#and it reminds me of hanging out in commercial kitchens as a kid

[heartbeetz]

I do not talk about him much here these days but I wanna say again how fun(ny) it is to like the silly pizza man as someone who's been in the restaurant industry since they were born (literally). We are 🤝 about it.

Anyway I think he went through the whole tower in those rubber nonslip kitchen shoes.

[joelsreligion]

Don't Tell (part 1)┊ dbf!Joel x Reader

(a/n) K this is part 1 of the series :D. This chapter's shorter than what I intend the rest of them to be but I just wanted to set the scene and introduce the characters n what not. The other chapters WILL have smut (how exciting ik) but for rn it's kinda just an intro so bear w me. The next part will be out VERY SOON! K bye. Enjoy!

(Summary) (3.3k) You come back home from college and reunite with your dad, Joel, and Sarah

(Warnings) very minor talk of oral f receiving

It was the middle of June and you had been back home for about a week. You’d just finished your third year of college and was back home for the summer to spend time with your dad. You’ve been far away since you left. Not super far like across the country or anything, but far enough that it became too heavy to drive down from your school to your dads house so often; so you guys settled on weekly video calls and daily phone calls. You missed him though. You guys were super close and he called you every chance he got. He updated you on everything; his hobbies, his friends, the pasta he cooked occasionally, the lake house, and the recent promotion he just got granted. 

You laid back slouched on your couch with your bare feet on the ottoman in front of you; popsicle in one hand and phone in the other. The monotone sound of some commercials filled the room and the window was opened to try and filter out some of the hot air with the cool breeze from outside. It smelled nice. There was a warm, cozy, sitting-outside-by-the-lake tone to the wind that reminded you of past summers you spent fishing with your dad. The sun wasn’t too far away from starting to set and you heard a loud slam of the front door.

“Hey kid c’mere!” your dad yelled from the kitchen

You kicked the ottoman away, set your phone off, and pushed the swinging door open with your free hand. 

“Grab a bag from the car yeah?”

“You went grocery shopping? I thought you said were gonna go to the mail office or something.” 

You put on some sandals by the door and waited for him to set the bags on the counter so he could follow you back out to the driveway. 

“I did. Jus’ figured we could make some burgers ’night n watch the game later. You didn’ have plans did you?” He grabbed two bags from the car and put one in your hand. He walked over to the passenger side, grabbed his phone, and locked the car as he followed you back in the house. 

You didn’t have many friends in your area. All the time you spent here you were hanging out with your dad. All the time you spent at school was spent in study rooms. It’s not that you weren’t social, you were! Sometimes too social. But your dedication to school got the best of you and you often sacrificed your social life for your academic one. 

“Nope” you smiled. This was the first time you guys were getting the chance to do something together. Since you told him your plans to stay home for the summer, he cashed in on all his favors and sick days at work to spend time with you. You were everything to him and he was more than happy to take time off for you. 

You set the bag of vegetables next to the sink and continued working on your ice cream.

“Alright, cool. Hey do me a favor yeah? You wanna water the lawn while I prep the stuff in the backyard?” He subtly tilted his head towards the front of the house and gave you a pleading smile. 

“Dad it’s barely a lawn. It's all yellow. The grass’s dead”

“Which is why it needs to be watered” he counters 

You tilt your head down and look at him with a ‘seriously?’ type of expression. He pretends to read the receipt in his hand to avoid the eye contact.

“We’re inna drought” you try justifying.

“Watering the front lawn once isn’t going to change that fact, kid.”

He put the receipt down on the counter and looked at you with a soft expression.

“Please”

Your mouth morphed into a smile. You were so happy to be home. 

“Fine, just cause you asked nicely.”

You walked out to the side of the house and started to unravel the hose from the faucet. The sun began to set so it wasn’t super hot out, but still warm enough for your shorts and tshirt to feel a little heavy on your body. You turned the faucet on and walked over to what was left of your lawn and began to water it. You kinda got lost in the movements, it was slightly relaxing just to watch the water fall on the patches of grass and tune out your surroundings. As you moved onto the surviving blades of grass next to the sidewalk, you saw a dog run towards you. You were so out of it you didn’t even realize it was Mrs.Moores’ until he jumped up at you and landed with his front paws on your thighs. 

“Hey Moose. What’s up.” You crouched down on the floor and started to rub his belly when he rolled over. Sarah ran towards you with a smile and started to apologize right away.

“Sorry, sorry. He loves you, he can’t help it.”

You laughed and stood up to give her a hug.

“No it’s fine, the feelings are mutual. What’re you doing with Mrs.Moores’ dog?” 

“She’s out of town till Saturday and asked me if I would take him out and just walk him. My dad got home yesterday and wanted to give your dad something so he just came with me around the block” She explained

“Your dads back? Where’d he go?”

“He was down in Houston for a week n a half. He had a job out there he needed to get started and just handed it over to some of his employees.”

Joel and your dad had been best friends since before you were born. They met in middle school and went to the same schools ever since, it was kind of like if their lives merged into one at the age of 13. They had birthdays a week apart, and had kids a couple years apart so they could “grow up together like they did.” Your dad and Joel honesty saw themselves more like family. They hung out so often that you felt like they had more of a social life than you did. You truly didn’t mind though. You loved hanging out with Sarah and you felt lucky to have her as your unbiological (but what felt biological) sister. And you loved seeing your dad with his friend, he laughed more often and it seemed to relieve some of the stress he always carried. 

From the corner of your eye you noticed a familiar, tall and dark featured man walking towards you two. One hand had a level ruler in it and the other hand was swinging at his side. His smile lit up his face and he extended his arms as he got closer to give you a hug.

“Heeyy, look whos home!”

He looked different. His hair was browner and his eyes were darker than you remember. His shoulders framed his torso in a way that made him look threatening and his height didn’t help that thought. He closed his arms around you and your arms reached around his back to try and return the hug. Your breath caught a little in your throat when you felt how muscular his back was. 

“Hey, how are you?” you asked smiling

Joel let go of you and took his place next to Sarah. You couldn’t look away from him. His eyes were so captivating and comfortable and you felt a little flutter in your stomach that you barely noticed. 

“I’m great. Jus’ got home yesterday n wan’ed to return this to your dad,” he held up the ruler “..is he in there?”

“Yeah, he’s in the backyard. He’s making burgers if you guys want any.”

“Oh sick yeah, I’d love one” Sarah mused from Joels side. 

“Yeah go inside, he should be back there. I’ll finish up out here and join you guys inna bit.”  

“Sounds good,” Joel said.

You finished watering the grass, or what was left of it, and wrapped the hose back in its place. Your mind was occupied with thoughts of Joel. Nothing specific, just.. him. His nose, his laugh lines around his eyes, the way his hair fluttered in the cool Texas wind, and his build completely stealing your entire focus. You noticed things about him you never noticed before and he made you feel something he never made you feel before. There was a knot in your stomach and you felt a light blush threaten on your cheeks. 

What the hell’s happening. 

There’s no way you’re.. attracted to Joel?

Noo no, nope. Not Joel, the man that drove you to school in the mornings. The man that hosted your birthday parties in his backyard when your dad had to work. Or the man that gave you your first driving lesson. He’d read you bedtime stories when you slept over his house when you were a child and Sarah couldn’t sleep. Your dads best friend, Joel. No, absolutely not, you can’t. 

In the moment in which you entered your home, washed your hands in your kitchen sink, and as your heart started to race, you made a decision. You cannot have these thoughts for him. It’s so foreign. He was like a surrogate parental figure to you. It would completely mess up your life and everyone elses. It would ruin your dad and you’d lose Sarah, these things you knew for sure. You can’t have feelings for someone that you wouldn’t have the slightest chance of being with, and if that man is someone your dad trusts with his life, then all the more reason to stay away. 

But.

But what if? What are the chances he might’ve had similar thoughts? What if you don’t lose Sarah and what if your dad doesn’t find the fault in that pairing?  

No chance, the rational side of your brain cut in. Anyone with the smallest amount of common sense would be able to see how messed up that is. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Will he tell your dad if something happens? Can he even see you as someone else besides his daughters best friend? 

No fuck that. You think. I’m not a kid, this is ok. But it isn’t. Every bone in your body is telling you this isn’t ok and you’re trying your hardest to convince yourself that it’s justifiable. 

No, ok. There are no thoughts, there are no feelings, nothing happened. Literally nothing happened. Maybe I was just surprised to see him. I haven’t seen him in 5 years, it could be that. It could be the fact that I haven’t seen him or even thought about him at all…. But god he looked so good. 

Thoughts of his toned arms engulfing your body and his natural musky scent when he hugged you filled your mind. Your skin suddenly had goosebumps and you felt a shiver on your lower spine. You dried off your hands and made your way to the backyard. As you got closer, you could see Joels side profile through the window. He was leaning on the counter behind your dad as he grilled burgers and Sarah played with Moose on the grass. 

You didn’t realize it, but you’d stopped walking. You took in Joels frame and paid attention to every detail to try and paint this moment in your memory forever. The way his brown hair looked golden under the setting sun, his nose bringing your attention to his face and the movement of his lips making you aware of the sudden heat between your legs. You looked at how round and muscular his arms looked under his dark green shirt and you were mesmerized by the way he had his arms crossed below his chest. His legs were also crossed and you noticed your chest start to rise a little faster than you’d like. You felt the same warmth creep up your cheeks and spread down your whole body. You squeezed the back of your couch for some extra stability and tried to slow your breathing. 

You couldn’t look away from him though. It felt like at any moment he might disappear and you wanted to try and remember every detail about him for your own sake. Just then, he felt you staring and looked in the house. 

It was quick.

3 seconds.

 That’s it. 

He looked you in your eyes, quickly glanced his eyes up and down your shape, and then averted his attention back to the conversation with your dad. 

Oh god.

You had to go outside now. Right now. You didn’t want him to think there was any reason you were standing there like a weirdo just staring at him. You found some composure and opened the sliding door out to the backyard. The slightly warm air hit your skin and it suddenly felt too cold to be wearing shorts. Your hair blew back from the sudden exposure and you blinked quickly to try and help your eyes recuperate from the breeze. 

You walked over to your dad and tried your hardest to avoid Joels’ stare on you. You turned your back to Joel and leaned over the grill next to your dad and pretended to be interested in the grilling.

“Are they almost ready?” You asked. You were nervous all of a sudden. Your voice fought back a slight quiver and your hands threatened to tremble. 

“Yeah they’re almos’ done kid. Joel was just about to help me grab some plates, you wanna help?”

“Oh, uhm…” you could feel Joel look at you. The blush on your cheeks and the slight rise of your chest were the only things you noticed. Not really, is what you wanted to say. “..maybe next time. I wanted to talk with Sarah for a bit n catch up.”

Please say ok. Please say ok. Please say ok.

“Alright, I’ll letchu know when they’re done” Your dad said while flipping a burger.

You smiled and pushed away from the grill. You turned around and noticed that it hadn’t just been your imagination, Joel was staring at you. His eyes met yours almost immediately and you were reminded of the heat between your legs. You tried to ignore it though. You didn’t wanna think about it too much. You gave Joel a little smile and tried to act as if nothing had happened. You smiled, he didn’t, he just stared at you. His eyebrows slightly furrowed and the two lines between them made an appearance. His eyes were so soft and delicate but also piercing and endless. You forced yourself to look away from him and set your eyes on Sarah sitting by the pool with Moose. 

You made your way over to her and tried to look as normal as possible. You talked for maybe a couple minutes and then you heard..

“Sarah we gotta get goin’” Joel yelled from the grill. You turned at the sound of his voice and Sarah made a disappointed noise from the floor.

“What? We just got here, the burgers aren’t done yet.” She scratched Mooses’ stomach and you stared at Joel with a slightly confused look, but he didn’t look at you. Your dad was plating the burgers and you wondered if he even noticed what Joel had said.

“Yeah I know, I forgot we had to do somethin’. We’ll come over another day, come on, lets go.” 

He looked uneasy. Not extremely so, but you noticed it. His fists balled in his jean pockets and he looked like he really wanted to leave. Sarah got up from the ground, dusted herself off, and turned to face you.

“Sorry we didn’t get to hangout much today. You can come over tomorrow though if you want and we’ll watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah no problem, I’ll see if I’m free.” You offered a light smile and gave her a hug. You followed behind Sarah as she walked over to her dad and you watched Moose rub up on Joels’ leg. Your dad took a break from the food and walked over to Joel.

“Think about it n let me know alright?” Your dad said, patting Joels shoulder

“Yeah sounds like a nice idea. I’ll letchu know.”

“Let him know what?” Sarah questioned

“Her dad..” Joel nodded towards you “..invited us to the lakehouse next weekend.” He looked at you. Joel looked at you and you looked back at him. He watched you fight off the squirm you tried suppressing and you swore you saw the slightest look of contempt pull at his face. You looked into his eyes for another second but immediately looked away. It was too much, looking at him like this. Your head filled with dirty thoughts of him going down on you and using his fingers to make you beg.  

Shit. 

“It’d be a lot o’ fun man, I haven’t been up there since last summer n it’ll be good for the girls to hangout more y’know?” Your dad said “We could go fishin’, light the fire n what not.”

Your dad was always a little more sentimental than Joel. Joel was hard to read. If you didn’t know him the way you did, you would’ve thought he was a stone-headed smartass who rarely cared about anything. But you did know him. You knew that even though he barely expressed it, he was just as sentimental as your dad and that he loved being around you guys whenever he got the chance. 

“Yeah sounds good. We’ll get together soon and plan it out.” Joel said. 

“I’m so excited ohmygod.” Sarah said with a huge smile. She picked Moose up from the floor and started to rock him back and forth. 

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. You felt a little excited, sure, but you didn’t know if it was the best idea to be in a house together with Joel for a couple days given your newfound infatuation. Joel looked at you when he noticed how silent you were and saw you fidgeting with your fingers. 

“You guys should get goin’. Don’t wanna make you late to whatever it is you have to do.” Your dad started to walk out your guests and you stayed back near the grill. They got to the sliding door and Sarah looked back at you. You both smiled and waved and then they walked out of sight. 

When they were gone, your dad finished up the burgers just in time for the game to start. You both walked inside with your food, sat on the couch, and watched the Rangers play the White Sox. You usually liked watching the games with your dad, but you couldn’t focus this time. You were barely hungry and your mind kept wandering off to Joel. 

You thought about how hot you felt under his stare, how his rough calloused fingers might feel guiding your hips to his use, how his mouth might know exactly how to play with your pussy just right to make you so wet and bring you over the edge. 

The warmth between your legs grew into a pulsating mess and you shifted in your seat and squeezed your thighs to try and alleviate the ache. Your dads eyes didn’t leave the tv and you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You didn’t want to touch yourself. It felt too strange, rubbing yourself to a man you've known your whole life. It felt wrong and outlandish. 

At least I know it’s wrong, you told yourself.

You washed your hands and sat on the hood of the toilet seat for a couple minutes with your head in your hands. 

I’m ok. I’m… I feel ok. I’m fine. You thought

You walked back out to the living room in time to catch the second half of the 4th inning. You took your place next to your dad and tried your hardest to focus on the game. By the 9th inning, you were dozing off to sleep and your dads shoulder supported your head. You fell asleep to the sound of the announcer calling out strikes and the cool breeze rushing over your legs. 

[heyitsjooooanne]

Just One

An elderly woman reflects on an impossible crush that she had during her youth.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Note: I randomly put the poster for this short story together on Canva, but the design feels a little familiar.

If the design reminds anyone of anything in particular, please let me know because I'm still trying to figure it out, lol.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Rita, let me help you with—"

Rita shooed the younger man's hand away.

"I can handle it. I'm not dead yet, Paul."

Paul sighed and dropped his hand. In the thirty years since he met her, he knew better than to argue back.

He gently rubbed her back, then sat down at the dining room table only ten feet away from the kitchen sink.

The white kitchen was decorated with floral designs everywhere, starting with the tablecloth on the table, the curtains on the window in front of the sink, and finally, the dishcloths hanging on the oven handle.

Paul got up from the table and tapped the "on" button to turn on the TV that was on the wall adjacent to the kitchen sink.

After a three-second advertisement for a beer and wine hybrid drink, a sharply dressed woman appeared on the screen sitting behind a newsdesk.

"And this just in. Beloved legendary musical artist and producer Valentino Chen passed away last night at the age of 87. Mr. Chen was a widow for twelve years, but he did leave behind one daughter that he and his wife adopted in..."

Paul stared at the screen.

"'Valentino Chen'? Why does that name sound so familiar?"

Paul glanced at Rita, expecting her to jab at him for not knowing the answer, but to his surprise, she was looking down into the sink with tears welling up in her eyes as the water from the tap poured out next to her.

The steam from the hot water quickly flooded the sink, so Paul reached over and turned it off.

"Rita? What's the matter?"

She sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"I..."

She chuckled.

"Goodness. I feel so silly for admitting it after all this time."

She turned her head and gave him a polite smile.

"Valentino..." She chuckled again before resuming. "Valentino was, what would we say back in my day, 'kind of a big deal.' He was in a successful four-person pop-punk group for fifteen years, and it was during that time that I found out about him and..."

Rita giggled.

"My god, it's like I'm young all over again."

She sniffled again.

"I had a crush on him. Kids still say that, right?"

Paul nodded his head.

"And other variations of it, yes," he told her with a light chuckle.

Rita looked away and smiled softly, her eyes shining once more.

She turned to look at Paul again.

"You know the main character of my debut novel 'In My Eyes' was entirely based on him?"

"Lyle?"

Rita nodded.

"Damn. He was my favorite character growing up."

Paul crossed his arms and tilted his head.

"So... Did you two ever meet?"

Rita looked away and nodded her head.

"No."

She picked up the unclean dish and resumed washing it with the sponge.

"I was so naive back then. I liked him so much that I reached out to him three times in two years during that time, but he never responded back."

"Wow. You attempted to speak to him? A celebrity? That's pretty—"

"Delusional. I know."

"I was gonna say 'bold.' And... Maybe a little delusion—"

Rita tapped his arm with her hand.

"You rascal!"

She put a newly washed plate on the dish rack to her left.

Paul walked past her to grab the dishcloth hanging in front of the oven and came back to where she was.

He grabbed the wet dish and began drying it with the cloth.

"So, did he ever inspire any of your other work?"

"Well..."

She paused.

"Before that, his group inspired a short story about four young men in charge of a bakery. The story ended up being a commercial failure though."

"Is it online? I'd love to read it."

"I have it on my tablet. I'll show it to you later."

She handed him another plate.

"The story was my excuse to talk to him online. Although, I didn't tell just him about it. I told the entire group. And for a while, I..."

She trailed off.

She smiled and shook her head.

"I thought I was one of their inspirations back then."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well," she handed him a bowl, "after I told them about the story, something about him was different. Of course, I chalked it up to coincidence. Someone like me couldn't possibly have any effect on him. And yet..."

She shook her head.

"So, you thought he was inspired by your writing?"

"Not necessarily. I vlogged book reviews back then. I would even get silly sometimes and reenact scenes from the books. You know, just to keep my channel more entertaining."

She sighed.

"And there was one book review where I went into this deep discussion on the complexity of human nature, and I still remember saying 'we can be brave, even if it's just for a few seconds,' in the video. I cringed while editing the video because of how stupid I thought it sounded, but I kept it in anyway. Fast forward to their next album four months later, titled, 'Just For a Few Seconds,' which had the theme of breaking free from society's expectations. They even made a tour out of it the following year. It also made them go from one hundred on the charts to number one in their musical genre practically overnight.”

"Oh, shit."

Paul set the cloth down on the counter.

"But that album title doesn't sound like a coincidence to me."

Rita chuckled and grabbed another bowl.

"I didn't think so at the time either. The album cover featured all four members pretending to eat sweets outside a cafe at night. Not exactly typical for their group."

"Given the album's theme, that sounds... Confusing."

Rita snickered.

"Their fans came up with all sorts of theories, but Valentino said no one ever got it right."

She handed him the bowl, the last dish, and turned off the tap.

"So, what about those two other times?"

Rita bit her lip.

"The second time was over a year after I sent the first message to the group. I finally finished the short story I had told them about, and I wanted to try reaching out to him personally. I didn't tell him I had a crush on him, which if I'm being honest, was practically gone by that time, but I wanted to thank him for being my inspiration anyway. And I couldn't live the rest of my life without at least trying to befriend him."

She turned her entire body and gripped the counter with her right hand to keep herself steady.

"So, I told him that he inspired my writing the story."

"Wait... What do you mean, 'writing the story'?"

"I just thought about what he would do. He would've written it no matter how silly it seemed. So that's what I did."

"He inspired you to write again?"

Rita nodded.

"Of course, stupid me unsent the message after two days. Then, two months later, I sent it again."

"And he never got it."

"I don't know. I deleted the unsent message, and the second attempt sat in my outbox for six months. There was no reaction to it. Not even a 'seen' sticker. I no longer had a crush on him by that point, so I figured it was time to move on. I deleted the message and that was that. But at least I tried."

She looked down and smiled.

Paul crossed his arms and looked around the kitchen.

Then his eyes got wide.

"Oh my god!"

Rita lifted her head.

"What is it, Paul?"

"Oh god, I'm so stupid."

He hurried out of the kitchen.

"Thank god!" she heard him say from the living room.

Rita narrowed her eyes and slowly walked over to where he was.

Paul, whose back was to her, held something in his hands.

"What's that?"

Paul turned around.

He brought an envelope to his chest.

"This came for you four days ago. I was gonna toss it because I thought it was spam, but thank god I didn't. The name 'Valentino Chen' is on the envelope."

Rita's heart skipped a beat.

Before she could protest, Paul opened up the envelope and took out a folded handwritten letter.

He held out for her to take.

She reached out and gently took it from him.

"I'll let you be alone."

Paul quietly walked out of the living room as she unfolded the letter.

Dear Rita,

She carefully sat down on the black sofa and adjusted her reading glasses.

I have no idea what I'm doing writing this.

And that's a little strange, isn't it?

I used to write song lyrics, and yet, I can't write.

However, I will try my best.

We've never been properly introduced, so...

Hi, Rita.

I'm Valentino Chen.

It's so nice to meet you.

You might not remember this, but you know that message you sent me and the boys back then?

We all read it.

Two of the guys even gave me hell for being more distracted than usual during rehearsals that week afterward.

And as for why I was so distracted?

Well, to be honest…

Other than rehearsals, you were all I thought about the following week.

Hell, the following year even.

And as cheesy as it is to say even in writing, just knowing that someone like you existed out there in the world changed everything for me.

You became my personal inspiration. My muse.

You were so pretty that I even had a crush on you.

And I just loved watching your book reviews and reading your writing.

I also read the message you sent to me the second time. Unfortunately, my assistant at the time accidentally deleted a third message you had sent to me months later, so I never had a chance to read it in full. But since the preview of it started the same way the previous message did, I can only assume you thought it had never been sent the first time and decided to send it again.

And I wanted to talk to you.

I really did.

But I was scared.

Scared I would never be good enough for you, but even more than that, I was scared of what everyone else would think if I spoke to you.

Additionally, I was in the States while you were in Europe.

So, I never gave us a chance.

I was a coward.

Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for how my life turned out.

But I have just one regret.

And that's not taking advantage of your attempts to connect with me.

And I am truly sorry for making that choice all those years ago.

But as the saying goes, "Better late than never."

Which is why you're free to write a reply back or call the number I've left on the bottom of this letter. 

Or not. It's your choice.

But I would really love to hear from you.

So please consider it, at least.

Also, happy belated birthday.

It's your birthday today as I'm writing this. You mentioned it online back then, and I never forgot it.

91 is quite the accomplishment. I hope I'm blessed enough to make it to that age. God willing, maybe we'll spend it together.

All my love,

Valentino

P.S. Our album "Just For a Few Seconds" was mostly inspired by you. That's why our fans could never figure it out.

xoxo

Paul, who was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, watched as Rita put her face down in her hands.

He immediately got up from the table and joined her on the couch.

He rubbed her back as she continued to sob quietly.

xx

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I'm Yours, You're Mine | 5

Word Count: 4.1k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: Cheating, yandere!felix, sub!felix, mention of blackmail, public sex, pussy eating, guided masturbation?, fingering, hella jealousy, assault mention, jisung inclusion lmao

A/N: link to the gorgeous dress the OC wears made a super lovely anon thank you babe

GIF CREDIT

“What is taking you so long?” You grunt, walking into the kitchen to find the freckled boy pulling a tray out of the oven. At the sound of your voice, he springs up and flashes you a brilliant smile that explains just why he’s nicknamed the sunshine boy. You smile bitterly at the reminder. Oh, how you used to believe that.

“I just finished the brownies for the picnic, noona.” He chirps happily, looking so angelic, like a bad thought never crossed his mind ever.

Felix wants to take you on a romantic picnic date beside the river. He volunteered to do everything, making you both the food and drinks you’ll need so all you’ll have to do is sit there and enjoy the pleasant early summer weather.

Taking a deep breath, you steal yourself, preparing for the transformation you’ve come to expect from him. “Oh, we’re not going on a picnic. I changed my mind. I wanna go to the mall instead.”

You know the commercial, impersonal place would upset the sentimental boy, and that’s why you do it. The sharp fall of his smile makes your heart stop for a second and your body stiffen, preparing for an attack.

“What?” He asks gruffly.

“I need new summer clothes.” You try to appear nonchalantly.

“Can’t you do that any other time?”

“I want to do it today.” You shrug, stopping yourself from flinching as you see his jaw clench. “You promised you’d take care of me. You promised you’d do what I want.” You remind him of the promises he made after attacking you last time. The promises he made to make you give him another chance. You didn’t believe in any of his promises, and you were provoking him on purpose to prove that he can’t himself in check so you’d have a reason to call this whole thing off.

And it seems he’s getting there. “But we agreed on this date. I prepared a lot for this. I made you fucking brownies.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.” You accuse, and he flinches, his body immediately deflating as the anger rushes out of him. “No, I won’t. It’s okay. We can go wherever you want, noona. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

You didn’t expect this reaction from him. You thought he’d lash out again. Maybe it really was a mistake like he said, and you should give him another chance. You’re lost in contemplation when his soft, low voice breaks through to you.

“Would you at least try the brownies?” He pleads, his pretty eyes sparkling, making you believe that the universe truly is a cruel, uncaring place if the stars would agree to light up the eyes of someone like him. Still, you can’t resist the constellations reflected in his eyes and onto his cheeks, finding yourself compelled to lean down and press a kiss to his pouty lips.

You suck in a sharp breath at the exploding light that brightens his face at such a small action, like a supernova, blazing your cold heart.

“Okay.” You breathe, and he, giddy with excitement, cuts off a piece for you. You reach out for it but he swings his hand out of the way, wanting to feed it to you himself. You open your mouth and accept the food, biting a piece of it off and chewing it.

Felix watches you with bated breath, as if your opinion would win him a national baking competition. You’re scared by how much you’re enjoying his attention, and it scares you. It’s too easy to get addicted to him.

“How do you like it, noona?”

“It’s sublime.” You smile, the divine taste of the dessert and his angelic features could fool you into thinking you’re in heaven. How can one person give you such radically conflicting feelings? You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if at the end of fall you’ll be greeted by the refreshing ocean water or the jagged, deadly rocks.

Felix’s smile gets impossibly wider as he giggles. “I knew you’d like it, baby.” He leans in to give you a peck that’s sweeter than the food you just had.

______________________________

You can’t find anything you like. Nothing at all.

Frustrated, you turn to Felix who had been following you obediently like a little puppy through the countless stores.

“I don’t know. Do you see anything good?” You huff, and he seems surprised by your question, not having expected you to actually take his opinion, albeit how last choice it is. You feel bad. He not only didn’t complain like he promised, even though you cancelled the picnic he wanted, but he actually hyped you up and showered you with compliments every time you’d try on something new.

“What do you like your girl to wear?” You tease him, knowing your words will bring a pretty blush to his face.

“I--I like dresses.” He replies sheepishly.

“Yeah? Like what? Show me.”

It’s your turn to follow him around as he bashfully picks out a few dresses for you. You notice they're all so girly and pretty with bows and frills and lace. Seems like he has a type.

“Do you want me to try them on, baby?” You ask when he hands them to you.

“Please.” He breathes, impatient to see them on you and you think it's adorable how excited he is. You don’t wear dresses, and you know you won’t wear these, but you try them on just for him, not expecting how much his reaction will affect you.

"Wow." He sucks in a breath, his widened eyes taking in every inch of you. Smirking, you ask, "You like it that much?"

He nods vigorously, looking at you with adoration and want you’ve never had directed at you before. It takes your breath away, how genuine it looks, compelling you to do everything in your power to earn it.

The dress is made of a pretty pink Chiffon material, with a pink bow circling under the chest and a sweetheart neckline that exposes your collarbones and dips down to show quite a bit of cleavage, serving to emphasize your breasts that Felix can’t take his eyes off of. The contrast between the light and princessy look of the flowy skirt, and the seductive neckline hints at a certain corruption of innocence begging to be undertaken.

But just as you prepare to be engulfed in the sparkly blue-green of the ocean water, you find yourself crumpling over the rocks as Felix pulls out his phone to take a picture of you.

“You and your pictures.” You comment bitterly, happiness gone. “Gonna blackmail me over this too?”

He gasps, and the hand holding his phone immediately drops down, as if he couldn’t believe you’d say that.

“What, did you forget that you forced me into this?” You mock, “I bet you’re loving this. Making me do this. Dressing me up like I’m your doll? I bet your little dick is hard right now.”

He shakes his head, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to deny your words or just defend his actions. Pulling him close by his jeans, you press your thigh between his legs and laugh when it’s met by his hard-on. “See? I know everything that goes on in your sick brain.”

“Just wanna be good for you.” He whimpers, but even as he says that, his eyes fall to your breasts and his hand reaches out to run over the neckline of the dress you have on.

“Of course you do.” You snarl, and he cowers under your harsh tone. But like a kid at a candy store, he can’t stop his hand from straying, his fingers trailing down to circle around your nipples pushing through the soft material of the dress.

Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand to your mouth and take his middle finger into your mouth, sucking on it lightly, grinning as his knees buckling and a small whimper leaves his lips. He tries to push you back into the fitting room but you don’t budge, taking his finger out of your mouth and humming. "I suddenly want something to suck on. Why don't you buy me a popsicle baby? I'm feeling hot."

He gulps harshly, "Yes, noona."

________

Felix buys all the dresses for you and you keep wearing the pink one, wanting to make him suffer more through the trip.

You strut to the ice cream store, feeling unstoppable in your flowy dress with your lovestruck lover in toe, hand on your waist and eyes glaring at everyone, trying to fend off anyone who would try to approach you.

Felix sits you down in a booth at the far end of the store, hiding you from view as he goes to get what you want. You sigh, playing the skirt of your new dress, lost in thought about Felix and how you feel about him. He’s sweet, addictively so, but he’s volatile and that scares you. Would you pick him over Chan? What if he just wants you because Chan has you? Maybe this is some kind of sick competition for him. Or maybe it’s the contrast with Chan that makes you like him at all. Maybe you’re just upset with Chan.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud, cheery voice. “Noona, how are you?”

Coming out your daze, you blink, taking in the new figure. “Oh, hey, Jisung.”

“What are you doing here?” He asks giddily, eyes raking over your body, stopping over your breasts the same way Felix did, and lingers on them too long. You clear your throat, smirking as his eyes snap back up to your face as he flushes.

You’re quite aware of the crush he has on you. So better get rid of him before Felix comes and throws a tantrum. Unless…

This could be your chance to get back at Felix for what he did to you and for forcing you to go on this date. He can threaten to tell Chan on you but what is he gonna do to Jisung? Nothing.

“I’m just hanging with a friend.” You smile broadly, “Why don’t you join us?”

“Wouldn’t your friend mind?” He asks, already moving to sit down. You grin wickedly, “No, he’ll love it."

“Okay.” He sits down opposite you, unsuspecting of the storm about to come over. Right on time, Felix comes back with your popsicle.

“Oh, hey Lixie! This is Jisung. We work together.” You pull him down, ignoring the sour look on his face.

“Hey!” Jisung pipes up with a friendly wave that Felix doesn’t return. Felix pins the other boy down with a glare that makes Jisung shrink back.

“He’s just a little shy.” You reach over the table and place your hand over his to comfort him, a gesture that only makes Felix angrier and he in turn grabs your thigh under the table and squeezes it in warning. Turning to him, you pluck the popsicle out of his hand and take a big lick. “Hmm, this is tasty.”

You take the part of the popsicle into your mouth, giving Felix a wink before you turn to the other boy. “So, how have you been, Sungie?”

“Um… good.” He fidgets as you swirl your tongue around the popsicle in an obviously suggestive way.

“How's your girlfriend?” You ask, knowing full well that they broke up. His eyes follow your tongue for a second before he clears his throat and answers. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh, no!” You pout, lips cherry colored and glistening with melted ice cream. “That must be very hard for you, baby.”

You feel Felix’s hand clench around your thigh, but you don’t spare him a glance as you continue, “How have you been handling that?”

You place the popsicle back in your mouth, sucking on it enticingly as you eye Jisung up and down and wait for him to answer, but the poor boy can barely string his words together. “It’s--I’m...o-okay.”

Pulling the popsicle out of your mouth with a wet slurp, you smile while licking the tip of the treat. “I’m so glad. Hmm, this is so good.” You moan out, and extend the popsicle towards him. “Wanna try it?”

Jisung chokes on his own spit, and you can tell that a handprint will remain on your upper thigh from how hard Felix’s fingers were digging into your skin.

"No that's okay, noona." Jisung fidgets, and you know he’s rubbing his thighs together under the table. You ignore his refusal, pushing the popsicle towards his mouth. "Come on baby, open up for me."

He obediently opens his mouth despite his refusal, but before he can close his lips around the ice cream, you pull it away with a laugh. "Why don't you stick out your tongue for me?"

He sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes snap to Felix. You can only see the other boy from the corner of your eye, but the rage rolling off of him in waves more than explains the terrified look on your coworker's face. No, that wouldn't do.

Leaning over the table, your ass in Felix’s face barely covered by the short dress, you curl a finger under Jisung’s chin and turn his attention towards you. "Don't look at him baby. Keep your eyes on me."

He nods weakly and you smile, moving to sit back down when Felix grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, a small gasp escaping from your lips as you feel his hard-on against your thin underwear.

Your grin grows bigger, and you grind down on Felix’s dick as you tell Jisung, "Now show me your tongue, baby."

The sight of Jisung’s glazed eyes and pretty tongue out like a cute puppy makes you moan a little, something only Felix can hear. You feel his hand move from your hip to your pussy, fingers rubbing over you now soaked panties. With a shuddering breath, you move the popsicle over Jisung’s tongue, delighted by how he doesn’t pull it back into his mouth until you tell him to.

"Such a good boy." You coo, and you feel Felix’s fingers slip under your panties to rub harshly at your bare pussy. Shuddering, you open your legs wider for him. "He's such a good boy, isn't he, Felix? I bet he'd never act out or disobey me."

Felix grabs your clit between his thumb and index finger and pinches lightly, making you jump in his lap and bounce on his cock, the two of you groaning out in pleasure and making poor Jisung whimper as he clutches hard onto the table to keep from touching himself.

Opening your legs wide, you order Felix, "Put your fingers in me. Wanna show you what you're not getting by being a brat."

His hand leaves the tight circles he’s drawing over you clit and dip down to your hole, plunging a finger right in. “Oh, fuck.” You shudder at the delicious intrusion and the thrust of Felix’s dick against your pussy, the both of you clearly wishing that was his dick instead of his finger.

“Feels good, baby?” You whisper back to Felix and he nods sharply, finger pushing in and out of you incessantly as if you’ll tell him to stop at any moment. "Yeah? Tell Jisung how it feels."

Felix growls against your skin, sinking his teeth into your shoulder angrily, not wanting to think about the other guy with you right now. But you don’t back down. "Tell him or I'll have him find out himself."

He stuffs another finger inside you, and obeys, voice grave and hostile. “Noona’s pussy is tight around my fingers. So soft and wet for me. Only me.”

You laugh breathlessly, bucking your hips against Felix’s hand so that your clit can rub against his palm. Poor Jisung’s hands were white from how tightly he was gripping onto the table, and you’re worried he would either break it or hurt himself.

“You getting turned on watching us, baby?” You drawl, getting his attention. “It’s okay. You can touch yourself.”

As if he was waiting for your permission, Jisung instantly sticks his hand between his legs, and humps against it to relieve some of the pressure.

“Good boy.” You murmur, and Felix abuses the spot he bit in your shoulder again, deeping the mark forming there and making his feelings clear about you praising another guy while he’s fingering you. "Did you fantasize about my pussy, baby?"

“Yes.” Both of them answer, and you laugh.

"Hmm, seems like you've got competition, kitty. Maybe I chose the wrong boy to play with."

Felix stops abruptly, pulling his fingers out of you and pushing you onto the seat next to him. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest, thinking that he’s about to make a scene. Instead, he slips under the table and pulls on your hips so your ass is at the edge of the seat. Yanking your panties off, he spreads your legs wide.

"Gonna prove to you that I'm the one for you." He buries his face in your pussy, angrily licking every little inch of it and sucking harshly on your clit.

“Oh, fuck---Felix!” You moan, grabbing onto his hair as he devours your pussy. “Good boy. This is exactly where you belong.”

From the barely open slit of your eyes you see Jisung frustrated and on the verge of crying as he’s not getting as much stimulation as he needs.

"Pull your pretty cock out for me baby.” You drawl, trying to entice him so he’d forget about being in a public place and give in to you. “Don't be scared. Noona wants you to be dirty."

He discards his fears, pulling his dick out and yanking on it fast.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.” You effuse, and under the table, Felix pulls back to slap your pussy in punishment, furious that you’re still giving Jisung attention even though he’s on his knees under the table eating your pussy out.

“Brat.” You hiss, tugging on his hair and pushing his head back between your legs, grinding your pussy against his face.

"Wanna cum, please." Jisung begs, and you tear your eyes away from Felix’s shiny and livid ones to look over at him. He doesn’t look pretty or angelic as Felix looks even under the cramped table and surrounded by the pink Chiffon as he ignores his need to breathe in favor of pleasing you. Instead, Jisung he looks sweaty and fucked dumb, his eyes barely focused and his jaw hanging open.

"Wait for noona." You gruffly answer, squeaking in surprise as you feel Felix’s tongue push inside your pussy, a growly moan ripping out of him as he feels your tight walls around his tongue.

"You are doing such a good job, kitten.” You purr down to your lover, fucking his pretty face.

“No, I can’t, n-noona… please.” He cries, and you glare at him. “I said wait.”

“Can’t….ahh...noona, I’m sorry….fuck, fuck!” He squeaks, body convulsing as little ropes of white stain his shirt.

Seeing the mess he makes, you’re tipped over the edge yourself, cumming on Felix’s tongue and closing your thighs around his head, trapping him there. Obediently, he stays still as your hips buck a few more times against his face before your body relaxes and your legs fall open.

Felix gives your pussy a couple of soothing licks before he pulls your dress down and emerges from under the table, his face glistening with your cum. Yet somehow, he still looks as delicate and beautiful as ever as leans into your hand cupping his cheek.

“Good boy.” You murmur, your other hand reaching out to palm his crotch when a wet spot surprises you. You raise an eyebrow "oh?"

"I'm sorry. I know you didn’t say I could cum. I just wanted this for so long. Wanted to make you feel as good as you make me feel." He sobs, thinking you'll laugh at him. But you find it so incredibly sexy and flattering. You never thought you'd meet a guy who enjoyed pleasing you that much.

"You did good, baby." You beam, patting his cheek. ”Sitting there while I flirt with another boy? Maybe next I just make you watch while I fuck him. How does that sound? I bet it will make your little cock so hard, you little pervert."

He shakes his head violently, getting upset. "No, please don't. It would kill me. I love you so much." He breaks down and starts babbling about how he never wanted it to be this way. How sorry he is, begging you to not do this again.

"Hush, my dumb kitty." You press your finger against his lips to stop him from talking. “It’s okay. How about we go home and get cleaned up then have some coffee and brownies?"

He nods gratefully, and you’re about to get up when you hear someone cough. You look in front of you and remember that you had a guest.

“Oh, Jisung. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” You say, pulling Felix up and ignoring Jisung’s protests, and walking to the door.

However, Jisung isn’t the only one with something to say. As you’re about to leave the shop, an employee intercepts you. You can immediately tell what he’s going to say from the severe look on his face.

“Please, don’t try to come back to our shop or we’ll have to call the police.”

You nod, cheeks burning in humiliation as you run out and drag a smiling Felix behind you to the car.

__________________

When you head off to work a few days later, you wonder what you’re going to say to Jisung. You had set off to work with a promise to Felix that you’re not gonna pursue anything with the brunette, but he weirdly didn’t seem particularly concerned about the matter, despite how upset he was that day.

Yes, you’d been extra nice to him these past few days, acting much more receptive to his affectionate ways and responding in kind, but you still didn’t expect that much change.

Your brain is buzzing with all the possibilities about how Jisung will react and your lover’s one-hundred-eighty flip in attitude as you step into your office, but then you realize that Jisung isn’t there at all. Asking around, you find out that he’s at the hospital. Apparently he’d injured himself while playing with a knife. You roll your eyes. That boy is a danger to himself.

Still, you decide to go check up on him at the hospital.

You expect him to act awkward around you, to blush and stutter and look away. What you don’t expect is the sheer horror on his face upon seeing you.

“Wow, did I scar you that bad?” Is the first thing you say to him once you’re inside his hospital room.

“Why are you here?” He asks shakily, staring behind you as if he’s expecting someone to pop out from there.

You frown, “I realize I may have crossed the line yesterday but I just wanted to make sure you’re alright."

“I’m fine. Now please leave.”

“Thanks, I’m so reassured right now.” You roll your eyes, moving closer to him. ”How did this even happen? How does one stab their own leg?”

But as you reach out to touch his shoulder, he screams. "Don't touch me! You can't touch me!"

"What's going on? You're freaking me out." You jump back, and once again, he looks behind you. "Does he know you're here?"

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"Chan?” You ask, confused. What does Chan have to do with this? “He doesn't even know you."

"No, Felix. The one that was with you yesterday."

"Felix? He's not my---" Your face suddenly falls as a horrible thought crosses your mind. No. It can’t be. "Did he do this to you?"

Jisung pales and shakes his head violently "No. I told you it was an accident. Now please leave."

He seems to be on the verge of breakdown, and maybe you should try to calm him down, but your mind is in an upheaval right now, and all you could think of is running to Felix to prove to yourself that you’re just being crazy. He would never do something like this, would he? It can’t be. It’s simply outrageous. But then again his weird change in behavior, his volatile attitude that always keeps you on edge… No, that’s crazy talk.

Numbly you go out of the room and make your way to your car to head back home. You’ll talk to Felix and he’ll tell you how stupid you’re being, and it’s all gonna be alright.

__________

A/N: this chapter was written so quickly because of all the lovely feedback you guys gave me so yeah feedback feeds me

[ohheyitsokay]

strike

part 3 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2k

warnings: extremely mild mentions of sex, unwanted advances that don’t get far (not by Frankie)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball au - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, we learn that a ‘strike’ is when a batter misses the ball when he swings, even though he shouldn’t have. And some strikes don’t just happen during baseball.

>>

“Jimbo, I'm here!” You called as you kicked the door closed behind you, arms heavy with grocery bags. Your grandfather would be in the living room, no doubt impatiently waiting for you to unload so you could watch the baseball game together. It was a few states away, which meant the two of you could enjoy evening on the couch with affordable snacks and air conditioning. Games in person were more exciting, but climbing all those stairs wasn’t great for his knees, and it was nice to chat with him without the roar of the crowds.

There was a faint squeak to his favorite rocker, and you unloaded half the bags onto the coffee table – his favorite treats – before tossing the rest haphazardly into their places in his little kitchen. You raced the commercials, listening to the final advertisements with one ear as you hurried to get yourself settled, even though he was always happy to chat with you during the game. For these times with him, you hated to miss even a moment. The chair to the left of his was yours, newer and softer and it would have been the perfect evening, eating and catching up with your favorite man.

Except this was the first real opportunity for him to grill you about your unexpected lunch with his heroes. 

There had been laughter in his voice when you had tried to call him afterwards, and he had told you he would wait to hear the story. To him, even over the phone you couldn’t hide how flustered you were, just moments after Francesco’s eyes had been in yours. All things considered, he had been more than patient, so as you fidgeted and you kept your eyes on the screen, you told him what had happened as casually as you could.

It was the top of the first inning – the very beginning of the game, and his boys were mostly crowded into the dugout. Their fingers were grabbing fistfuls of sunflower seeds or pulling on batting gloves or hanging on the wire, watching as Will walked up to bat. There was a fun country song playing, and it was surreal, thinking it had just been a few days since he had tossed a chunk of fried food into the air and his brother had caught it in his mouth. James thoroughly enjoyed you story, laughing and for once not lecturing you about leaving them alone to live their lives. He seemed approving, proud of you for taking a change, and proud that the boys from his favorite team did his favorite granddaughter well. You answered this questions and indulged his excitement over the little things, trying not to reveal too much of your own daydream fodder. Thinking of Francisco’s eyes as he laughed at the Miller boys, you grabbed a pillow to give your hands something to hold onto, to ground yourself.

The camera panned over to Tom adjusting his cap and without thinking you winced. When you realized that James had caught the movement, you winced again.

You had to explain, then, the biggest detail that you had glossed over – the only one that would disappoint your grandfather. The outfielder had looked at you with confidence and hunger in his eyes. His fingers on your hand left cool, invisible lines, slimy like residue of the stadium cup holders.

James listened with sad eyes, before he was reaching over, gently squeezing your hand, and asking about Will’s family in town to find out if he knew a relative. It was kindness - changing the topic, rewarming the memory as he coaxed out more details of their interactions with you and each other, making you blush and laugh and smile.

The discomfort that had been lodged in your heart regarding the athlete  lessened as you remembered that they were all human. It had been clear the other players respected him, maybe even looked up to him, and that had to be good for something. Even though it had just been a lunch, a single moment in time, the assessments of a group of open hearted baseball players already held weight on your opinion.

As you began to tell James about a joke Santiagio had told, you noticed that Tom’s turn had come and gone, and he had struck out.

-

Every professional sports group had a second team, full of people who pushed papers and cleaned locker rooms and handled press conferences. One of these people was a woman who was in charge of sorting through and organizing special fan appearances.

Flipping through applications and mail, she would have hardly noticed the broad shoulders and hazel eyes of the man who entered, had he not kissed her breathless the night before.

For all they were on and off and she knew he was a player in all senses of the word, she couldn’t help but stand, and let his hands find her hips as he pressed into her.

“Hi, Tom,” she whispered, already dazed and adoring as his beard scraped at her neck, warm and insistent.

“Hey, babe,” he returned, absentmindedly, squeezing her hips before pulling away. There was something about his eyes, the way he held his head, like his shoulders were comfortable bearing the weight of others, like he’d prefer it that way, that made him seem like a natural born leader.

She knew him better. He had the crowds and the rookies and the managers and even his brothers on the team wrapped around his fingers - the perfect mentorship allusion, but she knew. There was another side to him, a darker side, filled to the brim with pride and arrogance and power. Of all the men who flashed smiles as they shook hands and carried kids on their shoulders for photos – he was the one who preened the most. There was a hunger in his eyes, even greater than when he’d love her, when a chance came for him to do an extra interview, put some senior input in, or take a newbie to his first after party.

Still, she loved him. Too much, maybe, but her mind whispered not enough, and she hungrily took what ever he would give her. There were always flowers and jewelry and coveted high-status sex in his apologies, anyway, and she knew he’d always come back to her, eventually. She knew better than to guess.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, star stuck in spite of it all, but knowing there must be something. His “cousin” had stocks in the team, or a certain string needed to be pulled. There was always something. 

When he asked for the number of a girl from a few weeks ago, there was an all-too-familiar twist in her gut.

“Tom, you know that information is confidential,” she whined, masking her fear, turning back towards her desk. It was infuriating how disarming, intoxicating, and how solid he felt behind her, how smooth his words felt on the shell of her ear.

“It’s for Benny, babe, he’s got it bad for her,” it was a lie, but she didn’t know it, and the knot in her stomach loosened a little. His hand slipped under her blouse and it came undone, submitting entirely to the façade.

“Let me help the little guy out.” For all his charisma, she wanted desperately to believe he was sincere, so she did. Her hands started steady as she opened a thick binder and began flipping through the glossy dividers. She moved as slow as she could, hopelessly savoring his touch, knowing when it was gone, the unpleasant feelings would be just as strong.

But it didn’t take long to find you number and hand it over, and exchange more heated kisses and half promises before he slipped out.

The woman settled in her chair again, fingers tracing the letters of your name, the knot reforming below her breastbone. She reached for her phone, telling herself it was a courtesy, to give you a heads up.

-

When a player was about to steal second base, you always wondered if Santiago Garcia could tell, without even looking. If he could feel it in his bones, or if the hairs on the back his neck rose, against his sweat.

If he could, that was exactly how you would feel now, walking into the bar to see only Tom Davis waiting for you. The building was dim, strategically chosen by Will, allegedly, so they could drink in peace. As before however, there was no hiding the silhouette of a man like him, not when he was oozing confidence like sap from a tree.  

When he had called you, it had been so shocking you had agreed without thinking. It was surreal, but like following a trail of candy through a forest, not at all like the knights in shining armor of before.

He swung his arm around, cocky smile across his face, and you shook his hand.

There could not have been a more awkward boundary made, but he laughed it off as you considered turning tail and running. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how guarded you felt alone with him, so you turned to the polished woof of the bar and ordered a lemonade. It would buy you time, anyway, to reassess. 

You had always thought of baseball players as beer guys, but he had a short glass of something gold and expensive, as if he were trying to prove a point. Slipping onto the stool next to him, you set your bag in between you like a wall. He was broad and he pulled close, making you almost press against his side, giving you the opportunity to realize his skin almost cold. Slow sips reminded you that there was no basis for your feelings, and you were the one being strange. 

It wasn’t bad, talking to him. You chided yourself internally, thinking you made unfair assumptions. Really, he was a nice guy. He talked highly of his friends, even defending their lateness, taking the blame for the mix-up. It felt like one of those interviews your grandfather would watch sometimes, the way he could go on about himself and somehow tell you nothing at all. Fighting your instincts to give short, guarded answers, you found yourself sharing about your life more than you expected. Not a lot, but not nothing either.

It was awkward and nice, not unlike a first date and when his large hand covered yours, it didn’t feel half as slimy as before.

A spider’s web was feather-light, so subtle it was almost impossible to feel until it was too late.

His eyes were sharp and deep and certain as he shifted closer, and you felt dazed, despite all the alcohol you hadn’t consumed.

When he leaned in, though, a thought struck you. With his deep hazel eyes, the perfect beard, and tanned skin, he looked like a prince. Not our prince, though, it was just someone else’s fairytale.

Clarity and your own confidence warmed you like a jacket one rainy day, and you touched Tom’s cheek, holding his face at enough of a distance. You shed the web before it stuck and something flickered in his eyes – doubt, maybe, or something like fear, as you spoke the most prominent thought on your mind. 

“What about Molly?”

-

When he heard you, again speaking words that weren't meant for his ears, warm pride shot through his chest.

That’s my girl.

Of course you weren’t, but it felt like you were.

You turned to him like you knew he was there, hand leaving Tom’s stunned face to wave at the grinning catcher.

Frankie had been at war with himself across the bar as he looked towards the two of you, heart wrenching. He had seen from the far side the room first how close you were to the other man. It was unreasonably terrifying to see that you weren't immune, to see you consider his friend. Then he saw how non responsive you’d become to Redfly, how politely you regarded him as he lathered on the charm. By the time he reached the two of you, he found you fully awake, handling it yourself.

When the woman had called you, her voice had betrayed something. It was formal conversation, just admitting she had shared your contact information, and disclosing that it was Tom, and he’d made it clear you guys were friends. Her tone, however, told you she was territorial and jealous, but also desperate, longing. It felt right to get out of the way – that’s what you and she wanted and you sort of thought that’s actually what he wanted, too. He was moving away from you, still processing, trying to play off the moment, and even more than pity, you felt a touch sad for them.

Still, you were impressed you were able to manage yourself. It was the same confidence that had filled you when you stood up for James, a confidence that came from a feeling that whispered something good was coming, something well worth the boldness.

When you felt a warm presence at your side, you felt even more sure. It felt wonderful, the way Francisco was looking at you. It was too early to read into it, but you were sure you wanted him to look at you like that again - like you were capable of telling mountains to move.

You smiled up at him, relieved, and he couldn’t help but beam back, wanting to hug you. He wasn’t feeling quite brave enough yet, but there was a resolve settling in his heart. There was no way he was going to leave your side tonight. 

The other guys came quickly. Each of them was excited to see you again, and you pretended not to notice them shooting confused glances at Redfly when he slipped outside to spit on the ground and stare at the sky. 

It didn’t take long for him to rejoin you, anyway, and his shoulders seemed lighter, his eyes just a little more thoughtful. 

The group as a whole accepted you into their fold like they needed you, like each one of them had missed you when you were gone, like you missed them, like you belonged there from the start.

You had no idea how long the daydream would last, but in that moment it didn’t feel like it mattered at all. Collecting stories for James even faded as a priority as you just enjoyed the feeling of the glass in your hands, the laughter in the air, and teasing the men like they were just boys. Even after the last half hour, it was easy to trust Will’s sincere tone, and Ben’s eager blue eyes. The others were grounded at your side, steady and comforting - you felt yourself open like a flower to the sun. 

There was something about the shape of the catcher at your side, safe and warm, like his presence was reaching for yours, aching with yours. Through the stories and the jokes you relished it, and his eyes made it clear that you weren’t alone. And even though the universe made it abundantly clear that you had no idea what would happen next, you didn’t feel any need to hurry. Fate seemed to know what she was doing.

In the darkness of the bar, only Santiago’s eyes saw Frankie’s hand find the small of your back.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien

[holykillercake]

Hazy Justice - 03

01 02 03

🇨‌🇴‌🇵‌!🇸‌🇲‌🇴‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇽‌ 🇲‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇾‌🇩‌🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌!🇷‌🇪‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌

word count: 2.5k

summary: After eight years serving your country in a war, you returned to your hometown as the new head of Trauma Surgery in one of the best hospitals in the country. You were expecting a calmer life now, but suddenly you see yourself choosing between your brain and your heart, light and dark, justice and evil.

highlight: ¨You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.¨

warning:  Use sunglasses. Too bright.

notes: .Dear comrades, it has been a while but it's finally here! With new characters and lots and lots of threads.

🇱‌🇪‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇲‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇱‌🇴‌🇻‌🇪‌!

¨Hello...¨ you were instantly greeted by the tingling doorbells that let the owner know whenever a client entered the establishment. 

Your eyes traveled to the half-moon bar where the slim and tall woman leaned casually, cigarette adorning her elegant fingers. Her eyebrows raised as she took in your figure, double-checking if you were not someone else.

¨Oh! Y/N-chan, is that you?¨

¨Shakky!¨ she made her way out of the bar to hug you ¨It´s so good to see you! You haven´t changed at all!¨

Her kind chuckle made you feel like a kid again, and you couldn´t stop yourself from tearing with the nostalgic feeling.

 ¨Thanks, Baby. Now you,¨ she put her hands on your shoulders and opened a distance, eyes examining you like a mother hawk ¨you look tired. Eight years in war made you no good.¨

You nodded and laughed ¨I guess we can put it that way.¨

¨Come, treat is on the house.¨ 

Clapping your hands, you followed the lady towards the bar. ¨So, where´s Rayleigh-san?¨ 

¨He just left, but it shouldn´t take long. He´ll be happy to see you, Y/N-chan.¨

The circumstances that connect you to Shakky and Rayleigh go way back to decades ago when your parents were still alive. By that time, all you knew was that they were friends, people you could trust. You were not allowed to ask more questions about their jobs, and you couldn´t find a suitable answer with the information you had. 

They were always on the road, visiting only once in a while. They would bring incredible gifts from various countries and discuss ¨adult matters¨ with your parents while Crocodile helped you with homework. 

Whenever you brought up your curiosities to your brother, he would say that they talked about the war, and you were too young to hear such things. Crocodile was also not allowed in the room, but he´d always peer into the conversation through the ventilation ducts. 

If he´s saying, it must be true.  

Since your dad was a Lieutenant Colonel, there was always the possibility of his unit being requested to offer back up or engage actively. You never minded it, though. He had already been sent to a lot of dangerous missions, and he came back every single time. He was strong and invincible. He would always return to his family. 

Well, that was true until the day you found your mother in the kitchen, breaking in tears, holding a smudged letter in her hands, together with your father´s dog tag. 

You stared at her and your brother, blinking in the hope of seeing what was wrong. The woman at the kitchen table did not look like your mother. She had no sparkle in her eyes or pride in her chest.

On the contrary, thick and dark tears fell from her eyes, blurred from the makeup that always accentuated her piercing gaze. Her lips were not curved in the tender smile she used to carry. Instead, she bit her lower lip so hard that you could almost see blood staining her pink lipstick.

¨Dad´s not coming home.¨ was all Crocodile said.

That was not the time when things got completely off track, but it was a significant change in your family's life. The government offered a military pension and a country flag for the services provided by your father. However, you had to be transferred to the Commercial District, where your mother worked as an archivist at the Ohara Institute of Historical Research. 

¨Y/N?¨ you heard a male voice call, making you turn. 

Your eyes shifted between the two male figures standing at the door. ¨Rayleigh-san!¨ you shouted like a kid seeing Santa Claus at the shopping mall ¨Smoker!?¨ this one came out more like a question. 

¨You have grown, little one!¨ he patted your head like old times. ¨Maybe my white hair makes sense. I´ve aged!¨ he laughed cheerfully, and Smoker tilted his head. 

¨Finer than wine!¨ you giggled, then turned to the other white-haired man, cheeks blushing ¨This is, uhm... I swear I´m not following you.¨ 

¨Oh, you two know each other?¨ Shakky asked, adding two more old-fashioned glasses on the counter. 

¨We´re neighbors!¨ 

¨That´s great! Come, we have a lot to talk! Today is on the house!¨ Rayleigh shouted similar words as his wife. You wondered if that was the synchronization of personalities or if the alcohol he had prior was impairing his judgment. 

Shakky decided to close for the day, wanting to spend as much time as possible in your company. The clock seemed to have stopped while you were drinking, eating snacks, and catching up on years of conversation. 

It was funny how sometimes it felt like a ping pong game between you and Rayleigh. Every so often, the conversation would turn into matches of him serving shots of military-wise improper questions and you backhanding with ¨That´s classified information, Rayleigh-san.¨.

Did he have a poor memory or all those years of scotch and cigars in your father´s office taught him nothing? Either way, you were having too good of a time at that table to worry about his faulty memory. 

¨Are you sure you´re neighbors?¨ Shakky asked with a playful grin ¨You seem to know nothing about each other.¨

¨I would say that´s a pretty sharp point.¨ you answered in the same lighted tone. 

¨Tight schedules, I´d say.¨ Smoker added, shifting on the couch.

¨But it looks like you´re free today. How about dinner? Four of us, our house, like old times Y/N.¨ Rayleigh seemed too keen on this, and you wondered if he was trying to set you up on a date. 

¨Well, as much as I would love that, I´ve got plans for tonight.¨ 

¨Let me guess,¨ Rayleigh created a tension ¨classified information?¨ 

You laughed loudly at his stupid joke. It was a predictable Ray-san ice breaker, but you couldn't help yourself. This man was a blissful delight. 

¨Much to your content, tonight´s plan I´ll be able to spill.¨ you teased him ¨I´m having dinner with Crocodile tonight!¨ 

What happened after you pronounced those words would have gone unnoticed by someone inattentive. It felt like a slight change in the air, like those quiet moments before a bomb exploded, when the clock stopped ticking. 

You didn´t have the chance to question before Shakky took the wheel. 

¨That´s great, Y/N!¨ her elegant hands embraced yours, affectionate and caring ¨Did you see how much he´s changed?¨ 

¨Uhm, actually,¨ you blinked, focusing back on the conversation ¨it´s the first I meet him in... eight years.¨ 

The tightness you felt in your chest almost made you tear, and the woman saw it. Her eyes carried a hint of compassion... or pity. 

¨You miss him a great deal, right, Baby?¨ 

¨Yeah...¨ you shrugged ¨he was out of town when I arrived, so I only got the chance now. But how´s he doing? Did he change a lot?¨

¨Oh, baby, it´s been a while since we met. He´s a busy man, you know.¨ 

Your brows raised, then furrowed, and you had a perplexed smile hanging on your lips. You would not have believed those words if they hadn´t come directly from them. 

¨Oh, wha- well, I´ll¨ a nervous laugh left your mouth ¨I´ll drag him by the hair, then! Busy man, bullshit! He used to bug mom and dad all the time, asking why you guys couldn´t live with us!¨

¨Don´t stress yourself over that, Y/N.¨ Rayleigh said with his gentle smile.  ¨He runs a lot of businesses, I´m sure he would drop by more if he could.¨ 

Shakky nodded¨And, it´s your first time in the Light District, right? Was that the only district you haven´t lived in yet?¨

¨That and the Noble District, obviously.¨ you rolled your eyes.

¨You lived in all other districts?¨ Smoker asked after a silent moment in the conversation.

¨Yeah, long story and not that interesting. You´d be bored, trust me.¨ 

¨It´s rather difficult to find someone who lived in more than two districts, so I´d like to hear that.¨ 

¨Alright, but don´t say I didn´t warn you.¨ 

You peeked at your wristwatch, running some basic math in your head and deciding that it was time to go if you didn´t want to be late for dinner. Your lips twisted in a pout, and your expression dropped a little for having to leave this fantastic moment.  

Surprisingly enough, leaving them was not as difficult as you imagined. Maybe because they reminded you that you could visit them anytime now, or because you did not want to act like a crybaby on Smoker´s car. 

He said it was also about time for him to leave and offered you a ride back home. You would not have to take the subway and would get the chance to know him better.

 A win-win situation. 

The first minutes were a bit silent, but after you asked him if he should be driving since he had quite a lot to drink, he responded with an awkward stuttering that was rather charming. The conversation that followed was smooth as you realized he was way easier to talk to than you imagined. 

Smoker was respectful, always making sure that it was ok for you to talk about your past while sharing some things about his life as well. Inside of that car, he almost seemed like a different person. His brows were not furrowed ad his voice sounded relaxed. 

The ride ended too fast for your liking, and you saw yourself waving goodbye when deep down you wanted to ask him to stay for a coffee. Unfortunately, you couldn´t, maybe some other day. Now you had to make yourself presentable to meet your other half, your brother. 

                                                            ...

The Light District was nothing like you had seen before. The entrance was marked by a gigantic golden arch, which carried an equally shining bell.

Tall palm trees swayed in the cool breeze, tinged with orange by the sunset. Luxurious establishments, whose signs began to be lit, occupied both sides of the clear sidewalk. 

From a distance, you could see the tip of the Ferris wheel of the Sora park. It did not spin due to the recess, but the lights remained on. The roller coaster that had been the cause of the accident was surrounded by tall metal poles, being repaired for the reopening of the place.

The driver Crocodile sent to pick you up lowered the window so you could enjoy the view to the fullest. Your hair started to fly in the wind, and a delicious smell of butter invaded your nose. The restaurants had already begun to heat up the pots to receive their customers.

The Light District was projected to offer convenience to the ones who were willing to pay the price. Therefore, all that was best was located in Eldorado Avenue, the main passage that extended for kilometers like a luxurious and soft red carpet. 

¨We are approaching the hotel, miss Y/N. Sir Crocodile awaits for you.¨

¨Uh...¨ you murmured, amazed by the view. 

You squinted when something reflected in your eyes, catching your attention, and a gasp got stuck in your throat when you spotted the famous Hotel Verde.

 Well, it was impossible not to notice it. 

First of all, it did not look like a hotel. It resembled more a small town. Even taller palm trees guided the way towards the entrance, both sides occupied by ponds and tropical plants. The building stood tall like a lighthouse and at the top rested an enormous golden statue of the reptile that represented its owner.  

You did not wait for Daz, the man your brother chose to escort you, to get out when the car stopped. You put yourself out as soon as the limo parked in front of the main stairway. After so many years without putting on a heel, maybe you would accept a hand to go up the stairs.

Your hands smoothed the dark green silk dress that dragged on a short tail, courtesy of Crocodile, along with shoes and jewelry. You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.

When the valet took the car somewhere else, Daz put himself beside you, offering you his arm. Your heart pounded like the Ox Bell at every step, and you breathed through your mouth, trying to keep your cool. 

You saw various types of people coming in and out of the hotel, all of them embellished with jewels and shiny tackles like Christmas trees. Each and every one exalted wealth and power, with their nonchalant glares and pointed noses. Your gut twisted, remembering Shakky and Rayleigh´s words, wishing Crocodile hadn´t turned into someone like them. 

The long stairway was divided in the middle by a golden rail, separating who went up from who went down. That might have been the reason why the man coming down your way caught your attention. Or perhaps it was the weight of his gaze, hidden by the reddish specs. His blonde hair and skin seemed like gold, the pink suit looked orange-ish due to the sunset, and his wide grin made you quiver. 

He walked with two men by his side, freeing the way for him. At some point, no one dared to come close to the stairs. It was only the five of you. 

¨Daz!¨ the man, who seemed more familiar now, exclaimed ¨I wonder who´s the person that would make you leave your boss´back.¨

He approached you, hungry gaze brimming on his tongue. He was tall and seemed even more as he closed the distance. 

¨Not even the luxury dolls get to be escorted.¨ he gently took your hand and kissed your knuckles with delicacy. 

You weren´t convinced by his gesture. If anything, you felt bothered to see him disrespecting the house´s rules, as if that disrespected you directly. ¨Tell me, dear, what is your name?¨

¨If you wish to know something from someone, it is more appropriate to introduce yourself first.¨ your voice came out indifferent and a vein popped on his forehead before breaking into laughter.

¨Fufufu I can´t say you are wrong!¨ he leaned back, large hand on his stomach. ¨I´m Donquixote Doflamingo. It surprised me that you couldn't put that together. Now tell me, doll, what do they call you?¨

You sighed and looked around, spotting a figure at the top of the stairs that lifted your mood and gave you all the strength and confidence you needed to end the conversation. A smile grew on your lips as you turned to Doflamingo, eyeing him with nothing but the will to leave. 

¨They call me Lieutenant-Colonel Y/N L/N, Division Surgeon of the Army. Or just LT Colonel L/N if you prefer.¨ you offered him a respectful nod before turning your attention to the man who waited for you with a smile on his face. ¨Now, if you excuse me, Mr. Donquixote.¨

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Any way we could get like a master list of like Tobias + Rachel moments like “first time they talk about their feelings” and “first kiss” etc? And what book it’s in? If that’s not too much. I love you!!

All right, this is going to be less a master list, more a “things I can think of off the top of my head,” but here it is.

The Non-Definitive List of Rachel/Tobias Milestones:

First crush: #1.  It’s hard to say how much is going on in the background of their first mission, because Jake is a clueless duffer who needs Cassie to explain romance to him and because Jake takes forever to wrap his head around the fact that Rachel is capable of having crushes on boys.  But we know that Rachel is looking at Tobias when she agrees to let the boys walk her and Cassie home, and we know that Rachel immediately jumps to Tobias’s defense when he and Marco start arguing.  Rachel is the most worried about Tobias when the others lose sight of him during that first battle, and the fastest to consider Tobias a part of the group.

Unresolved romantic tension: #3.  Tobias knows he has a thing for Rachel as of this book.  He knows, and he’s not ever planning on doing a dang thing about it, because he’s a bird and she’s a human.  They smash up car commercials together, they hunt for yeerk ships together, and they fly all over town together, but he’s pretty sure they’re going nowhere relationship-wise.  And then Rachel, in the middle of half-drowning in the truck ship’s water tank, starts to say what she needs to say before she dies.  She stays in morph longer than any of the others specifically so that she and Tobias can have this last moment alone.  And Tobias’s response to her near-confession is to grab a dracon beam and go take on an entire yeerk fleet alone.

Acknowledging their feelings: #7.  When the Ellimist comes with his offer, Jake and Marco focus on saving their families, Ax and Cassie go full environmentalist... and Rachel and Tobias are pissed.  Tobias figures out instantly that he’s only there as a human because the Ellimist wants to manipulate Rachel’s emotions through dangling the possibility of de-nothliting her honey-pie in front of her face.  Rachel’s pissed on Tobias’s behalf, Tobias on Rachel’s behalf, and the Ellimist is just deeply amused.

Resolving romantic tension: #12.  When Rachel doesn’t know what to do about the crocodile thing, she goes to Tobias.  When Tobias sees Rachel and Jake headed for another fight, he undercuts it so that Rachel wins.  They banter about Superman and Xena having kids together.  They jerk Marco around together.  They’re a couple already, even if they’ve never even held hands.

First couples’ fight: MM2.  They’re both tired and hungry and injured, to give credit where it’s due, and they’re entitled to get snippy with each other.  It’s also worth noting that they resolve their spat in a pretty healthy way — Tobias acknowledges that he underestimated how hard it would be to control the deinonychus morph, Rachel acknowledges that she underestimated how dangerous the deinonychuses would be, they both acknowledge that they’re not at their best and need to drop the subject until they’re in a better mood.  It’s also when Rachel recognizes that Tobias isn’t, fundamentally, a mere human: she doesn’t reach him through the dino instincts until she pivots from descriptions of fingers and toes and instead reminds him of flying.

Healthiest moment: #23.  Yes, a matter of opinion, but I love how supportive Rachel is toward Tobias throughout this whole book.  She’s quick to reassure him that she doesn’t think it’s weird to eat roadkill, and equally quick to drop the subject when he wants to.  Whatever Tobias needs, from a sympathetic ear to a killer grizzly, she’s happy to help him through this difficult time.

Labeling the relationship: #27.  Bless T.T. and his stupid little 1990s So Cal name.  It takes T.T.’s dimples and his smooth-talking and his sheer ordinariness for Rachel to realize that she doesn’t want dimples or smooth-talking or ordinariness.  She wants the kind of guy who is terrified of water but will become a sperm whale to keep her safe.  She wants a “mouse-eating freak,” because she’s a squid-eating freak herself.  She wants someone around whom she can be ugly, can be vulnerable, can be scared, can be herself.  Also, I love that moment with Tobias commenting that T.T. is “pretty cute, and perceptive too” after T.T. says something unrepeatable about Rachel’s violent tendencies and sense of propriety.

First kiss: MM3.  It’s the moment just after Rachel was “killed” by a cannonball aboard the Trafalager and then pops back up in the middle of Princeton University’s campus.  Tobias runs and grabs her, she smooches him, Marco asks if he can have a kiss as well, the racist dude that Cassie was in the middle of intimidating cries on the floor.  It’s all very romantic.

The L Word: #32.  The whole book is about Rachel learning to reconcile the different sides of herself, but a big part of it is her realizing that Tobias has gone through many of the same struggles.  Tobias knows she’s a killer, and he’s a killer too.  Tobias knows she’s a frightened softie at heart, and he is one too.  Tobias’s entire life has been about him trying to stick together disparate pieces of himself, which is why Tobias is the only thing Mean Rachel and Nice Rachel can agree upon, and it’s why Tobias is the only one whom Rachel wants to see after it’s all over.

Best “battle couple” moment: #36.  A matter of opinion, of course, but I love the moment that the yeerk submarine starts to come apart and Rachel bodily wraps herself around Tobias to protect him.  Honestly the whole motif of them pairing up their battle morphs — hawk-Tobias compensating for bear-Rachel’s major weakness through acting as her eyes and ears, bear-Rachel compensating for hawk-Tobias’s relative delicacy through being the tank of the team — does my heart good.  But I have an extra-large soft spot for this moment because when the shit hits the fan, Rachel’s immediate reaction is to throw her entire body between Tobias and danger.

Picking out furniture: #49.  Yes, Rachel is joking when she tells Tobias that they need to get patio furniture for his meadow, but it’s also an affirmation that they both view this as a long-term thing they’ve got going.  She wants them to have a place together, even if it is a random clearing in the woods with a deeply suspicious number of lounge chairs.

First date: ???  Arguably, Rachel and Tobias never go on a single actual date-date, and I think that’s a lot of the beauty of their utterly unique relationship.  Ones that could count:

Destroying a car commercial in #3.  Although there are hints in #2 that Rachel goes flying alone with Tobias sometimes, this is the first time we actually see them doing something for fun together.

Running around as hork-bajir in #13.  It’s the first time they go on a mission as a couple, the first time they really consider the possibility that they could have a relationship now that Tobias can morph, and the first instance of them using “paired” morphs together.

Tobias’s birthday in #23.  If “date” means sharing a meal together, then by gum Rachel baking an entire cake for Tobias and then having the world’s strangest conversation about his family history while they sit on the floor of her room and eat with their hands has got to count.

The school dance in #29.  This is the first time (that we know of) where they go to a public human gathering as a formal couple.

The opening sequence of #33.  This moment canonically makes “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls their song, and it involves the first real conversation about their future as a couple.

The ending sequence of #33.  EVERYTHING HURTS AND NOTHING IS OKAY at the end of this book, but it also involves them doing human-stuff like hugging and hanging out on the beach followed by them doing raptor-stuff like flying around together, because everyone but especially Rachel is trying to do whatever Tobias needs right then.  It’s also the most emotionally raw moment between them, but one they get through together.

Watching Felicity together in #35.  I love this moment, not in the least because Rachel and Tobias are both like “how dare you interrupt our soap opera with yeerks, Marco?” and it hints at what they’ve been up to in the background of the books they don’t narrate.  It’s also canon that Rachel doesn’t have a TV in her room, so that suggests that human-Tobias and human-Rachel were sacked out on her couch together, possibly while Naomi glared disapprovingly from the door to the kitchen.

Having burgers in #49.  Rachel bringing Tobias McDonald’s is actually the first time they label one of their own meetups as being a date, for what it’s worth.

Most painful moment: #54, duh.  For me it’s a three-way tie between Tobias guiding Rachel through her last battle after she’s blinded by snake venom, Rachel and Tobias both taking on human morph so that they can say goodbye to each other THROUGH A VIEWSCREEN, and Tobias stealing the urn with Rachel’s ashes because he wants her to have a memorial her way.  Ugggghh why do these children wound me so.

[heyheshi]

Roommates...?

1.7k words

written and uploaded: July 30, 2020

🦋 - fluff

Please like and reblog! Also please don't post my writings anywhere!

Here's your request! Hope you like it!

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

_________

It has been almost a week since the last time you've seen Harry and you have to admit - he wasn't bad at all. You expected him to be like the other famous people who think that the world revolves around them but well he is the exact opposite.

He's so down to earth and open-minded about everything, you almost forgot that he's a celebrity during your meal! He was so eager to listen and learn about the town he's going to be staying in.

He's also a proper gentleman. It's common to have your door open up for you if you're on the passenger's seat but what surprises you was that after you parked the car outside of the resto, he went around the car to open up your door - the driver's door!

It didn't stop that, he opened the door of the resto for you and let you in first. Even pulled back your chair for you! The boyfriends of your other friends would be ashamed if they saw him.

Also, he made sure that you won't pay a cent and told you that you can only give the tip - which by the way was also generously given by him already.

You probably looked like a couple that day and you can't deny the fact that you found him interesting... and cute... and really handsome even though he didn't say much about himself and neither do you - just the basics. No one can know that you're infatuated by him, especially your cousin - who for sure is gonna rub the car's magic on you, plus you dropped him off his hotel after you ate.

But it didn't stop you from typing his name on your search engine and looking at his pictures. What can you say, he's an eye candy and you probably won't see him again since you live in the small village of your town and he would probably leave after a few days after all.

But how wrong could you be? Very, super, extremely, tremendously and all the adverb you can think of that have the same meaning as 'so so so wrong'.

You were carrying a tray of your best selling bagels when you saw a familiar head ordering on the counter from the glass on the door of the kitchen.

It's not like you didn't like seeing him - it's just that you're sure that you're going to be all blushy and shy in front of him after developing a crush on the guy.

"2 bagels and a classic tea!", the voice from intercom can be heard through the kitchen and that's when you know that you have to face heaven - oh you mean Harry, soon.

You made a beeline to the pastry display counter with your head hanging low hoping that he wouldn't see you but too late for that.

"Y/N! I didn't know you work here!", well there goes the prince charming, smiling brightly at you while you have to basically snap yourself out of your thoughts.

"Oh, she owns this bakery along with a few other branches.", one of your employees, Kayla, replied to him seeing as you won't be talking anytime soon, then she winked at you.

"Really?!", Harry walked in front of the display counter to talk to you as you finished displaying all the bagels out.

"Yeah, um well you know I own a bakery and this is my first shop, my main outlet.", you smiled a little trying so hard not to blurt anything embarrassing in front of him.

"You look nice.", Harry said but quickly corrected himself trying to play it cool, "what I meant was it was nice seeing you and this place looks cozily chic."

"Thank you. I try, really.", your brain is screaming to not overthink what he said but your cheeks and ear betrayed you, "why don't you take a seat, there's a cute table near the corner if you want some privacy."

"Will you join me? I mean you're the owner and well you're my only friend here in this town so far.", friend - oh well at least you two are friends... right? You really need to shut up now. This isn't how you were acting when you first met him!

"Of course! I'm done working anyway."

"Great! I'll be right there!", with that, he nods his head and strutted to the table on the far end of your shop.

You quickly removed your apron and insisted on bringing his order to him, not before stealing a muffin and a cookie from the kitchen, and getting your water bottle from your bag.

"So how are you liking it here?", you asked Harry while slowly placing his meal on the table for him.

"It's great! I quite like it here actually, my hotel was in the busier part of the town but I don't mind that much. I'm glad I discovered this little village to escape.", Harry explained, taking a bite on the bagel you just made, "mhmm, now I know why this is your best selling pastry."

You laughed at him while shrugging, "thank you, it was a family recipe and I don't let anyone make that bagel, they can make the other pastries but not that one - too sacred."

"I know exactly what you're talking about, it's like writing a song but not letting anyone hear it because it was your baby," H laughed at his own words, "oh, this tea reminds me of how my mum makes my tea, now I miss her.", his face now sporting an overly exaggerated pout after taking a sip of his tea and both of your laughs can be heard from a few tables down.

"Are you planning on going home?", you didn't mean to intrude, you're just curious.

"Oh, so you want me out now? Should've killed you that day!", he joked. If it was another guy, you would've left your seat and never look back but this was Harry we're talking about - and this is not a date.

"Wh- no! I was just asking! Plus we love having you here! You're welcome in our town!", if your mouth hasn't said anything then you wouldn't be blushing and Harry wouldn't be holding his stomach from laughing so hard.

"Oh, so now you love me, huh? That's not what you were saying before!", he was like a switch, before he was laughing so hard bit now his face is stoic without any trace of anything.

"No, what I me-"

"Just kidding! Should've seen your face, love!", now he's back on cackling and he looks adorable and cuddly - shut up Y/N!

"That's not funny...", you guilt-tripped him with your distressed and agitated face.

"I'm sorry!", H was still laughing while putting his hands in the air while you only crossed your arms in your chest.

You two made small talk while scarfing down your foods and asked him the question you didn't know if it should make you ecstatic or nervous about what's to come.

"Why did you said our village is your escape? I thought you already did that when you decided to stay here in our town?", you finished your cookie and drank your water.

"Dunno, this place is peaceful. The main town is great but a lot of fans have been waiting outside of the hotel and I feel like I'm not having the privacy I was looking for the first place, you know?"

"I'm sorry about that. I know this is not an excuse but no celebrity has ever stayed this long in our town that's why they're probably like that...", you looked at him with sympathy in your eyes.

"It's all good. I talked to my friend Jeff about it and he told me that if I'm planning on staying here longer then I should find a place - like a room or an apartment to stay and that's how I found this shop. I was strolling, I don't trust the internet ads, I'd like to look for one myself and that brought me to your neighborhood.", Harry explained and the only words that registered on your mind were "staying here longer".

"That's probably the best idea, not staying long in a hotel - I mean. How long do you think you're staying? Have you found a place?"

"For a few months most definitely. There are barely paps in here and I'm also planning on writing a few of my songs here... and sadly I haven't. Most apartments are on the commercial part of the town and I'm finding somewhere quiet. This kind of neighborhood perhaps.", he explained to you and you cannot stop your mouth from blurting out the next few words.

"I just bought a house a few blocks in this village and well I have an extra room...", well that was fast, your mind screams at you while you shut your eyes tightly.

"Are you offering me to be your roommate or housemate? I don't wanna seem desperate but you're pretty much the only person I know in here and I like this village so I'm not turning your offer down.", Harry eagerly replied to you but still keeping his cool intact.

"I think I am..."

"Really? Wow, thank you! Don't worry, I'm a good roommate - if the offer is still valid!", you and Harry both chuckled at that while standing in your seats.

"Well then, why don't I take you on a tour and show you the house? The village is full of families it's really peaceful here. And I'm not always home so you won't be bothered by me!", you joked at him as you went back to the shop's kitchen to get your things and say goodbye to your employees.

"Oh I know I'm the one who'll be bothering you a lot!", Harry opened the door for you as he joked.

"We'll see!", you just winked at him and walked in front of him while he jogged to catch up to you.

You introduced Harry to the village and showed him around your house. Hopefully, he'd like your home enough to be roommates with you.

_____

[slashingdisneypasta]

Offenderman x Reader || Oneshot

Title: When You Start Living Your Life- That’s Where You’ll Find The One Who’s Meant For You

Notes: 

This is like a baby Offender x Reader since its been a while I’ve written anything for him and I’m slowly dipping myself back, haha. Possibly a Part 2 in the works, with more of the man himself. 

Kinda based off ‘You Can Do Better Than Him’ from Bonnie and Clyde

Plot: A run-in with your ex-husband (Jeff The Killer’s son, for no apparent reason except so that he knows about Offender) causes a revalation between you and your lover. 

Warnings: Some talk about sex, but its not explicit. Also, divorce. 

~~~

I see him before he sees me, and I try to make an escape. Started gathering up my things and putting them away in my bag for departure, but... goddamn it, he sees me. “Y/N! Didn’t see you there! Man- its good to see you. Its been a bit, hasn’t it?” Nick puts his hands nervously in his pants pockets, ducking his head like the cute, awkward duckling that he is.

I plaster a smile onto my face, looking up at him from the grass. Jesus Christ, this is a ridiculous position. He’s like 7000 feet tall, my neck is going to start hurting any minute now. “Hi, Nick. Yeah, it has been a while! I haven’t seen you around since, a-ah… “I seal my lips firmly together, trying to be content in just avoiding eye contact with him instead of ending that sentence. Don’t say it. Don’t say it, don’t- “The divorce!”

“Aha,” He ducks glances up at me, and his smile is bright like it always has been, since we started dating. The smile I fell in love with, and used to make me feel on top of the world- capable. Like everything was going to be okay and I could accomplish any and all of my dreams.

Of course, one of those dreams was him… I think. That didn’t work out so great…

“Yeah. First meeting since the divorce, huh? Not so bad.”

That really does probe a grin from me. How does he say that while not making eye contact with m- Oh, oh, he is making eye contact! Oh, lord. This is hard. “Hah, no! Guess not… “After flashing another, little smile, I tuck in the last of my things to my satchel and close it. Then I struggle to my feet. God, how long have a been sitting there? I look back at the spot of ground that I had been lounging on, and see the grass still completely flat…  

Before I make it all the way up or fall -whichever happened first,- , Nick takes my right forearm in his hand and puts his other on my waist, helping me up the rest of the way… which puts me at an uncomfortably close distance to him. Laughing nervously, I step back and occupy myself by patting dirt and grass off the back of my pants. “Um- how have you been? Uh,” I must have some information about him… didn’t Fran tell me something a month ago at our spa weekend? … Ah! “Fran said you got promoted at work?”

“Yeah!” Nick gets an excited glitter to him as he starts to talk about that, animating immediately and putting his hands on his hips- a huge beam stretches across his gentle, handsome features. Of course, the sun makes fluffy blonde hair look radiant like a fabric softener commercial. Reminds me of why I loved him.

I was determined not to fall in with a bad boy and get my heartbroken like all the girls on TV.

Turns out, it hurts just as much when you lose a good boy.

Its been a long time though, now. Half a year- and another half a year since we split up in the first place to get the divorce that became official 6 months ago. So, as he talks, I find a genuine smile come to my lips. I am, truly, glad that he’s doing well.

Of course, he never did anything, to me. The divorce was my fault.

When he’s finished talking about his job at the Oil and Gas company -Yeah, he’s a manager there. An awesome job, for the perfect guy. He was quite a catch before I ruined it, -, he asks me how I’d been… and if I’m still with… him. Nick’s pale blue eyes go dark, an obvious hatred deepens the creases in his face.

I wish he wouldn’t bring that up. We were having such a nice moment!

“Uh,” I seem to be doing a lot of ‘Uhhhh’s and ‘Ummm’s, here. Stop it, Y/N. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” He smirks, and I go pink in embarrassment.

“Well, uh- Well. I’m focusing on my own shit.” I strain the words ‘my own’. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know how to describe my relationship with… the ‘him’, that Nick refers to. Offender. And the thing is, I don’t really want to. I like the way things are. I don’t need a boyfriend, tying me down to one place, one job, one life. In fact, that was a huge problem with me and Nick. He was my first boyfriend and became my husband.

I was Y/N Woods for 3 whole years, and they were some of the most miserable of my life- and the thing is, I’m only starting to realise that, now. I didn’t know how profoundly unhappy I was during that time, when I was living it. But I know now, because when I’m with Offender I feel something dark, but good, that I never allowed myself to experimented with before, and when I’m not with him I can do whatever the hell I want. I have love, and sex, and freedom. That’s priceless.

“Right. You still think… “Nick, to his credit, does look regretful for what’s about to come out of his mouth and how. “You really think, that Offenderman, can actually care about you?”

I shrug. I have no reservations for saying what I do next. I have it lined up and ready. “I dunno, Nick. But I’m happy.”

Its that simple.

“Y/N, he’s awful.”

“I-I know… “In this moment though, all I can remember is him telling me that I own the earth I step on, and how he kisses me.

“You deserve someone better.”

My mind’s fuzzy with pictures of nights at my apartment, now. Me wearing a shirt that’s too big for me and not being self-conscious of my legs - the complete opposite, actually, - and him raiding my kitchen. Somehow his kiss still always tastes good, though. No matter what he eats. Bates Motel plays on the TV.

If a scene comes on the TV that looks good, its not out of the ordinary to replicate it- because we just can. Whether that be a recipe, trip, or something to do with sex. I hadn’t even realised you could just do things like that, before he showed me. Now it seems simple, of course…

And god fucking damn it. The sex, in the first place is better. And I’m fiucking allowed to acknowledge that. I like sex. There is nothing wrong with that. With Nick, it was planned. It was orderly, and status quo. Now sexual tension’s back in style for me, for the first time since Nick and I had our first time together and I am not giving that up.

Better than that, Nick??

“I tried that.” I snap, spine breaking finally. Is he really going to do this? Bring all this back? Glancing momentarily to set a stony look on his eyes, I pull my back up from the floor and place the strap heavily on my shoulder. He presses his lisp firmly together. “Didn’t turn out so good.”

“W- well, that was before. I’m different now, we would be happy.” My throat goes dry at Nicks words. Isn’t he over me yet? Over this? All we do is go around and around in circles. I need something else, and so does he. Why doesn’t he see that? Goddamnit… “I get that you needed- “I flash him a stern look. “Need. You need your space. I understand now, I like it to. But you’re going to have to settle down with someone eventually- and you know it should be me.”

“Nick… no.”

“No, I have to- “

“Nick!”

“You want kids, I know you do. I know you. I’ve known you since we were six. You’ve always been sweet, and bright, and gentle. I remember you drawing picture, after picture, after picture of that big blue house with a picket fence and remember the talks we had when we were older about the kids we would have. You think he’ll give you these things??” Nicks facial expression right now, is that of a desperate man. He gathers my hands into his and holds them close to his body. “He won’t.”

“I know that.” I tear my hands out from between his and speak slowly, so he gets it. “And I’m not that little girl anymore, Nick!”

Jesus Christ, this has gone south fast. I need to go.

Adjusting the bag strap over my shoulder, I make like I’m going to leave but Nick speaks up again before I can step off. “It’s a phase! -“

“Nick, goddamnit! I’m 29 years old! Get the fuck away from me with this phase, shit. I’m a grown woman. Now… “I glare at him, stepping by him. “It was nice seeing you. Bye.”

Walking off, I put my hands on my face and take a deep breath of the parks fresh air. I can still feel his gaze on me, and it doesn’t feel good.

But standing up to him, did.

Freedom.

Stopping by the bathrooms before my car, I fix my hair and look in the mirror. I can’t come back to this park, now! I’m going to need to find a new hang out spot… Pouting, I fix the strap once again over my shoulder and briefly think about whether Nick will be waiting outside - He knows what my car looks like! And the number plate, probably! – and worry, but then out of nowhere hands wrench me around and press me into the bathroom wall.

Its Offender, so I don’t panic except take a deeeeeep breath from being taken by surprise and look up at him sternly. Good god.

“Don’t underestimate me, Y/N.” 

Oop, he sounds… moderately to extremely less chill then usual.

“… huh?” I’m confused. What’s going on?

“The park. In the park. What happened in the park- What the smile child’s idiot son said.”

I could not be more lost right now… The absurdity of this situation - after just having a run-in with my ex-husband who I left for the uncomfortably intimidating man who’s cornered me into a wall in a public bathroom,- mixed with the lack of context he’s giving me causes the most sincere look of confusion I have possibly ever made. “Which… Which part?”

He speaks in a voice that is somehow spot on, a carbon copy of Nick’s and for a second I’m starstruck about that until I realise Offender was listening somewhere to what was going on between Nick and I- and now he’s pissed. “’You really think, that Offenderman, can actually care about you?’, ‘You think he’ll give you these things? He won’t.’. Y/N, don’t underestimate me.”

“So… what does that mean?”

A dangerous grin tears across his sharp, wicked mouth. “I care a lot about you, kid.”

[sambergscott]

i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

[galaxyshine24-7]

Feng Min🎮 Before the Fog

Hey I made a small introduction to Feng Min on her last day in her world for a rp server I’m on and wanted to share it. Her character is so cool but I hear not a lot of people write for her so I wanted to give some love to this gamer girl. I hope you enjoy. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Feng, Feng Min, Feng!" Feng jolts up from her chair as the owner of the internet café gives her a concerned look. Feng looks around as her screen shows a large Game Over screen in front of her. 

    "Damnit," Feng brushes her fingers through her hair wiping the stream of drool on her face. The area around her was filled with wrappers and napkins as a blanket rests over her shoulders. 

    "Feng listen you've been here for days." The owner rests a hand on her shoulder. Feng frowns at him rubbing the crust from her eyes. 

    "Maybe go home take a shower and rest a bit. Trust me the games will always be here." He pats her on the back as he goes to help out a customer. Dark brown eyes look over the screen as she leans back in the chair crossing her arms. Her head throbs as she takes a deep breath slowly getting up from the chair. 

    Shit just great, another game over. She thinks to herself as she cleans her station and starts to pack up her things. All the wrappers and empty cups of coffee from the previous days end up in the bin. As she walks to the entrance she makes sure to place a large tip for the owner having to deal with her for the past few days. Her hand opens the door wincing a bit at the light she hasn't seen in what felt like ages. She coughs fishing through her pockets to find a simple black mask. The air quality has never been the best in the heavy parts of the city. People pass by her going about their lives in a sea of blurs. Feng looks straight ahead, her mind focusing on strategies and her next moves. A person bumps into her, but she doesn't notice making the track back to her apartment. 

    The building was placed in the middle of the serval internet cafes and arcades giving her enough access to training when need be, and as of lately the bars have been pretty good too. She squeezes through the bodies trying to move in and out of the complex. 

    "Ms. Feng Min your rent is due soon." The landlord said from the front desk.

    "Can't talk now, I will have it later." She waves her off hopping on the elevator. The doors are about to close until someone places their hand out making them open up again. A woman wearing a bright smile greets her squeezing into the elevator. She steps in seeing the button was already pressed for her floor.

    "Hello good morning." She smiles sweetly. 

    "Hi," Feng lets out a sigh resting her head on the wall. 

    "Rough day?" The woman asks. 

    "Rough Life." Feng blurts out a bit surprised at herself, she must be tried, she's being social. That's a huge red flag. 

    "Aw I'm sorry to hear that. Your name is Feng right?" Her brown eyes narrow at the women. 

    "How did you know that?" She crosses her arms.

    "Oh I live next door to you." She tilts her head. Feng raises a brow. 

    "You know Maryann, I lived by you for three years, I gave you muffins for the holidays." Oh she threw away those muffins. She always waited too long to eat them. However with the way her stomach twists right now she wishes she had eaten them. Her eyes dart to the sparkly ring on the woman's finger. 

    "Married?" Might as well go all the way into this socializing thing, it's not like she does it every day. 

    "Engaged going to be married soon." She smiles looking at the ring with such warmth foreign to Feng. Like she has ever had time for relationships all she wanted to do was win, watching her team deal with them and get distracted didn't do much to convince her they were worthwhile. 

    "Congrats." With a large stretch the elevator opens as they both step out. 

    "Thank you we've made so many plans for a house upstate, with nice schools for kids when they came around. I can't wait, we're already thinking of names."

    Were my parents this happy thinking about kids? It's so hard to imagine how they barely talk now. She wonders what stops them from having more children to cover the mistake that is her.

    They walk for a bit as they reach their rooms. Feng takes out her key, opening up her dark apartment. 

    "Well it was nice talking to you Feng have a nice day." She waves. Feng gives her a small smile stepping into her home closing and locking the door behind her. It was a dark loft apartment with plush furniture and high tech gaming equipment. Posters littered the walls and trophies adorn the shelves picking up dust. She throws her things on the couch pressing the button to open the blinds to a full city skyline. The money she made in tournaments helped her afford all this. Being among the highest to show that she could win. Rain starts to fall along the glass as she peels away from the view to head upstairs to shower. She finds her more comfy clothes heading to the bathroom. 

    Turning on the water she undresses stepping inside welcoming the warm water as it cascades down her hair and back. Her forehead presses against the cool tile as she counts her breaths. It's been six weeks, six agonizing weeks since she was ordered to take a break from the team after her recent mistakes costing tournaments, she even got kicked out of the dorms. She punches the wall as a wave of disappointment passes over her. She can't lose, she can't lose, she has come so far. Only to fall now in her prime would be pathetic and every doubt everyone made about her would be true. She couldn't count the thousands of comments in the fan forums all of them saying she was losing her touch. That she was only a one hit wonder, a smile creeps onto her face. She would show them she would so all of them. Her determination was too strong to give up. 

    "Fuck that." She would rather die than give up a game she knows she can win. The goal was so close she could feel it. She was so close to her purpose. 

 She steps back finishing her shower, now that she's more awake she can realize how dirty she was as stains cover her old shirt and the pits are ripe with sweat. 

    "Gross," She tosses everything in the hamper turning off the water. She looks in the mirror wiping away the fog. Black hair sticks to her pale skin as dark eyes stare back at her. She can't remember the last time she looked at herself. As she grew thinner or as she gained weight. She couldn't even tell anymore. Drying herself off she shakes her head cleaning herself up changing her clothes. After she blows, dries her hair until it untangles and is soft again. When she's done she cracks her knuckles heading back downstairs hoping to get some practice in on her console but her stomach growls loudly. 

    "Shit," her stomach hasn't seen a full meal in days. She could order take out, but she knows she needs to get outside more. With a large yawn and a pop of her back she grabs her bag and keys. Her feet step out into the apartment once more locking the door behind her. Leaving the building a few hours have past since she as been in her apartment getting ready. She thinks about what she wanted to do pulling up her hood and putting her mask back on. Feng fumbles in her bag taking out her earphones to play a soundtrack from her favorite game. The rain falls around her but she doesn't mind welcoming the sensation. She has forgotten how much she missed playing outside. In a time when her parents weren't so disappointed in her and splashed in the puddles at the park. A time the world was so new and she wasn't a black sheep to anyone. A laugh escapes her mouth, maybe there was a time people liked being around her. She didn't really do much out of gaming but anyone could see that fact. The smell of food fills her nose as a restaurant comes into view. It's a place she's been to before and liked what they had there. Authentic Chinese food reminded her of what her family's chefs would make. She opens the door getting a whiff of the food a bit more now. 

    The restaurant was a family run establishment creating a cozy feel as a fire runs in the background. Pictures of past customers all smiling hang on the walls.

    "Would you like a table Ma'am?" A man asks her. 

    "Table for one please." The man takes out one menu sitting Feng down at the bar. She already knows what she wants as she hands back the menu just asking for water to drink. The man smiles nodding his head going to get her order. She looks at the tv listening to the sounds of the chefs cooking in the kitchen. The tv shows a news report talking about the esports tournaments. She rubs her temple, she really doesn't need this right now. 

    "Last month the popular esports team lost the primary rounds, however it wasn't always like this. Since the teams current decline fans have been reminiscing the past wins of the team." She puts her head in her hands as someone asks to turn it up. "One name that always comes up is the player Shining Lion. Otherwise known as Feng Min, a star in the field who won her team the championship cup." They show Feng Min with her team carrying the shining trophy that now sits in her apartment as it lost its luster. Her smile was wide and her eyes filled with joy. She remembers every moment of that day hearing the crowds chant her name and the phone calls she got afterwards for commercial deals and TVs shows, collabs with famous gamers she looked up to, but that day her parents actually told her she did a good job. That was something she never forgot. 

    Her food comes back as she begins to eat and the reporter moves on to other stories. The food was as good as she remembered loving each bite as all her problems seem to melt away. That was until a voice rang in the back of her. 

    "That's Shining Lion, dude she's over there." Her shoulders drop stabbing her chopsticks in her dumplings. She slowly turns around to see a few kids staring at her. One kid shushes the others as he walks over fiddling with his fingers. 

    "Um excuse me Ms. Lion can you please take a picture with us." She looks at her food then at the kid. His eyes looked at her with such adoration. 

    "Sure kid I'll take a picture." She couldn't say no to a face like that.  

    "Awesome, and don't worry my parents owned the restaurant. I can pay you back in dumplings." She snorts at that. Huh, she can't remember the last time she laughed either. They stand in the back as him and his friends take turns posing in pictures with her. 

    "Thank you so much, you were always my favorite in the team, I wanna be just like you some day." The boy said as his friends nod in agreement. 

    "Thanks," She brushes her hair behind her ear. The boy then looks down as the others start to look sad. Feng raises a brow at that tilting her head as one of them speaks up. 

    "We are sorry to hear the news." The one that called out to her before said.

    "Yeah the team is full of a bunch of idiots for getting rid of you." Her stomach sinks to the floor at that. 

    "What?" She was a bit breathless. The boy takes out his phone showing her the team's official website. It rests on the screen in bold letters. Feng Min Known as Shining Lion will hereby be cut from the team for the foreseeable future her space will be filled by a new up and comer. She looks back at the kids then at the phone this message was a few hours ago. 

    "Is everything okay?" The kids look at her concerned as Feng stands up taller now. 

    "Yes, don't worry about it." She walks away, placing down a large bunch of cash as she walks out the restaurant pulling out her phone. She has the team's manager on speed dial as she waits under a street light for her to pick up. 

    "Hello," Feng clutches her phone.

    "Feng uh hey, um listen we need to talk." They say over the phone. 

    "Cut the bullshit, I know, I saw the message. Why the fuck did you cut me, I was on a break I would've been back in gear in a few days." She starts to shake a bit wanting to throw up. 

    "Feng the team and I have been talking and I don't think it's been getting healthy for you to stay." They try to say softly. 

    "What?! And replacing me with someone else without a fucking word was going to make me better!" She shouts, several heads turn towards her as she moves into the alley to sit on a step, her leg jumping up and down.

    "Feng it's not like that, listen the team hasn't been doing well and you have been slipping. As much as you are advantaged you are much more of a liability. Especially with your drunken escapades that you can't seem you remember. It's just...not a good look for us please understand." Feng forms a tight line as she throws her phone to the ground cracking the screen. The rain falls harder as tears fall from her eyes. She leans her head back looking at the sky. The sun starts to set over the city. She stays there for what feels like hours, her soul sinking into a pit. A pit she's trying to crawl out of, enough to where her nails draw blood. Thunder roars overhead as she slowly gets up, grabbing her broken phone and placing it in her pocket as she walks aimlessly throughout the city. So much for her purpose to think all that hard work only to have to do it all over again. She kicks a rock as a neon sign catches her attention. It's a bar having a deal on drinks. 

    "Of course." A sad smile creeps into her face. The comfort she always tries to escape always finds itself in front of her again. What did she have to lose? Boots splash into puddles as she walks up to the bar hearing the drunken cheers of people. Feng walks inside the dim establishment taking a seat in the back ordering a round of beer for herself. She drinks, and drinks, and drinks letting everything in her world drown out. Leaving only thoughts of winning, maybe it's just hopeful thinking but she's going to get out of this pit and rise above it all. She will find her purpose even if it kills her. After a few bottles she pays and leaves the bar walking around the city until she finds a nice trash pile to fall into. The alcohol was getting to her as she looked at the black sky. It's so endless to her you never know what's out there. Whatever the future holds she will find her purpose she will win no matter what. Her eyes grow heavy as her body grows cold. A cloud of fog escapes her lips as it starts to surround her, but before she could react she gets pulled into the embrace of sleep as a spike of determination fills her core. She gets shocked with a wave of electricity as a haunting laugh greets her in the darkness.

And with that Feng was never seen again.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Be Mine”- A Sunshine AU Drabble

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: Language, some mentions of smut, it’s mostly cute

Genre: Married Life AU

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!

“Is that the best you can do?” I groaned, fixing Hyunjin with what I hoped mimicked the effect of Jeongin’s notorious puppy dog eyes.

Instead, my best friend and business partner scoffed, grabbing a towel to wipe away the flower painting the side of his cheek. “What the hell did you expect? You tell me to bake your husband a cake an hour before we’re supposed to close!”

I winced at his tone, realizing that Hyunjin's frustrations were completely warranted. But I was growing increasingly desperate, especially while the clock continued to tick away in the background. Because, like the forgetful idiot that I was, I totally missed the giant heart circling today’s date on the calendar in my bedroom. 

In my defense, I was completely disoriented after Jisung woke me up between my legs this morning, tongue circling against my clit with urgent movements. It was the first sign that I should’ve been paying more attention as opposed to losing myself to a well-deserved orgasm. "Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N,” Jisung said with an arrogant smirk, clearly proud of his early morning efforts.

Of course, there was also the additional surprise of pancakes waiting for me in the kitchen. My plate was stacked high with the doughy breakfast food shaped into misformed little hearts. Bless his soul, but Jisung was definitely inept when it came to cooking. 

I ate quietly, trying to ignore the way Jisung watched me from the counter, cheeks squished between his palms. “It’s good,” I lied to him, trying my best not to choke on the burnt edges, but it was worth it to see Jisung’s face light up with his beautiful smile.

“Baby,” Jisung had finally stopped me on my way out the door, pulling me into a passionate kiss. “I’ll see you later tonight. I have something special planned for you.”

Fuck. My. Life.

“Hyunjin, I’m so screwed,” I groaned, pulling the tiny cake closer to me. “Thank you for this.”

“Y/N forgot Valentine’s Day again,” Hyunjin sighed, reaching behind him to undo the strings holding his apron together. “What a surprise.”

I glared at him because I was determined not to make a repeat of last year when Jisung had spent a fortune on a new pair of earrings to offer as a gift for the cheesy Holiday. I remember accepting them hesitantly, wondering why my husband felt the need to buy me jewelry. “What’s this for?” I had chuckled, feeling my heart sink in my chest when I recognized the familiar look of disappointment in Jisung’s eyes. 

“It’s a stupid holiday,” I muttered. “I don’t understand why Jisung even likes it so much.”

“He’s a hopeless romantic,” Hyunjin said, tone rising dramatically. “But yours truly will celebrate at home. Alone. With a case of beer and a bag of stale pretzels.”

“Good for you, Jinnie,” I teased him, patting his shoulder while he glared at me from the corner of his eye. “Close up shop, yeah? I have to run through the streets begging someone to sell me some flowers.”

“Whatever, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “You should be more grateful that you have someone to celebrate this hellish day with.”

“I’m beyond grateful,” I said, rolling my eyes as I dismissed him curtly, wrapping my jacket tighter around my shoulders when I walked outside.

I felt like a complete imbecile driving through the empty streets of the city, looking out my windows for any familiar sign of those ridiculous flower stands that popped up rampantly around this time every year. Yet, another obvious warning that I had blatantly ignored which could’ve saved me a lot of grief when it came to pleasing my husband. For once in my life, I’d like to feel more prepared for Valentine’s Day because Jisung enjoyed it so much and I always felt obligated to entertain the things he liked even if I didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“Aha!” I cheered triumphantly when I spotted a bright neon pink cart set up outside an empty diner. I parked my car as close as possible, locking the door behind me before approaching the stand with determination. 

“Evening,” the owner greeted me with a faint hint of amusement which I chose to ignore as I scoured my few pathetic choices.

“I guess I’ll have those,” I said, indicating my hand in the direction of a modest bundle of flowers that definitely had been turned over by countless other patrons who had probably enjoyed a much more vibrant selection.

“Of course,” the man agreed. “That’ll be fifty dollars.”

“Fifty dollars!” I exclaimed, frowning at the wilting bundle of roses. “What the hell?”

“Valentine’s day is almost over,” the man shrugged. “It’s about time for the really desperate ones to come out.”

“I’m not desperate!” I lied, muttering under my breath as I reached into my wallet. “Just give me the damn bouquet.”

The man smirked, snatching my money while handing me the saddest excuse for Valentine’s Day flowers I had ever seen. Still, at least it would be something thoughtful to give Jisung as I hurried back to my car. I had about half an hour to make it home since my husband had insisted on making dinner for the two of us, something I protested whole-heartedly because Jisung was a nightmare in my kitchen. However, regardless of my protests, nothing could stop Jisung when he was set on doing something. I could only hope that he managed to keep the heat on medium when he was cooking Ramen.

I reached back into my coat pocket for my discarded keys, growling when I realized that a parking ticket was stuck underneath my windshield wiper. “Fuck,” I cursed, groping for the door handle of my car before gently placing the flowers down in the front seat. I glared at the ticket before tossing it on top of the dashboard. “Who the hell is patrolling the meters this late at night?” 

Of course, there was nobody present to address my grievances, leaving me to stew quietly by myself as I maneuvered my car onto the highway. 

Ever since I could remember, my husband always insisted on celebrating Valentine’s day with the most passionate displays of declaring the modest “I love yous” we always shared on our way out the door in the mornings. I had never properly understood his obsession with the Holiday as I made no secret of my own dislike for the commercialized occasion. I mean, who does Walmart actually think they are by charging over three dollars for a box of marshmallows with chocolate on top?

Distracted by my unpleasant brooding, I turned off the exit ramp without remembering the brand new traffic light the state had recently built to control rowdy teenagers who liked to handle the curve at maximum speed. The bright red of the light caught me completely off-guard and I slammed on breaks instinctively, realizing too late that the jarring movement had sent my precious cake careening into the floorboard. 

“NO!” I cried, resisting the urge to bang my head against the steering wheel when I looked down and saw Jisung’s cake had tragically been completely destroyed, flowers joining the terrible mess that would be impossible to clean. “What the actual hell,” I bemoaned, searching for a spare tissue to try and at least clean the icing from my leather seats. 

When the light turned green, I eased out into the intersection knowing that I now had nothing to give Jisung for Valentine’s Day. The thought was rightfully sobering and I pulled into our apartment complex with a heavy heart because there was no back-up plan waiting to save me. I was left with nothing and my husband would suffer the consequences of yet another year of my poor planning. 

As soon as the ignition was off, I did my best to reform the cake and gather the flowers together. It was pathetic, both their appearance and my blatant disregard for appropriate planning. “I’m sorry, Jisung,” I whispered into the cold night air, holding the pathetic excuse for a cake tightly in my arms as I entered our building. 

I wrestled with my keys at the front door, managing to catch the lock before using my foot to help me inside with what was left of my Valentine's Day surprise. With a deep sigh, I placed the cake and flowers on our side table, studying them as I tried not to imagine Jisung’s reaction to my gifts. “Y/N!” he sang, peeking his head out of the kitchen wearing an adorable smile. “Guess what?”

“Hmm?” I feigned noncommittally, hanging up my coat before fidgeting with the cake and flowers on the side table. 

“I made dinner!” Jisung said. “And I didn’t burn the kitchen down.”

“I’m proud of you, babe,” I told him sadly, wondering if the Universe was conspiring against me in its determination to ruin my marriage on the one day of the year meant to celebrate love.

“How was your day?” Jisung asked from the kitchen.

“Fine,” I grimaced. “What about you?”

“It was interesting,” Jisung said. “Come here for a second. I want you to look at the cards my kids made for me.”

I put on my best smile, accepting a kiss from Jisung before my husband was ushering me against the counter. “Aren’t they adorable?” he asked, shuffling through the tiny Valentine’s cards decorated with a variety of familiar cartoon characters. 

“I Dumble-ADORE you,” Jisung giggled, handing me the Harry Potter themed card. It reminded me distantly of my own childhood where I would drag my mother through the grocery store, determined to find the best box of childish cards for my classmates.

“To the most handsomest teacher,” I read, offering Jisung a mischievous look. “Does this little Sarah have a crush on you?”

“She’s just a kid,” Jisung said, fingers nimbly massaging the skin at the back of my neck. 

“It’s okay,” I grinned. “I understand her opinion.”

“Is that so?” Jisung questioned, pulling me in closer from his grip around my waist, offering me a searing kiss that ignited a familiar desire to bend over the nearest piece of furniture for my husband. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, releasing me despite my whine as he started to arrange our plates. I wasn’t surprised to see that Jisung had created a romantic set-up in the dining room complete with a pastel-pink tablecloth decorated with our finest wine glasses and cutlery. There were even a few lit candles arranged with the centerpiece. 

“You worked hard, I see.”

Jisung offered me a sheepish smile. “Do you not like it?”

“Of course I like it, babe,” I said, taking a seat next to him at the table. “I know you did your best.”

Jisung filled my plate with a steamy offering of whatever delicious concoction he had somehow created. “It’s some kind of pasta.”

“You don’t know?” I questioned, enjoying the way Jisung’s ears turned red at the accusation.

“Changbin might have helped.”

“Hmmm,” I giggled, reaching for the wine bottle. “Does that really count, Sungie?”

“Well, I bought the wine myself.”

“And I’m so very proud of you for it.”

I carefully poured us both a glass, sipping the delicate liquid. “An appropriate choice.”

“Yeah? Minho recommended it.”

“Jisung,” I laughed. “I feel deceived.”

 “Don’t worry,” Jisung reassured me. “Your present was completely my idea!”

I stuffed another bite of food into my mouth at the mention of a gift. “Oh?”

“I think you’ll love it,” Jisung said, obviously very excited at whatever thoughtful present he likely purchased for me again this year. Unlike my unsuitable offering still sitting on the side table.

Jisung continued to fill the majority of our conversation, talking about a new assistant principal at his Elementary school. Meanwhile, I tried to maintain a neutral expression, hoping that Jisung wouldn’t notice how nervous I was about whatever he had planned to give me that would pale in comparison to my wrecked cake and dying flowers. But I was naturally a bad gift giver, you could ask any of our closest friends. They would all recount a similar nightmarish scenario involving my inability to understand the basic mechanics behind the concept of exchanging gifts.

“Join me in the bedroom,” Jisung eventually said, gathering our plates together while I tried not to hyperventilate.

I stood up to fix my skirt, returning to the foyer to find the cake and flowers waiting for me mockingly. I grabbed both meager selections, managing the walk of shame to our shared bedroom at the other end of the hallway. Soft music played from inside and I briefly entertained the idea of a fully naked Jisung splayed out across our bed like some kind of filthy pornography.

But I probably wouldn’t get laid after Jisung saw my cake and flowers.

“Sungie,” I said, stepping inside the room only to find Jisung fully-clothed and waiting next to our dresser with hands behind his back. 

“Babe,” he said, smile contorting into a frown as he realized what I was balancing precariously between my hands. 

“I’m sorry,” I sighed in defeat. “I got you a cake and flowers but they didn’t survive the trip home.”

I gently deposited the cake and flowers on our desk. “Y/N...”

“I ruined it again,” I cried, falling back against the bed before he could finish his sentence. “Jesus, Sungie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I tried so hard to make this special for you, but I always manage to ruin everything.”

“Baby,” Jisung said, crawling onto the mattress next to me. “What are you talking about?”

“The stupid cake and flowers!” I exclaimed, covering my eyes with my hands. “I just don’t understand,” I sighed. “I mean, I guess it’s alright, but I don’t really get why you love Valentine’s day so much.”

Jisung smiled, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “February 14th,” Jisung said. “The day Y/N told me that she loved me for the first time.”

I froze at his unexpected explanation, my next deprecating sentence dying as soon as my lips were forming the words. “What?”

“Babe,” Jisung sighed fondly, leaning down so that we were at eye level. “I don’t really care about the gifts, but I always make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day because it means so much to me. It would be enough for me if we just sat together on the couch all day and watched those sappy soap operas you like.”

I didn’t realize I was crying at his tender resolution until his fingers were carefully capturing each successive drop. “Jisung, why the hell are you determined to turn me into mush?”

Jisung chuckled, kissing my forehead with affection. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be Y/N if she was actually organized,” Jisung said, fingers carding through my hair while I leaned against his chest. “And, for the record, I actually like the cake and flowers, even if they weren’t necessary.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I mumbled against his shirt. “They’re both terrible.”

“I would never lie to you,” Jisung gasped with feigned outrage while I rolled over on top of him, planting my hands on either side of my head. “Are you interested in what I got for you?”

I nodded eagerly, allowing him to rise slowly with one hand maintaining a grip around my waist. He reached behind him for the discarded box and held it out for my awaiting hands. I gasped when I realized what was waiting inside, shimmering brilliantly under the lights. “It’s sort of like a replacement,” he said, nodding to the wedding ring I wore on my finger, compliments of a very nice discount Jisung received at the pawnshop. He had been so embarrassed when he offered it to me back then, promising to find something better in the future. But even now I made sure to tell Jisung that I loved both rings equally because they came from him and that’s all I cared about. “Beautiful,” he declared when I slipped it on next to my other ring. “Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N,” Jisung murmured soothingly.

And I sighed happily in return. “Happy Valentine’s day, Sungie.”

[harley-sunday]

A Good Man Goes to War [Prologue]

Summary: Starts right after Civil War. Steve Rogers is done being Captain America and quite happy living a quiet life in a safe house somewhere in Canada. Until Thanos goes after the Infinity Stones. What happens when a good man goes to war? 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (f) Could be read as reader insert.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2K

Entry for @browngirlmagic​‘s writing challenge. My prompt was “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

AN: Uh, so yeah. I thought this would be a simple oneshot, but then the backstory happened and before I knew I was over 12k words in and so had to divide into multiple parts. Oh well. It happens. Also, I have never actually finished a story before publishing it online, so you can expect regular updates :) Third, I used to big a very big Doctor Who fan and so I always wanted to do something with this prompt and so here we are! This is, I think, unlike anything I have written before, mostly because it’s not from a reader’s POV. I like it, and I hope you do too. Please let me know what you think ♥

I don’t do taglists, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here.

Well, he thinks then, that’s not completely true. He was there when the call was made, overhearing Fury as he asked the person on the other end of the line for a favor. There was some gentle persuasion needed and he thinks he heard Nick say something about a promise made a long time ago, but by then the former S.H.I.E.L.D. director had already walked into an empty conference room nearby and only clipped whispers of the conversation made their way to where he was waiting for a decision to be made. 

The call ended soon after and the only thing he was told was that a car would come to pick him up the next morning at 5 AM and not to be late. He just nodded, which, he is sure, surprised not only him, but also Fury, because he was never really the type to agree to something that easily. He remembers being so, so tired, not just because of the events that got him here, but because of everything leading up to that and he thinks that must have had something to do with his compliance at the time. 

Nick took him to an apartment somewhere downtown for the night, telling him to leave the key in the mailbox the next morning and to stay inside, reminding him there were people who’d rather see him locked up somewhere. The apartment was more a studio, a single bed hidden behind a room divider in the far corner, a small kitchen to his left and a dining table with two chairs to his right. 

He wasn’t really hungry but could do with some sleep and so he laid down on the bed, a piece of paper on the wall next to him catching his eye, the handwriting on it rushed as though it was a warning and he was sure the first part of it was missing from the way the paper was torn. 

..when a good man goes to war

He read the sentence over and over again, until he felt his eyes getting heavy, and then he drifted off, a restless slumber that only left him feeling more exhausted by the time his alarm went off.

The car took him to JFK Airport where he boarded a commercial flight to Toronto, and he wondered why he couldn’t have just taken the Quinjet until he realized this was, of course, the safer option. No need to compromise the location of the safe house by showing up in a stealth aircraft just because it would be easier. His disguise that day was a Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap and a pair of glasses and even though there was a little boy eyeing him curiously all throughout the flight, he still doesn’t think the kid recognized him.  

A smaller plane waited for him at Pearson International Airport, flying him to Thunder Bay in just under two hours. By then it was past noon and the lack of sleep from the night before started to catch up with him as he wondered how much longer he would have to travel to reach his final destination. There was someone waiting for him at the gate, leading him straight down the stairs and onto the tarmac, where he had to grab his duffel bag from a baggage trolley before following the man to one of the hangars on the far end of the airfield. By then it was raining, the gentle breeze from earlier turning into stronger gusts of wind, and he could see the dark promise of a storm starting to form somewhere on the northern horizon. 

Somehow he knew the aircraft in the hangar was a Piper Turbo Arrow, with a range of almost seven hundred nautical miles, and so he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to calculate where that could possibly have him end up, but he was too tired to come up with a coherent answer. The man from earlier, who turned out to be the pilot, took his bag from him then and placed it in the hold, informing him that they had a ten-minute takeoff window or else they would have to wait for the storm to pass, and asked him if he was good to go. 

They were in the sky minutes later and with the storm front slightly more to his right, he figured they were flying northwest even though that still didn’t really tell him where they were headed. He must have dozed off at some point, because it felt like only minutes later when the pilot informed him he was preparing for landing even though they had been in the air for almost two hours. As soon as they left cruising altitude they hit a bout of turbulence, the small aircraft shaking violently and the pilot joking that the storm had finally caught up with them. But they made it to the ground safely, the heavy rain hammering down on them once they excited the plane. 

He thanked the pilot, grabbed his bag, made sure the phone, of which he had given the number to Tony and Tony only, was still in the pocket of his jacket, and walked over to the main building which, by the looks of it served as both the arrival and departure hall. It was empty except for what he assumed to be a janitor mopping the floors. He sat down on one of the chairs, wondering if there was another flight he would have to take and if it maybe was delayed because of the bad weather. Leaning back in his seat he stretched out his legs in front of him, closing his eyes just for a second.

There was some commotion then, as the double doors opened and a young woman stepped inside, the rain boots she was wearing making a squeaky sound on the tiled floor. She was wearing a long, yellow raincoat, and he thought she brightened up the place instantly. She pulled her hood off and apologized to the janitor for wetting the floor before she made her way over to where he was seated, rambling on about a tree on the road that made her late. She told him she was sorry, that she should have called, but that she didn’t have his number and so that she just tried to get here as soon as possible. He felt some of his weariness disappear from the way she seemed to radiate energy and so he got up instantly and took her outstretched hand, introducing himself as Steve Rogers.

She replied she already knew that, then laughed, almost like she was a little embarrassed, and told him her name with a smile, her hand warm in his. He grabbed his bag and followed her back outside, where an idling SUV, similar to the one Nick Fury used to drive, was waiting for them. He wondered if it was decked out the same way Fury’s was and if so, if she knew how to operate it. He threw his bag in the trunk and sat down on the passenger’s seat, a smile passing over his face when he saw the interior was nothing like Fury’s car, what with an air freshener popped into one of the vents and a tiny stuffed monkey hanging from the rear view mirror. 

She put the car into drive and smiled up at him, and somehow he remembers a drop of rain sliding down her face when she told him it would take just under an hour for them to get home. He nodded and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the warmth inside the car and the music she had playing over the radio. A couple of minutes into the drive he caught sight of himself in the window, surprised to see the beginnings of a beard already starting to form. And even though up until now he had always been clean shaven, he decided right then and there he would keep it until, well, things were at least slightly back to normal. 

Once they turned off the main road she let him know they were almost there, then, after a few minutes, pointing out the fallen tree that had made her late earlier. She muttered something about having to go back tomorrow to with a chainsaw to clear the road and he wondered just how isolated her place was. As it turned out, very. 

Her log cabin was located at the very end of the road, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the last house he saw was miles away, just on the outskirts of town, and they had passed it almost thirty minutes ago. It was the perfect location for a safe house and when he told her so she agreed, even though she did admit it could get a bit lonely in the winter, when the roads would be covered in snow and it could take the snowplow weeks to reach her cabin. She was quick to assure him she liked it that way though, and that she always made sure to stock up well before winter arrived. She promised to show him the greenhouse she used to grow her own vegetables later, but that now what they needed was a some coffee and something to eat. 

His stomach growled in response and so he got out of the car, admiring the two story building in front of him. It seemed fairly old, but structurally sound, and he wondered how long it had been hers. It was almost surrounded by tall green pine trees, but behind it he could see a shallow embankment that led to a lake. She motioned for him to follow her inside, out of the rain, the overhanging roof on the back porch already offering some relief. She opened the door and stepped inside, kicking off her rain boots before she lined them up on a shoe rack. Her raincoat followed suit, as she explained that the floor here had heating and so all their wet garments should be dry in no time. She didn’t wait for him, instead made her way to the coffee machine on the counter and switched it on before she walked into the living room, where she muttered something about adding some more wood to the fire. 

He took it all in from where he stood, the kitchen to his left, stairs leading up to the second story right in front of him and the living room behind that. He could hear her somewhere in there, the crackling of the fire getting louder as she fed it more wood. He followed her example and untied his shoes before he put them next to hers, his jacket on one of the hooks of the coat rack, the warmth of the floor heating very pleasant. 

She told him to sit down, make himself comfortable while she would make him something to eat and he watched her from the couch that was in the far corner of the room, next to the fireplace on one side and some double doors that led to the front porch on the other. The room’s decor simple yet cosy, with candles on every available surface and rows and rows of books in the bookcase across from him. She handed him a cup of coffee then and told him to be careful because it was hot. Another trip to the kitchen brought him a plate with two sandwiches, made with what seemed like homemade bread, and a slice of something sweet for her. 

The coffee warmed him up even more and the first bite of the sandwich made him realize just how hungry he was. She let him eat in silence, focused on her coffee and he appreciated the gesture more than he could ever explain.

And so, even though he’s still not quite sure how he ended up here, in this cabin somewhere in Canada, he sure is glad he did.

[starshinewriter]

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Della Duck & Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Scrooge McDuck & Webby Vanderquack, Bentina Beakley & Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack Characters: Donald Duck, Della Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Bentina Beakley, Huey Duck, Dewey Duck, Louie Duck, Webby Vanderquack Additional Tags: Family Fluff, Parent Donald Duck, Parent Della Duck Summary:

Each of the adults bonding with each of the kids.

Chapter One: Donald

Alternative to ao3:

                                                     Huey

Sometimes after he had had a particularly hard day Huey would go to his Uncle, Donald knew this- which is why he wasn't surprised when his oldest nephew suddenly showed up at his door. He did wish it wasn't happening so much lately though, it wasn't because he didn't like spending time with his boys or anything, quite the contrary actually, it was just cause he always hated when things were hard for them. But, that's what he was there for.

He let his nephew in with an understanding smile and led him to the couch. "Want anything to eat or drink?" There was more to that than just good hospitality, he knew Huey often forgot to take care of himself on days like these and he wasn't sure if his brothers had been around to remind him.  

"Yes, please." So that was a no then. He went to the kitchen to grab some stuff as he wanted for him to start talking.

"I think I wanna quit the Junior Woodchucks." And that made him stop, Huey loved the junior woodchucks, more than he loved anything else, what could possibly make him want to quit? "No one there likes me. All they do is make fun of me and call me a robot, they take all the fun out of it." That was still happening? What were those scoutmasters doing?

Donald sighed as he handed Huey what he had gotten him and sat down. He knew he didn't want to quit, not really, but he also knew how tough dealing with bullies could be. They really did take the fun out of everything. "Geez, kiddo, I'm sorry that's still happening. If that's what you really want... I'm sure you can find something else that entertains you just as much. And if you ever change your mind all you have to do is let me know." Huey looked at his Uncle, not having expected that answer. He fully thought he would try to convince him to stay and stick it out. Well, okay then; he was quitting. Though thinking that, was he sure that's what he really wanted?

No, it wasn't. "I changed my mind!" Donald smiled at him, proud of him for being able to come to that conclusion so quickly. He knew he would, all he needed was a little push. "I wanna stay, I love being a woodchuck! I just wish they would stop..."

"I know. You can't control other people, and that's unfortunate in times like this but it's the truth. But there are other ways. Della and I, we'll talk to the scoutmasters, again, this is going too far and something needs to be done to those kids so they can see that it's not okay. And if that doesn't get them to stop we'll figure something else out, but, Huey, you're not alone in this. We all have your back, no matter what happens." Huey smiled at his Uncle and hugged him.

"Thanks, Uncle Donald. I can't lie and say I feel completely better but it helps to know that."

"I'm glad." He pushed the plate towards him. "Now eat."

Huey took a drink of water, "Yes, Uncle Donald." Donald rubbed his head and started thinking of ways he and his sister could get through to those scoutmasters. He knew Launchpad was there, and would definitely do something about it but the others... they would harder to convince. But he would do it, his nephew was more than worth it.  

_______________________________________________________________

                                                      Dewey

Adventures weren't something Donald went on often, but it was something he was getting better at. He loved being with his family, and after eleven years they were finally whole again. He wasn't gonna miss out on that.

But with adventures came danger and he still wasn't sure if he wanted his kids around that, but he knew he could better protect them if he went with them. So, he had many reasons for going again. Especially when he had kids like Dewey, who ran into things headfirst without a second thought. He was getting better with it to be fair to him, but he still had his moments. Like right now.

Donald didn't blame him, it was the ADHD's fault not his, Dewey couldn't help it and he knew that well. That didn't mean he couldn't be upset about the situation.

After his nephew had run off into a potentially dangerous part of the cave they were currently in Donald had immediately gone after him. He had caught up to him before something bad could happen, thankfully, but it had ended up with them getting lost. And it wasn't like this was the first time Donald had gotten lost, it really wasn't, and it wasn't like he couldn't find his way back to the others, he could, it was just that Dewey had been doing so good lately so he couldn't understand why he backtracked. But they needed to talk about it.

"Dewey," He said to get his attention. "Let's talk."

"Alright. What about?"

Donald gave him a look, "I think you know. Why'd you run off like that? You've been on enough adventures by now to know how dangerous that is. I'm not mad, I just want to know why."

Dewey sighed, why had he done it? He wasn't sure he even knew... But, maybe he did. "I dunno, I guess I just thought it'd impress Mom, silly huh?"

"No, not at all." Donald comfortingly disagreed. Cause the thing was- that made a lot of sense, Dewey adored Della of course he wanted her to have a good impression of him. "But you don't have to, she's your Mom- she already loves you as much as she possibly could. You don't have to prove anything to her, or anyone else. And you certainly don't have to rush into dangerous situations to impress anyone." Donald kissed his forehead. "You're wonderful just the way you are. Now, let's get back to the others."

"How do we Dewey that?"

Donald smiled at him, "I'll show you. And if something like this happens again you'll know what to do."

"Okay, I trust you. You have to have gotten lost a bunch of times by now..."

"Hey!" He mockingly protested as Dewey laughed. Donald playfully shook his head then rubbed Dewey's and the two of them were off, jokingly bickering the whole way.

_______________________________________________________________

                                                        Louie

Cooking was one of Donald's favorite pastimes, and it was also one of Louie's- which led to it being the time they spent the most time together. Louie also tended to open up to him more during that time, something about cooking putting him at a rare ease. Donald wasn't complaining. But this didn't seem to be like one of those times, it was like he was perfectly content, but in a different way. Donald was happy for him, he had grown a lot lately and he seemed much better for it. Not to say he wasn't good enough before, Donald would always think his boys were good enough just for existing, but he was always so... unsure of himself. Like he wasn't certain what his place was, and now he was.

"Careful with the splatter of that, Lou, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Donald warned.

"I know, Uncle Donald." He replied, but moved back anyway. "What do you think? Does it look good?"

Donald looked down at the pan, "Looks great. Now we can add the carrots." Louie made a face and Donald laughed. "It'll be good, I promise."

"Carrots are almost as bad as hotdogs!"

"Not the way I make them." Donald said in a sing-songy voice; Louie looked intrigued and he started explaining. He was able to get through the whole explanation without something bad happening, which was unusual but he had learned that his bad luck usually took a back seat while he was cooking. Thankfully, who knew what kind of trouble could happen if it didn't?

"Do you think I could try?"

Donald gestured to the pan, "Go ahead!" Louie started to do so as he watched over him, to make sure he did it right and didn't get hurt. Louie smiled to himself when he noticed that, there was a reason why Donald was his favorite adult and why he loved spending time like this with him. There was also one why he tended to treat him better than he did the other adults, the titles he would call them depended on his mood with them, but Uncle Donald was always Uncle Donald.  

"Thanks for this, Uncle Donald, it's been fun."

He smiled at his nephew, "Anytime, kiddo, it's been fun for me too."

_______________________________________________________________

                                                        Webby

After a hard day's work there was nothing Donald liked more than to relax. And what better way to do that than by watching TV? That was why he was currently camped out in the den- until the inevitable interruption that forced him to get up happened. But for now he was content.

Then he heard a gasp from behind him. "Are you watching Tales of the Barge? Can I watch too?!" Webby, that was definitely Webby. No one else could sound so excited by the idea of watching a boat documentary. Even he, lover of boats and all things water-craft, was only watching it cause nothing else was on. But if she wanted to join him he wouldn't stop her.

"If you want." He felt movement next to him a few seconds later. Oh well, to each their own.

It was silent for a few minutes as the two of them watched the documentary and Donald began drifting off. He didn't mean to, but he was really tired. The couch moved next to him again and he forced his eyes open, he was hanging out with his honorary niece, he couldn't fall asleep. He looked at her and saw she was completely engrossed in the show and smiled to himself, she sure was something else. And he loved her so much for it.

"How was your day?" He asked her at the next commercial break.

She shrugged, "Pretty good. I had a few lessons with Granny, the boys and I played some games- I won most of them, but Dewey thinks he did. Lena, Vi, and I are hanging out tomorrow so that'll be fun! I already have so many ideas for what we can do- oo! Maybe the boys will come along too, it's always funner when it's all of us! Although I hope there's not a repeat of last time... So, how was your day, Uncle Donald?"

"Long." He replied and she laughed. "At least the hard part's over now. So you're really interested in this movie huh?"

She nodded enthusiastically, "You know how much I like learning stuff! I can never know too much!"

He did. "Well, if you wanna learn more about boats I'd be happy to teach you." She gasped,

"Really?" He nodded. "I would love that, thank you, Uncle Donald!" She lunged and hugged him, thankfully he was more than used to being tackled by excited kids and wasn't thrown back at all. He was a bit surprised at how excited she was though, none of the boys were even remotely interested in that kind of stuff. But now he did have someone who was, so really this was a win for both of them. And there also was the bonus that he got to spend more time with her, they really didn't get to hang out much. Well, that was changing now. And he was more than looking forward to it.  

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 3 of don’t read the last page is here!

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

4

“Seriously, though,” Sven asked around a mouthful of rice, “what happened?”

“I, um, ran into someone.”

“Like a girl someone?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“And?”

There was no use hiding it. Sven would drag it out of him someday, and anyway, despite being kind of the worst sometimes, he was also the best friend Kristoff had had since– well, since Anna– and sometimes, he even managed to give pretty decent advice.

“Well, uh, it was Anna.”

chapter 3: no onions

“It smells like fried rice in here. Kris, I swear to god you better not have ordered Chinese food without me again because–”

Kristoff didn’t bother to look up from his hands even when Sven abruptly stopped talking. He’d been sitting on the sofa, unmoving, face buried in his palms ever since Anna had left trying to figure out what the hell he’d done wrong.

“There’s still some left if you want it,” he mumbled.

A low whistle came from across the room. “I mean, gonna be real with you, I do, but shit, man, what happened? Is it something with work?”

“No.”

“School?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Dick dry up and fall off?”

“Remind me again why I still live with you.”

“Because no one else will put up with the weird shit you sing in the shower.”

“Ah, right, that was it,” he muttered as Sven sat down beside him and they both sank a little deeper into the bowels of the world’s least valuable sofa.

“Seriously, though,” Sven asked around a mouthful of rice, “what happened?”

“I, um, ran into someone.”

“Like a girl someone?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“And?”

There was no use hiding it. Sven would drag it out of him someday, and anyway, despite being kind of the worst sometimes, he was also the best friend Kristoff had had since– well, since Anna– and sometimes, he even managed to give pretty decent advice.

“Well, uh, it was Anna.”

“No fucking way. The Anna you like, drove all the way home to see that one weekend freshman year and then you got there and saw her with her boyfriend and you were like ‘oh, sh–”

“Yes, that Anna.”

His voice came out sounding tighter than he meant it to, and suddenly the teasing note in Sven’s voice was gone. “Shit. What happened?”

He explained his whole insane day from the beginning, and for once Sven was quiet through the whole thing, except when he called a quick time-out to look up the tampon commercial and confirm that Kristoff really wasn’t kidding about that. He’d thought that maybe getting the whole story out would make him feel better, but it somehow made it all worse to see Sven looking as confused as he did. Kristoff groaned and headed into the kitchen for a beer; he really needed one right now.

Sven followed behind him, still trying to puzzle his way through the story. “So like, to be clear, she was definitely the one who initiated the kissing?”

“Um. Considering she told me I could kiss her back, yeah.”

“Wait, you didn’t immediately just–”

“I don’t know! She’s so…so…” He threw his hands up in frustration. “God. She’s just Anna, and she’s always been Anna, and I’ve always been me, and it’s like…why the hell would someone like her even look at me twice? I mean, it was like she walked into the store, and I just immediately was right back to where I was freshman year, just like…”

He couldn’t come up with the words and took a swig of beer instead. Sven patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sorry, man. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. Had to’ve been something else going on. Or maybe she thought you weren’t into her.”

“Thanks, but it probably is just…” He waved a hand, feeling futile. “Probably just that she really was just curious and that was all.”

“I’m gonna be honest, from what you’ve told me about her, I don’t think that’s it. Didn’t you say she used to skip school when you were sick and bring over soup and DVDs?”

“I mean, yeah, but…I don’t know. She didn’t like school that much.”

“I don’t think someone who does that shit would do this shit. Not without a reason, anyway.”

“A lot can change after high school.”

“You’re telling me,” Sven mumbled, opening a beer of his own. “You seen my hairline lately?”

In spite of himself, Kristoff let out a snort of laughter. So maybe tonight hadn’t gone where he’d been hoping, but hey– he’d lived the last seven years without Anna. He’d get used to it again.

—-

He’d spent so much time over the last week hoping she’d come back in that when she actually did, he blinked several times before realizing she wasn’t going to fade away. She was looking at him as she walked up to the counter, but the moment their eyes met her gaze flew away so she could stare a little bit too hard at the menu.

Two could play at that game; he started wiping down the counters even though he’d just done that five minutes ago and no one had come in since. He watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering why, exactly, she’d come all the way back over here when she’d said she lived nearly on the other side of the city.

“A mocha, please, with cinnamon syrup,” she ordered, sounding almost timid. 

“Do you want whip?”

“Yes, please. To go.”

She handed the cashier a twenty and stuffed a five in the tip jar when she got her change, and then ever so slowly she drifted down to his end of the counter. He kept his eyes on the coffee as he started to make her drink, but he still said quietly, “I’m serious, you really don’t have to order a drink to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

This time he did look up at her. Her eyes were downcast as she leaned against the counter, drumming her fingers against it. “For what?” he asked, starting to steam the milk.

“For, um…the other night.”

“It’s okay, seriously, if you’re not interested it’s–”

“It’s not that, Kristoff,” she said, and finally she looked up at him, and his heart broke a little when he realized she looked somehow afraid.

“Tell me, Anna.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I just. Um. I don’t know if you really want to hear the whole thing. Kind of a ‘do you want the long version or the longer version’ thing. But, um…sorry, again. And thank you. I got a callback.”

Kristoff nearly dropped her cup. “I– hang on, let me finish this and then– just hang on.”

He finished making her coffee and set it on the counter before picking up the whipped cream canister. “Tell me when.”

Her mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a smile, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved; that had been one of their dozens of stupid inside jokes back in the day, that when one of them had a bad day and needed to just pile up in front of a movie with snacks, he’d always go for Pringles, and she’d want a massive ice cream sundae with so much whipped cream you couldn’t even see the ice cream part.

She waited until there were a solid two inches of whipped cream before saying, “When,” and he slid the cup over to her with a little smile of his own.

“Okay. You were saying? About the part, I mean.”

“I, um…the audition went really well. And so I got a callback, and that went well too, and so I wanted to come and thank you because I seriously couldn’t have done it without you. I mean, actually, I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know if your number had changed or not, and I don’t think you ever got on Facebook or Twitter or anything so I couldn’t get a hold of you there and–”

The bell over the door jangled, and he glanced up to see a group of women coming in wearing yoga pants and chatting animatedly about the new tea flavors. “Anna– sorry, I just–”

“Oh, no, no, I’m the one who’s sorry, I’ll just get out of your way, just–”

“No, not that, just– I have to do this but I get off in half an hour so just–”

Her eyes looked suddenly hopeful, and there was that old familiar pang in his chest. “Just– wait here, okay? And you can tell me the long version of everything.”

Already paper cups were sliding his way, but he kept his eyes locked on hers until she nodded and sat down at a nearby table. The rest of his shift flew by in a rush of skinny lattes and double-caramel frapps, but through it all he kept glancing up at Anna. Most of the time she was tapping on her phone or fidgeting with her hair or picking at her nails, but whenever their eyes met, he would give her another tiny smile and get one in return.

And then, finally, he was done and slid into the chair across from her. “Do you wanna do this here? Or we can go to my apartment again if you want, my roommate won’t be home for a while. Or we can go to yours if you’d rather.”

Anna’s finger tapping sped up. “Um, my sister’s probably home by now, and she’d probably listen in, so–”

“My place it is, then,” he said, and his stomach growled loudly. He winced. “Um, we can do takeout again if you want, or you don’t have to stay long enough to eat, but I’m kind of starving so–”

“We can do pizza,” she said quickly. “My treat.”

“You don’t have to, seriously–”

“I want to.”

Her fingers were still drumming insistently on the table. Without really thinking, Kristoff reached over and cupped her hands between his own, stilling them. He heard her suck in a breath.

“Anna,” he said, looking steadily at her. “I promise, whatever it is you have to say to me, it’s going to be okay.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“I mean it.”

“You can change your mind,” she said softly. “If you decide it isn’t okay. I know I fucked up.”

“Just– let’s actually talk first before you start worrying about what I’ll think, okay? One thing at a time.”

For some reason, her eyes started to fill with tears, and he hastily got to his feet, which only seemed to make it worse. “I– okay, I don’t know what I said, but– c’mon, I’m parked out back.” 

He took her hand again, more on instinct than anything, and led her through a side door out to his beat-up old sedan. He opened the door for her, and she managed a sniffly “thank you” as she buckled up. 

“You can put on the radio if you want,” he said as he pulled out. “Or the aux cord is somewhere in here, remember how we used to argue over who got control of it? Because you’d always want to play show tunes, and I’d want to play Green Day or something?”

He glanced over to see Anna swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And then we found out that they’d made that musical based on their songs, and all we listened to was that cast recording for like a month before we finally admitted that neither of us actually liked it that much.”

“Yeah. But we pretended all that time anyway because we didn’t want to let the other person down.”

She was quiet for a long time after that, until just after he turned onto his street. “Why didn’t we do a better job of keeping in touch with each other, Kris?”

It was his turn to be silent. He knew the answer, but that didn’t make it any easier to say. He parked the car, turned it off, unfastened his seatbelt; still, neither of them made a move to get out of the car. He turned to meet her gaze. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes were still puffy. Her hair was thrown up in a loose bun; she was in an oversized t-shirt and leggings, and still she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“I don’t know,” he lied, finally opening his door. “I guess it just happens sometimes.”

She followed him silently into the building, tapping on her phone as they got into the elevator. “You still like veggie, right?”

“What?” he asked; all of his focus had been on the way her eyes still looked red and whether she’d let him give her a cold washcloth or something because Jesus, that was killing him.

“Pizza.”

“Oh– yeah. But no–”

“Onions, I remember. Me too.”

They were quiet again until the door to his apartment shut behind them. Kristoff cleared his throat. “Um– unfortunately nothing’s changed in the last week, so the floor’s kind of still our best option.”

“That’s fine. I feel floors are usually the best for, um, this sort of thing. Kind of…cathartic to just…be there.”

He nodded and awkwardly sat down in front of the sofa again, letting his long legs sprawl under the table; she slid down next to him, keeping a healthy distance between them as she tucked her knees up to her chest. “So– anyway, like I kind of said earlier, um…I’m just…really sorry.”

She was tugging at the ends of her hair, twisting it in her hands as she spoke. “Because it was, like, really fucked up of me to say that to you. That kissing you was just…getting something out of the way. That was…just really, really shitty. And not why I did it.”

He hadn’t really known what to expect, but this hadn’t been it. “Um. So why did…um…”

“I really did want to kiss you, not just….because I was curious. Or because I’ve always wanted to. Which I have,” she added, and he glanced over to see her cheeks had turned a little pink. “But, um…I guess I just…I do this thing where I, like, think something is going to be inevitable, and so then I’m like ‘well let’s just get the waiting over with and do it’, and then I just jump in headfirst and it never actually, like, goes well.”

“What do you mean, inevitable?” “Like, well…like I just, you know, walked into this coffee shop and suddenly the boy I was in love with for like four years is there making my coffee, which is crazy because neither of us is from L.A., and then I didn’t even recognize you at first because…well, okay, I’m already being honest so I’ll just say that like…college was definitely kind to you, and so then I was like ‘holy shit, this is like a movie or something and it’s meant to be’ and then you called me pretty and then we were just talking and it felt like– like…really good. But then I kissed you and you were so nervous and then like, a really good kisser and then it just hit me that you’re– you’re Kristoff, and I’m, like, this huge fucking mess, and whenever I just jump into shit I always fuck it up or it fucks me up, and I’d already lost you once and now I’d just found you and how shitty would it be if I just, like, ruined it or like, hurt your feelings or something, and then I was like ‘okay well just play this off Anna’ and then– then I just lied and acted like it didn’t matter which is like, the opposite of the truth, because it did matter, and you matter, and I just hurt you anyway which is what I didn’t want to do, and I’m really really sorry that I’m such a fuckup and that I’m crying on your living room floor again and I’ll go home now if you want.”

He’d held back as she spoke, knowing that she needed to just get it all out, but he couldn’t stand it any longer; he reached over and pulled her into a hug, holding her tight as she cried into the front of his t-shirt. “And now I’m getting your shirt all soggy,” she said, muffled against his chest, and he let out a weak chuckle.

“Anna, it’s okay. I’m– I’m not mad.”

“But you could be, if you wanted to. I’m really sorry that I hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t, seriously, it’s–”

She sat up and looked him dead in the eye, though he still didn’t drop his arms from her shoulders. “Don’t do that, Kris.”

“Do what?”

“Just– bottle your shit up. You always used to do that, and it would drive me crazy. You’re allowed to have feelings.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She wasn’t the only person who had ever told him that, but she’d been the first. He’d never really listened, and that had ended at least one of his relationships, but– maybe it was time.

He took a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. I, um, I was really sad after you left.”

“You were sad while I was still there. I could tell.”

“…yeah.”

She studied him for a long moment, a few stray tears still rolling down her cheeks. “I’m seriously so, so sorry, Kristoff.”

“I’ll forgive you. On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Let’s…start over. Like…like, pretend you just came into my coffee shop. What would you

actually want to say?”

She pondered it for a moment, then a familiar sparkle came back into her eyes; he felt a little twinge in his heart at the sight. “I’d say, ‘Damn, Bjorgman, where have you been all my life?’ And then you’d say something, like, super you–”

“Like, ‘behind this counter, waiting for you to hurry up and take your coffee’.”

Anna let out a little laugh, and his heart soared. “And then I’d tell you that I’d really missed you, and that I wanted to take you out so we could catch up, and that if it was a date that would be really nice.”

“And I’d say ‘more than nice, Anna, it would be amazing’.”

“Really?”

He nodded, leaning his forehead against hers. “I kinda…I think I felt the inevitable thing, too.”

Her hand drifted up to his cheek. “We could be wrong, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“We could just both be like, really horny. I know for me it’s been like, way too long, but you’re kind of super hot now, so–”

“No, it’s been like…since my last girlfriend. Which ended last fall, so–”

“Oh, shit, that’s probably it–”

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think it is.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe we still shouldn’t kiss just yet. Just to be sure.”

“Okay.”

“And like, maybe it feels inevitable because we’re still thinking of each other as our high school selves. So maybe we should just…re-get to know each other.”

“Okay.”

“So like, definitely no kissing. Or touching. So we can rule the horniness out.”

“Like touching only in a sexy way, or is this–”

“No, no, this is good. Hugs are good. We can cuddle, like, all day long. Like–”

She turned a little, swinging her legs over his lap and nestling her head against his shoulder. “Like this feels really nice. Is this okay?”

“Almost.”

He tugged her a little closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on the top of her head. “Okay. Now we’re good.”

They were quiet for a long moment; Anna nestled closer to him, letting her hand drift absentmindedly across his chest, drawing tiny shapes. “Also,” he said, feeling his cheeks start to burn, “I forgot to mention this, but you’re super hot now, too. I kinda always thought you were, though.”

“Even though I’m like, the girl in the tampon commercial?”

“Especially then. The little string just really does it for me.”

She giggled and buried her face in his neck, her arms wrapping around him. “You’re the woooorst, Kris, I–”

The doorbell rang, and they groaned in unison. “I’ve never been so pissed off about pizza,” Anna mumbled, scrambling to her feet and towards the door.

From the floor, Kristoff tried not to laugh as he heard the pizza guy say, “Oh my god, you’re–”

“I swear to god I will tip you double if you shut up right now and never, ever tell anyone about this. Or use the cartwheel GIF.”

“The one where your–”

“You know the one I mean.”

There was only silence and the shuffling of bills after that until the door slammed shut and she sailed back over to him. “Don’t say a word, Bjorgman.”

He mimed zipping his lips as she opened the box, then said quickly– “Oh– let me get plates– and you want something to drink? It’s, uh, I think it’s pretty much water or beer or soymilk, but you can have any of that.”

“Beer is good.”

“Yeah? Okay, great."

Once they were settled, they ate in companionable silence, occasionally meeting each other’s eyes over their plates and looking away quickly with reddened cheeks. Anna let out a sudden burp, and Kristoff snorted with laughter. “How are you still pretty when you do that?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, leaning over to gently push his chest, and then she didn’t pull away and their eyes locked and maybe they both definitely had garlic breath and had said no kissing but they were leaning towards each other anyway and then there was a rattle of keys in the door and they flew apart.

“Goddammit Kristoff, now it smells like pizza and I told you to stop ordering in without me and– holy shit that’s a girl.”

Anna waved at him. “Sorry. But there’s still a piece left if you want it. Saves us from arguing over it.”

Sven’s eyes darted between the two of them, trying to make sense of it all. At last, he seemed to give up and plopped onto the floor between them, snagging the piece and taking a big bite. “So did you guys, like, figure your shit out?”

“Um…” Anna said, looking over at Kristoff. 

He shrugged. “I’d say so.”

“Sweet, because I went to Gamestop on the way home and got a copy of Wii Mario Kart, and you know I still have that Wii in the top of my closet so if you could make yourself useful for once, Bjorgman, and grab that for us, we could definitely do some split-screen.”

Anna ended up staying three hours more, even managing to hold her own against Sven until he insisted on playing Rainbow Road three times in a row “because that’s where true warriors are found”. After fifteen minutes of spending more time off the track than on it while Kristoff, who had surrendered five races ago, laughed, she dropped the controller and held up her hands. “I surrender! Okay, you’re the undisputed champion.”

Sven nodded his head, looking astonishingly dignified for someone with a piece of popcorn clinging to his hair– a remnant of an earlier battle over who got to be Peach. 

(Anna had won that one, at least.)

She glanced at her phone and winced. “Oh, shit, it’s almost ten. I told Elsa I’d probably call her to pick me up at like, six. She’s got work in the morning, I–”

“Don’t even have to ask,” Kristoff said, getting to his feet. “C’mon.”

“It’s like, half an hour from here, are you sure? I’ll give you gas money if–”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

Sven flopped onto the sofa, letting his lanky legs dangle over the end, and waved as they headed out. “Don’t have too much fun without me. Come back next week, and we’ll do Super Smash Bros, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

There were a million questions he wanted to ask Anna on the drive to her apartment; how she’d ended up in L.A., what her sister had been up to, whether she still held such strong opinions over the best place to get a Sprite (always McDonald’s, though Kristoff would pretend he liked bottled better just to see her fume)– but as soon as she’d plugged her address into his phone, she started drifting off.

The roads were mostly clear on the way to her apartment, so after a few minutes Kristoff hesitantly set his right hand on her knee, still hardly daring to believe that this was real, that she was really right there beside him. She yawned and pressed her own hand over it; at the next stoplight, he glanced over and saw that she’d dozed off, a little smile on her face.

She blinked blearily awake as he pulled up to her building. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said softly, squeezing her hand.

Anna leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. “Thanks for the ride. And the forgiveness.”

“Anytime. Tell Elsa I said hey, yeah?”

“Will do. Oh– I didn’t actually get your number, did I?”

He handed over his phone, and she quickly typed hers in. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again, and then she was gone, nearly skipping up the sidewalk. He waited until she was indoors and a light had come on up on the sixth floor before pulling away, a ridiculous smile on his face.

—

He didn’t have work the next day and always slept in, so when his phone started buzzing on his bedside table anyway, he ignored it for a moment before realizing it was a call, not an alarm. He reached blindly for it and tapped the green button.

“Whozit?”

“Kristoff?”

“Anna? What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah– it’s– it’s great, actually.”

It didn’t sound like it was great. It sounded like she was out of breath and had either been laughing or crying. “Um– are you sure?”

“I, um, I got the part.”

He sat straight up, suddenly wide awake. “Holy shit, that’s awesome.”

“I know. And they want me to go ahead and– and fly out in a few days.”

“Fly out? What do you mean?”

“It’s, um, they’re doing rehearsals and shooting and everything on location and stuff. Well, not all of it, just– a lot of it.”

“On location…where?”

“Um…Romania. For six weeks.”