jimmy’s heavily distorted perspective #mouthwashing #mouthwashing anya

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northgazaupdates · 3 months ago

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This is 4-year-old Ghina. Ghina was supposed to start school this year, but the IOF invasion made that impossible. Her home was destroyed, her neighborhood decimated, and her family displaced. Her parents are trying to teach her letters and numbers in both Arabic and English in their tent.

Ghina’s parents are trying to raise funds to be able to evacuate Gaza for Egypt. However, their progress has been very slow. They are trying to raise the funds in time for the Rafah border crossing to open, but they are struggling.

Additionally, Ghina has an illness stemming from a recent head wound she endured after a piece of her family’s tent, destroyed by a flood, struck her. Her baby siblings, twins Saba and Qusay, are also both very sick, with gastrointestinal problems and other serious symptoms. Her mother Samar has severe abdominal pain that has not yet been diagnosed, and her father Mohammed has a tooth infection that is getting serious. They also have no winter clothes for the twins, who were born just this spring, and they all require food and water which are extremely expense.

You can help this family stay alive by giving to their GFM here, or sending a quick, safe, and very helpful cash transfer.

STEPS FOR CASH TRANSFER

You can also contact Ghina’s father Mohammed directly on WhatsApp. He speaks English and is very friendly, he will be happy to go into more detail if needed. His WhatsApp contact is +970 592 440 590

GFM LINK:

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empty-vessel-of-a-person · 5 months ago

Text

Rough Relationship Timeline with Zayne based on his Memories

This is just my observation. Not All Memories are included. May Contain Spoilers for those who just started the game. I maybe wrong in some parts as nothing on this blog is confirmed by Infold PTE LTD.

Pre - Relationship Stage

Sweet Conspiracy

The awkwardness is a bit heavy here. They still do not know how to talk to each other and M/C learning about Zayne having a sweet tooth.

She doesn't know how to return his jacket but does not want to leave it at the hospital's reception. Probably a good choice. Who knows? Some nurse might just stole that jacket away. ;)

M/C knows he is in a medical conference but doesn't know when he'll be back. So they are not communicating well yet. Maybe just a few convo here and there when she's in for check up.

But my favorite part is when M/C indirectly say that she wants to see Zayne outside of the hospital by saying "You'll call me so I can get my candies back when I'm free.. And we'll see each other again"

This memory clearly shows who M/C is really interested to. She wants to see him again and even if it's awkward with him when they just saw each other again, she is clearly interested.

Glittering Lights

Zayne's paying attention to M/C's emotion and monitoring her in Social media. This thought alone clearly shows that Zayne is already particularly keeping an eye on her since they met again in the hospital.

They are also not fully acquitted yet which is why M/C is quite unsure to start conversations with him. But it shows how Zayne is trying to learn little things about her. He is not yet familiar with what she likes hence him asking her americano or latte.

They have a connection. When they are trying to find each other when they got separated during Zayne's sudden phone call, even M/C felt it. It's like they both felt that they are looking for each other and their eyes met.

And the most obvious clue that they are not yet an item, is that awkward goodbye wave. But it's cute because they are expecting more.

Gentle Twilight

This was the first time Zayne ask M/C to go with him as a mutual support agreement in doing things to make them relax. Why I think so? They never expect to see each other in the library and when he thinks M/C is going to refuse hiking with him, he grabs a book about medicine to ensure that she will come with him.

They still not keeping tabs on each other directly.

M/C calling Zayne as "Dr. Zayne" seems professional rather than teasing.

Please remember hiking and pottery lessons.

Neon Nights

She refers to Zayne as a friend and they just keep bumping to each other.

Zayne is clearly jealous that M/C buying a gift for someone. He's actually quite bitter.. hehehehe

Isn't it amazing that even they disagree and not in a relationship at this time, they are perfectly in sync and fight wonderfully together. Which is why they are great together.

Delicacy

Well M/C thinking Zayne needs to correct his classmates when they said she is his girlfriend.

They are already more acquitted in this as they already agreed on meeting up and they are learning new and more things about each other.

M/C is also picking up Zayne's habits and likes as she know he likes the food there.

Zayne is comfortable in introducing her already.

Zayne's also indirectly confess to her here. (I want to strangle Astra if you know what I mean!)

In a Relationship Stage

Tranquil Heart

This may not be a solid proof, but I think they started their relationship right after this memory.

Although it came out as a friendly banter between them, Zayne is clearly upset that he was not taking care of herself more. Not to mention being caught sneaking out at the hospital at the dead of the night.

But this is where the last line of the memory played out for the start of their relationship. Zayne again indirectly confess to her by saying "That he can't ignore you even if he wants to."

This line is so strong in so many levels. 1, it can imply on Foreseer seeing M/C again. He has a choice to either move on from her but he chose to stay and dedicate his life for her.

2 if he made a promise to her as a kid, it is forgivable if he forgot to help her with her sickness. But from then on he just simply existed for her. I still got chills thinking of what have Zayne must have felt when he first hug and kiss M/C.

Tranquil Moment

I think this is their early relationship stage because M/C is more familiar with Zayne's schedule now and she is seeing him to have dinner dates.

They are planning a dates and doing small things like making snow man and watching the snow. This simple things are one of the sweetest things as they mark the beginning of their relationship.

Drunken Intimacy/ Exclusive Tutorial

He is bringing her to events and showing her to classmates and colleagues. He is definitely showing her off and proud of her being a hunter.

He is being territorial. He warns M/C not to visit other doctors and keep close to her when someone wants to talk to her.

Spring Remnants

They are doing charity events together.

Notice how Zayne takes the box from M/C? This is not just him being gentleman because the next thing he say is "Allow me" referring to taking the box from her and the "Go register first" meaning M/C and Zayne are close enough for M/C knowing his details.

Zayne holding her hands.

At the end, Zayne says "Let's enjoy Spring together from now on" indicating they indeed start dating and Zayne wanting for them celebrate spring as a couple moving forward.

Starry Nocturne

I usually refrain from talking about this memory. Not only of it's heavy emotional content, but I can clearly feel the exhaustion and fear from Zayne.

If observe closely, you can see how they understand each other without a word. Zayne just looks at M/C and she already understood. The gesture is so intimate yet so wholesome.

They way they understood each other and the way she comforts him. M/C might have know that the exhaustion and fear comes with the thought of her in his mind.

Its given that they are already together but Zayne is still in a race against time. He might be busy with patients but all this effort as we know is to find a permanent cure for M/C. He works tirelessly for her. To not lose her again. And this brings me to one of the things that may be difficult to swallow for everyone.

While Xavier and Rafayel are still tied to their memory of M/C in their previous lifetime, Zayne is the only one leaving the past behind, embracing the present, and was fighting for a future with M/C. Words are not enough to express how deep and far his love could go and this is exactly why I love Zayne so much.

The Next Level Stage

Ramblings Come True

AGAIN, Although I cannot say this is a solid evidence, but when Zayne says "I was... referring to something you wouldn't regret" It was like he is asking for her if she is ready to take their relationship to the next stage and she agree by saying when she gets better. (M/C have a cold)

Fleeting Sweetness/Cozy Afternoon

M/C was able to enter Zayne's home while he was sleeping. Meaning she already have the keys to his home solidifying the fact that they are indeed in a relationship. I know mostly Japanese are more symbolic at this its like giving someone more

They are sleeping on the same bed on his house or at her place. M/C buying him him a pajama set.

They instinctively and freely touching each other. Be it holding hands or hugging.

Lingering Warmth/End of Depth/Heartstring Symphony/Business Trip/Snowy Serenity/Hidden Motive.

Do I actually need to explain this? hehehehe It's really obvious so I'll leave it there.

Final Thoughts

Zayne and M/C have a steady and strong bond when it comes to relationship. They might have tiptoed around it by not saying a direct "I Love You", but they live and breath for each other.

Isn't cute that they find a way to saying their true feelings by saying "The Moon is Beautiful"?

Thank you Infold for bring Zayne to us. If may just a game for other, but Zayne is my comfort zone. Having him is like having something that will be forever consistent in my life.

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne lads #lnds zayne #zayne l&ds #dr zayne #lads zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #zayne x mc #zayne x reader

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reader-wandering18 · 13 days ago

Text

Arcane Yuu (Zaun)

He was very surprised by the air of the place. So clean and full of magic, literally.

When he ended up in another timeline, separated from Ekko and Heimerdinger, he did not expect that when he tried to return he would end up in a world where Magic is the main basis that moves it.

Something very different in Runeterra where in some places it was considered something cursed and in others as a weapon. He expected a destroyed world but found himself in a paradise of magic.

But he couldn't stay in that place.

—Move

After having met a couple of idiots from that school (Deuce and Ace), an expulsion, almost dying in a mine and being accepted as a student, now Yuu found himself in front of the students of that place.

—Your pet ruined my food. I want you to give me what you have.

That boy along with his partner approached Yuu, to which he handed his tray to Deuce who took it confused.

— Oh, I'm going to...

And in just 4 moves, Yuu had finished off 2 third-year students. Both now staggering on the ground, one with a broken nose and the other missing a tooth.

A silence fell over the dining hall and certain gazes of people he would soon meet fell upon him.

—They are definitely like those Piltillos. They talk a lot, fight little.

That was his first impression at Night Raven College.

The students of that school were everything that Yuu identified as the same idiots from his world. Egocentric, proud, and they thought they were superior just for having magic.

He hated them... but not all of them.

— So, whi are You?

While he was investigating ways to get out of that world, a green light outside his dormitory was what caught his attention. Believing it was an intruder, he took one of the devices he had created from the scrap metal that the director got him.

Great was his surprise to find an imposing figure with horns in his yard.

— Don't you know me?

— Should I? — he said with a certain annoyed tone.

That person, being or whatever it was, laughed in a funny way which bothered Yuu.

— You shouldn't wander around other people's yards. You never know if they can react badly.

Malleus' gaze dropped to Yuu's hands where he noticed an object in his left hand. He didn't know what it was, at first glance it looked like junk but seeing how that human held it so tightly...

— I'm sorry, this was previously an abandoned place so I came to have some peace and quiet.

Yuu glanced at the bedroom that Director Crowley had given him as a temporary residence. His grip on the electrical grid he had made loosened a little.

— No, I'm sorry. This place must be very busy for you to come here tonight in a quiet manner. I'm going to start living here for a while so I'm sorry to take away one of your places where you can rest from the world.

Yuu's words surprised Malleus. Despite being young. (a child in his eyes) his words sounded tired.As if he also needed to be able to rest and forget everything even for a moment.

— If you've settled here, I'd better find another place to think. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you..

— You're different from the other students. Although you seem somewhat intimidating, you're much more polite — Yuu smiled kindly.

— ... What's your name?

Seeing the good atmosphere that was being produced in that place, Malleus couldn't help but want to meet that human who from the beginning saw him in a threatening way, and then, smiled at them in a friendly way.

There was a slight silence between them to which Malleus thought it was rude to ask his name when he hadn't given his own, although it seemed strange to him since he was very well known.

— Yuu

That was how a curious friendship was formed between a Zaunita and a fairy.

—Shishishishi, you spoiled rich kids always have your guard down.

Riddle looked furious, apparently wanting to go towards Ruggie who seemed to be about to run when Yuu's voice made him stop.

—You're right about that.

The gazes of the three boys and the cat turned to Yuu who looked at Ruggie with a bored look.

—However, being here with them has made you let your guard down as well.

Yuu showed what he was holding in his hand, what seemed to be a wallet, something that at first glance didn't seem to be that important. Those from Heartslabyul thought he was trying to bribe Ruggie due to his already known taste for money from that beastman, but upon closer look at that wallet, it seemed to be a little different from the others the two knew.

But Ruggie was quick to recognize the wallet and quickly and somewhat nervously searched in what seemed to be the hiding place where it should be, but it was empty.

—This, it's not yours right?

Yuu opened the wallet and searched inside finding a large amount of money that in that world was known as madol.

— Leona Kingscholar?

Ruggie laughed with irony and apparent annoyance.

— Funya! Yuu if you don't have magic, how could you take it from her?

— Yuu, you shouldn't search and much less steal another person's wallets!

— Answering Grim's question, no magic is needed to do this. And he answered Riddle, where I come from doing this is as normal as breathing the Kalima of Zaun.

Before Riddle could ask what the kalima was, Ruggie's voice interrupted him.

— So, you're like me.

The boys now turned to look at Ruggie who looked at Yuu with a mocking smile. To which Yuu answered with the same.

— You could say.

— Working for the top?

—Just like you.

His answer made Ruggie's smile fade and he looked at Yuu in annoyance.

—Look, I'm not looking to fight, let's just make a trade. Give me back their wands and I'll give you back your wallet.

—Wait a minute supervisor! We can't let go of our guilt! — Cater said

—We have nothing to blame him for in the first place, just suspicions. Talking to him won't make him tell us the truth. And with nothing against him, we can't stop him. Unfortunately for you, I'm not a vigilante who likes to arrest indiscriminately.

—That's not what I meant.

—I know, I'm sorry... I got carried away.

Yuu stretched out his arm to hand the wallet to Ruggie in a show of peace. Ruggie looked at the feathers in his hand and seemed to think for a moment.

They both approached and exchanged the items, but before walking away, Yuu couldn't help but whisper.

—We have to support ourselves from below.

His words made Ruggie look at him in surprise

Once the three of them walked away, Ruggie checked Leona's wallet, noticing the slight lack of some bills.

He simply smirked.

—Why are we here, Yuu? Didn't you say we no longer had money for our sweets?

—Well, it turns out fate smiled on me.

Of course, sometimes one can't help being the way one is.

— What brings you to the second year floor? — Riddle asked

Ace, Deuce and Jack were in the second year hallways after their last classes, which had made them meet Azul, Jamil, Riddle and Jade.

— We're looking for Yuu. — Deuce said

— My minions went to deliver some documents to Professor Trein. But he hasn't returned.

— It's been too long, so Jack suggested to go look for him.

— Jack seemed very worried~

— Grr it's not true, I just want to make sure he doesn't get into trouble.

— Certainly since Yuu's arrival, there hasn't been a single day when the school is silent. — Jamil said

— Don't mention him, he's someone really troublesome, I won't forget the ruckus he made in the monster room. — Azul couldn't help but sigh — It's the first time I've seen how a human was able to carry the twins. Yuu is really...

— Interesting. — Jade finished with a smile that sent shivers down the spine of the first years.

Suddenly, cries of surprise were heard throughout the hallway.

— Why so much noise? — Riddle asked

The group looked towards a corner of the left hallway, the sound of quick footsteps and an unfamiliar voice made the first years and Riddle's skin crawl.

It didn't take long for those two figures to appear, causing a stir.

— Yuu!

— Floyd!

The two approached them with great speed.

— YOU CAN'T RUN IN THE HALLWAYS! — Riddle shouted, standing in front of the group with an annoyed face. But seeing the ever-present case of his warning, he took out his pen and created a wall of wind that would catch both offenders.

But Yuu had done something that no one had anticipated.

He jumped off the balcony.

— YUU!!!!

— IDIOT, YOU'RE ON THE SECOND FLOOR! — Jamil shouted

The first and second year groups, as well as some students who noticed the jump of that boy without magic and the twin, ran to the balcony to expect the worst.

They were greatly surprised to see how Yuu grabbed the ledges and quickly went down to the first floor followed by Floyd with a much more terrifying smile.

— Hehehe This is very fun~. I didn't know that lobster knew parkour.

— Let's see how good a sea mermaid is.

— Heh, it seems that Floyd found a playmate. How envious — said Jade

— Come on!!

Ace ran followed by Jack and Deuce who was carrying Grim.

— Wait a minute!

Riddle ran after them while he was seen with an amused smile from Jade and a tired face from Azul.

— Yes, without a doubt Yuu gives "life" to the school.

— This looks really fun, come on Azul, I want to see what will happen.

— Hey Jade, don't pull me!!

Jamil saw how everyone went after that person without magic who, since he arrived at that prestigious institution for wizards, managed to oppose the leaders of the dormitory and at the same time, turn everything upside down.

—....

He sighed and went after the others.

...................

His breathing was labored, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

— Lobster~

Floyd's playful voice could be heard almost on the back of his neck, being chased like that reminded him a lot of his childhood, when he was chased by the men of Silco who sought to make him work in the mines for the extraction of shine.

Although Floyd was terrifying to many students of that institution, for Yuu he didn't compare at all to the people of Zaun.

But doing this is... Really liberating.

Yuu ran through the halls, running into a few familiar faces and several new faces he didn't know... Yet.

Among his acquaintances was Trey walking calmly through the halls of the first floor accompanied by a stranger with a peculiar cut and a handsome man, the three seemed to be talking until the sudden appearance of Yuu jumping on them made them surprise each other.

The handsome man grumbled in annoyance at seeing how he had been used as a springboard. But the one with the strange cut laughed amused.

Trey's glasses had fallen off in surprise. But Yuu ignored them and kept running until they reached the school's outer courtyard.

Cater and Kalim were walking with two other people, one with silver hair and one with blue hair that strangely seemed to be made of flames.

— Those are...

— Yuu and Floyd? — Kalim finished.

— But behind them are also the first and second years? What's going on? What kind of anime comedy scene is this? — the curious-haired boy quickly muttered.

— It seems like they're playing tag — Silver said.

— I don't think so. Floyd-shi gaze looks somewhat scary.

— But why are they running towards the direction of the cliff? — Kalim said

— WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, YUU! — Cater scream

Idia and Silver were expectant as they watched Cater and Kalim run with the others in an attempt to stop a human without magic.

— What is happening to this school?

When he felt Floyd's fingers rolling around his neck, Yuu jumped again... But this time to the cliff. Something that made all his acquaintances scream in horror and take out their wands in an attempt to catch him with magic.

But unlike them, he wasn't terrified.

Yuu knew he was heading to a cliff, but that cliff was special. He realized that even though it was on the side of the school, the path to get there was terribly long. This was because it was a bit higher than the campus, making it impossible for students to take shortcuts like climbing the school walls to get there faster.

Of course, something like that was no impediment to a Zaunite.

Floyd, as well as the others, crashed into the walls only to see Yuu slide down the eaves that linked the school to his dormitory.

Even though it was awfully steep and one wrong move could send Yuu rolling down. He slid masterfully as if he was already used to it and arrived at his dorm with a smile on his face.

He turned around to see everyone, both his friends and the second years. He couldn't help but smile at their expectant faces.

Yes, just like in the fissures.

In the end he was scolded by both the principal, the teachers and his friends (especially Riddle) as well as receiving expressions of astonishment from Floyd, Jade, Kalim and Cater for such a feat.

It's been a while since I finished the second season of Arcane. I don't like LOL but the series hooked me with its animation, world, story and characters.

Piltover has its thing, but Zaun became one of my favorite regions (I didn't like living there) but its aesthetics are easy, cyberpunk with a biopunk and Steampunk style.

Its champions also became my favorites, Jinx, Ekko, Vi and Viktor. (And although it's not in the series but in the game Renata)

Wow, beautiful characters. Therefore, I leave here my two cents about a yuu from Zaun.

I hope you like its.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twst x reader #twst yuu #twst x male reader #arcane

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tinytennisskirt · 4 months ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

summary: the motions of patrick zweig, sleeping around for a place to stay, finding culinary genius! reader who owns a bakery- and things don’t go as planned, but he couldn’t end up more grateful for it.

warnings: cutesy. unsuspected feelings. lots of flirting. player/dirtbag turned boyfriend! patrick <333 kissinggg. smut! fingering, mentions of oral. sex. the L word. lots of fluff, and a very sweet ending.

- Patrick is not the kind of guy who denies himself a dessert. He’s not one of those sports guys obsessed with macros and calories. He knows moderation, he knows he’s an active guy who can afford to get himself something. He’s in his car, still living in it, when he passes a new bakery. He’s just spent money on food and gas, so he’s not able to head in, but it looks like a cute little place and he promises to check it out when he has the spare cash.

- he’s still whoring himself out for a place to stay. he can’t afford not to. he’s spending time on tinder, swiping as he lays himself down in the back seat. something is up with the settings, he’s getting older women. like older older. geriatric, almost. they’re probably established and have houses, but he does have some standards. he goes to the age settings and sets it back. or somewhat close to it. he’s including 18-up. he sits up a little frustrated, looking at these 18 year old girls and swiping to maybe find someone with a better age. there’s 23, 22, 27… 27 wasn’t so bad.

- it’s you. and you’re pretty. the kind of pretty patrick knows that he doesn’t deserve, but when he swipes a yes on you, you’ve already swiped yes on him as well. it’s a match. he takes that and shuts off his phone, going to sleep.

- he wakes up to a text on tinder from you, it’s recent, he woke up two minutes after you first texted. it’s only ‘hiii’. he sits up, texts you back. you’re not far at all, he’s got a date with you tonight at some local italian bar.

- he’s wearing a sweater when he meets you at the bar. his best one. usually he’s not too picky about it but you’re prettier than his usual exploit. so why not enjoy it? he looks friendly, approaching you with a smile and his hand extended, freshly out of his jean pocket. you’re prettier in person, he notes, shaking your hand, letting it linger just a half-second extra in yours.

- you’re in something pretty, but casual. tall boots, a sweater that hangs off your shoulder, and a little skirt that wasn’t all that little. modest, something he isn’t used to. the most modest women he’d dated had been the shameless dates that he desperately asked for, the poor women sometimes coming straight from work. you have a winning smile and your hand is soft and he sits next to you at the bar, exchanging his name for yours properly.

- “so you play tennis professionally?” you ask, leaning on your hand. you’re smiling at him and you are so sweet. “are you any good?”

“i’d say so.” he grins. “might be.”

“you could be sooo bad at tennis and you’d still be better than me,” you tell him. “anything that stands out in your career? i’m so curious.”

he tsked, looking at his drink in front of him. you were interested in him, wanted to talk about him. the ego boost he needed. “won the junior us open a few years back.” he said. it wasn’t that impressive but tell it to someone who doesn’t know tennis and it sounds like a feat.

“how long ago were you considered junior?” you smiled a little slyly. he’s never been caught on that before. “how old did you say you were.”

he smirked, just a little stuck. “thirty-five.”

“so a while ago.” you smiled. “i don’t know anything about tennis, i’ll keep pretending for you.” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink with a cute little grin. you were a little bit spicy along with the sweet, he could get behind that. literally.

- he’s talking to you and you’re swirling your drink around with a sly little smile and you’re cute in a way where he’s just a little curious about your character. you’re more than one-sided and it’s intriguing but he doesn’t want it to get so far. he’s here to fuck you at your place, stay over, and leave with his shoes in his hand in the morning. he makes small talk, his face close to yours, the banter enticing and sexy but still somewhat tame. you had a personality, a good one, one he liked. sometimes it was just a little too easy and you weren’t. you were more of a riddle, something he wanted to figure out.

- you had a twinkle in your eye. flirting came naturally to you, you were almost at his level. the conversation continued over forty-five minutes and two easy drinks.

- the bar food you ordered comes in a really badly plated, ugly little container with the food attached to the tissue. you pick up a piece, looking at it. “we’re not eating this.” you say, finishing your drink. “c’mon.” and you hop off the bar stool.

patrick looks at you, looks at the food in front of the two of you. he was hungry, this was how he was getting his food for today. he’d eat it… “hm?”

“come with me.” you said, putting down the money for his drink and yours. he had just scrapped together just enough to pay for your drinks, but he didn’t stop you. “we aren’t eating bar food.”

this hasn’t ever happened to him. he stood up, looking at you just a little confused, but a sly smirk resting on his lips. you were leaving with him already- what did that mean? “where are we going?” he’d been here for about an hour and you were getting him to leave with you, he thought you weren’t easy.

“you’ll see. come on, come on, you’re so slow,” you giggled, leading him out and onto the street. “mmm, i know what you’re thinking.”

“yeah?”

“she’s easy.” you said. “she’s easy and she’s leaving with me.”

he chuckled, “i wasn’t.” he was. he walked beside you on the traffic side of the sidewalk. it wasn’t his usual conquest, but he’d take it.

“i am not easy, however, things come easily to me.” you grinned. he rubbed his chin just a little, looking at you as you walked. it was late, but you lead him into one of the little asian supermarkets that were somehow open 24/7. “like guessing. you’re a steak guy, hm?”

“might be…” he nodded, looking around. you knew exactly where you were going, it seemed, the way you walked so quickly that he didn’t have time to see anything up close before you were in the meat section. “why?”

“peppercorn?”

“yeah.” it had been a good few years since he’d had steak. he had his hands in his pocket as you picked up the packaged meat and put it into one of the thin little plastic bags. you spun away from the meat section and over to the vegetables. you picked up a pack of mushrooms and two zucchini.

“you like vegetables?”

“what’s the green one?”

“zucchini.” you smiled. “oh my god, you’ve never had it. perfect.”

he was so lost, just following you. he wasn’t going to leave but this was definitely weird. you were cute, bounding around in your sweater, grabbing a few other things. a clove of garlic and some other little bottle of something.

- you check out at the counter and it’s more money than he’s seen in two years. you’re not rich, he knows that, he would have known it. he’s still just so lost and you turn to him as you walk out of the store. “bored yet?” you asked.

“not at all,” he nods. “can i ask about this?”

“yes, you can ask about it.” you tell him.

“you usually take your dates grocery shopping?”

“that’s not asking about it,” you reply, with a smile, turning at the corner. he’s following you, a grin on his own face. you’re cheeky. and your sweater is falling further down your shoulder. he takes a bag to help you carry it. the things he does for a place to stay… “and no, not usually.”

he chuckles, “so…”

“so you’re lucky i hate bar food.”

he laughs, quietly muttering, ‘what the fuck’. but he’s glad, he’s into it. you’re different.

- you continue to lead him and you stop outside the bakery he noted just yesterday. shiny, new, and you have keys. you have the keys. you work here. “you coming?” you ask him. you’re holding the door open for him. he takes the door from you and you slink inside, walking around to turn the lights on. the blinds are shut and the lighting is pretty. fairy lights on the wall, wall lamps, all yellow and pretty.

“you work here?”

“something like that,” you smile, bringing the food back into the kitchen. he follows, looking over everything. “i might own it…”

“might?”

“maybe…” you smile. he’s a little taken aback by that, but it’s occurring to him he didn’t ask what you do. you’re a baker.

he grins, sliding around you as you bend to grab things from the cupboards. a cutting board, a knife, and you start running the big sink in the corner. he watches you quietly as you tie your hair up off your neck and pull your sweater off over your head. you have a pretty little tank top underneath, square neckline and thick straps. he’s never been so far away from a girl while she strips. you turn to him, “i don’t bite.” you grin. he notices how quiet he’s gone.

“no? i was counting on it.”

“yeah?” you say, unsheathing your chefs knife. he steps closer to you, smirk on his face. he’s a shameless guy, he’s not afraid of your rejection. but you grab a zucchini and press it against his chest. a long, thick, suggestive vegetable, but you kindly, and slowly, with a seductive tone to your voice and looking up at him through your eyelashes… tell him to help you cut it up.

- you’re cooking for him, he figures out. you’re cooking food. real food, just on a whim. it’s kind of you to a point that he feels just the slightest bit bad about what his intentions are. “you do this for every guy? steak and vegetables?”

“you’re just the odd lucky one.” you tell him, adding the vegetables to the pan. the meat is done. “food, real food is so important. taste is important as well as the sanitization process- it’s so easy to get food poisoning from a bar. here, less likely.“

“good to know.” he said, his back against the counter next to you, watching you cook. it smelled amazing. “i appreciate it.” he was genuine. not only did you save him from potential food poisoning, but you saved him from being hungry tonight. “thanks.”

“i am sorry it’s not a cheap bar date, if that’s really what you’re into.”

“i don’t usually get dragged to bakeries at 10pm, it’s a good change.”

you stir the vegetables around, “so you date a lot?”

“i wouldn’t say a lot…” he says. “enough.”

- you talk to him about that. you ask if he’s dating to date or dating for potential and he just smiles. how can he tell the woman making him dinner from scratch that he’s not looking for anything serious?

- you nod, deducting his answer from his lack of answer. you’re cleaning as you go and you plate up the food all perfect and pretty and hand it to him. you clean the last dish and put everything back. “i really hope you like it or i just yanked you away from perfectly bad bar food.”

“i’m going to like it. thank you, this is amazing.” he tells you. he drops the sly act, he can’t keep it up over the fact you made him food. real food. good food. he’s been starving. he could kiss you right now. he probably would have, shamelessly, if there wasn’t a plate between the two of you. he decides against it.

- you sit down with him at one of the cafe tables, watching him eat the first bite. then the second with hardly enough time between. it’s delicious, he makes a mental note to put effort in when he fucks you later. you giggle just a little, “it’s not going anywhere.”

“m’sorry-it’s good,” he says, mouth full. it’s a turn off, but for a cook and a baker, its one of the best things. you lean your cheek on your hand again, it kind of smushes your face and patrick’s only thoughts are that the steak is good and that you’re pretty. pretty is different than gorgeous. you’re gorgeous too, of course, but you’re pretty because you’re cute. you’re cute. and it’s weird to think so. when you were down to meet him so quickly, on such short notice, he thought this would be something fast. he tells himself that he’s only feeling differently because this date is taking longer than his usual. by now he’s usually inside of whoever he’s gone out with.

- his lack of table manners is something you can afford to not mind. he’s tall, he’s got nice curls, a nice beard, a good nose, and a gorgeous grin. he’s asking you questions about your bakery and it’s surprising to him too when he realizes he’s been actually listening. the conversation at hand is engaging and he’s into it probably as much as he’s into you.

- “so the tennis thing, you still do that? like all the time?” you asked him, twirling your fork between your fingers.

“all the time.” he nodded back. “not as much as i used to when i was on tour. it’s good though. i get by on challengers.”

“they pay you?” he nods back and takes another bite of his food. “how much usually? is that rude?”

he grins, you’re polite. “not rude-mm- depends on the challenger. sometimes hundreds or around a thousand if you win the whole thing.”

“yeah? that’s not bad. some pocket money,” you smiled, taking another bite. for patrick, it wasn’t pocket money, it was all his money. “i wish baking brought you places. i would love to travel but i spent almost all i had to stay still. to get this place- and to get all the things to go in it.”

“it looks great,” he replied, nodding. “is it doing well so far?” who was he? invested in you? your life? your success? he was almost done with his meal.

“it is.” you smiled. you were pretty, grinning so wide over your passion. “it’s a lot of work, this is the only night i’ve had off in a while. i am usually… in bed by now. i have early starts. i’m a grandma, i know.”

he grinned, “i don’t mind.”

- dinner ends and patrick doesn’t let you get the dishes. you follow him back into the kitchen and you let him wash the dishes while you rinse, then sanitize, then dry. drying his hands, he squeezed past you, hands on your waist as he passes you. you turn around, just a little jumpy. you’re jumpy. something possesses him to say sorry. and mean it. “no, it’s okay, i just…” he’s not imagining the pink in your cheeks. god you’re so cute, it’s disturbing some part of him he didn’t know was active. you cover your mouth and turn back to the dishes, stacking them neatly.

- patrick is honestly ready to leave. he could go, he’d sleep in his car, it was fine. but walking out on you felt wrong. after that meal… you’re in the fridge, looking around on your tiptoes. “i was so sure i had something chocolate in here. it’s not on this shelf… it’s not on…” he comes into the fridge behind you, met by the cold air. he reaches above you.

“this it?” he asks, gesturing to the row of chocolate desserts. you nod. he advances, moving the closest he’s been to you- his cologne, a little bit musky and a hint of cigarettes hits your nose. usually you wouldn’t allow heavy scents near your food, but he smelled so good maybe it slipped your mind.

- he eats like a starved man. he really does. he’s so grateful, beyond, to have something so good for free. to him, you’re an angel sent to cure his hunger. you clean up for the last time.

“do you want to come up for coffee?” you ask him.

“come up?”

“my apartment is upstairs,” you smile and it’s kind and its not laced with any sort of lust the way most women ask for him to come over to theirs. “come up? i have beer if that’s more your speed.”

he grins, leaning toward you. he’s taller than you by a good bit. and he’s gorgeous. and your heart skips. “if you’re offering.”

“i just might be.” you twist from side to side. he’s so smitten by you. you’re hot but you’re kind and you’re sexy as hell and you know that, but you don’t act like you know it.

- you bring him upstairs and he’s looking over everything you have in your dimly lit, yellowy apartment. you have a lot of things to observe, but you beckon him to the couch while you get him a beer from your fridge. you’re not drinking anything. you just sit next to him on your knees, leaning against the back of your couch. he thanks you. he means it.

“it’s a nice place.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “you own it? or do you rent?”

“i own it. i’ve been working since i was young and my parents hardly ever let me spend a penny.” you tell him. he’s impressed. more than. “it smells like brownies permanently, i think.”

he smiles, watching you look around. his eyes fall on your lips, on your body. “mm no, smells like you.” he states, eyes falling on the little painting of a cake on the wall.

you giggle, “me? my perfume?”

“mmm no.” he said. “you smell good.”

“thank you,” you grinned. “so do you.”

he chuckled against the lip of his beer bottle, dimples showing. “so you really don’t cook for all your dates?”

“i never have before, no.” you say, hiding half your face as if you’re shy. “i’m sorry if it was a bit much. or forward of me. i’m just so against bar food, it’s a culinary disgrace and i just… i like my kitchen. and i love to cook.”

“i’m not complaining,” he replied. he set his beer down.

- you got to talking about food and he told you all about the phase he had where he’d get taco bell every tuesday. you’re not a fast food person. he knows that. but you’re laughing in disgust when he tells you the things he used to get and it feels oddly worth it. he’s inching closer to you in conversation, leaning in more every minute. and you’re talking very closely and all of your expressions are so beautiful. more than pretty or cute or gorgeous, you are beautiful.

- your hands are resting on his knee. both of them, overlapping each other. he’s smirking at you, the sly remark you just made with the most innocent eyes. it’s getting later into the night, it’s almost 1am. the date is going on a lot longer than he thought. you were probably going to make him leave soon. he hasn’t even kissed you. he could have to shut you up. you talked a lot but you were very passionate and you also dove into a lot about him. he could have shut you up. he wasn’t against kissing spontaneously to get what he wanted but he was listening to you… he wanted to hear what you had to say.

- the night continued and you had your head rested against the back of the couch, listening to him talk about tennis. when he stopped, you’d ask another question about gameplay so he’d keep talking and you just listened. and he was enjoying it. more than anything he’d enjoyed in a long while. and as you continued to get tired, so does he. he wants to kiss you, he tells himself he will, he’ll definitely kiss you when you finish your sentence and no. you both, tired, slowly fall asleep. it’s a mistake that he passed on coffee for beer.

- it’s the most connection he’s had with anyone in a while. the way you spoke to him was different, was fun, was filled with your personality and your sweetness. your head fell on his chest and you slept the night on the couch like that. at least it wasn’t his car.

- he wakes up first to the girl who he didn’t fuck or even kiss laying on his chest. it’s a trap is the first thought in his head. how did he get to stay over without fucking you? some loophole. he ignores the fact he was too invested in you as a person to do anything. though he wished he did, you’re perfect.

- you wake up and you sit up like nothing happened. “fuck.” you sigh, rubbing your eye. “fell asleep.” you smile. “hi.”

“hey,” he replied and he’s unable to stop the smile he has in response. “i think i’ll take that coffee now if you’re offering.”

“was just about to ask,” you grinned. you got up, your hair just a little messy, and hopped over to the kitchen to make the coffee. like you didn’t spend a night on a stranger’s chest. like you didn’t just wake up on top of him. he liked that about you. “do you take cream, milk, sugar?”

patrick got up from the couch, walked over to you. “black.” he said. “hey- about that-“

“don’t worry about it.” you smile. “it got so late, i don’t even remember falling asleep.”

he wouldn’t have apologized but something about sleeping over without fucking you just felt selfish and unfair. like he didn’t pay for it. and he felt even more that way because not only had you fed him, but you had cooked for him. his way of thinking was fucked but it was how it was. “you’re sweet.” you said.

“hm?”

“you’re sweet. you care too much, though.” you tell him. nobody has ever said those words to him in his life. he grins. “sense of adventure. sleeping on a stranger’s couch by accident and the cause being passionate conversation.”

“it’s definitely something,” he takes the coffee from you. “thanks.” how is he supposed to leave now? coffee in hand.

“and i know you’re not looking for anything serious, so don’t read too much into it. i’ll do that for you.” you were so cheeky and he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. you took down your hair, letting it fall. he should have fucked you…

- you talk as you make breakfast. you don’t mention that you’re doing so, but you are and he won’t stop you. he should be on his way, but you’re talking to him and he’s listening and he just can’t bring himself to make up an excuse to go. you’re as sweet as the things you make and it’s hard to ignore the fact that you are different. maybe it’s the fact he’s not currently clouded by lust, the need to have you in that way isn’t very forefront, seeing as he had a place to stay without it.

- “waffles or pancakes? because every time i ask this, i get someone’s bullshit answer. there’s a very real answer to this.”

“really? and what if i’m wrong?”

“then no food.” you say, pointing at him with your spatula. “okay go.”

“waffles.” he says.

“mmm nope.” you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “you’re a victim of the syrup puddle delusion. pancakes are sooo much better, they are so absorbent. it’s the only way to go. especially with chocolate chip.” and the conversation is dumb. but you’re young, he can’t expect you to be all serious. it’s new and it’s fresh and it’s fun. you’re fun.

- noon hits and he’s helping you clean. “i’m sorry if i’ve held you hostage,” you tell him, setting aside the freshly cleaned plates. “hope you know you were free to go hours ago.”

“i knew, i knew,” he chuckled. “it’s not every day a professional wants to hold you hostage and cook for you.”

“so you just want me for my cooking. typical. typical,” you tease. “here i thought you were different.”

“the cooking is a bonus. not that your food isn’t amazing, it is. really fucking good. it’s also not often i like who’s cooking it.”

“oh my god you like me? really?” you tease him. it’s cute.

“shhh, okay,” he nods. he’s not a liar. “yeah. i think so.”

“crazy.” you whisper, dragging your hand over his arm and back as you walk past him, smiling. you’re different, you’re doing things that are making him feel things deeper than he probably should. he tells himself it’s just because it’s longer than he thought- but he did wake up with his arms around you… that’s something he’s never done with any woman he’s ever slept with, intentional or not. but he also didn’t sleep with you, sleep with you.

- he says goodbye around 1pm. he’s overstayed for sure but you don’t show any signs of it. and the conversation was never boring. it was a lot of talking and as he stood at the exit of the bakery, people trying to brush by him to get in (other staff were working obviously), he couldn’t even get the chance to kiss you goodbye. not even that. though as he walked back to his car, he found that he really had wanted to.

- he’s back on tinder later. a place to stay is a place to stay. he’s got a process and he’s safe, he didn’t sleep with you. he’s scrolling, but suddenly he’s extra picky. it’s weird. all these ideal matches, women he’d be fine with are suddenly just not it. you’re not out of his mind, but that’s fine, another woman would erase you. no problem. if only he could pick one, find one… if all else fails he’d go to a bar and find one there.

- he doesn’t. he gives up. he sleeps in his car. and he’s thinking about you. how you brought him back to your business, cooked a whole meal for him, a nice meal, an expensive one, let him sleep over, and made you breakfast and you let him slip out the door. was that casual for you? he couldn’t help but to think about it, about you. about how the closest he got to you was while you were both asleep. it was an occurrence that just… didn’t happen in the day to day. he fell asleep before he could do anything, that was rare, that was comfortable, that was… strange. and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. a day passes in between.

- he’s unsurprised when you message again a day later, but glad. the sun is setting, he has to move his phone to avoid the orange glare.

y: hey :)

p: hi, how are you?

y: i’m good, how are you?

p: the same.

y: what are you up to?

p: not much. just finished at the court.

he lied, of course. he had to come across as busy, that’s just how it was when girls called back. too busy.

y: ooh fun.

y: any chance you want to swing by? i baked something new and i need a test audience.

how could he say no? free food was free food… he climbed into the front seat and put his keys in the ignition. and he was going to see you again.

- he came in, different jeans, different shirt. a t-shirt this time, black. biceps and forearms on display. your bakery is busy and smells like fresh bread and chocolate and there you are, smiling, gorgeous, helping a little girl hold the baked goods for her mom, teaching her to hold the bag ‘nice and straight’. he catches your eye, wandering in, looking at the atmosphere when it’s full of people. “patrick, hi,” you smile, coming out from behind the counter.

he once again can’t help but grin back at you. “hey. wow. it’s busy.”

“it is, it is, but we close in an hour, so it’ll die down. i didn’t think you’d be here now, i mean, i texted like ten minutes ago…”

it dawns on him that he just launched into action at your call. well, fuck. that didn’t look so good for him. he chuckled to himself, a little embarrassed. “i might have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“for me,” you grin, teasing.” no, i get it, who doesn’t?”

he chuckles, “uh-huh, okay, yeah- i wouldn’t know.”

“thought so,” you say, and you take his hand, leading him into the back, where your little chefs are doing their last tasks, cleaning up for the day. “m’kay, come here. try this.” you pick up a fork grab him a bite and you’re driving it to his mouth. he’s got no choice but to eat it. he does, laughing at how you just force fed him something, but his expression changes as how good it is. “it’s good?”

he speaks with his mouth still full- “it’s so good, what the fuck?”

you grin. it’s the first of many times he’s going to be force fed new items, he just doesn’t know that just yet. “you like it? really?”

“mmm- really, yeah. what is that?”

“it’s cinnamon and chocolate with a vanilla base to mimic simple pastry. its got a bit of a fudge to the chocolate and the cinnamon is freshly ground. it’s a cupcake inspired by a churro.” you jump up and down just a little. he could kiss you for this.

“can i buy this off you right now?”

“bold to think you can buy anything off of me.” you scoff, picking up one of the tray. you grab the icing spatula and quickly spread the light brown icing over it and reach over to a little dark brown bottle. you drizzle the dark liquid over it and sprinkle something on top and hand it to him.

“i’ve got ten dollars in my pocket,”

“thought you were just happy to see me,” you mock-sighed, then smiled. “no way i’m letting you pay, that’s crazy. you’re my tester.”

he rolled his eyes a little, smiling back. “just might be over this cupcake.”

“really?” you stepped a little closer, cupcake in hand, looking up at him. you were sexy, and you made it look innocent- it was bad, it was really bad, there were too many people here to do what he wanted to do. he twisted his mouth to the side, trying not to smile too much. “we close in thirty.”

“thought you said an hour?”

“thirty.” you replied, grabbing the oven gloves and taking a few final things out, beginning to wrap things. “i’ll be up in twenty if you want to go up? grab anything in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

you really did lure him back to you with food. he grinned to himself, nodding and heading upstairs they way he knew how from last time.

- he does help himself to the cucumber in your fridge. he figures you’ll miss it least and it’ll tide him over. it’s weird being in someone’s apartment without them. especially after only knowing them a few hours. but it’s worth it, you come with free food and a place to potentially stay. he tells himself that, anyway. he’s using you. or so he tells himself.

- he takes the time to walk around your apartment, seeing more than just the living room couch. you aren’t the most neat person ever, but you keep your things where they need to be. he peeks into your room, looking at the curtains that drape the windows, the big bed, the bedside table with so many things on it. soon enough you’re upstairs, he’s on your couch again. you open the door and the scent of the bakery downstairs floods your apartment. he’s almost sane about the way you take your hair down and unbutton your cardigan. he’s pretending like you aren’t hot. and when you sit on the couch next to him you sit closely. “hi.”

“hey.”

“do you drink wine? red wine?”

“only if i’m not drinking it alone.”

you laugh, “it’s more for me than for you. i need it after today.”

“fair.” he followed you with his eyes as you climbed over the back of the couch and into the kitchen, reaching for the wine bottle. “so it was a busy day. i knew you’d get customers, but that was wild.”

“very,” you screwed the bottle open and got two glasses and you filled them up generously. “we had a little girl come in and she dropped her dad’s entire order and he asked that we make him more for free. i had to explain that we couldn’t do that- it was around $200 wasted on the floor. he was sooo angry.”

patrick met you in the kitchen and you handed him a glass of wine. “so what did you end up doing?”

“i kicked him out.” you said, drinking the wine. “i don’t like disrespectful people- he demanded i make more, even after i offered a different cake.”

“good for you.” patrick nodded. “i wouldn’t take that either. guy wouldn’t even take the cake you offered?”

you finished your generous glass. he wouldn’t judge. “no. which is crazy considering the cake matched his fucking price- god it makes me so mad. he wouldn’t even take what i, myself, spent time and money on.”

patrick enjoyed your passion. “if it would make you feel better, i probably would have eaten the ruined product.”

“should i have called on you earlier for clean up? maybe then it wouldn’t have felt so much like a waste.” you laughed. “i actually wasn’t sure if i should at all.- sorry, the wine- that was weird of me to say.”

he shook his head, “not weird. it’s fair. i don’t usually text post-date.”

“mmm. it didn’t go well enough? holy fuck- i am so sorry, i should not chug wine.”

he laughed, stepping just a little closer. “no it’s just… hm.” he stopped himself. “it was actually one of the best dates i’ve been on in a while.”

“you waited for me to call on you again? like a girl?”

“no, i just.. i don’t usually go on second dates.”

“oh.” you nodded, pouring yourself more wine and topping his off. “but you showed up.”

“maybe i’m just here for the wine and baked goods.”

you lean your back against the counter but somehow you’re closer to him. maybe he took a step forward. either way… “don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone about your soft spot for me.”

he smirked, “who said anything about a soft spot?”

you lean just a little more toward him. “don’t tell me i actually lured you back here with food. i think you like me.”

“yeah? guess i need a better poker face then, hm?”

you sipped again, “or… you could admit that you like my company. or me. either one. both.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

you rolled your eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear. “oh, fun. you’re looking for fun.” you nod, setting your glass on the counter and hopping up on it. patrick takes the extra space that you used to stand in and he’s still taller than you sitting on the counter. he smells good like he did the other day, cologne and cigarettes and to him. you note the biceps and you didn’t get to see when he wore a sweater the other night. they’re nice… he looks over you still, close to you. “nothing more than fun?”

“maybe a little more than fun.”

“oh? and it’s not the wine?”

“no, it’s not the wine,” he scratches the back of his head.

“soooo…?”

“might be you.”

you giggled, cheering just a little. “oh my god, he admits it. this is crazy, should i bake a cake? what do i win, a third date?”

“you’re ambitious,” he grins, stepping closer to you. his body is between your knees, he’s looking down at you. your heart picks up pace.

“tell me to my face you don’t ever want to see me again.”

“i can’t do that.”

“thought so.”

- he leans forward the same way you tilt your head up. he’s got that sick little smirk on his lips and his eyes fall from your eyes to your lips.

“so third date?”

“maybe,” he’s getting closer. his body is as close to yours as it can be without being completely pressed against. your legs are on either side of his hips, it’s suggestive, it’s sexy, and you are smiling like you’re proud of yourself for something. he taps under your chin, “fine.”

you smile wider, eyes meeting his lips as well. you’re no better than him. especially after that chin tap. he could rush into this, kiss you hard, but there’s something about the slowness that is enticing and hot. your eyelids and his both close just slightly, half-lidded, his nose brushes yours, your wine glass is heard being set back down on the counter. his scent mixed with the wine on his breath is intoxicating in itself.

- the phone rings. loud. it’s loud and it’s startling and it ruins everything. usually he wouldn’t give up at something like that but it’s… you. and it was ruined. he could have kissed you and he didn’t because it wasn’t perfect. which was strange. because usually he wouldn’t give that much of a fuck. he backed away and you looked at him apologetically, slipping off the counter, your hand trailing down his arm as you did, before getting the phone. it’s one of your product suppliers calling because he thought you were still open. you laugh, apologizing to the supplier.

- patrick feels like he should leave. usually it’s so cut and dry, he goes on the date, he goes back, he fucks, he leaves. it’s a simple process and it works. but you are you and you’re different and he hasn’t even kissed you and he’s standing in your kitchen waiting for you to finish on the phone after a near-first kiss. now the regular him in his regular pattern wouldn’t count any kiss with a number but you’ve got some grip on him that he can’t deny. even got him to say yes to a third date. his hand in his pocket. who is he to deny himself anything?

- he feels like a horny teenager with a girl whose parents are in the driveway. it’s not the time for a kiss, he’s listening to your conversation and it seems like there’s a calculating issue.

- he’s standing, red wine glass in hand. he’s looking over the ladybug magnets on your fridge. he takes a sip, then places the glass on the counter. he hears the click of the phone back on it’s base and turns to look at you, “where were we?” you ask, hopping back over to him and pulling him in by his shirt. he didn’t see that coming, but gladly, his lips are on yours. it’s a strong kiss, he’s pressed against you, bent just a little because he’s too tall. your hands holding his face, your hips connecting with his. he grabs your waist, keeping you there. his hands are strong and guiding and they are surprisingly still. and it’s a kiss. a long kiss. surprisingly long to patrick who is used to a multitude of messy kisses in the heat of a moment. this moment is heated differently. and the kiss is long and hard with gentle breaks between for breaths and it’s just… nice. he tastes the way he smells and apparently so do you. unsurprisingly sweet with the taste of wine.

- you pull away first. not him. you. he would keep kissing you if you didn’t stop. his lips stay parted and you hover over them a second longer before you pull away entirely. “so about that third date… i think we should-“

- he sits with you on the couch again and he asks you about you. your bakery stories. your culinary school stories. and he’s laughing and so are you and the bottle of wine is done for and you haven’t even kissed again. he wants to kiss you. he’s staring at your lips and he wants to kiss you again. he can’t stop thinking about how it felt. who knew a kiss without sex was still so fucking good? he hadn’t kissed anyone like since- well since Tashi, but Tashi wasn’t ever feeling the same way on the other end of things but you so were. you were and this made for probably one of his top five kisses. top three. top two.

- the third date is at a restaurant you deem ‘good’ and when dinner is over, he walks you back to your apartment above the bakery and you kiss him at the door. another good kiss. shorter than the first. it’s somehow only your second kiss and he’s known you for about a week. but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to know all of the things about you. soon enough you have plans to see each other again.

- it’s over lava cake now. you tried two different recipes and you need him to try both and he’s completely down. you sit on the counter and you make him open his mouth to give him the bites you’ve perfectly prepared with the side of fresh strawberries and it’s erotic, somehow, the way your thumb moves over his lower lip to remove the excess chocolate. not only that, but you put your thumb in your own mouth. you’re teasing him. you’re evil, he deducts.

“better or worse than the first?”

“shuttt uppp,” he drags it out as he kisses you. what is known to him as the third kiss between you. kissing you with no intention of bringing you to your bed is something addictive. maybe it’s just you. the way you kiss him. your hand travels up the back of his neck and into his hair and you’re grinning when you part for air, his hands are on your waist and he’s pressed against you. it’s hard to stop kissing you. he finds it every time. you taste like chocolate and strawberries.

- you kiss him, letting his hand slide up the back of your shirt, his warm hands on your skin. you pull away, “you want to go upstairs?” you breathe.

“i still have to compare the two.”

“there’s better things upstairs to eat, i promise,” you grin. “was that so bad.”

“that was not so bad but from you i think it might be.”

“oh i knew it, but i had to make the joke at some point.” you smile and he smiles back at you before kissing you again. and he just kisses you. over and over and over. and he never even goes upstairs that night.

- he gets to kiss you more often. you see him more often. he’s over at yours or you go to a park and it’s just nice. the consistency is surprisingly nice and he doesn’t even mind sleeping in his car, he’s got something good going. he hasn’t had sex in a while but it’s worth it, really worth it. he didn’t want to ditch the lifestyle but it was you and you were smart and kind and a little bit mean in a sexy way and he was only getting older. he deleted tinder.

- he’s kissing you, “patrick- I have to- go back- downstairs,” he’s kissing you all he can to get you to stay. He slept over on the couch and you brought him coffee and a bakery croissant so he’s not letting you go. it’s a work day. he knows that. he pulls you onto the couch with him and you’re giggling, saying that you really need to get back to work, but his hand his gently squeezing your chest and sliding over your waist so you can spare a few minutes. you kiss like teenagers, a lot of touching but nothing too serious. patrick is a fan of the change of pace, of the anticipation, of you, so he’ll gladly kiss you until your lips are pink and puffy with no sexual gratification. it’s nice to be able to sleep over without that obligation.

- when you’re across from him at dinner, you ask him what you are. and his brain is telling him to say something fake, protect himself, protect the player motif, but his heart is so in it. he has a big heart and a lot to give and it’s been misplaced far too fucking often. so his brain decides to tell him to go with his heart and he asks if you want to call yourself his girlfriend. he hasn’t had a girlfriend since Tashi. and that was fucking ages ago. you are the first person able to crack him enough into something that could be serious. at first he thinks maybe you’re not into it, but you grin. “so that makes you my boyfriend…”

“yeah,” he nods, mouth pinched a little to avoid the pending grin. “that work for you?”

“i’ll have to check with my other two boyfriends, but i think it’ll be fine.”

- he chases you up the stairs to your apartment and kisses you against the door even with the threat of falling all the way back down all those steps. you manage to get the door open and you pull him inside before pulling away from the kiss and kicking off your shoes as you run from him. he chases you just a little, enough, you’re giggling as you throw your cardigan on the couch. patrick is opposite of you with the couch between so it could go either way so he jumps the couch, catching you and kissing you, picking you up, the billowy skirt you’re in sliding up your legs as they wrap around him. you kiss him, captured in his arms and he presses you to another wall, then another, and then he’s crawling over you in your bed. he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone. he’s never had the intention to touch someone with such gentle hands. its always been rough, always lust-laced. not here, not how.

- and it isn’t even sex. it’s just touching, heavy petting. it’s your denial of it that makes him want you so much more as your hand moves up and down his length. he’s big, you note that, it kind of scares you a little in the ‘how is that supposed to fit’ kind of way, but it’s good. you’re good with your hands, it’s probably from all the dough-kneading you’ve had to do in your lifetime. he’s weak for you and you only. you really were taking this slowly and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. his hands slide over the skin of your waist, over your ass, coming back to your front, pushing aside your underwear, fingers that rub your clit and make you gasp. he’s experienced, you know that, but you kiss him and he tastes like smoke and you can forget it. besides, you know you’ve already won him over. his fingers slip inside of you and it’s dawns on him that you are probably one of the best things to happen to him in a while. aside from sex, the lack thereof is something so enticing, so fucking intoxicating, and the way you moan his name without him having to truly be inside of you, it’s so rewarding. he thinks he might just stay, as if he hasn’t already agreed to it.

- dating you comes with gaining a few pounds, that’s a no-brainer. you feed him well. how can he say no when everything you cook is so fucking good and there’s never a lack of dessert around? with tennis still in the picture he’s turning most of it into muscle, but that doesn’t stop him from getting just a little bit softer. he hasn’t slept in his car in three days, he’s in your bed and you’re laying on his chest, your hands tracing gently patterns on the skin of his stomach, tracing the hair down his abdomen to the v of his crotch and back up again. he’s not even thinking he’s glad to not be sleeping in his car, he’s contented with the fact you’re laying on him the way you are. and he’s only glad to not be in his car because you wouldn’t be there.

- “we never go to your place,” you say to him, “hiding bodies there or something?”

patrick scratches the back of his neck, scrunching up his nose just a little. “uh… something like that. it’s not very finished.”

“when have i ever minded a mess?”

“mmm, never, but i don’t think you’d like it.”

you shook your head, “what if i kissed you? then would you let me come over?”

“you kiss me all the time, what currency is that passive?”

you roll your eyes, “oral.”

“also not hard to come by.”

“prove it.” he’s glad you give him something to do to drop the topic of his living situation.

- he’s coming to understand what a roux is and how to actually make food now that there’s so many ingredients around. you’re teaching him and he’s begging you to come to the court and try tennis, but you tell him you that these things are not comparable. he picks you up and puts you on the counter as always and kisses you into it. maybe his hand slides up your thigh under your skirt. “patrick. we have food in the oven that is almost done, focus.”

he kisses your neck. “will it burn?”

“if you don’t stop, it will.” you smile against his kisses, his hand creeping up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs. “patrick.” your tone is warning but you don’t mean it.

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your lips, his tongue delving between yours. his other hand is on your lower back, bringing you closer to the counter’s edge. he stops in his tracks.

“you’re not wearing anything under this?”

you smile against his lips, “mmm… nope.” and the kissing is only intensified. he pulls you closer and he tilts you back a little so his fingers can push inside of you. they curl perfectly, without sex he’s learned how to navigate you so well. you’re moaning and he’s taking it in like nothing he’s ever had before. this is domestic, this is perfect. he’s so into it, hard in his jeans. he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted and you tease him with open legs and no underwear but you won’t let him fuck you.

- you really do want him to. so badly. god it’s almost a force of its own how badly you need him to. but the excuse this time is that the food is genuinely going to burn which is to your advantage because he picks up the pace at which his fingers are moving so that he can finish what he started before quickly and thoroughly washing his hands and taking the food out of the oven, you just breathe hard. he fixes your skirt so it once again drapes over your legs with a quick smile your way. god, he’s perfect.

- he’s enjoying himself in a way he didn’t know was possible. it brings him a strange joy when you introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend and they’re all impressed when they find out he’s a professional tennis player. “can’t be good for your sport to be fed eclairs all the time,” one of your guy friends joked with him. “you look good though, man. and she looks really happy.”

- it’s not like you wanted the sex to be special. no, you’re not a virgin. it’s not going to be magic. things already do feel pretty good if you’re honest but it’s getting to the point where you’re getting a little too horny to exist properly around each other. you’re adults, you’ve got all the time in the world to be romantic but as of lately it’s been feeling like there’s some magnetic, otherworldly force. patrick himself is slightly denying himself the pleasure because it feels so good to exist in that state of anticipation. you on the other hand, you’ve just been living to tease. you’re not easy, you don’t want to be easy, if you’re easy you turn into every other woman. you take pleasure in making him wait, pulling him close, touching him in ways that he won’t soon forget.

- he watches you at work. comes home from the court, showers and comes back downstairs and you’re busy in the kitchen. your employees have learned to work around you when you stop to kiss him. it’s been a few months of this. he loves how passionate you are about your work and if he’s lucky you’ll walk by his table, bring him coffee or a treat and sometimes you’ll make him try a few things, he never has the option to put it in his mouth himself. you do that little thing he loves, wiping his lip with your finger and taking whatever excess and putting it in your own mouth.

- he helps you close. he turns off all the ovens and he helps to wipe down and sweep. you’re in the kitchen with him alone now and you kiss him every single time he passes you. strong kisses, ones that mean something. paired with maybe a peck or two. every kiss longer than the next. his hands always on your waist, always holding you close against him. he presses you against the wall, you giggle as you shut the blinds with your free hand. “mmm- patrick.”

“yeah?”

“you want to go upstairs?”

“i’m busy,” he replies, kissing your neck. you sigh against him happily.

“patrick.”

“uh-huh?”

“upstairs,” you urge him, eyes meeting his between kisses. “i spend all day down here, upstairs…”

he’s clueless, used to what he’s used to, but he’ll do what you ask, following as you hold his hands up the stairs. “am i cooking tonight or do you still feel like it? i feel like i’ve really got that-“

you kiss him the moment you’re upstairs. it’s been a long day. he takes it happily, but it’s something more. the kisses connect and disconnect with more passion than to let this kiss have no intention. you’re grinning against his lips and he is once again backing you against the wall. his hand cradles behind your head and his tongue is in your mouth. he’s got his other hand on the back of your hip, sliding down over your ass. you hum into it, the breaths between short and pretty, your smiles mutual.

your hand slips up his chest, grabbing the collar of his sweater and using it to kiss him harder. your other hand creeps up the back of his neck. and then you start to pull his sweater up over his head.

- the difference isn’t much. but he gladly takes off his sweater and his shirt. it’s no different. except you push him backward, grinning. he takes it with a smile, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. you push him back to your bed where he falls onto it and you begin to crawl over him. his hands on your waist as he adjusts where he’s sitting, your hand slipping down into his pants. no belt today, you’re lucky. he groans a little breathily as your hand does what it does best. he’s a fan of skirts, hiking it up, you do the very opposite and pull it down, off, thrown somewhere into some void. he sits up, meeting you, cupping your face.

your hand slips back out and you grind against him instead, his kisses varying in length just to be able to breathe out the way he needs. you breathe in his air, humming as you kiss him. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

“take your pants off?”

he chuckles between kisses and lifts you gently just so he can undo his zipper and pull them off. you grin, sitting back against him, grinding just a little. the new friction is good, elicits a larger groan from him. “what do you want from me?” he mumbles.

“do i have to want something?”

“have to want something. whatever it is, it’s yours. i already offered to cook.”

you laugh, kissing him still, “patrick, love.”

“yeah?” you smirk, eyelashes fluttering. his hand slides up your bare hip. “oh, fuck.”

“yeah, about that,” you grin, kissing him again. he groans, his head tilting back as you kiss him harder. he takes it all. it’s you. it’s everything he wants.

- his hands shimmy your underwear down your legs and his fingers meet your clit in seconds. he’s into it, his fingers slip inside you. “you’re so wet,” he mumbles.

“need you.” you mumble back. “please.”

your please is something he’s never gotten before. it’s all real and happening and he’s more than content with the ask. his boxers are off and he flips you onto your back. he’s not going to make you do the work the first time you have sex. he’s waited months to fuck you, he’s doing it himself and he’s doing it right. he knows you keep condoms in your top drawer, he reaches over, grabs one, and rips it open with his teeth. the wrapper flits to the floor.

- he’s big. you know this very well. you’ve thought about it, dreamt about it, fantasized with your hand between your thighs about it, but it’s real and it’s a threat. the thing is he’s not just long. around 7 inches maybe high 6 inches but he’s also thick in girth. you’re kissing and it’s rough but he takes the time to mumble, “is this okay?” he asks like you’re a virgin as his tip bumps your entrance- he pretends it’s not the hottest thing. he pretends you don’t make him weak. you tell him yes and you hold him a little extra close as he starts to push into you. it hurts- you haven’t had anyone inside of you like this in two years maybe. for him it’s been a little less, but it’s felt like forever. he’s never been discontented with your sexual activities but this just beats everything. you’re tight and respectfully, he goes slowly, both of you moaning and grasping for some semblance of reality. the wait is already deemed worth it, him burying his cock in you as far as it’ll go.

- he moves in and out slowly, but you’re not new to this. he soothes you, rubbing up your hip, your upper thigh, “taking it so well. so good. it’s okay?”

“mhm-“ you sigh, “fuck, oh my god.”

it’s more than satisfying. it’s more than he even thought it could be. “you feel so good, so perfect-.” his words make you moan and he takes it happily. he’s increasing his pace, getting harsher with his thrusts and you’re taking it all perfectly. it hurts but masking that under the pleasure of being stretched and filled so completely. “god, you’re-“ he groans into your mouth. so many months without, he could have lasted so much longer if it was in regular practice but you’re tight and you’re moaning in his ear, his name is falling off your lips. “gorgeous…”

“uh-huh,” you smile, kissing him as he fucks you into the mattress. that innocent smile on you that is so knowing, so fucking hot. it’s taking patrick all he can not to finish right then. sex with you is everything. everything. all-consuming, entirely satisfying

- forty minutes of completely sweaty, messy, perfect sex, he’s pulling out, and you’re breathing hard. “oh my god…” you say, rolling back onto your back. “i’ve been going without that?”

patrick smirks at the ceiling before rolling over, looking at you. he met you with the intention of sex with you but looking at you he couldn’t imagine that ever being true. there was no way it would have ever been as good as it just was if he’d pulled his moves all that time ago. it felt like forever. “going without?”

“i liked the tease,” you nod back, smiling just a little. “i’m hungry, are you hungry? i’ll make dinner in a few.”

he smiles at your need to feed him. “just a little.” and he begins to kiss down your bare chest, your stomach, between your thighs. “you’re so pretty, you know that?” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “prettiest.”

“i might…”

“so so pretty,” he kisses your opposite thigh. the shivers you had just felt return with a hot flush of goosebumps throughout your entire body. and his tongue works that same magic you know it to.

- you of course, make too much food after that. glowing with the high of sex and three great orgasms. patrick sits a little bit quiet. if he’d done this and been out the door he wouldn’t be here. he wouldn’t be sitting at the table, listening to you weigh up and down about making brownies or cake. you’re so excited. you’re so happy. and he’s doing something good for once. he’s making someone happy and there’s no catch. he’s yours. if he’d fucked you and walked out, shoes in hand, he would have missed out on something so perfect. it’s something to think about .

- when you notice how quiet he is, you come and sit on his lap in the chair. “are you okay?” you ask, just a little concerned. after all, he is patrick and you did have a bit of worry that he’d finally have what he wants and go. that was irrational, you convinced yourself. but he’s so quiet. “dinner is almost done.”

“i’m okay,” he responds, hands slinking around your waist. “more than. i’m just… i’m really happy. i hope you are too.”

“i am really happy- what are you thinking?” you smile, kissing him on the cheek.

“thinking that-“ he turns your head toward his and kisses you, “-i should tell you that i’m happy.”

“just that?”

“just that.” and he’s more than contented with that and you. he wouldn’t have ever said so. he never pictured the sentence. ever.

- what’s another five pounds for the woman you’re probably in love with anyway? crisis, patrick zweig head over heels. crisis. it’s new. tashi was never love, tashi was lust and the idea of perfect. you. you are pretty. and you’re kind. and you’re feeding him a cookie with other cookies baked into it and asking if it’s better than the cinnamon one. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you.

- he moves in. you’re glad to have him, especially after he confesses about his car. there’s a small argument but it’s just because this whole time you were banishing him to sleeping in his car!!! how could he let you do that to him, poor baby. he’s not a poor baby, he’s a grown man, but he enjoys being kissed all over his face. you smell like chocolate and vanilla from the cakes of the day.

- he fucks you on the floor of your bakery, shutters closed, open sign turned off, the place dark, he’s fucking you on the floor. “god, you feel so good.” he groans. “so perfect.”

you hum in agreement, “fuck, patrick, god-“ and to think just ten minutes ago, you were making him try cake fillings for a wedding cake. you tasted like strawberry filling and he tasted like lemon and he could fuck you forever, he swears. floor or not. had to be some sort of health code violation. who was he to complain?

“fuck-“ he obeys, he goes harder. you moan and it slips from your lips. “fuck, i love you.”

- you both hear it. you grab his face and you kiss him so hard that his lungs strain from the lack of oxygen. he doesn’t falter, he fucks you harder the way you wanted and even adds his hand between you to play with your clit. you finish with him and you don’t let him pull out before you kiss him again, a second hard kiss, completely pressing him against you in all forms. “i love you too. a lot actually. more than you know.” you’ve been waiting to say it. “more than most… things.”

you’re naked and he’s still inside you and it’s a little oddly timed. he cant take back what he said. nor can he deny he means it. “more than chocolate cake?”

“woahhh too far, know your limits. that’s like asking you if you love me more than a tennis ball.”

he laughs, he laughs really hard, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “i think i love you a bit more than a tennis ball, what the fuck. a tennis ball?”

“you love tennis,” you giggle, holding his face in your hands. “why not a tennis ball?”

he keeps laughing, “it’s a ball.”

“tennis ball. you love tennis. makes sense to me.”

“over chocolate cake?”

you laugh with him, covering your face. but he moves your hands and kisses you again. a long, meaningful, and always perfect.

- he loves sleeping next to you more than most things. his favourite thing is probably the way you look in the morning before coffee. he keeps the curtains open when the sun sets so he gets to watch the golden light on your face. you kiss him every chance you get, no matter what, and he’s in love with it. and you. all of you. the sex is never boring, you taste like something sweet every time. he’s getting good at baking simple things like cupcakes and cookies and he can say he makes a decent mac and cheese because of you. he gets a job thanks to you and your connections and it’s a good job. he comes home to you, wakes up to you. and all this because some bar food wasn’t up to par.

- he finally gets you on the court and you’re terrible. it’s his turn to laugh at you, the way you do when he somehow turns batter into a thick dough. somehow you manage to hit balls backward. “it’s a good thing we’re in a long-term relationship and you love me, right?”

“hmmm… maybe not so long-term,” he jokes, dropping his racket and coming to kiss you.

- the thing about patrick is that after trying this, having this, in theory, he never wanted it again. it was messy. all he knew. messy. sex was easy and simple and was messy in the best way. he thought maybe it was his lack of faith that it could ever be like this. so he never stopped being happy with you. why would he? every fight was talked out, mature, you didn’t fight back to be petty and you didn’t give him the silent treatment for revenge. you sure as hell didn’t leave him for his best friend. you were everything right. and he thought this was all bullshit- finding that person. the right person. how could he look at you, the person who changed his life around and saved him from living in his car and not think that you were one hundred percent, without a doubt, perfect for him. you were you. and you were never sure if one baked good was better than another and he knew, watching you stirring a bowl of something with a bit of flour on your upper cheek and in your hair, that this was where he was meant to be.

- he had that same thought a few years later when you told him you were pregnant.

- and then later, when you’re retired. you turn to baking scones. patrick’s rackets on the wall, trophies, and you, in the kitchen, asking him if he likes the blueberry with cream scone better than the raspberry earl grey scone. he’s still got his sweet tooth.

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