#banana bread has taken over my brain

[clio-just-clio]

banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread banana bread

[huntershowl-moving]

——— BASICS ! ♡

NICKNAME : raine

PRONOUNS : she/her

ZODIAC SIGN : gemini

TAKEN OR SINGLE : taken!

——— THREE FACTS ! ♡

went to college for game design, with a focus on writing/narrative and 2D art!

i love cooking and baking — currently work as a chef and i arrange a mean charcuterie board :) fav recipe of mine is probably either banana bread or white chocolate lemon scones.

very into tabletop games, but cursed to hate playing over call. in person, i am known to make detailed irl props, animatics, cover songs and shit like that because immersion is my favorite thing to foster in any sort of roleplaying experience!

——— EXPERIENCE ! ♡

too much. too much. tumblr since 2012, but online rp in general forrrrr. 15?? yrs? since i was in third grade and rped with my bff via emails. kjdshfjkshf ive been through the shit. ask me about horror stories and i'll have a fuckin Tale for you (FROM THE LAST FEW MONTHS EVEN. but also earlier. ive seen things. to the extent that i've been actually considering writing an unofficial dissertation on rp from a queer anthropology lens )

——— MUSE PREFERENCE ! ♡

for muses i prefer to write? ALWAYS sad characters. always. if a bitch isnt a little bit sad i lose interest fast. dsjfhkjshdf more specifically, angry femmes, hard-edged bitchy men with hearts of gold. usually has endured some sort of abuse. a bit unlikable, has a long way to go before they're comfortable with vulnerability. occasionally i have an off-type muse pick though (a couple of love-embodiment rays of sunshine, or get.o jj.k for example, but they're still ALWAYS SAD)

for muses i write against? for seph, i prefer characters with some sort of mean streak/bitchiness/hard edge to them. she doesn't do super well with outwardly soft and gentle characters — her muse avoids them and i tend to lose insp fast, even if i love the character ooc.

in a general sense, i'm drawn to characters who are also angsty in some way, but more than that, i'm drawn to conflict. if a dynamic isn't rough in some way, if there's no conflict between them, then it's less my vibe personally! no shade to those who like harmonious/fluffy character relationships of course — i just. yk. my brain likes to cause problems.

——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT ! ♡

FLUFF : small doses, short threads! i like fluff a lot, but only occasionally

ANGST : honestly like 90% of my content. eve my fluff threads turn sad. i love putting characters through the meat grinder — not only seph either, just say the word and i will HAPPILY inflict my villains on your blorbo! ask any of my writing partners and they will be able to confirm how much angst is on this fuckin blog JKSDKJDSH

SMUT : on discord yes! on dash, i'll ride the line and get a little spicy, but nothing like super explicit. ALTHOUGH this is a wiggly rule — i might try to explore it with trusted partners at some point if i get less shy

PLOT / MEMES : BOTH. plotting is very very helpful for me because i'm a chatterbox and tend to enjoy dynamics where we can also yell about em ooc. also having spicy plot points and conflicts to work towards makes it easier for me to write multiple threads haha <3 but memes are amazing ways to start interacting, as long as i have some sort of direction going in. so both!

tagged by: stoled from @tewwor

tagging: YOU!

[maijobi]

“see you”

okkotsu yuuta x reader

summary: when yuuta’s disappearance has much more of an effect on you than you every thought…

a/n: I had a totally different idea for this,, but it didn’t work out so I came with this. not proofread and I’ll probably change certain things when im not high on sleep deprivation.

—————————————————————-

everyday was a joyful day. well at least, you tried to make it joyful. you didn’t see the purpose in wanting to make your day worse by thinking too much so everything was always so sudden, energetic and for some people maybe a little annoying. but those were things you never cared about. people’s opinion didn’t matter to you. you lived your life for yourself and not for anyone else, so why not try to make the best out of it?

you weren’t easily budged so having missed the bus and running to school in the rain instead didn’t even concern you in the slightest. you had a toast in your mouth and took whatever drink you had in the fridge and ran out the door with your umbrella in one hand and your drink in the other. you were basically jumping in every puddle you saw, not caring if your socks got wet. a big smile was on your face because who didn’t enjoy jumping in puddles with bread in your mouth. you looked at the drink you had taken out of the fridge and got happy that it was strawberry milk, your favourite. 

with the speed you were running you knew you’d make it just in time for classes, but before you could reach the school building you saw a young man sitting on a bench. head down, hands intertwined and looking miserable. 

well grumpiness in the morning wasn’t for you, so even if you could put a small smile on his face you’d be more than happy. so before you knew it you were standing in front of the guy, holding the umbrella above the two of you. his gaze slowly turned in your direction, his eyes were red and swollen so that indicated that he was probably crying. you gave him a big smile, showing a full set of teeth. you weren’t ashamed the slightest. you handed him the umbrella and placed the strawberry milk on his lap. 

before he could say anything you took your bag and placed it over your head and started running In the direction of school. you heard him calling after you and when you turned around you could swear you could see a faint smile on his face. so in return you waved at him. “see you”, you found yourself saying while running through the school grounds. 

the day after you saw him sitting there again after having missed your bus again, he handed your umbrella and mumbled a thank you and you’d only smile at him and leave with a sprint because you’d miss school otherwise. 

the day after that you saw him again, sitting yet again in the rain with a miserable look. so you gave him your umbrella and, for this time, banana milk and started running with your bag over your head to school. he’d try to call for you again and you’d only turn your head while running and would scream “see you” again. 

and before you knew it you’d purposely miss every bus and run to school, just so you could see him on that bench every morning. so you could give him your umbrella in the rain and he’d give it back on sunny days and would mutter a shy “thank you” while you’d scream “see you” after every meeting. 

you started to leave the house earlier so you could see him and maybe even talk with him and when you’d see him sitting on that bench you made your way to sit next to him. he didn’t notice it was you yet so you spoke up. “huh, that much for giving you my umbrella every two days”, you said with a pout.

his face shot in your direction and you could see the flush red ears and slightly tinted cheeks as he looked at you. 

“you know, buying you an umbrella would solve many of your problems, but I seem to find it more fun to give you mine and get it back afterwards while you thank me”, you said. “I don’t think i’ve properly introduced myself.” you rose from your seat and stood in front of him while stretching out your arm. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

he smiled at you and shook your hand. “okkotsu, okkotsu yuuta.”

“did you know you have very beautiful eyes yuuta”, you said as you pulled him closer.

he’d blush again and you’d laugh. “i’m looking forward to meet up with you more often.”

and you’d see him every day. every morning ten minutes before classes would start, because even If it were only ten minutes with him they made you feel the happiest. not even jumping in a puddle could relate to the feeling you had when you were with him. 

you would wake up in the morning trying to look better for him. wear your pretty socks or try to make your hair look slightly better than usual and every so often you’d wear a mask to let your skin glow. you found yourself doing things you’d never thought you’d do for someone. suddenly you cared a lot.

you’d figure out all kinds of things about him. his family, his past, his friends (which he didn’t have much). you learned his reason behind his gloomy days and you figured out the reason why he never went to school. “heeh, you pervert. bet you’re just looking at all the passing high school girls.”

he’d worriedly and anxiously try to tell you that was not the case because he was also a high school student, even though you were well aware he’d never actually look at every girl going to school. his reasoning was that he had special tutoring, something you’d never heard before. probably some extra math classes or something. well it wasn’t as if it would have much effect on you. 

it was raining again and you were ready to see yuuta again, but when you were running happily to the bench and sprung in every puddle in the meanwhile you saw he wasn’t there. and he wasn’t there again for several weeks that turned into months.

mornings weren’t special anymore and as much as you hated that this had an effect on you you couldn’t help the growing ache in your chest. you’d jump in puddles on rainy days, but they didn’t give you as much joy as they used to. you tried to run with your bag on your head to work up some adrenaline, but nothing really worked. nothing gave you the joy you wanted. 

many months passed and you found yourself being the person you hated. being the person you did not want to become. being the person that thought too much and let negative thoughts overpower your brain.

it was raining again and you found yourself missing the bus on accident this time. so you walked, not ran, but walked to school that day with no umbrella, no flavoured milk and no bag over your head to protect you from the rain. just you walking in the rain getting completely drench. you saw the bench and made your way to it. you thought of yuuta and sat down at the exact spot he’d sit down. 

you hated every moment. you didn’t wanna sit there and remember. you wanted to move on and be happy. who was yuuta anyways? some dude that forgot his umbrella every day? and yet you couldn’t move an inch. the rain had stoped, but the sounds were still there and suddenly a small bottle of strawberry milk was placed on my lap. you shot your head up and your eyes widened. and umbrella over your head.

“it’s unlike you to see you so gloomy in the morning”, he’d say with his oh so familiar smile. he changed. his hair changed and he grew taller. his face matured and he look a lot more calm rather than anxious like he used to be.

you didn’t realize it until he brushed his hand under your eyes that you were crying. “why did you leave so suddenly?”, you asked. 

“I can’t tell you the whole story yet, but I promise you that I will one day”, he said as he placed a hand on your cheek. “i’m sorry for leaving you so suddenly.”

you took his hand and lowered it from your face. “you can’t just disappear for months and come back only with a sorry expecting me to forgive you. i’ve been through hell. don’t ask me why you leaving had such an effect on me, but it did. I found myself worrying about what you’d think of me, even though something like that never happened to me before. I was happy to see you every morning and I hate how much of a bitter aftertaste you left behind when you didn’t show up for the past months. I hated you. I hated you so much, that I couldn’t even stop thinking about you. and I couldn’t stop myself from caring about you”, you said through tears.

“then let me make it up to you”, he whispered.

you knew what was coming and you let it happen. because you craved his touch and you craved to feel his lips on yours. so when they touched it felt ever so lightly that you found yourself intoxicated by it. you wanted more and pulled him closer as if he’d leave again. you didn’t give him a second to break it while letting your lips dance together. your heart was hammering in your chest and your brain was a mess.

you weren’t going to let him off the hook so easily. a kiss couldn’t stop you from being angry. but the kiss told you that he was ready to stay and was a form of saying that he wasn’t going anywhere. so your repeated see you’s were not a waste of hope. 

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can’t Say Anything to Your Face

Summary: Lunchtime is Spencer Reid’s favorite time of day and not because of the crappy endless coffee, dry sandwiches, or the occasional chocolate donut. Spencer’s favorite time of day comes in the shape of a little post it notes and fits perfectly into his heart.

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Content: Fluff (1 use of a$$)

Author’s Note: The idea of for this came from @shemarmooresfedora for giving Spencer compliment cards

Word Count: 2.6 K

I Can't Say Anything To Your Face

When Spencer checks his watch for the twelfth time that day, he can practically feel Derek’s eyes roll. He tries to cover up his action by picking at his sleeve, but that just seems to draw attention to the situation. Derek raises his eyebrows at Spencer, as if to tell him, I saw that.

When it comes to teasing Spencer, Derek doesn’t miss a beat.

The team, minus Derek and Spencer, continue to work diligently. JJ walks back and forth from her office to Hotch’s, constantly shuffling through piles and piles of paperwork. Emily seems to keep herself busy with the 33 tabs that she has open on her screen. Y/N, who’s tongue slips out of her teeth in concentration, doesn’t look up from her mound of case files. Spencer likes studying how each of the members of his team works, but he particularly likes to watch Y/N. She always sticks her tongue out when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she’ll close her eyes and rub the butt of her palm against them. Other times she’ll push her glasses up on top of her head and her hair frames her face perfectly. Spencer couldn’t care less what she looked like or how she wore her hair, but watching her was his favorite part of the day.

In a totally platonic, non-creepy way.

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

“I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

“Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

Taglist (Comment & I'll Happily Add You)

@shemarmooresfedora

@april-14-blog

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

@spideygenius

@measure-in-pain

@nomajdetective

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 56)

Description: The Catalysts attempt to return to their lives as River Skye finally comes home.  tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Chapter 56: Not Over

Alodia

I almost can’t believe how quickly I start to feel better once the fever breaks. The pain, which had felt like some hellish demon with teeth made of red-hot iron gnawing at my lower back, begins to recede within hours. 

“That’s how it tends to go with an infection like this once we find the right antibiotic,” the doctor tells me. “You are fortunate, though. These days, a lot of bacteria have developed resistance to antibiotics. But the infection is responding well to treatment, and all your vitals and your blood work look good. And your daughter appears as healthy as a baby horse. ...I would just like to take a quick look at how you’re healing from the birth if that’s okay.” 

I nod, turning onto my back with Jake’s help as the doctor draws the curtain around the bed. Improved as I am, I know I’m not at full strength yet, because moving still hurts. I guess I must have winced, because the doctor raises an eyebrow in concern as she pulls on a pair of gloves.

“You okay there?” 

“I think so. Guess I’m still pretty sore.” 

“That’s to be expected. You probably won’t feel one-hundred percent for another week or two at least.” 

I draw my knees up and part my thighs while the doctor pulls up a stool at the foot of the bed and lifts the blanket. I keep my attention focused on Jake’s face above me and the pressure of his hand on mine as the doctor carries out her checks. Occasionally, I let my eyes wander around to the multiple bouquets and mylar balloons that have built up over the past couple days, gifts from the Catalysts, Tahira’s team, my aunt and uncle, and Jake and Diego’s parents. 

“Everything is healing beautifully. Stitches should be dissolved by next week. You’re probably going to be feeling pretty tender for a while though.” 

“Yeah, we had the whole tearing conversation with my OB in California some time ago.” 

“Good. If you have any pressing questions regarding the birth and recovery, you can of course ask me, or one of the maternity staff. We can also forward your hospital records to your regular OBGYN.” 

“How long do you think it will be before we can go home?” Jake asks. 

She pulls the blanket back down and stands, peeling off her gloves. “Well, the fact is, we want to get her and your baby out of here ASAP to lower the chances of either of them picking up a secondary infection.” She smiles at me. “Now that the fever’s gone, we’re gonna get you off the drip and onto some oral antibiotics, and we can pretty much start the discharge process immediately.” 

“So soon?” My own question surprises me, but it’s out of my mouth before I realize it’s on the end of my tongue. 

“Believe me, it’s better we get you both out of here.” 

“I know. It’s not that I want to stay here. It’s just...thinking about how we’re going to get home...how soon we can get home…” 

“That’s all taken care of, Princess. Aleister is having Castor and Pollux deep cleaned, and he and Grace are gonna put us up for a few days until Mike gets up here from Santo Domingo. Diego and Varyyn are with Estela and Quinn, and your aunt and uncle basically paid for hotel rooms for everyone else.” 

His infodump has my head reeling a little, but there was one particular tidbit I find myself fixing on. 

“Why is Mike…?” I trail off as realization crashes down on me in an icy wave. A bit of information I had nearly forgotten in my struggle to bring my baby safely into the world while fighting a fever. Jake wasn’t worrying about me for all that time from the safety of our home in California. I don’t know the details, but I have a sinking feeling that has something to do with the reason that Mike isn’t here with us now. 

Jake folds my hand between his palms, glancing at the doctor. “Hey...do you have everything you need? I’d like a few minutes alone with my wife, if that’s okay.” 

“Of course. I’ll get the ball rolling on your discharge.” 

I wait until I’m sure she’s well clear of the room before I reach to stroke Jake’s cheek. “...I know Lundgren got his filthy hands on you. ...Fiddler told me. ...I’m guessing he got a hold of Mike, too.” 

He leans into my touch. “...And Sean and Michelle. Nabbed us all as I was bringing ‘em back from the island.” 

“I don’t know if she told me that. That conversation got swallowed up in worrying about you, and then I got sick and River started coming, and…” I swallow, running my thumb along the fuzzy ridge of his cheekbone. “...Did they hurt you? Any of you?” 

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Knocked us all around a little. Michelle’s the smart one, of course, so she escaped the worst. ...Mike’s in Santo Domingo having his prosthetics repaired. Lundgren ripped them out ot torture him.” 

I shudder. “Oh, god...Oh, Jake, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…” 

I’m crying before I realize it. And as soon as I do realize, it turns into sobbing. Jake reaches down to gather me in his arms and cradle my head against his shoulder, rocking me tenderly. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. In a few days, we’ll be home with our baby.” 

“I w-wanna be home,” I hiccup. “I wanna be home with River, but I’m scared of leaving everyone again. I just wanna bring them all home with us…” 

“Well, it’s a very big house. ...On the other hand, you cram us all into the same house long term, it might start to feel less big. Plus, it would mean a brutal cross-country commute for some of them.” 

I can’t help chuckling a little bit, which makes the sobs start to die down. Jake gives me a moment to get myself under control before he speaks again. 

“...How are you feeling, Princess? Really?” 

“Physically?” I pull back gently to lie down on the pillow again. “Definitely better. My head is clearer, and I don’t hurt as much. But I’m still worn out. And by the way, you’re gonna have to make due with blow jobs for awhile, because it’s gonna be a long time before you stick that thing in me again, if ever.” 

It’s his turn to laugh, and he bends to kiss me. “Princess, I will tug it for the rest of my life as long as you’re still a part of that life.” 

“I will be a part of your life as long as the universe allows,” I promise. “...But Jake, we both know this isn’t over.” 

He sighs, and I see his forehead crease before he presses it to mine. “I know. I know you’re right. But for River’s sake--and mine--will you let the others take care of that for now? I ain’t saying don’t worry, because I know that’s impossible. But River and I need you healthy. Can you stand to let yourself be looked after for a while?” 

I feel a rueful smile tug at one corner of my mouth. “Am I to assume that arguing is pointless?” 

A tapping at the open door to the birthing suite distracts Jake from answering. We both look up to find Raj and Diego hovering in the doorway, Raj with a paper bag in his hand, and Diego with his right arm in a soft blue sling. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since River was born, and I sit up a little straighter as he hesitantly steps over the threshold. 

“...Are we interrupting?” 

The baby has started fussing, and Jake eases off the edge of the bed to go pick her up. I open my arms to Diego. Just before he rushes into them, I see his face twist with anguish. And as he falls against me, his one-armed grip is surprisingly strong. 

“Goddammit, Allie,” he whispers quiveringly. “Goddammit…” 

“...Did I scare you?” 

He pulls back sharply, enough so he can look me in the face, but he keeps a grip on my shoulder. “Did you scare me?! You had me on my knees saying the Ave Maria! Do you know how long it’s been since I said the Ave Maria?!” 

There isn’t really a lot I can say to that, but I smile ruefully. “...Thanks for staying with me.” 

“What, you thought I’d bail?” 

I snort. “God, no. But I can still be grateful.” 

“...You’re really okay?” 

I nod. “I’m fine. The fever is gone, and the wound doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m still pretty sore down there, though.” 

A smile finally starts to play cautiously around his mouth. “...Well, that part’s Jake’s problem.” 

“How about you?” I ask, gingerly touching the strap of his navy blue sling. 

“That’s nothing serious. It was dislocated, but they popped it back in. Just got to wear this for a few more days, and take it easy once we get back home. ...Raj brought food, by the way.” 

“Oh!” I pull back a little to smile at Raj. “Sorry, big guy. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” 

Raj chuckles. “We’ll blame it on the new mommy brain and leave it at that. Speaking of which…” He shoos Diego back enough that he can drag my bed table over across my lap, and sets an insulated lunch box on top. “I figured you could do with something better than hospital fruit cups and oatmeal, so I brought you a special Raj lunch. Michelle supervised its creation, and it’s full of stuff that’s supposed to be good for new moms.” 

“What is it?” 

“So glad you asked!” With a flourish, he opens the bag, and pulls out each item in turn, presenting them like a game show prize lady. “A sandwich of salmon, spinach, and poached egg on whole wheat bread with a garlic white bean spread; in case you are extra hungry, a side of gourmet trail mix made from an assortment of nuts and dried fruit; and to drink, a pineapple-orange-banana smoothie with extra protein powder, and just a few extra leaves of spinach!” 

I can’t help but be uplifted by his enthusiasm, and hold out my arms for a hug. “I must be the most spoiled new mother in the world.” 

Raj embraces me lightly over the table. “As you should be. You know in some Asian cultures, a new mother spends a whole month resting while her mother-in-law takes care of her and the baby.” 

“Oh yeah?” I look at Jake. “Think your mother would spend a month taking care of me?” 

“Honestly, I bet she would. The problem would be getting her to ease up and let you start taking care of things after the month was up.” 

“Hmm...probably best not to give her ideas then.” 

“Probably. We’ll have my folks over in few more months, when we’ve had a chance to get settled.” 

“...But…” Raj says, “in the meantime, do you think you guys will be needing any extra help? I know it’s going to be a pretty full house as it is, but Diego’s going to want to take it easy with lifting and stuff for a while, and Michelle says Mike will probably need time to recover, too. If you need a couple extra pairs of hands and someone to do the cooking, I have some downtime, and I know Lila would be happy to come along.” 

I look questioningly at Jake, who shrugs. “I don’t have anything against that. It’s a big enough house. And if Varyyn and I are gonna be the only ones at full strength for the time being, I wouldn’t say no to a couple extra pairs of hands.”

“And probably better those hands be Raj and Lila than anyone’s parents,” Diego adds. “I bet Varyyn would prefer not having to wear his disguise twenty-four-seven.” 

“Yeah. And,” Jake adds with a sigh, shifting River to rest against his shoulder, “it’s probably preferable not to involve anyone who ain’t already involved in the bigger picture. ...Like you said before, Princess, this ain’t over.” 

“But for now, we’re all safe and sound, and Allie has a lunch to eat.” Diego smiles encouragingly as he pushes the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich toward me. “Go on. Dig in.” 

Jake

I gotta admit, it does my heart good to see my wife savoring the meal Raj brought her and enjoying our friends’ company. She seems almost back to her old self as she talks and tells jokes and teases with them. Although, as I put River in her arms, I can’t help but be reminded that she’ll never be exactly like her old self again. Not now that she’s a mama. Not like I’m ever gonna be exactly like my old self again either. I’m a daddy now. That’s gonna change me forever. The thought scares me, like it has a lot over the past nine months. But just a look at that precious little face is enough to reassure me that I am never gonna regret it. 

Diego and Raj eventually leave us on our own again. After nursing and burping, River sleeps just long enough that we can fill out her birth certificate, nestled side-by-side on the bed. From there, it’s not more than an hour or two before they’re wheeling Alodia toward the hospital exit with River in her arms again while I walk at her shoulder, a baby carrier in the crook of my elbow and my arms laden with flowers and mini mylar balloons. Any staff we happen to pass on the way out smile and wave or give us their congratulations. I have a feeling that in a hospital, any chance to see a patient off happy and healthy is a cause for celebration, and that probably goes double for a new mama leaving with a baby. 

Grace is waiting in a car for us at the curb outside the hospital. One of Reggie’s old carseats is in the backseat. Grace settles the baby in the carseat while I help Alodia into the seat beside her. 

“There’s a surprise for you guys when we get to our place,” Grace informs us as I circle around the car to get in on the other side of River. 

“Nothing too strenuous, I hope,” Alodia quips. “I am not up for a party yet.” 

Grace chuckles as she starts up the car. “Oh, believe me, I realize that. No, everyone is pretty sure parties are off the table for you for the time being. ...But you do know that everyone is going to want to see you before you leave, right? You gave us a scare, and no one wants you to go before we all know you’re okay. ...Plus, everyone wants to see River.” 

“I am not opposed to visitors,” Alodia assures her. “Just...only a few at a time.” 

“Absolutely. We won’t let you get overwhelmed.” 

“River, either,” Alodia adds, stroking our sleeping daughter’s downy hair. “Poor thing is probably overwhelmed as it is, suddenly coming into all this noise and color and light.” 

“Birth is the craziest thing that ever happens to us, and none of us remember it,” I remark, letting the blade of my forefinger run gently back and forth across the soft back of River’s tiny hand. Her little fingers twitch just slightly, and the base of her pacifier rocks back and forth across her lips, but she doesn’t wake up. I don’t expect the quiet will last. 

River does sleep throughout the half hour or so it takes to drive to Aleister and Grace’s luxury Northbridge apartment. As we pull up to the curb, I realize what our surprise is. 

“Mike!” 

I must have been a little louder than I thought, because River wakes up with a cry that can only be described as irritated, but it doesn’t fully register until I have already launched myself out of the car towards Mike. He’s balancing on a walker, so I at least have the good sense not to jostle him, but I can’t hold myself back from grasping him firmly by the shoulders. He grins, carefully removing his hands from the walker one at a time to grasp me back. 

“Good to see ya, Grandpa.” 

“Shit, you too! We weren’t expecting you for another couple days! How are you feeling?” 

“Well, as you can tell,” he says, nodding at the walker, “I’m not quite ready to run a marathon yet. But my new legs are healing up nice. ...Good to see you, Goldilocks.” 

His gaze shifts over my shoulder, and I turn to look back at my wife supporting herself on Aleister’s arm while Grace bounces River in her arms. Alodia smirks at me, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“I feel like I should make a joke about you abandoning your wife and child in the car to go hang out with your buddy,” she drawls. 

I grin sheepishly as Mike carefully returns his grip to the walker. “Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.” 

I lunge and sweep her up bridal style, and I have the pleasure of feeling her arms twine around my neck. 

“Mmm, much better. However, unlike your daughter, I am actually capable of walking.” 

“But you don’t have to. Not right now, anyway.” But I do return her to her feet after capturing her mouth in a kiss. I don’t entirely take my hands off her yet, though. After her ordeal, I don’t think she’s really that much steadier than Mike right now. Her grip as she slips her arm through mine confirms my concerns. 

I’m standing between my wife and my best friend, and neither of them are fully able to stand under their own power. I’m starting to feel that much more grateful to Raj for volunteering to help us out for a while. 

I think Mike notices Alodia’s weakness, too, because his forehead creases just a little. “You all right, Goldilocks? From what I hear, you gave everyone a real scare.” 

“It was pretty scary on my end, too. But I’m fine now. How about you?” 

Mike shrugs. “Ahh, you know. A few weeks of rehab, I’ll be a six-million dollar man again. In the meantime,” he adds wryly, stroking the frame of his walker, “it’ll be hard to call Jake ‘Grandpa’ when I’m dottering around on this thing.” 

“You just called me ‘Grandpa’ two minutes ago.” 

“And I cannot tell you how hard I internally cringed. Seriously, if you could have seen my internal expression, you’d have thought I was sucking lemons.” 

I am morally obligated to reach out and swat him for that, but before I can, Alodia abruptly steps forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It’s an awkward embrace, encumbered by the walker and both of them still being weak, but it’s a sincere one, and Mike leans into it gratefully. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Alodia murmurs. 

“You too,” Mike says softly, reaching up to pat her shoulder with one hand. “But can we go inside? I wanna properly meet that baby you’ve been carrying around for the past nine months!” 

***

The Catalysts come by in shifts throughout the afternoon and evening, apparently having planned it all out beforehand. No one stays more than an hour at a time, which proves to be a good thing, since Alodia is clearly worn out by about eight in the evening. We’re set up in the guest room of the Rourke apartment, with River in a bassinet beside us, and Mike on the foldaway bed in the living room. 

Alodia nurses River and rocks her to sleep before lying down herself. At first, I curl up beside Alodia in bed. She’s asleep within minutes, but I’m not as quick. And after an hour, it’s pretty clear that I’m not on my way to dreamland any time soon. I don’t want to leave Alodia or River. I never want to leave Alodia’s side again. But I’m restless. Anxious. And eventually, the desire not to disturb what precious little sleep my wife might have before our daughter wakes her up again wins out over my irrational need to pace back and forth between them. I check the windows, making sure they’re locked, then I slip out of the room as quietly as I can, heading back out into the living room. 

I find Mike, Aleister, and Grace all seated in the living room. On the coffee table are four short, round glasses and a bottle of golden red liquid that I’m guessing is some kind of whiskey. 

“We were starting to wonder if you had also fallen asleep,” Aleister says. He gestures to the glasses. “We thought you might like to wet your baby’s head.” 

“Kind of a weird expression,” I remark. Nonetheless, I pick up the bottle and take a seat in an armchair to read the label. “Ooh, Irish Mist. Fancy.” 

“It is not every day that one becomes a father. The night Reginald was born, Diego, Varyyn, and I toasted his birth with Irish Mist.” 

I crack open the bottle, and lean forward to fill each of the four glasses about halfway. I set down the bottle and raise my glass, the others following suit. 

“To River Skye McKenzie, my beautiful angel. And to her mother, my better half, who is truly the best and bravest of us.” 

“Here, here!” Grace says. We clink glasses, and I take a long, deep drink, savoring the sweet notes of honey and spices riding atop the alcoholic burn of whiskey. I return my glass to the table empty and lean back in my chair. 

“When my sister and I both were born, my grandpa had my dad and the men of the neighborhood over to smoke cigars on the porch.” I chuckle a little. “Rebecca remembers helping our grandma in the kitchen, and seeing all the men outside smoking. She says what she remembers most about the day I was born was our dad coming in from outside to give her a hug, but she pushed him away and said, ‘No, Daddy! You stink!’” 

My story prompts the expected laughter. 

“I am afraid Irish Mist will have to do tonight,” Aleister says. “I did not think to buy cigars. Nor would I know enough to ensure I was purchasing a quality product. As I understand it, Cuban cigars are the best, but those are illegal.” 

Mike shudders. “Honestly, I think the smell of a Cuban would be enough to give me flashbacks. Lundgren used to smoke contraband Cubans.” 

“Same here,” I agree. “I mean...there was that one time…” 

“...That one time what?” 

I chuckle a little, rubbing the back of my head. “Okay, no one currently in this room was there when Zahra blew up MASADA…” 

“What’s that got to do with Cuban cigars?” 

I sigh, but in spite of myself, in spite of how literally everyone else in the room with me was in some kind of bad situation at the time, I feel a smile playing around my mouth at the memory. 

“Okay, so it’s me, Alodia, Sean, Quinn, Estela, Craig, and Zahra trying to find another way out of the complex after the gondola gets severed, and when we go through a control room, Zahra gets the idea to blow the whole thing up. We figure it’s worth the couple extra minutes, so we let her do it. And while she’s rigging the system, I find one of Lundgren’s Cubans somewhere on the floor. ...And I light it up. But only to spite the bastard.” 

“But did you enjoy it?” Mike asks. 

“Hell, yeah! The hype ain’t a lie, buddy. Not saying I’d do it again unless it were one of his personal stash, but that was a real good smoke. ...Still...it wouldn’t be right to celebrate River with Cuban cigars. Lundgren and Rourke did enough to taint her birth.” 

“Nothing has been tainted,” Grace says firmly. “She and Alodia both came through it well and healthy.”

“I ain’t losing sight of what’s important,” I assure her. “But I can’t let my guard down, either.  ...We all know this ain’t over.” 

Grace sighs. “...No, you’re right. It isn’t over. ...Which means...I should probably tell you what I learned in Ireland.”

Diego

I knew that the Catalysts wouldn’t have sat on their hands while any of their own were in danger, but I am surprised to learn just how busy they were during the time that Allie and I were in Arachnid’s claws. I’m even more surprised--and frankly unsettled--by some of the things they learned. Yvonne might be alive. Lundgren flew the same plane that killed Allie’s parents, even though the twisted wreckage of that plane is the property of the NTSB. The whole mess with Allie’s mom, that weird AI message from a program made by Allie’s mom. It all leaves us with a lot more questions than answers. 

I told the police everything I felt like I could safely tell them. I went so far as to tell them that I think Everett Rourke might be alive because that’s who our kidnappers claimed they were taking us to. I don’t know if they believed me. I don’t know if the future of the Vaanti is safe. A part of me hopes that they lose interest in the case since everyone who was abducted has been recovered safely. But I also know that none of us are really safe until Rourke is either back behind bars or dead. 

Aleister and Estela make all the travel arrangements for those of us going back to California, including my folks and Allie’s. Castor carries me, Allie, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, Raj, Lila, Rebecca, and River. For once, Jake and Mike aren’t going to be flying. Pollux is taking our families. A third plane, smaller but no less luxurious, takes Jake’s parents back to Louisiana. They’re reluctant to leave him. They don’t want to be apart from their son, or their daughter, or their granddaughter. He assures them they can come visit soon, but that their daughter-in-law needs some time to recover first. 

At the airport, Allie’s aunt and uncle hesitate to part from her on the tarmac. Allie stands with River in her arms, patiently enduring as Molly smoothes her hair and kisses her forehead, asking if she’s sure Allie doesn’t want her and Rob to wait at the airport in California to drive her home. When Allie insists she’s sure; that Molly and Rob should go ahead and get home so they can rest. Rob says they’ll make sure there are cars waiting for us to take us all back to the house in Laguna. 

My parents board the plane before I arrive at the airport. On board the plane, I nestle up with Varyyn on one of the double-width leather seats. I wind my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He kisses the top of my head. 

“Are you alright, my love?” he murmurs. 

“...I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m just...disappointed. I knew my parents weren’t ready to meet you. But I had hoped...I don’t know. I had hoped it wouldn’t be like this. Even if I knew it probably would be.” 

Varyyn sighs, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. “They may yet come around. Or they may not. In the end, it is up to them. All I can promise is that I will love you regardless of their decision.” 

“...I love you, too.” 

“You guys all set?” Raj’s voice makes me look up. The others are boarding behind us and finding their seats. Jake helps Allie settle in and get her seatbelt on, River still cradled in her arms. 

“Are you sure a plane is really the best way to travel with a newborn?” Lila asks. 

“When the choices are between a rental car, a train, or a private plane for a cross-country trip, a private plane is hands down the best option,” Rebecca declares. “I mean, if we were on a commercial plane, I’d think twice, since those things are basically flying petri dishes. But this plane has been deep-cleaned, unlike the train. It’s more comfortable than a car, and faster than both the car or the train.” 

“Yeah, but what about her little ears? All the pressure?” 

“The doctor says that if I nurse her during take-off and landing, that should keep her comfortable. Besides...I just want to be home.” 

Home. The word washes through me in a way that comforts me even as it makes me want to cry. Images flash through my mind of the house I share with my husband, my best friend, her husband, and his best friend--and now, my little niece and goddaughter. Watching movies in the living room with Allie. Sharing dinner around the table or out on the balcony. Cuddling with Varyyn in the hot tub in the evening, letting the warm, swirling water sap the energy from my body, and then sliding into bed beside him and drifting off to sleep in his arms. At home, I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about losing anyone’s love. At home, I’m safe and free. I meet my best friend’s eyes, offering her a tired smile. 

“I’m with you, Allie. Let’s get home.” 

Raj

Nothing but the best for my friends, that’s my motto. I came to the house in Laguna Beach to make sure that my friends would have the best care while they needed it, and I waste no time in getting down to business. Alodia, Diego, and Mike need space to convalesce. But with a new baby in a huge house like this, there is a lot to be done. Jake and Varyyn can’t be expected to do everything, and that’s where I and Lila come in. 

River is constantly monitored. Whenever she cries, someone is ready to come running to change her diaper, or to bring her to Alodia for feeding. I prepare meals ahead of time that can be easily heated and served, so no one goes hungry. Lila helps me cook and keep the house clean. Alodia’s aunt and uncle attempt to send cleaning and catering services to her at one point, but they end up being politely refused. Lila and I have everything under control, and none of us want strangers poking around here. 

Alodia is occasionally moody, snapping at everyone to stop fussing over her, and she can’t wait to be free of this gilded cage and go back out into the world. This is usually followed by tearful apologies, with all of us assuring her that we don’t take it personally. She just had a baby, she’s allowed to be moody. Besides, the moment someone places River in her arms, it seems like everything is right in her world, and everything is right in our world, too. 

...Except it’s not. Not entirely. 

River is happy and healthy. Alodia is getting her strength back. Diego gets rid of the sling, and Mike starts to get around without the walker again. But underneath the surface, there is still trauma. There’s still fear. 

“They’re having nightmares,” I tell Lila one morning as we’re preparing breakfast. She pauses for a moment with a knife poised above an orange before swiftly slicing it in half. 

“Is that so surprising?” she asks. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but concentrates on making sure the thick, white heart of the orange half in her hand is positioned properly on the cone of the juicer before she presses down and begins to twist. Bright yellow juice splashes down into the container below. 

“Well, no. But it is sad. Jake and Alodia especially should be concentrating on enjoying their new baby, not having nightmares and worrying about whether Rourke’s coming back for them.” 

Lila pulls the now-deflated orange rind off the cone of the juicer and tosses it on the countertop. Ribbons of tattered orange flesh cling to the inside of the rind. She picks up the other half. 

“...Do you ever have nightmares from Mr. Rourke?” she asks softly. 

“Of course,” I reply. “Not as much as before, but I think we all have them sometimes. After what we all went through, I think I’d be more surprised if any of us didn’t.” 

The twisting of the orange on the juicer slows just slightly. The toaster pops behind me, and I pluck four pieces of perfectly browned bread from the slots to toss onto a plate. 

“...I have nightmares, too.” 

The butter has been softening on the counter, and my knife slides easily through it. The heat from the toast softens it further, and it spreads cleanly. 

“...You want to talk about it?��� 

Lila shakes her head, picking up her knife and another orange. “No. Not now. They don’t really matter anyway. They’re about things that happened in the past. I’m less scared of them than I am of what happens in the future.” 

“Do you mean Rourke’s next move?” 

“Of course that scares me. ...But more than that, I’m scared of him trying to use me against all of you again.” 

“We won’t let that happen, Lila. You’re safe with us.” 

“...But are you safe with me?” 

I pause a moment before putting down my knife. I turn to Lila, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and turn her toward me. 

“Lila...look at me. ...Has Rourke approached you at all since you’ve been with us again?” 

Her eyes widen in what looks like genuine surprise. “What? No, I...that isn’t what I meant!” 

I relax just a little. “...Okay.” I slowly take my hands away from her shoulders. “...You’d tell me if he had, wouldn’t you?” 

She nods. “Of course.” 

“Good. ...Because if he approaches you again, we can help you. We can help keep you out from under his thumb. ...We’re not gonna let him just have you back.” 

A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I believe you.” She hastily turns back to the oranges in front of her. “You should...um...finish buttering before the toast gets cold.” 

Overhead, the sharp, piercing cry of an infant rings through the air. I smile. Another morning blending into another day. It’s not perfect. We’ve got reason to worry. But for now, all is well. 

Diego

I keep my head down as I move through the halls of my high school, clutching the straps of my worn-out backpack. It’s the same shabby gray one I’ve been carrying since freshman year. I’m a junior now, and the corners near the bottom are starting to fray where the sharp corners of paper-bag covered textbooks have dug into them. 

My stomach growls. I skipped lunch again today. My parents were gone to work early again, and I didn’t leave myself enough time to make myself anything this morning. I barely had time to scarf down a banana for breakfast. I didn’t have enough cash for a cafeteria lunch, either, and besides, I preferred spending my lunch period playing on the computer in the library to sitting by myself at the end of a table filled with noisy strangers anyway. 

If I can scrape together enough change from the bottom of my pencil case, I might have enough to get a bag of chips from the vending machine before I have to go to my after school job. But for now, my hunger isn’t all that sharp, and I am heading towards English Lit, the only class I currently look forward to. 

The class is taught by Mr. Hunter. He also teaches the film-making class I want to sign up for next semester. He’s in his early fifties, and not handsome. He is tall and lanky, with gray-green eyes and a dark helmet of slicked back hair that sits atop a rectangular face. He has one of those mustaches that seemed to be popular in the 1970’s that always make a man look a little sketchy. He wears paisley shirts and slacks, and his voice reminds me of Bert from Sesame Street.

Mr. Hunter is the best teacher I’ve ever had at this school. When we studied Romeo and Juliet, he started off by giving us all a printed-off list of Shakespearean insults. When one girl tried to mumble her way through a line-reading, he shouted, “Put some feeling into it, you saucy wench!” 

Mr. Hunter is also gay, and he does not attempt to hide this. When my parents ask about my teachers and which ones I like best, I leave this fact out. If they knew, they would make me switch to another class. Mr. Hunter has a picture of himself with his boyfriend on his desk. I’ve seen it when I’ve gone up to hand in assignments. His partner is bald and ruddy-skinned. He’s not handsome, either, but he has an open, friendly smile. Sometimes, I imagine them kissing. I worry that I have a crush on Mr. Hunter. 

On the post of every classroom door is a laminated pink triangle, with a message proclaiming that this is a safe space for LGBTQ students. These triangles are mandated by the school district. Not every teacher honors them. One teacher actually tore hers down and refused to put it back up. She was fired. Last year, two girls were voted “Cutest Couple” in their senior class. I look at the triangles, prominently displayed as I walk into each classroom, and I don’t feel particularly safe. I feel safe in Mr. Hunter’s classroom. 

Inside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, two boys from the football team act out a love poem with one of them in a curly blond wig and the bottom of his shirt tucked into his collar to create a crop top. They end with a flourish, with the boy in the wig jumping into the other boy’s arms and goosing him. Everyone applauds their performance, including Mr. Hunter. 

Outside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, guys of all stripes growl “faggot” in my direction, and even the girls who are nice to me seem pitying more than anything. There’s a Pride club that meets after school two days a week, but I don’t dare join. I’m slowly realizing I can’t deny the truth anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can just announce it to the world. 

I have just enough change to buy a bag of chips after school. I put it in my backpack as I make my way toward the library where I work for a few hours each day. I see Sam Dzugan eyeing me as I pass through the main doors to the school, and feel dread so familiar that it’s almost dull. Of all the bullies at this school, Sam is the worst. He also knows where I work. If he’s bored and hungry for a power fix tonight, I’m in for a rough walk home. 

But he doesn’t follow me to work. At the library, I set to work filing back the books from the return cart. As I do, my mind wanders to the same place it always does: Alodia. 

Alodia. My ideal friend. I conjure up an image of her beside me. She would be pretty, like all the most popular girls at school. I summon a small, pale figure with blonde hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. I talk with her in my head as I wander the aisles of the library with the return cart. I can picture her cheeky smile as clearly as if she were really beside me. I have spent many years getting the details of her perfect. Early incarnations of her were dark-haired. Green-eyed. Taller. I drew pictures of her. I wrote down her description in a private notebook that I kept under my mattress. But she never felt as real as when I wrote her with golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes. 

She laughs at all my jokes as I work the rest of my shift. I forgot to eat the chips I bought, and I’m hungry enough now to start feeling dizzy. ...Alodia would invite me to dinner at her house. A huge, fancy house with a pool, where a chef would have prepared a gourmet meal. 

“Don’t worry about Sam,” she would say. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll fight him off.” ...Because Alodia would be fierce. A fighter. Alodia was a hero. A hero who loved me unconditionally. 

Alodia was never meant to be my lover. I wasn’t looking for a lover when I first dreamed Alodia into existence, which is probably why I always imagined her as a girl. I could scarcely imagine having a lover before I had a friend. That was what Alodia was to me. A friend. A friend who would always love me. A friend who I could tell my secrets to without judgment. A friend to fight for me and protect me, who saw value in me, and needed me back. 

But my friend is a fantasy. And when I leave work and Sam corners me in the encroaching darkness, Alodia vanishes…

...I wake up with a gasp, bolting upright in the darkness of my room. Beside me, Varyyn grunts in his sleep and rolls over, the moonlight reflecting off his blue skin. I stare at his sleeping form for a moment, trying to take stock of myself. I’m shaking. My pajamas are damp with sweat. I feel cold. I feel sick and empty with fear. I don’t exactly remember what I was dreaming about, but one thought keeps echoing in my mind: Allie. I have to find Allie. 

I slip out of bed as gently as I can while I’m still trembling. I don’t want to wake Varyyn. As I slip into the hall, motion-sensitive lights plugged into the sockets near the floor illuminate my path. My dream is still hazy, but bits and pieces trickle back as I shuffle down the hall with my hand on the wall. I was alone. Allie didn’t exist. It was a timeline that I have all but forgotten, and it felt entirely too real. 

I need to find her. Or at least evidence that she still exists. The door to the nursery is slightly ajar, enough that I can see the soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table. I peek through the crack in the door and relief floods through me. Allie, bundled up in her robe and slippers, sits in the rocking chair with River in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. I exhale slowly. I should go back to bed, but I am not ready to let her out of my sight yet. I start to push open the door. She gasps a little, looking up sharply. 

“Oh, Diego!” She smiles at me, settling back into her chair. “You startled me.” 

“Sorry,” I whisper back. “...Did I wake up River?” 

“No. I just fed her, so she’ll probably be out for an hour or two.” She looks up at me as I come to settle into the armchair across from her. “...What are you doing up?” 

“...Bad dream,” I admit. “...About...about you. I had to come check on you or I was never going to get back to sleep.” 

I half-expect her to joke about me being a creeper watching her while she sleeps, but instead she sighs. “...I kinda know the feeling.” 

“Yeah. I bet you do.” 

“You wanna stay up with me for awhile?” 

“Yeah. But I feel like I should be telling you to get some sleep while you can.” 

“I probably should be sleeping,” she admits. “...But I don’t really want to let her go.” 

There’s not really much I feel like I need to say to that. I understand. I don’t think there’s anyone in this house who doesn’t empathize with that feeling in one way or another. Especially now. 

“...Diego…?” 

“Yeah, Allie?” 

For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, though her mouth opens and closes a couple times. Then, she swallows and takes a deep breath. 

“...I love you. I love you, and I love Jake, and Raj, and all the Catalysts…” 

“We love you, too, Allie.” 

“...When you imagined me. In that other timeline. When I didn’t come to be until the Island...did you ever imagine my future?” 

I can’t help flinching. Her words feel like a cold pinprick at the top of my spine. “...Allie...I...I don’t really remember that timeline…” 

“I know. I know. But...it happened. It existed. I was once born to be what you needed. What all the Catalysts needed. ...But now...now I have River. Someone new who needs me. She needs me more than any of my Catalysts.” 

“I...I think that’s true,” I say slowly. “...We all love you, and we want you with us. But River is your child. She’s helpless and new. She needs your love and your care and your guidance to survive.” 

“...I’m scared, Diego. I’m scared by how much I love her. I’m scared by how much she needs me.” 

My earlier fear is being replaced with concern that is entirely for my friend.  “...Allie...are you okay? Is this some kind of postpartum depression?” 

“I don’t know what this is, Diego. I know that I love River more than I ever thought I could love anyone alive. I would have torn myself apart for my Catalysts without hesitation. I gave up my existence to give my Catalysts the world. ...But I can’t consider that anymore. Because River needs her mother.” 

“Oh, Allie. That’s not a bad thing. None of us want you to tear yourself apart.” 

“I know. ...But I am afraid of what happens if the world asks for it. ...If I end up at the Threshold again, or a new Raan’losti…” She looks up at me. “...Diego...I think I have to face what’s in the pool shed.” 

I feel my blood run cold. I know what’s in the pool shed. The collection of objects that were left for us in the Crystal dimension when we went to rescue Tahira. Including…

“...Are you sure?” 

She nods. “...It was left for me to find for a reason. I have to touch the Andromeda idol again.” 

[oftenderweapons]

Apple of My Pie — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 1.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.5k words

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst.

Rating: suggested 18+ (there are brief apparitions of dirty thoughts, also future episodes will contain NSFW material)

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin and Buttercup met when she was nothing but a scared, homesick first year student. Four years later, the two share an apartment close to her university and his bakery and café, and are the best of friends, sharing the house, several meals and, most importantly a sacred breakfast ritual. However, as far as sharing goes, Seokjin’s heart has belonged exclusively to Buttercup for four years. Exhausted, Jin finally decides to let go of his unrequited feelings, or at least try.  

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Oh, this is chill. Light swearing, heavy infraction of The Silent Roommate Code (aka don’t do the nasty with your bf when your roommate is sleeping in the bed at the other end of the room. Especially if she’s a virgin, first year and very homesick). Also, there is a quick flash image of breast worship, sorry.  

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion

Enjoy! ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

It was a slow morning at Jin’s café, only a pair of clients sitting at the small table in the corner, two girls who always met there on Sunday morning, at an illegal hour for the weekend. They had outdoor equipment with them, and probably it was just a stop for a quick breakfast before going skiing or trekking, which was strange considering the disastrous downpour outside, but who was he to debate.

Plus the usual early birds were late too, probably because of the university bonfire the night before.

Seokjin yawned and silently cried over his lost hours of sleep. He was ready to sit down, tip the back of his head against the wall and sleep — actually, rest his eyes —, when the bell at the front door dinged, announcing a new customer.

He inhaled and wore his best smile, standing up. “Good morn— Oh my god, sweetie are you alright?” He asked, seeing a drenched young girl stand at the door.

“I might use a friend.”

That girl was you, running away from your roommate and her boyfriend fucking in your dorm room. Right in the bed beside yours. With you there. And they didn’t even bother keeping quiet.

Seokjin was awestruck. You were soaked like a stray kitten left out in the rain, your hair sticking to your face, your eyes wide and your lip trembling, speaking of several degrees of trauma. “Poor thing.” He murmured, “wait, I should have a blanket back here.”

He dashed for the small cot he had in his office, in the back of the shop, gripping the fleece blanket and bringing it back to the counter, jogging around it and opening the blanket wide as he stared at you. “It’s better if you take off your robe. It’s dripping wet.” He said discreetly.

The girls at the front stared at the scene, a bit worried about you but mostly endeared at the cute barista taking care of you.

“May I use the restroom? The shirt underneath is, uh, thin... Oh, god this is so embarrassing.” You hid your face in your hands.

“Of course,” Jin blushed to his ears, offering you the blanket. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? Cocoa?”

Your lip wobbled, eyes watering and not for the rain. “Cocoa?”

“Yes, sweetie. Go get changed, the restroom is over there.” He pointed at the door.

“Thank you so much.” You said, placing the blanket in front of your chest.

Seokjin rushed behind the counter, grabbing a rag to dry up the wet patches you had left on the floor before someone slipped. Next he got your cocoa ready.

In the quiet morning, through the background music and the gentle chatting of the other two clients, he could hear you using the hand dryer, glad that it was set on hot air so that you could hopefully warm yourself in the process. He even thought of bringing you in the actual bakery, where he had a small traditional stove operated by firewood, other than the big oven working for croissants and banana bread and brownies and pies.

You emerged from the bathroom a little more composed, bundled up in his blanket.

It smelled good. Like raw sugar, butter and apples. A tinge of raisins.

It smelled domestic, like your granny.

You missed your granny.

You missed home.

Your lip wobbled again.

“Come sit”, he said, pointing at a chair in a private corner of the room, somewhere you would be a bit protected from the rest of the shop. It was also conveniently close to the counter, so he could check on you and ask you if you wanted to talk about what had happened. His first thought was that you were a teenage runaway with very bad planning skills, considering that you had run out in your pyjamas and a jacket, your shoes definitely inappropriate for the weather outside, holding only a pair of keys and your wallet in your hands, placing them on the counter once you sat.

“I’m Seokjin.” He said kindly, offering you his hand.

You caught his hand and introduced yourself.

“So, what brings you here with this devil weather so early on a Sunday morning.”

“Running away from my roommate and her boyfriend.” You said, hugging the blanket tighter around you.

“What hap— Nevermind, I think I got it.” Seokjin said, blinking repeatedly. Goodness, people were nasty. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, placing the cup of cocoa in front of you. “Cream? Cocoa powder? Cinnamon? Chocolate sauce? Marshmallows?” He asked.

You teared up. “Marshmallows.”

He poured an abundant amount of them as he pouted, noticing you had become even more upset.

“There you go, Buttercup.” He said, smiling at you so kindly.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice weak and your forehead creased as you desperately tried not to let your tears spill.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, delicately letting his hands move toward yours, moving slowly to see if you took it away. “May I?” He asked, his fingers hovering over yours.

You nodded. While your left hand held the blanket close to your chest, your right ended pressed between his warm palms, the one on top rubbing your knuckles.

“How old are you?” He asked, worried. He wore a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, you look very young, I’m just asking to see if I should call your parents or anyone adult.”

“I live at the dorms. I’m in college.” You said, frowning a little.

“As I said, you look very young. And there are some underage students here so...” He explained, his deep, dark eyes breaching through your bad mood.

“I’m a first year. Nineteen.” You said.

“Poor darling, that must be so hard on you.” He said softly, still patting your hand.

You nodded. “I miss my family. My granny.”

“Oh, buttercup.” He cooed.

If you were in a sane state of mind you would have snickered at yourself and at how miserable you looked.

Still, you were grateful for the kind and gentle Seokjin. And how easily he had brought you back home, with the scent of his café, the taste of the cocoa and the specific brand of marshmallow that your grandmother always got for you when you were little.

“It’s a three hour drive. And it’s tough here.” You said, hiding your face as you dried one tear.

“Do you have any friends here?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Seokjin smiled, his eyes becoming even kinder as his cheeks became round and puffy. “From today, I’m your friend.”

Seokjin, you are a strong-willed, honest man. You are a gentleman. You are a good human. He kept repeating in his brain.

You are a polite, friendly, reliable. You are her friend. He repeated as a mantra.

Still, his brain was completely drowned with thoughts of you in the shower.

The two of you had become flatmates in rushed circumstances after you found an apartment ten minutes away from your university, which allowed you to walk there without having to take the bus or end up in the decrepit dorms, sharing a room way too small with someone way too rude or too loud.

Seokjin still didn’t know what had convinced him to share an apartment with you. It was hell. And heaven too, when he didn’t keep reminding himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, that you would never see him like that, and that he shouldn’t be playing house with you.

It was torture and bliss. Bliss on your Sunday mornings, when you could have breakfast together, or random nights when you would have movie marathons together and you would fall asleep against his shoulder, when he would cook for you and you would have dinner together over a glass of wine, laughing and making jokes. The more he spent time with you like that, seeing you drink your morning cup of coffee while still half asleep, on those days when he had someone else doing the morning shift — which was extremely rare — the more he realised you were absolutely perfect for him.

And then torture.

In moments like this, while you were under the shower, when you got out of it and as usual you walked around the house clad in nothing but a towel, absolutely comfortable in your skin, or when you thought he wasn’t home and he could hear your breathy moans and little whimpers, and then again on those two or three nights you had taken somebody home — in those circumstances he felt like he was paying for an ancient crime he didn’t know he had committed.

You had convinced him to move in with you since the apartment — being close to the university — was also incredibly close to his shop, and once he saw your eyes glimmering, your pretty face begging him to accompany you to visit the apartment, he couldn’t really say no.

So, he had said yes.

And once he saw the building, and the warm, domestic ambience, he realised that even if he would never be your lover, the least he could allow himself was to live this small daydream with you.

A week later you and him had signed the papers to rent the place. And everything had escalated from there. You had become the closest of friends, trusting and leaning on each other in every moment, through every difficulty.

However, the more he got to know about the men you dated, the more he realised you would never be attracted to him.

They were all fancy preppy boys who very likely knew the entirety of the Oxford dictionary and could probably recite Shakespeare sonnets impromptu. One of them could easily have been grandson to a duchess or a marquise. And he was pretty sure the first boy you had dated — second year university — had even a trust fund.

It was basically unreal for you to look at him with anything but friendly appreciation.

In an attempt to silence his thoughts, he got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, starting the coffee machine and getting your breakfast ready.

Maybe you would have completely ignored it being January and you would have simply climbed the barstool by the counter wearing your bathrobe, your hair still wet, and the two of you could have had breakfast just like that, without any kind of embarrassment.

As soon as coffee started brewing, your nose appeared from the bathroom door, barely ajar as you slipped out in a soft-looking white t-shirt.

As he threw a glance in your direction he knew immediately that you had very likely stolen the undershirt from his freshly washed laundry.

You slithered out of the bathroom and with stealthy footsteps you occupied your regular spot in the kitchen, watching as he prepared all the necessary material for a respectable breakfast.

“Good morning.” He said as he saw you perched on your favourite seat.

“Morning.” You replied, your feet bare, your toes gripping the small bar connecting the two front legs of the chair. “I thought you were at the café.” You said, pushing your hair away from your face. They weren’t dripping, but they were still a bit damp, especially since you had stopped drying them as soon as the smell of hot coffee reached you in the bathroom.

“Lara is covering the morning shift. I’m doing tea time today. The ladies love me and Lara can’t stand them asking about her boyfriend. I can’t have her kiss and grind on her girlfriend in the middle of my distinguished bakery out of spite.” Jin placed some apple slices on your plate, together with a quite large piece of apple pie.

In a small bowl, he poured some dry fruit before placing it on the table.

“Petty, angsty thing she is.” You said, clicking your tongue. “A true hero.”

He snickered. “Not surprised you’re friends.”

“I am patience made person.” You said, playfully offended.

“Like that one time you smashed a plate on the floor because you had burnt yourself when taking it out of the oven.”

“It was an accident. I dropped it.”

“Like it’s hot.” Seokjin murmured under his breath, lightly swaying his hips as he finished aesthetically placing your food on the plate.

“What?” You asked, comically confused.

“Nothing.” He said, stopping altogether before pouring you some coffee, adding a spray of whipped cream and decorating it with caramel and crushed caramelised almonds.

Jin asked himself how many more times he’d be able to cook you breakfast; how long until he would have to teach someone else, until you would move out with another person and you start your day with crappy industrial food instead of homemade pies and organic apples and his grandmother’s dried hazelnuts and almonds and freshly toasted chestnuts when the season was right.

Whenever he was home, he spoiled you with homemade breakfast. It was the only way he truly allowed himself to show you how desperately in love with you he is. Anytime he cooked, love simply seemed to pour out of his body through the powerful way he kneaded biscuit and pie batter, and the delicate gestures he used to place each part of a dish to form beautiful works of art: crimson red wine risotto on white porcelain plates; juicy cuts of meat, perfectly cooked in that wondrous oven of his, with a deep brown layer on the outside and the most tender dark pink in the middle, laying on the freshest bed of lettuce with a thin dribble of balsamic vinegar and crushed green peppercorn on deep blue rectangular plates.

And every Sunday was sacred. Every Sunday morning he woke up like he had spent all Saturday night courting you and making love to you — minus the obvious relief and satisfaction that come from spending all night on a bed with the person who is your partner and your lover at the same time. Sunday morning was his favourite ritual. Waking you up with the smell of your favourite hot chocolate — the one you seemed to be addicted to, and that he used on you and against you very wisely — and then cake, a different one every week, and again fruit and sometimes, in summer he would go to the closest farm, buy the milk directly from the farmer, a friend of his grandmother, at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, bring it home, pasteurise it so that it was ready for Sunday morning, when he would use it for the healthiest of smoothies.

He loves you. He has loved you for years. And after two years of living together, losing hope was a possibility.

A possibility a bit too vast at the moment. Actually — hopefully — reality.

Today would be like any other day if it weren’t for one small fact.

Two days ago it had been four years since he first realised he had fallen for you. And two days ago he had decided he would stop chasing after you.

Therefore, he had decided that from then on, he would let go of you, even if that meant losing a part of himself. And today he would actively start walking a new path.

Once the table was ready, he arranged both your and his plate there, without passing you your cup of coffee — as he usually did — and waiting for you to come to the table.

You moved your hair out of the way as you sat down, taking your fork, not even noticing Seokjin’s first sign of petty detachment. You immediately stabbed your fork inside the apple slice and bit into it.

“Do you have lessons today?”

“Romantic Philology in the afternoon.” You replied munching, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, accidentally exposing two wet patches on the front of your t-shirt.

Actually, Seokjin’s t-shirt, but you decided he didn’t need to know that: you had simply forgotten to carry your clothes to the bathroom and once you heard the bustle going on in the kitchen, you managed to find a pair of pyjama pants in the clean laundry, but not a shirt. And you had stolen one of Seokjin’s. Not like it was a big deal.

“Romantic as in love?” He asked.

“No, as in 1830s, German, English and Italian. We’re looking into Byron and Shelley. Sometimes it’s outright boring, but our professor is so hilarious, she sees right through all those pompous arses.” You said, getting started on your masterpiece of a coffee.

“Oh.” Seokjin said. One more point for the preppy kids.

“No, it’s just academic stuff. Nothing that is actually worth something in real life. Some days I just wish I could give up on Goethe and Scott and the Brontes so I could bake cookies without a care in the world.”

And every day he wished he could give you just that. Turn his bakery into your sanctuary, hold you there, half guest, half hostage.

He decided to halt his thoughts there. No more.

“So you have teatime. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You asked.

“Actually no.” He said casually.

You stopped munching on your food. “Oh. It’s not Tuesday, though. Are you out with the guys, random meet up? Is Namjoon in town?”

“No.” He glued his eyes to the plate. No, he had not noticed your hardened nipples, a vague halo of dusty pink appearing from underneath the thin, wet white cotton. No. He would not let his mind wander. No, he would smash the thought out of his mind. 

Smash you. 

No! The thought. His mind. Out.

Like the colour didn’t remind him of fresh raspberry ice cream, like he hadn’t imagined dragging frozen raspberries against your oh-so-responsive buds, only to warm them with his mouth afterwards, pinch the small fruits between his fingers, crush them until tiny droplets of ruby juice landed on your lush breasts, his tongue lashing out to collect the liquid and lave your luscious curves.

But this time the thought did not enter his brain. This time he let it wither and dissolve into fine, sterile dust.

“Are you having dinner with your granny? And you didn’t invite me?” You said, pouting. “Her roast-beef is—” You stopped and swooned. “The definition of perfection.”

“I’m out on a date.” He said briefly and simply.

You frowned and quickly lifted your eyebrows, not letting the confusion show. “You sure you still know how those work?”

“It’s not like I’m celibate.” He said shrugging with his humongous shoulders. Lifting all those sacks of flour… And helping at the farm— You frowned again.

“Cinnamon?” He asked, knowing that the spice sometimes bothered you.

“No, no...”

“Do you need assistance, for your date? You sure you don’t mean the exotic, typically Egyptian fruit?”

“I mean I’m going out with a girl.” Seokjin started growing impatient.

“Who is it?” You asked, out of curiosity. In two years he had never brought a girl home. And in four years you had know each other, you had never seen him with a female friend or an actual girlfriend. You didn’t even know what is his type.

“Her name is Grace. She’s been a regular at the café for a few months now. She asked me out and I thought it would be rude to say no.”

Your interest poked, you placed down your fork. “Did she invite you?” You held your coffee in your hands, trying to keep yourself from gesticulating nervously.

“No. I did.” He said, finishing his pie and starting to eat all the hazelnuts in the small cup.

“I mean. Plenty of girls give you their phone number on a weekly basis. I literally find them everywhere. There’s around thirty on top of the washing machine alone, because I can’t do your laundry and have all those pieces of papers disintegrating and infesting our laundry and the drain. Why didn’t you ignore her like all the rest?” You asked, a bit upset.

“Because she seems a nice person,” who could love me back, which you don’t. He replied, leaving half the motivation silent in his brain.

“Cool.” You said, finishing your coffee before standing up and placing the cup in the sink.

“Cool,” he replied, neutral, watching as you left all the almonds and dried banana slices in the cup, the pie on your plate. “You’re not done with breakfast.”

“I’m late with my homework.” Which you weren’t, but you felt like your breakfast had been poisoned. Maybe that’s why you felt sick in your stomach.

Seokjin pouted and finished his food before placing your leftovers in small boxes. He knew you would come back hungry from uni and finish the food you had abandoned.

He didn’t read too much into your reaction. He was done trying to understand you.

Today he was finally done being stuck at a crossroad, and although your path in the woods felt and looked lovely and smelled even better, he opted for the safe, trodden and charted way that led out of the woods, into the uneventfulness of the ordinary.

———————————————————

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

[flow-green]

Fresh dog onwer and a Fuck-It-Diet

Slowly I am crawling out from my black hole. Few months of silence has been broken. I disappeared for a bit due to quite severe reason. I will not reveal it here in details, if anyone is interested, feel free to DM me :). It was not related to my ED. Life just happened and decided to throw quite a tricky challenge on my way, which luckily got solved in a positive way, and within March I managed to pick myself back up again.

These two months were quite adventurous and opened my eyes on many levels. I started to appreciate more what and who surrounds me and how dear and important my family and close ones are to me. I realized that I hurt them with my self-destructive behavior and this constant worrying over me is an unnecessary burden and a source for stress. So, I am really grateful for this experience. More and more I have started to let go of the restrictions and demons in my head and slowly move towards a mentality that my body is my own temple, my own home and serves me and myself only, and not someone else. Or, well, perhaps in an uncertain future it will be a temporary home for another person, so I should really take care of my body.

These last two weeks have opened my eyes even more, because by a happy accident I stumbled upon a book, but more on that a bit later. First, I would like to tell you about one of the biggest changes of my life, which has brought so much happiness and positivity to our lives. Namely, we now have a new family member. No, I did not have a baby (a bit ironic in this context...), but now there is a constant cheerful pit-a-pat on our floor, made by four cute little paws. On February 16 we got an unexpected opportunity to get a dog! Charlie has now been with us almost 2 months, 2 amazing months. In his quite unique size and unknown breed (we suspect a fox is somehow involved...) he has turned us into these crazy dog lady and sir, you know, like a crazy cat lady.

I think if people saw us right now just the three of us in our natural habitat, they would never ever dare to do any official busines with us.

Anyhow, here he is. Charlie even has his own Instagram account (another sign that we definitely are not normal)

Mr. Dog has a massive amount of dog fur which happily floats all over the house and if we vacuum the entire place on Wednesday morning, all the fur bunnies have taken their natural place back to themselves.

Charlie is cool. With his happy face he rides with us to all the places around the country, he loves car rides. Every weekend we go to some new place in Estonia to explore, our 10 km (over 6 miles) hikes have become our cool new habit. One morning was especially special. We both lost our sleep around 4 AM in the morning and after an hour of chit chat in the bed while Charlie still slept between us (yes, he is a heavy sleeper and definitely not a morning person and yes, he sleeps in our bed. Deal with it), we decided that enough of bedtime and no more sleep. let’s wake up as the sun will rise at 6 AM. Let’s make some breakfast and lunch to go, watch the sunrise with coffee and then go to an early hike in Käsmu, around the epic seaside in Northern Estonia. Done deal. This was one of the most amazing days in my life.

Charlie is just like a therapy dog. Every time when I feel like breaking down in tears, I hug Charlie tight and let him comfort me with his soft cuddles and confident and wise eyes. All the sorrow and worries are gone. Charlie has also made us so active physically. We take several longer or shorter walks throughout the day. I have started to really love walking and running again and for me, for myself, and not for calories or for punishment. I am not counting distance or pace anymore. Every evening I fall asleep, happily excited about my upcoming morning run. I truly enjoy every last step I take.

But, as I promised, a few lines about my new ‘diet’ called The Fuck It Diet. Recently, I pampered myself with another e-reader and this motivated me to search some books which are suggested for people struggling with eating disorders. ‘The Fuck It Diet’ popped up and caught my eye. I managed to get it as an e-book and eagerly dug the pages in. The first lines already made my jaw drop: at first with anger towards the stated facts and later on because of complete understanding.

This book has totally topsy-turvy’ed my views as it describes my current situation in exquisite correct details. My whole belief system about diets, eating habits and weight numbers have completely changed. The whole book teaches you how to get rid of food addiction, self-esteem issues and obsession about body image and weight.

Why have I spent over 10 years battling with anorexia, bulimia and binge eating disorder? Why do I relapse in my hardest moments and total body hating world into an absurd calorie restriction, where I lose 6+ kg in 2 months, can keep myself skinny, yet sad for maximum 3-4 months, because I will not allow myself to eat anything as I want to lose even more to keep some buffer weight, then get tired and surrender and then eat back all those lost pounds and even more within few weeks? Why can’t I lose weight if I decide that instead of starving myself instead, I will go on some new diet, but this gives no result, weight will not drop, I get frustrated and get back to purging out food or get back to bingeing? Why does this wheel go round, and round and my weight will keep fluctuating vigorously and never stabilizes? Who do I go from one extreme to another? I have punished and scolded myself for years. I have tried to search or reasons: perhaps my genes are messed up and I am forever destined to keep my intake at 500 calories, so I can keep myself in that sweet spot of underweight and normal weight (because that is the only acceptable weight range for me. Sick, isn’t it?)

And then I got my answer: it is not about me or my genes. It’s because of these diets, no matter how beautiful the creators have painted them. It’s because human body has not meant to follow absurd rules about eating, be it fasting, LCHF, keto, paleo, raw vegan, or even mindful eating (eat slow! Rate your hunger! It’s under 10? You are not about to collapse from hunger? Good, drink some lemon water instead. See? Another bunch of rules to stress your brain out).

Most people commute from one diet to another, follows the rules and counts the calories for few months and then a relapse enters. it always does. Then, you will buy another diet plan, which promises even better results. You will haul for absurdly expensive foods like nut butters, almond flour, coconut oil. You replace your favorite foods with some silly alternative. You Google why the hell do I have a massive craving for Chocolate, which of course is your forbidden food. Google tells you have a magnesium deficiency (which might actually be true you know), but the solution: eat 12 almonds and forget about the chocolate. Be honest, that answer frustrates you a bit, deep down. So, instead to go and buy the damn chocolate and make your brain shut up, you force the craving down because FORBIDDEN! But at some point, you still go, buy the chocolate, eat it, and then promise yourself that now you will not touch another piece of chocolate once in upcoming months, will also restrict your intake a few weeks and eat your almonds. And are miserable. And then you eat some more chocolate. And are miserable again. Round and round, it goes.

And you gain those 10 pounds back. WHY, for the love of god?

Simple: your body has no clue whatsoever anymore, what the hell is going on. Years and years, you have kept your body in an unnatural state of starving, famine. Dietary culture has taught us that in order to lose weight all nice, you need to keep yourself in a calorie deficit and this should be around 1200-1500 cals in a day, maximum calorie intake cannot be more than 2000. You count every bite, every mouthful, you write it all down to MyFitnessPal. You eat your food, but you still crave for something more and are already worried about your next meal: can I eat something soon? What can I eat for dinner? Dude, you JUST ate, and you SHOULD feel full. If you don’t, there is obviously a problem. If you are full and STILL want something, there is obviously a problem. And your body is screaming at you the only solution. You worry about food 85% of your day (for me it was 100%, yes, even when I was having sex. Just SPECTACULARLY awesome!)

Body is not stupid. Body now has been taught that no matter what, there is always a next diet and famine state around every corner all the time. Body is scared. Body listens to the brain which constantly repeats those endless rules about eating. No chocolate, no pizza, bread is bad, cheese is bad, ice cream?! Are you stupid? Only a mango sorbet, something sugar free and watery or even better: make your own ice cream from banana (but remember, only HALF A banana!). Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest and then you will go and buy 2 liters of ice cream and eat it all in one go. You will torture yourself afterwards because ice cream is forbidden. You cannot eat it; you need to restrict and go for a 20-k run.

Now comes the most sillies, but the most logical fact: in order to break the cycle, there is only one simple solution: EAT! Everything. A lot. Eat it all that you have craved for years and years and have vetoed. Eat your cravings. Eat even when you are not hungry. Just eat whenever you feel like it. Eat until you are absolutely 100% satisfied and say honestly: no more. This process can take weeks, months, even years, depending on the individual. People in the book describe how they needed three whole years to reprogram their body back to its natural cycle. And it is scary, boy it’s scary. But you just need to take the leap into the water full speed, no splashing with your toes a bit to test the water. The faster you jump, the faster you get the wheels running. Result? Body calms down. Brain can finally rest and reprogram itself back to the way it must be. No food is forbidden anymore (unless you have a severe nut allergy. Please do not eat nuts if you might actually die). The brain now knows that whenever it wants something, it can actually get it, no strings attached, and calms down.

Yes, your will gain weight, sorry, this is not all strawberries and cream (yum, now I want strawberries and cream, will get some for dinner). At first, your body will not trust you. Would you trust yourself if you have been treated miserably for years? It is certain that it’s a trick and another diet is just around the corner. It takes time for it to calm down and start functioning the way it was meant to be. Weight will go up until the body heals and then... it will stop, the weight will naturally balance out, probably even go back down between the weight set points that everyone has, depending on your body and personal physical factor. I know that my middle goldilocks zone is about 5-6 kg more than my absolute lowest weight (right now I am around 10 kg heavier than my all time lowest and it is still in between my weight set points) and I am now completely okay with that number.

And I have now practiced this approach for half a week. Day before yesterday I had some Hesburger (McDonalds basically; had a vegan burger with FRIES), yesterday I ordered myself a vegan pizza without a second thought, with vegan cheese and everything, the whole package. I have now eaten ice cream for 4 days straight (one of my biggest forbidden foods), some vegan desserts. And yesterday I had my first shocking moment. I bought myself another ice cream after the pizza and right after I had bought it, I realized, that I actually do not want it right now. I have no craving. I got home and threw it in the freezer. After my dinner of soup and grilled cheese (!!!), I decided that I am going to eat the ice cream now. I had eaten half of it when I felt that I don’t want it anymore. I still finished it as it was a really small cone, but it was clearly more than enough. The rest of the evening I had no more cravings at all, no hunger. I didn’t even think about food anymore. I just enjoyed the movie with my SO and Charlie. Usually after dinner I was already overthinking about my next meal that was obviously hours away in the morning as no food after 6 PM and I definitely want something as breakfast is so far away, and besides, I try to postpone breakfast anyway as much as possible because intermittent fasting 16 hours +, which made me especially cranky and created countless of mornings with fights and tears with my SO. But now... no cravings and hunger for the entire night. Today morning I woke up with stomach still full from last night. I did not think about foo. Few hours later I bought some oatmeal, carrots, and hummus – and not because it is super healthy, and I am not allowed to eat anything else. No. I actually had a massive craving for carrots and hummus and oatmeal. For lunch, we decided to take some local hand-made burgers. I ordered vegan burger, but as a naked version without buns. Once again, not because empty forbidden bread calorie, but because I actually wanted that hearty vegan patty to sit on a pile of fresh leafy greens, peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers. My stomach was still quite full of carrot snacks and past dew days’ fast food. I had no inner battle about this with craving vs forbidden food. Nope, I actually did not want any bread or bun.

That was around 3 PM. And hours later I am still full. Back then I had a sever fear over next meal or even a desperate need for additional snack (a forbidden chocolate, ice cream or something similar), but nooo, forbidden, which made the craving and fear even worse.

I have not thought about food today anymore, except now that I write this.

I have gained weight, yes, and it scares me to the core, and I confessed this few days ago to my SO. He looked at me with surprised eyes and said that to be honest, he has not even noticed I have gained, he only realizes this when I have days with severe low self-esteem and when I try to hide my naked body. I think the gain is around 5-6 kg (over 10 pounds), which is not even that big of a deal. Of course, I see and know I have gained, because my clothes now fit kind of perfectly, some rare pieces are a bit tight (I’m in XS-S size, 4-6, and clothes used to be kind of baggy even. Girl, do you need more proof that you are NOT FAT?), my legs are not super-tight sticks with a thigh cap and my collar bones do not press out. I have now extra inches on my body and probably this is the most difficult thing to accept. Recently, I saw over years that the first weight number of 5 has turned into 6 (in kg), over night, which means it was probably water weight from weekend of drinking and salty foods, so this means the actual one is still few kg lower, but the fear is still very real and at that moment I realized that I am tired of crying over a pair of numbers. I am so done. On this day, I asked my partner to hide the scale so I would not now where it is. I went for my morning run and when I came back, I saw him grinning and the scale had disappeared.

On Saturday we went to a birthday party. There was a hot tab with out-doors transportable sauna. Everyone was wild from happiness, except me. I had my bikini with me but for few days already I had stressed out that I will not join the tub, I will not expose my fat body like that. But my friend suggested me to break down the stubbornness, overcome my fears and just do it. No one will judge me, nobody notices, nobody even cares. All those fears are demons in my head. At the party I was sure that I will not go. But then, at some point, I gave myself a mental kick on the butt and went for it. And I am not sorry. I had a blast! Didn’t seem like anyone was giving me looks from head to toes and judged me with their eyes ‘god she is fat!’

This week has been tough, but I now have so many small wins in my bag and overcoming several problems - something I thought I can never do. My motivation has skyrocketed. I could never believe that there might be a time where I am not thinking about food so obsessively. Of course, I know that this is just the beginning of my healing and a long way is to go. I do believe it takes months to amend the damage done in over 10 years.

One of my first fears when reading the book was: What if I eat myself to the absurd size of 400 lbs. seen in those scary reality shows. And my brain gave me the logical answer right away: those 400pound people are also mentally sick, obsessive over food. They have eaten themselves to the slaves of food from very early stage of their lives, being influenced by family, social environment and whatnot, but I am only in my early thirties and 80% of my life I have eaten well-balanced foods and been in the normal weight range, some years I struggled with slight overweight due to puberty and stress from massive changes in life, but this sorted itself out naturally as I got rid of the puberty hormones and stress, weight fluctuated minimally, until I hurled myself head first to the world of diets and eating disorders,

So, most definitely I cannot eat myself to a 400 lbs., it is not physically possible. Perhaps the most real case scenario would be me gaining to 65 kg +, which is coming close to small obesity, but even this is not highly possible as I see that when eating normally, I cannot fit that much food in me and when my metabolism actually heals, the weight should stabilize out and probably even go down a bit. That would actually be a dream: that it will stop going up AND DOWN. I really  want that mental and physical stability back.

I miss a normal life. I am in a seriously perfect relationship which has been really close on the edge of abyss because of my sickly behavior. I have gambled with so many good things in my life and almost lost it all. Enough, seriously. I have

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #366

“you can’t take me from me”

If you’re a girl, have you ever had the urge shave your hair? No. Do you live by a forest? Not anymore. :( How old are your parents? Late 50s. What do you prefer: Small cars, hybrids, trucks or SUVs? Uh, I guess normal ones? Like the ones with four doors and not that horribly low to the ground. What’s the scariest book you’ve ever read? I've never read a book that was scary to me. Do your parents drink? Dad doesn't anymore, and Mom very rarely does, usually just for special occasions. Does downloading music without paying make you feel guilty? Yes, so idk why I still do it. .-. Do you have any pet fish? Nah. What’s your favorite seafood to eat? I only like shrimp. Does your house have air conditioning? Yes. Name the creepiest horror movie character for you: Ghostface, ever since I was a kid. I was horrified of him, and I still think his design is mega creepy. How many college degrees do you want? I wanted to get at most a Bachelor's (I never saw reason to go higher in the fields I was interested in, except for my brief wildlife biologist aspiration), but now I know I'm not getting any degrees. Do you like animals? I love animals. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes. What do you wear to sleep? Pj pants and a tank top. How many keys do you carry with you? One. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah. Sometimes Dad and I would go to hockey games together. I don't really care for sports, hockey included, but it was still something we bonded over since I was normally in the living room on the laptop while he was watching it. Which do you value more, intellect or work ethic? Work ethic. Both are important, but I'd rather have a dedicated, worthy employee versus a lazy one that just happens to have brains. Have you ever been covered in mud? Yes, as a kid. Ever been to a cabin on a mountain? No, but omG I fucking wish. Ever lost your voice? Yes. Do you take your time when making an important decision? I take way too much time because I obsess over doing the right thing. Are you a cautious person? Very. Do you chew gum? Sometimes. What makeup product do you never use? A lot, really. Bronzer is literally never, I haven't touched blush in forever, and the same goes for foundation. Have you ever been offered drugs on the street? No. Have you ever seen a jellyfish? Only at aquariums. Do you ever put bread in your soup? UGH, NO. Bread should NOT be soggy. Do you want some soup? No, I don't even really like soup. Is there anything in the USB key slots in your computer/laptop? Yeah, the sensor thing for my wireless mouse. Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? I don't believe so; I'd certainly feel it and wake up. Have you ever done that to someone else? Pretty sure no. Is there any TV show you watch religiously? No. Do you like the window seat or aisle seat on an airplane? WINDOW. I hate the aisle seat, mainly because I get dizzy when I can't see outside for some reason? I really don't know how that works, but when I sit at the window and can see what the plane is doing, I don't get dizzy. I also really want to just stare outside as I listen to my iPod. Has anyone ever really insulted you? Yes. Do you ever make banana sandwiches? I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich rarely. What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? Probably Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. Phil went HARD, y'all. Did your parents teach you how to cook/bake when you were growing up? There were rare occasions where I helped cook, but I never really learned. If you could own any three fictional objects from any book/movie/show, what would you choose? (does not have to all be from the same book/movie/show) Ohhh, interesting. I'm going to include games in this, because that's what I'm most informed in. ... And I'm still blanking. OH! Definitely a Dreamvisitor from Wings of Fire, as I think it'd be pretty cool or even useful to see into other's dreams and even communicate. The Obsidian Mirror from the same series would also be pretty cool, but also seems somewhat immoral to me, I guess, to be able to spy on others. I mean it could be useful in some cases, but still. I somehow can't think of a third one, even after expanding my options to games. A lot of game objects are just too specific to their fantasy universe and not helpful in real life. What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve worked somewhere? Not even two hours lmaoooo. Have you ever negotiated a pay raise? No. Have you ever been a victim of identity theft? No. Do you know anyone who’s had their kids taken by Child Protective Services? No. What is your favorite smell/scent? Cinnamon rolls. How long can you run without stopping? I honestly don't think I *could* run without my knees immediately being like "um excuse the fuck out of you" and crumpling. What age do you want to live to? I know this varies from person to person, so I can't say an exact age, but I do. NOT. Want to live to where I'm a liability/require other people to take care of me, like give me a bath and stuff. No. Fuck-ing. Thank you. If you had a time machine, when would you go to? I'd honestly want a glimpse into my future, just to see how I'll be. At the same time though, I feel like knowing would suck if I saw something bad instead of a good life. Like, I'd possibly be suicidal again if it's just crap. I feel like if I was legitimately offered this, I would say no. Have you ever been infatuated with someone and you didn’t even know why? No. I think. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No. Is your more photogenic side your left or right? Well, because of how my hair is positioned, my left side. My hair is parted very far to the left, so the right side of my face is sorta cut diagonally by hair. Do you currently owe money to anyone? No. If you were ever to be on the news, what would you want it to be for? Something heroic, I guess. What’s the fastest you’ve ever driven? Accidentally, probably up to like 80 on the highway. Have you ever donated blood? Have you ever done a blood test? I have to both. Have you been inside of a burning building? What happened? Z O I N K S no. Do you believe in astrology/horoscopes? Nope. Have you ever dined alone at a restaurant? No. Have you been in a car accident? What happened? Yes. Some idiot was carrying wood in the back of his truck, and it wasn't secured whatsoever. He hit a bumpy spot, and some of the wood dropped to the road, and he began to swerve out of control. Nailed the side and bumper of my mom's car. Mom drove into a ditch, but in some manner to avoid us flipping over, which judging from the impact point, cops theorized was "supposed" to happen. Nowadays I am terrified to ride or drive behind trucks carrying anything in the back. Have you ever lived alone? No. Have you ever been stung by a bee? Once, on my leg. Have you ever bought stuff at a thrift store? Yeah, I love thrift shops. What was your very first email address? The one I still use now, so I won't share it. It fits me well, but I still hate sharing it, haha. It's just not very "adult-ish." How often do you take naps? Just about every day. Have you ever won a game of pool? Idr. Have you ever seen a tornado in real life? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Have you been in a long-distance relationship? Yes. Have you swam in the ocean? Yeah, I love it. Have you gone ziplining? No, but it'd be cool! Have you been rock climbing? No, just those mock walls at school field days and stuff. Have you hitchhiked? No. Have you had stitches? Where? My chin and then at the very base of my spine. Have you ridden in a taxi? What about an Uber/Lyft? None of those. Have you ridden on a horse? Not legit, but at childhood festivals where there are some horses that walk in a circle... the poor things. I would LOVE to ride a non-restrained, tame horse. Ugh, I wish I could have a horse in general. Their ability to bond with humans is magical. I'll never actually have one, though. I could nooot do all the care they require, and I don't plan on living somewhere where having a horse is appropriate. Have you taken part in a protest? What for? No, just boycotting. Have you ever signed a petition? Yes. I can't remember all of them. Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? No. Have you ever given someone else a haircut? No. What is the longest your hair has been? Just past the small of my back. Have you ever been stranded because your car broke down? No. Thank god for phones, lol. Have you performed on stage? What did you do? Yes, for school band concerts as well as dance recitals. Have you ever used a tanning bed? What about tanning spray? No. How do you prefer to celebrate your birthday? Just quiet and chill with my family, but still give me alone time, please. Who is the best cook that you know? /shrug Do you believe in Bigfoot? What about the Loch Ness Monster? The Loch Ness Monster I don't, but I find surviving sasquatches very possible. There's just too many reported sightings to be totally ignored. I'm not 100% on them still being around, though. I feel like we would've caught one by now. Do your friends tend to be male or female? Female. If you could change anything about human nature, what would it be? Our proclivity to violence when angered. Have you ever fainted? Yes. What skills would you like to learn? Cooking, how to handle money in various contexts, social skills... There's a lot of things. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Meerkats, for sure. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I don’t. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? No. Are there any flowers planted outside your house? No. Do you have a favourite outfit that you like to wear for nights out? I don't have "nights out." When you have a soft drink, do you prefer it in a bottle or can? I like cans because the metal helps it stay cold. Who was the last person to embarrass you? What did they do? I don't know. When you’re upset, do you tend to comfort eat or lose your appetite? I am a BAD comfort eater. Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? Does/did that person go to the same school as you? My online friend Sammy. No. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? No. When was the last time you used a public toilet? Ummm I think for my birthday lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Jason has brown eyes. Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? That '70s Show and especially Supernatural.

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, April 12

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Mark Harmon quitting NCIS

Page 2: Stars Who Rock Around the Clock -- they believe in the healing power of crystals -- Naomi Campbell, Shirley MacLaine, Adele, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, Uma Thurman

Page 3: Debra Messing, Goldie Hawn and Kate Hudson, Megan Fox, Katy Perry, Gisele Bundchen

Page 4: Eddie Murphy's roles and costumes

Page 6: George Clooney is turning 60 in May, and he says being an older dad to toddlers has its benefits -- his son isn't ever going to feel competitive with him and he'll be gumming his bread by the time he'd feel competitive with him, jokes the Oscar-winning actor, whose twins Ella and Alexander turn 4 in June -- George is well aware that growing up with two highly accomplished parents (his wife Amal Clooney is a successful human rights lawyer) can put a lot of pressure on a kid and that's why the couple is already guiding Ella and Alexander with strong values and kind hearts because George says it's their job to make sure that they care about people and that they challenge people in power and look out for people who don't have power and those are the things he was raised with -- the known prankster is also passing the practical joke tradition down to the next generation and he taught Alexander to take a piece of banana, chew it up and then spit it into a napkin, then stand next to him mom, pretend to blow his nose into it and look down until Mama looks at it, then eat it

Page 7: Partridge Family star Shirley Jones turned 87, and she's brimming over with gratitude for her wonderful life that's been chock-full of extraordinary experiences -- she says you have to have a good time and enjoy life to the fullest and before you know it you'll be 87 -- Shirley has three sons (her stepson David Cassidy died in 2017) and 13 grandchildren

Page 8: Take your etiquette test for tea with Queen Elizabeth

Page 9: Brain foods that may help prevent dementia

* Study says new drug slows Alzheimer's

Page 10: Jennifer Garner recently opened up about her real feelings on her body -- she's 48 and single and has three children with ex-husband Ben Affleck: daughters Violet and Seraphina and son Samuel -- in a recent interview, she admitted that her body has changed a lot since having three kids and she doesn't mind one little bit, even though she was hurt when a friend hinted she may be expecting again, saying there are some women whose bodies just, no matter how many babies they have, they bounce right back to that slim-hipped, no stomach and she has so many girlfriends who have that physique and she's so happy for them, but she's not one of them and she can work really hard and she can be really fit and she will still look like a woman who's had three babies and she always will

Page 11: 6 stomach symptoms you should never ignore -- catch problems before the become deadly

Page 12: After more than two decades, James Brolin says he's discovered the way to keep his marriage to Barbra Streisand going strong: negotiation -- it's taken two marriages and 22 years for him to figure it out and he and his wife have gotten so close being locked down together -- his mother was the sweetest person so he never really learned to negotiate with women but now he knows if you sit down and talk about a situation, you can work it out

Page 14: Dear Tony, America's Top Psychic Healer -- don't make snap judgments; you may lose the perfect mate -- Tony predicts a very hot summer coming and a lot more street crime

Page 15: Folks getting their COVID-19 vaccinations at the Berkshire Community College in Massachusetts got a shocking treat: a mini-concert from world-famous cellist Yo-Yo Ma -- while waiting out his 15-minute observation period, the musician sat down to play a socially distant symphony for his fellow inoculees

Page 16: Duchess Kate is never seen without a purse, but what exactly does she keep inside it? There's quite a history between royal women and their handbags: Princess Diana used her clutch bag to cover her cleavage from prying photographers, Queen Elizabeth moves her handbag from one arm to the other to signal to her staff when she's bored of chatting with someone, and Kate carries her bag in her left hand so she can keep her right hand free to greet and shake hands with guests and she holds her bag in front of her when shaking hands might be awkward -- according to royal protocol pre-pandemic, Kate must extend her hand first for another person to shake hands with her, so if she prefers to just smile instead of touching other folks, she uses her clutch to do that -- author Marcia Moody who wrote Kate: A Biography, says the duchess always carries four must-have items: in her small clutch, she carries a compact mirror, a handkerchief, blotting paper and lip balm and every now and then, if she's going to attend a tennis match, for example, Kate will carry a pair of sunglasses -- unlike Queen Elizabeth, whose purses come from a company called Launer, the duchess favors different brands, but mostly a company called Mulberry -- nowadays with three small children, the mom gravitates toward midsize bags with handles because she's got to take more items with her like a handy bunch of tissues, good for wiping little noses and faces, and also takes her camera along

Page 18: William Shatner confesses that when he starred in Star Trek during the mid-60s, he had no idea it would become a worldwide phenomenon still popular today -- Shatner, who turned 90 in March, says it's unimaginable and it's all beyond anybody's imagination or ability to repeat and the greatest thing about being the captain of the Enterprise for three years was his relationship with the cast and the roles were written so well

Page 19: Brandy is a one-in-a million cat because those are the odds she'd ever be found again after she went missing 15 years ago -- when Charles got the phone call from a California animal shelter that his missing pet has been found, he could scarcely believe his ears and the Los Angeles man was skeptical and thought it must be a mistake but he had made sure the two-month-old kitten had a microchip and sure enough, the malnourished stray they found was his Brandy -- Charles did break down and cry because he thought about all of the years he lost from her and when he picked her up, she started to purr and it was very emotional

Page 20: Mark Harmon finally lured wife Pam Dawber out of retirement to star alongside him on NCIS, but the pairing will be short-lived because he's leaving the show after 18 hit seasons -- the 69-year-old star is finally fed up with the backbreaking hours, endless rehearsals, and feuds with cast and crew, and plans to ride off into the sunset with Pam and retire to the couple's Montana Ranch -- Mark's contract is up after season 18, and he's agonized over whether to sign a new one and he's being offered the moon and the stars to come back for a few more seasons, but he says his heart just isn't in it and Mark has faced problems on the set over the past few years and he feels his age, he just doesn't need the aggravation anymore -- NCIS recently teased a possible departure of his character Leroy Gibbs when the special agent commander was suspended for assaulting and nearly killing a suspect but despite that, Harmon insists Gibbs not be killed off so he can leave the door open for a possible return

Page 22: Legendary actor Michael Caine just turned 88 and he's still going strong, starring in an upcoming comedy Best Sellers and says he knows he's old but he doesn't feel old, not in his head, where it matters

Page 24: They say money doesn't buy happiness, but what do people spend their money on that can buy happiness? You don't need millions of dollars to afford the things that happy people buy to stay that way and studies show that anything over $75,000 a year in income is gravy, which means yachts, jewels, second homes and art collections are not at all required -- the best thing to drop your cash on is experiences and doing is better than having and in other words, an object you own will never give you the consistent pleasure of an experience that creates good memories that live on forever -- also the best experiences are the ones that involve other people like having a picnic with family, going rafting with pals, or even just walking and talking with an exercise buddy

Page 25: Freshen Your Fridge -- make a clean start with this 5-step plan

Page 26: Tony's Mystic World -- may the force be with you -- the life force can be drained out of you by fear or worry

Page 28: Sensational Snaps From Around the World -- photo contest captures amazing sights

Page 31: When to trash it -- the useful lifespan of refrigerated food

Page 32: It's been 40 years since Marilu Henner starred on the hit sitcom Taxi, but the great memories and wonderful co-stars are always on her mind because she's still pals with them -- they always stayed in touch with each other and never lost touch and do a Taxi Zoom every two months and they're all very current with each other and they have a text chain as well and they're in contact every week -- Marilu is close with cast members Tony Danza, Judd Hirsch, Danny DeVito, Christopher Lloyd and Carol Kane

Page 33: Garth Brooks is overjoyed wife Trisha Yearwood has finally bounced back from her bout with COVID-19 -- she seems to be 100 percent, according to Garth, and at the end there during fatigue she got real impatient, really kind of mean and sassy and he thought well, she's back to herself -- after announcing in February that Trisha had the coronavirus and Garth said he had tested negative

Page 40: The grass is always greener when you use these simple gardening tips

* Avoid cat-astrophe -- the right way to add a stray

Page 42: 10 things you never knew about Glenn Close -- the wildly successful actress turned 74 in March

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Sylvester Stallone and wife Jennifer Flavin leave a Florida hotel (picture), Jane Seymour is still looking on the bright side even as the world continues to weather the pandemic, one year after the death of Kenny Rogers his family thanked fans as they honored his life, Sharon Stone is dishing dirt about her Hollywood past in her recently released memoir like one moviemaker who told her to have sex with a male co-star to improve their on-screen chemistry, 28-year-old twins Lady Amelia and Lady Eliza Spencer who are the nieces of Princess Diana recently stepped out in South Africa as bridesmaids for fellow high society girl Leila Osato, director Christopher Columbus pooh-poohed internet rumors about the existence of an NC-17 cut of Mrs. Doubtfire but he did confirm there's an unreleased R-rated version

Page 45: Good Morning America co-host Cecilia Vega mugs it up for the camera on the morning show (picture), Gretta Monahan gets out of a car (picture), longtime GMA veteran Robin Roberts displays her ever-present sunny side on the set (picture), the Hollywood Hills home of Johnny Depp recently had some uninvited guests when a man was spotted loitering by the property's pool but ran off after being confronted by a neighbor and not much later Johnny's security team called police about another unwanted visitor who had taken a shower and helped himself to the actor's booze, Elsa Pataky has been married to Chris Hemsworth for 10 years and says patience and communication and understanding are what help their relationship be successful

Page 46: A Texas man has helped thousands of people by donating his blood platelets a staggering 962 times over the past 37 years

Page 47: Celebrity Weddings Gone Wrong -- Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively, Cameron Diaz and Benji Madden, Nicky Hilton and James Rothschild, Chrissy Teigen and John Legend, Jessica Simpson and Eric Johnson, Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar, Katherine Heigl and Josh Kelley

[captainamericasbeard]

I Owe You One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Just fluff. Fluff and too much food. 

Summary: Bucky steals your food and your heart in the process. Awwwwe.

A/N: This is my entry for @barnesrogersvstheworld ‘s writing challenge. My prompt was “I owe you one.” “You owe me three. At least” It’s in bold. I had a ton of fun writing it and I hope you love it. Sorry if I make your tummy rumble with all the delicious food references. Please like, comment, and reblog. I like the validation. 

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Bucky was always taking your food. You’d lost count of the number of times you’d walked into the kitchen and found him hunched over a meal you’d whipped up for yourself. Perfectly prepared BLTs gone in a few bites. Four bowls of spaghetti bolognese in the time it took you to take a shower. A whole pan of chorizo macaroni and cheese. You didn’t even get a bite. There was no limit to what he could eat and he seemed to have very little guilt about the whole thing. You’d walk back into the kitchen and find him hunched over your plate, a fleeting look of guilt in his eyes and he’d mumble around his mouth full of food, “I’ll owe you one.” He was deeply in your debt at this point.

You two were a match made in culinary heaven. You’re an excellent cook and he’s an indecent eater. He devours his food. He absolutely stuffs his face. He moans over your cooking in a way that makes you blush. He practically sings your praises while he eats and he would lick the plate if you’d let him. You don’t really mind. It makes you happy to make him happy and his sweet words makes your stomach somersault.

But lately you’ve taken to eating in strange places in an attempt to hide from him. A bowl of lemon chicken pasta on the floor of the server room. A plate of garlic and chili prawns with homemade crusty bread at the desk of a disused office. You even once considered taking your chicken schnitzel sandwich up into the vents but then you’d have to share with Clint. It wouldn’t have mattered, Bucky could find you anywhere. Just when you thought you’d found the perfect spot he’d whip open the door and shout “Aha!” He’d look pleadingly between your eyes and your plate of food with such longing until you handed over your meal resignedly. You’d never be able to resist that look.

_______________________________________________________________________

One day you were sitting at the table over a simple breakfast of coffee and banana bread slathered with ricotta cheese, honey, and cinnamon. Bucky was on his third slice and you realized this was the only slice you’d be getting. You got up to refill your coffee and Bucky asked “What’s something you love to eat that you can’t make?” You thought for a moment.

“Phở.”

“Phở?”

“Yeah, phở.”

“What the hell is phở?”

���It’s a Vietnamese soup. It’s got noddles and meat and herbs. It’s spicy and sweet and amazing. I’d be out of my depth trying to make it myself. And its so cheap you might as well just go to a restaurant for it.” Your eyes took on a dreamy far away look as you thought about tender pieces of sweet chicken floating in a broth that took two days to make.

“Let’s go. Let’s go get phở,” Bucky says snapping you out of your reverie.

“Yeah? You’d be up for trying it?” You ask.

“Yeah! I think its cool that you can get food from just about anywhere now. I never would have got a chance to try Vietnamese chicken noodle soup back in Brooklyn. Let’s go. Can we go now?” He starts getting up from his chair, his mouth watering at the dish you’ve described.

“Bucky, we're literally eating breakfast right now,” you roll your eyes at him, “can we at least wait until lunch?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he sits back down and grabs his fourth slice of banana bread.  

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky hangs out with you in the kitchen while you spend some time cleaning bowls and loaf trays. You wipe down all the surfaces and cleaned out the fridge from countless containers of Chinese leftovers. “Damnit Clint,” you mutter as you fill up the trashcan. You whip up a batch of chocolate and caramel chip brownies and Bucky doesn’t even wait for them to cool before he devours half the tray and finishes the milk. He has started pacing at this point, ready to go. Finally you can’t handle his anxious energy any longer.

“Ok, ok, I’ll go get my jacket.” Bucky whoops and does a little dance as he rushes off to his room to grab his own jacket. You go to your room and while grabbing your jacket you decide you need to pull a brush through your hair and wash the flour off of your face. The few extra minutes you spend trying to look presentable has Bucky pounding at your door.

“What’s taking so long, Doll!?” The nickname puts a smile on your face.

“Sorry, just trying to look decent,” you say as you step out of your room and pull the door closed behind you. “You always look perfect, Doll. Don’t stress about it.” You dip your head down to hide your blushing under the pretense of zipping up your leather jacket. You look back up at Bucky to find him watching you intently. “Ready?” He asks with a smile playing on his lips.

“Ready,” you smile back.

It’s a perfect autumn day in New York City. The air is crisp and you both bury your hands in your jackets as you stroll down the sidewalk. There’s not much conversation happening but you don’t mind. Bucky’s presence makes you feel calm and collected. You always enjoy being around him and today was no different. Your favorite phở place was only a ten minute walk and you were there before you knew it.

The restaurant is a hole-in-the wall place, just as it should be. It was appropriately named Phở Noodles and as you opened the door you were greeted by the familiar tinkling of a bell and the soft brown eyes of the owner.

“Seat for two?” She asks with her thick accent, holding up two fingers to make herself clear. Her eyes twinkle mischievously. She’s used to you coming in by yourself.

“Yes please,” you respond with a wide smile. She seats you and Bucky next to the window and brings your waters. Bucky takes off his jacket as he sits and you watch him take in the decor, the kitchen in the back, and most importantly the bowls of phở at your neighbor’s table. He looks at you with childlike excitement in his eyes and you have to giggle at him. Your waitress comes over with a sweet smile and waits patiently for your order. You don’t even glance at the menu as you order two chicken phở, two Thai teas, and a share plate of egg rolls. The waitress nods and smiles and takes your menus as she walks back to the kitchen. You fold your hands on the table and turn back to Bucky who had watched the entire transaction with interest.

“So you come here a lot,” he asks, smirking.

“Yeah I guess. Three or four times a month. It’s comforting after a hard mission or a long day to just let someone else cook for dinner for once.”

“I think I owe you an apology,” Bucky says sheepishly and you raise your eyebrow. “I’m sorry I always steal your food.”

“Yeah, you do seem to have singled me out.”

“I can’t help it! You're just an amazing cook! I can always tell when its you in there and my mouth just starts watering and I just have to have some.” He looks at you, eyes pleading forgiveness.

“You know, you could just ask. I’d be happy to double the recipe so there’s enough for both of us. Where do you put it all anyways? You don’t look like you eat as much as you do.”

Bucky turns lightly pink at the implied compliment. “Hyperactive metabolism. Its a side affect of the serum. My metabolism runs about four times faster than yours. Steve’s is even worse. You see how many eggs he goes through.” You both laugh, Steve is famous for his daily dozen egg omelette.

“Gotcha. That makes sense. But why do you have such an indecent relationship with your meals.”

“Real answer or fake answer,” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“Real answer of course.”

“All the time I was with Hydra I never ate any real food. They kept me alive through IVs. I think I’m just making up for all the meals I missed” He was casual about it but you could tell it hurt him to relive any part of his time with Hydra. Meanwhile your heart had dropped out of your chest. You decided then and there you would never withhold food from Bucky Barnes ever again.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s ok. You don’t have to say anything.” He reaches his hand across the glass top table and gently holds yours. He was the one reliving the horrors of his past and here he was comforting you. Your brain goes fuzzy at the touch but luckily your food arrives before you can make a fool out of yourself.

Two huge, steaming bowls of broth, chicken, and rice noodles are placed in front of you. Next comes the plate with all the traditional toppings- mint and scallions, lime and sprouts, and more. Finally down comes your teas and the egg rolls with their light sauce full of shredded carrots. You teach Bucky how to add the toppings, which sauces were savory and which were spicy. You show him how to hold the chopsticks and the spoon for scooping up the broth. You both dig in and Bucky does not hold back his praises for his dish. He moans at the first bite. He loves each element of the soup and how they come together in perfect harmony. He slurps his broth oblivious to the glances of the other patrons. Before you’re halfway through your own bowl, Bucky is ordering his second.

“So you like it,” you comment between bites. Bucky nods his reply as he prepares and dives into his second bowl. Finally you’re too full to eat another bite so you slide your bowl over to Bucky as he’s finishing his. He doesn’t skip a beat as he pulls your bowl closer and keeps eating. You suppress a giggle and watch him enjoy one of your favourite things. Your heart swells knowing you’ve brought him the joy of a new discovery. Bucky finishes and sighs contentedly, his hands on his stomach and a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he says seriously, “that’s pretty damn good. Thanks Y/N.”

“Anytime Buck.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You walk back to the tower in contented silence. Once inside you make a quick decision. “Come with me,” you say as you head towards your room. You open the door and move across the room to your closet. You stand on your tiptoes reaching into the top shelf while Bucky watches curiously from the foot of your bed. You pull out a decorative box wrapped in plastic wrap from underneath a pile of sweaters. “Come sit down,” you say as you begin to peel layers of plastic off of the box. “I’ve got dessert.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Y/L/N,” Bucky says as he sinks to the floor and inspects the contents of the box.

“Yeah sorry. It won’t happen again I promise,” you glance at him from the corner of your eye and he’s looking at you with a dopey smile on his face. “They’re my grandma’s cookies. She makes them every year and sends me a box. I tend to hoard them. They’re chocolate peanut butter pinwheels.” Bucky’s eyes light up as he starts to reach into the box. Quickly he clenches his fist and pulls back.

“Sorry. May I have some?” He asks looking down at you with the sweetest expression on his face.

“Of course, Buck,” you answer softly and you both dig into the box.

“Too bad we’re out of milk,” Bucky comments around a mouth full of cookie.

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky laughs and goes in for what might be his fourth cookie. Together you polish off the box in one sitting, Bucky eating the lion’s share of the precious treat. After the last crumb has been picked off of the inside of the box you both sigh contentedly.

“Thanks for sharing, Y/N, I know they were pretty special. I owe you one, for sure.”

“For that you owe me three. At least.” You burst out laughing and Bucky joins. You’ve never felt so contented, sitting on the floor of your closet laughing with the man who has managed to capture your heart.

_______________________________________________________________________

It’s a week after the phở and it’s managed to be a particularly terrible day. You decide there’s no way you’re cooking and opt to order out Chinese instead. You settle on your favorite garlic and ginger chicken with rice and a few egg rolls. Hanging up the phone you move to your room for a quick shower and to change into some sweats and an old t-shirt. All you can think about is the newest episode of Brooklyn 99 and your dinner on it’s way to you. You open the door to your room and immediately smell trouble. Your food has arrived. You rush to the kitchen to see Bucky hunkered over a container of Chinese food. YOUR Chinese food. The delivery guy must have come while you were in the shower. You stomped your foot and threw your hands onto your hips. Your eyes were flashing in anger.

“James Buchanan Barnes. What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Bucky’s head snaps up. His body freezes with chopsticks in one hand and the box in the other. He gulped down his bite and looked so damn guilty you immediately softened your stance, dropping your hands down to your sides.

“Shit, Doll, I’m so sorry. I thought it was Clint’s! Can I owe you one?” He looked truly remorseful and your heart just fell apart.

“No, Bucky, you cannot owe me one. You owe me about a million. And you know what, I’m cashing in now.” You step towards him with your heart pounding out of your chest. You knew he could hear it but you didn’t care. You strode up to him and closed the gap between your bodies. You paused inches away from his face, giving him a chance to say something or push you away. He did nothing but swallow hard as his eyes flew from your bright, blazing eyes to your soft lips and back again. Before you could think about it you bring your lips to his in a tender kiss. He was frozen for a moment, food still in hand, but his lips quickly melt into yours. He throws the food onto the counter you have him pushed up against and wraps his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss. You rest your hands lightly on his chest for a moment before you move them up to tangle your fingers in his hair. He moans into your mouth like he did with that bowl of phở and you couldn’t help but smile. He pulls you closer to him as your passions grow and he tasted like garlic and ginger, savory and sweet all at once. You finally brake away to breath, locking eyes with each other.

“I'm glad one of us finally had the courage to do that,” Bucky whispers, his voice low and husky. “So I’m not in trouble for eating your dinner?” He smiles down at you with a devilish grin.

“You keep kissing me like that and you can steal all the food you want.” Your lips reconnect and you realized you were both hungry in a way food could never satisfy.

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 15

itHKids Content Warning: This chapter discusses suicide and depression as well as alluding to a troubled family life. I don’t go into too much detail but if you are easily upset or can be triggered by mentions of negative mental health, please be wary and make sure to put yourself first. It would make me really distressed to think that I have triggered anyone or caused negative memories or emotions to resurface so please continue at your own risk. If there is anything you need to discuss, feel free to DM me and I’ll try to respond as quickly as I can. Contacts for mental health services will be included at the end of this chapter.

Adrienette ~ Tom Dupain x Sabine Cheng ~ The wonderful Dupain-Cheng Family ~ Gabriel Agreste x being a terrible father

“You have a boyfriend, Marinette?” Tom’s moustache shook slightly as he looked at his only child with wide, surprised eyes. Juxtaposing her husband’s almost betrayed surprise, Sabine smiled broadly at Marinette and placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s arm.

“What is his name?” Marinette tried to hide behind her fringe to avoid the question, the thick papered letter held in her now shaking hands. She wasn’t embarrassed to be with Adrien but she really didn’t want her Dad to go all papa-bear like he had when Chat Noir had turned down Mari’s ‘affections’. Chat Noir returned those affections now, of course, but that didn’t make Mari any less worried of how far her Dad would go to protect her against anyone breaking her heart.

“A-Adrien,” Sabine tilted her head slightly, trying to conjure up a face to put to the name. A spark lit in the small woman’s eyes as she realised who Marinette was talking about.

“Adrien Agreste?” Crossing the room of the bakery to a small end table beside two comfortable felt chairs, Sabine rifled through a small stack of magazines and pulled out one with Adrien on the front, dressed in his father’s designs from two seasons ago. “This boy is your boyfriend?”

Marinette nodded sheepishly and felt a prickle down the back of her neck. Tom’s demeanor had changed, he’d almost deflated against the cabinet as the corners of his lips curved down in a saddened frown.

“Papa, what’s wrong?” Walking to her father, Mari placed a gentle hand on his large forearm and met his eyes with sincere worry. She knew what was wrong but after having lived with Tom Dupain for nearly 18 years, Marinette knew that her father didn’t like to keep his emotions to himself. There had been a time, once, before Marinette was born, when Tom had keep his emotions bottled up and it had driven him to an edge he almost didn’t return from but some time spent with several different counsellors, repairing his relationship with his father and sister, and telling Sabine the truth of what was making him lash out had made him into the caring, open man he was today. Tom was an advocate for men speaking up about their emotions and accepting that they had them, Marinette and Sabine couldn’t be more proud of him in that respect because Sabine had grown up surrounded by very cagey men and Mari had seen how lack of affection between boys had negatively affected her male friends. 

“You’re growing up, Marinette, and I’m just a bit sad that you are,” There was a small hesitation before he spoke, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. Normally Tom spoke his mind and spoke from the heart so the ever so slight pause before he spoke told Marinette and Sabine that there was something more than just sadness over her growth.

“I know that’s not everything, Papa,” Mari spoke gently, squeezing her father’s arm slightly so he knew that she was there and was going to be fine with anything she had to say.

“You are too smart for your own good,” He laughed slightly, a strain in the normally whole sound. “I don’t want this boy to hurt you and I’m worried that he will.”

“Why are you worried that he will hurt me, Papa?” Sabine walked to the door of the bakery and flicked the open sign to closed, adjusting the small timer on the door to say that they’d be open again in about an hour. Pulling the shutter down to keep some privacy for her husband and daughter, Sabine gave a small smile of encouragement to Tom. There was nothing for him to worry about, Marinette loved her father for who he was and knew of his past, he didn’t have to treat her any differently when they spoke about her relationship than he would when they spoke normally.

Tom sighed heavily and moved his arm so he could hold Marinette’s hand in his. “This boy, Adrien, is famous and I’m worried that fame may drive him to do wrong by you. You are a sweet girl, a sensitive girl, and you don’t deserve to have someone treat you carelessly,” He squeezed Mari’s hand gently. “I know that I was very intense when Chat Noir came over after you said you had a crush on him and that intensity came from my worry. I was worried that he wouldn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated and then I became angry that he was turning you down because he was missing out on the wonderful girl that my wife and I had raised with so much love.”

“Oh, Tom,” Hearing her husband’s words, Sabine walked to him, wrapping her small arms around his thick waist and pressing a kiss to his sternum. “You are tai di xiong.”

“Tai di xiong?” Despite over 20 years of marriage, Tom’s understanding of Mandarin still wasn’t the best. 

“A teddy bear,” Marinette had been studying Mandarin with Adrien in their spare time and knew enough to be able to ask her mother, in Mandarin, to help her learn her mother’s native tongue. “She thinks you’re a teddy bear, Papa.”

Sabine nodded vigorously as Marinette rounded the cabinet and hugged her parents, breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread and caramelised sugar that clung to their clothes. 

“We would like to meet him before we go to Alsace, though,” Sabine broke the silence, her words definite. There was no way Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain were letting Marinette go to a big fancy celebration in Alsace without having met her boyfriend first, even if they themselves were going to be at the party.

“Of course you will, Maman and Papa, I can see if you can meet him tomorrow if you’d like?”

“If he has the time, that would be wonderful,” Sabine cut Tom off before he could get his words out, effectively silencing her husband. “What does he like to eat?”

“Um…,” Scrunching her face as she wracked her brain for something easy to make that Adrien enjoyed, Marinette rubbed her lips together slightly. There’s no way her mother and father weren’t going to make something just for Adrien but she knew that her boyfriend wasn’t a huge fan of people going out of their way to do special things for him. He’d led a pampered life and knowing that people had put heaps of effort into even small things made him uncomfortable; he’d tried to give the scarf she’d made him for his birthday several years ago back after he’d found out that she’d made it specially for him because he felt like she deserved the keep something she’d put so much time and love into. It had taken her almost two weeks to convince him to keep it and now he wore it as much as he possibly could. “He likes banana bread?”

“You sound unsure,” Of course Tom had noticed how long it had taken Marinette to think of something. “But we’ll make banana bread anyway.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Mari’s voice was slightly strained as Tom began squeezing his daughter and wife into one last hug, smiling broadly before letting go and escaping back to the kitchen.

“He is a good man, your father,” Sabine wrapped her arms around Marinette, hugging her daughter as the sound of Tom’s baking hum began to rise from the kitchen behind them. “We are lucky to have him.”

“I know, Maman,” Resting her cheek against her much shorter mother’s temple, Mari enjoyed the nurturing presence that came with such an embrace. “I’m glad that he’s still here.”

Pulling back slightly, Sabine rested a rough hand against Marinette’s cheek and smiled sadly up at her daughter. “If he wasn’t here, we wouldn’t have you and you make both of us very happy, Marinette. I know that he still struggles with his depression sometimes, and it can be a very hard thing, but we gave him something to live for, Gongzhu, and I thank the heavens everyday that I wake up with him by my side,”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say. She knew her father’s story and she knew that Sabine had nearly lost him so many years ago but the thought of her cheerful father being so low and so lost that he didn’t feel the need to be alive anymore was jarring. 

“Your name has meaning for him. It has meaning for me too but I chose your name to remind him how far he has come every time he says it,”

“Marinette means ‘of the sea’, it’s derived from the word ‘marine’, right?” Sabine nodded.

“Cheng, the way my family pronounces it means completed, succeeded or finished, though there is a similar pronunciation that means sincere, honest and true that I made sure your father knew about because he is the most sincere, true man I have ever met in my life,” The two women turned toward the open door of the kitchen as Tom walked past it with a jolly whistling tune as he moved baked bread out of the oven and onto a cooling tray. “You are succeeded of the sea because the sea is where I nearly lost him but it is also where he found himself again. Your birth marked a turning point for him, he was finished with the side of his life that had only ever damaged him and was now ready to begin a life with people who will always love him, support him, stay with him. You saved him as much as I did because he wanted to be a better father than the one he’d had.”

Wiping an escaped tear from her cheek, Marinette watched her father bustle back and forth as he worked, her mind drifting to Adrien. Tom and Adrien had common ground in lacking good father figures, so maybe there was more than just Marinette’s love for her to offer him. Maybe she could give him the family he deserved, the family he’d been deprived of because of Gabriel’s selfishness.

“Adrien’s father isn’t much of a father, Maman,” The words were whispered, Marinette tried not to feel guilty for speaking them. “Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.”

If Sabine was surprised, her kind features didn’t show it. “A-Adrien and I are Ladybug and Chat Noir,”

“I know, Gongzhu, I already know,” 

“Y-you know that Adrien and I are...are Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“I have known for a long time,” Sabine spoke gently. “Master Fu was known to me before he was known to you, my great-grandfather was a guardian of a miraculous box which my cousin now guards with his life and it is common for guardians to know each other as well as each other’s families. I met Master Fu when I was barely older than you are now, I knew of what he guarded and what the Ladybug and Cat miraculouses could do if joined. When I suspected that he had given you the Ladybug, I visited him and he confirmed it for me, I did my best to make sure you were able to leave the house when you needed to so you could protect us.”

“You’re incredible, Maman,”

“Thank you, my darling,” A warm smile curved on Sabine’s lips as a faint crimson began to flare on her cheeks, Sabine had never been the best at receiving compliments even if they came from her family and Mari would never know how much those words meant to her in that moment. “Your father does not know though and I don’t recommend that you tell him as it would heighten his worry for you. I am very proud of you, though, my little piao chong, you have gone above and beyond what you needed to, you have protected so many people and saved so many lives.”

Marinette pulled her mother into another hug, holding back tears at the genuine pride she could hear in her mother’s voice.

“Thank you so much,” Hiccuping slightly, Mari squeezed Sabine, who squeezed back. “Thank you so, so, so, so much.”

“You are the light of our lives, Marinette, and there is not a day that goes by that we aren’t proud of the woman you are becoming,”

~~~~~~~~~

Mental health services: Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14 Kids Helpline Australia: 1800 55 1800 Suicide Prevention Lifeline America: 1 800 273 8255 Hopeline America: (800) 422 4673 Samaritans UK: 08457 90 90 90 Hopeline UK:  0800 068 4141 Samaritans ROI: 115 123 Hopeline ROI: 0808 808 8000 Lifeline New Zealand (Auckland): 09 5222 999 Lifeline New Zealand (Everywhere else): 0800 543 354 European Emergency Number: 112 Samaritans Italy: 800 86 00 22 Lifeline South Africa: 0861 322 322 Befrienders International Tokyo: +81 (0) 3 5286 9090 BI Suicide Prevention Centre Osaka: +81 (0) 6 4395 4343 Checkpoint.Org: https://checkpointorg.com/global/

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[cntbtchthevapegod]

Green Apron

 I want it to be with her, non-judgmentally listening to every word she speaks soaking up her joy while I still can. Even if I do most of the work, even if she ridicules my clothes, even if she spends the time telling me to smile when my face is just resting. That is time I want to spend with her, wholeheartedly doing something with her that brings her joy.

A green apron much too large for my tiny 9-year-old body dwarfs me as I stand on the step stool so I can reach the counter. The room is washed in bright LED lights and covered in flour. Green vases and a dog statue, resembling the dog they had in my father's childhood, sit atop the giant white cabinets. My little hands are much too weak to roll out the dough so her’s press mine down and slowly the dough is rolled into a large circle. I cut out circles and she dollops filling into the center of them.

While she’s looking away I dip my finger into the filling. As subtle as I tried to be, she noticed. Closing her eyes, smiling, and letting out the smallest of laughs, she too dipped her finger into the filling then tasted it.

“VT! You did an amazing job with this filling! It is delicious.”

This continued for many years. Going from “This filling is delicious” to, “Aren’t you proud of Ravit, she made almost all of the Hamantaschen.”

This past fall we were making the crepes that the blintzes were going to be wrapped in. In the many years before that day, I would burn or tear many crepes before I started getting them right. We stood at her stove, me taller than her now, no longer needing the step stool. I made crepe after crepe while humming along to the music. Each crepe she made was too thick, ripped or burnt, and very few came out correct. She shook her head and seemed unfazed. Then she ripped the fourth one in a row. “Dammit!” 

“Are you okay Nana? Did you burn yourself?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I just can’t get these right.”

I let out a long breath. “Do you want my help?”

“No.” she responded as she poured more batter into the pan. For so much of her life, she naturally knew when a crepe was done, didn’t even need to think about it. And suddenly her brain had decided, without consulting her, that it was no longer something she needed to remember. Like it had done with so many things, driving, the name of my school, her nephew's age.

She wove my talis for my bat mitzvah and when she presented it to me she said something along the lines of, “When your Ima told me she was having a girl I was ecstatic. Now I was going to have a granddaughter! You are truly the best I could have asked for.” I had never realized that was the reason she wanted us to share baking with each other.

After two sons and a grandson, she finally had me, a girl! Her enthusiasm seeping into everything she taught me. Making me Bake with her since I can remember.  Every year we made blintzes that she refused to take credit for, always saying that they were “VT’s blintzes” whenever someone complimented her on them. 

And every year we’d make hamantaschen that would win the synagogues competition every time. Now I don’t have time for hamantaschen, now there is school, social life, theater, so no award this year. The blintzes were really “VT’s blintzes” this year, for I did all the work. They didn’t taste as good, she hadn’t infused her soul into these ones, she was just too tired. 

The first time we made her famous chocolate chip cookies together, that I can remember, she didn’t even get the recipe out. Pulling sugar, chocolate chips, flour, vanilla, eggs, butter, salt, baking soda, and oats out of various cabinets. I sat on the step stool watching her as she moved throughout the kitchen. Now I can’t even remember the last time she made them, and I have the recipe memorized. It used to be that she could tell me her banana bread recipe off the top of her head. Last week it took her two hours to find the recipe and send it to me. And without her there to guide me, it was nothing compared to the memory of it.

There are times when I lay in bed stomach-churning and bad excuses flying through my head. I wait until the last minute when my mom runs into the room screaming for me to get ready to go. My mind will float off to a distant island of calm thought. And I slowly pull myself from the bed and drag myself to my grandparents’ house, greeted by seven reiterations of “Why are you always so tired?” from my grandma. The reply is always “I don’t know.” never the truth, that thinking about spending time with her is almost as exhausting as actually doing it.

I complain because it’s annoying when she asks me the same question over and over. I get impatient with her and that isn’t fair. I have found excuses to get out of baking with her because she no longer can understand the difference between a compliment and a criticism that has been taken too far. But, oh what I would give to bake with her because the last time I baked with her can’t be me being impatient and angry, begrudgingly doing all the work.

[scandinaviacroatiaengbergs]

Tuesday night and Wednesday! VOLVO! And then on to Norway, home of a-ha . . .

So, on Tuesday evening, we arrived to the Gothenburg Central Station and right across from it was the Clarion Hotel Post, which had basically a snazzy nightclub right outside and something of a British Royal Mail theme. The hotel was once some big municipal building, maybe their central post office, and it was refurbished into a nice hotel.  This was the night of our trip that was paid for by Volvo, and we would be having dinner in their fine-dining restaurant on Volvo’s dollar, or rather kroner.  We got all check in and then went up to our room.  In the room, some of the structural architectural elements were exposed, like a beam, that went diagonally from the bottom right corner of the room to the upper left corner  . . and  of course our resident monkey had to shimmy up that as fast as he could get to it.  Ugh.  Anyway, Cece has also taken to getting her wiggles out and exercise in whenever she can, and for her, it’s in the form of doing “pirouettes” in any space where there is more than two-square-feet for her to move in.  She puts her arms out, winds up, and then flings her body in a circle.  Anyway, I digress; after Rowan dusted that beam with his body multiple times by sliding down it, we headed out on the streets of Gothenburg for a few-hour walk before our 8:30 dinner reservation (yes, it was a late reservation, but that was per their decision, not ours).

We walked along a river, which had a linear kind of park, and then we wove our way back through a school’s playground (lots of climbing, swinging, balancing ensued) and a shopping district and got to the hotel with a few minutes to spare before dinner.  I will say, Gothenburg (and now Oslo) has a lot of construction going on, like, building construction and road construction.  It was also Pride week in Gothenburg and there were rainbow flags waving everywhere, and there would be at the Volvo HQ the next day too. So, dinner was to be Scandinavian delicacies, and the first course – which Eric and I got, but not the kids, because we didn’t get the pre-set meal for them and rather ordered off the menu, which we’d planned with Volvo European Delivery before we left—was some smoked fish and caviar and creme fraiche and some other little dollops of things.  We are not really “fine dining” people (I always think back and chuckle at the crazy insane fancy meal Cece, Alia, my dad, and I had in Riga, during which they brought my dad’s meat on a tiny little pyre of pine which they lit on fire at the table), but Eric cleaned his plate for that first course and I shared some of the fish with Cece.  Our second course was a white fish in a cream sauce with asparagus and tiny potatoes.  That was delicious.  The final course was dessert and it was super intricate: little gelled tartlets with meringue knots and yuzu sorbet and a few chunks of rhubarb and caramelized white chocolate sprinkles and white chocolate brownies, in three tiny pieces. See, I could barely remember all of the elements. Rowan devoured what was left of Eric’s, and Cece shared mine with me.  The kids main course was actually a mac-n-cheese variant and a side of roasted head-of-cauliflower, which I though was very delicious.  They also got sparking apple juice, which of course they loved. OK, so the next morning, the Volvo driver picked us up at 8:40 and drove us to HQ.  At about 9:20, we had the keys to our new car! It all happened so fast and rather unceremoniously!  I mean, there was some ceremony in walking through these sliding glass doors into a big room with curtains on the walls, where the new car was parked.  Maybe the romance was dimmed a bit by our squawking children.  For some reason, they were kind of at their worst at exactly the wrong time.  We were trying to get all of the info about the new car from the guy who was orienting us to it, and the kids were supposed to be playing just on the other side of the glass doors (we could see them) with Legos, and of course, they mutually decided it was a perfect time to terrorize each other.  Well, never mind, once we got the car all set up and got them somewhat sorted out, we went over for a really quick spin in our new car over to the Volvo Museum, which was really close by but was kind of a struggle to get to because of some super-sizable freeway construction plus a roll-over accident with a semi that closed a roundabout that was crucial to us.  That messed us up on the way back, too.  Anyway, the Volvo Museum was so cool!  The kids kinds of settled down once we were there, checking out all of the amazing old Volvos from through the years, including buses, construction equipment, firetrucks, and even a plane.   We made our way back to the Volvo HQ and were treated to lunch in the little café there.  It was very yummy: smoked salmon, potatoes, meatballs for the kids (which only Cece ate) and some vegetarian pancakes that Eric and I split. After that, it was time for  tour of the factory.  We had to put our cell phones in a locked drawer and don safety glasses and then hop in a multi-car little “train” wagon thing, with the other guests.  We were in the front car, with a very cool woman who was the MC (she is American, from Dallas, but married a Swede, and lives in Sweden, and guides these factory tour for European Delivery guests; she thought our kids were hilarious). The kids were soooooooo engaged by the tour.  It was amazing.  We went into the body shop part, where the metal pieces are  assembled and welded.  Then we went into another building where the other parts are assembled too: doors added on, components inserted, testing done, etc. It really appeared to be a very gender-balanced and age-distributed workplace.  The tour took and hour.  I would love to give more details, and I will when salient aspects pop in my mind, but my brain is tired right now, so this will have to suffice. When we got back to the HQ, we got our phones back and gave the glasses back and got a found out how we could avoid stopping to pay tolls on entering Norway (by doing an EZ-pass kind of thing where it just reads our license plate and charges our credit card).  Then, we re-packed the back of the car, got the kids latched in, and whizzed off on the road to Norway!  The land of a-ha!  My long-time dream!  I was joking that I was sure that as soon as we crossed into Norway, there would be a huge billboard saying, “Welcome to Norway, the Land of A-Ha.”  That wasn’t the case, surprisingly. We used the built-in navigation on our Volvo during our drive – and I have not yet stressed how nice this car is. It is so nice.  I mean, even though in Finland, Sweden, and Norway this car is like the standard one for taxis, it still resonates with me as the nicest ride ever.  But, the reason taxis are luxury cars in Scandinavia is because the industry is, and I quote Eric via an article he read because we were scratching our heads about it, “highly regulated and hideously expensive.”  Anyway, we got to our apartment in Oslo and we then had a struggle to actually get the keys to our Airbnb.  They were supposed to be with the employee working at the corner store, called “Joker,” and we went in, and the guy was like, don’t have ‘em.  He told me I was at the wrong Joker.  So, Eric went back to that one, because it was at the intersection we were told to go to, and the guy rebuffed him again.  So, Eric went a few blocks over to another Joker, and that guy was super nice and was like, nope, you were at the right Joker originally. So, we *all* went back to the original Joker, and lo and behold, the guy finally found the envelope with our names on it.  Then, the apartment building is a four-floor walk-up, which I can hang with since my apartment in the Renaud was too, but in this case, we didn’t have clear information on which apartment was the one we needed to enter.  I looked back at the original Airbnb posting and it said “sunny top floor,” so that answered that question, but there were two apartments!  So, we gambled, picked one, tried the key, and it worked.  Whew. It was super nice (I mean, it *is* super nice, as I am writing this from the extra-long kitchen table in this, indeed, very sunny top-floor apartment). I texted with my friend Ryley a bit, who lived here, and we went out by car to a grocery store near her and then popped by her place for a sec.  She’d made us banana bread and gave us a bottle of wine and my kids were bananas for seeing her kids, and they watched some hilarious puppy videos together while we chatted.  Then, we got back to our place, fed the kids yogurt and banana bread for dinner, and got them down – late again! And, in the next post, I will tell you all about our first day in Oslo when I did not, surprisingly, run into any members of a-ha.

[obwjam]

Aunt May 18!

“Get your over-sized mitts off of me!”

not my best but sassy aunt may is a badass so that’s enough saving grace

from this post

———————————————————————————————————-

“Get your over-sized mitts off me!”

Tony held his hands up in a mock surrender. He had come down to the lab with Bruce to start working on some schematics for a new Hulkbuster suit, and when he got to the main table, there was just a… tiny person standing there. Turns out she was just looking for her nephew.

“Jeez, I was just trying to–”

“I don’t need your help, human!” she yelled, only to Tony, it was more like a high-pitched whine. She pointed her tiny finger to Bruce next. “None from you, either.”

Bruce raised his eyebrow, turning to Tony. Though he had only heard the stories of tiny people, he never expected one to be so… aggressive.

“Like it or not, if you want to find your nephew, you’re going to need our help.”

A few hours ago, Peter had went out borrowing and hadn’t come back. And May being May, of course, went out to see if he was alright, but she was so worried that she didn’t hear Bruce and Tony coming into the lab. She was a sitting duck.

“What… what does your nephew look like?” Bruce asked calmly, taking a seat. He tried his hardest not to chuckle at how cute May’s tiny angry face looked.

“Peter. His name’s Peter! And what kind of stupid question is that? He’s three inches tall! Don’t see how you could possibly confuse him for anyone else!”

Bruce flushed red, embarrassed that that was the question he chose to ask. Tony took notice to Bruce’s discomfort and interjected.

“Well, would you have any idea where he could be, then?” he responded with the same level of sass that this tiny person was exhibiting. He couldn’t stand the fact that some three-inch-tall creature could be more tenacious than him.

May’s face scrunched up. “I-I don’t know! If I knew, I wouldn’t even be taking to you right now. I’ve never been outside of this room before.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, but he could see how that would be true. He almost felt… bad? “Well, I’d bet that little bugger is in the kitchen. I keep noticing little pieces taken out of Steve’s homemade banana bread.”

May tensed up. Yeah, that sounded like Peter, all right.

“Hold on. Who’s Steve?” she asked. “I’ve only ever seen you two.”

“That’s because Rogers hates coming down here,” Tony huffed. “His ancient ice brain can’t even begin to comprehend this stuff.”

May was completely confused, but Bruce leaned in before Tony could make it worse.

“He’s just a friend. Now, can you tell us your name? Then we can go upstairs and start looking for Peter.”

May took a few steps back when Bruce leaned in, but kept her ground. “May.”

“May,” Bruce smiled. “I-I’m–”

“I know who you are,” she said snidely. “Can you move out of my way, please? I have to get down.”

May whipped out her hook and began to walk toward the edge of the table. The last thing she wanted was one of these giants to touch her. Bruce’s eyes went wide.

“W-what? No! Y-you’re not–”

May ignored him as she began to descend, but Tony was not going to wait four hours for her to make it up the stairs. He reached out and snatched her from the air.

“LET ME GO!” May shouted, wriggling in Tony’s grip. His thumb was pressing against her body to keep her still. Boy, this is weird.

“Look, May. The sooner we find this kid, the better it is for all of us.”

May continued to struggle, but she knew he was right. Her main concern was finding Peter.

“Okay, well, hold on or something,” Tony said as he began up the stairs. May could only pout as the world flew by underneath her. In just moments, they were upstairs in the kitchen. 

“PETER! PETER, WHERE ARE YOU?!” May shouted. Tony snorted, and May gave him a death glare.

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” he laughed, “You don’t think he can actually hear you yelling from down there, do you? You’re so–”

“AUNT MAY? I-IS THAT YOU?”

From some distant place, a tiny boyish voice called out. It sounded like it was coming from the counter…

“PETER! HONEY! I’M COMING!”

May gave Tony a big “HA” and an “I told you so” look and stuck her tongue out. She managed to wriggle her arm free and point in the direction of the voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard it,” Tony rolled his eyes, but he actually wouldn’t have guessed that was a voice if May didn’t respond back. He walked her over to the counter, setting her down.

She grunted as she pushed off Tony’s hand, dashing out of sight of the two humans. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“PETER! PETER!”

“I’M OVER HERE!”

May turned a corner behind a cereal box to find Peter… stuffing copious amounts of banana bread in his bag.

“Peter!” May ran over to hug him, then pulled herself back. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”

“I-I went out to get this bread! I know how much you love it, b-but then all the humans were watching something in the room over there, a-and I just couldn’t help myself, I guess– but how did you even get up here? Did you–”

Peter looked up as a shadow engulfed his vision. Terror filled his eyes as he locked gazes with Tony.

“O-OH MY GOD. UH, AUNT MAY, GET BEHIND ME AND START RUNN–”

May looked up and chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetie, that’s just Tony. He helped me find you.”

Peter was still shaking as Tony laughed to himself. These tiny people were alright.

[laxgym77-blog]

Your Number

Original story A/N: First Chapter is done! Thank you to my beta, @PeterJamesRainford for helping me with my grammar!

Josh's POV~

Just like any other day, today, I woke up, got dressed, and headed out the door to my car. Exactly why do we need to wake up at 6:00 am for school? I need my beauty sleep!

Parking my car in front of my high school and grabbing my book bag I started heading inside to the hell of a place we call, school, AKA prison. Walking toward the doors, I hear my name being called from behind me. Turning around, I see my best friend Evan, my friend since the 5th grade.

"Hey Dude, wait up!" Evan was running as fast as he could to catch up with me. He's a clumsy kid so, as he ran, Evan tripped and stumbled over a bunch of Freshmen before he finally caught up with me.

We walked inside the front doors to the school and headed down the hallways to first-period Geometry, my least favorite class. We sat down in our assigned seats, recognizable by the large name cards with everyone's names on them, while the teacher explained what we were going to learn today.

All of a sudden a kid I have never seen before rushed pass the door. He was on the smaller side with short brown hair and had on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, just like almost every other boy at school. He struck me as the cute and shy type. The teacher stopped mid-sentence and turned to the new kid.

"Hi, my name is, um, I'm Ethan, and I'm, um, new here." He said in a small voice, obviously nervous. This kid was timid but adorable, I thought while the teacher gestured to take the seat right behind me. He awkwardly walked in between students, managing to knock someone's backpack off their chair, as he went to the desk the teacher told him to sit down at. This utterly dull class might just be interesting after all, I thought, shooting one last look at the boy behind me.

Lunchtime finally rolled around, and I dove into the crowd of loud teenagers stampeding towards the large double doors. I scanned the cafeteria, trying to find my group of friends. Before I could locate them, someone caught my eye; the new kid from Geometry. I picked my brain trying to remember what his name was. Edward? No, that wasn't right. Elijah? Not that one, either. Eric? No, it was Ethan. As my eyes trailed after him as he was in line for food, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I turned my head, and my vision was temporarily obscured by my friend, Dan. His messy, dark brown hair was everywhere, like always and even though he was just under an inch shorter than me, he somehow managed to seem taller with just his personality.

"Oh hey, Dan what's up?" I shifted awkwardly, "Nothing? Cool. Let's go get a table ok, bro?" I said in an awkward voice trying to push him to the door that leads to a few tables outside as well as trying to pretend I wasn't staring at the new kid.

"Dude, what girl are you staring at that's causing you to blush that much?," he askes, while trying to find the girl I was staring at. Blushing? I was definite I wasn't blushing, I thought as my neck started to flush more red in embarrassment. Especially since I was not looking at some hot chick, but Ethan, who was a guy and positively not hot or female.

As I kept attempting to get him to the back of the lunchroom by jabbing him, nicely, I saw Ethan walking trying to find a table and looking lost. I mean how could I just let him sit alone? Nice people would let him sit with them. I'm nice. Not at all looking at him in a not dudebro like fashion. Of course not.

"Hey, Ethan!" I practically yelled as my arms started to move on their own volition. As I was waving like a lunatic, I gathered the attention of some people nearby, making my flush reappear. Ethan did a double take and looked around as if there was someone else named Ethan behind him. He seemed to realize I was talking to him and battled through the throng of students, towards Dan and me. His face was red, and I could tell he felt embarrassed about being called out like that which made me even more embarrassed than I was about practically my entire life at the moment.

Quickly sitting down, making room for Ethan, who sat on the same side as me, right next to me. For some reason, my feelings of embarrassment didn't feel like going away, and my blush just kept darkening the longer Ethan was there. Which was weird and not dudebro etiquette.

Thankfully no one noticed my weirdness as we all unwrapped our lunches, mine was a turkey cheese sandwich with chips and a slice of my mom's homemade banana nut bread. Since I was the one who had the unscheduled outburst to invite Ethan over to our table, I had to be the one who introduced him to the rest of the guys, Dan, Evan, Joe, Leo, Chris, and Austin. They all said their introduction to Ethan, and we all talked.

To me, it was going pretty good. Ethan was included in conversations, and I stopped worrying about the impression I made on Ethan and my friends. The end of lunchtime came rather quickly for my liking, not because of any particular reason besides food and friends of course and Evan and Dan got up to -go somewhere-.

Let me get this straight, Evan and Dan are not. It's clear that they either are together or the two most oblivious pinning duo you can meet. They literally stare at each other for -hours- and are very touchy-feely with each other. More than dudebros do.

We waved goodbye, and they trotted off to wherever they were heading to.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, with me glancing at the clock every few minutes and each teacher droning on and on about his or her subject which was equally as mind-numbing as each teacher.

"Hey, Josh!" Someone called from behind me. I turn around and see Evan trying his hardest to get to me in the crowded hallway of the High school. He got elbowed in the ribs and decked in the face as he struggled. When he finally caught up with me, he flat out fell on his face because he's Evan and can't get anywhere without either falling or bumping into objects and people, but I still love him. Platonically. As dudebros.

"Yeah, what's up," I said guiding Evan to our last class of the day which we both have together, gym. Somehow he managed to still get hurt as a teacher flung open his door a slam it right on Evan. He, of course, just shook it off and continued with our conversation,

"Hey, are you going to Jenna's party later tonight?"

I was momentarily taken aback by the sudden change in topic,

"Oh, um, maybe. I don't know." I say. I only go to these parties sometimes, it can get a bit crazy as the night goes on.

"Come on man you need to come! He whined, hugging my middle, "Please." he pleaded, giving me the dreaded puppy-dog eyes. Like dude, don't give me those puppy-dog eyes in the middle of the hallway. They are dangerous.

I relented, "Okay, okay, fine. But we are only staying till eleven, and I am driving." If I didn't, he'd intensify those adorable puppy eyes. I was not emotionally prepared for the intense Evan puppy-dog eyes.

We approached the boy's locker room just laughing and talking. That is until I walk through the doors and notice that Ethan is in this gym period. He was currently taking off his shirt, and I felt my face and neck start to heat up again. Maybe it was just hotter in the locker room that the hallways.

I quickly just take off my shirt and change, trying not to look at Ethan too much or reveal to Evan that I was this flushed because of the heat. He'd probably think I was blushing for some reason. Which I wasn't. Blushing, that is.

"Okay, boys hurry it up!" I hear the gym coach yell as he leaves the locker room to head to the gymnasium.

We all pull on the rest of the gym uniforms and walk out, but just as I started walking, I️ accidentally walked straight into Ethan.

"Oh. Um, sorry." I say trying to not sound awkward or stupid. Because he was new here and I didn't want to scare him off a potential friendship. Yep. That was it; didn't want to chase away a friend in the making.

"Oh, no problem it's cool." He says with his head down, and I can see a little blush creep up his cheeks. Probably from the heat. That was from the gym. It was torrid in there.

To diffuse the silence that came over us, I decided to talk. Which I should probably stop doing. Maybe Evan could find the off button or just mute me around Ethan because I just can't seem to stop talking.

"So, I'm going to this, um, party tonight. Would you like to go?" I say before I realize what just came out of my mouth. Party. Me. Ethan.

Well, that wasn't what I was supposed to say. Probably. Actually, I was planning on not running my mouth, but here I am. Talking. To Ethan. Again. I should get a head start on the off switch or the mute button.

He looks up slightly, so his side eyes meet mine. The two of us continue to flush because of the sweltering heat inside of this school. I should ask what that's about. Maybe get a few air conditions installed in this place.

"Oh, um, okay, sure, but I don't have a car," he says quietly, and now his face is completely red. It's actually kinda boiling in here at the moment, someone really needs to bring the entirety of Alaska to cool down the room. And I look down at Ethan can't help to smile.

"Oh, that's no problem. I'll drive you, and I'm taking one of my other friends Evan, as well anyways." I say smiling again because he has actually agreed to go, which was an amicable thing to do. Because he is new. I'm his friend. I'm helping him get to know other people and this will be good happy friend times.

"Here's my number," I say, taking out a sharpie from my pocket and writing on his wrist. Our phones were left in the locker room, per school protocol. We ended up awkwardly standing next to each other and me trying not to stare at him until the coach blew his whistle.

Gym period is one of those classes where people who play sports even look stupid. Today the coach made us do rope climbing and badminton. I know those two don't go together but it's gym, so I can't really understand the logic of it either, but we have to do it anyway.

The rope climbing went awfully as always. I was one of the first to go up the rope even though I was hiding behind a bunch of other people. Coach just likes to choose the people who don't want to do things first. I slowly walked to my death as everyone just gave me sympathetic looks knowing all of our fates. I reached the rope and tried my hardest to lift myself up but fell. I stood up again and got maybe 4 inches off the ground and just gave up. So let's say nope, not going to be a professional rope climber. Is there even a professional rope climber? At least I did a little better than Evan, he just swung and fell so I can say that.

I pretty much just ran out of school after the bell rang, not even bothering to change, to get to my car because it was Friday and that meant no school for the next two days. Hell,yeah! As I got in my car to put my key and start up the engine, I heard someone bang on the window I turn over and see Evan just standing there, also in his gym clothes.

I rolled down the window so he could hear me, "Dude, what are you doing?" I asked confused.

"I'm going home with you until we leave for the party." He says like I knew about this the entire time. I waved my hand to gesture him to come on in, and we headed out of the school parking lot.

Once we got to my house and walked in, we realized we had a few hours to just chill and eat some snacks. I instantly dropped my book bag and raced to the cupboards to grab some chips and Evan fiddled with the PlayStation. We ate and played some video games in the living room as we chatted about whatever.

"So, what do you think of that new kid? His name was like John or something?" Evan asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

I instantly felt my face start to become red. Seriously what's going on with me today? Maybe there was a heat wave or something. Maybe my house also hat a heating problem.

"Yeah, he seems pretty cool. I guess." I say while grabbing another chip out of the bag that Evan has been hogging the whole time.

"Aren't you bringing him to the party with us tonight?" He askes while beating me again in the game. He reminded me I have to text what his address is. I pull out my phone out of my pocket and look for any recent texts.

[akaaka04]

To Unknowingly Get to You

Did y’all know today’s a national holiday? It’s someone’s birthday. owob 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @hidewari​!!!! AS OF TODAY, YOU ARE NO LONGER A CURSED BOY! You are... an omen man™. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

In the bustling center of downtown Tokyo, a young man in a hand-me-down, yellow hoodie dashes across a parked car to evade the police officer chasing after him. The police officer's shouts of “Stop, thief!” fall on deaf ears as the more agile, much faster, man zooms past gasping citizens with a victorious smile on his face. The police officer trips on a crack in the sidewalk and loses his balance, his arms flailing every which way as he desperately reaches for something to grab onto to prevent from smacking face first onto hard concrete. A nasty THUD sounds behind the criminal’s earshot and he uses this gained opportunity to pick up the pace and turn into an alleyway.

He yelps in surprise when he almost collides into someone coming out of the alleyway and quickly spins on his heel to maneuver around them, but not gracefully enough to not stumble. The criminal lands on his butt, and several bread rolls fall from his pockets. Some aren’t salvageable, having landed in puddles of either rain water from the day before or mystery liquids that seep out from dirty dumpster bins along the walls. The man curses and snaps his head around to glare at the person who ruined his clean get-away only to be met with piercingly blue eyes.

He’s taken aback by the intensity of those eyes, wondering if the person attached to them is staring into his soul or seeing right through him. He blinks and realizes after several seconds that he's locked eyes with a tall, tan skinned woman— a rather pretty one at that. She clutches onto a brown, paper bag full of groceries, having almost dropped it from their near collision. She glances from him to the soggy bread rolls crumbling away at her feet, then back to him. His stomach grumbles loud enough for her to hear, and a frown crosses her features. The police officer that had been chasing him blows a whistle, alerting the criminal that he’s wasted too much time staring at a pretty girl— his one of two weaknesses.

The woman puts two and two together, and to the thief’s surprise, the woman nods her head to the back of a dumpster. Was she… suggesting for him to hide…? He listens for the sound of the police officer’s approaching footsteps to gauge whether or not he should book it or take the woman’s advice, but unfortunately, she makes the decision for him. She drags him by the collar and plops him behind some black garbage bags, raising a finger to her lips to silence him as she stages the crime scene.

She quickly drops some carrots and a leek on the ground just as the police officer rounds the corner in a huff. His nose is heavily bruised and slightly twisted from his fall. He eyes the woman suspiciously when he notices the same bread rolls the thief was carrying by her feet.

“Did you see a man in a yellow sweater come running through here, ma’am? He’s well known around these parts for stealing from food markets and convenience stores.”

The woman’s eyes widen in feigned disbelief. She shakes her head to answer the officer’s question. “What does he steal, if I may ask?” The woman’s voice is calm and collected and… warm, the thief notes. It leaves him feeling… strange, and he’s not sure what to make of that.

“Food of all kinds," the officer replies. "He has an affinity for baked goods from a pastry shop a few blocks away. Much like the ones you see here.”

The woman shifts her weight from one foot to the other and shakes her head again. “Must’ve been after I got here, then. Because if I’d seen him, he’d have stolen my groceries after dropping all of his goodies. Don’t you think?”

The officer considers her hypothetical and nods in agreement. He warns her to stay vigilant and to report the repeat offender should she cross paths with him in the future. She agrees with a friendly smile, and the officer calls for his buddies to keep a lookout for the thief as he turns to leave. She breathes a sigh of relief and whispers that it’s safe to come out now, but when she looks behind the dumpster, the thief is gone. She hopes he didn’t drop all of his dinner and wonders if she’ll see him again. She walks home thinking about him and how she can’t shake the feeling she’s met him somewhere before. She finds that odd.

*****

It’s raining the next time he sees her again. He’s chosen to sleep in a slide at a park unknowingly near where she works, looking for unwanted scraps tossed aside precariously when he finds a half-eaten sandwich in a trash can. He snatches it up and rushes for cover under a gazebo just as it starts to pour, and who does he bump into? Her, having clocked out of work and also running for cover from the rain. The newspaper she used to shield her head from the rain is thinning and ripping apart, so they're stranded together until the rain lets up again. She thinks it’s a small world to have found him again; he thinks it’s shameful to have her see him at two of his lowest points.

He stands as far away from her as possible, only now remembering how badly he must smell to her. His hair is greasy, his hoodie and long-sleeved undershirt are both drenched with sweat and rain water, and his pants are baggy and ripped in several places. And yet, she shows not the slightest sign of discomfort. Either she's not repulsed by the sight of him, or she's a convincing actress. She’s wearing a long, black coat today that shows off her petite figure and if he were in better spirits, he’d be charming her to the moon and back. He fidgets anxiously and considers making a run for the nearest tree to avoid her, but she quickly digs into her purse and fishes out a granola bar and an uneaten banana she couldn’t finish from her lunch.

She places both on a wooden bench at the center of the gazebo and smiles apologetically for not having much else. As if she owed him something more. He wonders if she's being generous to him out of pity or actual kindness. He's never been one to deny free food, however, and doesn't hesitate to snatch her offerings and bolt back to the slide he's made home for the night without another word. She whispers a "you're welcome" under her breath and sits under the gazebo to listen to the heavy fall of the rain on the wooden roof above her head. She's always loved it when it rains, but tonight's shower storm feels bittersweet. She wonders why.

*****

He's starting to get uncomfortable with how many times she pops into his head, whether by his own doing or not. He's dreamt of her twice since their last encounter, making it four times total that he's dreamt of her since first meeting her. The first time she appeared in his dreams, she had manifested as... a black dog or wolf with those same, blue, piercing eyes of hers and he had no idea how or why he knew it was her. He'd wracked his brain over and over again with what little memories he had left and couldn't come up with anything logical.

The second time she appeared in his dreams, she was still in her dog/wolf form but was accompanied by an old man. The old man kept her tied to a leash with a studded collar, and god was that infuriating to see. She was so loyal and kind to the geezer that it felt... wrong. She didn't deserve to be kept as a pet. She deserved to be free to live a life she wanted. The thief remembered trying to convince her to ditch her "owner" in his dream, but she stubbornly refused, claiming he was all she'd ever known and that he was family. The thief woke up from this dream feeling determined he'd try and change her mind another night.

The third dream started off well, with him and her standing on a bridge together overlooking the sun set. The air was warm, and they were mostly silent and enjoying each other's company. He turned to look at her, to tell her she was a wild animal and that all animals belonged in nature, but he got distracted by the way she longingly smiled into the distance. A mix of sadness and possible homesickness was etched into her features, and he was captivated by her to the point that he forgot about what he'd wanted to say. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. The thief only realized a second later that it wasn't her who was the problem-- it was him.

He couldn't hear suddenly, and panic bubbled up in his chest as he watched the image of her fade and warp away from him. His surroundings turned to black and disintegrated into ash before him; incomprehensible images of people he didn't know flashed before him far too quickly for him to understand what was going on, and when he tried to scream, he couldn't. He could feel his throat burn as if he was screaming, which only helped in making him freak out even more. When he woke up, it was almost dawn and he was either sweating buckets from fear or had been sobbing. Or both.

He couldn't remember what the last dream of her had been about-- only that he'd been startled from sleep feeling hollow inside and heartbroken...

*****

He makes it a habit to duck his face while out searching for another meal or a place to rest his head for the night just in case he bumps into her again. Things would be awkward now that she's infiltrated his head space. He'd seen her in passing on one too many occasions and was ravaged by the onslaught of emotions he'd been given from what he now called nightmares. Every time he was-- for lack of a better word-- triggered, he was overcome with grief and an aching head so much so that he'd stagger and feel like the wind was knocked out of him.

On one occasion, he'd fainted from how overwhelmed he'd gotten over her and only came to when a stray dog came over to challenge him for his bed. It would take him several moments to regain his composure and even longer for his head to stop throbbing, so he gave in to the dog's demands and scampered away without complaint.

On particularly rough days, he'd completely ignore his hunger pains and couldn't even bring himself to sit up. It was on one particularly rough day after weeks of having successfully avoided her that she ended up finding him. She'd stumbled upon him per chance while out on a run around a small park. She looked so relieved to see him again until she noticed he was scrunched up into a ball, panting heavily and red-faced. His mousey-brown hair stuck to his face as sweat visibly poured down his forehead and neck.

Her relieved mood changed in an instant as she sprinted across the street-- almost getting hit by a car in the process-- and immediately knelt beside him to press her hand to his forehead. He was burning up with a high fever, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused as she gently cradled his head in her arms. She called for an ambulance to take him to the hospital and rode along with him, her worried gaze never leaving his face. She wasn't allowed to go with him into the ER once the paramedics had wheeled him inside, but she'd be damned if her help for him would only go this far.

She frequently asked the nurses on call what his status was until one of them got fed up with her and shooed her away. She came back an hour later, having called off from work and gone to a flower shop to pick up balloons and flowers in retaliation. One of the nurses, after much convincing, took pity on the blue-eyed woman and let her through to the thief's room. He had accidentally eaten a poisoned snack meant to kill the rats in desperation to have something, anything, to eat and had almost died.

The blue-eyed woman almost burst into tears once the nurse finally left them alone together, taking in the scene of him being hooked up to machines somewhat poorly. The blue-eyed woman tip-toed to his bedside and reached out to tuck him snuggly under the covers after setting his gifts aside, needing a distraction to prevent herself from sobbing on the spot. Perhaps it had been a while, but she didn't remember him being this handsome up close. She was about to sit in the chair provided for her when he weakly began to mumble "Blue... Blue..."

She froze, her body stopping an inch above her seat as she held her breath in anticipation. When he went silent again, she pondered why, of all things, he'd subconsciously chosen to say that.

*****

She went to visit him every day for as long as she could for weeks after that, putting up a great fight with the nurses to let her through each and every time. He'd been starving himself for days before ingesting the rat poison, she'd found out, and couldn't begin to imagine what he'd gone through to do that to himself. She chose to talk to him about her day while he slept, to help him forget about his hardships even if only for a little while. She figured she could've read a book to him instead or let him listen to some calming music, but sharing bits of her life with him felt... right. Like she was talking with a friend. She knew how dangerous this must’ve sounded to anyone rational, and she’d agree with them.

She wasn’t sure how she knew he could be trusted-- she just did.

*****

The one time she’s late to go see him, he’s not in his assigned place. She asks a nurse if he’s been discharged, and when the nurse says “no,” her fear rises. Had he left the hospital still feeling sick? Was he just well enough to survive on the streets again? She immediately regretted taking him here, thinking he’d probably run away for fear of being unable to pay the medical costs. She curses in frustration and hops from nurse to nurse, begging them to help her find him. The nurses do the best they can, but with no name registered on his records, the search proves unsuccessful. The blue-eyed woman is just about to lose hope when a doctor comes down the hallway and recognizes her.

“You’re here for that homeless kid, right? Brown hair, brown eyes? Yellow hoodie?”

“Yes! Yes, I am! Where is he? No one seemed to know where he’d been transferred to.” She replies, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

“He’s over in the B wing, down this hall and to your right. He seems to call for you in his sleep.” The doctor smirks playfully when she stutters out a “me?”

“It’s good that he’s finally made a friend. Poor kid’s been wandering the streets for years and doesn’t even know who he is.”

She feels her heart sink to the soles of her feet and bites her lip in an effort not to cry. The doctor waves for her to follow him towards the receptionist’s desk.

“You come here so often that I’m gonna certify you as his official visitor. Does that sound ok?”

She nods and thanks him graciously, writing ANA where she’s instructed on the sign-in sheet and on a name tag. Ana follows the doctor’s instructions to his room and hesitates at the door when she hears a flush from the toilet inside.

He’s awake. She hadn’t prepared herself for this part. She inhales deeply and listens for the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing and the sound of his bare feet padding against the linoleum floor as he gets back into bed. Ana counts to three and knocks quietly on the door twice, jumping slightly when she hears him say, “Come in.” His voice still sounds a little tired, but it also sounds... calm. Ana slides his door open and shut behind her, waiting to see how he’ll react now that he knows it’s her. She hears him gasp before she picks up her head to see him, and the room suddenly grows silent.

He’s sitting upright in bed with his hands folded in his lap, staring at her owlishly. She can tell from here that he’s regained some color to his cheeks. He’s showered for probably the first time in months, his hair combed and spiked up instead of its usual flat state. He pushes an empty tray of hospital food to the side and pats the bed, gesturing for her to approach him. Ana doesn’t dare breathe as she hesitantly walks over to him, which makes him smile softly at her. Ana blushes under his warm gaze and lowers herself onto a chair by his side, never once tearing her eyes away from him.

They remain quiet for a few more minutes as they take in each other before them.He’s the first to break the silence for once when he thanks her for all that she’s done. Ana waves a hand to let him know it’s no problem.

“I...” Her voice comes out in a squeak, and she coughs to clear her throat of her nerves. He chuckles at that, and she blushes harder.

“What I wanted to say was... that you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll pay for it. Your hospital bills, I mean...” She says as she plays with the strap of her purse. He hums and leans back into his pillow.

“You know I’ll never be able to repay you for that.” He comments, frowning. Ana shakes her head and carefully takes one of his hands into hers. She feels a rush of familiarity in doing so and looks up to see he’s wide eyed as well. Ana licks her lips and squeezes his hand.

“You don’t owe me anything. I want to help you. You deserve it.”

He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes and tries to blink them away rapidly. He’s at a loss for words, but squeezes her hand back reassuringly. Ana saddens at the forlorn smile tugging at his lips.

“...You don’t even know me.” He whispers, voice breaking the slightest bit. “I don’t even know me...”

“I know.” Ana answers. She shifts in her seat and thinks carefully about what she’s about to say next. “I know we’ve never met before, and this... might sound crazy, but I... I feel like I have to do this.” He shifts his gaze from their hands to her face just as Ana leans in closer. “I don’t know why... but I feel like I’m drawn to you.” She admits, a look of honesty in her eyes.

He perks up at that, his nose wrinkling. “Do you mean that?” Ana nods, and he exhales shakily. He scoots closer to her and bites his lip in thought. “Would you... believe me if I said I knew you once?” Ana’s eyebrows raise in confusion. She shakes her head and shrugs, but waits for him to continue on the matter.

“Ever since I first met you,” he clarifies, “I’ve dreamt about you, in another life. Sorry if that sounds creepy...” He smiles apologetically. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, and they could just be weird dreams, but they feel too real.”

Ana nods and takes what he says all in. It doesn’t sound too far-fetched of an idea, all things considered. She’s never been one to scoff at fate or coincidences, and it would explain why she feels the need to be with him despite knowing absolutely nothing about him. But she also can’t prove what he’s said is true because she’s had none of the experiences he’s described to her for herself; it’s almost heartbreaking to her. Ana remembers something important and feels her heart begin to race as the clogs in her brain begin to click into place.

“Hey... Can I ask you something?” She starts, hoping her hunch is on the right track. “Your doctor told me you were talking in your sleep. Did he ever mention that to you?”

The thief nodded, eyes lowered in confusion. Ana felt herself shake in anticipation for her next question.

“Did you know that, back in high school, my friends used to call me ‘Blue?’”

*****

Ana is there for him once he’s finally released from the hospital with a stuffed dog and a home-cooked meal. Ana had bought him a change of clothes after the ones he was brought in were discarded. She thought he looked good in yellow and had gotten him another sweater in the same color as his old one; he was sporting it proudly today.

He’s over joyed to see her once he steps outside and comes bounding over to scoop her up into a bear hug and spins her around, the two of them giggling like children. He sets her down and eagerly waits for her to hand him his presents. She does so with a smile as he brings the boxed lunch up to his nose to sniff it, and his mouth begins salivating.

“You ready to go?” Ana points her thumb over her shoulder.

He nods and then cocks an eyebrow, searching behind her to see what she’s talking about. She laughs and shakes her head.

“I hope you know I’m not letting you go back to fend for yourself.”

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

“With me! Duh.” She boops his nose and is pleased to see the tips of his ears turn red.

“Is... that allowed?”

Ana’s face is smug as she loops her arm around his and begins walking towards the parking lot without answering his question. "So,” she bumps her hip against his as they wait for the light to turn green. “You picked out a name for yourself yet?”

He hums in thought, tapping his chin.

“Yeah. I’ve narrowed it down to two choices.”

“Oh good! Let’s hear them.”

“Satoshi.”

“You don’t... look like a Satoshi. No offense.”

“Really? Aw, man...” He huffs and walks step by step alongside her when she starts moving again. She makes them turn a corner to catch a bus back to her apartment.

“What’s the other name you liked?” She stops them under the shade of a tree right by the bus stop.

“Higemaru.”

Ana’s ears perk up at that, and she whips her head around to cup his face in her hands. “Hige. Please let me call you Hige, and I’ll let you call me Blue.”

Her eyes are sparkling as she says this, and he feels his chest swell with affection. He tries to control the blush threatening to color the bridge of his nose and fails.

“Deal.” He responds with a small grin. Ana squeals in delight and kisses his cheek. Hige almost faints.