#but on account of the chapter being posted today I packed my ass up to a cafe

[aster-draws]

Identity shenanigans are a hallmark of all superhero fanfictions and i will never get tired of writing them.

This is from chapter 19 of my fic Better Halves (and other such falsehoods) which is like 100k (so far) of Tim and Danny being idiots like this please go read it it's a labor of love.

just the painted bit below the cut :) if you want it

[thisisarcanereverie]

A Distraction (DARK! Moon Knight x Reader) the Knight and the Pawn Series

A/N: SooooooOooooOOOOooo....This is a long one.

like 11 pages, and a grand total of 4.8k words......I have no self restraint when it comes to smut anymore it's insane.

If you guys caught my posts earlier today you will know that this chapter contains some serious ass smut. Chapter warnings are below, but I just want to take a moment and thank you guys for all the love and support you've shown this series. We're almost through with it about two or three more chapters left before the series is done. I do encourage you guys to interact a lot with this, it gives me more motivation than you think! Each reply or reblog with feedback literally fuels me to write more, so thank you!

MINORS DNI!!

WARNINGS: Dark themes, Smut, P in V sex, choking (m recieving), oral (f recieving), praise kink (m and f) hella hate sex (but also it's kinda tender???) dark smutty marc (he's one hell of a warning) slightly subby Marc (a warning)

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“God! that was awful!” You said as you grabbed the towel from your friend's hand, stuffing down the butterflies in your stomach as his eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth turned upward as the deep sound of his laughter filled the room. You and Marc had gotten pretty bored and had run out of movies to binge ages ago, so like any other people your age did when there wasn’t any tv to watch and you were with your best friend, you decided to play a stupid game. The game you guys chose happened to be an old favorite of Marc’s. 

Truth or Dare. 

“Well it wasn’t supposed to be pleasant,” Marc said as though he didn’t just dare you to jump into the freezing creek in front of the cabin, “where would the fun be in that.” 

“Haha” You sarcastically laughed, drying your hair with the towel he provided, “So much fun. Now if you excuse me I have to change clothes before I die of hypothermia,” You say as you make your way to your room before you turn back suddenly, “and don’t you dare fall asleep before I’m done it’s my turn pretty boy!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, starlight!” You heard Marc say. You quickly changed out of the freezing wet clothes, dried yourself off a little more before putting on the warmest clothes you had packed. A light hoodie and sweatpants. You gathered the wet clothes to hang outside to air dry. By the time you have completed this task, you notice Marc sitting in the nook by the window. Moonlight in his dark hair and a somber, far off look in his eyes. He looked like something from a painting in an art gallery somewhere, something that people went up to and got feeling from because it reminded them of someone or something or a certain point in their life. You always knew Marc was attractive, but right now to you he was more. He almost looked impossible to touch, otherwise he would evaporate into thin air, a mirage. 

You shake your head of those weird thoughts before joining him by the nook, he didn’t seem to notice you until you let out a sigh as you followed his gaze into the still waters. 

“One day I want to visit the ocean,” Marc said,  you nodded in acknowledgement. 

“That sounds nice,” you replied, “feeling the sand on your feet, watching the moon pull the tide in and out, or even watching the sun set and shine on the waters.”

“I’d like it if you were there with me,” Marc said, “to see the ocean and feel the sand and other crap like that.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’d like that too.” For a while silence settled between you, your gaze shifting occasionally from the waters in front of you to your curly haired best friend. You studied the way his jaw clenched and the tapping of his index finger. You studied each facial feature of his and just admired him. Though you would never admit it, whether that was from denial or fear you were unsure. 

“Truth or Dare,” You say finally, keeping your eyes on him. Marc let out a small sigh after being broken out of his thoughts and he looked at you. 

“Truth.” He answered, not really thinking it through. 

“What were you just thinking about?” You could see the light flush on his cheeks and his eyes darted slightly. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me what you were thinking about just now.” You insisted. 

“You really want to know?” Marc asked. 

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Probably.” 

There was a few seconds of hesitation before he dropped his shoulders and looked away, attempting to hide the glow of blush rising on his cheeks. 

“I was thinking about how I’m probably going to be the only virgin in the marines.” You could tell from his tone he was trying to play it off as a small joke, something to laugh off. You don’t know what possessed you, you didn’t know if it was because of the moon light in his hair, the reflection of the water in his eyes, the intoxicating smell of cedar, smoke, and rain that always seemed to linger on him., or maybe it was because he was Marc, your Marc and your Marc always made you feel safe with him. But you didn’t laugh and as you slid closer to him, you could feel your pulse raise a little bit.  

“Y’know… it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What doesn’t have to be that way?”

“You being the only virgin in the marines.” 

“Oh what you’re going to join too?”

“No,” You said simply, suddenly the air became thick as that word lingered in the air, the tension became palpable as Marc’s eyes drifted from the water to your face. You could feel him studying you, looking for any trace of mischief or any indication that you didn’t really mean what you said, that maybe he was reading the situation wrong. But he wasn’t, he could see the serious nature of the question in your eyes. You could see his gaze change from studious to cautious, his eyes darken as he drank you in. 

“Care to elaborate,” Marc said as he placed a hand on your knee tentatively, as though he were testing the waters. Making sure he wasn’t reading the situation wrong and that he wasn’t putting your friendship on the line for something he misread. 

“I’m saying you don’t have to be a virgin,” You said, “That can change.” You feel his hand, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric, travel upward before resting on your mid thigh, “I can change that.” 

“Are you sure?” You could sense the slight tremor in his voice, “wouldn’t this change everything?”

“Not unless we let it,” You said, your hand delicately trailing up his arm, “if I’m honest, I would rather lose it to you rather than some dude who I’ll have nothing to do with in five years. But we don’t have to, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

“I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable,” Marc said, his hand trailing your hip as he leaned in closer to you, “I feel the same way.” 

“Then shut up and kiss me, pretty boy.” 

And with that his lips crashed clumily into yours, however in its own way it was soft and gentle. Later on you would look back on this kiss and pinpoint this was the moment when you knew, deep in your bones you knew as his hands explored you and you explored him, that you loved him. That no matter what he did, no matter how much he had hurt you. 

Some part of you will always love him. 

Even if you don’t always want to. 

—

Today was the day, the day you would attempt to escape. 

Over the course of a few days you tried different, covert methods of knocking Marc unconscious. You tried a blend of various teas that could knock an elephant out. 

You tried working him out to exhaustion under the guise of exercise.  

You tried a combination of both. 

You were running out of time, today was the day and you still had no idea how to knock him flat out. And honestly the fact that the tea nor the rigorous exercise made little to no impact on him worried you, you figured some part of that was just one of the benefits of khnoshu’s avatar. You have to be in pique physical condition in that line of work. 

But Khonshu also depends on his avatar to be a bit of a mess on the inside in order to manipulate them to his whim. Which always unsettled you, but now you might be able to use it to your advantage. 

Only you wanted to save that for a last resort. 

The only time you remembered Marc sleeping deeply was at that cabin that night. When in the afterglow his head was on your chest and he just listened to your heart beat and your hands combed through his hair. That night he was practically comatose for a solid eight hours, you couldn’t wake him if you tried, and you did. You assume it had something to do with the comfort of it all. 

You didn’t want to use that precious memory, however twisted it all was now, and change it into a tool. But what other choice did you have, what choice did he leave you?

At least this is what you told yourself. 

You knew he would probably be suspicious if you just walked up and had your way with him. And you can’t find it in yourself to set up a romantic scene either. 

It was midday and you were thinking of how to go about it, looking out at the city during the rain. It always rained in London. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice him come in. 

“Truth or Dare?”

Your mind was thrown back to that night as you whip your head in his direction. He was sitting beside you, his gaze focused outside. When he turns his head that way you can almost see him again, you can almost see your Marc in there, with the light in his hair 

You stuff down those memories and butterflies deep inside you as you huff. 

“That is a game for children.” 

“It was our game.” Marc replied coolly. 

“No,” You said, “it used to be our game.” you paused, “we’re no longer the same people we were when we last played it.” 

“Yes we are,” Marc said, holding onto your hand, “I’m still pining after you like a schoolboy and you’re still trying to convince yourself that you don’t love me.” 

“Will you stop,” you grit through your teeth as you move your head to look at him, your eyes boring holes into him, “Will you stop telling me what I feel and what I don’t.”

“Only when you stop lying to yourself.” 

You got up to leave, you were almost to the door, your mind fogged with emotion when you felt your hand being tugged back firmly, you turned your head to fight back but you were shocked by how close his face was to you. Your breathing stopped for a moment as you took him in, his smell, the way his curls fell over his face framing his eyes, how stubble had begun to grow on him giving his face some newfound dimension. For a moment you stand there, both of you breathing heavily, your heart beating rapidly against your chest and your mind stopped functioning, you were so close to each other your noses brushed against the other. One move would be all it took to close the gap, to connect your lips. A mere half an inch away. 

“Tell me,” Marc said, his voice low and barely above a whisper, “tell me you don’t want me.” Your muddled brain barely registered the sentence, when you didn’t respond quickly he leaned toward your neck, you could feel him inhaling the scent of your perfume and body wash, you moved your neck to give him better access, begging for his lips on your neck but did no such thing as his hand moved to cradle your face in his. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away.” 

You said nothing, you tried to justify it by telling yourself you needed him, you needed to let this happen so you could escape. 

You knew it was all lies. 

His fingers gently massaged into your scalp, you practically melted into his touch, every nerve was on fire and he had yet to kiss you. 

The rotten bastard. 

“I hate you,” You say as your hands fists themselves in his shirt and crush his lips on yours. It was all tongue and teeth, you molded your lips against his in this fiery battle of mind and body. 

“I hate you.” You repeat as you pull him against you, his hands moving from your face to grip your hips firmly, You could feel him start to maneuver you, slowly walking you back towards the nearest wall. Without warning, you let out a little yelp as Marc effortlessly lifted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as Marc pinned you against the wall. The coolness of it shocked your ignited skin. His large hands then move, they give your hips a firm squeeze before trailing down your leg and caressing upward. You bite his lip mid kiss as you feel his fingers brush against the bare skin underneath your shirt, igniting a fire within you. 

“I hate you,” You lied, your words meaningless and barely above a growl. You could see it in his dark, half lidded eyes, that he didn’t believe it one bit. 

“No you don’t.” 

And with that he kissed you with much more force than before, his pillow soft lips crash onto yours with enough passion to make you woozy. Your fingers leave the collar of his shirt and move to remove yours, you separated for just a moment to remove the all too thick layer of clothing. You were about to kiss him again when he stopped you. You were about to question him when you saw it, the look of some dark desire in his eyes. A look that seemed to want to devour you piece by piece. His hands made their way up your torso, his skin raising goosebumps in their wake as your head rolled back as you felt him palm your breasts through the material of your bra, a soft moan escaped your lips as his descended on your clavicle, slowly moving down to leave open mouthed kisses on the tops of you breasts. You gripped his shoulders as he removed one hand to unhook the offending material from behind your back. It was so quick and sly you didn’t even know what he was doing until your bra was dropped to the floor below you. You were slightly impressed that he unhooked it with one hand and didn’t require any assistance. 

Honestly speaking you found it hot. 

Before you could make some snide comment, you mouth erupted with a very loud moan as his mouth practically devoured your nipple, sucking, leaving hickies, kissing, you could feel wetness pool itself in between your thighs, completely ruining your underwear as he took the pebbled nipple in between in his teeth and gave a quick tug. Your hands went from his shoulders to clench tightly in his soft curls as he repeated the same actions on your other, neglected breast. As he worked wonders on your breast you felt his hand knead the flesh of your ass and your thighs that by now you had no doubt were crushing him. 

You moved your hips experimentally against, feeling the clothed bulge grind against you had your grip in his hair tighten as a shaky, breathy moan came from you, the slight friction feeling like heaven. Meanwhile you could feel him tense as his grip on you became bruising, not that you minded. 

Experimentally again you grind yourself against him again, this time with more force. The low growl that reverberated off of him could only be described as feral as his lips left your breast as he looked at you in your eyes. His midnight eyes became impossibly darker, as the intense gaze he gave you quaked you right to your core as you became impossibly wetter. You could feel his calloused hands grip the sides of your waist firmly as he thrusted his hips up and dragged your cloth covered cunt over his clothed bulge harshly extracting a feral sound from you as electricity shot up your spine and made your head impossibly light and buzzed. Without realizing one hand went from his hair to curl itself around the base of his throat. You felt him lean into your hand as his lips descended on your neck as he repeated the harsh grinding of his hips against yours. When you felt him bite down on your shoulder, your hand instinctively squeezed around his throat, you could feel his pulse in your palm, it was fast and it quickened as you squeezed. You felt the bobbing of his adams apple and the vibrations of his groan escaped him, his eyes looking up at you as his large hand grabbed your wrist. Instead of removing your hand, he held it in place. 

“Choke me harder,” His deep voice groaned, “make me see stars, starlight.” 

You complied. 

Your hands grip harshly at his throat, squeezing enough for breathing to become more difficult as he hooks his hands under your ass as he carries you to your shared room. His eyes never leave yours and yours don’t leave him. Even as you're leaving kisses and bites along his lips and his jaw he somehow manages to stumble into your room. It’s only then does he let your feet touch the floor. 

He parts from you only a second, you whine at the loss of contact but quickly shut up as you watch as he practically tore his shirt off of him. You take a moment to admire him, the muscles that ripple and move, the way his skin glowed as his dark curls frame his face as his stubble gave his face more structure. It wasn’t until he fell on his knees in front of you, that you thought he looked all too much like a fallen angel. With a sinful glow to his skin and a simple look of repentance in his eyes. 

You felt powerful as Marc fell to his knees in front of you, his touch light and slow, savoring each inch you were willing to give him as his fingers travel up from your calf to the waistband of your pants. His lips leaving a trail of open mouthed kissing from your navel slowly, agonizingly so, downward. His hands made it to the button of your pants when you placed a hand underneath his chin, forcing him to look at you. Your knees nearly gave out at the look of passion, and silent submission to your whims his eyes gave you. The rush you felt as he inflated your ego was addictive. Your thumb brushed against the bottom of his lip, your toes curled as he gave it a small, wet kiss. 

With never breaking eye contact with you he unbuttons your pants, gently lowering them before completely ridding you of them. You suck in a small intake of breath as his eyes left yours as he kissed your pussy over your already ruined panties. 

“All wet like this for me, starlight.” Marc groaned, rubbing your clothed clit with his fingers.

“Go to hell.” You groaned as he played with you, his fingers dancing over to the sides of your underwear. 

“Why would I do that when I have heaven right here?” You felt the elastic give out as he tore your underwear from your body, before you could act too shocked about it, he tore a pleasured scream from you as he dived right in. his mouth working you expertly, your hands wound themselves in his hair. He licked and sucked on that bundle of nerves, and through your haze you can see his eyes close and it looks like he was eating his favorite meal. Like if he had it his way he would be eating your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Marc guided your legs over his shoulders and before you know it, his hands was supporting your weight as he lifted you in the air once again, you didn’t know if it was because of how easily he seemed to manhandle you or the fact that his tongue was going at your slit with more vigor but you felt a new sense of arousal hit you and the coil started to wind itself up in your core. By now you were a pathetic moaning mess. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, “fuckfuckfuck oh my god right there, fuck me.”  You were barely capable of making a coherent thought let alone a sentence. You almost didn’t notice the soft sheets of your bed hitting you back, but you couldn’t even say anything because if you thought that he was enjoying himself before, he was practically drowning in you now.

Your trembling hands gripped the sheets beside you as Marc lifted your hips upward and he inserted two thick digits into your cunt. No prep, just straight in, filling you and hitting a soft spongy patch in you that made you see white. The combination of him flicking his tongue, his sucking, and the soft graze of teeth on your swollen sensitive bud and his thick, slick covered digits hitting that one spot repeatedly without mercy, and the slight beard burn that his stubble was giving you, it wasn’t long before you were practically convulsing underneath him as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had is ripped right from you. Tears pricked your eyes as you let out the most guttural scream. Your hands practically rip the sheets underneath you as every nerve is sent into overdrive. 

You were still a trembling mess when Marc ripped his fingers from you and licked them clean as though the entire lower half of his face wasn’t glistening with your slick already. 

Right in front of you. 

You could practically hear your heartbeat out your chest as his lips collided with yours, You could taste yourself on his lips and you shuddered. He pressed his forehead against you and merely basked in your afterglow with you. Your hands unclench the sheets as they ghosted downward to where he was still in his pants, you felt the front, a wet patch had developed and yet he was still so painfully hard. Again, this did wonders for your ego as merely eating you had caused him to lose control over himself. You brushed against him when he caught your wrist. Pinning it beside you. 

“You have no idea,” Marc breathed into your neck, “no idea what you do to me.” 

“Then show me,” You said using your free hand to cup his face, “I dare you.” 

The look in his eyes darken as he unpins your other hand before ridding himself of his ruined pants and underwear. Your eyes widened at his size, you don’t remember it ever being that big. But right now it was huge and throbbing, leaking precum,  you weren’t sure if he would fit. 

He rubbed himself against you, gathering whatever slick he hadn’t already lapped up, coating his thick shaft in it. He tapped the swollen head against your over sensitive clit a few times, extracting a choked moan from you before pushing in. Your hands claw at his back, nails leaving bright red streaks against his toned back as he practically bent you in half and split you open. You had never felt so full and your legs were shaking furiously. When he bottomed out he kissed the tears away from your eyes. 

“You’re so good for me starlight,” he praised, “so goddamn good and tight. I fit just right in here, don't I?” You could only dumbly nod as he started slowly thrusting, making each drag and push of his cock in you count. Making you feel the pleasurable burn as you were stretched around him. Then all at once he dragged out, only to slam himself in, you let out the loudest scream you ever have. As he did that repeatedly, his skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, his curls sticking to his forehead and his hot breath mixing with your own. Soon enough the coil began to wind again in your core, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and breathy loud moans filled the room. Marc was practically drilling into you with his brutal pace. You could feel him getting closer with you, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer as his pace became more erratic. 

“Cum in me,” you whisper in his ear as the coil threatens to burst at any minute, “cum in me please pretty boy.”

The sound of the nickname you gave him, combined with your hot breath in his ear and your tight wet heat wrapped around brought about his orgasm as he fiercely thrusted and released deep inside you, which only brought on your own electrifying, toe curling orgasm. If you thought the first one was intense, then this made you see the light. 

He collapsed on top of you, his frame shaking and quivering just as much as you. You instinctively brought your hands to gently comb through his hair as he went limp inside you. Your legs were let down from his shoulders as you both basked in the afterglow of what you had just done. You shushed him, and praised him for how good he did, calling him, pretty boy. Like you did the first time, only this time you both were a little more out of breath. You stifled a laugh as you recalled that semi awkward morning after, but then your heart hurt with how much grief you felt. You missed those people you were then. Even though you were going through immense internal turmoil over your newly realized feelings for him then, you would much rather go through that then what storm your mind was brewing. 

As you comb through his hair you can’t help but wish you could forget, forget what he did and who he’s become. Forget the past three years, like they never existed. And you knew, deep down, you couldn’t pretend like they didn’t happen forever. But right now, with how close he was to, listening to your heartbeat like a sacred prayer, you pretended like none of it never happened as you raked through his damp curls and pretended that instead of your gilded prison, you both were back at that cabin.

After all, you were good at pretending. 

—

After a few more rounds Marc was finally out. You hoped that your legs would be able to carry you where you needed to be. You slipped gently away from his grip, the soft snores that came from his figure let you know he was deep into sleep. You had to use the wall for support but you thanked god you were still able to walk well enough. You gathered the clothes you had snuck away in the bathroom, you didn’t want to wake him up, but you also didn't want to smell him when you left. So you gave yourself a small sponge bath, the rag was cool against your skin, and you hissed slightly as you cleaned your combined juices from you, the area still tender. 

You quickly changed clothes and put on your tennis shoes, they were worn but they didn’t squeak against the floor board. With a slight limp you made your way to the open door of the bedroom, you looked back one last time at his sleeping figure. The moon light in his hair gave him a halo and illuminated how peaceful his features were. Some part of you that was broken and loved him wanted to stay. It broke the piece of you that broke the first time you left. You looked at him once more before making your way to the front door.

Your hand felt the coolness of the handle when you froze, panic started to fill you as your mind raced. What if this was a test? What if Jake was lying to you, could you really trust him?

All these thoughts filled you as you held your breath as you turned the handle. Instead of a blaring alarm, a soft click was heard. You let out a shaky exhale as you opened the door just enough to slip through. After gently closing the door as quietly as possible you ran. Or at least attempted to with your limp and all. You raced down the stairwell, not trusting to take the elevator, You were exhausted but you pushed through. You remember Jake’s instructions, go out the back of the building and sure enough once you reached the ground floor the stairwell exit was right next to the back door. You pushed through the door, and for a split moment you relished the feel of the outside air on your skin. How it’s crisp bite felt and you swore you would never wear a jacket or complain about it ever again. 

You only had a few moments of peace before a familiar motorcycle stopped in front of you and handed you a helmet. 

“An old friend will be waiting downstairs to take you to a safehouse.” 

“Layla?”

TAGLIST:

@simonsbluee

@yuki235171

@dopeqff

@themapoftinyperfectthings

@later-gators12

@lovepeaceorelse

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

The Cafe Pt.2 (Rewritten Barista)

OMG I’m back with the shitty Kamilah fanfiction! I haven’t written for a while - let alone for this series since I took a writing hiatus to focus on my classes so hopefully there aren’t any plot holes and the fic doesn’t suck ass. I’m slowly getting back into my writing but I still have finals (Up until next April 28) but after finals I will be writing more consistently and will finish my current series and WIPs (I will post my WIPs list soon so I can hold myself accountable and also keep track of what I need to work on).

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Word Count: 3682 words (I am trying to write longer fics but I prefer quality > length so I will post when the chapter feel right however I aim for this series chapters to be between 3500-4500 words each) 

Taglist: (I know it’s been a while so if you’d like to be removed from the taglist just let me know - I promise it won’t hurt my feelings that being said if you’d like to be added to the taglist for just this series, my Kamilah x MC taglist or my perma tag - please let me know I’ll be happy to add you if I remember to even tag) @samanthadalton @beautifulandorganized @cloud9in @kwaj115 @hellyeah90sbaby @shows-simp-card @witchesplayatnight

Part I

“It’s...sweet and comforting,” her voice was soft as she spoke, Amy’s cheeks turning very red, “like you.” 

Amy felt on cloud nine, her eyes glued to Kamilah as she watched her walk to her car and speed away like some rich movie character. Amy closed her eyes, replaying the entire scene over and over until the soft jingle of the bell startled her. Zig walked in, his shoulders drooped low as he carried a large duffel bag in his hand as his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You look like shit Zig.” Amy jested before walking to him and taking the duffel bag from him, both of them laughing lightly.

“I guess the tides have changed since we went to Hartfeld yeah?” Amy snickered at Zig’s comment, recalling the time she and her friends had gotten so wasted they streaked through the quad only to be caught by the dean on their way back.

“I assume you’re leaving after your shift?” Amy placed his bag down and tossed him his apron, both of them moving to the front counter as Zig examined the cafe. 

“Yeah, we aren’t technically leaving until tomorrow morning but Kaitlyn wanted to run over some of the more technical things with us. I could probably convince them to let you come, you’d definitely spice things up.” Zig waved his hands in the air and stuck his tongue out as Amy tried to glare at him, before breaking into laughter. 

“And who would watch the cafe? The pigeons? Lily?” 

“You’re right, I still feel bad about leaving on such short notice-”

“I’ve got this Zig, trust.” Amy held her head proud as Zig rolled his eyes, making sure Amy saw him. “Jerk.” She nudged his shoulder as a tall handsome man walked in, it took Amy and Zig a moment to realize who he was as he adjusted his tie. 

“Adrian Raines? CEO of Raine’s corporations?” Zig’s head perked up as he approached the register, his suit was a steel grey, his hair a dark brown that resembled a fresh cup of coffee and his smile was so comforting and infectious Amy couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“You must be Zig,” Adrian reached a hand forward, his teeth were so perfect, so straight and white he could have been in a toothpaste commercial, “and you must be Amy. Kamilah recommended this place. More specifically she recommended your special coffee. I had to come see for myself - she said if she had ordered one for me, it wouldn’t have made it to my office.” His voice was soothing, comforting and satisfying - Amy wanted him to read a bedtime story to her.

Amy’s eyes widened as she felt butterflies in her stomach, her palms growing sweaty as she smiled back at Adrian, his deep brown eyes very similar to Kamilah’s without the intensity. Zig gently tapped her shoulder, nodding towards the coffee machine as he rang Adrian’s drink up.

“Oh! Right!” Amy hustled, she was excited that she had two major CEOs trying her special coffee, it was a subtle flex that she found satisfaction in. She leaned back on the counter as the coffee slowly spilled out of the brewer, the strong smell prompting Adrian to turn for a moment before continuing the conversation with Zig. Amy took a moment to take him in, after all, not everyone gets to be within such a close proximity to a major CEO. Amy hadn’t noticed how muscular he was, his posture was so irritatingly straight, his hands were smaller than she expected and she tried not to laugh upon that discovery. His hair was slickly combed back, and his eyelashes were longer than Amy’s and his body complex was just muscular enough to be seen through the curves of his suit but not so muscular as to resemble Dwayne Johnson. 

“This is a solid set up you’ve got for yourself Zig, you should be proud.” Adrian adjusted his tie to be straighter as Zig rolled his shoulders back with a proud smile on his face.

“It took a lot of work but it’s...something I have wanted since college. I’m sure you understand that feeling since you do run one of the leading technology companies in the world, not even just the United States.” Zig folded his hands into his arms as Adrian turned with a soft gaze, a twinkle in his eyes that Amy couldn’t quite put a pin on.

“Well I’ve had years to grow and create a base for myself, with the connections I have in other industries it was really only a matter of money and finding the right people to work with me.” 

“How long did it take you?” Amy finished his coffee off with a generous serving of caramel and stirred it gently as Adrian blinked at her. 

“A long time, I’m much older than I look.” He laughed and Amy couldn’t help but question why he was so vague, he was only 28 years old according to google. 

“You don’t look a day over 22.” Zig interjected as Adrian and Amy held each other’s gaze, Amy couldn’t help but question his eyes, there was something he wasn’t letting on and she could feel it in her stomach. She handed him the coffee and watched his expression change as the warm liquid met his lips. 

“I can see why Kamilah was so intrigued, this has to be one of the best drinks I’ve ever had.” Adrian’s phone rang with drumming that sounded like it was from a revolutionary war movie. 

“Strange ringtone.” Amy remarked prompting Adrian to smile and shake his head. 

“I love the revolutionary war, the fight for freedom will always be an admirable one.” He smiled at Amy before turning to Zig, “I need to head back to my office but I’ll be sure to invest in this cafe of yours, and for you Amy. Thank you.” He reached into his pocket and handed Amy what appeared to be $300. 

“No wait it was just a cup of coffee!” Amy tried to shove the money back into his hand but Adrian had already dashed out of the door, leaving Zig stunned with a smile and Amy baffled. “What the fuck. I will never understand rich people Zig.” 

“I mean hey, it’s a good tip and you need the money Amy. Now, about you watching the cafe, are you really sure you can handle it alone? It’s a tall order.” Zig furrowed his brows as he scanned the empty cafe, his hand reassuringly placed on Amy’s shoulder. 

“It would actually be a venti order, but I’m sure. You need a break buddy, I can see it in your eyes and you should be there for Kaitlyn and her band.” Amy placed her hand over Zig’s as two women walked through the cafe doors. 

“Alright then, now let’s finish the day.” Zig returned to the register as Amy began fixing the women’s orders. 

The day passed by slower than usual, Amy kept replaying her interactions with Adrian over in her mind, with Kamilah’s earlier remark fading as Amy questioned Adrian’s shadiness. 

“That could not have gone by slower.” Zig let out a long sigh and Amy watched the tension leave his broad shoulders as he locked the front door. “After today I don’t have any more doubts about that trip, I need a break.” 

“That’s all I’ve been saying dumbass, go on. You need to pack and I can clean up here tonight.” Amy joked as Zig looked around nervously.

“Amy this place is a mess, we were so much busier. I can’t leave you to do this by yourself.” Zig reached for the disinfectant wipes as Amy smacked his hand. 

“Get out of here and go pack or you’re straight.” Amy wiggled her brows at Zig who took a step back. 

“Oh fuck off. All the tips from today are yours though. You take all the tips or you’re a vampire lover.” Zig winked at Amy who rolled her eyes and pointed towards the door. Zig stopped and patted her shoulder on his way out. 

“Thank you so much Amy. I’m glad you’re working here and I’m glad we were able to reconnect.” Zig and Amy shared a nod in silence before Zig left the messy cafe to Amy. 

“Now it’s just me I guess. Time to play some music.” Amy smiled and pulled her speaker out of her backpack, putting “Sit Next to Me” by Foster the People on and showly shaking her torso to the beat. She held the broom in her hands and started sweeping to the beat of the song, her head shaking to the rhythm as she sang her heart out. She finished sweeping the floor and began washing the blenders and wiping down the counters, stopping every five minutes to dance to the chorus of whatever upbeat song was playing. 

“She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She’s cheer captain and I’m-” Amy swung her hips around, the washcloth in her hands flying through the air as she swayed her head back and forth like a teenage girl. 

“On the bleachers, dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time.” 

Amy froze like a deer in headlights as she turned to see where the voice came from - Kamilah was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a very amused look on her face as Amy slowly lowered her arms in embarrassment. 

“How much of that did you see?” 

“Oh no don’t let me interrupt you, please keep going.” Kamilah smirked and Amy felt a rush of adrenaline run through her. Instead of stopping and apologizing, she found herself hitting the play button and continued singing and dancing like Kamilah wasn’t even there.

“If you could see that I’m the one who understands you! Been here all along so why can’t you seeeeeeee, you belong with meeeee!”

“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor, all this time how could you not know babyyyy? You belong with meeee.” Amy blinked as Kamilah sang with her, the woman's voice was stunning and left Amy speechless as their eyes met in the dim cafe lighting. The way Kamilah’s voice sounded in combination with the low and heated gaze she had on Amy, it felt like she was just reading her thoughts out loud. In a flash Kamilah was standing in front of Amy, their bodies so close Amy could feel the woman’s warmth and smell her sweet scent as the music faded and Amy lost herself in Kamilah’s brown eyes. 

“You belong with me. Have you ever thought...just...maybe...” Kamilah’s voice slowed from a singing tone to a low whisper, she leaned close as the song came to its end, Amy couldn’t help but sing back to her. 

“You belong with me?” She knew it came out shakily, the subtle smirk on Kamilah’s face said it all as they stayed locked in the moment. Amy knew they weren’t just singing to Taylor Swift’s new album, it was unspoken words between the two of them that neither had the courage to previously say. Amy felt her heart speed up, her palms growing sweaty as she waited to see if Kamilah would sing back to her or not. 

“You belong with me.” Kamilah leaned forward to kiss Amy, both of their eyes fluttering shut as the music stopped and time came to a slow. Amy wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders as their lips almost met, before Amy’s ringtone blared from her backpack causing Kamilah and Amy to jolt apart. 

Amy rushed over to check the call, scanning the screen and reading Lily’s name made her less annoyed that her almost kiss was interrupted, but still not happy. 

“Hey Lil what’s up? Oh yeah, I’m sorry I let Zig get out early so he could pack so I’m not gonna be home til late tonight. I’m so sorry. Yeah. Oh that’s good, I’m glad! You can def tell me about it later. Yeah? Oh yes I gotcha, I’ll venmo you for the rent once I hang up. Yeah okay goodnight Lil.” 

Amy hung up the phone and opened her venmo, sending Lily the $550 for rent, completely ignoring the fact Kamilah had made her way close to her again. As soon as she put her phone back in her bag, Kamilah turned her back around to face her, the woman’s eyes sparkling in the soft lighting that surrounded them. 

“Kamilah, how did you get in here? We’re technically closed and Zig-” Amy was silenced by Kamilah dangling what appeared to be a copy of the cafe key. 

“I helped Zig fund this cafe, I can come and go as I please, I just prefer to make his life easy and stay out of his way. He said you might’ve needed help cleaning up tonight since you let him go, so I came to help you clean, but instead I found you giving a world tour with no audience.” 

Amy felt a blush crawl up her face, her heart pounding so loudly it rang in her ears as she felt Kamilah’s hand on her arm. She pulled her eyes away from Kamilah’s, unsure of if it was because she was embarrassed, scared, flustered or a combination of all three. Kamilah gently placed her index finger under the girl’s chin, softly pulling her to meet her gaze as she spoke slowly.

“You don’t have to kiss me Amy,” her voice was comforting and lacked the iciness it usually carried, “just say the word and I won’t come to the cafe while you’re here alone.” 

“Kamilah...I...it’s not that...it’s just...” Amy stuttered but leaned forward, unable to reach Kamilah’s lips because of her height. Kamilah leaned down, tracing her index finger over Amy’s throat as their lips softly met. Kamilah slowly took Amy’s lower lip in her mouth, sucking on it and prompting a soft moan to escape Amy’s mouth as she draped herself into Kamilah’s arms. Minutes passed by as their mouths remained locked together, only pulling apart so they could finish cleaning. 

“Come on Amy, let’s get this place clean so you can get home.” Kamilah picked up the roll of paper towels and began drying the blenders and stacking them neatly to Amy’s surprise. Kamilah was a powerhouse, which was something Amy had expected from her since she radiated power like a goddess, but it was her ability to clean so damn thoroughly that confused Amy. 

“Kamilah?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to sound rude or anything but-”

“How did I learn to clean so well for an extremely rich person?” 

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t always this wealthy, and I still prefer to clean my own penthouse since there’s certain ways I like my things placed and kept. The safest hands are our own and I like to be self reliant. Cleaning also makes me feel quite liberated and I keep valuable artifacts in my home that I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting anyone else touch.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense. Thank you.” Amy spoke softly as she wiped the last chair down and stacked it. She turned as Kamilah slid her blazer back on and leaned against the door. Amy slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed the leftover pastries from the counter but stopped on her way out as she noticed Kamilah waiting for her by the door. 

“You don’t have to walk me home Kamilah.” 

“It’s 1 am in New York. I wouldn’t let anyone walk home alone at this time, besides it’s safer and I don’t think Zig would forgive me if something happened to you.” Kamilah lowered her voice to a faint whisper that Amy could barely make out. “And I couldn’t forgive myself if I let something happen to you either.”

Amy felt sparks up her body as she let Kamilah hold the cafe door open for her, before they both turned to lock it. 

“Well I’ll let you do that since you’re running this place for the next week.” Kamilah took a step back as Amy shakily locked the cafe up, letting out a relieved sigh. She started walking and felt comforted knowing Kamilah was with her, because she didn’t want to walk home alone in the dark despite her earlier remarks. They walked in silence, Kamilah staying close to Amy as they passed by the food bank, Amy tensing as she passed by the same alley that had haunted her ever since she saw glowing eyes that one time. She hastily made her way into the food bank, dropping the bag off with the receptionist and hurrying out the door to get back before anything else could freak her out. 

“Kamilah, how do you know Adrian?” Amy asked as they walked away from the food bank towards Amy’s apartment. 

“I handle Raines Corporations finances. Raines Corporation does all of their financing through Ahmanet Financial and so we’re good business partners but we found good friendship through the years.” There was something suspicious about the way Kamilah spoke, it gave Amy the same feeling when Adrian was asked about her age but she just could not put a pin on why she had this feeling. “Amy? Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah sorry, my mind went off on a tangent.” Amy stopped at the front of her apartment building, she turned to face Kamilah who basically glowed in the dark. The moonlight illuminated her features, her brown eyes shining brightly and her hair shimmering as Amy felt her breath catch in her throat. “Thanks for walking me home..not that I can’t handle myself but-”

“Of course Amy. See you tomorrow.” Kamilah smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on Amy’s cheek before turning and disappearing into the streets, Amy sighing as she walked through the lobby, getting in the elevator and finally arriving at her apartment door. 

“Hey Amy, how was work?” Lily sat up from the couch, putting her PS4 game on pause as Amy collapsed on the couch next to her. 

“It was alright, I let Zig leave early so he could pack and I was cleaning and totally jamming out and Kamilah saw me but she joined me and we kissed…” Amy giggled as Lily squealed in excitement.

“OHMYGODD what was it like?” Lily perked up like a child ready for a bedtime story, her hands shaking as she waited for Amy to explain.

“Electric. God Lily I don’t even have words for it. My head was spinning and the world just fell away.” Amy swayed back and forth as Lily hugged her. 

“Well maybe you’ll have a date with her soon. Oh, I made beignets tonight, they’re on the counter! Let me get you some!” Lily stood up and rushed away, returning quickly with a beautiful plate of freshly made beignets covered in powdered sugar. 

“I swear you’re the best suitemate ever. Absolutely unparalleled.” Amy bit into one of the sweets, savoring the softness and sweetness of the perfect sweet treat. “God Lily this has to be your best recipe yet!” 

“Girllll no way, I saw this recipe for key lime pie that I’m dying to try this week.” Lily exclaimed as she pulled up the recipe on her phone, Amy taking another beignet from the plate. 

“You should go to a baking school or something Lily. Maybe open a bakery?” Amy suggested as Lily passionately explained the process of baking her favorite desserts. “Maybe you could bake for the cafe?”

“Nah, this is a hobby. I want to finalize my website for my computer business this week. But that’s a nice suggestion.” Lily stifled a yawn at the same time Amy did, both of them laughing at each other. 

“Damn so we’re both two tired dumbasses. It’s 3 am...we should get some sleep.” Lily suggested as Amy realized she’d only be getting a few hours of sleep. 

“You’re right. Do we have any energy drinks in the fridge though? I’m gonna need one before work.” 

“Yeah I bought more redbull and monster so you can take your pick, but I’m gonna crash harder than windows so g’night Amy.” Lily shuffled to her room as Amy did the same - collapsing in her bed and savoring the few hours of sleep she was going to get. 

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

Amy arrived at the cafe 20 minutes before opening time, her bag in one hand and a redbull in the other as she unlocked the cafe. She put her bag down and started the opening process, the redbull slowly kicking in as the time passed by quickly. Just as she finished counting in on the register, the door jingled open and Kamilah stepped through the cafe doors. 

“Good morning Amy.” She smiled at her with those perfectly straight teeth and that damn irresistible smile. 

“Good morning Kamilah, here’s your coffee. Both ways.” Amy handed the cups to Kamilah, their fingers gently brushing during the exchange.  

“Amy...about last night…” Kamilah spoke softly, gently, in a sweet voice that Amy never expected from her. 

“Oh...did...you want to forget it?” Amy’s heart dropped, a deep pain forming in her stomach as she awaited Kamilah’s response. 

“No. I...I enjoyed it a lot.” Kamilah’s tone changed from sweet and confident to a shy and lower voice - was she flustered? 

“So did I...maybe...well if you have time tonight maybe we can do it again?” Amy suggested as she wiped the counter down. 

“I’ll be here.” Kamilah smiled, their eyes meeting for a moment before the jingling of the door interrupted their moment. “See you later Amy.” Kamilah waved as she left the cafe. 

The day passed by achingly slow, but eventually after several strange tik tok orders, a bunch of big wall street assholes and a few sweet customers the cafe was ready to close. Amy began cleaning the cafe, starting with just wiping the blenders clean as the door jingled, Amy turned and expected to see Kamilah - but it wasn’t Kamilah in the doorway. 

[ilovefandoms102]

As Long as You Love me-Part 3

Pairing: Rudy Pankow x Plus Size Reader

Summary: A new chapter for Rudy and Y/N begins, will they be able to overcome the hardships with a wedding, and a baby on the way?(sequel to SOMH)

Note: Heart breaking cliff hanger ahead...also I know this doesn’t go with the timeline like at all but leave me alone this is a made up story ok(:

Also I’m still going through TT asks so don’t fret ya nasties, jkjk I love y’all and hope you enjoy!

Part 2 Part 4

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

“BABY!” Rudy shouted, sprinting through the house to find me.

“What?” I asked, a spoon that previously had my favorite ice cream hanging from my mouth.

“Season 2 was approved,” he yelled, jumping around like a kid on Christmas.

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” I beamed, giggling when Rudy spun me around.

“I need you to help me film the announcement.” he said, rushing me up the stairs.

“You’re gonna have to shave,” I pouted, reaching a hand out to feel his facial hair. 

“Say goodbye,” he chuckled, laughing when I kissed all over his face, and I made sure to rub my cheeks against his. 

“Even the baby said he doesn’t want his daddy to shave.” I whined dramatically.

“Awww I’m sorry bubba, daddy will grow it back.” he cooed, both of us laughing at our goofiness. 

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

“Why aren’t you packing?” Rudy asked, squinting as I laid stretched out on our bed.

“I’m not going,” I sighed, rubbing my belly.

“WHAT?!” he boomed, whipping around quickly.

“Rudy who knows when you’ll be done filming, the baby could come by then, and I don’t want to have a newborn down there.” I explained, turning my head to look at his distraught expression.

“I don’t like the thought of you being here on your own, you need to come with me.” he argued, throwing the clothes he had in hand down in his suitcase. 

“What am I supposed to do? Sit around all day? I won’t have a car and I’m not Ubering by myself.” I scoffed.

“I’m sure you could come with us, baby please just think about it.” Rudy said, leaning his head down by mine. 

“I don’t have a doctor down there for my regular appointments.” I pointed out. 

“There’s doctors in Charleston babe.” Rudy rolled his eyes, moving his head to lay it on my belly. 

“There’s also the fact that I can’t just up and leave my job for however many months.” I said, sifting my hands through his hair. 

“Take a leave of absence,” he shrugged, moving his hands around on my baby bump to listen to the baby move. 

“Sweetheart I’ll be fine here, I know you worry about us, but I have responsibilities here.” I spoke softly.

“You can’t be here all alone, just come with me. Please?” he begged, crawling on top of me to lay his head on my chest.

“I can’t Ru,” I giggled, leaning down to kiss his pouting lips.

“I seriously don’t want you here alone, it’d be different if we lived in Alaska or even back at your apartment because there’s people we know around you. All the people we know here will be gone, you’re not staying here.” Rudy rambled, anger rising in his tone.

“Rudy! I don’t want to be bored and lonely for however long you’re going to be down there.” I huffed.

Rudy stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, hoisting myself up to waddle after him. I understood where he was coming from, but I didn’t want to leave my home. I’m a homebody, I always have been. I didn’t like to leave my house unless I absolutely had to. I found him in the kitchen, furiously washing dishes.

“Ru,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his middle. 

“I’m afraid...I’m afraid something is going to happen to you or the baby, and I won’t be here.” he confessed, sighing deeply as he turned in my hold. 

“I know baby, but I will be ok. The baby isn’t due for another five months.” I said as I got to my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

“Anything could happen in those five moths my love.” he mumbled, caressing my cheek as he stared into my eyes. 

“I know, but I will be extra careful. I promise.” I smiled, puckering my lips so he would give me a kiss. He obliged of course, but didn’t just stop at one.

Rudy was more determined to prove that I needed him around, which I knew was 75% true, but I would never tell him that. I was going to prove that I was fine on my own, even if deep down I didn’t want to be without him. This led me to now as I stood in our kitchen, struggling to reach a cup on one of the higher shelves in the cabinet.

“Dammit,” I hissed, standing on my tiptoes.

“Need some help my love?” Rudy asked, smirking as I struggled.

“No,” I grunted, walking over to drag a chair to the counter. Rudy gasped when I climbed on top of it, rushing over to me.

“Baby!” he shouted, holding my hips as I reached for the cup.

“Got it,” I smiled, laughing at his angry expression. 

“You are just trying to give me a heart attack,” he grumbled, slapping my ass which made me laugh harder.

Another instance I was in the shower, happily minding my own business when my bottle of soap fell off the shelf and landed right on my foot.

“Son of a bitch!” I gritted out.

“What the hell happened?” Rudy questioned, opening the shower door.

“I’m fine, just broke my fucking toe.” I hissed, going to pick it up.

“Let me get it,” he rushed, hopping in the shower with me.

“You’re getting your clothes all wet babe!” I laughed.

“Guess I should take them off then hmmm?” he smirked, slowly stripping himself.

“You only came in here to get some, not even to help your pregnant fiance.” I tutted, shaking my head in mock disappointment. 

“My pregnant fiance dropped that soap on purpose to get me in here to give her some.” he grinned, walking me back against the cold tile. 

“That’s an awful accusation Mr. Pankow,” I murmured, staring down at his lips.

“I think you need to be punished for that future Mrs. Pankow,” Rudy smiled, wrapping his hand around my throat to pull me to his lips.

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

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Rudy asked for the tenth time in five minutes.

“Yes honey, we will be just fine. If anything changes, I will let you know.” I chuckled as we stood at the front of the security check.

Rudy brought me into his arms, rocking us back and forth. I took in his scent, ingraining it into my memory. I didn’t know when we would be able to see each other again, but I hoped it wasn’t too long because we both didn’t want to miss any milestones of my pregnancy together. He pulled away slightly, bending down to kiss my belly.

“Alright little guy, I need you to be good to momma ok? I love both of you so much.” he spoke softly, my heart fluttering in my chest when he kissed my belly.

 Rudy came back up to his full height, taking my face in his hands to smash his lips to mine. I threw my arms around his neck, taking one hand to pull his hair lightly. His hands traveled further to give my ass a playful squeeze, my hands immediately grabbing his to pull them away. We laughed into each other’s lips, leaving sweet kisses on random patches of skin. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” I mumbled.

“I love you,” he smiled, caressing my cheek.

“I love you more Ru,” I whispered.

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

A week later, I was sent a post from a fan account. Nothing new, I was sent stuff all the time, but this one caught my attention. I hadn’t checked anything on Instagram today, so I clicked on the link to JD’s dad’s post. There was a picture of Rudy, JD, and fucking Elaine in a living room. The caption read ‘roommates’, and I saw red.

Hell. Fucking. No.

I called Maddie B, seething as I paced around my house.

“Hey girlie,” she greeted.

“Was no one going to tell me that Elaine is staying in the establishment as Rudy?” I griped.

“What? I didn’t even know that.” she gasped.

“Someone sent me JD’s dad’s post with all of them looking cozy in their apartment.” I growled, rifling through my closet for my suitcase.

“What are you doing? I can hear you shuffling shit.” she asked.

“I’m buying the next ticket over there Madison. She is not about to make a move on my baby daddy and not suffer the consequences.” I spoke angrily, shoving clothes in the bag. 

“Ok, ok calm down. Let’s think about this.” Maddie B soothed.

“Already thought it over, I’ll be there in the next 24 hours.” I hissed, hanging up the phone. I called Rudy immediately after, holding the phone to my ear. 

“Hi honey, everything ok?” he asked, worry taking over his tone.

“Yeah I’m good, but I changed my mind. I want to stay with you while you film, I don’t like being by myself, and you were right if something does happen I won’t have anyone with me.” I said, no way I was going to tell him the real reason I was flying over.

“That’s fine my love, I’ll talk to them about getting us our own apartment. I’ve been sharing one with JD and his dad. It’s been great, but I miss holding you and feeling the baby.” he confessed, a small smile gracing my lips.

“Awww baby, I miss you, but I’ll be there within the next 24 hours. I’m booking the plane ticket now, I love you.” I spoke softly, imagining his blushing cheeks and his eyes lighting up the times we had been apart only to meet again. 

“Love you baby,” he murmured, both of us hanging up at the same time.

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

 I didn’t expect to be crying when I arrived, my heart torn into a million pieces. I had Rudy’s post notifications on, so when I saw he had posted something on his story, of course I clicked to see. I was horrified to see a picture of Elaine, then in the next one, a video of them shooting some kind of nerf gun to see who could make the shot. I almost dropped my phone, anger and sadness surging through me. 

Rudy was filming today, so he had sent someone to pick me up. I sat and mulled over my thoughts, wondering why...why he would post something with her when he hardly posts stuff of me. I looked down at my slightly protruding belly, mindlessly feeling around it. I knew Rudy loved me, I knew he did, but if he was going to constantly forgive Elaine and want her in our life...I wasn’t sure if I could go through with this. 

I went to the apartment Rudy had got for us, not bothering to unpack since I didn’t think I’d be staying here tonight. I sat on the couch and cried, wondering what was so wrong with me that Rudy was constantly going back to her. I wondered if he wished she was having his child instead of me. Rudy walked in a few hours later, smiling at my bags sitting by the door before his eyes came to me.

“Baby, what’s wrong?!” he asked, rushing over to me. 

“Do you not care at all about our relationship Rudy...our ENGAGEMENT?!” I exclaimed, his face furrowed up in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Rudy questioned, but then something clicked as his face softened with realization.

“Yeah, I saw your story. You know what she’s capable of Rudy, time and time again she has tried to come between us. Did you not think how this would make me feel?” I hissed, standing up from the couch to pace the living room. 

“We’re all just good friends, you’re overthinking this way too much.” he sighed, rubbing his face.

“No I’m not Rudy, you hardly ever post shit with me, so what makes her so special?” I growled.

“Honey it was just-” he started.

“No Rudy, if she was really your friend, then she wouldn’t constantly go out of her way to break us apart.” I shouted, making my way towards the door. 

“That’s not what’s going on, I love you!” Rudy exasperated, following after me. 

“If you wanna be with her so bad, give her this for me.” I seethed, yanking my engagement ring off and throwing it at him. His eyes went wide as he somehow caught it with both hands. 

“My love, your hormones are out of whack, let’s just calm down-” he spoke softly. 

“I want her nowhere near me, I didn’t want her near you, and she’s not to come even close to my baby.” I raged, gripping the door handle.

“Our baby,” he muttered.

“You wanna be with her so bad, he’s my baby.” I laughed humorlessly, yanking open the door. I left Rudy standing there with the most heartbreaking expression I had ever seen.

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

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[wayward-mikaelson]

Winter’s Doll--Chapter One

Word Count: 3105

About: A new recruit joins the team

Characters: Nadia “Nadie” Alekiev, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Nikola Alekiev, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Bucky Barnes, 

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, a little bit of angst, mention of death, flashback

A/N: There are some Bulgarian phrases such as Baba (grandmother)...,I used google to help me with these, and if I messed something up and you are familiar with these phrases please let me know. I am trying to just keep it simple since my character has Bulgarian background but isn’t fluent with the language except for a few phrases. 

*This work contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd.

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me credit. I work really hard on all my and would hate to have them stolen.

***This work is also posted on Instagram (only an excerpt), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own. Go show it some love over there.

****Go follow my other accounts. You can find the links in my pinned post in my profile.

*****Currently NOT taking any requests.

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Today was the day and Nadia Alekiev wasn’t nearly awake enough to take on the day. She was going to need all the caffeine she could get her hands on. Nadia had been awake since two in the morning wrecked with nerves and excitement. Maybe even fear, since this was such a huge step for Nadia. Every meditation technique she tried, it wouldn’t help her go back to sleep. So Nadia spent her time going over her ‘New Recruit’ packet. The packet was actually a binder that was super detailed. Whoever wrote it really wanted to make sure the reader knew what they were getting into.

Nadia was only allowed to pack one small suitcase of clothes and personal belongings. Everything else, would be boxed up by agents and donated while her small apartment would be listed as a safe house. Something that was hard for Nadia to agree to but, she had been trying to get into the Avenger program for two nearly years. So, she reluctantly signed it all over. Anything to get into the program, right?

As Nadia pulled a decent sized suitcase from her closet, a small shoe box fell to the floor. The contents spilled to the floor. Smiling ever so small, Nadia picked it up and stuffed the small contents back into the box. Nadia almost forgot that she had it stashed up there. It would now be accompanying her to the compound where she would now be living. The box was all Nadia had left of her dead brother.

Right on schedule, a knock came at her door. Zipping up the suitcase and slinging a bag over her shoulder, Nadia took one final look around her apartment before opening the door. This place had been her home for the last decade and had so many happy and painful memories.

When Nadia opened the door there stood a woman with shoulder length red hair and a serious look on her face. “Nadia Alekiev?” she asked, her green eyes were impossible to read. Her voice was professional yet slightly intimidating.

“That’s me,” Nadia gave a small smile shifted on her feet. She hoped to feel less intimidated by the woman standing in front of her.

“I’m Natasha, I’ll be taking you back to the compound while these two gentlemen,” Natasha gestured to two men dressed in black and wearing super dark sunglasses. They, too, were also intimidating. “Take care of the rest of your apartment. Shall we get going?” Down to business, Nadia thought. She nodded.

Natasha lead Nadia to a nice black SUV where the window tinting was just about almost illegal. Placing the suitcase in the backseat of the vehicle, Nadia got into the front seat and buckled in tightly. Natasha looked like one of those women that have a heavy foot.

Once on the road, the nerves started back up again. Nadia crossed her ankles and began to twiddle her thumbs. From the corner of her eye she saw Natasha’s green eye’s zero in on her actions. Nadia crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the road in front of her. She hoped the nerves would calm down. She felt Natasha’s expression on her get hard and her eyebrows furrow.

“How much sleep did you get?” Natasha’s voice was soft. It helped Nadia relax some.

“Not much,” Nadia replied. “Is it that obvious?” she then asked looking toward the woman at the wheel.

Natasha quickly flashed a questionable like smile her way. There was also a sparkle in her eyes. “It’s my job to notice just about everything in my surroundings, Ms. Alekiev.”

Nadia looked down and started to twiddle your fingers again. Great, she thought, my first day and I look tired as fuck. She watched as her fingers played with each other taking her diamond-ruby ring off her finger and putting it back on and repeating the action again. The ring was given to her by her brother before his death.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha’s voice had Nadia look up. “With experience like yours, you would have had no issues getting into any program. Why the two years?”

Nadia turned her head back toward the red head. “Experience like mine?” She asked.

“I’ve seen your file,” Natasha gave a fast look at Nadia then her gaze snapped back to the highway in front of her. “You could have gone anywhere. Why the top?”

Nadia took a deep breath and straightened up. No one asked her that questions before. Not even during the brutal interview process she had endured the week before. She licked her lips before responding. “I believe I have a skill set that is worthy to help out the Avengers. I have combat experience and I am quick on my feet.” And my brother died two years ago in a bombing that had the military discharging me faster than anything without reason, Nadia wanted to say. But she didn’t think that something that personal would have mattered.

What happened next, was fast.

From the corner of Nadia’s eye, she saw Natasha’s free hand snap from her lap. Nadia’s instincts kicked into hyper drive. She twisted the upper half of her body to grab Natasha’s hand. She bends it back, causing her to drop the guns she had drew. Nadia picked up the gun and pointed it at Natasha’s head. The SUV hadn’t even swerved an inch off the road.

“Good, you are quick on your feet,” Natasha said calmly. “Well, quick to think on your ass.” She gave a sly smirk. “I like you.”

Nadia did lower the weapon in her hand. “What the fuck?! So that was a test?” she asked, her voice rose an octave. The adrenaline was acing through her veins and her heart beat a million times a second. “I could have shot you!”

Natasha’s teeth flashed when she smiled at her confused passenger. “But you didn’t and you passed.” Nadia lowered the weapon and slowly handed it back the woman in the driver seat. If she wasn’t a wake before, she sure was now.

They arrived at the compound twenty minutes later. Nadia was still on her adrenaline high while her entire stomach was being attacked by butterflies. At least she hoped it was butterflies. Nadia slid out of the vehicle and looked at the huge building in front of her. This was actually happening, she thought. I’m finally here. She pulled her suitcase from the back and followed Natasha inside the front doors.

“Welcome,” a voice said coming from the left. Nadia stopped in her tracks and watched as Captain America, himself, approached them. Wearing a dark tactical suit that defined his muscles better than his normal tact suit. Then the beard he had almost took up his face. That made Nadia weak in the knees. “You must be our newest member. Steve Rogers.” Steve held his hand out and Nadia took it and gave the super soldier a firm handshake. Oh thank God, she thought, I didn’t pass out.

“Nadia Alekiev,” she replied. “This place looks incredible.” Nadia gestured to the whole room around them.

“It is pretty amazing is it?” Steve crossed his arms. The muscles began to pull at the seams of his tact suit. “I’ll let Agent Romanov show you to your room. We have a meeting at noon in the conference room. Don’t be late.” With that Steve walked away leaving Nadia and Natasha alone.

“Alright,” Natasha motioned for Nadia to follow her again. “Let’s get you to your room. You can rest up and shower there. I’ll come back for you at eleven forty-five to show you where the conference room is. There will also be food and coffee there. Something Steve had done to make sure the team showed up.”

Natasha lead Nadia down to the living quarters and showed her around. It was furnished beautifully with nice furniture that looked like it cost hundreds of dollars. The kitchen and dining area was huge as well. In the far off left corner of the dining area was a fully stocked bar. Complete with bar counter and bar stools. Nadia already saw herself sitting there on the rough days.

“Food is first come and first serve, unless it’s marked down with a name,” Natasha said as she kept walking. Nadia was almost having a hard time keeping up with her as Natasha walked fast and with purpose. “Now here,” She continued back into the large living room. “This is where we all gather for Steve’s boring historical movie nights or Tony’s last minute game nights or whatnot. To the right, are the women’s rooms and to the left are the mens rooms.”

Before Nadia could get a word out, Natasha started her way towards the women’s rooms. “Um, Agent Romanov,” saying her name felt weird coming out of her mouth.

“Please, call me Natasha,” Natasha didn’t look back.

“Okay, Natasha, is the separation to help from other team members from sleeping with each other or something?” The moment Nadia asked that question, Natasha stopped at a room and unlocked it.

“Sort of,” Natasha pushed open the door and looked back at Nadia. “Not since Vision though. He walks through just about anything. But we keep our side cleaner than the boys. Unless your Steve. Steve’s sort of a neat freak. Now,” Natasha gestured into the room. “This will be your room. You have your own personal full bathroom. Bed is made of memory foam. Those guys from your apartment will be by later today to drop off whatever they could fit into a few boxes.”

Nadia’s head snapped towards the red head. “I thought I couldn’t have that stuff anymore? Fury told me nothing more than a bag or two.”

Natasha smiled. “Lucky, you have a team member like me who can pull strings and put the fear of God into anyones eyes.” The look in Natasha’s eyes had Nadia making a mental note to not get Natasha’s bad side. “Alright, this is where I leave you. Shower, relax, I’ll be by to get you at eleven forty-five.” With that, Natasha left Nadia in her room, closing the door behind her.

Nadia looked around at the lightly furnished room. It was very modern with some paintings here and there. It left a lot of room for personal decorating. Nadia wondered what of her belongings would make it and which ones wouldn’t. A lot of personal things Nadia owned were stored at her parents farm house. Gosh, Nadia thought, I haven’t spoken to my parents in almost a year.

Nadia set her things on the bed before checking out the bathroom. It was slightly bigger than her old bathroom at her apartment. The bathtub was separate from the shower. Something Nadia liked a lot since she wasn’t much of bath type of person. The cabinets were stock with top of the line towels and when Nadia touched them, they were softer than anything she had touched before.

Stripping down, Nadia decided to try out the shower. She flipped the water on and adjusted the temperature to what she liked. The pressure of the water hit her skin just right. It was super relaxing. Nadia slide down and sat with her knees to her chest. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

***

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nadia said to her brother as she peeked out the window. “I’m staying here until you can prove that what you said is right.”  

“When I have ever said anything that wasn’t true?” her brother looked up from the computer he was trying to get into. “Aside from the time I had you convinced you were actually speaking Bulgarian.”

“I still don’t forgive you for that one, Nikola,” Nadia gave a teasing smirk. “Baba look so confused as I tried to tell her about my runaway turtle.”

Nikola laughed. “Baba wanted to have Mom’s head on a platter because her grandchildren weren’t well versed in the Bulgarian language.”

Nikola went back to work on to hacking into computer in front of him. He had to prove to his sister that the government that they had signed their lives over to were selling off elite soldiers to underground domestic terrorist groups. Nikola knew that once he and Nadia had that information it would be time to fall off the radar and run.

“Nadie,” Nikola called his sister by her nickname. Nadia didn’t know that night it would be last she heard it. “If anything were to happen tonight, I need you to know that I am right about all of this.”

***

Nadia woke up in the shower. The water was still hot, but one look at her fingertips, Nadia knew that she had been in the shower longer than she should have been. Turning the water off and grabbing a towel, Nadia wrapped herself up and walked out into your room. You saw the clock on the wall, eleven thirty.

“Wow,” Nadia spoke to herself. “I was in there for a few hours.” She unzipped her suitcase, pulled out a decent shirt and jeans and threw them on. Then she quickly brushed through her hair and threw it up into a hair band. By the time she was finished, it was eleven forty-five. Perfect timing.

Nadia made her way towards the door and when she opened it there stood Natasha. “Very impressive,” she said smirking. “I also see that you got some rest. How do you feel?”

Nadia followed Natasha through the living quarters back to the main part of the compound. “Better than this morning to be honest,” Nadia said as she was now able to keep up with Natasha.

The two of them walked into the conference room. Three of the four walls were all glass, but not just any kind of glass, the strong kind that would most likely need a tank missile to break it. Just like Natasha had said earlier, there sat coffee on at a small coffee bar. Nadia went straight towards it poured herself a cup.

As she turned around she saw some people make their way into the room. They grabbed their coffee or food. Nadia recognized Tony Stark, as we took three muffins from the food tray and at at the table. A ginger haired woman saw Nadia and smiled at her as she patted the spot next to her. Nadia made her way over to the woman and sat next to her.

“I’m Wanda,” the woman said. “You must be Nadia.”

“How?” Nadia started to ask until she heard the chair next to her move and somebody occupy it.

“Wanda, here, she can read minds and move things with her mind and do this weird red light thingy.” It was a male. “It scares me sometimes, honestly. I’m Clint, the bow and arrow guy.” He reached his hand out and Nadia shook it.

“Weren’t you supposed to be heading home back to your family?” Wanda asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that was until Cap said I needed to stay until after the meeting and now I see why,” Clint took a bite of his muffin.

Nadia smiled some and turned to see Steve walk in, he had changed into a dark t-shirt and jeans. The person who walked in with him was just slightly taller than him. His hair was shoulder length and Nadia couldn’t help but notice that his left arm was completely made of metal. The way he smiled and nodded when Steve said something had Nadia mesmerized.

When he turned away from Steve his eyes locked with Nadia’s. His bright, clear blue eyes stared into her dark brown eyes. The smile that had been on his face, slowly faded as he lost himself in her look. Nadia felt like her breathing caught in her chest when this mans eyes slowly looked her over. Steve then tapped the mans shoulder and said something to him and he made his way to an empty chair. The man looked again at Nadia who gave him a small smile before looking down at the coffee that sat in front of her.

“Okay,” Steve’s voice was loud and firm. “As you all know, we recruited a new team member. Some of you already met her already or saw her as you walked in. She’s ex-military, special ops. Very well versed in hand to hand combat.”

“She’s also very quick to think,” Natasha threw in. Nadia thought back to when Natasha drew a gun on her earlier that day.

“Nat, please tell me you didn’t,” Steve’s voice trailed off and Nadia looked up to see him with a hand over his face. Nadia also didn’t miss that the man next to Steve still looked at her.

“Oh I did,” Natasha said. “She passed that part. Now to see her in a combat like situation.” Natasha leaned her arms on the table and her green eyes looked deep in Nadia’s.

“Okay, well, “Steve shuffled the papers in front of him then looked up at Nadia. “Avengers, this is Nadia Alekiev. Nadia, this is the team. Now, since today is a free day, we won’t have you show off your skill set.” Steve looked at Clint and then back at Nadia, “Well, maybe two hours with Clint before he goes.” Nadia saw Clint throw his head back next to her.

“Alright,” Clint finished his muffin. “But you owe my kids a laser tag game.”

“And I,” Nadia eyed Tony Stark getting up from his seat to snag more muffins from the counter. “I will have Pepper arrange a nice little welcoming party for Miss Alexis.”

“Alekiev, Mr. Stark.” Nadia said as she straightened her back. “I know it’s hard to pronounce, you can thank my Bulgarian parents for that. Next time just call me Nadie.”

“Mmm,” Tony looked over at Steve was eyeing the situation. Tony looked back at Nadia and took a bite of the muffin in his hands. “You know what,” he said with his mouth full. “I’m going to call you Alexis from now.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Nadia rose an eye brow and smirked at Tony. Tony gave a small huff and walked out. Nadia followed with her eyes and didn’t miss the attractive small smile on the man with the metal arm who still looked at her.

Steve ended the meeting shortly after that. Clint stood up and with his hands on his hips he said “Let’s get this over with or my wife will find a way to kick my ass.”

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (XIV)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

(Chapter XIV/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

Well for some reason I can't post the entire fic on here so you guys will have to read it on AO3. This sucks but not much I can do about it. Enjoy!

Taglist:

@freedom-for-bum @reallyfuckingangrylatina @risarisarisaa @ashherssss @mels-heart @xa-dia @shanty-lol @amkxh @chims-kookies @fantasticapple @thalia-luna-hawthorn @skzero-99 @marvelobsessedteen

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

You understood your reasoning for being here, but the glares all around you were suffocating. Their eyes were nooses as most of them were centered on the shimmering gold wrapped around your neck.

Katsuki was to the right of you, hunched as he sat in a pretzel, arm propped up on his thigh with his head resting on his knuckles. His eyes were blank, like he had receded into his mind from the moment the woman kneeling in front of him began to speak. He was actually listening, but he would rather be somewhere else than here. Mitsuki was on his right, listening to the woman intently, nodding and giving sharp hums while she complained about the issues she was having. She asked for advice, looking to Mitsuki and Katsuki and not even acknowledging your presence. You noticed that most wolves in the pack did that. They would rather pretend you weren’t there than get angry at their future pack leader’s fiancée.

“I don’t fucking know… Uhh…” Katsuki sighed, not taking note of the glare Mitsuki sent him. She slammed her fist against his head and immediately, he barked, fangs bared, “what the hell is wrong with you, you old hag!?”

“Show some fucking respect! I’m sorry he’s still learning. It’s reasons why he’s not ready to take over,” her last words were towards the woman who just uneasily smiled at the both of them. Katsuki sucked his teeth.

It was necessary for Katsuki to get used to handling issues within the pack as future leader, so Mitsuki would force him to attend these sessions with the pack to mend some problems they may have. Mitsuki also thought it would be good if you attended to get an understanding on how things ran in the pack. You agreed but you were perhaps starting to regret it, having some wolves look at you with every intent to hurt you if it weren’t for your relationship with Katsuki hurt. It was starting to feel a little bleak, especially since they were only talking to Katsuki and Mitsuki.

“Thank you, thank you so much, pack leader!” The woman gave a small bow after Mitsuki shared some thoughtful advice and soon, a young wolf, a teenager maybe, replaced her. He already had a scowl on his face when he sat in front of Katsuki, but his glare was towards you.

“I have a problem, future leader!” He hissed. Katsuki groaned, knowing where this was going.

“What is it?”

“I have a problem that you’re taking that human to be your wife!” Called it. Katsuki rolled his eyes and for the umpteenth time today, your heart pained within your chest. This wasn’t the first time today someone complained about this and you had lost count. “I suggest that you reconsider!”

“And I suggest you get the hell out of my face with that request. Don’t waste my time asking for something that isn’t going to happen.”

“But how can you do this to us? Don’t you understand that this is hurting the pack? Marrying a human—the enemy,” you frowned and looked away from him when he pointed at you. “What is so good about her that you can’t find within our pack?! We have plenty of women who are—”

“Listen here, you brat, I don’t know if you’re going through your angsty teenage hormones or something where you think you can just sit here and disrespect me and my woman but I won’t hesitate to put you in your fucking place,” Katsuki’s expression darkened, his words spoken through a snarl that made the tiny hairs on your arms stand. And you could tell it affected the young wolf similarly as his wolf ears went back. Mitsuki observed quietly, for reasons you guessed was because she wanted to see how he would handle things.

“But future leader…!”

“I don’t wanna hear it! Just get out of my sight!”

“How could you… I… I looked up to you and—to see you betray us like this.”

“I’m not betraying anyone. I don’t know where you guys got that idea from.”

“You’re marrying a human—they—they killed my parents—they…”

“But I’m not them,” you suddenly spoke up, unable to hold your tongue any longer. “Why must you guys hold me accountable for people I don’t even know? I have nothing to do with your parent’s death or any abuse that the pack had suffered from humans. I… I’m with Katsuki because I love him. I understand that my species caused you pain… and I’m sorry for everything that you went through, but I really ask for you guys to not compare me to every human who had done wrong.”

“See? You heard her? Get your heads out of your asses and listen up! Whether you guys like it or not, I’m marrying her! I don’t give a fuck about what any of you guys think and if you guys don’t like that, you could leave for all I care!” Katsuki waved his arm harshly as if to tell all of them to leave. “If the rest of you guys are here to complain about my woman, then return to your duties or whatever the hell you guys were doing!” Seeing more than half the crowd in front of you leave was heartbreaking, including the teenage wolf who gritted his teeth and stormed off. Katsuki continued to listen to the issues of other wolves without batting an eye at what just happened but you couldn’t handle sitting there anymore. The fact that more than half the crowd left because they were about to complain about your relationship with Katsuki made you once again feel like an outsider.

Continue on AO3

[hobiichu]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟎.𝟎 –kth

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ⇁ Post break up sucks, you’ve been moping around the apartment for days and your friends are over it. Your best friend did an oopsie behind your back...

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ⇁ Taehyung x Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 ⇁ Fluff(?) Super tiny angst, can’t tell even if you squint

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ⇁ None yet

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ⇁ 1.3k

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You look look at the digital clock hanging up your beige walls.

Exactly an hour till 12 am.

Today marks the 29th day of being single, —30 in an hour. It also marks the day of you moping around like the most hopeless, homeless person for a month, it doesn’t help that you actually look like a Hobo. A month and 3 days ago, you found out that your then Boyfriend, Jace was cheating on you. Worse, you had to find it out through a mutual friend you and Jace shared. You had been dating him for approximately 8 months, things were going pretty smoothly if you were to say. Or so you thought. He had been seeing not one, not two, but three.

Three. Fucking. People.

You really didn’t see it coming, you thought he was a genuinely guy, looking to settle down at the ripe age of 26. Not only did that son of an ass cheated on you, you found out that he’s name isn’t even Jace. You fell into a Romance Scam, apparently. Fortunately for him but unfortunately for you, you were a hopeless romantic and safe to say, you fell in love with him. With a love scammer.

The irony.

You being you, instead of breaking up, firsts things first you decided to stay with him for another 3 days. For what you asked? Only god know. When you finally grew a pair, and brought up the subject of leaving his ass at the dinner table, he pulled a reverse uno card on you and decided he wants to break up with you and took the savings account you had opened for the relationship, for the possible marriage you had discussed. Now you are broke. Actually broke. A month later, you are still not over the fact that not only you got your heart broken, by a scammer, but you lost the money you have worked so hard on to provide for him and the marriage you thought would happen. As those memories came flooding, so did your tears. You were bawling by the time you realised the waterworks had started. Hearing your ugly sobs, the door the your room flew open and your best friends came running towards you.

“Y/n? What’s going on?”

“Did you suddenly remember how bad sex was, or how ugly he is again?”

You sobbed even harder.

“That, and my money” you wailed. “Why me, why am I so unlucky. I’ve always been unlucky, but why me I only asked to be in love, this world hates me” You clutched onto your blanket like a small child searching for comfort.

Your best friend, Xandra looks at you with compassion while stroking the tears away from your face, “Don’t worry babe, Jungkook’s already working on tracking down his nasty ass, we’ll get him and we’ll send him to jail, promise” With that you looked at her with big hopeful eyes —teary eyes, bottom lips jittering.

“Really?”

Jungkook strokes your hair, smiling fondly at your state, “Yes really, I promise I’ll do everything it takes to get your money back and send his ugly ass to jail” you held out your pinky waiting for him to seal his promise.

You and Xandra grew up together, literally. You had been friends since the day you were born, due to the fact that your parents were best friends, so ultimately you and Xan grew up the closest of friends. At 18, both of you decided to pack up and leave home, for bigger and better things. So move did you. You met Jungkook in freshman year of high school, ever since then, the three of you were known to be The Three Musketeers. You never left each other, that is until the day you and Xandra decided to move. Due to obvious factors, both of you stayed in touched with Jungkook, and recently he moved into the apartment aka the flat you had found back when you first decided to finally rent your own apartment.

You and Xandra both came to the new city with nothing but a suitcase and a hope. For you, a hope that you had dreamed about ever since you were little. You wanted to be a designer. An interior designer, to be exact. You had always wanted to create and design a safe space for people. A place where human beings spend the most time at, second after their workplaces. A place whereby they can come home to and feel their troubles lift off and out of the window. You had always been intrigued by the amount of hard work and art being put into interior designing, it was your dream and you remember the times when you were little when you would steal IKEA’s Catalogue & Brochures books, bringing them home and adding it to the collects of inspirational books. For future references. You told yourself. Xandra on the other hand, her biggest wish is to open up her own dance studio. Dancing. It has always been her passion, she had been dancing for more than half her life. You love seeing your best friend perform on stage, she does it with so much passion, so much so that you could see it in every move she makes, she is talented. That is undeniable. Since you had nearly nothing before you both agreed on moving to the city, both of you had to stay up till the asscrack of dawn to search for cheap accommodation, more specifically roommates so that rent will go easy on your pockets. Much to your delight, one day after searching for hours you had found one.

“I really don’t understand why we can’t just-”

“Oh my god! I found it!” Finally. After 5 long excruciating hours. You had found one that met almost all your requirements. You were so excited, so thrilled to finally be able to move out, to be honest you never felt a special connection with the place that was supposed to be home, moving out had always been an option. The only way.

Moving wasn’t easy, just because it was the only option doesn’t mean it was easy. Bidding goodbyes with family and close friends was the hardest part, seeing the glum looks on your parents’ face made you extremely uneasy. You had to. You told yourself. When you first arrived at the dormitory you were supposed to be living in for the next chapters of your lives, it was in a horrific condition. Clothes were thrown everywhere, dishes were left untouched in the sink, bathroom was clogged and strands of hair were stucked on the tiles of the bathroom, the three other tenants that were living there prior was unfriend and unwelcoming. You were shitting bricks. How could you leave here for the long run? As you looked around the apartment dorm, every time you would discover something more disgusting, the look on Xandra’s face was pure gold. You wanted to retch. Both of you only managed to live for a good 2 days before you packed up and left. That was when you have decided that the rent was only a matter of material weath and that your mental health and livelihood was more important. So, you got the apartment you are currently living in.

Jungkook dragged Xandra into the kitchen while you were engrossed in the movie, it was movie marathon night. “I’m sick of this, I’m tired of seeing her like that. We have to do something.” Jungkook huffed out.

Xandra scrunched her face in confusion her arms full with the bucket of ice cream, “Do what? There’s literally nothing we could do but provide moral support” the spoon in her mouth remained its spot.

“Literally anything, like get her out the house or some shit, I can literally smell the whiff of mouldiness coming off of her. She’s literally moulding?”

“True”

That was when an idea sparked in Jungkook’s mind.

“A blind date.”

[everlarkficexchange]

1,498 mph (Part 1)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 47: Modern. Peeta is back home on his time off from the Air Force or army. He meets the newest employee in the bakery, a younger Katniss, who’s working hard to help her family while still going to school. They fall for each other and they didn’t even know when it happened. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

this chapter Rated: Mature for language 

Warnings: This is the first part of a multiple chapter story. The rating will still be Mature for adult situations and smut once the rest of the pic is posted to AO3

Un-betaed. All mistakes are mine. Several Songs have been quoted in this fic, Rocket Man by Elton John; Girls, Girls, Girls by Motley Crue; Bungle In the Jungle by Jethro Tull… if you see anything else I forgot to create let me know.  

———————-

  “She packed my bags last night pre-flight Zero hour nine AM”

  I’m quietly mouthing the lyrics of Rocket Man to myself while the whistle of engines zoom by at the speed of light filling the muggy Florida afternoon sky.

  “And I’m gonna be high as a kite… I miss the earth so much… miss my wife…”

The chatter of men talking animatedly mixed with tools dropping on asphalt, stomping boots, and even the obnoxious scraping of step ladders being dragged around from place to place, is just another layer of the hubbub in the yard. Just another day at base, working away the hours,  pretending we aren’t swimming in our own sweat and our skin isn’t sizzling under the harsh sun beating down on us.

  “I think it’s gonna be a long, long time ‘Till touchdown brings me round again to find I’m not the man they think… nonono… I’m a rocket man! Rocket maaaaaaaan… dadada up here alone.

Rocket maa—”

  “Mellark!” Someone calls at the top of his lungs. “Move your ass here, quickly.”

  I jump out of a trainer aircraft I was familiarizing myself with, to find one of my superiors looking annoyed as shit for having to come out here to fetch me.

  “Sir!” I salute and wait to be addressed.

  “Lieutenant, your fairy godmother must’ve thought you were a good boy.” He practically spits, as he hands me an envelope. “You’re going home on break. Now don’t let the news interfere with training, keep your head in that cockpit, and you won’t lose any privileges, capisce?”

  “Sir!” I’m saluting again, but this time I’m so giddy with excitement I can’t keep my face straight in front of this bad tempered badger.

  “Go back to work!”

  “Yes, Sir!” I scramble back to my fighter smiling from ear to ear like this is a redo of the day I got accepted into the F22 Raptor training class.

  Holy shit! I’m going home! Can’t remember the last time I was able to go home for a long chunk of time, but my leave papers say I’m excused for four weeks!

  “Rocket man is coming home, baby!”

——————

  Air Force personnel have all the flight benefits they can aspire to, which includes free rides all over the globe during vacation, and since I’m trying to save every penny in my bank account for retirement, I hitch a ride home, to Panem, North Carolina, all the way from Tyndall Air Force Base, in sunny Florida… well, actually I got dropped off at Charlotte Douglas International Airport, and had to call my pal Finnick to pick me up, since I’m trying to get home and surprise my dad.

  What I’m not expecting is for a reception complete with balloons, signs and a man wearing a tuxedo t-shirt with a bouquet of red roses.

  My first instinct is to cover my face in embarrassment, but Finnick spots me and starts waving exaggeratedly while I walk slowly towards him, pretending he’s not there for me, even though his “Welcome Home First Lt. P. Mellark, we love you!” sing has a huge picture of me in uniform, pasted in the middle of the banner, surrounded by hearts.

  The closer I get, the more details I see, like all the glitter on the sign, or how big the bouquet really is. Finnick is not alone either. His wife Annie is there holding the sign up over her head for every soul to see, and their two sons Finnick Jr. and Andy hold the balloons and point at me excitedly.

  Finnick tells the boys something and the pipsqueaks charge at me like a pair of helions, giggling and chanting “Uncle Peet, Uncle Peet, Uncle Peet!” the whole time.

  I admit the part with the boys is actually pretty espectacular, so I drop my bags, get down on one knee and open my arms wide just in time to get tackled by two little boys I love with all my heart, as if they were my own blood.

  “Finny! Andy!” I wrap them both in a bear hug, their little arms circle my neck. I pick them up and spin them around for good measure.

  Out of nowhere, I feel another body collide with my side, and before I can recognize the slim arms hugging me and the kiddos, a bigger body slams into the group hug, knocking the air out of my lungs.

  Finnick uses his longer arm to choke hold me and plants a kiss to my temple, while the boys laugh hysterically at their father’s antics. The boys slide away from me, and as soon as my arms are free, I playfully shove Finnick away and hug Annie fully, tipping her back in a dip and whispering loudly for Finn to hear.

  “Leave the fresh water sailor, baby. I’m way more interesting, I’m an Air Force pilot!”

  Then I proceed to kiss Annie all over the face, except the mouth. “I so much rather kiss you, than that gorila you married,” I tell her dreamily.

  Annie gives me a belly laugh right before Finnick pulls her away from me with a mock frown.

  “Hey! No fair. I slaved all night making that welcome home banner!” My best friend protest, but everything is so ridiculous and silly, we all just end up laughing like lunatics.

  Finnick and I hug quickly, clapping each other on the back.

  “Good to see you man!”

  “Is good to be home!” I tell him.

  “Sure is! Now, let’s get this show on the road or we’ll end up with a pair of cranky boys if we miss bedtime.”

  Finnick dumps the bouquet of roses in my arms, picks up my duffel and walks towards the parking lot, leaving me and Annie to deal with two chatty boys.

  It’s truly great to be home.

  I pick up Andy in my arms and start whistling Mötley Crüe’s Home Sweet Home.

  ———————

  I open the door to my family’s bakery, and the bell above betrays my presence before I can call out to anyone.

  I’m taken aback when a sultry voice I don’t recognize reaches me with a greeting. “Welcome to Mellark’s!”

  A petite, dark haired girl steps in from the back wiping her hands in one of the familiar aprons embroidered with the Mellarks logo. She looks up from her hands to fix on me the most stunning gray eyes I’ve ever seen. The world stops turning for a whole second while we stare at each other.

  Her eyes widen as she takes me in, and then fly to my latest official portrait, on display on the wall besides the registers.

  The girl blushes violently and stammers at rapid shot, “Oh… um… w-welcome home… sir… um, Lieutenant? I didn’t know… I mean… I don’t think Mr. Mellark didn’t he was expecting you… oh my gosh, I’ll go get him!”

  The girl slips back to the kitchen, leaving me standing there like a moron.

  Finnick walks into the shop and looks at me quizzically. “What’s the matter?” He asks, just as my father runs through the doors leading from the back of the bakery.

  My old man’s hands are covered in flour, and his apron has dried up orange frosting in the chest— which I guess is appropriate, since orange is my favorite color. The man bounds up to me like a runaway mastodon, and before I can even form a greeting, he’s squeezing the breath out of me.

  “My son!” Dad cries into my shoulder. He releases me to pat my cheek with his flour covered hand. “What a surprise!”

  “Peeta!” My brother Ryen yells from behind the counter, before jumping over it to hug me as well. “You didn’t call! I could’ve come pick you up, thickhead!”

  I laugh. “It would’ve ruin the surprise. Plus, what else does Finn have going for him besides picking people up from the airport?”

  Finnick glares at me, “I’ll have you know, even wealthy, trust fund babies, have jobs to report to. You ingrate son of a gun.”

  “Yeah… whatever!”

  We are all laughing merrily, when the bell above the door chimes again, this time for a real customer trying to get some pastries.

  The raven haired girl diligently takes the patron’s order as quickly and quietly as possible, trying to give our reunion space, although between my bags, three bulky Mellark men plus Finnick, who’s no dainty daisy either, we take up most of the front of the shop.

  After the customer is gone, Ryen turns to the girl. “Hey Squirrels, come meet my baby brother!”

  The girl with awesome eyes gives my brother a positively murderous glare, just as dad rolls his eyes and shakes his head. The girl steps out from behind the counter, but her eyes— Gray with specks of blue— stay stubbornly on Ryen.

  “Hi!” I pretty much run up to shake her hand— firm grip and a bit rough to the touch, but that just means she’s use to working with her hands. “I’m Peeta. And I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess ‘Squirrels’ isn’t your name, and you actually hate it almost as much as you dislike my brother?”

  I’ve take the girl by surprise, and then it occurs to me I may be crowding her, judging by her stunned expression and the fact she takes a step back from me.

  The girl gives her head a little shake, and smiles awkwardly. “My name’s Katniss Everdeen. Is an honor to meet you sir, and… um… thank you for your service.”

  I’ve heard the same words a few dozen times today, having just walked through a civilian airport, full of appreciative people nodding at me or wanting to shake my hand since I’m wearing my uniform, yet, coming from this blushing girl, Katniss, makes me feel like I’m actually doing something that matters. Even if I’m just training right now. It’s taken a lot of hard work to be where I am.

  “No, ma’am, is my honor to serve this great country. And you.” I’m about to bow, but my brother starts laughing, completely ruining the mood.

  “Wow, ease up the cheese, Captain Braggy Pants. Squirrels will lose respect soon enough after she hears you singing while you bake.” Ryen guffaws.

  I can’t believe I’ve only been home ten minutes and already I have the urge to strangle Rye. It’s gotta be some kind of record for him.

  “Come on boys. I’m sorry, Katniss. My sons don’t usually behave this way.”

  “No. They behave worse.” And just like that, my mother waltzes into the bakery front, sucking the joy right out of the room. “Peeta,” She says by way of greeting. “I’m assuming your on leave since you’re in your uniform. For a moment there I was afraid the Air Force finally kicked you out.”

  Dad sighs, “Matilda, the kid just got home…”

  My parents have a little staring competition, but as usual, dad turns away after a few minutes, letting my mother win the spat.

  Dad sighs again, tiredly, picks up my bag and mutters under his breath, “Come on Peeta, bring your stuff to my office and I’ll get you a snack, you must be hungry.” Then he turns to my friend, “Finnick, are you staying for supper?”

  “Uh… no, no. The boys are asleep in the car with Annie. I gotta take them all home. But another time!” Finn smiles widely. “Hey, Peet, call me when you’re settled in,”

  “Sure thing, man. Thank you!” I tell him and give him a quick hug. “Say by to Annie and the kiddos for me.”

  “You got it.”

  My mother rolls her eyes, snorting. My father gives her an exasperated glare, but she’s too busy counting the cash in the till to care.

  “Everdeen,” Mom calls not looking up at the girl, “You’re closing the shop tonight. I’m leaving $100 in change in the register, and putting the rest of the money in the safe. That should be enough to tie you over until closing.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Says Katniss stoically, her face devoid of emotion.

  I’m impressed.

  My mother is not the nicest person ever as a mom. As a boss, she’s even worse. Luckily, she only comes around a couple of hours before closing time to check on the books and put the cash away for bank deposits in the morning.

  “Ma’am, about Wednesday—?”

  “Yeah, yeah… take the whole day off if you need to. Peeta is here, so we’re back to fully staffed. The least he can do is pick up the slack for a few hours on Wednesday.”

  Katniss blinks at my mother for a moment, but then I’m turning away so I don’t accidentally punch mommy dearest in the mouth.

  I’m a fucking First Lieutenant in the USA Air Force. I fly fighters for a living! I’ve been deployed in flight missions twice in the last few years; I refuse to let my mother’s bitchyness ruin my vacation… it’s gonna be a long month, and it starts right now, with me showing how many fucks I give!

  ——-

I’m splashing soapy water all over the sink, holding the brush I’m using to scrub clean the trays like a microphone, like a dork. I keep forgetting where I am and with whom, all I know is that washing pots and pans at the bakery is way better than doing it at the kitchen of the training center.

  “Friday night… need a fight My motorcycle and a switchblade knife Handful of grease in my hair feels right But what I — mmm— me tight are those

Girls, girls, girls Long legs and burgundy lips Girls, girls, girls—“

  I turn around and find myself face to face with Ryen going purple, holding in his laughter. I feel myself jump out of my skin.

  “Geez, Rye! The fuck is the matter with you?!” I yell at my brother, ripping the headphones out of my ears angrily.

  Ryen keeps laughing, but when he steps out of my personal space, I wish the earth would open up and swallow me whole, because Katniss is standing by the swing door taking off her apron.

  She blinks at me once with eyes as big as saucers, then looks away, blushing. I’m not sure why she does it so much, blush when she realizes I’m looking at her. Honestly, I don’t know what to think, although I’d be lying if I said I’m not flattered, especially when she regards me with as much respect as if I’m personally some renowned war hero or something.

  “You taking off, Squirrels?” Asks Ryen pulling a tray of muffins out of the oven still shaking all over with a case of the giggles.

  “I am. Mrs. Mellark already knows I have class tonight. She game tomorrow off as well” she says glancing at me apologetically. She adds quickly, “But I’m only taking half a day. I’ll be here in the morning for the rush. See you tomorrow, Mr. Ryen. Lieutenant.”

  “You can call me Peeta, you know.” I tell her with my friendliest smile, hoping she doesn’t think I’m harboring any resentment towards her.

  As if on cue, Katniss’ eyes grow to saucers and her cheeks flush a pretty pink. She nods in agreement and says another hasty goodbye before gathering her stuff and flying out the back door. I watch her go, wondering how long it’s going to take her to get used to me?

  Ryen comes back from the front and squints in my direction. “Dude, if you’re gonna hang out here in the back, you need to keep an eye in the oven, man. The baguettes are gonna burn if you don’t hurry.”

  I glare a Rye and put on oven mitts. The baguettes are fine, just a bit crispier than usual.

  “So, what’s the story with this Katniss chick?” I ask checking on a sheet cake that’s close to being done.

  Rye shrugs, rinsing a rag he brought from the front. “Uh, she replaced Cecilia during her postpartum leave. She was supposed to be temporary, but then Cecilia wanted to stay home with her children, and the girl pretends Mom’s the boss and goes to her scheduling issues, which Mom adores, so she was offered Cecilia’s full time slot.

  “Katniss is finishing her GED. She’s got three nights at week off to attend school, and has a second, part time job when she’s not here, which is pretty much every hour she doesn’t have to sleep or study.”

  “Two jobs and a GED at night? She looks like she should still be in High School.” I say.

  “Meh. She’s nineteen. I think she dropped out and had like three part jobs until we offered full time hours, but I may be wrong. Wheaton was the one who hired her.”

  “So, Dad liked her? I mean if Wheat hired her, and she stayed after he left.”

  Wheaton, my eldest brother, used to manage the bakery before moving out of state. His wife wanted to live closer to her elderly parents to keep an eye on them, so about six months ago they opened up a bakery in a suburb near Atlanta, Georgia.

  Ryen chuckles. “She hunts. Dad likes her squirrels.”

  Now I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Ask him when he comes for closing. He’ll tell you.”

  Later, Dad strolls into the kitchen, ready to help with clean-up and prepping for tomorrow.

  “Boys,” he greets and goes straight to wash his hands after donning his apron.

  I smile at that. Some things always remain constant. Familiar. Like home.

  “Dad, Peeta’s asking if you like Squirrels?” Rye snickers.

  Dad smiles. “Squirrels are delicious. I don’t care if you naysayers disagree with me.”

  “Dad, I think Rye meant Katniss, not the critters…” I’m totally confused now. “Either if you care to elaborate?” I ask watching my father grab ingredients from a shelf and a mixing bowl from another.

  Dad starts talking in that deep voice he used when teaching us a new recipe, “When I was little, my grandpa had this BB gun. He’d take us to his yard and had us shoot squirrels, then we would butcher them, fried them up, and eat them. Best comfort food ever.”

  I make a puking face. I know my grandpa used to make roadkill stews and other mountain folk fare, but I don’t remember dad ever talking about them actually shooting up their own supper like that.

  “Anywho, Katniss comes to me one day, maybe a year ago, and it takes all the courage she’s got, but she offers me a trade. She finds out I actually enjoy squirrel meat and asks if I would take a handful of her squirrels for a loaf, or at the very least a couple of buns.”

  “What? You’re joking right?” Now I’m concern about this girl: GED at night, multiple jobs, now she hunts squirrels and trades bread for them?

What’s going on here? “Is Katniss, okay?”

  “Oh, she’s better than okay,” Says dad smiling fondly. “She gets the squirrels right through the eye every single time! Born huntress, that one.”

  “And you traded bread with her? Isn’t there some kind of regulation or something against that kind of shit?” I balk at my father’s cheerful face.

  “I was hesitant at first, I mean, this is some urchin from the Seam, trying to barter with me like we’re in the 1800s or something. But then she shows me her squirrels, and I’m telling you, that kid has skills with a bow and arrow.”

  “Get out here! Is that even real?”

  “True story, baby bro…” Says Rye smiling wickedly.

  I’m flabbergasted. At least Ryan’s nickname makes sense now. “Why would you do that? How do you know it was her who do the shooting, if she’s got this amazing superhuman aim? I mean, how does she even know to trade with you? That’s just so random.” I ask skeptically.

  “She’s the one shooting. And the reason she knows I’m partial to squirrels, is because I grew up next door to her mother. In fact, and don’t tell your mother this, I used to be a little sweet on Katniss’ mother way back then. But her mama was a couple of years younger than me, and then she met Everdeen, and I realized it wasn’t meant to be.” Dad shrugs, and goes back to measuring his ingredients.

  “Okay, but a kid hunting down squirrels and trading them away, doesn’t sound very sanitary, let alone legal.”

  “So what? Are you gonna report her? Leave her alone, man.” Rye throws me an aggravated glare.

  Dad shakes his head sadly. “Katniss, needed the trades desperately. Wheaton decided to offer her a part time job to help her out precisely for the same reasons you just listed. He gave her a condition, though, she had to go back to school and finish up, she’d just drop out. When I was able to offer her a full time position, I kept the school deal, she’s about to get her GED diploma, and we’re talking community college for her next step, we will see.”

  The bell above the front door rings, and Rye goes tend to the newly arrived costumer.

  “Where are her parents?” I ask dad still puzzled. “She sounds like an orphan.”

  “Mr. Everdeen passed away a while back. Some work related accident. The mother is still around, but she’s not exactly well. Katniss has a little sister, a few years younger than her. She’s pretty much raised the girl herself.”

  Well, now I feel like shit for distrusting everyone’s judgement, particularly Katniss.

  “She seems nice.” I say awkwardly.

  “She is. Hard working, smart, fast study. Honest and a trustworthy. She’s one of my best employees.” He gives me a pointed look and goes back to baking.

  “Yeah… I bet. So… where’s Thom?” He’s been with the bakery since I was in high school. Him and my ex, Portia, were hired the same day. In fact, Portia stayed with the bakery after we broke up, which blowed.

  “Thom is off this week. Jury duty. Your mother was so annoyed she almost wrote him an excuse from serving.” Dad rolls his eyes.

  “And Um… Portia?” I feel a nervous swoop in my stomach at first, but it doesn’t go beyond that.

  Portia was angry I decided to enroll in the Air Force instead of going to college with her, like she wanted. We were both interested in art and design, but she was passionate about it, while I just enjoyed it as a hobby… one I truly loved. I still doodle, and my drawings are still great if I say so myself, but nothing compares to flying a bird capable of breaking the sound barrier.

  Portia couldn’t understand why I had to go away and become a pilot, I just couldn’t stay cooped here, while the sky is so big and free. She accused me of just wanting to run away from home, but the truth is, I love my family, I love North Carolina; being away from Mom is just sweet, gooey icing on the cake, but it’s been ages since I’ve develop a thick skin against her.

  Dad takes his time kneading the dough before answering my question. “Portia got married. Nice fellow named Cinna. I made the cake myself. She left the bakery maybe two months before Cecilia announced her last pregnancy.” He stays quiet for maybe ten minutes, then he speaks again. “Delly has been coming in more often to pick up the slack. But the whole Cartwright clan is in Dollywood, celebrating Grandpa Cartwright’s 90th birthday. Ryen was supposed to be there, but stayed since Thom had jury duty.”

  “Is that why Rye looks so broken up?” I ask sarcastically, because my brother seems happy as a clam.

  Talk of the devil, Rye bursts into the kitchen chewing on a pastry. “Dodged a bullet there.” He says coming to lean by the big fridge, smiling at me.

  “Yeah, it spending time in an amusement park with your wife and in-laws must be nightmarish.” I deadpan.

  Ryen laughs heartily.

  “Its truly is a blessing that you showed up now. It gives us tons of wiggle room to work, and maybe we start training Katniss in more technical stuff. I’ve been meaning to do that, but I never have the time.” Says Dad ignoring Rye’s interruption and the small rude gesture war we’re silently having between us. “She’s still not a very good froster, but she’s a heck of a saucier.”

  I look at my dad for a moment, and then I put the sheet cake on a rack to cool.

  Dad keeps talking placing a batch of cupcakes in the oven I just emptied. “I want you to know how much I appreciate your help here, Peeta. I know you could’ve gone anywhere else in the world, enjoying a well deserved break like a normal person, instead you came home and started working in the bakery right away. All I can say is, thank you. You’re a godsend and very good son.”

  I smack Rye with a tea towel when he starts making kissy faces, addressing my father like nothing’s going on with my brother.

  “Dad… you know I rather be here than anywhere else, even if I’m free labor.” We both chuckle at that. “Seriously Dad, I love being here. More than anything.”

  “That’s good, Peet. Listen, I talked to your mother last night, and I told her it would be a good idea… and you tell me if I’m wrong, but, I was thinking you could use the apartment above the shop while you’re here.”

  “Dad… that’s… I wouldn’t want to impose—“

  “Is no imposition, son. The apartment has been vacant since Ryen and Delly moved to their new place; its fully furnished and you’ll have privacy…”

  “Oooh! Bachelor pad!” Ryen wolf whistles, and Dad fixes him with a glare Rye ignores.

  We all know Dad means I’ll be away from mother, and her nippy remarks and passive aggressive comments.

  “Son, you’re twenty six years old, you’re used to being in your own. Mom and I are just a block away, and Ryen and Delly will be here every day.”

  “I don’t know what to say, dad. That’s awfully generous.”

  “Nonsense! Say you’ll take it and enjoy your time in town. You’re not a kid anymore and you don’t need to live in your parents guest room, when you can have a place for yourself.”

  I smile. “Okay, Dad… if you insist.”

  “No heavy partying without me!” Announces Rye, kicking off the fridge and grabbing his stuff to go home.

  Dad and glare at him, but I’m still so grateful. My vacation just got more relaxing!

  ——————

  I don’t see much of the bakery the next two days, because I take time to clean up upstairs and then decide to take a day off to hang out with Finn and his family at their cabin by the lake.

  Finnick comes from an affluent family, that made their fortune in the seafood business. Finn is a ‘lawyer’ who only represents his family���s business. Annie on the other hand, is a Public Defender who mostly works pro-bono, “to balance the karma” according to Finn.

  Ironically, Finnick’s favorite thing to do, is sit in a kayak in the middle of the lake doing nothing. Sure, he has fishing equipment, but as he puts it, “unless you skewer them with a trident, fishing is not an exciting sport.”

  The thing is, anything we do together, whether is fake fishing in his kayak in the lake, going out for some beers with my brother and his friends, or simply sitting in the porch with the little minions, telling them about what it’s like to fly a fighter, everything is fun with my best buddy here at home.

  “I heard Portia got married,” I say offhandedly late in the evening, when Annie takes the kiddos inside for baths.

  “Yeah. Saw her the other day. She looks good. I think you’d like the husband.” Finnick says scanning my face, like he usually does when he’s trying to gauge my moods.

  I only shrug. “Good for her. She deserves to be happy.” I wait a moment and then ask after another girl I used to date on and off, “How about Cash? She doing okay?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckles. “Cash is on her second divorce, and on her fifth Mercedes. Prettiest thing around… if you’re into fake boobs and artificial asses, that is.”

  We both smirk and shake our heads ruefully, Cashmere was never a subtle one, and her only love has always been bling. Can’t blame the girl when her mother named her kids so ridiculously vain: Cashmere and her twin brother, Gloss, and little Glimmer, who’s got to be around Katniss’ age. All three, golden haired children with the world at their feet, on the back of a dad who could barely afford his utility bills, but hey! His kids had the most expensive clothes, toys and stuff in town. No wonder Cashmere grew up with that askew rich-or-die mindset.

  “And you, loverboy?” Asks Finnick, “any lady friends you’d like to share about? I hope you have some juicy stories for me, I can’t go back to Annie tonight with the same old gossip as always, you know.”

  I laugh at that. Then grow wistful. I shake my head.

  “There hasn’t been anyone in a very, very long time.” I sigh. “I had an arrangement with one Major in my squadron while on assignment. But she’s actually married, and wasn’t looking for a full blown affair. She just needed to scratch and itch and I was the helping hand. But since I’ve been in the training program, I barely have time to whine about my sore shoulders, let alone romance anyone.”

  “Aww, buddy… I’m sorry.” Finnick says sadly, then glares at me and tells me in a serious tone, “You stay away from my wife! I’m onto you and your home wrecking ways, Top Gun!”

  I have to laugh at that, “As if I could snatch her away from you!” because there’s nothing more ridiculous than the notion I could ever try anything funny with Annie.

  She’ll slap me silly for starters, and then there’s the deal of how much I love my friend to ever hurt him. He’s always been there to support me, and when things got rough at home with mom, he was the only one who could help me see the good in life and in myself.

  “You’re an idiot, you know.” I punch him in the shoulder and he punches back.

  “No more than you, buddy.”

  ———-

  “Let’s bungle in the juuungle!

Well, that’s all right by meeee…

I’m a tiger when I want looooove,

I’m a snake if we di-sagreeeeee…”

  I look up self conscious that I’m being watched and mocked, although I’m barely audible, humming under my breath.

  I’m only mildly surprised to see Katniss by the sink, towel drying a few utensils. She’s got the ghost of a smile on her lips and she’s nodding her head rhythmically while mouthing what I think are lyrics to the song I’m singing.

  She most have felt eyes on her, because she looks at me with the corner of her eyes, and actually smiles when it’s confirmed I’m watching her. She stops what she’s doing and rotates her torso towards me.

  “I take it your iPod is allergic to music from this millennium.” She says with a lopsided smirk, gesturing to my earphones with a wooden spoon.

  “Has there been music produced this millennium, though?”

  She rolls her eyes, but her smirk stays in place. “Jethro Tull I can understand. My father was quite the fan and they were geniuses. But I have to question your taste when you sing anything from a band so demeaning to women as Mötley Crüe.” She arches her eyebrows daring me to contradict her. “Those guys were so foul, the Me Too Movement would’ve had a field day burying then in lawsuits.”

  “Ma’am, I have nothing but respect for women. Is not my fault good music is extinct nowadays.” I risk saying something else, and pray she doesn’t crucify me instead. “I think women back then needed the Me Too Movement, maybe groupies would’ve had someone looking out for them, telling them they didn’t have to let some asshole use them like they were trash just to show their love for the scene.”

  Katniss’ lips twitch, her sparkly gray eyes study me for a moment. And then she switches topics.

  “What’s the newest thing you have on your playlist, lieutenant?”

  “Call me Peeta, please… every time you call me Lieutenant I feel underdressed out of my uniform, and I don’t know if I should salute you or order you to do push-ups.”

  She her shoulders shake a little with her silent laughter. She licks her lower lip, and smiles at me. “I hope you don’t make me do push-ups. That will be the end on my employment here. There’s only so much a girl can put up with at work,” Her eyes twinkle in amusement.

  “Well, don’t call me Lieutenant, and nobody has to exercise.”

  “Okay… Peeta. I won’t ever call you by the title I’m sure you worked hard for, then.”

  I go mute for a solid second. My name in her lips sounds… otherworldly. I’m oddly aware that my mouth is hanging open like a dying fish, but by the time I gather my wits around me to respond, Ryen bursts into the kitchen with another set of empty trays.

  “Squirrels, you’re done with that? Good! I need a favor, watch the counter for me. Gotta tinkle.”

  Katniss scowls. But says nothing else immediately marching to tend the front counter.

  Me on the other hand, cry out, “Ewww! TMI, dude! Nobody wants to know that shit!”

  Ryen gives me an outraged face, with his mouth forming a wide open O and his eyes equally rounded. “Language, Lieutenant! What will Captain America say? Shame on you, sir.”

  “Shut up, fuckward.” I tell him laughing.

  “When did you change branches, little brother? You’re supposed to be an airman not a potty mouthed sailor!”

  “Shut the hell up and go pee already!” I ball up a small portion of the dough I’m kneading and throw it at him.

  “My goodness! What’s going on here?” Gasps a clear female voice from the back door.

  Rye and I turn to the voice at the same time, just as my beautiful, extremely pregnant, sister-in-law, dumps her purse and a big tote bag on an empty chair by the door.

  “Delly!” I call excitedly. I leave my station, dusting the flour off my hands on my pants, to hug the woman, boxing Ryen out of the hug. “You look—“

  “Good enough to eat!” Ryen speaks over me, elbowing me out of the way.

  Delly blushes mortified, I gag, and my mother who’s just walking through the door oblivious to everything stares at us suspiciously.

  “Why is everyone just standing around lollygagging?”

  I decide we need to put a bell over the back door too. Too much traffic we missed coming in, in my opinion.

  “I’m on a potty break, Peeta is a potty mouth, and Dells just got here from Dollywood!” Says Rye kissing Delly in the cheek and rushing to the restroom just outside the counter at the front of the store.

  Mother doesn’t react to anything, but marches on to the office and leaves Delly and me finally alone.

  “I will never understand what you see in Ryen. He’s loud, annoying and as mentally advance as a thirteen year old boy, but hell I’m so glad you can stand that idiot!”

  Delly laughs, “Aww… he’s a cute idiot though. At least the baby will be a looker.” We hug each other and she kisses my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home! Sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you properly.”

  “Well, you’re here now, looking amazing, and I can’t wait to meet the little rugrat. Being an uncle will trump flying any day!”

  The office door opens up bringing my mother back into the kitchen. She stands just outside the office to glare at us. “You’re still just loitering around? Get back to work people!”

  Delly tries to tie her apron on the back, but she’s having trouble, Katniss comes in from the front just as my mother starts for the swing doors, and before I can offer to help Delly with the string, Katniss is making a neat little bow with the very tips of the of the ties.

  “There!” She says.

  Delly turns her head towards the raven haired girl and smiles gratefully. “Thanks!”

  “No problem at all, Ms. Delly.” Katniss nods at my sister-in-law and goes to her peg with her messenger bag hanging from. She sticks her hand in the bag and ruts around blindly for a bit, pulls out a phone to send a text. Then she drops the phone back in the bag and returns to the front.

  As Katniss is passing us by, Delly asks, “Is your shift over, Katniss?”

  “Forty five more minutes. But Jo is picking me up today.”

  “Car problems again?” Asks Delly washing her hands.

  “As usual. The poor girl is in her last legs. Pretty soon I’m gonna have to break down and get a new car. Is too bad, Old Green has been a trooper for sure.”

  “Well, if you need a ride at all next week let us know, you hear?” Says Delly drying her hands on a paper towel.

  “Sure thing! Thank you, Ms. Delly.”

  I try not to eavesdrop, but is just impossible when I’m not wearing my earphones. I simply watch Katniss walk back to the front, and file away the information I just heard in my mind, without any real reason to. I finish my bread, put it in the oven and tell Delly about it so she can pull it out when it’s done. I plan to make myself scarce by time Mom is done with the registers. The less I see of her, the better my vacation will be.

———-

  Saturday morning comes, and I’m too restless to stay in bed past 0600.

  I’m slowly coming down the internal staircase to the apartment, the office sits directly under it, so I’m trying extra hard to be quiet, in case Mom is here. But then I have to snort at myself, because Mom hasn’t been to the bakery before noon in years.

  When I’m halfway down the stairs, a soft, pleasant sound starts filtering up from the kitchen. Some vaguely familiar ballad, and then my heart gives a little jolt, when the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard puts lyrics to the music.

  “Down in the valley valley so low Hang your head over hear the wind blow Hear the wind blow dear hear the wind blow Hang your head over hear the wind blow.”

  I keep trying to stay quiet as I step down, this time because I don’t want to disturb the singer, in case it’s an angel from heaven in the kitchen. I don’t want to spook it away before praying for its blessing.

I reach the landing, just as a new stanza begins, and when I come around the corner, see the long thick braid of Katniss’ hair, swing lazily down her back every time she sways to the song.

  “Roses love sunshine violets love dew Angels in heaven know I love you Know I love you dear know I love you Angels in heaven know I love—-

  “Oh my God!” She screams when she turns to place a tray of cinnamon rolls in the oven and sees me standing in the middle of the kitchen just staring at her like an awestruck dumbass.

  Years of training as a pilot, plus the ones of being in my high school’s wrestling team, not to mention ducking out of my mom’s projectile trajectory when she was pissed off with us, has afforded me great  reflexes. Thanks to those, I miraculously save the tray with rolls without missing any.

  “I’m so sorry!” I start apologizing.

  She’s clenching her chest with one hand, while holding herself upright with the other one grabbing the edge of the counter behind her. She shakes her head vehemently. “No, serves me right for doing it to you the other day.” She says massaging her chest. She cocks her head sideways and peeks at me with one eye half open while the other is shut tightly. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you come in. I thought I had locked the back door when I came in. Not many people can sneak up on me like that.”

  “Oh no… I’m staying upstairs!”

  “That explains it then,” she gives a nervous laugh. “I had no idea you were living upstairs.”

  “Well…” I tell her lamely. “I’m still sorry for startling you.” I tell her over my shoulder, placing the tray in the oven for her. “You have, the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard by the way.” I try not to sounds so stalkerish.

  She smiles but shakes her head. “Hardly. But thank you.”

  “So, uh… you’re here…” I cringe at myself. What kind of stupid thing to say. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see you here this early. Not that I have any idea of what anyone’s schedule is. I know I’m supposed to help anytime I’m awake, but that’s just me—“

  She lifts a slightly greasy hand up to stop my rant, and smiles. “It’s okay, sir. I swapped schedules with Thom, the other baker, so he could sleep in after a week of just sitting in the waiting room for his jury duty. Apparently the poor guy is exhausted from doing nothing but reading whatever controversial title that drunkard Abernathy recommended him to read in the waiting room to avoid actually sitting in court.” She shrugs, “I figure I rather have the afternoon off to spend it with my friend Jo or my sister, Primrose.”

  “Cool.” I say feeling like a sixty year old coot trying to sound young. “Uh, that song you were just singing…?”

  She chuckles turning to the sink to wash her hands off. I’m pleased to see a nice pink take over her olive skinned cheeks.

  “I guess you’re not the only one who enjoys old music.” She turns down the volume on the iPod dock by the sink. “It’s a mountain air. My dad used to sing to me all kinds of old, folksy songs. But I don’t sing much unless I’m alone.”

  “Why? You’re voice is incredible.” I tell her earnestly.

  Is a good thing she’s preoccupied wiping down her working station, because I can’t stop gawking at her. I’m noticing all kinds of traits I find just adorable; like the way her nose wrinkles at my words, disturbing the faded smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Or how perfectly shaped her eyebrows are, and how her blush makes her look so pure and innocent.

  “I’m okay, I guess. My father was the real deal. But he’s been gone for a long time now, and all I inherited from him were a bunch of old Appalachian ballads.” She doesn’t sound sad or bitter, just factual.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind working with your voice as ambience noise.” I smile, hoping she takes it as a light hearted compliment.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to serenade me with your 70’s and 80’s jams?”

  It’s my turn to chuckle. “I’m fine, but by all means keep abusing my self esteem.”

  Her eyes go as round as silver dollars, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to—“

  “Katniss! It’s a joke! And remember, it’s Peeta.”

  “I— I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, my father always taught me to be respectful to servicemen and women, and it’s just ingrained in my mind. Um, thank you for volunteering to protect our country. I have a little sister, you know, her safety is the most important thing in the world to me. I’ve thought several times of joining the army. They have so many benefits I could use, but I just can’t leave Prim alone so long, so I’m very appreciative of people who does leave home to train and become… uh, our defenders?” Her blush is so intense now, I feel bad for the poor thing, but my heart is beating wildly in my chest eating up all this undeserved praise.

  “Ugh… I’m sorry. I’m not very good at talking. I always say the most awkward stuff.”

  “Oh no! You’re great!” I try to assure her. “I’m the one who’s done nothing much to begin with. At least not something I’m terribly proud of, other than flying like a fiend when I need to. Your dad sounds like a stand up guy, I’m glad you had a man like him in your life. And as for joining the army, you can serve plenty around home.” I’m not entirely sure about the last part, but in my head it sounded like the right thing to say.

  “Well, I think you’re great.” She says, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, she goes into a mortified rant, avoiding my eyes at all costs. “I mean… um, I think what you do is great. And your folks are so proud of you too!” She stammers and talks so fast I barely catch up everything she said.

  “Oh yeah,” I say before I can stop the sarcasm, “Mom is real proud of the free labor I provide for her while on leave.”

  I look up defensively, not wanting pity from her, but there isn’t any of that in her soft eyes at all. Instead, she smiles at me, and nods towards the swing doors; she waves me to follow her, and then she points at my picture by the register.

  “Mrs. Mellark is not the nicest person around, but see how that picture hasn’t the tiniest speck of dust on it? She pulls a rag or a handkerchief if she forgets the rag, and cleans the frame every day after counting the money in the till.”

  She lets the information sink in for a bit, letting the door leaf she’s holding open for me swing back into place. She walks back to her station and starts on a batch of muffins.

  I stay there for a moment longer before stepping to the shelf with fresh laundered aprons, grabbing one for myself. The cynical part of me can’t accept that my mother would have a sweet gesture towards me without an ulterior motive; maybe she wipes down the frame so her bridge club friends believe she’s a proud, dedicated, mother… or maybe it’s to show up that church deacon lady she’s got this unspoken rivalry with, I don’t know what her angle is, but I keep it to myself, because I don’t want Katniss to think I’m ungrateful or whatever.

  I just get to work on kneading bread. Methodically and repetitive, relaxing and familiar. I work my frustration with each fold and every time my hands squeeze the malleable concoction on the table. I feel like this is where I belong. I’m actually happy working the dough. It’s not the same rush adrenaline flowing when I get in my cockpit, but here, in this place with a sweet country melody in the background, I feel content.

  Me and Katniss start working on the same station when my dad shows up fifteen minutes later. It’s actually nice sharing the counter with her. She’s tidy, efficient, and meticulous and takes suggestions gratefully. So when dad asks if I’d mind teaching her some frosting techniques, I make a stupid joke, but jump to it with both feet in.

  “Katniss, if you want to decorate cakes like the masters, Peeta’s the guy to learn from.”

  “I don’t know, Pops,” I say eying the girl in mock suspicion. “Can she be trusted with my trade secrets?”

  Cue in the blushing and shying her gaze away. I can’t help thinking she’s cute… pretty, really. I feel like I should be doing something to impress her with my baking and frosting talents.

  “Come, Padawan, I’ll show you the ways of the frost!”

  Katniss looks up at me and tries to hide the curl of her lips. “Okay, but I’m not calling you master,” she says low enough I have to strain my neck to hear her.

  “Peeta will do!” I say winking at her, and her cheeks go impossibly scarlet; the sight enthralls me and I wonder if I can keep doing and saying things to make her blush. “Alright!” I give a clap, “let’s do this!”

  We spend the next couple of hours icing cookies, stacking cakes and practicing the basics of mixing colors. She’s very studious, doesn’t blush as much while we’re actually working on the task at hand, which I respect very much about her. Katniss asks questions confidently and tries to figure out things from her own perspective until she has a solid hold on a concept or skill I’m showing her. She’s serious, but scowls less than when Ryen is the one talking to her.

  Delly and Ryen arrive a few minutes into our decorating techniques class, and Dad comes to our station to tells to take a break, but we’re almost done putting on the base layer of frosting on a birthday cake, and Katniss insists she wants to see it through.

  At around 0930, Rye peeks his head through the swing doors and calls loudly. “Hey, Squirrels, you’ve got visitors.”

  Katniss looks up scowling. “Who?”

  “Your sister and her friend.”

  “Uh… I’m a bit busy—“

  “Take a break, Everdeen!” Says Dad walking by us with a steaming mug of coffee, heading to his office. “Or I’ll dock you thirty bucks!”

  Katniss’ face sours right away, and I have to shake my head ruefully at myself for thinking she’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t help it. I think I’m infatuated with the girl, which is so strange to me. I know things about her, but I don’t know her, and then, there’s the issue of our age difference. We’re like six years apart… it hurts my head just thinking of it.

  “Okay, Mr. Mellark. I’m taking my fifteen minutes.” She says morosely, stepping away from the counter, untying her apron and dusting her hands from flour.

  She wipes herself clean, straightens her Mellark’s uniform, and nods at me. “Thank you for taking time to show me how to decorate a cake. I appreciate your help.” She tells me very politely, with a businesslike edge.

  “Hey, I’m not done with you yet,” I tell her and see the color fill her face before smiling, “I’ll make the best pastry chef around out of you. Count on it!” I wink again, and she doesn’t disappoint with her shy smile.

  “Thanks. It means a lot.” She nods, and goes out the front, to see her sister.

  I’ve been in the back on my own for a bit, and Delly calls from the counter, “Hey, Peeta? Are there any more cheese buns in the cooling rack? We need some out here.”

  “Cheese buns coming up!” I answer already grabbing the tray.

  The bakery is packed. There’s a line snaking around the side of the counter, mostly people try to grab something and go, but we also have a few tables by the back wall, cafe style, completely full. My eyes go straight to the long, thick, dark braid in the very back corner. Her back is to me, and a pair of teenage girls sit facing the display case I’m stoking with pastries.

  Katniss’ table is a picture perfect diversity poster. One of the girls is blonde and blue eyed, with ivory skin; her friend has a smooth ebony complexion, with a riot of dark curls framing her thin face, and soulful brown eyes that light up when she notices the cheese buns have arrived; and then there’s Katniss, with her olive skin and gray eyes with streaks of blue in the irises. A beautiful palette of people.

  “Peeta, would you mind taking two cheese buns and an apple turnover to table five?” Asks Delly bagging a loaf for a customer.

  I look up at Rye, who’s busy taking a cake order over the phone.

  “No problemo!” I tell her reaching for a plate and forks.

  As it turns out, table five is Katniss’ table. Objectively, I knew that already from years working in the bakery, but for some reason the two things didn’t correlate until I looked towards table five, and the two teens were craning their necks around a stiff looking Katniss to gawk at me.

  Aw! High schoolers! Not much has changed.

  The girls start giggling quietly and elbowing each other while their amused eyes flit from me to one another; they start swapping hushed comments behind their hands but their voices carry anyway.

  “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, he’s coming over!”

  “Gah! Are you seeing those baby blues?”

  “No! I’m preoccupied with his biceps! Lord have mercy!”

  Katniss pounces forward, leaning closer to the girls. “Cut it out! He can probably hear you two!”

  “Morning, ladies!” I say loudly, not to startle Katniss since her back is to me. I hold up the plate of pastries to them. “Two cheese buns and an apple turnover. Enjoy!” I give them a polite nod and place the plate in the middle of the table, trying to remain professional for Katniss’ sakes.

  “Thank you, Captain Mellark,” Says the blonde, who’s obviously Primrose, judging by how much her features favor her big sister, except for her hair color.

  “First Lieutenant!” Katniss hisses at her sister, eyes alarmed and full of aggravation.

  “It’s fine,” I assure them. “No worries. Call me Peeta if you’re in doubt.” I smile at them beatifically and then move on from the table.

  I can hear the girls giggling and Katniss’ mortified groan.

  “Oh my gosh, he’s hot!”

  “Primrose! Mind yourself!” Katniss berates her sister in a harsh whisper.

  “What! I’m fifteen, not blind.”

  “Rue, what are you doing? Put the phone down! Oh my god, you’re gonna get me fired!”

  “I’m texting Jo! I’d be in trouble if don’t.”

  “Oh yes! Jo will like to hear all about yummy airman here!”

  Katniss grunts, “Ugh! Eat your snacks and go home! And please, leave Jo out of this.”

  Is the last thing I hear them say. I’m wondering who this Joe person is? It’s the third time the name creeps up in conversation, and I just don’t like the little flash of annoyance I feel when I hear it.

  ———

  It’s a slow Monday, so I give myself the day off and run a couple of errands around town: fill up the tank of the car Delly let me borrow while I’m home, call up a couple of friends to say hi, hang out with Finn during his ‘lunch break’, then go grocery shopping, because I’ve been subsisting on bakery scraps and junk food for the first week of leave, and I should at least try to maintain a healthy diet, so I don’t get too fat. Getting back in shape at training isn’t my idea of fun.

  It’s bizarre how many times I have to stop to say hi to some acquaintance while pushing my buggy around the store. Most of them are my folks’ friends, that want to see the ‘fighter boy’. Sometimes it can be too much, but I try to think of it as supportive. This people saw me growing up into what I am today. It’s understandable they want to let me know I’m making my little hometown proud, just for doing what I’m passionate about.

  What I’m not expecting is to literally bump into Katniss Everdeen in the frozen vegetable aisle.

  She’s walking backwards from the fridge with an armfull of assorted veggies, and I just happened to come around the corner too distracted, because I’m waving a little old lady from mom’s knitting club bye, to see where I’m going.

  All of Katniss frozen bags fall to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry!”

  “Oh my god!”

  We exclaim at the same time. After a second of staring at each other in disbelief, we dive down to pick up the bags.

  “No, no. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have grab all these at once.”

  “No, the fault is mine. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

  We bring the veggies to a shopping cart a foot away from Katniss, and filled to the brim with groceries, and dump the lot on the very top.

  Katniss pulls a piece of paper and a pen from the back pocket of her jeans and scratches something out, stuffing the writing materials back in their spot. She finally looks up at me, blushing as usual.

  “Um… so, Monday, Monday.” She says nervously, staring hopefully at me while balancing on the ball of her feet.

  It takes me a minute of just gawking at her puzzled, before figuring out why she’s acting so peculiar, until it clicks.

  Lyrics. She’s quoting a song.

  I smirk and answer, “Can’t trust that day.”

  She bites her lower lip, that does nothing to suppress the biggest smile I’ve seen on her so far. “Sometimes it just turns out that way.”

  I’m so enthralled watching her lips that the next line comes all choppy at first. “Every other day. Every other day of the week is fine,”

  “Yeah.” She actually sings the word, which makes me chuckle.

  We continue lobbing lyrics back and forth for a bit.

“But whenever Monday comes,”

  “But whenever Monday comes, you can find me cryin´ all of the time.”

  “Monday, Monday.”

  “So good to me.”

  “Can’t guarantee.”

  And now we’re just staring at each other in the middle of the deserted aisle, and suddenly we’re laughing loudly.

  “That was…”

  “Ridiculous!”

  “Oh, but it was great!”

  “No it wasn’t! It was so… cheesy! I’m just glad you knew the song, otherwise I would’ve looked like a total idiot.”

  She actually puts her hand on my forearm— for balance I assume— and I think this is the first time we touch, other than when we met and shook hands. My skin is all tingly where her fingers lift from.

  But our bubble of merriment gets obliterated with the literal pop of loud gum bubble popping right beside us.

  “Wow… Sunshine is onto somethin’ here, Brainless.” Says a girl with spiky, short, brown hair, wide-set brown eyes with one eyebrow arch in scrutiny, and the most obnoxious gum chewing I’ve ever seen in a female. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to Captain Muscles here?” She spares Katniss a devious glance, and then returns to scan me head to toe.

  Katniss’ lips thin out, she’s fighting off a blush, but the blood filling her cheeks is winning. Reluctantly, she turns to me, “Lieutenant, my best friend, Jo. Jo, First Lieutenant, Peeta Mellark.” She gives her friend a murderous glare.

  “You’re Joe?” I ask idiotically while narrowing my eyes at the girl… clearly female. “I thought you were Katniss boyfriend.” I extend my hand for her to shake.

  She watches my hand and lets it sit in the air for a second or two before taking it and squeezing hard. She holds a penetrating eye contact while shaking my hand. “Who says I’m not, just because I’m a girl?”

  My mouth goes dry. I scratch the back of my neck embarrassedly, I open my mouth to say something, because really, Katniss could be in a same sex relationship for all I know. Just because she gets all pink in the face when I’m around doesn’t mean she’s attracted to me… or any man for that matter.

  Katniss groans, but just as she’s trying to say something her friend speaks.

  “Johanna Mason,” Says the girl eyeing me with a devilish gleam in her brown eyes, “as deliciously awkward you guys look right now, I have to admit Brainless is not my type. Too stoic and hero like for me. But you on the other hand…” she gives me a mock roar, and Katniss turns beet red with the deepest scowl I’ve ever seen.

  “Jo!” Katniss hisses.

  Johanna rolls her eyes, “I’m just joking, for fucks sakes! Don’t get your panties in a knot, KitKat.” She blows another irritating bubble gum and smirks at me, “see you around Fly Boy!” She winks and takes the handle of the shopping cart. “Come on girlfriend, let’s pay for your shit. I’m tired of meander around like a headless chicken.”

  After waving goodbye at me woodenly, Katniss follows her friend to the registers, and I stay there wondering how the hell such a goofy, cute encounter could have just fizzled down so fast with one single pop of a gum bubble?

  ———-

  Thom is back from jury duty and the workload evens out easier with another experienced baker in the kitchen.

  Katniss has school in the evening, so her shift starts around 0800, until 17:30. Since I get to chose my own hours, as long as I show up a minimum five times a week, I decide to show up after lunch to work on an order of cupcakes easy enough for Katniss to practice the basic frosting I showed her on Saturday.

  After we’re done with those, Thom slips me a piece of paper with an order for a four tier wedding cake in fondant and sugar flowers. Thom looks absolutely delighted passing on the task to me, because after all, decorating the cakes was my specialty growing up.

  “When is this due?” I ask scratching my head with the back of my wrist, trying not to get vanilla filling on my hair.

  “Friday evening.” Says Thom gleefully turning to some easier pastry to deal with. “Figured you’d like the chance to get back on the saddle!”

  “Gee… thanks.”

  Thom smiles, “What can I say? It’s good to have you back!”

  “Let me guess, the bride is a perfectionist. A real bridezilla.”

  “Nah. Bride’s sweet as pie, the mom on the other hand… total bitch.”

  I groan. It’s always my luck, having to deal with crazy cougars, trying to live up their dreams through their daughters weddings.

  “Shit. This thing says the order was placed yesterday. Why am I getting it today? This only gives me three full days to finish.”

  “Well, your lazy ass didn’t come in yesterday, and the boss said to give you the work order, he thinks you’ll have a field day with it, ha! Better start baking those cakes, dude.”

  “Fuck it!” I hang my head low, and shuffle to the pantry to get the ingredients. It’s four tiers in a different flavor each, and one of them is supposed to be filled with fresh strawberries.

  “Mmm, I can help you… if you want. I’ve never worked with fondant, but I can mix a cake no problem, and you need four of those.”

  I look up to find Katniss’ hopeful grey eyes, watching my tower of ingredients shyly.

  “I guess I can teach you how to work with fondant while we’re at it. I’ve heard you take evening classes. We can work on the technical part of the decoration during the morning…”

  “I can come back after classes too.” She offers eagerly. “I get out at 8:15, which puts me here around 8:40 or so. Unless that’s too late?”

  “No, no, that’s perfect. Okay, partner, let’s kick some cake ass!”

  Working the cake with Katniss is actually a lot of fun. We listen to music on the iPod dock, and she makes fun of me for not liking the Beatles, but having all of Johnny Cash’ collection. It’s a moot point, since she knows all the lyrics to every Johnny Cash song that pops up in my device. It’s nice.

  She goes to school, and I take a nice three hour break. No sense working in the cake if I have to show Katniss how to work with it.

  She shows up again at 21:45, and I let her into the back door, promptly locking us in after she steps into the kitchen. The front has been closed for hours already, but I’m not very comfortable with the back unlocked at this time.

  “I just don’t get it,” she says pulling a face, sifting in the flour on the table top to knead the fondant.

  “What’s that?” I ask without lifting my yes from my own batter.

  “Oh, nothing, is just that you’re this greater than life legend here in town— you should hear Abernathy’s tall tales about you— but you’ve been cooped up in the apartment, pretty much all week, instead of going out and stuff.”

  “I’m a house wart. I rather stay in than going out. You?” I look at her under my eyelashes.

  She makes a face. “I’m antisocial according to Prim.”

  “You seem to do pretty well around me, so you’re not completely antisocial.”

  She smiles gratefully. “And I’m not sure how I manage that.” She says softly, looking down at the block of fondant we’re supposed to be working with.

  “Why is that?” I ask haltingly, a small thrilling swoop in my stomach tells me to tread carefully with her. I don’t want to do anything stupid.

  Katniss eyes take an earnest shine, and I finally understand that “Windows to the soul” thing they say about eyes. I can see so many emotions in those big, gray eyes that stare at me like I’m something really special.

  She turns to the fondant, “So, after kneading this thing, we use the rolling pin… how thin do we need it?”

  Oh she’s good! Master deflector I see. I nod almost imperceptibly staring her in the eye.

  “Well, for this cake they only want white, but other times we would have to add a couple of food coloring drops, if the order calls for it. Then we knead with a bit of flour so it doesn’t stick to the table or our fingers, and you’re welcome to wear gloves if you want to, so you don’t stain your hands.”

  I show her for a minute, then let her take over, and keep giving her tips here and there to work more efficiently.

  We put filling in all the separate flavored cakes, and prep them with frosting to place the first layer of fondant down. I tell her we will work on the individual tiers before stacking them together and go on about the correct way to lay fondant down, but her first attempt is a disaster. The fondant is too pasty and thin, so it sticks together and brakes apart like melted marshmallows.

  “I’m so sorry,” she winces. “I promise I’ll get the next one right.”

  “It’s okay, nobody gets everything perfect the first time they try something new.” I tell her softly, wiping away the table so we can start again. “It’s just sugar, you’ll get it. Here, let me help you.” I offer, standing behind her and putting my hands over hers to guide her while rolling the piece of solid icing.

  As soon as I feel her small hands under mine, and feel her lithe body shiver against mine, I realize what a total mistake this is. I should move away, really, but I don’t want her to think she’s done anything wrong, so I bite down on my stupid nervousness and keep teaching her how to make a cake.

  “Like this,” I say softer than I intended.

  Katniss follows the instructions, and then I really should move away, but she says she needs help placing the newly rolled out fondant, and I’m her teacher, I can’t just leave her there on her own; but fuck if my body is not reacting to her like I basket of hormones.

  “We… pick up the rolling pin with the layer of fondant, and carefully… unroll it on top of the cake. Don’t let the rolling pin fall on the cake. That’ll be bad.”

  She chuckles that silent laugh of hers where only a puff of sound escapes her, and her shoulders shake until she’s done laughing.

  I almost groan. The slight of her ass momentarily grazed against the front of my pants, and my dick immediately reacted to it, as it had been called to action… hell… when was the last time I had sex with anyone other than my hand?

  “Okay! Done! I’ll take it from here!” I speak breathlessly and too fast.

  “But it’s my turn to lay it down.” Katniss protests.

  “You don’t have to. I can finish myself…” fuck, “The fondant, that is.” Fuckety fuck! Shut up mouth… now!

  I have no idea why am I still bracing my arms at each side of her on the table, I really should step away now, but she tilts her head almost around to look at me, and those twin moons are so pretty and full of wonder, I can’t move.

  “How’s this?” She asks in this thin voice that tugs at me.

  I look down, and realized she’s been working on the icing all along, and other than a crinkle here, and another there, she’s pretty much done with the last cake.

  “That’s great. Thank you!”

  She smiles widely at me. “Now we just need to set it aside.” She tells me turning in my arms, with the cake in her hands. It’s the only thing that forces me to move away.

  Once she places the last tier on a shelf to rest. She looks up at me. “Thank you, mister Peeta. Working with you is such an amazing opportunity, I have no words to tell you how grateful I am for all your family has done for me.”

  “Peeta. Please.” I say quietly, coming closer to her like a magnet to another. “It’s an honor helping you. You’re a very dedicated apprentice. Tomorrow we will make flowers.”

  “Okay.” She exhales breathily, and her eyes keep dipping to my mouth. “I can’t wait…”

  I’m standing five inches from her… or at least I think that’s how far my chest is from hers.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask her suddenly.

  “I— Yes. I could eat.” Her eyes focus on my face intently. “I’ve never seen the apartment upstairs. Is it comfortable?” She asks.

  I can feel the blood pooling in my groin. “It’s great. I grew up there. I can give you a tour, if you agree to have a sandwich with me.”

  She bites her lip and nods. “Okay.”

  “Let’s go then.”

[claimedcrossbows]

The Big Setup (Bellarke Fanfic)

So I also posted this on my Fanfiction account under MsPlotTwister, so if you want to read it there you can do that as well. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13591315/1/The-Big-Setup

Anyway here’s the first Chapter, Tell me what you think and if I should continue. 

Description:  Clarke Griffin just wants to do her job as New York's Matchmaker but working side by side with her infuriating Ex Husband Bellamy Proves to be a difficult task. "Oh my God." Clarke gasps looking at the news. "What?" Bellamy asks looking at the news of a escaped convict. "Don't panic..But I think I just set my client up with a criminal!" She yells. "What?"

--

The sound of an alarm wakes her and she already knows this is going to be a very long day. But she was excited none the less. She might not have much in life at the moment, but her job was something she always looked forward too.

With that enthusiasm and a cup of coffee she gladly approached the day by looking through her phone at the schedule she had layed out for today.

She looked at the email of one of her current clients and some of the pictures they had sent and she knew she had her hands full with this one

She quickly got dressed and headed out to her office where she was more than excited to finally meet her client.

Clarke Griffin was a strange woman in many ways.

Her enthusiasm seemed to stay on a 10, her mind was constantly coming up with new ideas, and to top it off she was a very paranoid woman with many trust issues.

At least that’s what people mostly said about her who knew her.

But then again..How could she trust them?

Her out look on life was to remain positive, until of course something goes awry, then its time to panic.

And panic she did.

She was stuck in traffic in the busiest streets of New York and her appointment was in less than 5 minutes!

“Isn’t there anything you can do!?” She shrieked at her taxi driver who was struggling to keep from rolling his eyes. But he had told this woman for what must’ve been the 10th time since she got in  the car that there’s nothing he can do about the traffic conditions. Apparently their had been some really bad accident and the police had blocked off the streets. Pretty much delaying everyone who had somewhere to be.

“Uhg!” Clarke sighed looking at her phone at the time.

She released a sigh and quickly fished around in her purse for some cash, “Here this should cover it, i’m walking the rest of the way.” She said tossing him the money and quickly dashing out the taxi before the driver could even say anything.

Clarke quickly ran the rest of the way to her place of work and was regretting her decision of wearing heels because her feet were crying for an ice pack.

Clarke struggled to catch her breath as she entered the building which was actually nothing more than a condo that her Aunt had bought  in order to launch her match making business.

Yep you heard that right.

Clarke Griffin is a professional matchmaker, people email their company and give them their background information including medical records, criminal history, finance history and just about everything else you could imagine. They contact local family members and friends and get a good idea about you and then see if there’s anyone in their data base they could potentially set you up with. But if you think that is extreme they also specialize in makeovers as well, which happens to be right up Clarke’s alley, every since she was a kid she dreamed of being a fashion designer for celebrities. She wanted to see them walking down the red carpet in her fashion ideas, so she went to school as a Designer but of course getting into the industry of fashion in a place such as New York City was incredibly difficult. New York had as many fashion designers as they did Lawyers and Doctors.

So that’s when she went to her Aunt Diyoza when she heard that she was thinking about making a Match Making Company from her very own condo.

She’s been working their every since.

The only drawback is, there wasn’t many employees so Clarke was basically running things by herself.

Okay scratch that.

There wasn’t any employees, and Clarke was definitely running things by herself.

The only other person currently working there (who’s name she refused to mention) was currently on a leave of absence (busy partying all night and day)  and he never shows up.

That was until today.

“Clarke there you are.” The all to familiar voice said from the couch as he paused his video game to look at her dishelved appearance.

“Bellamy what the hell are you doing here?” She groaned, her mood worsening.

“Diyoza called me in, said we got a lot of new customers and she needs me back, I mean I can’t blame her, I am the best employee she’s got here.” He Smirked.

“Look I don’t have time for this, I have a client coming in a few minutes and-”

“Oh you mean Izzy?” He said, “Yeah she already came, I set her up with Murphy, she seems like his type.” He shrugged unpausing his game.

“You what!?” Clarke yelled.

He paused his game, knowing that she wasn’t going to let this go and turned to her giving her a shrug. “What you should be happy, I gave you the day off.” He said not knowing why she didn’t look grateful.

“Izzy is a vegetarian, Murphy isn’t!” Clarke said angrily.

“Okay, well maybe this is a good opportunity for Murphy to stop ordering KFC for dinner every night.” He shrugged not seeing the issue.

“Izzy is a sweet pollite girl, and Murohy…Well he’s Murphy!” Clarke huffeed.

Bellamy sighed running his hands through his long dark curly hair something she had loved doing once, but now the very sight of him made her nauseated.

“Uhg you make me sick.” Clarke frowned feeling the nausea build up.

“Oh yeah, here.” He said pulling something out of his jacket pocket and giving it to her.

Clarke looked at it and was surprised and irritated to see that it was a bottle of tums.

“You always say you feel ill around me, so I thought that might help.” He said smirking a mischievous look spreading through his face.

“My stomach isn’t the problem, its you.” Clarke huffed setting the tums on the table.

“Look I thought this would make you happy, I mean now you have the night off, you can relax, hang out with friends, maybe go on a date.” He said throwing that last bit in to see how she reacted.

“You know good and well i’m not dating anyone right now.” Clarke rolled her eyes at his attempt to pry into her love life.

“Really? With such a wonderful attitude I can’t imagine why.” He said sarcastically.

“You don’t get to pry into my love life, if you don’t remember, you divorced me.” Clarke spat.

“There it is, the constant reminder every time I see you, that I divorced you, Yes I divorced you Clarke, because you are a total hyperactive nut case.” He said bluntly.

“And your a playboy bachelor who wouldn’t know priorities if it bit you in the ass.” She spewed.

“Isn’t it ironic, the Match Maker can’t find a man of her own.” Bellamy rebutted.

Clarke shook her head tired of arguing with him, she walked to her office and made sure to slam the door shut to emphasize that she wasn’t happy.

She walked over to her laptop and immediately began sifting through customers who were in desperate need to find their special someone. She looked at a few of their backgrounds and started thinking of potential matches off the top of her head.

She was about to email one of her clients and tell them she might have a match for him when suddenly her door opened and a very uneasy Bellamy came in.

“What do you want Bellamy?” Clarke sighed not in the mood for any more of his help.

“There’s someone out there your gonna wanna see.” He said.

“Who?” Clarke asked standing up.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He said.

To say she was now beyond curious was a understatement, so she got up and followed him to the living room where she was met with someone she didn’t think she would ever see come through her doors.

Roan Atwood.

Famous Male Model and Actor Roan Atwood who had been missing for 5 years was standing before the both of them looking a complete and total disaster, his hair was greasy and disheveled, his clothes were dirty and in shreds  and she could smell the whisky from across the room. She looked at Bellamy in complete shock and his expression nearly mirrored hers and it was in that moment she knew this was going to be the biggest set up they ever did.

[stahlop]

Must Love Dogs (3/?)

It’s time for chapter 3!  Thanks again to @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta, especially since she posted like 3 stories this week and was being a beta for so many others.  I really appreciate all your help.

Chapter 1 2

Also on Ao3

Chapter 3

“So,” Mary Margaret started as she dished some spaghetti and meat sauce onto Emma’s plate. Emma was thankful that Mary Margaret had invited her over for dinner, as her cabinets and refrigerator were woefully bare. She would have to make a much needed shopping trip tomorrow.

“So…” Emma said back. David gave a snort from beside her, as if he knew exactly what his wife wanted to talk to Emma about. Mary Margaret shot him a dirty look.

“So, I talked to Ruby,” Mary Margaret said, composing her face back to normal. She sat down at the table after dishing out dinner to David as well and began to serve herself. David started to pass around some garlic bread.

“And?” Emma huffed.  She knew exactly where this was going, knew it would be a topic of conversation regardless, but she also secretly liked torturing Mary Margaret.

“She said you had some news to share?” Mary Margaret said even more delicately.

“Well...I did catch my skip the other day.  Idiot decided to go visit an ex -girlfriend who did not want to be visited.” Emma smiled smugly knowing this was not what Mary Margaret was fishing for.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret said, blowing out a puff of air that made the brown bangs of her short pixie cut fly up slightly. “Ruby said that you might have some other news.” David was having a hard time suppressing his laughter.

“Oh,’ Emma said coyly, “You mean about the guy I met online?” she asked as if it were an afterthought.

Mary Margaret squealed in a register that Emma was sure that if Ditie was there, only she would be able to hear.

“We want to hear everything!” Mary Margaret said finally taking a big bite of her spaghetti.

“Just for the record, some of us don’t want to hear everything.” David said pointing his garlic bread at Emma before biting into it.

Emma rolled her eyes, “We emailed through the site and he asked me for my number and personal email.” She tried to get her face to stay neutral as she said it, but she couldn’t help the corners of her lips from turning up slightly. She started to twirl her spaghetti so that her mouth might be full for the next barrage of questions Mary Margaret was going to ask her. But Mary Margaret just stared at her with the biggest grin on her face that Emma felt guilty for trying to avoid her questions.

She pulled out her phone and brought up his profile before handing the phone over to Mary Margaret to read.

“I knew that site would help you find someone Emma! Oh, he’s cute!” Mary Margaret exclaimed earning a sound of indignation from her husband.”What? He is. But don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, David.” Mary Margaret mockingly pinched his cheeks, making him blush.

“The email is already pulled up.” Emma stated taking a bite of spaghetti.

Mary Margaret swiped over to the email she had received from Killian.  Emma could swear there were tears in Mary Margaret’s eyes.

“Oh, Emma, he sounds perfect for you.” Mary Margaret said in a watery voice. Emma rolled her eyes again.

“I haven’t even met him.  He could be all talk. He could be a serial killer.” Emma protested but even she knew she didn’t mean it. She’d known from the minute she saw his profile that this man could be the one, and that scared the hell out of her.

“How can I be this head over heels over a profile and an email? I’m not that girl. I don’t do relationships.  Even if my past online dating experience hadn’t been awful, it’s doubtful that any of those guys would’ve made it past a night in the sack.” Emma said exasperated.

“That, for instance, is one of the things I don’t want to know about.” David said with a mouthful of bread. Emma and Mary Margaret ignored him.

“There’s something about him, the way he writes and the way he describes things, that gets me all shy and nervous. I feel like he could really be the one,” Emma looked up and saw the foolish grin plastered on Mary Margaret’s face, “which is really dumb because I haven’t even met him yet.” she finished quickly.

“Send him your email and your number,” David advised. Emma gave him a bewildered look. “I know it seems a little personal, but he sounds pretty direct. And you’re usually more direct when you’re not playing this weird damsel in distress thing you’ve got going on right now.”

Wow! Emma hadn’t expected David to be doling out the dating advice.  He tended to treat her like his little sister most of the time, even though she was Mary Margaret’s friend. So pushing toward a guy she met online was really not in character for him.

Emma’s expression must have given all that she was thinking away because David continued with, “Emma, all we want is to see you happy.  Plus, we all know you could kick his ass ten ways to Sunday if he pulled any crap on you.” He finished with a huge bite of his garlic bread and then grabbed another from the plate.

Emma grabbed her phone back from Mary Margaret.  David was right (who knew she’d ever think that?). She’d been looking at his profile and email as if he were a relative who lived far away and she wanted to show off his picture, but he wasn’t.  He was a living, breathing, man who was interested in her.  

“Excuse me.” Emma said, backing up her chair from the table and heading over to the couch. “I just need to send him an email real quick with my information.” 

Mary Margaret looked over at her husband, a huge smile on her face.  Then she and David continued to eat while Emma sent her message to Killian.

EKEKEK

Killian eased the key into his apartment door and was practically run over by Jolly rushing to greet him.  

“Sorry, girl.” he said as she jumped up to try and give him kisses, eventually just licking his hands instead.

“I know I’m a little late getting home.  Did Henry from across the hall take you out?” Killian checked the leash and saw that it was laying on the front table instead of hanging on the wall, his and Henry’s code so that Killian knew that Jolly had been taken care of. Henry was a good kid.  Killian would usually give Henry $10 anytime he needed Jolly walked because he was running late from work, like he was today.

He walked over to the kitchen table and set down his laptop and Chinese take out he’d brought home.  He preferred to cook, but it was already 7 o’clock.  Too late to get something defrosted, so Chinese it was. Besides, who could argue with egg rolls and Orange Chicken (no one, that’s who)?

He lived in a small one-bedroom apartment, though it was barely more than a studio.  His bedroom barely fit his queen-sized bed and a dresser.  But the rest of the place had lots of windows and a balcony, and it was an open floor plan, so it really wasn’t so bad. He could also see the ocean from his balcony, so that was a plus. In the summertime he could open all the windows, and the breeze coming off the Atlantic was amazing.

Killian grabbed some dog food from it’s container in the pantry and poured some out for Jolly.  She immediately went over and started chowing down, even though he was sure Henry had given her some earlier as well.  He added some water to her water bowl as well before settling himself down to eat his own food.

He wondered what Emma was up to tonight.  She had said she worked in bail bonds, so maybe she was on a stakeout tonight. Maybe she had a late night class at BU (he wasn’t sure if she was taking online courses or regular courses), or maybe she was studying more for the police exam.  Was she wondering what he was doing as well? 

He finished up his meal and threw the rubbish away, packing up the leftovers for his lunch tomorrow. Then he walked over to his recliner intent on catching up on some of his shows.  He hadn’t heard from Emma in two days.  Maybe he had spooked her by asking for her personal information so soon. He just wanted to cut to the chase, cut out the middleman, so to speak.

Jolly, having finished her dinner, came over to get her ears scratched, one of her favorite pastimes. Killian absent-mindedly scratched her ears while flipping through his queue of shows, trying to decide which one to watch.  It was then he realized that his backside was vibrating.

“Bloody hell!” he grumbled, realizing that he hadn’t taken his phone off of silent since leaving work. He grabbed it and began looking at his notifications. It looked like Will had been texting him to see if he wanted to grab dinner.

“Too late for that, mate”  He texted back to him. He then noticed he had an additional notification.

He had another email from Emma.

In his actual email account.

Not from the MustLoveDogs website.

Killian got up and grabbed his laptop from where he had left it and quickly pulled up his email. He preferred responding to emails on his laptop than from his phone.

Killian,

 I’ll admit, I was a bit nervous that you asked for my email and phone number.  The other dating websites I’ve been on usually had an instant messaging feature, so it was a lot easier to communicate without giving out personal information. Not that I’ve been on a lot of dating websites.  They all suck by the way.  A story for another time. But I’ve realized through just your profile and email that I’d like to get to know you better. I’d prefer email over texting as texting is basically meant for small talk. I have included my phone number though.  Do with it what you will. I’d definitely like to know about your time in the Navy and boxing and how you ended up in Boston and with Jolly.

Hope to hear from you soon (I really hate these lame ways of basically saying write back),

Emma

She had also attached a picture of Aphrodite asleep in a dog bed. 

“What should I do, Jolly? Call her tonight or send her an email?” He showed Jolly the picture of the sleeping Aphrodite. Jolly gave him a ridiculous look which Killian took to mean “How would I know, you idiot, I’m only a dog.” Killian liked to imagine that Jolly had a British accent like himself and sounded like Helen Mirren from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. She then padded over to the bed and laid down to go to sleep.

Killian snapped a picture of Jolly on his phone and decided that he would send it to Emma since she’d sent him one of her dog.  It was amazing how similar their dogs looked. A beautiful, strong woman with the same taste in pets, how much more perfect could she be?

Emma,

 Jolly is sleeping too.  She was not as impressed by your correspondence as I was. But then again, she is only a dog. Maybe she’s jealous that I have another dog on my phone. Even though her profile said she wanted a doggy friend, she’s only had me for the past year and a half. I hope our dogs get along as well as we seem to.  I prefer talking on the phone to email or texting (I completely agree about texting), so expect to hear from me some time tomorrow. I hope the rest of your night is satisfactory.

Killian

EKEKEK

“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting,” Emma said as she sat down in an oversized, plush armchair.

“I know. It feels like we’ve been emailing forever,” Killian said to her as he set down his coffee on the long table and sat down in another armchair.  His did not look as comfortable as Emma’s.

Anticipation fluttered in Emma’s stomach.  It seemed like they had been missing each other left and right. It had taken weeks to align their schedules to actually get to meet up. But something about this didn’t seem right.

She looked over in the corner to see two black and white dogs tussling with each other.

“Did you bring Jolly with you?” she inquired.

Killian nodded, taking a sip from a comically large cappuccino mug. Except that there was a flowery teapot on the table.

“You brought Ditie too,” he added.  She looked back over at the dogs and noticed that one of them was indeed Ditie. Something still wasn’t sitting right. She wondered why she would bring her dog to a coffee shop.

“Do they allow dogs in here?” Emma inquired, and then she realized, “How do you know I call my dog Ditie, I never mentioned it.” Her bail bonds instincts were starting to kick in.

She looked over at Killian who was now pouring an obscene number of sugar cubes into his cup. He opened his mouth to respond but all she could hear was The Police singing “Every Breath You Take”.

What the..? 

That sounded just like her ringtone. 

It was her ringtone.  

She searched the long table for the phone but didn’t see it anywhere.

Killian was still putting sugar cubes into his tea and singing her ringtone.

And that’s when Emma finally realized she was dreaming.

She rolled over, still half-asleep, to try and feel her phone on the nightstand. Someone was obviously calling her. By the time she felt the phone, it had stopped ringing.  She checked the time.  It was 8 AM.

“Who the hell is calling me at 8 AM on a Friday morning?” she wondered.  She checked the number.  It wasn’t work or anyone whose name was saved in her phone.  The number looked slightly familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. Well, if it was important they would leave a message.

“No more Alice in Wonderland before bed,” Emma thought, realizing that the tea party from the cartoon was featured heavily in her dream.  She had come home from Mary Margaret and David’s late last night after watching the aforementioned movie, along with copious amounts of wine, because Mary Margaret was insistent that if they were going to eat somewhat Italian food, they had to have wine with it as well. Emma’s head was not happy with that. Thank goodness she’d decided to Uber it to their apartment rather than drive her bug.

Emma was debating whether to lounge around some more or get up (she only had to put in half a day today, just filling out paperwork) when Ditie padded in and started to whine.  

“Ok, girl, I know what that means.” Emma said getting out of bed and scratching Ditie’s head. She quickly grabbed her workout clothes from off the floor and put them on. She and Ditie headed to the door so she could attire Ditie for the walk. Emma also grabbed a lightweight hoodie as the weather had a bit of a nip to it in the mornings now.

When they got to the dog park, Emma grabbed a cup of coffee, per usual, and brought out her phone to check her email and see if whomever had called had left a message.  They had.

“Hello Emma Swan.  This is Killian Jones, from the Must Love Dogs website.” Emma quickly paused the message.  Her heart was about to start beating out of her chest.  

He’d called!

He’d called and he sounded incredibly nervous. Coupled with his accent he sounded adorable.

And then it dawned on her.

He’d called and she missed it!

She dragged the message back to the start and pressed play.

“Hello Emma Swan.  This is Killian Jones, from the Must Love Dogs website. Sorry, that sounded really doltish. I had said I’d be calling you in my email last night, so hopefully you’re not screening my telephone call. I had hoped to catch you before I got into work.  You’re probably getting ready for work. It’s Friday, so I’ll be getting off at 4 today, so…. I’ll try you again later. Bye.”

“Shit!” she gasped looking at the phone.  Killian Jones had called her and she’d missed it because she’d been sleeping. And it was still too damn early to call anyone to talk about it! And then she remembered that he had said he’d emailed her the previous night.

“Shit!” she said again, because she hadn’t checked her email last night or this morning. She opened her email app and saw, that yes, indeed, he had responded to her email at around eight the night before. And he’d included a picture of Jolly sleeping.

“Awww!”

Normally, Emma would lounge at the park for a little while longer, but now she was a bundle of nervous energy. She just wanted it to be 4 o’clock so Killian would call her back.  She should have put his number in her contacts when he gave it to her, then this would not have happened. She felt like the biggest idiot.  Of course, the wine and late night Disney had not helped the situation. She immediately added his number so she would know it was him when he called later.

“Ditie! Come!” she yelled over the thrum of the dog park.  Ditie looked at her and whined as if to say “But we just got here”.  “Ditie!” Emma said a bit more impatiently this time. Ditie bowed her head and slunk over to her owner.  She knew when Emma meant business. 

“Good dog!” Emma said kneeling to clip the leash to Ditie’s harness and scratching behind her ears.  Ditie gave her a half-hearted lick.

“I know you didn’t get as much playtime as usual, but mama’s got things to do.” 

The day seemed to drag on forever. After getting home from the park, Emma got dressed for work.  She knew she only had half a day of work to do, but she needed to keep her mind off of the fact that Killian was going to call again.

Her mind started drifting while she was doing some of, what she considered, pointless paperwork.  She really hadn’t dated much.  Growing up in the foster system had not left room for relationships.  Any time she’d made a friend, she’d end up leaving.  And living in a world before email and the internet, it wasn’t easy to keep in touch. So she’d stopped trying. When she’d ended up in Boston and meeting Ruby, friends had started to come more easily. Ruby wouldn’t take no for an answer when she’d invite her places.  Asking didn’t mean she had a choice.  Emma was thankful for that now.  Without Ruby she wouldn’t have met Mary Margaret, who had been a good friend of hers in high school, and had moved to the big city with Ruby to go to college while Ruby waitressed in her grandmother’s diner. Ruby’s grandmother had called them the Three Musketeers, but after awhile Mary Margaret met David and Ruby had met Dorothy.  Sure they had tried to set Emma up, but just because they knew people who were single didn’t mean they were the right person for Emma (she grimaced when thinking about Graham, a friend of Ruby’s, who happened to be in law enforcement, and that was all they had in common).

But Killian, there was just something about him.  She hoped it wasn’t all a facade.  Something constructed for his online persona.  That his picture wasn’t a fake and everything he wrote was copied from somewhere else.  Her bail bonds instincts were not screaming at her that she was being catfished though.  Her heart was practically singing and telling her this guy was it.  Something she never thought she’d ever think in her life. Not after life had let her down so many times before.

“Hey, Emma!” The voice of her boss broke her out of her trip down memory lane. He was a short, grumpy man named Leroy, but he’d taken her under his wing when she was tired of waiting tables and taught her everything she knew about bail bonds. “Are you done with that paperwork yet?  You’ve been staring at your laptop for the past half hour and you haven’t moved a muscle.”

“Um, yes. Sorry. Just thinking,” Emma said. She finished printing out everything that was needed and handed it to Leroy. She checked the time: a little after noon. She decided to text Ruby to see if she was available for lunch. She was.

“Bye Leroy.  See you Monday.” Unless something important came up, Emma had most weekends free.  The weekends were for committing crimes, not jumping bail apparently.

Emma entered the diner and saw Ruby in their usual booth in the back that was usually reserved for the manager during lunch. Ruby now managed the diner that her grandmother owned. Emma slid into the booth and immediately started to freak out.

“I missed a phone call from him this morning.  I was asleep and I missed his damn call,” she lamented. Emma banged her arms and head on the table.

Ruby, with her wolfish grin, said nothing, just motioned for the server to come to the booth.

“Give me the roast beef sandwich with french fries and a Coke, and my friend here will have a grilled cheese, onion rings, and a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon.” Ruby turned back to Emma as the server walked away to prepare the order.

“Thanks.” Emma said.

“Look, Emma, I know you have it bad for this guy, which is so weird because you never fall for men like this, but you have to get yourself under control.” Emma attempted to interrupt at this point but Ruby gave her a look which shut her down. “Did he leave a message?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say he’d call later?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you getting all out of sorts about?” Ruby asked taking a sip of the soda that had just been placed in front of her.

“I’m just...nervous. This is not me. You’re right, I don’t get nervous over men. David said I was playing the damsel in distress the other night and to cut it out. What if I meet him and he’s nothing like I thought?” Emma asked slightly anxious. She restlessly swiped her finger through her whipped cream and licked it off.

“And what if he’s better? What if he’s the ultimate perfect man for you, Emma?” Ruby challenged back. “You need to stop asking ‘What if?’ because that will lead you down a path you don’t want to go.” Ruby stared at her until Emma nodded her understanding.

“Now stop freaking out so we can eat lunch together, because I have a feeling that once you two meet, I’ll never get to have you to myself again,” Ruby said with a huge grin on her face.

It was two by the time Emma and Ruby finished lunch.  Emma headed back to her apartment and then took Ditie out for a walk. She might have gone back to the park, but she had too much nervous energy to work off. They walked around the neighborhood.  Emma wondered where Killian’s work was.  Most likely near the shore since it was a boat touring company.  Although, maybe he worked out of a corporate office somewhere else. Technically, she could just look up the address, but she wanted to find things out organically, rather than research.

After an hour of wandering around, Emma and Ditie finally headed home.  Ditie immediately lapped up the water in her bowl and then padded over to her dog bed.  She huffed a few times while she circled around and then flopped down for a nap.

Emma would have loved to take a nap as well, but she was not going to risk missing Killian’s phone call.  Instead, she put on the Food Network and mindlessly watched one of their many cooking competition shows.

At exactly 4 o’clock, Emma’s phone rang.

“Be cool, Emma, be cool.” she said to herself.  She let it ring twice before she picked it up, not wanting to come off like she was desperately waiting for his call.

“Hello?” she said casually.

“Emma Swan? It’s Killian Jones. It’s great to finally hear your voice,” he said.

“Yours too. I’m so sorry I missed your call this morning. A little too much wine last night and some weird dreams had me completely out.” She said.

“Weird dreams?” he responded.  God, his voice was so much better than on the voicemail.  She could only imagine how it would be in person.

“My friend, Mary Margaret, and I decided to watch Alice in Wonderland, while drinking wine. So, I dreamed that we were on a date and it had some overt tea party themes going on.” Emma said.

“Dreaming of me already?” Killian responded with a slight hint of arrogance, but nothing too off-putting.  She did just tell him he was in her dream. Emma responded with an eye roll but also and embarrassed giggle.

Killian thought that giggle was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Look, Emma,” Killian began, “I know this is extremely short notice, but would you be interested in going out with a dashingly, handsome man tonight?” He held his breath.

Emma paused thinking of how to respond, “Is George Clooney in town? I thought he was married?” 

Killian let out a barking laugh. “Ok, I deserved that.” He paused to regroup, “But seriously, are you available tonight?”

“Yes, “ Emma began, not even giving any pretense that she might have to think it over, “I would love to go out with you tonight, Killian.”

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged when other chapters post.

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious

[treehousepublishing]

Multiply Me | Chapter 33

Synopsis: Ella Sommers decides her biggest mission is also her last. Despite wanting to correct the Reestablishment’s mistakes, there are bigger things at stake now. Things not even her friends can know about.

A/N: Reminder that I only post Multiply Me in this account and my actual writeblr is @beanenigma

AO3 link | First Chapter | Index

ELLA

“You sure have a lot of friends, mom.” Connor says as I wrap him up in a towel after the shower. Pyp is already asleep in the other room, exhausted from all the excitement of finally getting taken flying. “Winston and Ian and Adam, and Alia and Sonia and Sara…”

He names, like a list that he memorized, as I put him in adult pajamas and start to roll up his sleeves. I smile. I’m glad he likes my friends. I help him dry his hair.

“It’s not what I thought soldiers would be like.”

I sigh, hoping I could unsay all the things I had to tell him during the trip. I kneel in front of him. 

“Life is not all black and white, baby.” When he’s fully dressed I sit him at the closed toilet, brushing his hair. “They’re great people forced into terrible things. Just like me and your dad.” 

Connor nods, thinking. 

“Did you meet dad at the same time you met them?” 

I fight the urge to say “one of the times”. I take his hand and pull him back into the main room. My old tent is exactly how we left it, down to the stuff we chose to leave behind. I take Connor with me to the living area, turning the lamp on, making sure it’s pointing away from Pyp. 

The pictures Nazeera gave me were inside an envelope in my pocket. I take them off and smile. I show Connor the picture of me and his dad, barely older than his sister, at the bottom of the stairs on the very house we live today. 

“You see, Connor… Your dad and I… We met a long time ago. When hope was low and fear was high… A group of people decided they could profit from the state of things. They called themselves the Restablishment...” 

JAMES

Adam is getting ready for work. Alia, in pajamas, makes him a cup of coffee. She gives him a kiss on the cheek. I notice he stiffens a bit and Alia does too. She starts to pull away, but he pulls her closer again, giving her a fragile smile and kissing her forehead. I avert my eyes. It has been like this for a while. 

Alia wishes us good night softly as she goes to bed. Adam sits down next to me on the couch to drink his coffee. His eyes follow Alia until the door of the room closes. He sets his drink aside, looking at me. 

“Did she tell you?” He asks, totally unprompted. 

I have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Adam tenses up, looking back at the closed door of the room. “Dude, what?” 

“It’s not funny, James. If that was your idea of a lesson, it didn’t work.” 

“A lesson? Are you feeling alright?” 

He breathes out, shaking his head. 

“Alia is pregnant.” He confesses in a low voice, taking a sip of his coffee. I fight my shock. “But you already know that. Right?” 

“No! Adam, that’s great! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I’m freaking out, dude.” His hands go through his hair. By the shape it’s taking, it seems like he’s been doing it a lot. “I don’t know how to be a dad. And I wasn’t planning to. At least not now.”

He lost me. I’m super confused. 

“What do you mean you don’t know how to be a dad? What does that make me, then? Did I happen to raise myself?” 

“James…”

“Adam. You’re being stupid. Why not now? Nothing has happened here in so long… And we have a house and food and jobs... “ 

“Yeah, but for how long? How long until the running starts again? Before we have to pack up and leave everything behind? How long until everything burns down and we have to rebuild? How long until we’re using our powers every day again?” 

I squeeze his shoulder. This is the most I’ve seen him speak in… Boy, in years. I just wish it wasn’t complete nonsense. 

“Never. It’s over.” I say, slowly, hoping to get through his thick skull. “You sound just like Juliette and Warner. You know where that took them? They live in the middle of nowhere, all alone and are terrified of their own friends. Their kids don’t even know the full extent of their powers. Is that what you want?” 

His face is rigid. There’s a crease between his brows. 

“So I was right. You brought her here to give me a lesson.”

“No, you dumb ass. I didn’t even bring her here. Pyp showed up here by accident.” I shake my head, resting my feet on the coffee table. I take a deep breath. “But I’m glad she did came. Because you were useless in getting our brother to talk to us. Maybe now we might… I don’t know. Also, you saw it yourself. They’re doing it. And they’ve been doing a long time. Warner is doing it. You should see how those kids look at him. They love him so much… And he loves them.” 

He doesn’t answer. He takes another sip of his coffee, but I doubt he can even taste it. I ruffle his hair like he used to do to mine when I was a kid. 

“Listen, Adam. You’re gonna be a great dad. You are.”

He nods and gives me a crooked smile. 

“I did do a goob job on you, didn’t I?

“Don’t get cocky. I’m also crazy smart. Now, go to work. I gotta get to bed.”

tag list: @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @zarleybookworm @mariamuses

[rainoverthemountains]

So I wrote a Twist-story

I absolutely adore @itsladykit ‘s boy Twist from her Twistfell AU. Actually, I adore all of her boys from all of her AUs, so much so that I wanted to write a story about them. Unfortunately, the more I love a tough and cool character, the more I love hurt/comfort involving that character. Fortunately, Lady Kit is fantastic at providing that. Unfortunately, I wanted even more, and I was also sad that Twist is so hopeless about his LV problem, so this story came to mind. It sprang from Lady Kit’s story Bucket List (the AO3 version), so it makes more sense if you read that first (although if you’re considering reading this and haven’t already read Lady Kit’s stuff, what are you doing here? Go read her stories, she’s incredibly awesome).

I’m hesitant to write it because it seems strange to write hurt/comfort with someone else’s characters (ignoring the fact that all fanfiction uses someone else’s characters) but Lady Kit does like hurt/comfort and has stated that people are free to write in her worlds, and it doesn’t get into any subject that she has stated she wants to avoid, so I decided to give it a try. I also don’t know what I’m doing with writing a story and posting it to the internet, but we’ll see how it goes. Lady Kit please don’t hate me if you see this and don’t like it.  I’ll take it down or change it if you want. I’m sorry I’m awkward. 

So now I will post this and go hide.

Summary: There’s a cure for LV (probably). It’s completely safe (probably). It’s a highly unpleasant experience (definitely). Twist only cares about that first statement. He probably should have paid a little more attention to the other two. But what does it matter? He’s getting what he wants, and he has the best friends and family in any universe to help along the way.

Chapter 1

“Gah! What the hell is their problem? Don’t they realize what I have here?” Iggy snarls at the review panel’s response to her official report, slamming her bowl of ramen on the desk before sheepishly wiping up the noodles that spill over the side. After the sudden increase in funding from an anonymous donor, the LV reduction project has progressed beyond her wildest dreams. She’d honestly been losing hope just a few months ago, but access to any resources she can imagine has changed things. Well, access to resources and a little creative bending of surface laws on ethical treatment of research subjects. 

“Those damn laws,” she growls. She’d looked into them at the urging of her Taleverse counterparts, and, fine, maybe some of her methods are just a little bit illegal here. But those laws just don’t take into account the importance of her work! Following all of the required procedures could delay the project for years, maybe decades. Monsters don’t want to wait decades to get rid of LV, and that includes her research subjects. A few might have melted in the process, but that was only in the beginning and those monsters were too far gone into their LV to care anyway. Besides, that problem is long since solved. While her more recent subjects didn’t particularly enjoy the treatment, they all came out of it alive and with lower LV. They got what they wanted, however much they might have complained along the way. The point is, she’d created the impossible, a drug that can dissolve LV without dissolving the rest of the monster. 

“It doesn’t even do any permanent damage to the subject’s soul anymore! What can they possibly have to complain about now?” she mutters, reading further into the report.

“‘Promising, but requires further testing,’ my ass.” She’s done the testing. She’s shown that it works. The subject pool is a little limited, but the trends are consistent and easily extrapolated. Of course, ‘Extrapolation outside the range of available data is not sufficiently reliable to support approval for mass production,’ according to several reviewers. 

“Well, maybe they have a point there,” she allows. “A slight one.” Extrapolating from an LV of 9, the highest of her successful test subjects so far, to the full range of monsters who need the treatment might be going a little too far. 

“Well what am I supposed to do about it?” She throws up her hands in exasperation. They want all research participation to be voluntary, but they also want the treatment tested on high LV monsters. “Have they ever met a monster with high LV!?” Not exactly the most cooperative research subjects. Some of them might say they want to get rid of their LV, but just try sticking a needle in their soul and see how long they keep cooperating. An uncooperative high LV monster can cause a lot of trouble. She shudders. There’s no way she’s dealing with that again. Then there’s the subjective data. Monsters on the edge of losing their minds are terrible at answering questions about the experience during treatment, and the panel refuses to accept her results without some form of patient report.

Ugh. Those self-righteous assholes want to deny her brilliant, revolutionary cure to all of monster-kind on the basis of a few technicalities. She taps her claws against the desk, fuming. “There has to be a way around this.” If she can just find someone, anyone, with high LV who is reasonably sane and would be motivated enough or have little enough sense of self-preservation to be a cooperative research subject…

Oh. Well of course there’s Papyrus. Well, a Papyrus, the one from her universe. The crazy one who goes by Twist now. That bastard has been on the edge of losing it for years but has never quite tipped over the edge. She nearly had him a few years ago, back when she first started her work underground, but his brother talked him out of it. Undyne kept trying to convince the little fluff ball for her, but eventually they’d given up. But now… Things are different now. Not with the fluff ball, but if she can just go around the fluff ball…

Twist is losing his mind. Anyone even tangentially acquainted with that multi-universal pack of skeletons knows that. Anyone with any basic understanding of LV should know that. The fact that he’s kept it mostly together this long suggests a level of determination or attachment or stubbornness or something that most monsters don’t have. Maybe enough of it to actually go through with the treatment? And based on some of the stunts she’s heard of, a high sense of self-preservation won’t be a problem. So, highly motivated, unlikely to be scared away by any necessary unpleasantness, really not much to lose given the deadline he has to know he’s living under, and LV high enough that no one can say she’s extrapolating outside the range of her data. He’s perfect. Now she just has to get to him where no one else will have a chance to talk him out of it, at least until it’s too late to change his mind.

***

All that being said, it seems best to approach Twist at work, away from all the others. Undyne still keeps track of all possible troublemakers from their universe so it’s easy to find out where he works. That’s how she finds herself greeting a pair of skeletal legs sticking out from underneath a car.

“Twist? Is that you under the car?” she calls.

“Yep, I’m the only skeleton workin’ here so if yer talkin’ to a skeleton under a car it’s prob’ly me.” He rolls out from under the car and waves. “Hey, Iggy. Whatcha doin’ ‘round here? Havin’ car trouble? We’ll getcha fixed up in no time.”

“No, no car trouble. Actually, I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” Twist teases with raised browbones, “well now ya got my interest. Does yer girl know ‘bout this proposal? I’m up fer anythin’, but I’m not so sure she is.”

“Not that kind of proposal!” Fellverse monsters shouldn’t blush this easily.

“What kind of proposal it is, then? Does everyone have ta be dressed, or is that negotiable?”

“It’s not that kind of proposal! Forget that I said the word proposal. It has nothing to do with a proposal. Can you please try to be serious for one minute?”

“Proposals can be very serious.” Iggy glares and Twist grins. “Fine, fine, what’s this not-proposal ya got fer me?”

“You know what I’ve been working on since Asriel’s coronation, don’t you?” Twist abruptly loses his teasing air.

“I do. Think I’ve told ya before that I’m not really in’erested in meltin’, though.”

“Oh, no, the research is way past that point. No one’s melted in months, well, I mean a little bit, but not melted, melted, and I’ve got that part worked out too. Actually, that’s what I came here to tell you. I’ve found a cure!” Twist’s jaw drops.

“What? Ya found… what?”

“A cure for LV! Money from a new major donor gave me access to equipment and materials that I never dreamed of, which let me break through a few major obstacles that had stumped me for years, and now the treatment is already in clinical trials and it works! It really works!” Twist stumbles against the car and decides to sit down before he falls down as his legs give out in shock.

“Are, are ya serious?” Iggy nods enthusiastically. “Yer not exaggeratin’, or brushin’ over some technicalities, or playin’ some sick practical joke ‘cause I swear if you are ya won’ leave this place alive, or…”

“No, no, no, none of that. It’s not an easy cure like ‘take a pill, then get all better right away’ easy, and like I said, it’s still in clinical trials so it’s not approved for the mass market yet, but it’s real and it works.”

“When can I have it?”

“Once it makes it through clinical trials it will have to be approved by a review board and the sovereigns, so whenever all that is done is when it will be available to the general public.” She’s got him. She’s definitely got him. Now is the time to reel him in.

“An’ when’ll that be?

“I don’t know. The real holdup is the clinical trials. I need to show that it’s safe and effective in monsters across the whole range of possible LV, and volunteers with high LV are hard to find. The highest I’ve had so far is 9.” Twist’s sockets narrow. He’s clearly caught on to what she’s doing.

“An’ I suppose ya came here today hopin’ ta find a volunteer.”

“Well, yes. I didn’t think you’d mind. It would give you access to the treatment months or even years earlier than you’d have it otherwise and I know LV is a particularly time-sensitive issue for you.” 

“Mhmm. Can’t deny ya’ve got a point there. An’ can ya guarantee I won’t melt?”

“Absolutely no melting. I’m not saying the treatment will be fun. It’s actually pretty painful and can go on for days, even weeks to get rid of as much LV as you have. You’ll probably want to come up with something to tell your friends and family unless you want them worrying about you the whole time. But won’t it be worth it to come home free of LV and having paved the way for everyone else to be free of LV too?”

“So that’s the whole story, huh? I come with you, get this ‘treatment,’ be miserable for a few weeks an’ then I‘m cured? Why do I suspect yer leavin’ somethin’ out?”

“I’m really not. I mean, I haven’t explained every detail, but I will if you come back to the lab with me. I’ll explain the whole process and you can back out at any time before we start, but I know you’re not going to want to because I know you want this. Come on, do you really want to wait around until you hurt someone or lose your mind? I’ve worked with plenty of monsters who lost themselves to their LV-”

“An’ melted quite a few of ‘em.”

“-and that’s not something you want to go through, or put your little brother through. I know you two are close. Just imagine what it would be like for him if one day you attack him, or if he finds out you just went crazy one day and you’re never coming back, or if you kill yourself to keep that from happening.”

“Ok, yes, I get it! I don’ need ta hear it, I already know all that shit!”

“Now imagine coming home to him and telling him truthfully that none of that is ever going to happen, that all of your LV is gone and you can live the rest of your lives without ever worrying about it again. Imagine the same for your friends, each of them losing the LV that’s been weighing on them or their loved ones for years. Imagine what it’ll do for monster-human relations when humans can no longer point to high LV monsters to prove that all monsters are dangerous and shouldn’t have any rights. Imagine-”

“That’s enough! Ya think I don’ know what gettin’ rid of LV would mean? Think I don’ think about it every fuckin’ day?”

“I know you do. That’s why I know you want this. If you want to eliminate LV, and I know you do, then come help me get rid of it. We have the power to do something completely, unequivocally good, here. Just come to my lab and we can do it. We can do it today!”

“Ok.”

“You know you want to-”

“I said ok!” Twist snaps. “You can stop yer grand speech. ‘M convinced. Let’s go cure LV. Jus’ lemme finish with this car an’ I’ll go take off work an’ tell my bro that ‘m going on vacation fer awhile. He’ll be annoyed I didn’t warn him but he won’ be that surprised that I went off on some random trip.”

chapter 2

[at1stsoo]

Recap of last year’s fics

It’s time to reflect on last year, which was my second calendar year for writing but my first full year, so here’s a fic meme rundown on my stories from 2017. (Fic links here will be for AFF, but I’ll link my ao3 account at the end for anyone who prefers that platform.)

Total stories published: *This depends on whether you’re looking on AFF or ao3. It’s 9 on AFF (where Orbiting Bodies is all together), 14 on ao3. And then I did 5 drabbles that were just on Twitter/Tumblr if those count?

Total Word Count: ~125k

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? Definitely more. I had embraced the idea of continuing to write for 2017, but I thought it’d be here and there, not so continuously?

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? All Kaisoo still, but I did write Xiuchen almost as equally in Sometimes, Legends Lie. I actually almost listed them as the primary pairing, haha, just to throw people off my trail in the Mythology fest, but the heart of the story is more Kaisoo (even if Xiuchen got equal ‘screen’ time). I’ve written Chanbaek as a side pairing, but that’s not new.

New genre: I’m out here writing mythology with world building requirements? Soulmate au? Action/Adventure? Basically anything that’s not slice of life, I’m still surprised I did it. What’s your own favorite story of the year? I think… I have to give the nod to Signal Lost (& Found). But I’m really proud of how I ventured out with Campaigning for Your Heart at the start of 2017, so I’ll mention that one, too. Did you take any writing risks this year? Lots? I hadn’t written much humor (a little near the end of Waxing & Waning), so Campaigning was a risk. Uhhhh also all the smut. Which I hadn’t tried wholeheartedly until Campaigning.

Runner up: Of Keepsakes and Kisses, but it got a lot of love during the Best Days of Our Lives fest on LJ. The most fun story to write: What the Nightingale Spies. It ended up being longer in the middle chapters than I’d planned bc I was having fun writing the flirting and the missions. And the reception has been great - I love laughing with you guys in the comments. The story with the single sexiest moment: Ch 12 of Orbiting Bodies (Jongin’s New Favorite Song) - the bathroom scene OR Campaigning for Your Heart - Soo using his fancy tie on Nini The most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: Uh… the epilogue of For Me, You’ll Always Be 18 was written right after New Year’s last year, so… yeah, that. The story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: Signal Lost (& Found). I didn’t know Kyungsoo’s character super well when I first outlined the story, since I was focused on Jongin’s POV and his journey. I kinda kept Nini’s mindset a lot in the beginning of writing that story, to try and capture his fears and doubts faithfully before letting myself 'learn/see’ Kyungsoo more clearly once they were ready to meet. The hardest story to write: What the Nightingale Spies. It was supposed to be my easy going, no stress writing project amid the fests. Ha. HA. But I’m very proud of what I’ve managed to do with it. The biggest disappointment: I don’t know that I have one? Maybe not spending as much time on my Orbiting Bodies chs as I 'should’ sometimes. I prioritize speed to churn those out in the moment when something Kaisoo happens, so I know the quality often isn’t there in the same way as much of my other writing. (But it’s really fun to fangirl with you all right as stuff happens!) The biggest surprise: That I’m even closer with my squad (that I met here on AFF thru reading/writing) than I was last year. That Indi is my fic wife and I get to beta just about everything of hers and she’s there for me, too, whenever I need her? How did I get so LUCKY?!? The most unintentionally telling story: Uh… What the Nightingale Spies is a pretty big ode to Kyungsoo’s voice, which I love. Favorite Opening Line(s): “Ayyyy, who left a sock in the fridge?” Chen whines.

“LEFT a sock in the fridge? Don’t you mean who put a sock in the fridge? Don’t normalize it. Since when is the office refrigerator an appropriate place to store hosiery?” Wendy asks between bites of her muffin. - What the Nightingale Spies

Favorite Closing Line(s): I’m gonna be insufferable here and say I love just about all my closing lines. It’s something I actually spend a fair amount of time on.

Top favorites: Signal Lost (& Found), Sometimes Legends Lie, and Ch 8 of Orb Bodies (The Space Between Right & Wrong). The first two are major spoilers to the fics, so here’s the ending of the OB chapter (Soo’s sad poem in the shape of a broken heart)-

Unhealthy, maybe But I can’t help believe.

In another place, In another time, You’d still Be Mine.

Favorite 5 Lines from Anywhere:

I can’t do this properly bc I hate potentially spoiling anything; here’s a half-assed attempt:

““Why on earth would I miss having my eyes assaulted by routinely bad dye jobs and socialist propaganda?” Kyungsoo retorts while calmly packing up all his things into his Fendi bag, taking longer than normal to gather up his myriad of note-taking materials. Is he lingering? He’s not lingering. Why would he linger.” - Campaigning for Your Heart

“Long ago they might have tried brushing off each other’s compliments with a self-effacing, ‘No I’m not,’ but they’ve grown comfortable over the years in accepting those sincere endearments. The beauty of a love fully bloomed, where fear of seeming immodest or worrying the other is only pandering has long since faded away.” - Of Keepsakes and Kisses

““Settle down, drama llama. Maybe you’re just taking my advice to calm your tits too seriously, and while you would’ve bent over for any dick yesterday, you’re limp for even Gong Yoo today.” - Signal Lost (& Found) [my real fave lines from this fic are in the final scene]

"A thrill runs through Kai’s body. “Oh. Well that’s, um, that’s good,” he says tentatively, not wanting the eagerness to burst out like a fucking Bat-Signal in the night sky.” - What the Nightingale Spies

“I’ve choked guys out with my thighs before.” Great, that’s an image Jongin will never get out of his head. Might as well chisel it on his bedroom ceiling - it’s all he’s going to see when he tries to sleep tonight, he just knows it. - What the Nightingale Spies

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated: 1. Jongin standing in the art gallery in Signal Lost (& Found)

2. The moment Kaisoo meet in What the Nightingale Spies

3. Kyungsoo and Jongdae’s conversation in Tartarus in Sometimes, Legends Lie

4. The pamphlets falling around Kaisoo when they kiss in Campaigning for Your Heart

5. Kaisoo standing together, holding hands and watching the sunset on the back of Soo’s yacht in Sail Away With Me Fic-writing goals for 2018:

Hmmm, trying a new genre like either fantasy/mama AU or wolf AU. Finishing the epilogues I promised for my fest fics.

Thank yous:

To everyone who’s become a friend, a reader, or a commenter. You guys are awesome and a MAJOR reason why I’m still writing and writing a lot. my ao3 account with works sorted by popularity in case you want to check out any of the ones I mentioned in this recap.

[cuthian]

Starting Over Chapter One

Welcome to the second-to-last installment of this series (probably, honestly, I didn't mean for there to be as many parts as there are already)!

This fic is focused on both Thor and Steve's journeys, and sets the scene for the main fic, the one that follows this one, the one you've all been waiting for :) There are two chapters fully focused on Thor's journey, so should you wish to skip those, check the notes at the top of the chapter! I'll definitely mention them :)

I expect I'll update this once a week (it's fully written) and hopefully will be able to upload the final installment after I've posted the final chapter of this one!

As always, much love and gratitude to my lovely Juulna, who dragged me through all of this, and kicks my ass into gear when it's needed.

Let us know what you think!

Love, Annaelle

Starting Over

Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t letting go, but rather starting over.

—Nicole Sovaugn

Chapter One

RUMORED CELEBRITY COUPLES WE ALL *HOPE* ARE REAL

The celebrity rumor mill is always churning. While it is mostly tittle-tattle, there are certain romance “news” items that, in our heart of hearts, we’re dying to be true. From co-stars with unbelievable chemistry to sure-to-be-legendary duos, here are the pairs we have our fingers crossed for.

10. Nikki Reed & Ian Somerhalder

[...]share a common interest in playing vampires—with Reed’s Rosalie in Twilight to Somerhalder’s Damon in The Vampire Diaries—but also have several common friends. Both are close with Nina Dobrev—Somerhalder’s ex-girlfriend—and Ashley Greene[…]supposed reports of their developing relationship since July, and they have adopted a horse together.

[…]as of yet no official confirmations have been made.

[…]

7. Natasha Romanoff & Steve Rogers

[…] Rogers and Romanoff have been spotted out together on several occasions, ranging from coffee runs—such mundane activity for such extraordinary people—to trips to Coney Island and Avengers Tower[…]The outings have set many tongues wagging, implying a scandalous relationship between the Captain and his Avengers co-worker, despite official, repeated statements that Captain Rogers is still grieving his former life and is not interested in forming romantic attachments.

[…]Captain was also linked to former Army Captain Rebecca Barnes, before she confirmed her own relationship—see No 2 on this list![…]whatever is going on between Captain America and the women in his life, one thing is certain: we would all like to be rescued by this star-spangled man with a plan!

[…]

5. Zac Efron & Leah Michelle

[…]big surprise for everyone! These two have known one another for several years, but have recently been photographed packing on the PDA on a yacht in Italy in July[…]possibly nothing more than a summer fling, but a reliable source told E!online that Efron likes that she is laid-back and he can relate to her. He is, apparently, attracted to her great attitude, and they understand one another.

[…]

2. Rebecca Barnes & Thor of Asgard

This surprise couple accidentally got caught on camera in a picture posted to Tony Stark’s Twitter account on the 4th of July last year[…]emphasis on “accidental”, considering the couple was only barely visible in a corner of the picture that featured almost all of the Avengers.

[…]lo and behold, it clearly showed Rebecca Barnes, seated on a barstool next to who appears to be Captain Rogers, wrapped in an intimate embrace with none other than the Prince of Asgard, looking real cozy together. Gotcha!

[…]picture remained on Tony Stark’s Twitter account without further comment from any of the Avengers for 72 hours before a press conference was held to confirm the relationship between the two, though insistences were made on their relationship remaining casual for now. “They’re having fun, they like each other, but neither of them wants to be in a serious relationship right now.”

Casual seems to be working for the couple though, because all appearances point to them still being together two years after their first press conference!

[…]only confirmed couple on this list!

—M.S. Sura, E! Magazine, « Rumoured Celebrity Couples », July 2013

————————

Washington D.C., United States of America

August 9th, 2015 – 5:19 AM

Steve

Steve liked going for a run in the morning.

When he and Becca had first moved to D.C., he had felt at a loss—he’d never really lived anywhere but in New York, and D.C. had felt like an unknown entity, nothing like the city he’d been born and raised in. It was… It was quieter, in a way, less crowded and less intense than New York had been, and Steve had both hated and loved it with equal measure during their first few weeks there.

Running in the morning had been something Karen the therapist had suggested when he’d originally confessed to feeling antsy and cooped up when there were no missions to be done, and no bad guys to fight.

It’d become a way to blow off steam, to get rid of the horrid feeling of inactivity, and to get to know the city he’d be living in for the foreseeable future. Becca hadn’t really understood—nor had Steve expected her to, considering it would’ve involved leaving her bed before she absolutely had to—and though Thor, bless him, had done his very best to give it a try, he really didn’t understand the appeal of running without chasing something.

Steve, however, loved it.

Running was one of the very few activities where he could let go of all restraint and just go, without having to worry that he was going to hurt someone, or break something irreparably. Running allowed him to test the very limit of the serum without truly having to worry, and it was a feeling so incredibly freeing it made him feel dizzy the first time he’d realized.

He’d learned to appreciate D.C. for its own merits, over time. He loved New York and he would always consider Brooklyn home in a way nowhere else could be, but here… Here he could walk down the street without getting pulled aside for selfies and autographs constantly. He could run for hours without paparazzi not-so-subtly trying to sneak pictures of him.

He could visit Peggy, who had—very reluctantly—taken up residence in a care home close to his and Becca’s house, after a nasty fall that broke the femur bone in her left leg in two places.

New York was not so very far away either, and when they wanted to visit Tony and the others, the flight there usually didn’t take them very long. Steve felt more settled here, and much less anchored in the past, than he had in New York, although it had taken him a long time to admit it.

Of course, it wasn’t like Steve loved everything about their life in D.C. He’d initially loved the job, and the way it gave him a sense of purpose in his life, but the intensity of some of the Agents put him off, and he decidedly disliked the way everyone had had set expectations of who and what he was supposed to be—both as a leader in the field and as a person.

He loathed the way Fury treated him sometimes, for that matter, like he was some dumb kid who didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He hated when Fury sent him on missions with people who had their own missions, when he was expected to lead people who had their own agendas and their own timetables.

He especially disliked the agents that Fury had set to tail him at all times—he wasn’t supposed to know they were there, but it seemed they’d all conveniently forgotten he was good friends with the Black Widow and Hawkeye, and that he lived with Becca Barnes, who had the uncanny ability to spot agents, no matter how well they disguised themselves.

He hated them, but, over the course of the past four years of living in the 21st century, two of which he’d spent working with S.H.I.E.L.D., he’d learned to pick his battles. There were bigger things going on in his life than trying to figure out which hapless idiot they’d sent to try to tail him on his run today.

There was, for instance, a new guy—not an agent, Steve thought—running on his preferred route.

Steve didn’t tend to run the same route every day, because he’d get bored and probably run into a tree or something, and he didn’t quite fancy the idea of having to explain to Fury—or worse, Tony—why there were gossip rags with the headline “Captain America Can’t Handle Morning Wood” or something equally ridiculous.

Also, by changing up his route regularly, he was able to figure out how long it took S.H.I.E.L.D. to figure out where he was. The longest it had ever taken them was fifteen minutes, and Steve was pretty sure they’d only figured him out because he’d stopped to take a phone call from Becca.

This route, though, starting at the World War II memorial, crossing Inlet Bridge and going past the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, was one of Steve’s favorites to run. It took him past his favorite sites in the city, and ended whenever he ran past the cute little bakery a few blocks from the Holocaust Memorial Museum with the best croissants he’d had on this side of the Atlantic. There weren’t usually a lot of people around at this time of morning, because Steve could admit that he was slightly overzealous when it came to running in the morning—as in leaving before the sun was up, and not coming back until at least two hours later—and it was easy to notice when there was a new fellow maniac who liked to exercise before dawn.

Steve let his eyes trail over said new maniac’s back appreciatively.

He definitely looked good.

He felt a pang of guilt—much less debilitating than the stifling sense of dread and guilt and horror it had once been—and shook his head, pushing himself to run a little faster, to pass this new, cute, unknown entity and leave him behind, because for all that Steve was doing pretty well, he didn’t think he was ready to acknowledge when he actively thought someone was cute.

It was different than when he went on dates because Natasha set him up. Those were nearly always women, and much as Steve appreciated Nat’s effort, they were never into him for him.

That, in itself, was enough of a turn off.

The fact that they were absolutely never his type was just an easy excuse to give Nat when there were, inevitably, no second dates. This, though, he thought as he caught up to Cute Fellow Maniac… this felt different.

“On your left,” he bit out as he ran past New Cute Fellow Maniac, barely allowing himself a glance to look at the other guy, refusing to see, because that would mean he actively liked someone who wasn’t Bucky, and he wasn’t sure he could do that.

He’d talked about that with Karen-the-therapist at length too.

After he’d seen Thor make an effort to let go of his promise to only ever love Loki, to give his relationship with Becca an honest chance, he’d wondered, because he’d been convinced that Thor was the only person Steve had ever met that understood.

He’d understood why Steve just… couldn’t.

Why the very thought of being in love with someone other than Bucky made him feel sick to his stomach, like he’d be betraying everything he had shared with Bucky, like he’d be making a mockery of Bucky’s memory if he did allow himself to move on. Going on dates with women had been much easier than this, because… well, they were women.

For all that Steve was hopeless when it came to flirting with them—or even just talking to them—they didn’t run much of a risk of reminding him of Bucky. It wasn’t so very hard to not give them a chance.

He knew it was poor manners, to give a lady hope where there was none, but… it got his friends off his back, and it was easy to let it all wash over him.

Men, though…

He knew Bucky would hate that Steve felt that way, and that he might even be insulted to learn Steve hadn’t tried to fuck his way through the 21st century in his name yet, because Bucky had been nothing if not a realist (and also a horny bastard), and whereas Steve had been—still was—optimistic enough to believe he could spend his entire life loving just the one person, Bucky had… Bucky had said things that made Steve think—now, in hindsight—that he’d never really believed he’d make it out of the war.

Maybe he’d always known Steve would, eventually, have to move on.

Steve sighed and slowed down, eyeing the split in the path that came up ahead of him contemplatively. The left branch would loop him back to roughly where he’d seen Cute New Maniac, and might give him a second chance.

The other…

“Come on, Rogers,” he told himself firmly. “Make an effort.”

He took the left path.

————————

Washington D.C., United States of America

6.03 AM

Steve

Alright, so maybe he hadn’t stopped to talk to Cute New Maniac right away.

He watched, slightly amused, as the other man limped his way to a patch of grass and collapsed back against a tree, wheezing a little. Steve felt a little bad—just a little—but then, he hadn’t made the other man try to race him.

Honestly, after the third time Steve had lapped him, Cute New Maniac should really have realized that he wouldn’t actually be able to keep up with Steve even if he did try.

Which he did.

It hadn’t really gone his way.

“You need a medic?” he blurted before he could think about it, moving towards where the other man sat with a grin that was probably just the right side of smug. Steve felt a little gratified when the other man laughed, shaking his head a little before he replied.

“I need a new set of lungs.” He laughed and pushed himself up a little, glancing towards Steve with a smirk. “You just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

Steve grinned a little.

It wasn’t like he could come right out and say he looped around four times with the express purpose of seeing Cute New Maniac again, so he shrugged, putting his hands on his hips in a way he knew accentuated the contrast between his broad shoulders and narrow hips. “Guess I got a late start,” he quipped cheekily.

“Really?” Cute Maniac laughed. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You should—you should take another lap.” Steve couldn’t stop grinning, cheeks burning and heart pumping fast with exhilaration, even as the cute guy looked away for a second, before he looked back and rolled his eyes.

“Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve outright laughed at that, shaking his head a little before he gestured to the dog tags that had slipped from underneath the guy’s sweater. “What unit were you in?”

He saw the minute stiffening of Cute Maniac’s posture before he relaxed again, and felt momentarily bad for asking, but before he could take it back, Cute Maniac replied, “58th Pararescue. But now I’m working down at the V.A.” Before Steve could do more than nod, Cute Maniac held out his hand, wiggling his fingers insistently until Steve grasped it in his and pulled him to his feet.

“Sam Wilson,” Cute Maniac—Sam, a voice in Steve’s head that sounded suspiciously like Bucky insisted—offered, smiling when Steve floundered a little.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve finally said, grinning shyly. This was usually the point where people either freaked out and started treating him like… well, like Captain America. Steve hadn’t hoped someone wouldn’t this badly in quite a while.

“I kinda put that together,” Sam grinned, fingers lingering on Steve’s for a second longer than strictly appropriate, and Steve’s stomach swooped. “Must’ve freaked you out,” Sam continued, and Steve’s stomach sank, because he knew what those next words were going to be before Sam even said them out loud. “Coming home after the whole defrosting thing. “

Steve heaved a sigh and shrugged. “Took some getting used to.”

He swallowed thickly against the disappointment that curdled in his stomach and shot Sam a small, insincere smile. “It’s good to meet you, Sam.” He turned away before Sam could say anything that would make Steve’s stomach ache harder than it already did, becauseof course, the one time he decided to take a chance, the guy turned out like everyone else.

“It’s your bed, right?”

Steve stopped, turning around with no small sense of bewilderment as he looked at Sam. “What’s that?” he said cautiously, eyeing the other man nervously. He wasn’t sure if Sam was being dense, or if he was blatantly trying to come onto Steve, but it made him feel off-balance, and Steve hated feeling off-balance.

“Your bed,” Sam repeated, raising both eyebrows. “It’s too soft. When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground, use rocks as pillows.” Steve turned towards Sam fully, now intrigued and a little relieved, hoping he might’ve misjudged. “Now I’m home,” Sam continued, “lying in my bed, and it’s like…”

He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

“Like lying on a marshmallow,” Steve finally finished for him. “Feels like I’m gonna sink right through to the floor.”

Sam smiled a little and nodded.

It was a cute smile too, damn him.

“How long?” he asked, eyeing Sam carefully. He figured he could get away with asking something similar to Sam’s earlier question, and it wasn’t that he doubted that the other man had served, but…

It just felt different knowing.

“Two tours,” Sam answered curtly, although he didn’t appear all that put out by the question.

Steve swallowed and nodded tightly. Though Sam hadn’t specified, from what Steve understood, two tours could mean anywhere from a year to eight years total, and Steve couldn’t imagine being out there for that long, even with a break in the middle, without losing his mind. It’d baffled him during the war too, seeing European soldiers of various countries that had been fighting for literal years without stopping, refusing to give up.

He’d both admired them and felt incredibly sorry for them.

“You must miss the way things were,” Sam finally said, cautiously, as though Steve would explode if the past was mentioned. If this had been three years ago, Steve might’ve. He would’ve put on a brave face, but the reminder of the life that had been torn from him would’ve sent him spiraling and heading for the hills to lick his wounds in private, and he was mature enough—now—to know that.

As it stood, Steve had been in intense therapy since his breakdown four years ago, and he’d learned to deal with his grief in far more healthy ways.

“It’s not so bad here,” Steve shrugged. “Food’s so much better. I need to eat a ton, because—” he gestured towards his body sheepishly and blushed when Sam smirked. “Back then, getting enough calories was horrible. We boiled everything, and the stuff that did have what I needed was barely edible at all.” He grinned and added, “Internet’s great too. Super helpful. Becca showed me how to use it back when I first woke up. Definitely read that a lot, trying to catch up.”

Sam nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Becca’s the roommate, right? Your guy’s grandniece or something, right? Freaked out every gossip rag from here to L.A. when you two moved here, to D.C., together. Big scandal.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “I remember. Ridiculous. Becca’s one of my best friends. Currently dating one of my other best friends.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, because much as he loved Thor and Becca, he really didn’t like to think too much about it. He’d walked in on them one time too many to still be casual about it.

“Yeah,” Sam smirked. “I remember seeing that revelation around too.”

Steve winced a little.

Everyone remembered that particular Fourth of July. Tony still felt bad about it.

“So,” Sam said, smiling lightly, “You doing anything fun today?”

Steve saw it for the change of subject that it was and grasped at it eagerly—maybe a little too eagerly. “Hopefully you,” he blurted, blanching when his brain caught up with his mouth, wincing at Sam’s slightly stunned expression. “I mean—that’s not—I wasn’t trying to—”

He gave up on his spluttered explanation when Sam burst into laughter, hiding his face—cheeks burning with an increasingly embarrassed blush—in his hands. He didn’t look up until Sam reached out and put his hand on Steve’s arm, gently pushing it down so Steve would be forced to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam grinned, winking when Steve dared to look directly at him again. “I mean, you should definitely buy me a drink first, but it’s good to know I wasn’t imagining that you were flirting.” He looked momentarily confused and then asked, “I wasn’t, right?”

“No,” Steve admitted breathlessly, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the idea that he’d actually managed to ask someone out—sort of—and that said someone had actually returned his interest.

What the fuck.

Stuff like this didn’t happen to Steve—he was the hopeless single friend.

Willingly.

Sam smiled—a real, bright smile that made Steve’s stomach do another funky flop—and bit his lower lip. “Well then. You gonna ask for my number, Rogers?”

“Right!” Steve blurted, fumbling to get his phone from his pocket without accidentally tossing it across the damned park. Sam took it from him with an indulgent smile, and Steve was pretty sure his face was stuck somewhere between bewilderment and soppy admiration, and he wasn’t sure…

Well, he wasn’t sure what to do now.

“There,” Sam handed his phone back and raised an eyebrow. “You better call me, Rogers. I ain’t one for getting stood up, even by a superhero.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “I will, definitely, I just—” His phone buzzed in his hand, and he frowned when he recognized Nat’s S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued number. Nat only used that number to call him when they were being called in for a mission.

“Duty calls,” he said ruefully, wiggling his phone at Sam. “I’m sorry. Thanks for the run though.” He grinned and winked, “If that’s what you wanna call running.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Sam exclaimed indignantly, although there was no real heat to his words.

“That’s how it is.”

“O-okay,” Sam chuckled. “You better call me when you get back.”

Steve nodded dumbly, not turning away until he heard the familiar engine roar of Nat’s favorite Corvette—because of course she’d tracked his phone instead of waiting for his reply, damn those spies—grinning sheepishly at Sam’s raised eyebrow. “Can’t run everywhere.”

“No, you can’t,” Sam agreed, smirking when Steve awkwardly tried to fit himself into the small seat—he swore that was at least half of the reason Nat always picked him up in this thing.

“Hey fellas,” Nat grinned, baring all her teeth with a predatory gleam in her eye as she looked at Sam.

“No,” Steve said firmly, before she could do or say anything that would make Sam realize Steve was a goddamned disaster and he should run while he still had the chance. He frowned at her, and when that didn’t have much of a visible effect, he pouted.

Her expression softened, and Steve barely managed to keep from grinning.

Worked like a charm. Every damned time.

“I’ll call you,” he told Sam, offering him a quick smile, before he turned back to Nat, putting thoughts of Sam and the conversation and the potential date in his future out of his mind, focusing entirely on the folder Nat had tossed onto his lap and resolutely ignoring her attempts to pick apart what little she’d seen of his interaction with Sam.  

“What do we have?”

————————

EXCLUSIVE: CAPTAIN AMERICA MOVING IN WITH DEAD BEST FRIEND’S GRAND-NIECE?

Captain America, also known as Steve Rogers, and Rebecca Barnes—granddaughter to Rogers’ late best friend’s little sister—aremoving in together, but they are most definitely not in a relationship, despite an absurd tabloid report.

Gossip Cop can exclusively correct the story and report that it’s completely false.

According to OK!USA, our favorite supersoldier is moving out of the Avengers Tower to follow Barnes to Washington D.C., where they’re “on the hunt for a love pad”. An alleged insider tells the magazine that Thor and Barnes, who were recently accidentally ‘outed’ by Tony Stark, have split up because of the “deep, intense feelings” between the Captain and the youngest Barnes.

“They’re both so attracted to one another,” says a supposed source, who further contends that the other Avengers and the Barnes family “aren’t surprised Cap is following Becca to D.C. and that they’re looking for a home together.”

The outlet’s premise is flat-out ridiculous.

Just last Sunday, Thor joined Barnes and Rogers for dinner at Rebecca Barnes Sr.’s home.

The idea that Rebecca Jr. has dumped him for Captain Rogers is ludicrous. Additionally, the tabloid’s article is based on claims from an anonymous and untraceable “source,” but Gossip Cop reached out to Rogers’ spokesperson, who tells us on the record that it’s untrue. Despite what the magazine’s so-called “insider” claims, a rep qualified to speak on the Captain’s behalf assures us he and Barnes aren’t a couple, and the relocation is funded and requested by S.H.I.E.L.D., where both Captain Rogers and Agent Barnes are employed.

[…]gossip media is constantly trying to create new milestones in the relationship between Captain Rogers and the females in his life, despite their relationship being friendly and professional. […] Last week, we busted another bogus report alleging the Black Widow might be pregnant with Rogers’ baby.

Earlier this week, Gossip Cop also shot down a phony article claiming that the Avengers were split between Barnes and the Black Widow, picking sides in a vicious fight for Rogers’ affection.[…]

This latest article involving the supposed lovers house-hunting together is yet more fiction.

—A. Shuster, Gossip Cop, « Captain America moving to D.C. with Rebecca Barnes?», August 2012

————————

Indian Ocean

11:08 PM (UCT+6.30)

Steve

He listened intently as Rumlow briefed them, eyeing the specs intently. Natasha stood beside him, brow equally furrowed in concentration, while Becca fiddled with her gloves, alternating between looking at Rumlow and the screen. Normally, Steve would try to scold her into paying attention, but by the time he and Nat had gotten to H.Q., Becca had already been debriefed and had several plausible plans ready for Steve to review once he’d been briefed on the jet.

He’d learned to value her insights on cases like these, because there was a reason she had made it to the rank of Captain in the Army at twenty-two, and he knew how hard it was for her to stand still.

“Any demands?” he inquired when Rumlow finished identifying the target and outlining the situation.

There hadn’t been when they’d left D.C., but that had been mere minutes after contact with the Lemurian Star had been lost—two and a half hours ago.

“Billion and a half,” Rumlow nodded curtly, facing Steve directly, preparing for the questions he likely knew were coming. They’d worked together quite a few times over the past few years, and Rumlow had learned to anticipate what info Steve needed to effectively plan a successful mission in minutes.

“Why so steep?”

Demands were all good and well in hostage situations, but no agency deploying simple satellites would be able to afford quite that much money on such short notice.

Rumlow looked surprised, for a moment, before admitting, “Because it’s S.H.I.E.L.D.’s.”

Steve barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, quietly cursing Nick Fury in the back of his mind, and glanced towards Nat. “So it’s not off-course.” That’d been one of Becca’s theories; an attempt to explain what the ship would be doing this far out of international waters; why they’d been vulnerable to pirates in the first place.

“It’s trespassing,” Becca agreed, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning.

Rumlow looked like he wanted to say something—probably something derogatory that would make Steve want to punch him regardless of his professional competence—but Nat stepped in before he could. “I’m sure they have a good reason,” she offered, smiling winningly at Steve.

Steve did roll his eyes this time. “I’m getting real’ tired of being Fury’s janitor.”

He could’ve been having lunch, at home, right now. He could’ve asked Sam out for breakfast, could’ve tried to figure out if he could try dating without wanting to throw up at the mere thought of it.

Why did Fury always want him to clean up his own damned messes?

He turned back to Rumlow and gestured to go on. “How many pirates?”

“Twenty-five,” Rumlow replied immediately, pulling up several profiles of well-known international fugitives. “Top mercs, led by this guy.” He pulled up and enlarged a picture of a built man with a buzz cut and a dead-eyed expression Steve had seen in too many men in the service before.

“Georges Batroc,” Rumlow continued, “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions.” He looked Steve dead in the eye and frowned. “He���s got a rep for maximum casualties. It’s why they wanted to get rid of him in the first place.”

Steve nodded curtly. He wasn’t sure what a man like that would want with a S.H.I.E.L.D. vessel, but he was sure it couldn’t be anything good. “Hostages?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rumlow faltered, and Steve frowned, because that couldn’t be a surprise question—they’d been sent specifically to rescue said hostages. “Uh...” Rumlow stuttered. “Mostly techs. One officer.” He nodded towards Steve. “Jasper Sitwell. They’re in the galley.”

Steve knew of Sitwell.

He wasn’t terribly high up the chain of command, and certainly didn’t have security clearance as high as Steve and Natasha, but he wasn’t just another grunt worker either. From what Steve knew, he was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s top mission handlers.

He dealt with junior S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that went on lesser undercover missions—had dealt with Becca’s undercover mission too, until Nat had unceremoniously usurped him. Steve had no clue what he’d be doing on a satellite launch platform.

“What the hell is Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” he mused, more to himself than to either Nat or Becca, before he shook his head and pushed the issue from his mind. Honestly, it didn’t matter what Sitwell was doing on the ship, it just mattered that Steve needed to get him and the techs off of it.

Safely.

“Alright,” he said briskly, glancing to his core team briefly. “I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you kill the engines and wait for instruction. Rumlow, you sweep the aft and find the hostages, direct S.T.R.I.K.E. as you need them. Just get them to the life-pods, and get them out.” He glanced towards Becca and grinned. “Barnes, help Rumlow get into the galley and then cover my six.”

Becca grinned back and cheekily saluted him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

He followed Becca and Nat to the hold, taking the communicator Nat held out with a grin. “Secure channel seven,” he said into the communicator when he’d attached it to his wrist.

“Seven secure,” Nat replied, sidling up beside him with a smirk that predicted little good things for him. Usually conversations that started with Nat smirking at him like that ended with dreadfully boring dates with lovely dark-haired women that bore suspicious resemblance to both Bucky and Peggy.

“So,” Nat drawled. “Who was that positively gorgeous specimen you were talking to when I picked you up?” She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Were you flirting, Steve?”

Becca popped up from behind one of the S.T.R.I.K.E. agents, her expression bordering on gleeful, and Steve barely repressed the urge to groan. He’d hoped to keep Sam to himself a little longer, at least until he had decided how he felt about the whole thing.

He should’ve known he would never be able to keep it under wraps with these two in his life.

That not mean that he wasn’t going to try, though.

“I’m not talking about this now,” he said firmly, shooting a glare at Becca when she had the gall to pout at him. Thankfully, the pilot’s voice interrupted the two women before they could pester him more, warning him of the drop zone coming up.

He ran his hand through his hair one more time before he pulled the helmet on, moving towards the loading bay as he did.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Becca piped on from behind him, snatching him by one of the straps on his suit and pulling him back with surprising ease—to everyone but Steve, who’d hoped she would let him get away with it this time. “Put on a fucking parachute, Rogers,” she bit out, shoving aforementioned parachute in his hands.

“Come on, Becs,” he wheedled. “I need to get in stealthily. The ‘chute ain’t covert. It’ll slow me down.”

Becca didn’t seem particularly impressed by his reasoning. “I’m not letting you jump out of a goddamn plane without a parachute, you moron.”

“You let Thor do it all the time,” Steve pointed out, smiling winningly, sneakily pushing the parachute into a hapless S.T.R.I.K.E. agent’s hands, stepping in front of the man to make sure Becca wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing.

Becca threw her hands up in exasperation and shoved at his shoulder, even as Steve moved back to the loading bay. “Thor can fly, Steve, he doesn’t need a parachute.”

Steve grinned at her over his shoulder, and winked at her. “Neither do I.”

He jumped.

————————

Lemurian Star, Indian Ocean

11:14 PM (UCT+6.30)

Steve

“Hostages en route to extraction,” Rumlow’s voice alerted Steve. “Barnes is on her way to you. Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.”

He didn’t have eyes on Batroc anymore, and the entire ship had fallen suspiciously silent following his attempt to smash Batroc’s skull in with his shield. Of course, they did have standing orders to subdue the man, not kill him, but Steve had seen an opportunity and he’d taken it.

He’d rather be scolded for taking out a terrorist than risk the man getting out again.

Steve cursed under his breath before he replied, voice hushed, “Affirmative. Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.” There was no reply, and worry coiled in the pit of his stomach. He stopped, distracted, and lifted his arm to speak directly into the comm unit.

“Natasha?”

He didn’t see the attack coming.

He didn’t have time to do anything other than parry the volley of blows that came at him, faster and harder than anyone he’d fought in recent history. He was bowled over by the sheer viciousness of the attack, and before he knew it, his attacker had knocked him on his back, giving him no time to recover.

All Steve could see when he straightened up was the boot flying right at him, and he barely managed to move just enough so said boot landed on the floor instead of on parts of Steve’s anatomy he’d really rather keep intact—especially with the possibility of a date in the near future still in the back of his mind.

Batroc—because of course it was Batroc, Steve hadn’t expected anyone else—froze for a heartbeat, as did Steve. The stillness of the moment was over as soon as it had begun, and Steve didn’t spare much thought to technique when Batroc attacked again in a violent flurry of movement, punching and kicking so fast Steve couldn’t do anything but block, at first.

It only took a few moments before he spotted a pattern in Batroc’s attacks though, and then, instead of concerning, the fight became fun.

Batroc was a good fighter, and while he was certainly no match for Steve, he was far more of a challenge than anyone but Thor had been able to provide since he’d gotten the serum. Even Schmidt, for all his bluster of being the perfect man, had had shockingly little fighting technique and had mostly relied on brute strength alone.

Batroc, on the other hand… Batroc fought like it was an art, and Steve loved it.

Steve did not, however, have time to relish in the fight. Batroc was getting cocky, likely spurred on by Steve’s insistence of blocking and not punching—because he did have orders to bring the man in alive, and if Steve would punch him with full strength, he’d probably punch right through his skull.

It was too easy, really, to shove the man back with the shield, tossing him several feet.

It didn’t slow Batroc down though, and Steve was grudgingly impressed. The man had to be highly trained to be able to shake off a hit like that, and even when he attacked again, and Steve punched back, with his fists and the shield, Batroc got back up.

Steve was a little impressed.

“Je croyais tu étais plus qu’un bouclier,” Batroc sneered when he’d gotten back on his feet, and that… the implication grated, even though Steve knew, he knew Batroc was goading him, he knew Batroc knew he couldn’t beat Steve… But it stung nonetheless.

Before he knew what he was doing, he holstered his shield, keeping his eyes on Batroc as he undid the chin-strap on his helmet. “On va voir,” he said evenly, and he was itching for this fight, itching for a reason to beat this guy into the ground, regardless of how well he fought—

He and Batroc both flinched and spun around when a loud gunshot rang out across the deck, and before either of them could react further, Becca appeared, shooting Batroc twice, without hesitation, with the stun gun they had designed specifically to take hostiles in alive.

The man dropped like a sack of flour, and Steve was left staring between Becca—who looked positively furious—and the third man there, laying face-down in a pool of his own blood, a gun lying slightly beyond his outstretched fingertips.

“On va voir?” Becca hissed, stepping over Batroc’s prone body with an expression so infuriated Steve was almost afraid she’d set him on fire with just that look. He’d seen her angry before, but… shit, he’d messed up. “On ne vois rien! What the actual fuck, Rogers?!”

“Okay,” he said slowly, raising his hands in surrender, because Becca was still holding her stun gun, and she was not lowering it. “In my defense…”

“In your defense?” Becca shouted, stomping forward, shoving him in the shoulder hard. “There was no in your defense! You put away your main defensive weapon! You took off your helmet on an active mission with hostiles still in play! Jesus Christ, Steve, you knowbetter!”

Steve opened his mouth, but Becca waved her gun around angrily and he snapped it shut again, because he might be a supersoldier and if she shot him, he’d survive, but it’d still hurt like hell, and he wouldn’t put it past her to shoot him just to teach him a lesson about how close to death his body could take him.

“He had a gun on you,” she hissed. “He was waiting to take the shot, damn it! He would’ve blown your fucking brains out, Steve, and it’s not like you have any to spare!”

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed indignantly, glaring at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Try that again when you didn’t put away your main weapon in front of a hostile!” Becca shouted, poking her finger so close to his face, Steve was worried she’d boop him on the nose and make him laugh, because he knew laughing at her now would definitely make her shoot him.

“Okay, look,” Steve tried, backing away a little, because he was no fool, and staying within arm’s reach of an angry Barnes was never a good idea. “My entire body is basically a weapon. I mean—”

“Well, this is awkward,” Natasha interrupted.

Becca and Steve spun around to find her sitting cross-legged on Batroc’s back, securing his wrists with heavy handcuffs that could probably hold even Steve. Steve’s cheeks flamed, because Natasha was smirking in a way that meant she had heard all of the conversation that Steve would have rather kept between him and Becca.

Of course, he’d rather have not had the conversation at all, but he wasn’t that lucky.

“Where were you?” he bit out angrily, desperately grasping at the only thing he could to change the subject, glaring at Nat when she just raised her eyebrow. “Rumlow needed you with the hostages.”

“He’s fine,” she waved a hand dismissively. “I…” she paused and her eyes darted between him and Becca, who was still steely-eyed and angry, but at least not shouting anymore. “Fury gave me a secondary mission,” she admitted, holding up a hand to stave off the angry tirade that was already itching to burst from Steve’s lips. “I can’t talk about it here. Later, Steven.”

“Fine,” Steve bit out. “Fine.” He pointed to Natasha menacingly. “But you’re coming back to our place later to explain.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

————————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances: 

(1) 

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Cee! You have been accepted for the role of Zeke Hawker (FC: Jack Dylan Grazer). This was another really tough decision, and we truly thank the both of you for your applications! We love how deeply you got into his mind, his likes and dislikes, his snarkiness balanced with a touch of insecurity and a dash of healthy egotism. He’ll be a delight to have running around town! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Cee Age: 20 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT+10 Activity estimation: I’m currently studying full-time again, so I should be able to post IC every 2-3 days easily, depending on my muse. Even if I’m not writing, I’m usually able to be around to plot almost every day! When I know I’ll be pressed for time due to deadlines or exams, I’ll request a semi- or full hiatus. Triggers: N/A

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Ezekiel “Zeke” Hawker Age (DD/MM/YYY): 13 (07/01/1983); Capricorn sun, Gemini moon, Libra rising Gender: Cis male Pronouns: He/him Sexuality: N/A Occupation: Student Connection to Victim: Brian was one of them. He has no idea how such a quiet kid managed to weave his way so easily into an already tight-knit group, but it happened. Zeke wonders if it was because of him being in the same baseball team introduced Brian to the group. Whatever it was, he’s never found himself doubting whether Brian could be part of the friendship – and he doubts plenty of things. Alibi: Zeke was watching the other baseball games. With his game finished (and most of it spent sulking on the bench with Brian reluctantly lending an ear), he’d chosen to stay a while longer that afternoon. Sometime between the matches, he’d made a quick trip down to the Piggly Wiggly with ten dollars he’d mooched off Abel for candy and chips with a few other kids on his team who were still around. At around four-thirty he picked up his bag, shrugged on a crewneck and walked home from the pitch. A teammate’s parent offered him a ride home, and he gratefully took it. He was dropped off at the front doorstep and went straight inside. Faceclaim: Jack Dylan Grazer

WRITING SAMPLE

“Nope. That’s not it.”

Dust motes float languidly around him in the muted daylight that spills from the attic window, stagnant in mid-July air. A hand retreats from the cardboard box he’d finished rifling through, a messy stack of books and trinkets set back in their rightful place. To find a hint, anything about his parents, shouldn’t have been this hard to find. This was a trope of every movie; people kept unwanted things in the attic, not the basement. Too predictable. He thinks so, anyway and although this was real life and not some Spielberg blockbuster, it was close enough. Zeke had forgotten about the graze from another failed skating attempt that spans the base of his knee when he kneels down to store it away. A slight wince crinkling his face, he pushes it back to the spot on the boarding that’s a stark brown against the thin grey that covers the floor. Like nobody would know he’s ever been there. He dusts his hands on his shorts, but not before he’s rubbed his face and splutters from a cobweb across his nose. “Gross.”

Over cereal that morning, he’d asked again. Over a sugary bowl of whole milk-laden Cheerios, Abel consumed by today’s newspaper and soft radio masking the quiet that settled over the house, he wondered if there was anything else to be told about his mother or father. And just as his grandfather always did, it was a stock-standard answer of no, not really, there’s nothing remarkable to tell. As if he hadn’t missed out on the ordinary things already. And besides, isn’t it much more worthwhile to focus on the present?

“Focus on the present, my ass,” Zeke mutters to himself now, free arm outstretched to tear away a frayed edge of packing tape run across cardboard. In heavy marker, the next box is labelled 1971. A good decade before he’d come into existence, kicking and screaming. “Huh.” With limited options for company, it’d become nothing short of normal to talk to himself. Small comments of wonderment as he came across a particularly impressive fact in a book. 

Backhanded remarks as he resigned himself to watching The Bold and the Beautiful when nothing exciting was on television. Once, while they watched television after school, Josh had said he bugged out for doing that, laughter mingling with the taunt. Whatever. You try living in a giant house with just your grandpa, Zeke retorted. The Sunday visits Josh came along for were far different from living there week in, week out. Sundays were warm and bright. Cheerful, even. Once that rolled past, it fell back into the same monotony of school and baseball and homework, all tied together neatly with a rigid lights-out by nine sharp. To focus on the present was a joke.

A soft tug pulls the tape away easily. It’s left crumpled up beside him, gathered together in his fist before being dropped to the floor. He’s hasty to uncover the contents. Just like the last one, it’s packed meticulously. Like Tetris. The cover of the top photo album is worn in one spot, thumbed over by countless hands. He’s careful when he lifts it out and sets it on his lap, even more gentle with the plastic covers that run over the already faded photos.

So he sets to work. He’s learned to search out that face, the same way he skim-reads the chapter of a book assigned for reading he’s put off until the night before. Even if the only reference he relies on is faded, the photograph tattered and dog-eared in one corner from being stuffed in his jacket pocket to show his friends, the features are clear as day when Zeke pores over the images one by one. The disappointment’s sour in his mouth when he’s gone through it with no luck. The photos are beautiful, filled with smiling memories and yet, all devoid of his parents.

Beads of sweat across his upper lip, cotton shirt glued to the spot between his shoulder blades, another hour passes of searching through the storage boxes. He gives up eventually, when he’s graced with that same unpleasant taste. Mingled with that, though, is something else. An idea that perhaps there’re better places to look than right under the nose.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Zeke equates knowledge with adulthood. Maturity. Being a grown-up with a monotonous office job, fibre cereal and the drone of a television. Or used to. Brian’s disappearance has confirmed his suspicions – that it isn’t quite the case. The cops figured out who snuffed Phillip Silverman all those years ago pretty quickly, right? Or so some of them claimed. So, why’s it so hard to put a finger on who kidnapped Brian? The manhunts have gone on drearily, ended with no real certainty. Nobody’s a step closer to finding his friend. All grown-ups seem to do about it is croon in gossip over a diner booth table or spare an infinitesimal glance at the Crime Stoppers posters plastered on each utility pole downtown. He’s become distrusting, and quick. Whatever valiant spearheading people take up of the manhunt and the newfangled mystery of Brian appears self-serving. That there’s a few brownie points to score for next Sunday’s service, or a nice spot on the front page to print their mug across for stumbling across the next clue. If grown-ups cared, what reason is there to be so hush-hush when he asks questions? Zeke doesn’t want to think only the worst will happen. But if the adults are getting nowhere, he’s brought it up in hushed conversation with his friends that maybe, maybe, there’s a better chance of them getting to the bottom of it.

It’s well-known that Zeke isn’t great at making friends. Scratch that – he’s awful at it. Was his father, with all those vices, like that as well? It isn’t that kids don’t want to be friends with him because of his admittedly unconventional family. Whose only parent is their grandpa? But that’s never been so strange to set him apart far enough to be the black sheep. Jealousy has kept him from making friends. Until he reconciles with the fact, he supposes there’ll always be a quiet anger simmering at the back of his throat. It’s an uncomfortable sensation that makes its home in his chest, knowing that he won’t have a mom or dad to take (somewhat reluctant) photos of him on a birthday, on the first day of school or at a family gathering with a scowl plastered to his face. Those are things he’ll never be able to replicate, with Abel occupied by work and the belief that rules in place of his company are enough to raise a kid. He’s long become familiar with that yucky twinge when kids mention their families. He’s never had the luxury of saying My mom took me to go watch Independence Day in Lansing last weekend, or Hey, my dad came to see me score in little league, isn’t that cool! No, it’s been quiet admissions of frustration to Andrew when Abel has skirted a question on his father with the same lacklustre, manufactured answer journalists get when they shove a microphone in his face for the millionth time. To have answers is an itch he constantly finds himself having to scratch.

Apparently, his name means “God will strengthen”. Impressive. Except he despises going to church, enough to almost call himself an atheist, though he’s uttered a prayer or two in the last week when the worry really gets to him. Please, God, find Brian. Keep him safe, bring him home. It’s a nice way to swallow the nerves down, but not much else. He’s more interested in picking up a science book rather than the Bible, adamant about his excuses to weasel his way out of Sunday service but the effort is often pipped every time. Elaborate stories are quickly becoming his new forte. They’re just not quite good enough to get him out of that scratchy button-down and slacks too short at the ankle from his last growth spurt. At least he doesn’t have to go to those prayer groups Abel attends. While he can chalk it down to tradition and old habits, he’s never quite understood why Abel’s put much of his time and energy into it. He’s funny about it, too. Not funny as in it’s an innocent hobby, but funnyfunny. Funny where, if Zeke holds him up with a badly-timed question right as he’s about to step out the door or makes an offhand (and most definitely deliberate) remark that he might as well live at the church with the group, his face becomes stony. While he has quietened down about it, as far as his grandfather’s concerned, he’s determined to ask around elsewhere.

Sometimes, Zeke entertains the idea of asking if he can live at Ken and Aisha’s house. It makes sense. Their car often rumbles in the driveway to pick him up for school or to take him to a county fair. It feels much more familial. He worries that he’s a burden on Abel, that he’ll never properly connect with him as a son should. He’s come home with a busted lip and bruised pride from smart-mouthing bullies enough times to make anyone sigh with exasperation rather than concern. It’s not as if resisting the status quo at home, rules laid down like the law, helps his case either. His uncle and aunt’s home is welcoming. Smaller and cosier and warmer, always filled with chatter or laughter or radio. Abel’s house is huge. Silent, most of the time. When bad weather’s in, the windows rattle and wind shrieks around the corners, making it feel far emptier than it already is, which is no easy feat. To busy himself, Zeke got into the habit of reading and video games. Once he’d mowed his way through the fiction in the reading room, he quickly became hooked on non-fiction. There’s a haphazard stack of books on his bedside table at all times, switched out every week or so. He didn’t mind playing Actua Soccer for a while, until it reminded him of just how terrible he is at sport. Zeke likes to pick up new hobbies. It’s given him a wealth of new knowledge; new facts to ring off. Or when he needs to prove a point. He even tried to skate for a while. Eventually, he got sick of the bruises and grazed knees and Andrew’s bemused remarks. From stargazing to photography to origami, it’s a good way to pass the time.

When it comes to music, he’s pretentious. Zeke considers himself an indie aficionado – he’ll go for an underground station rather than the commercial pop garbage that plays on the radio. Most of his mixtapes are painstakingly curated, filled to the brim with Pavement, Mazzy Star, The Cure, Soul Coughing. Weird stuff. It’s made him consider picking up music, save for the fact that he can’t carry a tune to save himself. Tone deaf, that’s it. He won’t dare admit that he doesn’t understand half of the songs, lacking the life experience to even do so, but he’ll certainly make it seem like he does.

He has no idea why he keeps on with baseball. Most of his time at practice and games is spent cracking jokes and trading interests with Brian on the bench, ignoring the tinny sound of a bat and the shuffle of feet, the cheers from onlookers. Coach says he’d be good at the game, only if he paid attention. Deep down, Zeke has an urge to master everything. It distracts him easily. New things pop up to command his attention and in the blink of an eye, he’s moved on. He’s not scatterbrained, though. Just selective. He knows where to allocate his time. Ideally, he wants to be a jack of all trades, well-rounded and good at school and sports and small talk, though he hasn’t gotten any of them down pat. Too much of a smartass for teachers to really like him, too clumsy with his motor skills that he drops the ball half the time, enough lip and a tendency to curse that makes most kids reel, his friends included. But he’s trying to be better. It’s a quiet effort; one that won’t happen overnight. He cares about his friends deeply, even if it is masked by a habitual urge to squabble and brazen ideas that elicit eye rolls rather than impressed gasps. One day, though, he’ll come up with something good. Something spectacular.

[lumiolivier]

Chapter Twenty-Two:  Fireball Burns Back

Word Count:  4941

Chapter No. 22/?

Notes:  I know, I know.  It’s been quite sometime since I last posted a chapter.  Things have been rather hectic lately.  I was getting ready to go on vacation.  I went on vacation.  I had to recover from severe depression because of said vacation.  Not because of it being over, but because it happened.  Long story.  You’re not here for that.  How about that chapter, though?  Let’s do that.

Chapter Twenty-One:  Long Live the Red Hats

Mother…fucker…

 Can I die now?  Is this what dying feels like?  The adrenaline from last night has definitely worn off.  I’m dead inside and more hungover than I’d like to be.  I woke up to the empty bottle of Fireball in my bed and my pajama bottoms missing.  That’s fantastic.  And I still had to go to Julian’s.  I’m sure he had aspirin.  Would he mind if I took the whole bottle?

 I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into my bathroom to heave my guts out.  Isn’t this wonderful?  First day of unemployment and I’m already a cliché.  And if that wasn’t bad enough, when my phone went off, the usually delightful chime of my ringtone turned into a million nuclear bombs going off in my head.  My day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

 “Hello?” I groaned into the speaker.

 “Holy shit, baby,” Julian spoke softly, “Are you ok?”

 “I found that bottle of Fireball last night,” I told him, “Needless to say, I don’t have any left.”

 “Mimi,” he worried, “That bottle was damn near full.  We didn’t drink much out of it last week.  You finished it?”

 “What can I say?” I gagged on round two, “I needed to sleep.  I’ll be over soon.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Positive,” I swallowed the stomach bile trying to make its way out of my mouth, “I’m fine.  But you wouldn’t happen to have aspirin at your house, would you?”

 “A whole bottle,” Julian cringed, “Are you sure you still…”

 “Yes,” I cut him off, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 “Alright,” he let me go, “I love you.”

 “I love you, too,” I hung up and threw up some more.  Note to self: Nearly a whole bottle of Fireball? Not a good idea.  Do not do again.  I grabbed some clothes out of my closet, not quite sure who I grabbed, and headed for Julian’s.  Not getting dressed quite yet.  Once Julian leaves for work, I had all intentions of crashing in his bed. Putting my pajama bottoms wouldn’t be a half bad idea.  The neighborhood doesn’t need to see the little kitties on my underpants.

 I pulled into his driveway, pushed his front door open, threw myself into his chest.  Like a reflex, Julian wrapped his arms around me, “Oh, Mimi…How trashed were you last night?”

 “I don’t know,” I murmured into his t-shirt, “I drank the rest of the Fireball and went to bed. Now, I feel like absolute shit.”

 “Alright,” he put me on his couch, “I’m going to get the aspirin bottle.  Stay here.”

 “Where am I going to go?” I whined, “It’s not like I’m going to work.  Or anywhere else for that matter.  My parents still think I’m employed.  Is it cool if I hang out here while you’re gone?”

 “Fine with me,” Julian allowed, throwing me a white bottle, “In fact, I insist upon it.  Now, take a couple of those.”

 “Don’t have to tell me twice,” I downed two blue tablets without any water.  If I drank something right now, it wouldn’t stay down, “I’ve never been this bad.”

 “Never?” I had a feeling he didn’t believe me, “Come on.  You can’t tell me you didn’t get shitfaced on your twenty-first birthday.”

 “I didn’t,” I clarified, “I had maybe one drink and went to Chili’s.”

 “That’s so disappointing,” he pitied.

 “Hey,” I shrugged, “My best friend was only sixteen and my parents didn’t like me drinking.  That’s why all of my booze is hidden.”

 “Do you keep it in one of those classy globes that double as a minibar?” Julian asked, going back into the bathroom.

 “Yes, Julian,” I groaned sarcastically, “Because somewhere in my room, where you’ve been a few times now, you’ve seen a globe.  No, dumbass. It’s in my desk drawer.”

 “Hemingway style,” he approved, “I like it.  Although, I think Hemingway would have it in a super classy globe.”

 “I’m going to punch you,” I gagged a little more, running over to the kitchen sink.

 “I really wish I could stay and take care of you, Mimi,” Julian sympathized, “But my Netflix and my Crunchyroll premium account doesn’t pay for itself.  Are you going to be ok by yourself?”

 “If you come back and I’m pantsless,” I warned, “That’s not an open invitation to try something.”

 “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, coming out as Russell, “Not in your condition.  The last thing I want is for us to be in the throes of passion and you turning around to throw up.  I’ll come straight home after work, ok?  You need anything, call me.”

 “I will,” I wrapped my arms around his waist, never wanting to let go, “If Griffin comes in today, don’t be a dick about me.  I know you want to, but don’t.  He’s not worth it.”

 “One of us has to be bringing home some money,” Julian teased, “And I’ll be damned if he ruins my viewing of Orange is the New Black when it comes back.”

 “Nerd,” I cuddled into him.

 He kissed the top of my head and grabbed his keys off the counter, “Go back to sleep, ok?  I love you.”

 “I love you, too.”

 Julian went off to work while I curled up in a little ball in his bed.  Still warm.  Still felt like him.  Even had an indent where he was laying.  Perfect. My first real day off in what felt like an eternity and I’m spending it with a wicked hangover.  Give yourself a pat on the back, Mimi.  Or how about laying in Julian’s bed and going back to sleep? I liked that idea better.

 A little while later, the blaring ringtone on my phone decided to wake me up.  I rolled over and caught a glimpse of the clock.  Who the hell would be calling me at noon?  I grabbed my phone off Julian’s nightstand, “Hello?”

 “Where are you?” Veronica squeaked on the other end, “I just talked to Julian and he said you quit.”

 “Veronica,” I scolded, “Could you keep it down?  I’m hungover and sleep deprived.  I love you, sweetie, but your voice is like nails down a chalkboard right now.”

 “Sorry,” she apologized, “Now, what happened?”

 “I quit my job,” I shrugged, “Not much to tell.”

 “But you’ve been working at the café since forever,” Veronica pointed out, “Why?”

 “Because I needed to move on and Griffin’s an asshole,” I explained, “I couldn’t stay and a change of scenery would be nice.”

 “No,” her voice broke a little, “You’re not leaving Lenexa, are you?”

 “No,” I settled her, “I’m not leaving until May.  Then, I’m taking a trip.”

 “If you’re not at the café then,” Veronica wondered, “Where are you?”

“Julian’s,” I might regret that later, “He let me crash here, so my parents won’t find out about me losing my job.”

 “He’s so sweet,” she awed, “Are you guys together yet?”

 “What did I tell you?” I shut her down, “Once I know something, I’ll tell you.”

 “Julian already told me.”

 “No, he didn’t,” I knew this game, “Or you would’ve led with that.  Besides, there’s nothing to tell.”

 “Dammit!” she snapped, setting off an earthquake in the back of my brain.

 “Veronica!” I growled at her, “Jesus, why don’t you fucking shoot me?  It’d be quicker.”

 “I’m sorry,” she settled, “I don’t mean to.”

 “I know, honey,” I came down, too, “It’s just…I’m tired.  I’m exhausted.  I’m sick. Cut me some slack.”

 “I’ll let you go back to sleep,” Veronica let it go, “And I won’t ask about you and Julian anymore.”

 “Thank you,” I sighed out, “You tried pumping him for information, too, didn’t you?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Go back to class, Roni,” I pulled out the mom voice, “You know where I’ll be.”

 “I don’t know where Julian lives,” she chimed, “But I’ll check on you later!”

 Click.

 I was too awake to go back to sleep.  Don’t get me wrong.  I still felt like inside out ass, but at least I had more sleep.  As much as I didn’t want to get out of Julian’s bed, I got up and got in the shower.  And I’ve never enjoyed a shower more in my life.  Except maybe for a camping trip I was forced on one summer, but I digress. Now, I could see who I grabbed this morning.  Come on, hungover me.  Tell me you made a smart decision.

 Alphonse Elric.  I did make a smart decision.  All I had for Al was a short, loose, gray dress to simulate his armor.  It won’t push on my stomach.  I don’t have to wear pants.  Hungover me deserved a medal.  I got out of the shower and searched Julian’s kitchen for something to eat.  Hopefully, I’m past the puking phase.  Even during my worse hangover, I stopped throwing up after a good nap.

 To no surprise, Julian had packs on packs of ramen.  My god, Julian.  Were you preparing for the apocalypse?  My beloved boyfriend had more ramen than what one has the right to in a lifetime.  It’s like he’s hoarding.  Every size, every flavor.  Flavors I had never even heard of!  Julian, baby, you need to lay off your Amazon account.

 I made a package of creamy chicken, put a shake of sriracha in it, and turned on his Crunchyroll. What to watch, what to watch. Maybe I should go old school and watch Dragonball Z.  It has been quite some time since I watched Dragonball Z.  Nah.  I’ll watch something else.  Wasn’t feeling too nostalgic.  Until I found something on the list that did get me all nostalgic.

 I might have started my road to otakuhood on Pokémon and Sailor Moon, but a part of me had a soft spot for one in particular.  I had gone from fourth grade until my freshman year of high school without living my otaku life.  Five years of no anime and a fully functional social life.  But then, for old time’s sake, I decided to turn on Netflix and in my recommendations was an anime called Fruits Basket.

 This girl Tohru ended up living in a tent in the woods after her mom died.  She didn’t want to be a burden on her father’s father.  Little did she know, the property she had staked her tent on belonged to the most popular boy in her school.  Yuki Sohma…My first anime crush.  I had to admit it.  That is until I saw his cousin Shigure.  From that moment on, I was a Shigure girl.  However, the Sohma family had a secret.  If any member is hugged by someone of the opposite sex or is under a great amount of stress, they turn into an animal of the Chinese zodiac. Shigure was a dog.  Yuki was a rat.  And I loved them all.

 Fruits Basket was the anime to reintroduce me to the beautiful world I missed so much.  It made me go back and rewatch Sailor Moon. It made me rewatch the original Pokémon series.  From Fruits Basket, I jumped right into Fullmetal Alchemist, the original series. And from then on, I never had a regular social life again.  The only reason I met Veronica was because of a school project.  I kept my love for anime and manga and video games under wraps and it’s been that way ever since.  Once the theme started playing, I felt a bubble of emotions rising deep within my heart and tears started streaming down my face.

 I was so happy when you smile.

Your smile breaks through the clouds of gray.

Far from the sunny days that lie here and sleep.

Waiting with patience for the spring.

The flowers will bloom renewed again.

Knowing there’s more beyond the pain of today…

 Such a beautiful song. My heart never failed to melt whenever I heard it.  I grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch in Julian’s living room.  Life was good.  I forgot about the hell that happened last night and the hell I went through this morning and I couldn’t be more content.  For a brief moment, the world was ok again.

 I’d be lying if I said I didn’t put a dent in Julian’s couch today.  I nearly watched the entire series and felt the judgment.  I’m sick, ok?  Fuck off.  I had a day to myself to do whatever I damn well please and did just that.  I binged one of my favorite anime on my boyfriend’s couch.  I kept ramen down and sucked down half a case of Julian’s bottled water, which I probably owe him…But all in all, I had a good day!  Minus the part where I wasn’t feeling too hot, but still!

 “Honey…” Speak of the devil, “I’m home.  Do you have pants on?”

 “No,” I shook my head, “But I showered today.”

 “Good for you, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of my head, “How you feeling?”

 “So much better,” I pulled him down to the couch, “I missed you.”

 “I missed you, too,” Julian pulled me against his chest, “What have you been up to all day?”

 “Nothing,” I smiled, “And loved it.  I forgot how nice solitude can be.”

 “Well then,” he chimed, “I brought you a present.”

 “You didn’t have to do that,” I brushed him off, “What’d you bring me?”

 “I don’t suppose you want another bottle of Fireball,” Julian assumed, “At least I hope not.”

 “Not at the current juncture,” I promised, “Or in the near future.  Seriously, though, what’d you get me?”

 “I took a detour on the way home from work,” he admitted, “You hadn’t called or texted, so I figured you were either sleeping or good enough for me to take a trip to Kansas City and back.”

 “I thought you were getting a little late,” I glanced up at the clock.  Yikes.  I lost track of time.

 “I made a stop at the mall,” Julian went on, “at that store you told me about with the shit selection. But the closest we can get to any otaku-y goodness without going online.  I saw something I knew you’d squeal over and I knew you didn’t have it.”

 Julian grabbed a little bag from the other side of the couch and put it in my lap.  I’m sure he outdid himself.  He always did.  I felt around a little.  Soft, squishy.  Plushie. Definitely a plushie of some sort. By the feeling of it, an animal. That’d be so weird if he got me a member of the Sohma family.  I pulled my present out and, as predicted, squealed my heart out, “Julian!”

 “You’re welcome.”

 I’VE BEEN EYEING UP LITTLE SEBASTIAN IN THE PINK COW SUIT FOR MONTHS!  I never went up to Kansas City by myself enough to get him, though! Where there was the Sebastian plushie in the pink cow suit, there was also a Ciel plushie in a blue cow suit. And I needed them in my life, but just having Sebastian for now was good enough for me, “Julian…This was so sweet. Thank you.”

 “I couldn’t decide whether to get Sebastian or Ciel,” he thought.

 “They had Ciel, too?” I gasped.

 “Yeah.”

 “You did good, though,” I approved, “He’s precious.  I love you.”

 “I love you, too,” Julian grabbed over the arm of the couch again, putting another bag in my lap, “That’s why I got Ciel, too.”

 “Julian!” I squealed again, pulling little cow Ciel out, “You didn’t have to do this.”

 “I wanted to,” he fought, “You weren’t feeling good and I wanted to make you feel better.  I figured why not use your OTP to my advantage?”

 “You know,” I hid a smile, “It’s cute that you think Sebaciel is my OTP.”

 “They’re not?” Julian gave me a look, “Bullshit.  Then again, you have seven different OTPs, I’m sure.”

 “I have one OTP per franchise,” I clarified, “Unless we’re talking Fullmetal.  Don’t even get me started.”

 “Who’s your overall OTP?” he asked, “If you had to pick one.”

 “How to give an otaku an anxiety attack,” I teased, “That’s like telling me to pick my favorite child!”

 “But…?”

 “But,” I cuddled into his ribs, “I do have one.  My number one OTP…”

 “Which is…?”

 “Isn’t it obvious?” I kissed his cheek, “Us.”

“Oh,” Julian awed, “That was cheesy…”

 “I know.”

 “But,” he held me a little closer, “I loved it.  And you. And I really can’t wait until May.”

 “Me either,” I beamed with visions of cosplayers and panels dancing in my head, “So, how did you manage today?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “It’s Wednesday,” I pointed out, “Book club came in.”

 “Oh yeah,” he remembered with a hint of an eye roll, “They asked about Sebastian.  Broke their hearts to hear what happened.”

 “What happened?” I asked.

 “He skipped town,” Julian spun the tale, “Apparently, he found out he had a kid in England somewhere.”

 “Does he now?” I giggled, “Was that on the spot?”

 “Yes, it was,” he took a little pride in his work, “Not bad, right?”

 “I’d give that fic a read,” I critiqued, “Maybe the first chapter or two.  After that, I’d lose interest.  The plot would be too farfetched and nothing adds up.  Three stars.”

 “Three whole stars?” Julian gasped overdramatically, “I’m so honored.  That’s coming from someone with your internet star power.  I’m sure you get the senpai comments, too.”

 “I do,” I nodded, “Senpai, Mom…Mommy.”

 “Oh, you poor baby,” he cradled me, “Speaking of comments, have you looked at the ones for the Death Note set yet?”

 “I figured we could read them together,” I insisted, “You got your phone?”

 “I do,” Julian pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his website, “Let’s see. BrilliantRoseCosplay sends one. Misa Amane is the top of the list for the most annoying anime character ever, but she makes for some really hot cosplayers.  Welcome back, Julian!  Keep your Misa coming.”

 “That’s sweet,” I awed, “Read another one.”

 “Ok,” he scrolled, “NicoNicoChan45 says this.  A question. Is your Misa the same as your Ciel? They both look like they have similar body shapes, but the face looks so different.”

 “Do we say something?” I asked.

 “Of course we do,” Julian pulled up a text box, “Without them, there is no us.  If they’re going to take the time out to talk to us, the least we can do is talk to them.”

 “You sound like me,” I chuckled a bit to myself, “I’m the same way with my comments, too.”

 “What do we say?”

 “Tell them,” I thought it over, “Yes.  Your Ciel and Misa are one in the same.  And they’ll be seeing a lot more of her.”

 “Alright,” Julian typed out his response, “Who are we doing this weekend?”

 “I’d love to do all of Team Mustang,” I picked, “But we don’t have enough people.  We already have Mustang and Hawkeye.  We need Breda, Falman, Havoc, Armstrong, Hughes, and Fuery. And Black Hayate, if we can find a dog that looks enough like him.”

 “You’d want to add in Hughes, too?” he got a little choked up.

 “Of course,” I followed his lead, “No matter what, Hughes will always be a part of Team Mustang.”

 “You know what?” Julian smiled, “I think I can make a few phone calls and make Team Mustang happen.”

 “Are you serious?” I squeaked.

 “Completely,” he nodded, “Hold on.  I’ll be right back.”

 “Ok,” I let him up and reassumed my position on the couch.  I couldn’t believe it.  To think I used to only cosplay in my bedroom.  Now, I’m online and I’m about to participate in a group cosplay!  Hell, I did a couple last weekend!  I was a part of a well-known cosplayers website. We were partners!  Even better, we were us.

 Things really were going to get better.  I’m well overdue for a win.  I had enough points in my karma bank, I think.  Dealing with Griffin and bitchy soccer moms with screaming children, a dipshit stoner and unsupportive parents, I’m sure someone up there had something for me. Something good had to be coming.  

 “So, good news!” Julian came back, “We have Breda and Havoc.  Our Fuery is going to have to call me back.  I can’t get a hold of our Hughes or our Falman.  Unfortunately, our Armstrong is on his honeymoon right now. But it looks like things are going our way.”

 “You know,” I laid my head on his shoulder, “I have an idea for a Royai crack fic that involves all of Team Mustang.”

 “Oh?” he chimed, “Care to share with the class?”

 “Basically,” I explained, “It’s a day at the office.  Breda, Falman, Fuery, and Havoc have a pool going, wondering when the colonel’s going to wise up and confess how nuts he is for Hawkeye.  They all do little things around the office, trying to win the pool while sabotaging the others.  The winner gets to be best man at their wedding.”

 “Nicely done,” Julian applauded, “When did you come up with that?”

 “Just now,” I smirked, “You’re not the only one that can come up with ideas on the spot.”

 “That’s not fair,” he pouted, “You do this regularly.  Speaking of things of the fan fiction nature, did you get any done today?”

 “Fuck off,” I retaliated, “I was sick all day.”

 “You had all this time to yourself,” Julian got judgmental, “What did you do all day?”

 “Watched anime,” I mumbled.

 “I’m sorry,” he nudged me, “I didn’t hear you.  What was that?”

 “I binged Fruits Basket!” I yelled at him, “I forgot how good of an anime that was!  And I enjoyed every goddamn minute of it!  I almost finished before you got home!”

 “Then, why aren’t we finishing it?” he yelled back.

 “Wait,” I stopped, “What?”

 “Yeah,” Julian wrapped his arms around me, “What episode are you on?”

 “The last four,” I cuddled into him, “Where did that come from?”

 “I like fucking with you,” he smiled, “It’s fun.  You get all angry and puffy and it’s adorable.  You’re like a Chihuahua with a size complex.”

 “Julian,” I growled, “You’re so lucky I love you.”

 “Or what?” he kissed my cheek, “You wouldn’t do anything.”

 “I could delete our pictures from your phone.”

 “They’re already posted.”

 “Dammit,” I thought a little harder.  And a lot dirtier, “I could set Miku on fire.”

 “You wouldn’t set Miku-chan on fire,” Julian figured, “You know better.”

 “Do I?” I glared, “She gets the honor and privilege of cuddling my senpai every night.  I’d go all yandere on her ass.”

 All of a sudden, he got nervous, “You wouldn’t.”

 “I would,” I stood my ground.

 “Then, what’s to stop me from doing the same with Sebastian?” he fought back.

 “He can be replaced,” I cringed internally.  I love you, Sebastian.  I don’t want anything to happen to you.

 “What about Rin?” Julian pointed out, “Or Mustang?  I don’t think you have any other dirty body pillowcases.”

 “That you know of,” I stuck my tongue out at him, “I have one that’s been on back order for the past few months that’s supposed to be coming in soon.”

 “Who is it?” he wondered.

 “No,” I cut him off, “I’m not telling you.”

 “It’s Noiz.”

 “Nope.” It might be Noiz…

 Julian thought some more, “Gray Fullbuster?”

 “I’m not telling you, Julian.”

 “No,” he mulled it over, “You’d be more of a Gajeel Redfox kind of girl.  Can’t blame you.  I’ve thought about what his massive arms would be like to lay in.  Don’t get me wrong.  Gray would be nice, too, but you’re small.  Gajeel is huge in comparison.  You’d feel like a baby with him.”

 “Still not telling you.” Damn, he had me pegged.  I was a sucker for a good pairing with a major size differentiation.

 “Am I even in the right series?” Julian asked, “Is it someone from Fairy Tail?”

 “Nope.” It’s someone from Dramatical Murder and you already guessed him.  I turned on the next episode of Fruits Basket, “Now, I love you, but shut the fuck up.”

 “What’s this one?” he settled down.

 “Ritsu Sohma,” I beamed. I loved Ritsu.  Ritsu was a spazz and when Tohru first met Ritsu, she thought Ritsu seemed like such a nice girl…only to find out that Ritsu was a crossdresser.  I loved him, though.  An absolute mess on legs.  His curse was the monkey.  Accurate.

 And so, we began our evening together, curled up on the couch, watching the anime that got me back into this mess.  I could’ve been more conventionally normal if I wouldn’t have turned on Fruits Basket. But honestly, I’m perfectly content with where my otaku life has gotten me.  I’d be a part of a group cosplay by the weekend.  I had my equally awesome otaku boyfriend.  I couldn’t complain.

 Gladys was right.  To hell with what other people thing.  I was in a good place.  In fact, I was in a great place!  Sure, I don’t have a job, but that doesn’t mean I won’t find another. One where I’m appreciated and my boss isn’t a sexist pig.  Sure, I’m socially withdrawn, but that doesn’t mean I’m lonely.  I had Julian and Veronica and Paul, to a certain extent. Because of my budding social life, I sent my mother a text, telling her I was crashing with Julian tonight. We’re working on a big project together.

 Which wasn’t completely a lie.  We were. I had a crack fic to write and maybe we’ll make it come to life together.  I for one, thought that was a beautiful thing.  I felt my phone buzz on my thigh with a quick text back from my mother.

 Pulling an all-nighter?

 I rolled my eyes at her ignorance.

 Yes.  I’ll be home after work tomorrow.

 “What was that all about?” Julian wondered as I threw my phone on his coffee table.

 “Giving my mother some peace of mind,” I told him, getting comfortable, “It is cool if I crash here tonight, right?”

 “As long as you don’t try setting Miku on fire,” he stipulated.

 “I won’t.”

 “Then it’s fine,” he allowed, “About time, if you ask me.”

 “You’ve stayed with me twice,” I reminded him, “I still have one time on you.”

 “God, I can’t wait for Saturday night,” Julian looked down at me, “You have no idea.”

 “Not the first time I’m clueless on a Saturday night,” I shrugged, “And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

 “This Saturday is special, though,” he cuddled me, “It’s very special.  The one day we can’t forget.”

 “The day we proved we can’t turn back,” I sighed, “The day we have to keep moving forward.  Maybe on Saturday, I should burn the café down.”

 “That’s preemptive arson,” Julian stopped me, “I don’t want to be an accessory.”

 “I’m not burning the café down,” I promised, “I wouldn’t be that stupid.  We have con season coming up and we have to cross state lines. Can’t do that if I’m in jail.”

 “That’s my girl,” he kissed me, “Keep your thoughts of arson to yourself, salamander.”

 “You calling me a pyro?” I pouted, “Because that’s your job.”

 “What?” Julian scoffed, “You think it says Flame Alchemist on my business cards?”

 “You have business cards?” I wondered.

 “Yes, I do,” he confirmed, “When I’m doing cons and shit?  Oh, hell yeah!  I have people asking for serious commissions every now and then, so I’ll give them my business card and we’ll keep in touch.”

 “Does it say Flame Alchemist on it, though?”

 “Maybe…”

 “You’re such a nerd,” I laid my head in his ribs.

 “I know,” Julian played with my hair, “Don’t judge me.”

 “No judgment from me,” I promised.

 “I’m a whole lot worse than my otakuhood, you know,” he admitted, “Sci-fi.  Fantasy.  My favorite book as a kid was the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings series.”

 “You are a nerd,” I teased, “In all sense of the word.”

 “Right down to the superhero underpants,” he assured.

 “You’re not wearing superhero underpants,” I groaned into his side.

 “You want to put money on that?” Julian pulled up the top of his boxers.  That may or may not have Captain America on them, “Told you.”

 “That’s nice, sweetie,” I patted his shoulder, drifting off a little.

 “Are you getting tired on me, baby?” he asked, running his fingers down my back.

 “A little,” I suppressed a yawn, “Why?”

 “If you’re getting tired,” Julian brushed my hair out of my face, “We’ll go to bed.  My doorways are pretty narrow, so if I’d have to carry you to bed again, I’d end up hitting your head on the wall.”

 “I’ve been fighting a headache all day,” I whined, “If I could not hit my head, that’d be great.”

 “Come,” he pulled me onto my feet, “Let’s go to bed.”

 “Ok,” I was ready to clock out.  I didn’t want to.  I wanted to stay up with Julian a little while longer, but I guess I couldn’t complain. We were about to sleep together and he was kind enough to take Miku off his bed for me.

 “Hey, Mimi,” Julian peeled his shirt off, “Do you want this before I throw it in the washer?”

 “Are you really offering me your t-shirt?” I started feeling heat in my face.

 “Yeah,” he shrugged, “Why not?”

 “I’ll take it,” I threw Julian’s t-shirt on and dropped my dress around my legs, crawling in bed with him. His body felt so warm under mine. And right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

 “Good night, baby,” Julian kissed my cheek.

 “Good night.”