#he cooks her pies and rubs her shoulders when she comes home

[ladyantiheroine]

Hughie Campbell is miserable all the time because he’s not living his true purpose, which is being a stay-at-home tradhusband to Annie January.

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Bonus Chapter!]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.4K

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

"Right on time." You chuckled and put your headphones on the stand. Tonight, you were working from home because Mingi was coming to visit. It had been a while since 'Crazy Form' promotions started. Haneul was at a friend's place, having a little sleepover.

Of course, when Jongho heard, he nearly popped a blood vessel and sent a full PI team after this 'friend' but if you were fine with it, he should be too. You trust her friend's mom.

Plus, Haneul was so excited, you couldn't say no. Those two girls were like peas in a pod, which you absolutely adored.

"Mings, I- Oh." You stopped when you saw all 8 members at the entrance way to your home studio.

"Hi~!" Wooyoung broke through first, walking to you and throwing his arms around you. He hugged you to him, kissing your cheek. You laughed and hugged him back.

"I told you not to do that anymore." Mingi growled, tugging Wooyoung away by the back of his hoodie.

"This is a... pleasant surprise...?" You looked up at Mingi quizically. You didn't know that he was having the rest come with him, he seemed to have planned the evening as a date. He wrapped his arm around you with a sigh. He, too, looked unhappy with the fact that he didn't come alone.

"Trust me, baby. I'm just as surprised as you..." He mumbled, leaning down to give you a greeting kiss.

"Hey, hey. That's enough. Come to your big brother." Hongjoong smiled and hooked his arm around your shoulders to lead you out of the studio.

"Baby!" Mingi called out in frustration.

He planned this as a date, for the two of you to spend some time together. He had been busy with the comeback and you had been busy with Big Hit that you barely got to see each other anymore.

But when San announced that Mingi was going over to yours, suddenly everyone wanted to tag along.

"I don't know if I have enough food. Had I known earlier that you guys would be coming, I would have cooked more." You rubbed the back of your neck.

"Don't worry about it. We brought food." Seonghwa pinched your cheek.

"Okay, you guys eat the takeout. (y/n) and I will eat what she cooked, AS INTENDED. And give her back, she's mine." Mingi hissed with a frown as he pulled you to him, standing behind you and putting his arms around you possesively.

"Oh, by the way, we brought the new albums for you. All the versions. Signed and everything." Yeosang smiled softly, holding the paper bag out to you.

"Aww, thank you, Yeosangie." You melted, receiving the bag and looking at the contents.

"You should unbox it! Like all the ATINYs do to check their photocard pulls. And you can see which member's digipack you got." San suggested. You threw your head back in laughter.

"It doesn't matter who I get, I'll be happy to receive any of your photocards." You chuckled.

"Don't you want your bias?" Jongho asked.

"You guys removed the seal to sign the albums, wouldn't you know which photocards I have already?" You raised an eyebrow. Wooyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and sat you down.

"No, we promised each other not to look since we wanted you to be the first to see. So just open it." He giggled excitedly. You sighed but nodded, taking the albums out of the paper bag and stacked them on the coffee table. There were the 3 versions of the album, 1 digipack version and 1 platform version.

Mingi remained quiet this whole time, glaring at the boys who surrounded you and basically shoved him aside.

"Okay. Opening the first one." You took the pink 'A' album and flipped through the photobook first. The boys all looked very nice, this was your favourite photo concept.

"The photocards are in here." Yunho handed you the envelope that was tucked into the slot.

"Thank you." You opened the envelope. You got San as the big card and Seonghwa and Yeosang as the two photocards.

You didn't react at first, continuing to open the rest of the album envelopes, as least for 'D' and 'Z'. You got a pretty good spread of the members photocards, except for one person.

"Hang on a minute?!" Mingi shoved everyone aside and looked through all your pulls.

"This is outrageous!" Mingi huffed and stood up, marching to your bedroom. You blinked in surprise at his outburst. But you knew he would be upset, you got every other member but you didn't get any Mingi photocards at all.

"Hyung! I thought I told you to get the ones with ONLY Mingi photocards inside." Mingi was on the phone when you went to the room to check on him.

"I did, Mingi ah."

"Then tell me why there are NO Mingi photocards inside any of the albums?" Mingi fumed.

"I don't know about that. I handed them to Hongjoong for the signing."

Mingi grumbled and hung up. He knew this was conspiracy against him. When he turned around, you were standing there with your arms crossed and your eyebrows raised.

"You told your manager to get Mingi only albums to give me? That's cheating, Mings." You chided.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore because those guys probably changed it to NO Mingi content. They're against me, I swear." Mingi sulked with a pout. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him to comfort him. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to give him a kiss.

"Having the real you beats any photocard out there, okay?" You stroked his head with a soft smile. Mingi hugged your waist, burying his face into your shoulder.

"Come, let's finish this and we can have dinner." You held his hand and led him out.

"I hope you guys are happy. Now (y/n) doesn't have any photocard of her bias." Mingi glared at all 7 members, who smiled innocently.

"Wait, we never even asked (y/n) who her Ateez bias is." Yunho pointed out. You sighed and sat back in your spot to open the digipack to see which member you got.

"What do you mean? Of course, her bias is me." Mingi argued.

"Well, would you look at that?" You commented with a small laugh. The others gathered around, not knowing who you actually got for the digipack.

"See? Another disappoint-"

"I can't believe I actually got my bias." You let out a laugh of disbelief. There was silence in the room before everyone, except Mingi, burst out laughing, falling onto the ground in a pile. Mingi was so shocked, his jaw was slacked.

"I would be disappointed I'm not (y/n)'s bias but I'm sorry, this is just too funny." Wooyoung laughed out loud.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, WAIT! Baby, I'm not your bias?!" Mingi yelled.

"Mings, you're my boyfriend." You stated.

"YEAH, SO?! ALL THE MORE, I SHOULD BE YOUR BIAS!" Mingi was outraged. It was like someone had just told him his entire life was a lie. You sighed.

"Relax, stop yelling. You're making it sound like I cheated on you or something." You crossed your arms with a frown.

"You might as well have." He mumbled. You rolled your eyes, Mingi could be so dramatic when he was jealous, you and Yunho would know this the best, you were both used to it.

"It's an honour to be your bias, (y/n)." The male stood up with a kind smile and held a hand out to you.

"You're so adorable, San." You chuckled but still shook his hand. There was nothing against Mingi and you weren't doing this to mess with him. No, you didn't have a crush on San either. After working with him, you just admired him and the way he works. He's curious, open minded and easy to work with.

Plus, San was absolutely adorable during the drunk Wanteez episode, you were melting and 'aww'ing over him.

"It's okay, Mingi ah. I'm not her bias either." Seonghwa patted the sulking male's shoulder.

"That doesn't help, Hwa hyung. You're basically her mom, she can't have you as a bias or that will really be biased." Mingi glared, making Seonghwa hit the back of his neck.

"It's not a big deal, Mingi. I'm still dating you, I still love you." You said to him.

"Hmph!" Mingi turned his nose up at you.

"Big baby." You mumbled and went to get the food while the others were absolutely loving this. Hongjoong and Jongho helped you bring out the plates and cutlery for everyone.

"Do you still want this?" You asked Mingi, holding out a bowl of spicy mixed noodles and beef that you initially made for him and you.

"Go give it to your bias since you love him so much." Mingi said.

"I'll eat it!" Yunho raised his hand. Mingi slapped his best friend's arm, looking at him in betrayal. Yunho shrugged, he wouldn't say no to food, especially food cooked by you. As you all sat around the coffee table, Mingi didn't sit beside you, he sat at the end.

"Hey! Don't steal my food." Yunho slapped Mingi's hand when he tried to steal some from his bowl.

"It's my food. She cooked it for me." Mingi growled.

"But you didn't want it so she gave it to me." Yunho held the bowl up and away from Mingi's reach. You sighed, ignoring the bickering at the end of the table.

"Look, all 7 of you, I like all of you equally, okay? Mingi is the person I'm dating so he's the one I like most." You said.

"But he's still not your bias." Yeosang reminded. You facepalmed, just digging into your food.

"Good job, Sannie." Wooyoung patted his best friend on the shoulder while San blinked in confusion, not really aware why his best friend was suddenly complimenting him.

"Ignore him, San. In fact, I'm ignoring all of you." You said.

"I didn't even do anything? And fans say I'm the jealous one." Hongjoong rolled his eyes, casually taking your bowl to eat a mouthful of your noodles that you made. It was true, you were expecting Hongjoong to have the most explosive reaction, after Mingi's, of course.

"Actually, yeah. I'm surpried you let this go so easily, you're not fuming or growing mushrooms in the corner now." Jongho laughed.

"What? I'm not an anime character. Plus, who says I'm letting this go? You do know who is the other one besides Mingi who has access to her Big Hit studio right?" Hongjoong laughed.

"Imagine walking in and just seeing Kim Hongjoong's face plastered on your walls." Seonghwa said and Hongjoong punched his arm.

"I'm changing my password." You declared.

"Wait, tell me more. Why is Sannie your bias?" Wooyoung asked, perching his head on his hand.

"Leave it, Woo." You growled through your clenched teeth. You knew he was just doing it to rile Mingi up and you knew you would be dealing with sulky Mingi later.

Thankfully, the rest of the meal went by normally without anymore arguing and bickering, with you sharing about the projects you're working on and what the rest of the comeback schedule entailed.

"Alright, I'm going to get started on the dishes, can you guys help me gather up the trash and clean up the area here?" You asked, standing up. The boys nodded and saluted while you brought the dishes to the kitchen. You began to wash the dishes.

"Let me help you with that. I'll wash and you can dry to put things away." San came over with a sweet smile.

"That'll be great. Thanks, San ah." You dried your hands and grabbed the dish cloth to begin wiping the dishes to put them away. San began to wash the remaining dishes.

"Actually, why am I your bias? If you don't mind me asking." San suddenly asked.

"Is it really that important....?" You grumbled.

"No, not really... You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just always surprised when people tell me they're my fan." San let out a shy laugh.

"Why?" You raised an eyebrow.

"For a long time, people were saying that I 'overdo' things like choreography or that I'm purposely trying to outshine my members on stage. I don't think I'm that good in vocals, I don't produce or write lyrics well... So I'm always curious as to why people would want to be my fan." San confessed.

"Wait, San. No. Please, don't speak of yourself in such a way. You know whatever those people say, it's nonsense right? They're just jealous of your talent." You said.

"Right..."

"Look, you're kind, you're hardworking, you have amazing stage presence. You all do. You're all such hardworkers, wherever you go." You sighed.

"I guess when I first came to KQ and worked with all of you, your attitude in the studio made the biggest impact on me." You told him.

"But I didn't know anything. I was basically clueless about the recording studio." San denied.

"Yes, you don't know much about producing and songwriting but you were curious and open minded. You put in so much effort and didn't let your lack of producing knowledge hinder you." You said.

"Thank you, (y/n)ie." San smiled shyly, his ears turning red.

"You're welcome. No more speaking or thinking of yourself in such a way, alright? I'm sure the ATINY would not like that you see yourself as such. You're great just the way you are." You lectured. San laughed and nodded his head.

"Plus, you were adorable during the drunk Wanteez, when you were going to cry because Wooyoung yelled at you and when you blamed him for pushing you off the stool." You added.

"Ah! I told you to never talk about that! That was so embarrassing." San protested.

"Or when Jongho asked you if you were a staff because you were asking who wanted milk." You continued to tease him.

"(y/n), stop~" He whined.

"Having fun in here?" Mingi came over, squinting his judgemental eyes at you. You didn't reply, rolling your eyes, knowing he was still in a tantrum mood.

"That's my job." Mingi said, taking the dish washing job over from San, who held his hands up defensively. He went out to help the others clean up the living room. You hummed 'Youth' to yourself as you put the plates away. Mingi was pleased you were humming his (and Yunho) song but didn't give it away.

"Oh before we go, (y/n). You should film the Crazy Form challenge with us." Seonghwa suggested.

"You're actually crazy." You snorted.

"Come on. We promise, we won't post it anywhere. It'll just be for us to see only. So your identity will be protected." Wooyoung said, shaking your arm.

"I told you I can't dance. This is basically me giving you guys free blackmail material." You raised an eyebrow.

"We can do the easy version, it's just hand movements. And our dance leader here, can teach you." Yeosang pushed Yunho in front.

"You guys just ignored my comment about the blackmail..." You pointed out.

"Watch me. It's easy." Yunho said as Jongho played the music from his phone. He demonstrated first before doing the counts with you, guiding you through each step.

"This is hard, the music is too fast for me. This is why I never come for any of the dance workshops you invite me for." You complained. But the boys were all patient in teaching and helping you remember the steps.

"It's okay. Try again. 9024 kick that drum." The boys sand out the lyrics for you while you tried it with Yunho.

"That was great! Now let's video it." San clapped for you. You promised doing ONE video with them as a group, that's it. You set the phone up against the counter to film it.

"Do you solo one with Mingi? Or San?" Wooyoung nudged you. You elbowed him.

"I said one video, not exceptions." You shook your head.

"What about your parents?" Yunho grinned, pushing Seonghwa and Hongjoong to the front. Seonghwa and Hongjoong gave Yunho flat looks. You sighed but nodded.

"Fine. They're the only exception." You said. San filmed for you and the oldest two. It was cute, ending off with them hugging you.

"That's so cute." Yeosang complimented, watching the filming from over San's shoulder. Your cheeks heated up at that. After fooling around a while more, the boys left to finally give you and Mingi some alone time. Mingi went to shower while you got ready for bed, changing into sleepwear and doing your skincare.

"Mings, come here. You're so far away." You patted your chest where he always liked to lay down on. But he was at the edge of the bed, looking at his phone.

"Mings, I'm dating you. Not San. It doesn't matter that he's my bias. I love you the most." You said. He didn't say anything to that.

"Fine. If you're gonna sulk, you can sleep in Haneul's room." You turned around to turn off the lights.

But the moment you turned back around, Mingi glued himself to you. He had his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face into your chest.

"You're mine." He mumbled.

"I know I am, pabo." You said, hand coming up to toy with the hair on the back of his head.

"I never said I wasn't. In fact, I've been telling you that I'm yours the whole night." You reminded. Even in the dark, you could see Mingi lift his head to look at you. You leaned down to pressed your lips against his. His hand moved from your waist to hold your cheek.

"San will never be able to do this. Only me." He said when you both pulled away. You blinked, a little dazed from the kiss. But his words brought you back to earth.

"You're such a big baby." You mocked.

"I have the right to be jealous over my girlfriend liking another guy." He muttered.

"Okay. You have permission to get me all the Mingi photocards for the other albums, alright? Mingi only. I'll reject them if they aren't Mingi." You sighed.

"Really?! Promise?!" Mingi asked, grabbing his phone and turning on the torch light to show that he was holding his pinky up.

"Yeah, yeah." You laced pinkies with him.

"Can we sleep now? I want the cuddles I was promised for tonight." You asked.

"Of course, my baby." He put his phone back and immediately slotted himself back into your hold. While your arms draped over his shoulders, his arms remained around your waist. He liked laying on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, it just solidified how real you were for him.

"I love you and you only, Mings. Don't forget that." You told him as you started to drift off to sleep.

"I love you too, baby. So much." He murmured, squeezing your waist just that much tighter. Mingi knew you'll always put up with him, no matter how dramatic he was.

"Tomorrow, will you film the Crazy Form challenge with me?" He suddenly asked, waking you back up.

"I don't know, we'll see..." You sighed.

"Does that mean you love Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung more? Because you made the exception for them. And you even let Yunho teach you, I can dance just as well as him, you know?"

"Mings, you were busy sulking, that's why Yunho taught it to me. And I was basically forced to learn it." You replied.

"Still... If you asked me, I would have taught you. I'm a great teacher but you wouldn't know." He scoffed.

"I- You know, what? Fine, we'll film it tomorrow." You didn't bother arguing with him. In the dark, you couldn't see the triumphant smile on Mingi's face.

You thought that was the end of it. But when you next went to your studio at Big Hit, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you turned on the lights and saw 3 life size cut out standees of Hongjoong staring back at you.

~

[A/N: I didn't personally choose who (y/n)'s Ateez bias was. I did a roulette wheel and 2 out of 3 times, the wheel landed on San so he won. But I really wanted to write this scenario.]

Series Masterlist

[mistydeyes]

Hiii this is for your COD pairing!

Appearance

- 5’7

- brown eyes

- shoulder length black curly hair

- I have 2 nose piercings and a few tattoos

- She/her

Personality / interests

- infp :)

- I am a big homebody, I love to cook, bake and read

- I’m obsessed with the ocean. I love the beach and jellyfish

- I would say I’m pretty quiet at first but once I get comfortable I literally don’t shut up

- I love to do things for people i know like giving small gifts or doing little things to make their day better

Job

- im a biochemist and I work in a research lab currently.

- I work with proteins

- I’m looking into getting my MSC

Partner type

- someone who likes to banter with me

- Will listen to my random thoughts and be chaotic with me

- Someone who will be honest and straight up with me

Tyyyyy :)))

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (a/n WE LOVE WOMEN IN STEM!! y'all working in the lab are really the backbone to everything in health)

How you met: Civilian You loved visiting the aquarium, especially ones that had the tanks that formed a tunnel where you could marvel at the sea creatures as they swam over you. Makes sense why you were sitting in the tunnel in the London Aquarium. "Gorgeous, innit?' a young man replied as he entered the tunnel. You smiled as he took a similar sitting position to marvel at the animals. "It's my favorite place here, something about it is so peaceful," you replied as you pulled your knees in to let other guests pass. "Wonder what they think?" he postulated as he stared upwards, "'time to swim over the canyon, make sure not to fall in'" he joked and you laughed at his terrible observation. "I guess, maybe it's like when you try to avoid a body of water and try not to drown," you spoke aloud and he nodded in response. After some time making conversation and telling some bad fish puns (along the lines of Q: Where do sick fish go? A: To see a sturgeon.), Kyle helped you up. "Want to come to the touch tank with me?" he asked and as you both looked into each other's eyes, you took this opportunity to take a running start as he followed you, laughing.

A peek into your relationship: You rubbed your eyes as you examined the quaternary structure of a protein you were working on. You strained as you tabbed over from the 3D model to the results from your circular dichroism spectrometry. You had a proposal due by the end of this week and needed to quantify your results into a paper. By now, the lab was empty and everyone had gone home. Even your PI left you in the cold lab to look over your results. As you tried to label your figures, your phone buzzed. "Come down to the third floor for dinner :)" Kyle texted and you smiled. You might as well take a break. You took off your coat and quickly made your way down the stairs. As you approached the table, Kyle sat there with some of your favorite takeout. "Hey you," he smiled and motioned for you to sit next to him. "Hey, Love," you replied and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "How's the lab work going?" he asked as he watched you scarf down the second meal you've had today. "Stressful," you sighed, "my PI wants the proposal by the end of this week for my new research and I have a poster presentation on Wednesday." You rubbed your temples and Kyle massaged your shoulders. "Well I'm always here to present to, I'll be sure to have questions for you," he said and you gave a soft smile in response. "Might have to take you up on that offer," you replied. That's how at 11pm, you were presenting your research to your boyfriend as he furiously wrote down notes to ask you "very important" questions.

"Kyle, asking 'How can someone be so sexy and so smart?' is not a question I'm going to be asked on Wednesday" "Just trying to prep you, my scientist!"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff

💀💀💀

You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.

After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.

After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.

You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.

You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.

You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.

"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."

"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.

"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."

"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."

"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.

"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.

"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"

"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."

"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.

💀

When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.

'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.

'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.

'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'

'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.

The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content. 

You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.

💀

You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.

You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.

‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.

Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.

You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.

You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses. 

You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.

Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”

You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.

Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.

💀

Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.

You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.

Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”

“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.

“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”

“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.

“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.

“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”

“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”

“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”

“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”

“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.

“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”

“I don’t think anyone--”

“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”

You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”

“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.” 

💀

You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.

“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”

Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.

You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.

“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.

“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.

“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.

You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.

“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”

You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.

“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”

You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.

“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.

“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”

“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.

“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”

“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.

“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”

“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”

Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.

“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.

“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.” 

[lachimolala0713]

Unforeseen | Chapter II

Summary | I have always loved my boyfriend Jimin. He is the light and love of my life. We are happy and in love for 9 years. Until one day his best friend, Taehyung, confessed his affection to me and it struck the unforeseen circumstances in our lives.

Type / Genre  | Smut, Angst, Drama and Fluff

Characters | Jimin x reader | Taehyung x reader (ft. BTS)

Author’s Note | I want to thank my co-ARMY and great friend Pied Piper for encouraging me to write my first story. To the future readers of this story, I hope you’ll enjoy this one. Thank you!

Jimin was driving a bit fast, I can see he's worried. "Love, I'm okay don't worry." I tried my best to hide my weak voice, he continued his driving and as we go the traffic light lit in red light and he stopped the car, he took a deep breath, "I know you're hiding it. I know you. I want you to get some rest at home." by the tone of he's anxious and worried. I nodded and gave him a smile, "Why don't you take a week off from work?" he asked, "What? You know I can't." I said, "It's just a week jagiya. You've been working non stop." he said and I agree with him, I am tired, exhausted and burned out from work.

He reached for my hand and held it tight. "You know how much I love my work but yeah, I'll ask Taehyung to give me a week off." I said, "Thank you." he smiled. The green light turned on and Jimin continued driving on our way home.

TAEHYUNG POV

Here I am lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking how Y/N is. I feel so guilty of what I did to her at work and I was blind for not seeing how she works non stop. I realized she never took a day off ever since she started working in my company and it suddenly worries me especially I overworked her today.

Maybe I should pay her a visit tomorrow.

I felt so light and relaxed maybe it's because of the medicine I took last night. I rolled to my side and stared at the window. It's so beautiful how the sunlight reflects on the glass door in the balcony. It felt so cozy that I just want to lie down the whole day.

Suddenly Jimin's arm slowly wrapped around my waist, I can feel his breath behind me, "How are you feeling?" his husky voice sounded so sweet, I turned around to face him, "I feel great actually." I smiled. He planted a kiss on my forehead, "Can we stay here a little longer?" he asked, he just stared at me, his eyes were full of longing, he must've missed me so much and I do too, every single day. I simply nodded and smiled to him, I felt his hold tighten around me, "I missed you jagiya." he said,

The warm water from the shower relaxed me even more. Just by closing my eyes and feeling the warm water is soothing, I feel like I'm going to fall asleep here. "Y/N..." I heard Jimin behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist, he planted sweet kisses on my shoulder and I can't help but weaken in by his touch. He slowly slide up his hand and cupped my breast, I gasped, he played my nipples with his index finger and I can't help but whimpered. "Yes, that's it. Squirm underneath my touch." he whispered to my ear, "Jimin..." I moaned, he continued playing with my nipples, he kneaded my breast slowly in a circular motion, "Fuck!" he hissed, "They're so soft jagi." he whimpered, I moaned, I felt his teeth on my shoulder, "Moan for me." he whispered and his voice sounded sweet yet seductive. His one hand slowly went down to my abdomen and to my clit. "Fuck! You're so wet Y/N." I moaned loudly, the way he touched me down there felt new, his other hand cupped my face and turned it to the side, facing him and he attacked me with a kiss.

As we kiss his other hand continued rubbing my clit in a quick pace, I kept moaning through his mouth and he took the chance to let out his tongue inside my mouth, "Suck my tongue, Y/N." he commanded and I followed. I can feel my climax already, "Ah..." I moaned, "Are you close?" he asked gently, "Yes." I breathed, "Will you squirt for me?" he asked, "Yes." I feel I'm catching my breath with all the sensation he gives me, "Good." he said. He lifted my left leg up and held it with his left arm, while his right hand continued rubbing my clit. "Jimin..." I moaned, "Fuck you moaned so good!" he said, "I think I'm close..." I breathed, he didn't respond, he just kept working down there, driving my libido insane. "Please, Jimin..." I begged, "You can take it. You're a good girl. Right, Y/N?" he kissed my cheek but this time it was slow, it was a sweet gesture.

"Jimin..." I breathed, the sensation he's giving me drives an immense pleasure to my core, "Don't hold it. I want you to scream, Y/N. Scream my name." he whispered to my ear, "Jimin! Fuck! Ah...it's so good!" I finally let it out, he definitely knows how to make me feel good. "Yes, Y/N." I felt his voice lingered through my skin, it's seductive. He fastened his fingers on my clit, "Oh!" I yelped, with his sudden motion I tilted my head and lie on his shoulder, giving him access on my neck and he took it. He sucked and bit my neck like I'm his delicious meal. "Y/N..." he moaned my name, "Shit!" he cursed, "Oh my god, Jimin!" I'm losing my balance that I placed my hand at the back of his shoulder, "Come for me, Y/N." he commanded, and just with those words I let go of myself. "Holy shit!" Jimin was surprised with my release, "Fuck Y/N that was so hot." he said, "You're so beautiful when you squirt. Fuck!" he hissed, the intensed sensation continued flowing to my core and I felf so high.

My legs weakened but Jimin hold me tight, carrying my weight in case I fell and I felt sleepy all of the sudden. He let go my leg and hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder as the warm water pour above us.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked gently, "I want to cook you some lunch." I smiled, "I missed your cooking!" he said, "I could use a helping hand as well!" I offered, his smile widened, and his eyes are also smiling like the shape of the crescent moon. I reached for his cheek and pinched it really hard, "Argh! Jagiya that hurts!" he whined, "Blame yourself for being so cute." I giggled.

Cutting onions has always been a struggle to me, whether it's white or red it always make me cry. Jimin laughed, "Hey! It's not funny." I sniffed, "It's just that you're so cute, Y/N." he laughed, "Crying over an onion." he teased, suddenly the doorbell rang, "I'll get it!" I said, I walked towards the main door and I opened it. I saw a huge bouquet of red carnation and behind it was a tall man, it was Taehyung.

"Hey, Y/N."

JIMIN POV

I continued and finished chopping the onions and I noticed Y/N was taking so long. I put down the knife and went to her, "Y/N who was at the door?" I said as I walked towards her, and I saw Taehyung holding a bouquet of red carnations, Y/N's favorite flower.

"Hey Y/N." Taehyung smiled and handed the bouquet to her, "Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady." he said, I am happy that my best friend adores Y/N but why do I felt anxious and worried all of a sudden?

"Hey, Taehyung!" I said cheerfully, "Oh Jimin, hello!" he greeted, "Thanks for coming over." I walked towards Y/N and stood behind her, "Yeah, we're just preparing some lunch." Y/N said, "Why don't you come inside, Tae?" I offered, "Oh thank you." he said and he looked at Y/N, "How are you feeling today?" he asked, "I'm good. Jimin took care of me last night." she smiled at him, I noticed Taehyung is not breaking eye contact with Y/N. The way Taehyung looked at her dearly is so - sweet.

I hope I'm wrong.

We went back to the kitchen and Y/N continued chopping the other ingredients. “Jagiya, you be careful with the knife.” I said, “Do you need help?” Taehyung asked, “It’s okay, we’re good. You just sit there and make yourself at home, Tae.” I said. “How’s your work, Jimin?” Taehyung asked, “It was great. We got many clients last week.” I said happily, “Oh really? That’s wonderful to hear.” Taehyung said. “Jimin has been working so hard, Tae. He really loves his work.” Y/N said, I blushed and smiled shyly at her compliment, “Well, gotta work hard for our future.” I smiled at Y/N and kissed her on the cheek.

Y/N started frying the rice and vegetables, I sat down on the kitchen isle with Taehyung and I looked at him he looked tired and stressed out. “Have you been resting lately?” I asked, “Not really. Been thinking nonstop about the company...and certain things.” he said, “Are you seeing someone lately?” I asked and we both laughed at my question, “No, but there is someone that I like.” he said, and suddenly my heartbeat fastened by his answer. "But I don't know if she feels the same way." he said, by the tone of his voice, he seemed sad and disappointed. I cleared my throat and thought of what question I should ask.

"Jimin, could you get me a bowl for the fried rice?" Y/N asked, and I quickly went to the cabinet to get a bowl for her. We prepared the food on the dining table as what Y/N wanted it to be laid out. "Oh wow, this looks good! This will be my first time to try your cooking Y/N!" Taehyung said excitingly, "You're gonna love it, Tae!" I said, and Y/N blushed at my compliment, "Alright boys, time to eat!" Y/N said.

As we enjoy the food, I noticed Taehyung kept on glancing at Y/N as she take spoonfuls of her food. It bothers me. I know Taehyung was worried of Y/N because of what happened to her at work last night but why is his eyes are telling something else?

Y/N cleared her throat and drank some water, "Um, Taehyung?" she asked, "Yeah?" Taehyung responded, "Is it okay for me to take a week off?" she asked nicely, and there was a pause on Taehyung's gesture, his eyes widened at Y/N's request.

On that moment, silence filled the room.

TAEHYUNG POV

I was surprised of what Y/N just asked. Take a week off? Why? That means I won't get to see her on weekdays. Does she hate my company? Does she hate how I manage things at work? Is she tired of working under my supervision? Is she planning to resign that's why she's asking for a week off? To think if she still wants to work in my company? With me?

I felt my heart beat faster and I can heart it behind my head. "Taehyung?" she called my attention, I looked at her and then to Jimin and then to her. I cleared my throat, fixed myself on my seat and took my glass of water and drank it, "May I know the reason why?" I asked gently, I don't want to scare her by giving my big boss vibe to her on a weekend especially I'm just a visitor at this place. "Um..." she's nervous, is that what she feels about me when she's requesting something for her own needs? Am I that superior to her?

She looked at Jimin in the eye as he held her hand and brushed her knuckles with his thumb to help her relax, "It's okay Y/N. Taehyung is just asking." Jimin reassured her, "Yeah, I just want to know why." I smiled at her, I want to make her feel that I am not dangerous, that I am Jimin's best friend and her friend too and that I love her too, "I just want to take some time off at work. I realized that I've been working non stop after what happened last night. I also want to spend some quality time with myself and of course with Jimin too." she said, I can see the sincerity in her eyes, the longing she wants to take a break from work. "Ah. But it's weekdays right? You won't be working, Jimin?" I can't believe I just asked that. Who am I to know how they spend their quality time together?

No one.

"Oh, it's my week off too. The clients wanted to reschedule their meetings with me so my executive assistant cleared my scheduled next week." Jimin said, "Ah." I said casually, "Okay. I think Y/N will need that to feel better too. I'm okay with it." I said. It's true I hate the feeling that I won't get to see her but I also hate the feeling that because of work she could get tremendously ill, knowing she's working under my company.

"Thank you, Taehyung." she smiled at me, I'm gonna miss that sweet smile of hers for a week. "You're welcome. You deserve it. You deserve a break." I said. "Thank you." Jimin said and I smiled at him.

Y/N is not mine to control. I'm just her boss. Jimin's best friend. Her friend.

Yes.

Just her friend.

That's it for Chapter 2. I'm starting to think that Taehyung looks like a possessive boss here. What do you think?

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to share your thoughts. I would love to read them!

[oftenderweapons]

Apple of My Pie — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 1.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.5k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

In case you need it, here is the music companion

Enjoy! ✨💜

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

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

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

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

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

“I might use a friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It smelled domestic, like your granny.

You missed your granny.

You missed home.

Your lip wobbled again.

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

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

You caught his hand and introduced yourself.

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

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

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

You teared up. “Marshmallows.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, buttercup.” He cooed.

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “Not really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then torture.

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

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

So, he had said yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was an accident. I dropped it.”

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

“What?” You asked, comically confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have lessons today?”

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

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

“Romantic as in love?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

He decided to halt his thoughts there. No more.

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

“Actually no.” He said casually.

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

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

Smash you. 

No! The thought. His mind. Out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————

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

[elephantsneedwater]

I finally wrote something about my V and River. I hadn’t really planned it just allowed it to flow. I think it’s a great set up for a deeper story. Please, let me know what you think. I would love to hear any and all feedback!!

ACT 1

———————————————————————-

I clenched the steering wheel and swallowed hard. I hadn’t been back in almost two years, had to take time for myself- especially now that my time was up and passed, and I was still alive. The morning sun reflected off my cyberware decorating my fingers. It’s been months since I’ve had to use my mantis blades, and in a way I liked that. If I held the wheel any tighter I might just break it.

I couldn’t explain it, Hellman had conveyed a very painful and depressing last six months but after my body had effectively shut down and I expected myself to never wake up, my eyes opened the next morning. The recovery didn’t last as nearly as long as the sickness, but I stayed to myself- with the help of Panam, of course.

She allowed me to stay with her and the clan while I recovered, knowing I was never going to actually stay. I had already walked away from the Nomad life once, I wasn’t going to go back to it. Not when I had so much to live for in Night City.

With a flick of a finger I rolled down the window and allowed the dessert heat to flit through my ginger hair. Long wisps of hair flew around in the wind. Tucking a piece behind my ear, turning down another dirt road, I wondered if he would like how long my hair was now.

The train tracks alerted me to how close I was to my destination and I slowed my car down turning into the lightly populated area. The same woman who sold overpriced clothing stood in the beaming sun by her rack while the rest of the small town, if it could even be called that, meandered about.

My heart was pounding and I chugged at the water bottle I left on the seat next to me. Mouth suddenly dry. I came to a stop a bit away, knowing my car wouldn’t be recognized. Shutting the engine off I surveyed the trailer. Toys of all sorts, splayed across the sandy ground. His grill was nowhere in sight and I wondered why, Summer was just starting.

Leaning my forehead against the wheel I bit my bottom lip. This was a bad idea. You stopped speaking to him. Cut him out. He kept calling and then eventually you stopped hearing the ringtone you picked out for him. Why come back now? What if he’s moved on? What if he doesn’t care?

But that was a chance I had to make. I didn’t realize how much I needed him until I had stopped thinking about him. It had hit me like a ton of bricks, my heart felt heavy, head was foggy. I had thought I was getting sick again, that my time was finally up, I was so low I even wished I could speak to Johnny.

I wanted to talk to the one person who was the reason I was dying just so he could tell me what I already knew. I was lonely. Sitting back I glanced at the time on my dash.

9:34 AM.

He’s probably be back around lunch time. Always liked to cook for the kids. Rubbing my hands over my dark jeans I wiped the nervous sweat off. Flexed my feet in my worn sneakers and grabbed for my large sweater. It was his. He had given it to me one night while I was staying over. Said it was his dad’s. I didn’t want to take it- knowing the story behind his parents- but he insisted, said: “It was his favorite. You’re my favorite. It’s only right you should have it.”

His scent was light practically gone on the fabric, I closed my eyes and leaned back allowing the warm wind to list me to sleep. I could wait a few more hours.

——————

A loud unmistakable rumbling engine jolted me awake and I snapped my head to see his truck pulling up closer to his home. The door opened and I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat.

It was now or never, V.

Get out of the car.

My eyes were glued to his large retreating back, he had on a white button down and dark brown slacks. PI business must be booming, I thought. His favorite boots were still his go to, they kicked up loose sand as he walked to the front door.

The door creaked loudly as I pulled myself out of the car. I tied the sweater around my waist, adjusted the strap of my favorite shirt and walked quickly towards him.

“River.”

The moment I spoke he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, a dark brown eye widened in surprise at the sight of me and his lips parted, he was speechless.

“Nice calves.” I chuckled crossing my arms at him.

Mentally I knew that was a horrible way to say hello after so long, but it was honestly the first thing I could think of.

River just stared at me, fists clenched. His muscles strained against his shirt as if he was fighting himself to not approach me. I could see the hesitation and excitement in his face.

“Valerie?” His voice was soothing and deep, I wanted him to say my name again but as I opened my mouth the front door opened and a woman with black curly hair and an expensive dress came walking down the rickety steps, her heels unbothered by the tightly packed ground.

“River, Joss is ready.” She called to him and I noticed his shoulders tense.

Blinking for the first time since we met eyes he looked over his shoulder at the woman his voice oddly soft as he spoke.

“I’ll be right there, Lila.”

A deep dread filled my stomach and my body grew hot in a panic. Who was this? Was this why he was so dressed up?

My eyes flickered back and forth between the two and I watched Lila close the distance between them, her hand coming up to press against his back.

River’s gaze never left me and in them I could see his conflict.

“Oh, is this a new client? I thought you were staying away from the job for the next two days.” Lila’s electric blue eyes scanned over my body and I suddenly wished I dressed less casual.

I looked like a dud compared to her. A smirk appeared across my lips and I cocked my head.

“Not working? River would never,” I taunted keeping my eyes on her.

Her jaw clenched and her smile was forced, “Yes, well all his clients know he has his rehearsal dinner this week. I’m a bit surprised you’re even here.” She seethed, respectfully.

“Lila.” River said turning to her, “She’s not a client. An old friend. Tell Joss we’ll leave in ten.”

Lila nodded, glancing between the two of us before planting a kiss to his cheek before turning back to the house.

River and I stood in silence waiting for the door to click shut. It finally did, the sound lingering in the air it was deafening. He bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably as he stared at me. I knew I looked different and I knew I was the one who stopped speaking to him, but seeing her made me wish I had died and didn’t have to witness the man I loved in the arms of another. With a quickness I turned on my heel and briskly walked back to my car. My keys were biting into my palm and as I reached for my car door, felt the warm metal against my skin did he speak.

“Friday. Noon. Where we first met.”

I caught his eye and the small wistful smile across his lips before he turned around and children’s laughter filled the air as Dorian and Monique came rushing out to greet their Uncle. I ducked into the car, blasted my radio to drown out their voices and peeled away my foot heavy on the gas.

I needed a drink and I knew just the place that would serve me until I couldn’t lift my head anymore.

[rvspberry]

Cat boy Steve trying to cook/ BAKE??? something as a Christmas surprise???

(THIS WAS AN AMAZING ASK!!! And it ended up becoming a modern Catboy AU. And ended up longer than I expected. Anon, I hope you enjoy.)

Steve’s never baked cookies before. He’s never baked *anything* before, to be honest, and he’s never really thought about trying his hand at doing things in the kitchen until now. Billy cooks for them, mostly because Steve can burn water because he gets so easily distracted, ears twitching at every little noise and tail flicking with each new interest that catches his attention.

But the thing is… the thing is, Steve turns on the Hallmark channel the second week of December and watches romcom after romcom with people baking cakes and pies and whole Christmas dinners to show their love. Steve could maybe try cookies. They seem easy enough.

And, like, it sounds cool. Making cookies for Billy. Showing his love through something homemade. Like, he works part-time at Family Video, and he already bought Billy something small, something he could afford. But giving Billy something he put his heart into? Something made with love and care? Something he made with his own two hands?

The way the movies make it out, that’s the best thing he could ever offer to Billy, cookies worth their weight in gold.

It can’t be that hard, right?

So Steve turns to his first source of knowledge anytime he needs to find out how to do something new.

YouTube.

He’s a visual learner, okay? He likes being able to see the steps laid out in real time.

His attention span shoots for the sixty-second video where they do a run-through of the steps to making the perfect chocolate chip cookies. It’s long enough to hold his attention, short enough to keep him focused, and he feels so confident watching it that he goes out and buys all the ingredients he needs. He’s whistling to himself through the grocery store, smiles at the cashier, and when he gets home, he still feels utterly confident.

Until the batter comes out a lot more liquid than solid. The chocolate chips fall off the spoon before he can even scoop them up. Steve winces, but he followed the directions. Even if the directions didn’t have anything like measurements. He kind of eyeballs each ingredient. Two sticks of butter, two eggs, a cup each of flour and sugar, a hefty scoop of baking powder - and then the chocolate chips. But…

It looks weird.

It’s not right.

Steve dips his pinky into the batter and tastes it. It’s bitter, and not sweet enough. He still goes through with it, spooning the liquidy mixture onto the cookie sheet and popping it into the oven.

The oven is a whole other experience entirely, because Steve doesn’t know what the numbers really mean. He pushes a few until the numbers read 2-0-0. That seems like a long time, right? Or is it temperature? Whatever. It works.

...Except the video says to leave the cookies in the oven for 10-15 minutes, and when he pulls them out, they’re still raw. So he pops them back in for 20 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour passes, and they seem to grow more disgusting with every minute that passes.

When he finally pulls them out, somehow raw on top and burnt on the bottom and sides, Steve tosses the whole thing - cookies, tray, and all.

Billy comes home later and crinkles his nose. “Did you burn something, babe?”

“No!” Steve is quick to reply, eyes wide when he looks up at Billy from his spot on the couch where he’d been laying in the sun earlier. “Nope. Not at all.”

“Okay…” Billy drawls, his eyes gazing over at Steve with confusion until he spots something and smiles. Strutting over to Steve, Billy reaches out and rubs his thumb over Steve’s cheek. “You got some flour on you.”

Steve lets out a yelp and flies to the bathroom to wash up properly, Billy snickering behind him.

~

Steve tries again the next week, the week before Christmas. Surely he can master it if he tries to follow a longer video, right? Something with measurements. Something that’s foolproof. And when the batter is finished, with Steve’s focus narrowing enough for him to measure every little ingredient out, it looks just like the video. He pulls it up on his phone, ears twitching as he listens intently.

He follows every step to the T, to the dotted ‘i.’ The sets the “bake” thing to 3-7-5 and puts the sheet inside to begin with. Even waits as the numbers turn from 1-0-0 to 1-2-0, thinking that he must wait 120 minutes for the oven to hear up. He groans when the 1-0-0 turns to 1-2-0… Really? That long? That’s how long it takes to heat the oven?

By the time the oven beeps and the numbers read ‘3-7-5,’ Steve has gotten distracted licking his paws and visibly startles into action.

He places the tray into the oven and even turns on the timer somehow for ten minutes.

But then Steve goes to the living room and lays down on the couch in the sun and starts cleaning his tail, licking the backs of his hands to clean his ears. He doesn’t want Billy to know he’s made cookies until he steps into the kitchen and sees the beautiful pile of them on a plate on the counter. Wouldn’t that be something?

So, ten minutes turn into twenty, and the smell of smoke tinges the air.

Steve crinkles his nose at the scent, his senses more sensitive than a human’s, and then his eyes widen comically in fear.

“No, no, no! Not my cookies!!”

Steve rushes to the kitchen to drag the cookies out of the oven with a mitted-hand and lays them on the stove. Confusion tinges his expression - it curls at the edges of his mouth, curls his eyebrows up, makes him completely disinterested and distrustful of the process. These were going to be fool-proof. Steve-proof.

And he messed it up again.

He scrapes the burnt cookies off the tray into the trash can and soaks the tray in the sink as best as he can, given how tiny it is.

Steve’s tail twitches. How did he screw this batch so badly? How did he not hear the timer?

He realizes that only one person can really help him right now, and resolves to call Joyce Byers.

~

Steve is still smarting from his last attempt, so it takes him another few days to get around to calling her. By the time he does, it’s Christmas Eve.

But Joyce seems happy to help, one catperson to another, and offers up the recipe for her homemade snickerdoodles.

“Could you- could you tell me how to make them? All the ones I’ve tried end up terrible,” he says, wincing at the admission.

“Of course, Steve. Just stay on the phone with me. Put me on speaker so you can use both of your hands. And don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, okay?”

“Okay…”

So, Joyce talks him through properly measuring the ingredients, leveling them off with a knife.

She describes adding the sugar and butter together and calls it “creaming” which makes him fight back a snicker.

He adds the eggs carefully, once at a time, fishing out tiny pieces of eggshell to make sure no one gets that unpleasant surprise. He adds the vanilla, the dry ingredients, rolls them into little balls in a mix of cinnamon sugar, and places them carefully on a baking sheet.

Steve thinks to ask her about the oven numbers and feels like an idiot when she tells him it’s not the time left for preheating but the temperature climbing up to 350’.

Joyce even keeps him on the phone while the cookies bake, both of them sharing information about the latest campaigns of the party. Steve doesn’t have the attention to stay interested in a campaign for as long as they take to trudge through, everyone rolling, everyone making a decision, the boys fighting about what is and isn’t allowed… It’s a lot, and he feels a little better when Joyce agrees with him, both of them dissolving into laughter.

His tail flicks back and forth, casual and easy and contented, and when the timer goes off in the background, Steve actually hears it and Joyce reminds him to take the cookies out to let them cool.

When Billy gets home that night, Steve can’t help the smug smile on his face.

“Damn, I think the neighbor was baking cookies or something, it smells so good in the hallway!” Billy says, toeing off his boots. He stops in the doorway and sniffs the air curiously. His blue eyes turn on Steve, who can’t even pretend to be innocent as his ears are flicked ahead, alert, and his tail whips back and forth with anticipation. “Baby… did *you* bake cookies today?”

The slow smile that steals across Steve’s lips is no less smug, and his tail flicks excitedly. He perks up, licking his lips.

“Do you want to try one?” Steve asks, affecting a shy look right up until Billy nods. Then, Steve stands quickly, shoots his hand out to curl around Billy’s wrist and drags him into the kitchen.

There, on a simple paper plate, are the snickerdoodles Joyce helped him make. Completely harmless, and yet they hold a weight to them that Steve cannot describe.

Steve’s eyes are wide as he watches Billy pick one up, can practically feed his pupils dilating as Billy raises the cookie to his mouth and he takes a bite.

Billy tuns to face him suddenly and Steve’s ears flatten in preparation to be told that they’re terrible. For Billy to spit them out, or- or whatever. To do something that shows that Steve’s efforts were all for naught.

“Steve, these are *delicious*!” Billy exclaims, then shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

“Really?” Steve asks. He looks at Billy through his lashes with his biggest, roundest eyes, a little pout on his lips.

“Baby, yes. Yes, they’re so fucking good,” Billy mumbles through a mouthful of cookie, chewing and swallowing what he had in his mouth. He pulls Steve into his arms and gives him a sweet kiss, the buttery-sugar-and-cinnamon flavor clinging to Billy’s lips. “Did you make these for me…?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, the weight on his shoulders lifting immediately. He ducks his head, trying to hide his grin.

Billy crowds him back against the counter, a hand on either side of Steve caging him in. Steve picks his chin up to lock eyes with Billy, who smiles warmly at him.

“Thank you,” Billy murmurs and turns his head to lean in and press their lips together. “They’re amazing. *You’re* amazing.”

Steve laughs softly and kisses Billy back, his hands moving up to slide into Billy’s hair. “You’re amazing, too. That’s why I made them for you. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Billy whispers, and kisses Steve again.

[platypanthewriter]

My Yuletide Exchange fic!

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan! @harringroveholidayexchange <3

“Hey,” Steve whispered, against Billy’s lips, grinning, pinned to his locker with Billy’s fingers clenched in his jacket. "Hey, I, uh. I got the house to myself for a few days. Wanna—”

“They what,” Billy paused, pulling back to frown at him. “They went away for Christmas without you?”

“No,” Steve laughed. “It’s for business, y’know.” He was still smiling, but it didn’t look happy.

“You wanting a sleepover, Harrington?” Billy asked, laughing.

“Wanna unwrap you Christmas morning,” Steve said, and Billy’s blood all rushed to his dick without stopping to let him answer.

“...maybe I can sneak out,” he said hoarsely. He kissed his boyfriend again, breathing in the smell of wet hair care products, exhaust fumes, and melting snow.

Billy’s dad was late again, that night, and he, Max, and Susan chewed long and peacefully at the rubbery meat in her casserole, listening to tinny Christmas carols.

“Neil, uh,” Susan started, then swallowed. “I—I’m—he said to say—”

“Jesus, Mom, talk for yourself,” Max shot over, and Susan bit her lips together, watching her hands.

She sighed. “He has to go out of town,” she told them, and Billy and Max stared at her, Max’s mouth twitching.

“Wait, when?” Max asked, dropping her fork. “How long will he be gone?”

“He’ll be gone for a week,” Susan said softly, her eyes on the casserole bite she was smushing into her plate. “He’s leaving tomorrow—”

“He’ll be gone for Christmas?! Holy hell, best present ever,” she crowed, and Billy drew a breath, trying not to smile like a goon. He choked on his casserole.

The house was already decorated for Christmas—Susan had done it when they were at school—and Billy coughed into a poinsettia-themed napkin.

He slammed his fist into his chest as he rose and grabbed the phone, hauling the cord into the bathroom to dial. “Steve,” he panted into the phone, still coughing. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hey, I can come. I can come for Christmas.”

“You can?!” Steve sounded startled, but delighted. “You—you want to come over here for Christmas? I don’t—there won’t be anything—I can try to cook a—”

“I’m not coming for dinner, moron,” Billy sighed, feeling his cheeks heat as he grinned. “Not into you for your cooking skills.”

“We should get pies or something. Or ice cream,” Steve said, laughing. “Are—are you sure you wanna—you don’t have to, I mean, I’m used to it, it’s fine, I didn’t expect you to—”

“I’m coming,” Billy told him, imagining Steve watching reruns of Family Feud and staring at the wall all Christmas day. “Shut up, doofus, I’m gonna be there, okay.”

“Gimme the phone, Billy!” Max shouted, kicking the door. “I need to call Lucas!”

He surrendered it as she brushed by him on his way out. Susan was alone at the dinner table, her head in her arms.

On Christmas eve, Steve wouldn’t stop prowling the house, so Billy finally grabbed him around the waist and spun him around. “The hell is your deal. You need walkies?”

Steve laughed, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck. “F’we got some food, we could have like a real Christmas, y’know.”

Billy squinted over Steve ‘TV dinners are food’ Harrington’s shoulder at the wall. “Whaddaya mean ‘food’?”

“...like a ham or something,” Steve mumbled, and Billy considered, swaying them around.

“...you wanna go to the store?” he asked, and Steve pulled away to see his face so fast Billy staggered holding him up. He looked delighted, and Billy sighed internally over his planned lazy day of sex. “I can make a pie or something,” he offered, and Steve hugged him.

Billy was stuffed in Steve’s old ski jacket, taking a smoke break behind the Bradley’s Big Buy while Steve bought the entire grocery store, when he heard a woman’s voice shouting, and some loud thumps. He leaned around the corner of the building into the wind to watch her smacking the pay phone around, and wondered which of her kids was getting the verbal beatdown, but then she stumbled back, wiping her face with both wrists, and turned to bang her fist against the hood of her snow-covered car. The wind tried to take her hat, and she smacked her hand down on her head.

He meandered towards her, checking his watch—Steve had been buying everything for ages, surely everything had already been bought— as she opened her driver’s-side door and climbed in, slumping against the steering wheel. The snow on her roof and window fell a little with the force of her slam, whirling away into the gray evening, but it started building up again almost immediately.

Her car didn’t move. Billy squinted, crouching, to look in her snowy window, and she just sat there, as the sun set on Christmas eve, huddled in her driver’s seat in the snow. Billy wandered over to knock on the driver’s side windshield, the salted road crunching underfoot.

She rolled it down and sniffled, and he squinted at her, fairly sure she was somebody’s mom. “Hello,” she said, wiping her nose with her wrist, but her eyes were suspiciously red and shiny. “I’m fine!” she said brightly, before he could ask.

“A—are you sure?” Billy asked, noticing her shivering, and the buildup of breath on the inside of the windows.

“Merry Christmas!” she said, her voice shaky, and he squeezed against her door as a car passed.

“Uh,” he said, and tried to weigh being nice, which Steve preferred, but which probably meant listening, against his instinct to call her bullshit. “Bullshit,” he said, raising his voice to be heard.

“I-it’s Christmas eve,” she gulped, and started to cry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a last draw on his cigarette, and tossing it behind him into the snowy road. “Doesn’t look too merry, though.” She had to be one of the actual parents of Steve’s kids-by-monster-hunting, he was fairly sure.

“I’m sorry!” she yelled, more at the steering wheel than him, and flailed her arms. “This is—this is crap! Everything is—everything is crap, it’s gone to shit, I don’t—I don’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows. “Who were you tryin’ to call?”

“My kids!” she yelled, smacking the steering wheel again, which put her as probably the littlest one’s mom, he thought, since he didn’t think Henderson had a brother. Or Lucas, he thought, grimacing. You never know, look at me and Susan, maybe he looks nothing like her. She sighed. “And I’m out of dimes.”

“...I might have a dime,” Billy said, jutting his hip in order to dig around in his tightest jeans, the ones he’d worn thinking Steve would peel off him. He found a hole in his pocket, and sighed.

“It’s no use,” she groaned, clicking her lighter about eleven times trying to light a cigarette, until he gave up and grabbed his lighter instead, holding it out. Between the wind and her shivering so hard, he had to chase the end of the cigarette around, and she groaned, starting to snicker. “Oh, jesus. I’m gonna freeze to death on Christmas Eve.”

“I can’t give you one thin dime?” Billy laughed, catching a little of her hysteria, and laughing. He wiped a snowflake off his eyelashes, his cheeks completely numb.

“I have to get home,” she sighed, leaning her head back to blow smoke at the ceiling. “I got...I got dinner to cook…” she groaned, wiping her eyes. “...somehow.”

Billy stood up to frown at the front of the store. Every time the doors opened there was a wind-muffled riff of Jingle Bells or Winter Wonderland, and he looked up to see Steve still hadn’t come out. He sighed. “Maybe you can use the phone in there?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Probably.” She took a long drag and blew out, frowning at him, and rubbing her hands together. “...you one of Jonathan’s friends?” she shouted over the noise of a passing truck.

Hell no, Billy thought, and cleared his throat. “Steve Harrington’s.”

She raised her eyebrows, nodding. “What are you doing out this late? Just out offering women dimes you don’t have?”

Billy snorted, brushing the snow off his shoulders, and rubbing his arms. “That’s my plan, yeah. Nah, Steve’s shopping for tomorrow. I guess we’re burning a turkey.”

She blinked, and leaned closer. “What? ...you two are making a turkey? Here, come around, get in.”

“Uh,” Billy said, shoving his hands in his pockets, but he walked around and climbed in as she unlocked it, so she could roll up the window. “Y-yeah, he wants a turkey,” he said again, in the quiet of the car, watching her shiver. “I mean, Steve’s parents, they’re always out of town—”

“Oh, he’s going to your house?” she asked, smiling over. “That’s nice of your mom.”

Billy swallowed down she’s not my fucking mom, and it’s nothing to do with her, and fuck you, and settled on, “N-no. I’m going to his place.”

“Oh,” she nodded, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, trying to get her blood moving. “Slumber party. Well, kiddo, I wish you more luck than I have ever had, trying to cook turkeys.” She pulled her knees up, hugging them, and sighed. “First turkey ever I burnt the whole outside, had to open all the windows...carve it outside ‘cause of the smoke...but when we stuck the knife in, it was still bleeding. Goddamn...burn victim on the table. Nearly called 911 for the turkey.” Billy was snickering, but he nearly lost it as she sighed out a trail of smoke, and said, “It was so raw inside I nearly tried CPR.”

“Oh no,” he wheezed, leaning against the side of her car. “We can just eat mashed potatoes, I guess.”

“My mom suggested I try adding a little garlic,” she said, curling up tighter. “She meant powdered garlic. Powdered. We kept hitting raw garlic cloves in the mashed potatoes…”

Billy groaned into his arm, leaning against the side of her car, but couldn’t stop sniggering.

“Want me to go in and make a call?” he asked her, and she swallowed hard, her eyes welling up again. Billy froze, lifting his hands for some stupid reason.

“It’s no good,” she moaned into her knees, waving her cigarette around. “What am I gonna do?! Even if Jonathan comes and gets me, I can’t—I can’t cook—”

“...you didn’t get any better?!” Billy asked, startled, imagining decades of bleeding turkey corpses, like a battlefield.

“I did get better,” she snarled, waving the cigarette at him. “I did! It was...it was pretty okay last year, there were good parts! It was edible! But how the hell am I supposed to cook with no power, huh, answer me that, smartass.”

Billy blinked. “...your power’s out?”

“The storm,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Knocked a tree over, broke the kitchen window—” she sniffled. “And now my car won’t start—” She laughed sharply, looking away, and crossed her arms. “Some mother I am, I can’t even keep the heat on.”

Billy climbed out, checking again for Steve, and he was finally there. “HARRINGTON!” he yelled. “HARRINGTON! Over here!” Steve stopped halfway to his car, frowning around, and Billy slammed the door and ran up as Steve was unloading like 900 bags of groceries into his car. “C’mere,” Billy said, “It’s—that kid’s—mom!”

“What?” Steve asked, squinting, and Billy leaned their heads together to hiss “—the monster house lady.” Steve stared at him. “Joyce Byers? She—there were just monsters, she doesn’t have a monster house—”

“Yeah, that one,” Billy agreed, rolling his eyes and yanking Steve’s arm until he came along to Joyce Byers’ half-buried car.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Billy told her. “You got your jumper cables, Harrington?”

“Always do,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows, before leaning to sweep the snow off her passenger window. “Uh, hey, Mrs. Byers.”

Billy was considering his holidays with Steve as he’d planned them—naked the whole time, and no cooking at all—and sighed, remembering Steve agonizing over the selection of potatoes. He knocked on the roof of her car. “We’ll bring his car ‘round, okay?”

“I’m the grown-up here!” she wailed, then closed her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah,” Billy told her, before walking around to put an arm around Steve. “So,” he said, talking in his normal voice, but it was like a whisper with all the wind.

“Sorry,” Steve told him. “I know you wanna get back, but I can’t just leave her there—”

“Hey, I called you over,” Billy hissed, and Steve grinned at him, his gaze dropping to Billy’s lips as he licked his own. Billy’s whole body warmed, and he wanted to just grab Steve Harrington and haul him behind the building and—he took a slow breath, willing himself to think about something else. “Uh, so. You don’t—you got no idea how to cook all this food.”

“I can figure it out!” Steve protested. “I can read—”

“And her kitchen just got smashed by a tree,” Billy continued. Steve’s mouth dropped open. “She’s got no power, and it’s cold, she said.”

Steve’s eyes were wide and worried, and Billy smashed the lid on the coffin of his sex weekend.

“Isn’t that kid of hers, like, ten? You gonna leave him with no heat on Christmas?”

“No!” Steve breathed. “Uh, that okay, though? I know—I know you wanted…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows with a grin that was unfair, given the situation, and Billy elbowed him.

“I want you to have your damn turkey,” Billy growled. “Ham. Whatever.”

“I did also buy a turkey,” Steve admitted guiltily, and Billy kicked his ass lightly as it walked away.

When they got back to Joyce, she was starting to turn blue, so Steve bundled her into his passenger seat while they ran his engine. “Come for Christmas,” he said.

“What?!” she squawked.

“Bring...everybody,” Steve sighed, and Billy realized too late he’d doomed them to a whole day with the man Steve’s ex was dating. “Show me how to cook a turkey?”

Joyce opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then groaned, tipping forward to lean against the glove compartment. “I invited Hopper,” she finally yelled, flailing her arms, and Billy started snickering at Steve’s frown of determination.

“But you don’t have heat,” Steve pointed out. “Invite ‘em over, I got a big-ass turkey. Eleven can hang out with Will.”

“I’m supposed to pick Will up from Dustin’s place,” she sighed into the door of the glove compartment, and Billy bit back a snicker, glancing at Steve—sure enough, when the pay phone rang through to the Hendersons, Dustin was appalled.

“You sayin’ I’m not invited, Steve Harrington?” he hissed. “You know what my mom’s got planned? I’m gonna be on the floor next to the cat, choking down some goddamn Fancy Feast, because you can’t invite your best friend to come to your stupid—”

Steve pressed the phone to his chest, and frowned at Billy, wedged against him in the relative warmth of the phone booth. “Dustin wants to come,” Steve said, as though Billy hadn’t heard him. Or met Dustin Henderson.

“So invite him,” Billy shrugged, rubbing his knuckles along Steve’s ribs, and wishing Joyce Byers wasn’t watching them from the car, blowing on her fingers. Steve licked his lips, watching him back, and Billy hissed, “Steve.”

“Right,” Steve said, jerking back to Earth, and lifted the phone again. “If you’re coming, you gotta bring food.”

“Mom’s not gonna let me make a mess, that’s why I gotta—”

“Bring food,” Billy yelled into the receiver, and hung up. He turned his face so Joyce couldn’t see, kissed his fingers, watching Steve’s face, and saw his adam’s apple jerk as he swallowed. Billy reached up and brushed the kiss over Steve’s jaw, and then elbowed the phone booth door open, stumbling back out.

“Love you,” Steve whispered, and Billy shushed him, bumping their shoulders together.

He’d been with Steve Harrington since the previous morning, and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

When they got back in Steve’s car, Joyce was starting to uncoil, going limp like her strings had been cut as she sprawled in front of Steve’s heat and defrost. Billy climbed in behind Steve, listening to Steve try to convince her to bring her kids over that night, to where there was heat.

Billy had a sudden thought. “Harrington,” he hissed, pushing himself forward to grab the back of Steve’s seat, “—we don’t have a tree.”

“Oh shit,” Steve whispered, his eyes wide, and Joyce started snickering at them. “Go get everybody,” he told Joyce, his jaw set. “We’ll get a tree.”

She just smiled at them, cocking her head, and then took a deep shuddery breath and rubbed her face. “Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll get Jonathan to bring some lights. We got a ton of Christmas lights—”

For some reason, Steve winced at this, but she reached over and squeezed his arm. She held it for a long second, then cleared her throat, and climbed out of the car.

Steve nodded, gripping the steering wheel of the car, and Billy barely waited for Joyce to turn away before he hugged Steve from behind, seat and all. “What’s your problem,” he asked, but Steve laughed softly.

“Just wanna kiss you,” he said, grinning in the rearview mirror.

Joyce’s car behind them sputtered to life, and they climbed out to disconnect the cables.

“Maybe don’t turn off the engine ‘til you make it to our house,” Steve told her, yelling as a car went by, and Billy’s heart thudded in his chest, sending his blood to his face and dick and nowhere else when Steve said our house. He tried to hide his face by turning back to Steve’s car and lighting a cigarette.

“Oh,” she laughed a little jaggedly. “It, um, it’s usually...fine. I just should have started it on my lunch break, you know. In this weather. I was a little…”

“We’re going to go get a tree,” Steve told her, firmly. “You have to bring everyone tonight and help us decorate it. I think I made ornaments in school once,” he muttered. “We could make ornaments?”

“You really don’t have to,” Joyce laughed, shaking her head, poised halfway in the car. “Just get a tiny one!”

“I’m getting a huge tree!” Steve hollered back, his feet spread like he was ready to fight for his ginormous tree, and Billy crunched closer through the half-packed snow on the sidewalk and grabbed him around the waist.

“Let’s go,” he whispered. “We gotta go actually buy it.”

“Bring lots of lights!” Steve was yelling at Joyce, who had her head on her steering wheel. It looked like she was...laughing, Billy hoped.

By the time Billy got the ENTIRE GROCERY STORE Steve had bought into the kitchen, Steve was in the front room with the twelve foot tree, trying to get the door they’d had to take off back onto its hinges. He’d drug out six dusty boxes labeled things like ‘galand’ and ‘ligt stands’ and Billy was wondering whether they were stands or strands when Steve came up behind him, sliding his arms around Billy’s waist, and kissing down his neck.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and Billy leaned into it, letting his head fall to the side.

It was warming again, with the door back in place and closed against the snow, and Billy squirmed around to face Steve, pulling him closer to kiss him open-mouthed before everyone showed up. “What’re you thanking me for,” he whispered.

“Helping me with this shit,” Steve whispered back, kissing him again. “Helping Mrs. Byers.”

Steve’s kisses always went straight to Billy’s dick, and he groaned, stepping a few inches back and clearing his throat. “Damn,” Billy said, hoarsely. “Well. You said it was our house,” he told Steve, smirking. “Gotta back up my man, right.”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve mumbled, and sighed. “Wish it was our house. They don’t need to come back,” he laughed, and it had the wistful note in it that had had Billy just about willing to climb out a window every damn day and just take whatever his dad dished out. “I’d rather have you,” Steve said, grabbing the back of Billy’s neck to yank him in for a quick peck on the lips before he stalked over to stare down at the boxes. “Next Christmas I just want you.”

“...careful what you wish for,” Billy told him, crouching to open a box. It contained cassettes, and Billy smushed the lid closed fast, but not fast enough, and in moments Steve had the house filled with John Denver and the Muppets.

“I’m going home,” Billy muttered into the next box, and then Steve grabbed him and spun him around on the hardwood floor of the front room, and Billy yelled “Fuck! Augh! Fuck you!” but Steve laughed, dancing around him until Billy submitted to ‘dancing’, trying to avoid Steve’s elbows, and not get his stockinged feet stomped by Steve’s bare ones.

“Don’t go home, babe,” Steve told him, laughing, and Billy sighed in his arms.

“...like I would.”

There were ornaments. Glass, mostly, and some cut-out plastic ones of Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown. There was a glass stork that said ‘Baby’s first Christmas, 1966’, and one with a picture of Steve on Santa’s lap staring at the camera with huge stricken eyes like he was being flashed in a different sense of the word.

“Come on, help me get the tree up, first,” Steve told him, and Billy nodded, pulling one out with a picture of Steve’s mom and dad, maybe. They looked like movie stars in a glamor shot for a magazine, and Steve looked maybe four, staring into the middle distance. “Billy Hargrove,” Steve called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Billeeeeeeeeeee.”

Billy bit his lips as he got to his feet, and threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders, squeezing him hard. “I’m here, I’m here. Too bad we can’t get the wood stove going.”

“Oh,” Steve blinked at it. “That’d be nice, huh. There are probably pellets somewhere. Now,” Steve said, leaning back into Billy’s chest. He steepled his fingers, and Billy registered that he’d dumped three of the other boxes out in a mess of stockings, lights, and a hollow light-up snowman.

“Our tree is too big for the tree stand I found,” Steve said, like that was a normal problem to have, and Billy started snickering again. “No, no, it’ll work,” Steve mumbled, eyeing the tree and the ceiling, “—I’ll hang it from the ceiling. On a wire. And—and we can stick it in a bucket. It’ll last longer,” he announced, “—like cut flowers!”

“When is Christmas, Harrington,” Billy whispered back. “Today is Christmas eve, so how long does the tree need to last? One day, Harrington. One.”

“It’ll work,” Steve hissed back, and Billy waved as his boyfriend went off to war, a soldier searching the garage for weapons in the fight against a twelve-foot tree.

“Be brave,” Billy called, and Steve flipped him off, shutting the garage door on “—our prayers go with you!” While Steve was gone, Billy ran his fingers through his hair, and sat down to check the lights, plugging each strand into the wall. He groaned at the two that didn’t work, and considered testing every bulb...and then tiptoed to the kitchen, and wedged them into the very bottom of the trash.

Steve returned triumphant, drill in hand, and Billy got the hell out from under the ladder, stomping off to the garage himself to find an extension cord for all the lights. When he returned, Steve was trying to balance the tree on top of the bucket, and Billy tossed the extension cord aside and ran to help, so Steve could climb the ladder and wire the damned thing to the ceiling.

It looked ridiculous. “Feel like I’m in a fucking Macy’s,” Billy growled, and Steve beamed at him.

“Yank on it!” he suggested, and Billy kicked the ladder. Steve swore, glowering down.

“I’m not yanking on your monster tree, you think I wanna die like a vampire, stake through my chest,” Billy muttered, and Steve jumped down and hugged him, his sweater warm, his face cold from the air in the garage. Billy groaned into his shoulder. “...we’re boning under this thing, right,” he asked, long-suffering, and Steve blinked, then nodded.

“Yeah, I mean,” he cleared his throat, biting back a smirk. “Of course.”

“Okay,” Billy sighed again, and set his shoulders. “Okay, then.”

“Fucking love you,” Steve said fondly, and Billy glared at him, and then the piles of lights.

“Yeah?! Yeah, you—you fucking better,” he hissed, when the knock came at the door.

Jonathan and Will Byers wandered in with sleeping bags to stare at Billy’s armload of lights, and he could hear Joyce’s horrified voice when she saw the massive ham in the kitchen, next to the turkey they could have shoved Will inside of.

“Steve’s possessed,” Billy broke it to them, and Steve yelled back something about the spirit of Christmas. Billy nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows at the Byers’, and saw them realize they were as doomed as he was.

“Uh,” said Jonathan, clearing his throat. “Lemme help with the lights?”

Here’s part two! 

[britishboystm]

It’s Always Been You (Tom Blake Smut)

warnings: angst, smut, death

word count: 4,723

a/n: I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve written for Tom

•••

Tom had always been a good friend. His family did cherries and yours did apples.

Before the two of you were born, your fathers went into business together and shared a booth at the Saturday market in your town. Both your mothers were thick as thieves and had gotten pregnant around the same time, and you were born a month after Tom. It was safe to say you were never going to leave each other’s sides.

You did everything together, well until your father became worried that you were becoming too much like a boy by spending so much time with Tom. You’d fondly remember the times the two of you would go down to the river and stand in the water up to your knees trying to see who could catch the most tadpoles. The two of you would usually come back to yours or his farm around dinner time covered in mud and dirt up your waist. Your mother always complained that she couldn’t see your pretty face due to the muck that was often smeared on it. Because of all this you ended up being sent to a private girls school a few miles south, where you weren’t allowed to see Tom unless it was Christmas.

You secretly wrote to one another though during your time at boarding school and when his father passed away from pneumonia you were his only real support system other than his brother. His mother went into a bad depression after his father's death so he was left to grieve his father's passing alone.

Once your learning was finished, you did not hesitate to come home and help on Tom’s farm again. Tom’s mother would pay you to pick cherries since your father had sold his orchard.

But things had changed when you came home. Tom was no longer the little chubby boy who you could mess around with and make mud pies and pretend to eat with. His hair had darkened and his shoulders had broadened. Not to mention he now towered you. He was a man. And a handsome man at that. You never noticed that about him before.

The glances you shared now didn’t hold the same innocence it once did. There was something different in his chilly blue irises. His gaze would last a little too long when you would bend over to pick up the barrels of cherries and whenever the two of you rinsed them by the big well, he always found a way to sneak a small graze of your hand so you wouldn’t forget he was there beside you.

But those flirtatious moments didn’t last forever when war was declared in Britain. Almost immediately, Joe was sent off to fight for king and country. Tom didn’t need to but because Tom had to always be the same as Joe or one up him, he had kept saying he was going to enlist as well. You didn’t take it seriously until one day Tom came running down the driveway to meet you and his mom, who were depitting the last batch of the season.

“I did it, I did it!” You frowned in confusion at his obvious excitement as he hopped around with a letter in hand. His mother grabbed the letter from him quite quickly and nearly fainted after reading the first two lines. The two of you quickly grabbed her and called it a night, bringing her into the house.

His mother was in shambles and was now seated on the couch while she sobbed into her hands. She didn’t even have the desire to cook dinner. That’s when you knew things were bad.

“What did you do?” You say to Tom as he sorrowfully watched his mom cry.

“I enlisted, I’m leaving next week to fight in France.” It was now your turn to almost faint as you grab the kitchen table beside you.

“Have you gone mad?” You breathe out as you take a seat to steady yourself.

“No I haven’t. If Joe can do it so can I!” His voice raised in anger as he crossed his arms over his chest, obviously upset at the double standards that were set for him and his older brother.

“That is not what this is about Tom. Joe is gone, there is nothing we can do about that. But you? It was so easily avoidable but you’ve gone and ruined everything. How selfish can you be? Who will your mother have if both you and Joe don’t return home? Who will I have?” You begin to choke up near the end and let a single tear slip down your cheek.

Tom sighs and storms out of the kitchen, probably heading upstairs to freshen up while you prepare the dinner since Mrs. Blake clearly wasn’t well enough to.

You focused on making dinner as Mrs. Blake and Tom sat in the living room, not speaking to one another. What was there to say? Tom knew yours and his mother’s thoughts on it all and he was too stubborn to be convinced to not leave.

Once dinner was ready everyone sat at the table and ate quietly. Again no words were spoken and the tension was so thick amongst the three of you. None of you were able to finish due to the unsettling feeling you all shared so you finally gave up and collected the half eaten dishes and placed them into the sink.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Mrs Blake said as she slowly got up and weakly walked up the stairs to her room. She looked so frail and worn out that it made you even more mad at Tom for the pain he was already causing.

You stood at the sink and faced away from Tom as he stayed put at the table. The only sounds that filled the room was the clashing of dirty plates and running water.

This was all such a mess.

———-

Later that night you found yourself sitting on the haystack in the Blake barn with the doors wide open as you stared out at the navy night sky. Stars adorned the sky. They continued to shimmer, unaware of the fact that your world was falling apart at the seams. Funny how time and space works, you thought. So many other thoughts rattled around your brain, all of them making you want to cry.

You were so deeply focused on your little world that you didn’t initially hear Tom walk in.

“Couldn’t sleep either huh?” He said before walking up and taking a seat beside you on the hay.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You don’t respond but rather stare out into nothing with an emotionless expression.

“The least you can do is talk to me.” He says, nudging you lightly to lighten the mood.

“I wanted to marry you.” You blurt out of nowhere in a montone way. There was a good chance he was never coming home so at this point you felt as though you had nothing to lose.

He bowed his head in shame and twiddled his thumbs, clearly trying to absorb this big bombshell.

“Really?” He says finally looking at you and trying to hide his excitement.

“Yeah but at this point it’s foolish to think like that, considering I may never see you again.” You finally look at him with hurt in your eyes which he matches almost immediately.

“Y/N I-“ He tries to say something but you are quick to cut him off.

“Why is this so important to you?” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before getting more comfortable in his spot.

“I don’t know. I feel as though I have lived my entire life being the lesser of the two brothers. Joe has always been the golden child that I wanted to prove myself. That I can be courageous and brave just like him.” You bite your lip from saying anything that may hurt him. It made sense why he would do this but you still hated the idea.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of course I am. I’m scared shitless. But I’ve been scared shitless my entire life.” You sigh and the two of you sit in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of crickets and the warm night breeze floating by.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” He says out of the blue, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. You nod in return, silently telling him there is no reason to feel judged by you.

“There is one more thing I’m scared of.”

“And what’s that?”

“I shouldn’t say. It’s so bloody embarrassing.”

“What? No! You have to tell me now! That isn’t fair!”

“Okay fine.” He sighs.

“Spit it out then.” You say with an urgency to your voice.

“I’m scared of dying a virgin.” Your eyes go wide and you look over to him to see if he is joking or not. When you see him looking down at his lap shamefully, a blush creeps upon your face. You had never really discussed those things before. Especially with him.

Girls talked about it when you were in private school but you didn’t usually have anything to contribute.

“Oh.” Is all that you are able to get out.

“I’m sorry, I should have just kept that to myself. Forget I said anything.” He begins to ramble, clearly trying to backtrack on his last comment.

“There is no reason to feel ashamed of those type of things Thomas. Those are normal worries people have.”

“You think so?” He says hopefully.

“Of course. I also get scared by the idea of never being able to feel that way with someone. It’s natural.” It was now his turn to blush. Oh to be the one to make you feel that way, he thought.

“Tom?” You finally say, bracing yourself for his response.

“Yes?” He says back.

“You know. If we both share this fear, we could always… get rid of it together.” He is speechless and his jaw drops as he stares at your nervous expression.

“Do you really want to?” He finally gets out.

“Well, we know each other and we are good friends. I also feel very comfortable with you which is important.”

“Right but we aren’t married.”

“At this point Tom I don’t really care about that. I need to vent all of these emotions somehow.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“So that’s what this is about. You want to fuck out your feelings because I’m leaving?” He seemed a little hurt by this. Like this was simply an impulse or an itch that was aching to be scratched. That was part of it but it was mostly the fact that you’ve wanted him to be your first the minute you returned home and saw just how much of man he had become. You loved him and he was now giving you a free pass to finally fulfill your desires.

“No, Tom that is not it. I want to lose my virginity and to be quite honest, I couldn’t think of anyone else I would want to lose it to.”

“Really?” A cocky smirk came upon his lips as he leaned in and nudged you slightly. You rolled your eyes in response and scoffed.

“Okay you don’t need to get all cocky about it.” He laughed before trying to start something by catching your gaze in his.

And with no warning Tom pounced on you and began kissing your neck roughly which caught you off guard.

“Tom get off! What are you doing?” You squeal as you push him away.

“What? I thought you said you wanted to lose your virginity to me. I leave next week remember?” Your glare is piercing as you stood up.

“I didn’t mean here at this very moment! God can you at least give me a warning before you try and pull something like that?” He falls back a bit onto the hay bale with an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Sorry.” He says realizing his wrong doing. You weren’t just an inanimate object that could just be used whenever. Contrary to what your father always believed, you were a person of integrity and if you needed time, then by god you were doing to get the respect you deserved.

“I think I will go to bed now.” Your words are soft as you turn around and hesitantly head out into the vast land of the Blake farm. You couldn’t help but look back to see Tom sitting there, embarrassed. Millions of thoughts swam around but one kept finding itself coming back again and again. That specific feeling that came whenever Tom did chores around the barn that made his muscles flex was coming back and even though you had just rejected him, the feeling was growing more and more.

“Fuck it.” You say under your breath before you quickly turn around and plop down onto his waist in a straddle, causing him to let out a groan at the sudden impact.

He looks at you in confusion, and right before he could say another word you quickly attach your lips to his. The kiss was aggressive and feverish as your hands threaded through his hair, gripping it tightly to get him to part his lips. As a result he let out a small gasp at your fingers tugging at his roots and your tongue swirling around his mouth. This was your first ever kiss and soon to be first ever time so you weren’t going to hold back. Not if it was with Tom.

Everything felt so right in that moment. Just two nineteen year olds using the last bit of time together before probable tragedy. You had a gut feeling that Tom was never going to walk up that long gravel driveway ever again. You shooed those horrid thoughts away.

“Tom.” You sigh against his plush lips. He pulls away and intently looks into your eyes, worry evident on his face.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked. You couldn’t help but giggle at his puppy like demeanour.

“Of course not. You are being so kind Tom.”

Your gaze then suddenly becomes transfixed with his white button shirt. Then without a second thought your hands grazed up and down his covered chest before you began to unbutton the first three, exposing his sternum. You look up to see him intensely watching your actions, his breathing beginning to increase.

“Are you sure Y/N?” He says while his hands run up and down the sides of your basic grey dress.

“Only if you are.” You whisper back. Taking this as affirmation he flips you around and lays you gently on the cushiony yet scratchy hay that held the both of you off of the dirty ground of the barn.

“You know I have always, thought, you were, so beautiful.” He says in between kisses along your face. You smile softly at his words and sigh, allowing yourself to fall deeper into the hay.

“Thomas Blake you always knew how to make a girl blush.” He chuckles at this and stops kissing you, holding himself up above your body.

“You remember the time your parents invited the Darby’s to Christmas Dinner. How it was your first year back from St. Clares and because they were the richest family in town, your parents tried to set you up with their son Richard?” You roll your eyes.

“Tom what does this have to do with us having sex right now?” You were growing slightly impatient.

“Wait, let me finish love.” You sigh and shift slightly to grow more comfortable. This may take some time, you thought.

“I remember I was so mad because your parents wouldn’t let me play with you. They basically threw you to Richard and I had to watch them try to play matchmaker. At the time I believed that I was angry because I wasn’t allowed to play with my best friend since you had been away for so long. But years later I looked back at that moment and I realized that I was jealous. Jealous at the fact that you were paying all of your attention to Richard and not me. Of course your parents made you but I remember making Richard my sworn enemy that day. Stupid huh?” You smile and run a hand down his cheek.

“No not at all. I can’t believe you remember that.” His words made you think for a moment. He had been in love with you for so long and you didn’t even notice.

“Tom?” You ask.

“Yes Y/N?” Your body almost turned to jelly at his readiness to do anything for you. The adoration was so obvious that “in love” could easily be stamped on the slightly older boy's forehead.

“Would it be crazy to say I am, whole heartedly, absolutely, in love with you Thomas Blake?”

“No it wouldn’t.” He laughed.

“And would I be absolutely mad to say that I am, insanely, crazily, in love with you Y/N L/N?” You shake your head with a smile and with that he leans in once more and continues the eventful night with a loving yet lustful kiss.

His hands begin to have a mind of their own as they roam your body. After exploring most of your many curves, his left hand slowly made its way under your dress, lifting it slightly and beginning to touch you over your knickers.

“Oh my.” You gasp out as he places a tad bit of pressure on your clit.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, watching your reactions intently.

“Very tingling, ve-very g-good.” You try to get out in between gasps. He smirks proudly at this and begins creating circles against the fabric that covers your centre.

“Off. Off Tom, please.” You slightly beg. Wanting to make you feel good, Tom begins to slide your knickers down your legs and chucks them off to the side.

“Can I see?” He asks sheepishly. You curve your neck so you can see him down between your legs.

“Yes.” You respond. With a steady hand, Tom lifts your dress, dropping it up around your waist and groans at the sight of your exposed, glistening cunt.

“Wow.” Is all he can say.

“Tom!” You whine, unable to bear the throbbing feeling between your thighs.

“Sorry, just got distracted.” He mutters. Tom then leans in and lets out a hot breath. Your legs clench at this and Tom becomes aware with just how sensitive you really are.

“I’m going to kiss you here. Is that alright darling?” You nod weakly and with that his lips attach to your centre. A moan is drawn out of you almost instantly.

“Fuck. This cannot be your first time.” You blurt out, clutching his hair. He smirks against you before he sits up again and places a long kiss on your awaiting lips.

“Just you darling. It’s always been you.” You giggle in response and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him flush against you.

“Y/N I don’t know how much longer I can last without putting my cock in you.” He spurts out in pent up frustration.

“Charming words there.” you scoff before he begins to unbutton his dirty work slack and push them down his legs.

“Can I unlace you’re-“ you sit up, already knowing what he is about to say. Your hands swing to the back of your dress and you quickly begin to unravel the back, letting it fall off your upper body. Your breasts were perked to the air from outside.

“Christ.” He says before leaning down and taking one breast into his mouth. He is slow and gentle with his actions, clearly showing you how important this moment was for him. With small mewls leaving your lips every once in a while, you ran your fingers through his hair again. This time you made sure to be more soft on his scalp.

“I’m ready, are you?” He whispers as he moves his mouth up to your jaw, hands still caressing your bosom. You nod slowly which makes him smile. It was finally going to happen.

He brings himself up again and places his hands on either side of your head.

You take a moment to take in his member. The only time you had seen one was when you snuck an anatomy book from the library when you were in school. Seeing one in real life was a whole new experience

He notices your stare and smirks.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

“I don’t know. It’s so different from the books. This is all so new to me.”

“It’s alright darling. We will learn together.” You nod in response and before you knew it, he was beginning to insert himself into you.

The feeling was so forgein and awkward that you had to smack him to stop.

“Ow fuck, Tom stop!” He quickly removes himself and holds you into his chest.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” You grab him tighter in thanks and lean away a tad to look at his concerned face.

“It feels so tight. Could you maybe use your fingers first?” He nods and slips a hand down your dress again. One finger is dipped inside and you let out a sigh of relief. This was a lot easier to manage, you thought.

“Oh Thomas that feels so good.” You say. He smiles and takes your praise to allow himself to enter a second finger. Your legs clench a tad as he moves his fingers in and out, every once in a while, spreading your increased wetness along your slit.

“I think I’m ready now.” You say. It didn’t take much for him to remove his fingers and lick off your wetness. Then he positioned himself the same way he did not that long before. His member slipped into you and this time around it felt a lot less uncomfortable. It still caused a pressure but not enough for you to scream bloody murder.

“Should I move?” He asks. You were doing it. This was no longer a dream or a fantasy. Thomas Blake was staring down at you with his cock inside at the hilt.

“God yes.” You moan while throwing your head back and closing your eyes. Tom began retracting his hip and then swirled them around before pushing forward again.

“Fuck me.” He cries out.

“I’m so happy we did this.” He says. You grip his shirt and open up the rest of the buttons, allowing the rest of his torso to be revealed to you. Your hands ran up and down his chest and soft stomach.

“Slow down.” You whisper gently. He nods and his movements start to calm. His eyes are entranced by yours and you can’t help but notice tears in his eyes.

“Are you crying?” You ask.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He whimpers back, as he continues to move back and forth within you. Tears began brimming your eyes and as you both let tears fall through your orgasms, you pulled him flush against you.

“Come home to me.” You kept repeating.

“I promise.” He would say back with as much of a clear voice he could muster up.

And with that your legs begin to shake and you let out an elongated moan. His seed spills deep inside of you and as he removes himself from your core you can't help but feel it drip down your inner thigh.

“I love you Thomas Blake.”

“I love you Y/N L/N.”

———

You stared blankly out the kitchen window as you dried off the plates from lunch. The sky was a gloomy grey but no rain fell. Mrs Blake sat silently in the living room, knitting a small bonet with yellow yarn.

Your mind was somewhere else that you hadn’t initially noticed a car pull up and a soldier stepping out, letter in hand.

The plate you had been drying crashes in the soapy water beneath you and you quickly dry your hands on your apron as you attempt to run out the front door.

“Mrs Blake?” The man asks as you open the door rather frantically.

“No but she’s in. Iris!” You call out. She walks slowly from her chair and situates herself beside you.

“I’m Mrs Blake.” Her words were shaky. It was almost as though she knew exactly what was about to come out of the man's mouth.

“We regret to inform you that Thomas Blake was killed in action on April 6th. His belongings will be sent to you in the next couple of weeks. We are sorry for your loss and the rest of the information given will be found in this letter.” And with that the man looked down at your stomach and sighed with sorrow before handing over the letter and walking back to the car.

Your legs went numb instantly. The only sounds you could make were loud gut wrenching sobs. You clenched your stomach as you held onto the door frame for support.

“He’s gone Iris! My beautiful Tom is gone!” She grabbed you and mixed your sobs with hers. Myrtle and the puppies were now at your feet, grazing your calves in a calming matter, almost as though they had known what had happened.

“My boy!” She lets out.

“My baby boy!”

————

Dear Y/N,

I can safely say that this is one of the hardest letters I have ever had to write. I am sure you have gotten the news before this gets to you so I want to say that I am so sorry for your loss. Tom was nothing but a good, selfless man who cared for others so deeply. Before he died, his only wish was that I wrote to you and his mother. He talked about you every chance he could. The stories from when the two of you were little, how you were the most beautiful being that he had ever seen. How him replaying your laugh in his head was the only way to get him to sleep at night when things were tough here in the trenches. He didn’t die in vain. He died knowing that he fulfilled his duty of loving you each waking moment, even if it saddened him he couldn’t do it alive for much longer.

I remember his last words to me so very clearly.

“Tell my beautiful Y/N I love her. That I will always be with her.”

He handed me this picture of the two of you together. There is some blood on it but he would have wanted you to have it nevertheless. I hope this gives you peace during these trying times and god bless Y/N.

Sincerely,

William Schofield

“Mommy, mommy look!” A small voice calls out. You drop the letter and picture of you and Tom staring longingly at each other that you had read and looked at so many times before to see your son holding a small pool of water in his hands.

“What do you have there?” You call out. He then runs up from the river and drops down beside you under the willow tree you were situated at.

“I caught a tadpole!” He says proudly.

“That’s amazing Thomas!” He smiles at your encouraging words before running back down to the water. You watched him intently as he giggled in entertainment. Sometimes you had to let out steady breaths to stop yourself from crying. He was truly the spitting image of his father, a mini Tom if you will. The icy blue eyes and the chocolate wavy hair gave him away so easily. It pained you so much to wake up and see your Tom in him every day, but it was also a blessing in disguise. Even though Tom was no longer around, he had left you a gift that you could never thank him enough for. Tom Jr was so sweet and kind and loved making friends with everyone he came across, just like his father. He was your support system and you both adored each other. He was your best friend.

And for that, you were internally grateful to Mr. Thomas Blake.

[cheezritsu]

Haikyuu Couple Aesthetics (pt 2)

part one here!

Kageyama Tobio: couple workouts, linked pinkies, lingering touches, butterflies in your stomach even after years of knowing him, parting his sweaty bangs after a gruelling match, sitting in your lap during study sessions. The childhood friends couple; always attending his games, setting a separate ringtone for when he calls at 2 am from another country, his thumb caressing your cheek when he kisses you, walking home after practices with his face washed with sunset; tiny, barely there smiles meant for your eyes only; mundane tasks as dates, buying magazine covers with his face on them; knuckle kisses, massaging his tense muscles after long, grueling days; pressing your foreheads together, looking deep into his love filled eyes; always following your advice, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in your scent; recalling old memories with his grandfather, cooing over baby pictures, having each other as your phone background, being prideful for him, trophy husband jokes; standing up for him no matter what. Slow, unsure kisses, even after so many years; always saying “see you later” and never goodbye, soothing his worries with a hug, knowing what he means even when he’s quiet. You two are the star crossed lovers, never quite separated as long as you’re in love. 

Hinata Shoyo: 8 hour phone calls, tan lines, bruised arms, giving Natsu advice like she’s your sister; the sunshine couple; constant encouragement, sitting on the back of his bike and going down hills, Marvel movie marathons, talking so much you forget to eat, reading Shonen jump together, him teaching you volleyball, showing up to all his matches; the number 10 proudly across your chest; brushing away his frustrated tears with the back of your hand; video calls with 12 hours between you two, spontaneous dates, convenience store slushies, being shown off to his friends, pinky promises, cheek kisses, running through the streets with intertwined hands, laughing maniacally; making any day an adventure, getting meat buns at 2am, sitting in the stands at practices, learning Brazilian recipes, smiling contently as he tells yet another story about Brazil; holding his face so gently he might cry, hugging him like he’ll vanish under your fingertips; never whispering “I love you,” only screaming it so everyone can hear. Proud smiles, even in hard times. You two are Icarus and the sun, your fierce love the one thing that keeps the wax from melting under your wings. 

Azumane Asahi: braiding each others hair, linking pinkies, slightly mismatched appearances, long, ambling walks home while the sun sets; comforting whispers, spinning hugs, promise rings, the sweet couple; always having the right words, modeling his designs, long distance calls on Saturday nights, dried roses, brown sugar boba tea, framed couple photos, bubble baths, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, running errands as dates; sleeping in his tee shirts while he’s away, stealing glances at one another, shoulders always touching on train rides, still blushing whenever your hands brush, being his personal cheerleader, having a mailbox with both your names on it, at home haircuts, rainy day dates; softly kissing each other awake; candid photos, monthly anniversary gifts, a comforting touch always close at hand. You two are Orpheus and Eurydice, willing to plunge the depths of hell to stay together. 

Iwaizumi Hajime: late night FaceTimes, learning to skateboard, insulting one another as a love language, stuttering out “I love yous”, couple workouts, being in each other’s profile pictures, bullying each other at any given moment, double dates, matching denim jackets, couple outfit of the day posts, melting into his arms, airport reunions, stealing his food during dates, the laid back couple; stealing his hoodies, long walks filled with easy conversation, having a dog as a child, being dubbed “Iwaizumi’s cool partner,” wherever you go; late night convenience store runs, sunrise hikes, arm wrestling competitions to win arguments, protective arms around your waist as you sleep, unironically calling him “Iwa-Chan”; cheesy Disneyland California couple photos, staying up with him as he studies for exams, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders, listening to his old Seijoh stories, being loved by Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa, resting a comforting hand on his chest, taking pictures of him in the background at sports events, taking pride in everything each other does. Not so much saying it love you,’ but seeing it. You two are the moon and the ocean; tidally locked with one another, and never wanting it any other way. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi: taping his matches on tv, wearing his coats when he’s away, champagne flutes, fancy dinner parties, the classy couple; musky, dark cologne, tacky souvenirs from countries he’s visited, indoor plants everywhere, cooking breakfast together whenever possible, courtside seats at his games, peaceful silences, quiet vacations, fancy dinner dates, pearl necklaces, first class flights, monogrammed luggage, smiling at your shared last name, french manicures, laced hands, moonlit walks, promise rings, handwritten letters, traditional weddings, feather light kisses to your knuckles; listening to his voice to fall asleep, mindless touches, secret smiles, ironic heart emojis, learning each other’s love language, sitting in his lap while he watches matches, coming home together after long days apart, fluffy white robes, his and hers sinks, forehead kisses, patiences, evenings spent reminiscing with Shiratorizawa, never losing sight of what’s important: each other. Accepting him no matter what, squeezing his hand for reassurance, saying ‘goodbye’ just so you can say ‘hello’. You two are like wild ivy, growing and entangling in one other until you’ve become one. 

Tendou Satori: watching anime until the sun comes up, taping his bruised fingers, singing his impromptu songs, cheering loudly for him at games, exchanging memes for hours, the silly couple; walking home with swinging intertwined hands, comic shop dates, playful banter, calling him “miracle boy” with a seriousness that makes him blush; bullying Goshiki, amusement park dates, stuffed animal presents, incoherent love notes, keeping pictures of you in his wallet, making chocolates in the dead of night, singing loudly in the shower, tickle fights, sneaking into his dorm when you can’t sleep, coming to his defense whenever, wherever; spit shakes, inside jokes, teasing whispers, learning tiktok dances, anime hoodies, cooing over his baby pictures, protective glares, shoulder touches, identical laughter, falling deeper in love with every passing second. You two are a hurricane; a force to be reckoned with with no intentions of stopping. 

Bokuto Kotarou: Being Akaashi’s worst nightmare, screaming songs in the car together, throwing rocks at each others windows in the dark, laughing on the phone underneath blankets, kisses every time you see each other; the inseparable couple; always knowing when he needs a hug, playing with his hair, wearing his jersey to volleyball matches, spoiling him at any chance, staying in bed an extra five minutes, trying new restaurants every other day, getting lost in the city for hours, constant snapchats, good morning texts, surprise visits at work, piggy back rides, ice cream on summer days, friendship bracelets, comedy movies, Polaroid pictures, bear hugs, beach dates, sleeping with his head in the crook of your neck. Hands always touching, nose kisses, spikes dedicated to you, air kisses across crowded stadiums, posing for paparazzi, the entire world knowing your name because he can’t keep your name out of his mouth for ten seconds. You two are remnants of the same star, finding one another across space and time. 

Semi Eita: dyed hair, eyebrow piercings, walls lined with guitars, dive bars, muffled singing from the shower, sake shots, world tours, chain necklaces, wearing his merchandise, karaoke dates, fishnet stockings, luxury hotels,the sexy couple; being his muse, velvet sofas, singing duets in the kitchen while making breakfast, dazzling smiles, having a makeshift recording studio in your living room, papers littered with song lyrics, starving artist budgets, breakthroughs at 4am, meeting his old teammates at concerts, silly audio recordings of meaningless conversations, “babe, listen to this!” the intimacy of sharing headphones, pressing kisses to his calloused fingertips, having more amps than furniture, spending hours in comfortable silence untangling his chords, the rush of listening to his new songs, constantly being on your toes, kisses that make your heart stop, being so proud of him. Long days spent slaving over work, his soft voice smooth like honey. Agonizing practices, staying by his side no matter what. You two are Bonnie and Clyd; absolute ride or dies through thick and thin. 

Kozume Kenma: watching all his videos, popping by work to give him lunch, singing softly while doing laundry at his house, making out in his gaming chair, soft, the intuitive couple; teasing fingers up your thigh, expensive gifts, housewife jokes, blanket burritos, at home dates, Speedrunning videos games, botched apple pies, having delivery on speed dial, curling his hair behind his ear before kisses, cat cafes, Gucci sunglasses, jamming to video game soundtracks, DND game nights, being in the background of his live streams, owning cats like children, bingeing on convenience store snacks, horror movie marathons, making fun of Kuroo, carding your hands through his growing hair, quick, stolen kisses, feeling completely at home with one another; watching cartoons till one am, matching stickers on your Nintendo switches, animal crossing weddings, sharing scarves, waking up curled into each other with the afternoon sun through your blinds, genuine and ugly laughter; smiles so soft you think you’re imaging them, listening to him pour his heart out about a game that broke him; ever laughing at him, slowly slipping to sleep while he plays video games, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You two are video game protagonists, falling in love like the universe intended you to. 

Suna Rintaro: Black sports cars, luxury apartments, Adidas track pants, fresh Nike sneakers, black and white everything; the aesthetic couple; matching outfits, silver rings, flashing lights, hazy bars, rolled blunts, hip hop beats rattling through your car speakers, late night texts, slow, languid kisses; rainy days, bedroom eyes, button down shirts, chipped nail polish, saying “bruh,” instead of “babe,” petty insults, wandering hands, dipping out of family reunions, noise complaints, throwing snacks into each other’s mouths, having your orders known at a restaurant, red solo cups, ash trays, house parties, spinning a record and listening to it for hours, laying on the floor with nothing to do; silk sheets, midnight drives, stupid jokes, lazy smiles, fist bumps, the inherent romanticism of not being romantic; bathroom selfies, upsetting the twins, always being one the same page, wilted flowers, tracing the outline of his lips before diving in for a kiss, trusting one another completely. You two are silver screen lovers, having the romance all teenagers would die to have. 

[thecassadilla]

Of All the Apples

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 3,752/AO3

Summary: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Okay, so there may be a teeny bit of projection here - I really wanted to go apple or pumpkin picking at some point during this month. I doubt it’ll happen, so I may as well just write about other people doing the things that I want to do, right? Anyways, for some strange reason this was *incredibly* difficult to write - I think I revised it 30 times. I still don’t know if I’m completely satisfied, to be honest. I don't even know if it makes any sense?? But I'm just going to post it anyway. Enjoy!!!

Hearing the doorbell ring had become a familiar and expected sound. Every single day, around the same time, Anna rang the bell and patiently stood on Kristoff’s doorstep. She waited to be invited inside, even though he had told her multiple times to just come inside when she felt like it. He left the door unlocked for a reason, after all.

“Come in!” he called. He heard the door open and close from where he was, and dainty footsteps made their way towards the living room. In no time at all, she had made it to the couch, quietly collapsing into the empty spot next to him. For some reason, it made him think back to the first time they had met.

He remembered it like it had happened yesterday instead of a year ago. He’d just moved into his new rental - the tiniest house on the street - which happened to be right next door to the grandiose mansion Anna and her sister had inherited from their deceased parents. Anna, still very much a stranger at this point, had shown up on his doorstep with a store bought box of chocolate cupcakes. After apologizing profusely for not baking them herself, oversharing about her lack of skills in the kitchen, and apologizing again for assuming he’d like chocolate, she handed him the box and welcomed him to the neighborhood. That very day, he fell in love with the girl who lived next door.

She walked into his life on her own volition and for some reason that he couldn’t understand, she kept coming back. Since their initial meeting, much had changed. Before he knew it, she was spending more time at his house than she was at her own, and they were sharing intimate conversations and passionate kisses. Their relationship evolved before his own eyes - from neighbors, to friends, to starting an incredibly fulfilling sexual relationship.

Despite the fact that he was completely and utterly in love with her, he spent nearly every waking hour convincing himself that she’d never want to be more than what they currently were; that every shared moment between them was some form of pageantry as opposed to something very, very real.

Instead of believing in the possibility that she could be as in love with him as he was with her, he attempted and failed to keep her at an arm's length; she was intoxicating and it was too difficult to stay away from her, no matter how much he knew that it would hurt when it ended and she moved on with someone else. So, he kept his feelings to himself and never defined their relationship.

But today, something was off. She wasn’t acting like her normal, perky self; she was quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

“Nothing is wrong per se,” she answered with a sigh. “But I have a question for you and I think that I already know what the answer is going to be.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged her.

“I know you hate going places, but I really want to go apple picking tomorrow, and I was hoping that you’d want to come along with me.” She gave him a hopeful smile, batting her eyelashes at him.

Though she always attempted to make plans with him outside of the house, they rarely went out in public together and when they did, it was only to the grocery store. He was too afraid to be seen with her because in his eyes, a guy like him didn’t deserve a girl like her. “Oh. I don’t really think I’ll be useful -”

“You’d be useful!” she insisted enthusiastically. “Because you’re so tall! And I would really love to go with you. Can you please come apple picking with me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Somehow it was the best answer that he could come up with. He didn’t have a real reason to say no, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to say yes, either. He cleared his throat. “Elsa’s busy?”

She forced out a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that Elsa wants to spend her day off with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned. 

Any hope she had quickly melted away and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s okay, I get it. I can go by myself, I guess.”

She moved to stand up, and acting on an impulse, he grabbed her hand, knowing that he may come to regret it. “Wait!”

She turned to face him. “What?”

“If it’s really that important to you, then I’ll go with you.”

She hardly gave him a chance to finish before she was throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Kristoff!”

He awkwardly patted her back. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled away suddenly. “Oh crap, I forgot my phone charger at home! I’m just going to go grab it and I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded, and she smiled before rushing out of the house. 

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

He wasn’t sure what time she had snuck out of his bed that morning, but she was gone when he woke up just after ten. She hardly ever woke up before him, and it was even more unusual for her to have left at all. He rubbed at his eyes a few times before reaching for his phone, and sure enough, she had sent him a text explaining her whereabouts. She was right next door, in her own house, getting ready for their excursion. He sighed, knowing that she must have been extremely excited to have gotten up so early when they weren’t even leaving for several more hours. 

So, he climbed out of bed, aware of the fact that for the first Saturday in a long time, Anna wasn’t with him. He had grown used to their sleepy weekend mornings together, half-dressed and sitting at his kitchen table with plates of pancakes in front of them. Without her there, he followed his weekday routine; he ate, showered and got dressed, keeping it casual with jeans and a black t-shirt layered under a red flannel. And then, he waited. 

When the time had finally come, he went out and stood by her car, hoping that she’d be out soon. His jaw nearly dropped when she finally did. Clad in a grey v-neck sweater and light wash skinny jeans, she paired the outfit with ankle boots. Her hair was half-up, half-down and softly curled. 

“Hey,” she smiled when she saw him waiting. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready. You look great, by the way.”

“So do you, I really like that flannel. You should wear red more often.”

“Thanks,” he blushed, looking down at his shirt. “Aren’t you worried about getting dirty though? We’re going to be walking around in the dirt.”

She laughed. “I don’t plan on rolling around in the dirt.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to ruin your shoes or something.”

“It’ll be fine,” she assured him, before unlocking the car doors and tossing her purse in the backseat. “Climb in.”

He did as he was told, sliding into the passenger seat. 

“This is kind of a rare occurrence, huh? Me driving you somewhere,” she observed aloud as she started the engine. She crossed the seatbelt over her lap and glanced over at him. 

He shrugged. “I like driving.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my chauffeur. I should drive you around more,” she remarked. “Which would mean that we’d have to go out more.”

He shook his head. “I don’t...we shouldn’t -“

“Oh god, do you think I’m a bad driver?”

“What? No!”

“I swear, I’ve only gotten one speeding ticket in my entire life and I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“Anna, your driving is fine. I was just going to say that you don’t have to worry about driving me around because we shouldn’t really be going places together.”

“Okay then,” she responded, noticeably taken aback. “May I ask why you think that?”

“It just seems like a bad idea.”

“So going to dinner after this is out of the question?”

“We could order takeout,” he suggested. “Or I can cook for you.”

She muttered something inaudible and for a few miles they sat quietly, listening to the radio. He stared out the window and admired the fall foliage, hoping that the day would go by smoothly. 

Anna finally spoke up when they were about a mile from the orchard. “So, I want to get enough apples to bake a pie -”

He snorted. “You? Bake a pie?”

“Yeah,” she answered confidently. “I know I’m not great in the kitchen but I’ve never made an apple pie before and I want to try. I could really use your help.”

He glared at her. “Do I look like I’ve made an apple pie before?”

“No, but you’re more competent in the kitchen than I am.”

“Cooking is straightforward. Baking is precise. You mis-measure one ingredient and the entire thing is ruined,” he explained. “That’s why whenever you mention wanting dessert, I always go to the store and buy it.”

“I know the grocery store sells pre-made pie crusts. We can stop there after the orchard, and then that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“I did a little research about the orchard that we’re going to and they sell pies in their store,” he pointed out. “You can save yourself the stress and just buy one.”

“But what’s the fun in that?”

“I guess that’s why we’re going to a farm to buy apples and not to the grocery store,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“This is what people do in October. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, corn mazes. It’s fun!”

“They do that stuff to get likes on the Internet, too.”

She didn’t answer, but simply pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to take pictures of you for Instagram?”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you stop at a Starbucks and get a pumpkin spice latte to pose with while you’re at it?”

“Rude.”

“It’s what people do in October,” he said, mimicking her sentiment from moments ago.

“Stop criticizing fall, it’s my favorite season. And I’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte, so ha,” she said, before sticking her tongue out at him. 

“I’m not criticizing fall. I’m criticizing what people do in fall.”

“As we’re pulling into the parking lot of an apple orchard, to pick apples.”

“Your idea, not mine,” he reminded her. 

“You agreed to come, mister.”

“Because you need someone to grab the hard to reach apples for you. Remember?”

She shook her head, though a knowing smile spread across her face. “Can you at least try to have fun?”

“No promises,” he answered, a small smile of his own appearing.

The lot was packed with cars, but she was able to find an empty spot with ease. They climbed out of the car, and walked toward the picking area. The attendant at the entrance handed Anna a basket, provided some instructions for them to follow, and told them that the apples would be weighed for purchase when they finished their walk-through. 

When they finally entered the picking area, Anna spoke up. “What should we do first? Apples or pictures?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

“Apples first, then.”

There were kids and families everywhere, running from tree to tree, snapping pictures, and chattering away. They walked side-by-side along the center path, trying to avoid bumping into the other people. After walking a few feet, her fingertips brushed against his and he bit down on his lip, trying as hard as he could to ignore it. She moved to take his hand in her own, but he gently pulled away and took a step to the side to create a bit of distance between them.

“Do you not want to hold my hand?” she laughed.

“Oh, um,” he started, looking down at his palm before offering it to her. “I do.”

She accepted with a smile, and laced her soft fingers through his. “This is really nice, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Apple picking is a seasonal thing,” he remarked, trying to deflect. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she giggled. “I meant we should go out more in general.”

“Hey, this tree has a lot of apples.” He pulled her toward it, hoping that it would distract her. He dropped her hand and motioned to the tree. “Pick away.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

She handed him the basket, and reached for an apple that was hanging near her head. “Yeah, you are. Is something bothering you?”

“No,” he lied. She gently placed the apple in the basket before trying to take it back from him. “Only one apple?”

“This place is huge, we don’t have to get all of our apples from this one tree.”

“I’ll carry the basket for you,” he insisted, hoping that it would prevent her from noticing that they weren’t holding hands anymore. It didn’t work.

“Can you hold it in your other hand? Or should I just walk on the other side?”

“I’ll hold it in my other hand.” He transferred the basket and she immediately took his hand again.

They walked for a while, occasionally stopping at trees and picking a few apples before repeating the same routine. When they were approaching the last section of trees before the weighing station, Anna paused. 

“Since we’re almost done and there aren’t that many people over here, we should stop for a few pictures now,” she said, dropping his hand and digging through her bag. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

She dug out her phone and handed it to him, dropping her purse by his feet and taking a few steps towards the trees. He placed the basket down next to it before opening up the camera app on her phone.

There was no simple way to describe how beautiful she looked as she posed for the camera; between the sunlight that was bouncing off of her hair and the radiant smile that was spread across her face, she was absolutely ethereal. He was so entranced, that he hardly noticed that she was moving toward him and continued snapping pictures until she was much closer than before.

“Can I see how they came out?” she asked, holding her hand out. He placed the phone in her hand and she swiped through them. “They came out great! You’re a pretty good photographer.”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

She slid her phone into her back pocket and then held out her hand again. “Give me your phone, I’ll take a few pictures of you.”

“I don’t need any pictures of myself.”

“You can post it to your Instagram!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve only posted to Instagram, like, three times. I hardly use it.”

“It’s never too late. Don’t you want your friends to see what you were up to this weekend?”

“Not really. I don’t have a million friends to impress.”

“I don’t have a million friends and I’m not trying to impress anyone,” she scoffed. “I just think that it would be nice.”

“Which is why I took pictures of you for your Instagram. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She opened her mouth to argue back, but was interrupted when a woman approached them. “Hey, would you mind taking a few pictures of my boyfriend and I?”

“Of course!” Anna answered, accepting the phone from her.

The couple posed and Anna snapped a few photos before handing the phone back.

The woman looked through the pictures. “Thank you so much, they look really good. Do you want me to take a couple for you guys?”

Before he could say no, Anna was handing her phone to the woman. She grabbed his arm and dragged him back a few steps. Before he knew it, she was pressed into his side, her arm wrapped tightly around his lower back. He was unsure what to do with his own arms, and at the last minute, he draped his arm around her shoulders. He was positive that the pictures would perfectly encapsulate the tension he was feeling in his face, but he did his best to smile. After what felt like an eternity, the woman handed the phone back to Anna. 

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” she said to the woman, who smiled in return.

“Please don’t put those on the Internet,” he begged once the couple had wandered away.

“Why? You look great,” she said, holding the phone out to him. He took a quick look, and just as he expected, they looked way too couple-y for her to casually post it online.

“Just...don’t.”

“But we look so adorable! I want all of my friends to see it.”

“You’re probably better off just posting the pictures of you alone,” he insisted. “Your friends may get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

“You know, they may make assumptions.”

She looked up from her phone, and stared directly into his eyes. “What assumptions do you think they’ll make?”

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to look away from her.

“I need a legitimate reason for not posting this picture,” she insisted. “Tell me, what assumptions do you think my friends will make?”

He hesitated, thinking of how to properly phrase the thoughts running through his mind. “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple when we’re not. It’s weird and embarrassing.”

“We’re not a couple?” she asked incredulously, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. 

He was suddenly questioning everything he was certain of a mere moment ago. “Are we?”

“I assumed we were! We’re always together, and you know all of my secrets, and not to be too candid in a public place but we have a physical relationship - oh god, have I been reading this wrong? Are we just friends with benefits? Is that why you didn’t want to hold my hand? Are you, like, embarrassed of me?” She blinked a few times, not taking her eyes off of his.

“No!” he exclaimed loudly, causing a few people to turn around and stare in their direction. Grotesquely aware of the fact that people were paying attention, he continued in a hushed voice, “I didn’t think you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” she squawked, raising a shaky hand to her chest.

He could feel his world crumbling around him. “I’m me and you’re...you. You’re amazing and gorgeous and funny and I’m a boring, grumpy homebody.”

“You’re so much more than that; you’re kind and caring and respectful.”

He took a breath, trying to hold it together. “I don’t think I’m as great as you think I am.”

“I’m in love with you, Kristoff,” she confessed suddenly, the words tumbling out of her mouth with little regard as to how they’d be received. “I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, but you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I need you to know that.”

Though the revelation had hit him like a ton of bricks, for the first time ever, he felt at ease with his own feelings. “I love you, too.”

“You do? You aren’t just saying that because I said it?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean it. I’ve felt this way for a long time but I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything, too busy convincing myself that you’d be better off with someone else.”

She was in his arms, then, squeezing as tightly as she could, her cheek smashed up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. “You silly, silly boy, we have got to work on this self-deprecating attitude of yours. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I���m sorry,” he grimaced, biting down on his lip.

“And for the record, I don’t think that I’d be better off with anyone else.”

He nodded against her instead of answering.

“I would kiss you but people are staring at us,” she said, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him but still keeping her arms firmly around his waist. “We should get out of here.”

“Good idea.”

“Can I please take you out to dinner tonight? I know you don’t -”

The smile on his face was enough for her to stop speaking mid-sentence. “That would be great.”

She heaved a sigh of relief, finally letting go of him so she could grab her purse and the basket. They walked hand-in-hand to the weighing station, where she bagged and paid for the apples they’d picked before walking back to the parking lot.

“Thank you for convincing me to come today, Anna,” he said as they walked to the car. “I’m really glad that I came.”

“I’m really glad that you came, too. And I’m glad that we were able to clear up that misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that. I spent a long time convincing myself that there was no possible way that you’d want to be with me, and it became believable.”

“I wouldn’t spend every single day with you if I didn’t want to be with you,” she assured him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“I’ve lived on our street for my entire life, and tons of people have come and gone, obviously. I can faithfully say that I have only ever welcomed one person to the neighborhood, and that was you.”

“Really? Why?”

She smirked. “I needed an excuse to talk to the cute boy who was moving in next door.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm up. 

“I haven’t stopped bothering you since,” she said, matter-of-factly. 

They climbed back into her car, and buckled their seatbelts before she started the ignition.

“And by the way, you should check Instagram,” she remarked, as she started to back out of the spot.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and launched the app. He had a few notifications, but the most recent one led him to a post that he’d been tagged in. Anna had posted the picture of the two of them with the caption: “All the apples in the orchard, and I’d pick him every time.”

He smiled to himself before liking the picture. “Would you mind sending me the pictures we took? I want my friends to see them.”

[zekroudon]

Dinner with the in-laws

Adrien's first dinner with Marinette's parents since they officially got together. A lot of puns ensues. As usual, you can read it on Ao3 here.

This was the fic I wrote for my application for the Totographs zine, but I didn't get picked, but I'm proud of myself for applying! Once again, beware, lots of puns ahead. 

P.S. I won't be writing fanfics during November since I'm attempting Nanowrimo for the first time! It might not have been the best idea since I still have my classes, but I'll manage.

Edit: Thanks @komorebirei for beta-ing and their insightful tips.

   As Adrien stands in front of the door to Marinette’s home, the bouquet he got for her feels heavy and useless. He has already given so many roses to her, but they feel meaningless compared to how grateful he is to still have her in his life. Her parents must know how amazing she is — they’ll be disappointed…

   He’s hit by flashbacks to the events that led to Tom being akumatized into Weredad. Coming to the bakery after a lonely breakfast. The grey gloomy sky. The awkward kissing Marinette on the cheeks. The pink rose. Admitting he loved Ladybug, Ladybug and not Marinette, an irony Plagg kept teasing him about now that he was fully aware of her identity. Marinette being too good of an actress at being hurt. The enormous tower of vines with the angry beast on top protecting his princess. Ladybug only appearing at the end when everything was crumbling…

   Even though Nino assured him it was casual enough, yet fancy, and that Marinette would like it—a light green buttoned shirt, with only the top two buttons undone, and dark jeans—Adrien feels like he’s underdressed. Plagg phases through his shirt and looks him in the eyes.

“Just press the doorbell! I’m starving and I can’t wait to see Sugarcube!”

“Plagg, what if I mess up again? What if they hate me?”

   Adrien starts fidgeting with the bouquet in his hands. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants.

“How could they hate you? I’m pretty sure Pigtails couldn’t hate you.”

“But, what if…”

   The kwami presses the doorbell and returns to his warm pocket while dread fills Adrien. He hears the steps creak lightly as someone comes down to open the door. Is it Tom? No probably not—he’s heavier and the steps would creak more. Maybe Sabine? She can also be very scary when she wants to…

   The door opens and relief floods his body at the sight of his lady, princess, and girlfriend. Marinette is wearing a pink dress with a black jacket. He didn’t fail to notice the small cat paws and the kitty she embroidered on the jacket. The dress is fairly simple to the casual eye, but having been raised in the fashion industry for so long, he recognizes all the hard work she put into the hems and her trademark flower motif. Her black hair, free from the usual pigtails, cascades in waves over her right shoulder.  

“You look… beautiful,” are the only words that escape his lips.

“Thank you, you look great too!”

“So… These are for you!” he says, extending the flowers to her.

“Thank you! They’re pretty...” She leans her head into the bouquet, smelling its perfume. “They smell amazing too! Let’s go upstairs so I can put them in some water.”

   Adrien follows her as they enter the apartment over the bakery. Delicious scents hit him as they step inside. Except for the usual sweets from the bakery, he can smell a plethora of aromas he is not familiar with. An overly excited Tom practically bounces to him, followed by Sabine, who looks more calm and composed. Adrien swears the man is about to burst from how much he is shaking and buzzing with energy. He kisses Sabine’s cheek and extends his hand to shake Tom’s, who gladly accepts.

“Welcome, Adrien, we’re glad you could make it! We could not wait to meet the young man that stole our little daughter’s heart.”

“The pleasure’s all mine! Thank you for having me for dinner.”

   Once Tom let go of his hand, it instinctively went to rub the back of his neck, his usual tic when he’s nervous. Fear fills him as the man’s eyes grow big like saucers when a ray of light hits his ring, making it shine a little. Does he recognize him as Chat Noir? Marinette looks at him, unsure of what to make of her father’s reaction.

   He then turns and picks up Sabine. He whirls her before doing a pirouette himself.

“Our little daughter is engaged! She proposed to Adrien! We need to prepare the wedding cake, it’ll be the best Paris has ever seen!”

“Tom, dear…” Sabine says, trying to bring back her husband to Earth, with no success.

“What?” is the only word that escapes Adrien’s mouth.

   “Is it another case of Oblivio?” Adrien asks himself. ”Last time I checked, we were only dating…” He realizes at the same time as Marinette what gave Tom the idea, but she’s quicker to react. He thought that Adrien’s miraculous was an engagement ring. Though, it’s not on the correct hand…

“We’re not engaged, Papa!!” shouts Marinette, calming her father. “The ring’s, um…”

“It was from my mother, it’s not a wedding ring. Not that I would mind being engaged to Marinette, she’s amazing and any guy or girl would be crazy to turn her down. I mean, I’d gladly propose to her, but I don’t want to go too fast and I’d rather have your blessing before…”

   He is stopped by a hand on his arm. Sabine looks up sweetly at him, just like she did with Chat Noir all those years ago.

“It’s okay, dear, we know you love our daughter very much—it’s obvious in your eyes. Tom just tends to get ahead of things. That poor Chat Noir, I hope he wasn’t too traumatized.”

“I don’t think he is…” Adrien shyly replies.

   Since he arrived a bit early, Adrien offers to help make dinner. Considering his lack of ability in the kitchen, he gets vegetable duty, since it’s pretty straightforward and he won’t risk ruining the meal with a beginner’s mistake by putting in too much spice or causing a fire.

“You know, I can’t believe no one ever taught you to cook—but at the same time, knowing your father, it does make sense.”

“Yeah, I  carrot  believe it either. I guess he expected me to  stew  in the mansion and have a cook for my entire life.”

“Even for you, that was pretty bad,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Finish slicing them, it’s nearly ready...”

“I don’t know about that, young lady—there’s always  thyme  for puns,” replies Tom with a smirk, a fire lit in his eyes. “Once you’re done Adrien, I’ll  knead  some fruits for dessert

“Of course! Would you help me,  gourdgeous  princess? We make the perfect  pear , after all.”

“I think you’ll be  apple  to do it yourself, my prince.”

“Ah, you leave me  floured  ! You know I only have  pies  for you.”

“You’re such a weirdo…”

“Maybe, but I’m your  weirdough  and you  loaf  me.”

“See, Sabine, they were  baked  for each other. I’m sure  muffin  could break them apart.”

   A little bit later, once they are all sitting at the table, plates set and food served.

“This is so delicious! I don’t think my chef has ever made me something this good!”

“I doubt your chef would have cooked this—it’s not really suited for a model’s diet,” Sabine says. “But thank you. I could show you some recipes if you want.”

“I’d love that, Mrs. Cheng! Well, I’m  bacon  track now, I’m no longer following a diet as strict as before: no more drumsticks and crumbs.  Dough , I have to admit that I would have been  toasted  if my father had found me eating a meal like this.”

“You can call us Sabine and Tom, dear, no need to be so formal.”

“I’m glad to hear that! You sure could add more meat to those bones of yours,” Tom adds jokingly.

“The  yeast  he could have done was to let you see your friends more often,” Marinette replies drily.

“It’s okay, it’s all behind us now. The  bread  of akumas, the  pain …” He adds, giving Marinette a slice of bread. She shakes her head, but still takes it.

“Doughnut  worry, son, you’ll always be welcome here. I could show you the ropes of a baker’s job! I  croissant  your talent.”

   The rest of the main meal goes well—more puns, talking about their future and hopes. Adrien loved the fact that Tom and Sabine didn’t expect him to follow in his father’s footsteps and take the reins of Gabriel, unlike almost everyone else in his life. Instead, they encouraged him when he said that he would need some time to figure out what he really wants to do with his life, to forge his own path.

   As Marinette ices the cake, Adrien finishes slicing the fruits and placing them. His fingers are all sticky and stained from the juices, but he’s the happiest he’s ever been. He feels like he’s part of a family, in a house filled with love, warmth, and fun. He dips his finger in some cream that has fallen from Marinette’s pouch. She’s fully focussed on the task at hand, just like when she was figuring out an especially complicated lucky charm in a face-off with a strong akuma. He gets an idea. It’s a bit mischievous, but a good one.

   Smirking, he carefully sneaks behind her, channeling his inner Chat Noir. Once he’s close enough, he pokes her nose with his cream coated finger. She jerks back into his arms and squeezes the icing bag, making it explode. Their faces and clothes are covered with icing.

“Ch-Adrien!”

“See, m’ lady, I always told you that you’re  la crème de la crème  . Getting my miraculous was an  ameowzing  day in my life, but meeting you was the  icing on the cake ,” he whispers in her ear.

“Shh! They’ll hear you!”

   Her scolding expression lingers for a bit longer, but she soon bursts out laughing.

“I can’t believe you! All this for puns?”

“I felt like I needed to remind my girlfriend of how amazing she is...”

   Tom and Sabine turn the corner to the kitchen, taking in the mess the two made.

“What are you two  loafing  about… Oh, that’s quite the mess, isn’t it?” Tom asks, stopping in his tracks.

“Go change into your pyjamas, I’ll finish icing the cake in the meantime,”Sabine sweetly adds, opening the fridge to get more icing.

   As they walk past the counter to go change, Marinette picks a cherry and perches it on Adrien’s nose.

“You don’t need to remind me, Adrien, I’ll always  cherrysh  the  koalaty  time I get to spend with you.”

[therealcalicali]

Apple Thief

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and even more Angst

Type: One Shot

Wordcount: 7,003

“Y/N! You need not go.” Your ailing father called out from where he was sat by the fireplace. Though you lived in a cramped quarter, the main room was always the warmest. And due to his injury, keeping his temperature up was best. “From the looks of things, a storm is brewing. Did you hear me, Buttons?”

With a smirk you threw his cowhide overcoat atop your woolen pullover. It wasn’t as nice as the fur-lined cloaks most girls wore. But it kept you warm despite being unfashionable. After grabbing your gloves, you bounded into the main room. Peering out the window, you realized the skies were indeed overcast.

However, you couldn’t stay home.

Rain or otherwise, you had to earn some coin. Especially since the sum your Uncle left was depleted. He had given all he could before leaving for a nearby town to sell his wares. And since you had no inclination of when he would return, you had to be resourceful.

“Just look at you, Buttons….” Your father exclaimed as he did his best not to chuckle. “You look like someone cast a shrinking spell upon you.”

“The coat may be ill-fitting, but it’s warm. So, if you keep taunting me, I might never give it back.”

“Please, stay.” He said as his smile began to fade. He then pointed his walking stick in your direction. “As my only child, I have no desire to see you fall ill.”

“Papa, I cannot sit around hoping Uncle is on his way back. He is far off, and your medicines are finished. And what’s more, we are in need of foodstuffs.”

“We are not.” Your father countered. “What of the red yams and potatoes? We can get by cooking them with cabbage and carrots.”

“First off, we have two red yams and no potatoes. And as for cabbage and carrots, I used the last of them in last night’s stew. So, like it or not, I must venture out.”

“It’s times like these I wish we still had our chickens. The eggs would bring in good coin.”

“Don’t fret, Papa. I’ve been saving what Uncle gives me for my upkeep. I intend to buy at least four of them. Soon, we could even own a nice milking cow again.”

Your father’s gaze went to fireplace.

He was a proud man, and it truly hurt your soul to see him dejected. But it made sense for a former Kings’ Guard to feel inadequate. At one time, your father provided a very posh lifestyle for the family. But once he was maimed in battle, he was forcibly discharged with a paltry severance. Once that was spent, your father had no choice but to start using what had been saved.

As expected, hardship followed. So much in fact, your mother decided to abscond with the little coin that was left. That was nearly three years prior. But for you, the betrayal felt like it had occurred only yesterday.

“Papa, please do not guilt me going outdoors.” You said, walking to him and taking a knee. “If I promise to come home should the weather should take a turn, would that ease your mind?”

Reluctantly, your father nodded.

“And take my dagger.” He said, pointing to the table nearest the front door. The weapon was a magnificent piece of military craftsmanship. Something only most decorated of fighters were ever bestowed. Still, your father wanted you to have it. “From now on, it is yours.”

“But Papa, that is a relic of your service. You earned it with much blood and sweat. I cannot possibly think of wielding it. Besides, it’s far too valuable to be taken out of the house.”

“Y/N, the only thing of value that I have, is you.”

You couldn’t help smiling. After sheathing the dagger, you informed your father that you would soon return. As you exited the cottage and approached the stables, you were suddenly filled with great hope.

You made your way to the town square on the back of your Uncle’s trusty steed, Moss.

Being a thoughtful man, Gadin left town in a hired wagon so you would have transport. So, as you tied the horse to a wooden post, you gave him a soothing pat.

“Have no fear, boy. We shall not stay for long.” You said before reaching into your leather satchel. After grabbing a handful of apple slices and oats, you fed Moss. “Well, things are really bustling today. No doubt I will make some coin.”

And you had good reason for being confident. Aside from the handmade gloves you made, you intended to sell some jewelry. The silver necklace and earrings had been intended for your mother on her Naming Day. But since she abandoned the family prior to him surprising her, your father passed them to you.

When Moss suddenly whinnied and stomped his hooves, you grabbed hold of his bit.

With that, you turned on your heels and began walking toward the marketplace. 

Trade was truly flourishing because you had never seen so many foreigners in Stillwell before. But it was a good sign. It meant that soon, there would be expansions and all the other benefits that came with being a thriving village.

“Move your corpse, jackass!” A gruff voice bellowed.

When you turned to see who had spoken so rudely, a grey-haired elderly man pushed past. He was in such a huff, he nearly knocked you over. It was enough to make one angry had it not been so amusing. 

Because though he appeared exceptionally frail; the man hauled his cartful of wares with the strength of twenty men.

“Magic.” You mused. “Everyone that wields it or buys it, is a nuisance.”

Suddenly, something else caught your attention. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a foreboding man cloaked in black. Naturally, this piqued your curiosity. From what you could assess; the armor signified his status as a formidable warrior. Likely a mercenary or something along those lines.

You knew this because the symbol that hung from the stranger’s neck didn’t appear to belong to any King.

When you noticed the tufts of white hair peaking from his hood, you promptly realized he was no mere mortal. Mostly because such a hue was not be found amongst your kind. As he walked, the stranger behaved as if he didn’t wish to be amongst people. But despite this, he had a traveling companion. A pleasant looking fellow who seemed to be relaying information in a lively fashion.

“Those two cannot be from any of the nearby townships.” You mused. “Perhaps they hail from some of the wealthier domains.”

Realizing that you were getting distracted, you returned your thoughts to selling your wares. 

As luck would have it, your devotion to Ryrdohr, the God of Wonders, paid off.

Not only did you manage to unload your mother’s earring and necklace, but the silver merchant gave a fair price. Mainly, at the behest of his partner. As you were haggling, the man had taken one look before exclaiming that you reminded him of his late niece. For that reason, he forced his miserly friend to cough up more coin.

What you received, eighty Denars, was equal to a month and a half worth of wages. Thus, you were feeling quite blessed as you walked down the pathway toward The Bargainers Lot. It was where people that didn’t own traditional stands or storefronts conducted business.

As you passed a barrel-lined walkway, you heard a faint whistle. There, stood only yards away, a shabbily dressed boy, no older than twelve beckoned.

“Lass, might you have any food to spare?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder before looking at you again.

“Do not take me for a heartless person, little boy. But why ask such a thing whilst standing in an alleyway?”

“Apologies…….” He said as he rubbed his hands together. “But I must take care. I do not want the Sentries to see me begging. They are quite rough with street children these days.

Your father was right. It did appear that a storm would soon come. For that reason, you wished to give the child something. Enough to buy some food and even bestowing a pair of the gloves you intended to sell. 

However, you had no desire to enter the alleyway to do so. After all, nothing good ever came of venturing into secluded places.

“If you want food..…..” You said, reaching to your coat pocket and producing eight Fenning. It was coin to buy two meat pies and some peach ale. But the boy needed it far more than you. “I am willing to be of help. But you must come here and------”

The first shove cut you off midsentence. But the second swiftly knocked you to the ground.

Before you grasped what was occurring, you were set upon by three other children. As you struggled to unsheathe your dagger, one kicked you in the shoulder as another seized your satchel. Infuriated, you quickly realized that you had to fight back or risk losing everything.

“I am being set upon by bandits!” You screamed. “Help!”

You had expected your words to bring someone to your aid. But after a few seconds, you realized it was for naught. In Stillwell, as in most townships, people preferred to keep to their own affairs. That meant unless a Sentry happened upon the attack, you were on your own.

When you rolled onto your back, you managed to break the buttons on your coat. With shaking hand, you finally unsheathed your father’s dagger. Taking note of this, the three children stared, wide-eyed.

“Now, you little monsters! Return my belongings before I cut your throats.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!”  A raspy voice countered.

Peering into the alleyway, you spotted the owner. A man with a crescent moon upon his left cheek was now stood next to the boy that had beckoned you. Only a foot away, a fiery-haired woman aimed an arrow in your direction.

“Let’s kill her and be done with it.” She suggested.

Mercifully, he didn’t seem eager to comply. After pondering a moment, he motioned for one of the children to take your dagger. Alarmed at losing your father’s prized weapon, you pointed it menacingly.

“If you prefer, we can kill you and take it, all the same.” The man threatened.

From his tone, it was apparent that he was not simply mincing words. 

He spoke very much like an experienced butcher. Still, you could not compel yourself to hand the dagger over. As the three children stared wearily, awaiting their next directives, everything suddenly went black. 

“Aye, she finally returns to the living.” An amused voice announced.

As your vision adjusted to the light of day again, you winced. For whatever reason, a dull pain within your head became more prominent. Indeed, even looking at your surroundings proved difficult. Still, you managed to lift yourself off the bench and sit upright.

Since the pressure seemed to be concentrated at the base of your neck, you attempted to feel it. However, a hand swiftly caught you by the wrist.

“Do not go touching the wound, jackass.” The old man commanded. “You’ll only smear the Black Mares ointment that’s been applied.”

“Wha…………………where did those children go?”

“What children?”

It was then you realized whom you were speaking to. The old man tending you was the very same one that had nearly bowled you over. For whatever reason, he was the only person that came to your rescue.

“Sir, did you happen to see which direction those bandits went in?”

“I do not know what you speak of. But here is your eight Fenning.” He replied, shoving the coin in your palm. “It was scattered about your person when I found you.”

“But what of my satchel? Those people took everything!” You exclaimed as all that had occurred came to memory. “I must find a Sentry.”

The old man cackled as if you had said the silliest thing in the world. After stating that the Sentries did their job well, he added that they only did so for the affluent. However, someone of your caliber would have to pass coin to their hands.

“And from the looks of it Lass, you hardly have enough to sway them.”

After securing the kerchief to your head, he practically jumped his feet. You could only stare in astonishment as he then took hold of his loaded cart.

“But sir…………I have not even properly thanked you.” You said, scooting forward on the bench. “At least take this, for your trouble.”

The man eyed the four Fenning in your hand before sneering. With a gruff tone, he advised that you keep it. Adding that he did not assist you because he lacked the means to care for himself. Apologetic for offending him, you stated that you had not intended imply such a thing. Nevertheless, he had already begun walking away.

He moved so swiftly, you could only shout words of gratitude as he disappeared into the crowd. 

As you entered the small shop marked ‘The Long Caravan’, you pulled your coat closer to your body.

The light rain had already begun. Thus, you knew you only had a short time before the full gale set in. Though you had been robbed, you simply couldn’t go home empty handed. Especially without your father’s necessary medicines. So, if nothing else, you meant to buy the herbs.

“I accept no beggars in my establishment.” The snobby shopkeeper announced upon seeing you. “The soup house is down the road by the Great Sawmill.”

Incensed at the insinuation, you glared at her.

She then snapped her fingers at her young assistants, ordering them to set down two massive bags. One marked ‘corn’ and the other, ‘oats’. And that’s when you saw him by the Alchemy portion of the shop. The massive stranger clad in black. Even now, he appeared disinterested in his surroundings.

This was quite peculiar since he was apparently making purchases. But as for his companion, he was gingerly conversing with the shopkeeper’s husband.

“I said, no beggars!” She said once more.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not one!” You fumed, tired of her relentless assumptions. “I’ll have you know I’m here to purchase medicines. Or do you no longer take coin?”

Distracted by your words, the more jovial of the strangers stopped chatting.

He then leaned against a banister and folded his arms over his chest. Pardoning herself from the cloaked stranger, the woman sized you up before asking what you required.

“Four packets of Pearl Moss, two packets of Lakebarberry Leaves and four packets of Sour Quassia”

Despite wearing a spiteful expression, the shopkeeper went behind the counter. She then began measuring things out as you glanced around the shop. It was then you noticed the sizeable fruit display. From dragon pears to apples, there was good variety available.

“I’m so famished. I hope there is something left over.” You thought, pulling the eight Fenning from your pocket.

When you realized you were being watch, your head jerked in the direction of the white-haired man. At first, he appeared to be looking directly at you. But as you studied his expression, it became clear that he was looking past you.

Taking notice of his fascination, the shopkeeper’s husband went to him. He then began explaining that they had purchased the mounted head on the wall from a passing tradesman. As always, the stranger remained quiet. But suddenly, he actually glanced at you for the first time.

“Demon eyes.” You thought. “He is no mortal. Of that, there is no doubt.”

“That will be twenty Fenning.” The shopkeeper announced. “And do not dawdle, girl. I have other customers.”

You sighed. Apparently, the cost of herbs had gone up significantly since the last time. Placing all you had upon the counter, you eyed the woman.

“I……………I only have eight. However, look at these gloves I’m wearing. I made them myself. Pure cowhide with rabbit fur lining. Surely, they are worth the remainder.”

“Does this look like the trade-in post?” She snapped. “Either you have the coin, or you don’t.”

With tense jaw, you asked that she remove two satchels of Pearl Moss since it was the most expensive. But unexpectedly, the nicer of the two strangers walked over. After asking the woman to wait a moment, he looked at your hands.

“I know a lady that would really fancy those.” He said with a smile that reached his eyes. “I’m Jaskier, by the way. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

Though your day had been nothing but terrible, you couldn’t help giving a smile in return.

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking his hand.

You then removed the smartly made gloves and set them down. When you asked if he was truly serious, Jaskier nodded firmly. After placing twenty Fenning on the counter, he took possession of his wares.

“I now have my gloves, and you, have your coin,”

Utterly beside yourself, you couldn’t help thanking him several times. Truly, he was an answer to your silent prayers. Such a show of kindness not only lifted your spirits but gave you a more optimistic outlook. While the moody shopkeeper finished tying the bundle of herbs with twine, Jaskier informed you he was a Bard.

A renowned and much sought after one, at that.

“You?” You exclaimed in astonishment.

“What’s the matter? Do I not look the part?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that you appear……..………you know….”

“Appear what?”

“To be quite honest. From your style of dress, I swore you were a Lord or something of the sort.”

From nearby, his companion made an odd grunt.

“Pay him no mind.” Jaskier said, looking in his direction. “He isn’t known for his manners.”

“If you take your time, I will leave you.” The cloaked man replied, ignoring the insult.

Though his tone of voice was cold, there was something within it that held some humanity. Perhaps, the Bard was his charge.

“Is that man your Hired Sword?” You asked.

The question sent Jaskier into a fit of laughter. However, his companion was not amused. In fact, he appeared meaner than he had been already. Leaving your side, Jaskier went to the shopkeeper’s husband and pointed to the waterskins.

It was then the woman finally handed you the satchel of herbs. 

As you walked to the middle of the shop, you realized it was now raining quite hard. Not wanting to get your purchase wet, you opened your coat and pushed the satchels into the inner breast pocket. After closing the flap, you were buttoning your coat when the apples caught your eye.

Though you had eight Fenning left, thanks to Jaskier, you had not desire to spend it. So, as the storeowners busied themselves with their wealthier patrons, you began slipping a few into your coat. But as you finished taking the sixth and last one, the woman swiftly rushed over.

“Thief!” She shrieked, grabbing hold of your coat immediately. “I knew you were trouble from the moment you set foot in here!”

Though you were caught, you wished to turn the items over yourself. However, the shopkeeper refused to let go.

“I’m no thief!” You protested. “At least…………………….not really.”

“Not a thief, she says! Well, we shall see about that.” The woman mocked, holding your coat more firmly.

She then began shaking the fabric until the apples started coming lose. One by one, they soon dropped to the ground at your feet.

“Hmm. The girl is either an apple tree, or a thief.” Geralt remarked.

He then picked up the bags of corn and oats and hoisted them over his shoulder. As he walked to the exit of the shop, Jaskier stared at you and the shopkeeper. From his expression, you could see he felt your humiliation.

Thus, you averted your gaze.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled as he departed into the busy street. Though it was now raining, he made no attempt to seek cover. “Geralt! We cannot leave that poor girl to that woman. She will likely report her to the Sentries.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, the laws against theft in Stillwell are harsher than in most townships. And she appears quite sweet……….……………. but desperate.”

Geralt scoffed as he kept to his path.

Nevertheless, Jaskier refused to give in. As he tried to keep pace, he confessed that he felt compelled to help. And if he had to convince the storekeeper and her husband alone, he would return to the shop.

“Then, go.” Geralt replied. “But remember, I will not wait long.” 

“I swear, Madame, it was not my intention to take from you.” You said apologetically. “I had a great deal of coin a short time ago. However, I was robbed of it, and the rest of possessions. It’s the only reason I didn’t wish to spend the little I have left. That’s the truth of the matter.”

“Do not give me your sad tales.” The shopkeeper snapped. “When the Sentinels come, you may tell it to them, if you like.”

Just as you were about to drop to your knees and beg her mercy, Jaskier returned. With damp hair, he walked over and looked the woman straight in the eye.

“Allow me to pay for the value of the apples, plus a little extra for compensation.” He said. “Surely, that ought to be enough to allow the girl to leave peaceably.”

It sounded like a reasonable solution. But to his astonishment, the woman refused. After stating she was tired of your “type”, she added that you had to be an example.

“I cannot have every thieving liar thinking my shop is a free market. She must be turned over to the Sentinels.”

“Madame, have mercy.” You implored. “I cannot be away from my father for days on end. He is a cripple. If he is left alone, he could fall ill or even worse.”

Jaskier’s expression went soft. The revelation only made him more determined to be of help. But no matter how much he argued your case, his words fell on deaf ears.

“Natasja.” The shopkeepers husband said as he approached. “The girl seems genuine. Besides, she didn’t take anything of true worth. Only food. It’s obvious that she meant no real harm.”

Despite his attempt to defuse the situation, his wife proved hardheaded. With a hand still grasping your coat, she informed both he and Jaskier that she had already sent one of the shop assistants to fetch a Sentinel.

And thus, the four of you waited.

Whilst the time passed, the shopkeeper’s husband stated he would not give a statement. In fact, he wanted no parts of anything should the lawmen ask anything of him. Still, his wife didn’t seem moved.

“Bastien, if that is what you wish, so be it. But I will make sure this girl is made an example of. I will not become a target for every poverty-stricken bastard.”

“How dare you! I’m no bastard!” You seethed. “My father is an honorable man. He was a King’s Guard in Narin.”

“Ah, King Jethofius.” Jaskier mused with an impressed expression. “It’s said that he only commissions the most-skilled.”

“Most-skilled.” The shopkeeper repeated with a chuckle. “You keep listening to her tales.”

Angered by her flippant attitude, you countered that you spoke the truth. Not just about your father, but about being robbed earlier in the day. But none of that mattered. Because it wasn’t long before two well-armored Sentinels entered the shop.

“That is her.” The young worker said, pointing you out.

With annoyed expressions, the two men walked over. After politely acknowledging everyone, they looked you over.

“Your boy tells us that you caught the thief in the act.” The taller of the Sentinels said. “What did she take.”

“Apples.” Jaskier interacted. “Simple, ordinary apples. Hardly anything to take you from your patrol.”

The shopkeeper cut him a mean glare, however, she added that he was correct. You had stolen apples.

“But I would hardly say it is trivial. A thief, is a thief at the end of the day.”

“Do you wish to have her locked away until you can petition the Justice?”

When the shopkeeper nodded, her husband grumbled. He truly disliked how his wife had forgotten their struggles. There had been times even they came close to stealing. And though they never did so, he understood your plight.

“Let me state this now. I will not participate.” He announced.

Somewhat taken aback, the Sentinels looked between the husband and wife. One then grabbed you by the arm.

“Alright, it’s time to go.”

“Please! There must be something I can do to make things right.” You protested as you looked at the shopkeeper. “I am needed at home!”

“You should have thought about that before you went about nicking things.” The man countered. “Now either you move your legs, or I’ll resort to brute force.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Geralt said in a calm tone.

When you all looked towards the entrance, he was stood there with an annoyed expression. In an unhurried pace, he made his way over. He then scowled at poor Jaskier, who could do nothing but shrug in response.

“Stranger, this is none of your affair.” One of the Sentinels cautioned. “It’s best you keep moving before you are charged with interfering with the law.”

“The girl is my servant.” Geralt said, ignoring everything he had said. He then tossed the shopkeeper’s husband a small black pouch. “That’s nine Denars. Twenty times the value of what she took.”

Angered by the meddling, the shopkeeper declared she wanted justice, not coin. She then informed the Sentinels that Geralt did not speak truthfully. You had come to the shop alone, thus, you were not a servant of either man. But as she continued raving, her husband suddenly placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“Do not take offense, love…” He began. ‘But for once, shut your mouth.”

Ever the jovial one, Jaskier burst into gleeful laughter.

This caused one of the Sentinels to chuckle as well. However, things quickly subsided when Geralt shot both men a severe look. Approaching the lawmen, the shopkeeper’s husband first apologized for wasting their time. He then assured them that the coin was more than enough to resolve the matter.

“It appears there is nothing for you to do here. But gratitudes, all the same.”  He added.

Obviously, the shopkeeper was livid. But as she followed the Sentinels, they ignored her pleas to return.

“So, we may take our leave?” Geralt asked of the husband.

“Aye.” He replied. “The little Lass is free to go.”

“I cannot stay.” You protested as you entered the Blue Raven Tavern with Jaskier and Geralt. “I must begin my journey home!”

As expected, it the place was quite busy due to the storm. As you were guided to a table, the patrons appeared to be mostly traveling merchants, migrants and Mercenaries. All of them in search of a temporary place of shelter until the weather improved.

“Sit.” Geralt gruffly commanded.

Naturally, his tone didn’t sit well with you.

“My Lord, I am no dog!” You protested despite doing as asked. “I’m quite grateful for your show of kindness. And as promised, I intend to repay the coin you parted with. But I must ask that you speak to me like I am a person.”

After staring for a moment, Geralt simply looked away. Frustrated by his odd behavior, you gave Jaskier your attention. Unfortunately, he was too busy staring at the ample breasts of the Tavern maid.

“Look here! Do you intend to ogle me all night or is there something you are in need of?”

“Oh, I am in need of many things.” Jaskier replied cheekily. “But let us start off with a pitcher of Black Mead. And perhaps a platter of rose-honey rolls with fresh churned butter on the side.”

The woman gave a flirtatious smirk before turning to leave. As she walked, Jaskier stared at her equally ample backside.

“You have coin for that?” Geralt asked.

“No, but you do.”

When he took note of your smile, Jaskier stated he had spent most of his coin repairing his lute. He then lifted it for you to see. From the way he spoke of it, you could tell the instrument held great sentimental value.

“It’s simply exquisite.” You remarked. “It makes my Uncle’s own look plain by comparison.”

“Do you play?” Jaskier asked with great excitement.

Reluctantly, you confessed that you did. Adding that music was one of the main sources of entertainment in your household. When you stated that you could play most string instruments, Geralt closed his eyes. Seeing the two of you bonding over your music, made him fear either of you playing a song.

Because after the exploits they had encountered in the last township, he had no desire to hear noise.

“Would you play something?” Jaskier asked, passing you his lute.

You were flattered that he would entrust you with his prized possession. However, you hesitated. Though you knew many songs, you played according to mood. And with how you were feeling, a sorrowful melody was likely to come through.

“Go on, Lass!” A man drunken man shouted from a nearby table. “Help me drown out my talkative companions.”

Carefully, you positioned the lute, finding that your fingers eased about the instrument comfortably. With a deep breath, your eyes shut so you could drown the noise around you. From the pluck of the first note, a sense of peace washed over you. 

You were no longer in a dimly lit, packed Tavern. But rather, sat by the scenic lake nearest your cottage. 

As you played, the commotion in the establishment began to die down. From weary traveler, to the most imposing of Hired Sword, everyone was soon listening to your haunting melody. As for Jaskier, he rested his cheek in hand as he watched.

It wasn’t often he came across someone like you. Not only were you amiable, but you now proved to be quite talented. After setting down the rolls and pitcher of Black Mead, the Tavern Maid observed a while before getting to her work.

She too seemed to prefer music over the usual cursing and threats to take fights outdoors.

When you struck the last chord, you were astounded by the eruption of cheers and mugs hitting the tabletops. Your father and Uncle always complimented your playing. However, you had assumed they only flattered you because they were family.

With a bashful expression, you passed the lute back to Jaskier.

“Y/N, you are quite fascinating.” He remarked. “Not only can you sew beautifully, but you have the makings of a Bard.”

“Though I hardly deserve such praise, I will accept it graciously.”

“Good. Now, how about you start eating while I pour us some mead.”

Naturally, you were still quite famished; however, you didn’t want to make a pig of yourself. So instead of taking several rolls, you took one and began spreading the butter. As you were doing so, you realized Geralt staring at you once again.

“My Lord, is there something on my face?”

Though he appeared irritated by your very voice, he replied that you were bleeding. How he could know such a thing was a mystery. Because, at present time, you were sat across from both he and Jaskier.

When you touched the back of your head, and looked at your palm, Geralt was proven correct. Apparently, the wound had begun to seep.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaimed. “That’s why that fabric is about your head. All this while, I thought it was some new trend.”

“If only.” You replied with a weak smile. “An old man applied ointment to my head before tying this. I only wish I got his name before he disappeared.”

As you removed the kerchief and folded it, Geralt reached inside his cloak. He then produced a small vial and held it towards you.

“Here. Drink this.”

“My Lord, I will do no such thing.” You replied. “First, tell me what it is. Even better, tell me how you knew I was bleeding.”

Despite your words, he said nothing more. Instead, Geralt studied you as if you were an inanimate object.

“My Lord…………”

“For the last time, I am no Lord.”

“Oh, so you CAN put more than five words together.” You jested. “At any rate, since you refuse to tell me how to best address you, I shall keep using the title. My father says it’s best to err on a high position.

Refusing to be drawn into banter, Geralt set the vial on the table.

He then took hold of his mug and got to his feet. When Jaskier asked where he was off to, he nodded towards the door. Despite the storm, it appeared that he was in no mood for company or conversation. As Geralt departed the table, you watched with great curiosity.

“How did he know I was bleeding?” You asked, your gaze following his dominating figure out the Tavern. “Is he part Demon?”

“Demon? Why do you assume such a thing?”

“For one thing, his hair. That alone tells me that he is no mere mortal. But also, his eyes. They seem…………well…………sinister.”

Though he tried, Jaskier burst into laughter. Indeed, he had called Geralt many things whenever they fought. But sinister, was not one of them. Between chuckles, he assured you that his brooding companion was no Demon. In fact, he was one of the few people that stood between such creatures and the innocents.

But from your expression, it appeared you weren’t convinced.

“Why do I get the feeling that you distrust, Geralt?”

“It’s not that, my Lord.” You replied. “However, where I’m from, magic and magical being are not trusted. People are put to death for simply buying magical items.”

“But Stillwell seems quite open-minded.”

“I did not grow up here. I spent most of my life in Narin.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your father was King’s Guard there.” Jaskier remarked, recalling your past conversation. “Tell me, how did you come to reside here?”

Though you stated it was a long tale, he shrugged. Lifting his mug, he reminded you that there was nothing but time. After all, the storm didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Since they had been so kind, you figured it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Thus, you quickly decided to oblige. 

So, as Geralt sat in the enclosed stables, drinking his mead beside Roach and Moss, you shared your life with Jaskier.

“Apple thief.” Geralt exclaimed.

He the grabbed hold of Moss’s bit before rolling his eyes.

Though you had insisted on riding, it was apparent that you were too fatigued. Not only had you fallen asleep twice, but you kept saying things that made little sense. Typically, such a thing wouldn’t be cause for alarm. Especially since your Uncle’s steed followed your companions at a good pace. However, you had also nearly fallen both times.

And since a broken neck would do no one any good, Geralt was becoming irate.

“Y/N, you slept again.” Jaskier remarked as he brought his hired mare alongside. “Either you ride with one of us, or risk having an even worse headwound.”

You yawned as you looked about the forest. Though you had given proper directions, your mind was hazy.

“Are you certain we’re headed the right way?” You asked as you stifled another yawn.

“We exited the Western gate and veered left when we passed the guard tower.” Jaskier replied. “So, by now, we are quite deep in the Highland Grove.”

Though he repeated your directions perfectly, you still had quite the time processing your surroundings. Everything felt somewhat………off.

“Perhaps it’s best if you rode with me the rest of the way.” Jaskier suggested. “Otherwise, you are likely to get hurt.”

You wavered, however, you soon brought Moss to a halt. As Geralt held the bit, you dismounted and stretched a bit more. Suddenly, his neck snapped to the left. With a tense expression, the brooding warrior peered into the darkness.

Evidently, he was observing something neither you nor Jaskier could see.

“Don’t move.” Geralt commanded.

In one swift motion, he dismounted before pressing a finger to his lips. Unsheathing his sword, he shoved you behind his person. It was then the cold of the night finally hit you. As you held your coat about you more firmly, you tensed your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

“There are five of you.” Geralt declared into the darkness. “If you wish to live, keep to your business.”

“And whom are you, stranger?” A voice replied in amusement. “From what I see, you appear a foreigner. Therefore, unless you are a patsy of the Magistrate or Town Council, your word holds no weight here.”

You expected Geralt to say something more. But instead, he simply grumbled before looking over his shoulder. After advising you to stay where you were, he began moving in the direction of the voice.

Without warning, the distinct sound of an arrow broke the silence.

It was enough to make you and Jaskier draw anxious breath. But had you blinked; you would have missed what came next. Though it had been headed right for Geralt, he deflected the arrow as if swatting a fly. In fact, not even his expression changed as he pressed forward.

Stopping at the tree line, he suddenly extended his free hand.

At first you were confused. What Geralt hoped to accomplish, you did not know. However, it became apparent that he was casting. Rapidly, an odd blue light formed in his palm. When satisfied with the scope of it, he released the energy into the darkness.

And it must have hit its intended target. Because what came next was a cacophony of agonizing screams and curses. When all the noise died down, three furious men came bounding out from the tree line.

“Damn abomination! You killed my mates with your sorcery!” A man wielding two blades shouted.

In the entirety of your life, you had never witnessed such a battle up close. Sure, your father and Uncle had protected the family on many occasions. However, nothing to the degree of what was before you.

“Keep behind me, Y/N.” Jaskier whispered as he kept hold of the steeds. “If anyone wanders close, I will protect you.”

You wanted to ask what weapon he intended to use. Because from observation, the only thing he could wield was his lute. Nevertheless, since it was the thought the mattered, you remained silent. As things got bloodier, you avoided the carnage by looking to the ground.

Mercifully, the violent commotion began to fade. Before long, it was replaced by the song of crickets once more. When you looked at Geralt, he hardly looked like he had just fought off three men. Not only was he breathing normally, he was calmly wiping the blood from his sword.

“You used magic on them.” You said, peeking out from behind Jaskier.

Ignoring you completely, Geralt commanded you to continue the journey on the Bard’s steed. Incensed at being snubbed, you stared at him.

“Though you are no mortal, my Lord, I must say this. You simply do not understand how things work in Stillwell.” You said as he tied a rope to Moss’s reigns. “You cannot simply execute people here. The law states that one must give opportunity for surrender.”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that it?” You asked. “You just killed five people and all you can do is grunt.”

“Apple thief, get going.”

“Apple thief? I have a name, you know!”

As if you had said nothing at all, Geralt pointed to Jaskier who was stood by his hired steed. Sensing the awkward tension between you, the poor Bard gave a meek wave.

“Alright!” You fumed. “If you will not address anything I have said, at least answer this. What are you, exactly?”

After giving an exasperated sigh, Geralt grabbed hold of you. With little effort, he then set you upon the saddle by force. Hiding a smirk, Jaskier mounted the steed, taking his place behind you. As he took hold of the reigns, you perceived the Bard was on the verge of laughter.

“The absolute nerve of him!” You seethed. “That man is not only a Demon, but a rude one, at that.”

“You know something? Despite being his closest friend, I cannot argue with the last bit.”

Jaskier then snapped the reigns as your little convoy continued down the road.

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@decaffeinatedwerewolftraveler​                                                         

[scentedsongrebel]

Homecoming

Pairings: Steve Rogers × Female! Indian!Reader

Summary: You bring Steve to Mumbai to meet your Family.

Warnings: None I guess.. Some Indian references, talking in Hindi but side by side translations, fluff, tell me if I miss any.

Word count: 4620

A/N: Hey guys! So this was inspired by @pies-writes-and-more' s story Makeshift Thanksgiving dinner (Its amazing go check it out). And ever since I read it I wanted to write one like that myself with an Indian reader. We all need some representation.

I have tried to make it as natural as possible with all the things I do when I visit Mumbai. There were so many things I wanted to add but couldn't at the moment. Maybe I can add that in a possible sequel where Steve learns about Diwali?

I hope you guys like it!

This story is not edited yet

"You look perfect already you know that right?" Steve says, crouching down to get to your level, pressing your cheeks together and looking in the mirror in front of which you stand, trying to decide the best hairstyle

"Shhh" you shush him and he just rolls his eyes "its been a while okay, I'm just scared"

"From your own mother?" He says taking hold of your shoulders and turning you to look at him "from what you told me, she doesn't seem that strict"

"She is not" you shake your head "its just me, I kinda feel guilty for being gone for so long"

"Hey" he says moving his hand to caress your cheek "its gonna be alright. She knows it was important. And from what you have told me, she did encourage you and its been what two years"

"That's a long time for us Steve"

"But now look at you and the success you have achieved, she will be proud"

You nod your head and give him a small smile

"Thank you" you wrap your arms around his neck and he moves forward to take hold of your waist and pull you in for a long heated make out session

When you pull back, you look at him, breathlessly bringing your pointer finger in front of his face

"Remember do not--"

"Kiss you in a public space or in front of your family" Steve continues, shaking his head "I know"

You hit him on the shoulder lightly, an offending smile on your face

"Its important information"

"I know" he gives you a small smile, taking your hand in his and moving towards the exit gate of the quin jet

"Mumbai here we come!”

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

"I need to take something over" Steve says through the blaring of horns of the cars around as he sits besides you on the rickshaw "My Ma always said to take wine or some flowers when visiting a dame's house"

Your eyes widen and you shake your head vigorously

"No! No wine and no beer"

"Okay?" He looks at you uncertainly "I can't go there empty handed"

"Why?" you ask, knowing the answer but still teasing

"Because its manners and well" he blushes a little "I wanna impress her.. Okay?"

"You wanna impress my mother" you laugh "isn't she a little young for you?"

"Ha ha ha very funny" he nudges your shoulder as a scooter honking loudly passes beside your vehicle

"Sorry" you say, laughing "couldn't help it. And don't worry" You place a hand on his shoulder "I got it covered"

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

You ask the rickshaw driver to stop at a place a little away from your house and get down, paying in accordance to the meter.

Steve gets out after you, pulling all your luggage out and looking around at the busy road, observing the countless shops that line both the sides.

The narrow street has a divider in the middle that separates the vehicles going in opposite directions. Along the footpath, where countless pedestrians walk countless shops line the entire perimeter as far away as he can see.

There are book stores with books lying on a counter, jewelry stores, bakeries, toy shops, an umbrella stand, a small shop that seems to sell grocery items and so many more, Steve can't even name them all.

You look at him as he looks around the street, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to take it all in.

You are so thankful for Nat and the Bionic mask she provided you with as no one recognizes Steve. To them he is just some random white man and not Captain America.

He does get double takes and stares from locals not used to seeing foreigners in this part of the city but you can have that as long as 'Captain America in India' does not become trending news. This is to be a peaceful trip.

"Follow me and if you get lost" you dig in your pocket, producing a business card "Here, this is my Mom's just show it to someone and ask for directions to her house"

"Can't I just call you?" He asks confused

"Call me?" You exclaim "I don't currently have an Indian Sim card, its at my mom's house. Do you know how much an international call costs?"

"So you would rather I have to hunt for your mother's house in a place I don't even know the language of, rather than call you for help"

"Okay fine" you roll your eyes "just call me and if for some reason your phone does not have signal just ask a shopkeeper if you can make a call. They would be happy to help. And DO NOT use the poor guy's phone to make International calls. You have my sister's number just call her okay?"

"Got it" he gives you a fond smile "Calm down"

"I am calm" he rolls his eyes "I mean, its just, its an unknown city for you and it can get crazy sometimes"

"I am from New York doll" he smiles "I know crazy"

You just shake your head

"or so you think"

You motion towards an area crowded with people in the middle of which sits a man with a big wok cooking something.

"Stay here and take care of the luggage" you say before pushing through the crowd and ordering 15 vada pavs. Steve looks at you with his eyebrows raised as you come back back to stand besides him as the guy prepares your order

"I don't know what this thing is but 15?"

"Well its called vada pav, its kind of like a umm... patato cutlet in bread with some chutneys but better" you say, giving him a small smile, moving ahead as the guy gives you 2 before going to pack the rest. You give one to Steve and bite on your's. He observes you before biting into his.

"Oh wow" he says through a bite "its really good. Like a little spicy and sweet but its good"

You smile at him through a bite and a hiccup escapes your mouth "God I missed real spicy food" you say closing your eyes before looking up at him "if its too spicy, I can get you some extra sweet chutney"

Steve just shakes his head as he takes another bite "No, I kinda like this taste and its not that spicy"

"Me too" you smile "and I kinda already had him put extra meethi chutney in yours"

"Meethi?"

"Sweet"

He nods his head "I still don't understand Why we bought 15 of those"

"Well, 2 for us right now, 2 for me when I get home, 2 for my sister, 2 for my mother, 2 for my aunt uf she is home, 2 for you, then 1 for the maid or 2 if she wants , extra if some neighbours show up or if we want more and the rest for breakfast tomorrow" you say as you finish yours

Steve looks at you amused

"Trust me, they will all be over before you know it"

"You sure love this thing"

You just nod your head cheekily but before you can say anything else, the shopkeeper calls out to you, waving the bag with your order. You pay, take your order with a 'Thankyou bhaiya' and he gives you a small smile.

You come back to Steve showing him your polythene and smiling.

"All done" Steve pulls the bag out of your hand before you remind him of all the other luggage by his feet which he promptly picks up. You try to reach for your bag before he shakes his head and motions for you to just to lead the way and you look around to get another rickshaw. Super soldier or not there is no way you will let him walk this distance with all your luggage.

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

"Okay one last time" you say as Steve pulls out the last bag from the rickshaw and he sighs

"The moment we see your mother, I gotta touch her feet and you will pretend you forgot to do it and she will be impressed by me"

You nod your head resolutely

"This is so stupid" he says grumbling as you take out your phone to call your sister

"You wanna impress her or not?"

He nods his head, sighing dejectedly.

You seem to realize you can't call her with international roaming so you ask Steve to wait as you look up towards your mother's apartment. Its only on the second floor so circling your hands to make a make shift microphone, you scream your sister's name

"TANYAAAAAAAAAAA" Steve visibly flinches next to you, moving to cover his ears

"Are you crazy???"

You wave a hand in his direction, screaming again. He looks around to apologize to any neighbors that may be disturbed but no one seems to care.

A moment later a girl comes up on the balcony of an apartment on the second floor and screams back

"KYA?" (What)

"SAMAN BAHUT HAI NEECHE AA" (there's a lot of luggage, come down) you scream and Steve winces again, looking at you in irritation 

Your sister just rolls her eyes in irritation before muttering a "Theek hai" (ok) and running back inside

A minute later Steve sees her coming out of the main entrance on the building and giving you a tight hug. You hug her back, Something akin to tears forming in both your eyes as you hold on to each other.

She rubs your back before turning to Steve and frowning

"I thought you said your boyfriend was Captain America"

You just shake your head and move to pick up a suitcase as Steve picks up a bag and a suitcase. Your Sister picks up the rest of your stuff, sighing and moving towards the stairs.

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

The door to the apartment on the second floor is open as you make your way in, placing the bags down on the living room floor before taking your shoes off near the shoe stand.

Steve copies your actions but picks up both your shoes and his and places them on the shoe stand. You shake your head, smiling back at him as he gives you a teasing smirk.

He observes the beautiful living room of the house with shelves lining the front wall and a television in the middle of all the show pieces. An L-shaped sofa set sits against the back wall of the room and behind the sofa a gate partially opened to reveal the entrance to a balcony. The dinner table is pressed against a far corner besides the corridor that leads to the other rooms in the house.

On the main wall just above the TV he sees countless pictures of your family along with a framed one which he recognizes as your father from the pictures he had seen with a flower necklace around the frame.

He turns back to you but you are busy looking around the house searching for your mother before she comes out of the kitchen, wearing a beautiful yellow colored salwar kameez.

You move to run and hug her before your plan comes to mind and you give Steve a look.

He quickly moves ahead as your Mom reaches you both and bends down to touch her feet.

She looks at him confused for a moment before her lips break into a fond smile and she places her hand on his head.

"Jeete raho" ( live long)

Steve seems unsure as he looks at you and you give him a discreet nod as he stands up.

Your turn

"Oh no" you say feigning shock and bringing your hand to your heart "I completely forgot, thanks for reminding me Steve"

You say and then bend down to touch your Mother's feet to seek her blessings, missing the defeated sigh by Steve and eye rolling by your sister.

Your mother gives you her blessings too before shaking her head at you and crossing her arms, her eyes narrowed

She turns to Steve

"This her master plan?"

Steve looks at her, startled. Not because he is shocked she saw through your horrible plan but because she asked him. He looks at her a moment, a little scared before remembering he needed to win over this woman even if it meant pushing you under the bus.

So he just nods his head and your mother sighs

"And I was supposed to what be naive and stupid and think that you know how we great our elders here while my daughter, who I raised teaching all this forgot?"

Steve feels his heartbeat quicken by the look she gives him and he nods quickly

"I tried to tell her it was a stupid idea" he says and you look at him incredulously and mouth traitor.

Your mom shakes her head again

"She has been like this since she was young" your mother says, a smile gracing her lips "coming up with the most mundane ideas"

"Tell me about it" Steve rolls his eyes before realizing where he is and shaking his head and looking at your Mom apologetically "I-I didn't mean to-"

Your mother grins at him "Don't be so scared of me beta. I know she has not changed a bit"

"Mummaaa" you whine and she turns back to you, laughing

"Mera baccha" (my child) she says and then pulls you into her arms. You have to bend a little with your height difference but you quickly hug her back. Tears stream down your cheeks as she gently moves her hand up and down at the back of your head. The hug lasts a long while before she pulls away to look you over

"Kuch khaati hai ki nhi?" (You eat something or not?) She says taking hold of your face between her hands

You nod your head at her, rolling your eyes

"You've gotten so thin" she says

"Only to you. I've only lost a little weight because I started learning self defense from Nat"

Before your mother can say anything more, you are interrupted by your sister

"Nat as is Natasha Romanoff?" She says moving forward "Black Widow? She your friend because now I'm really doubting you. I was promised Captain America, I took a day off and he" She turns to Steve "No offense"

"None taken"

"He is not Captain America"

"You took a day off work because you wanted to meet me" you say laughing

"You tell yourself that" she mutters "now I don't mind if your boyfriend isn't a super hero but like why would you lie to me?"

You just roll your eyes before moving forward and hitting the back of your sister's head

"I hoped you would have learned some manners by now but clearly I was wrong"

She narrows her eyes and moves to hit you back before your mom interrupts you both

"Girls we have a guest over" she says "show some respect"

Before any of you can blame the other for the fight, Steve moves forward and removes the Bionic mask, revealing that he in fact is The Captain America.

Your sister's eyes widen to the size of saucers as she stares and stares and stares before Steve looks at you uncomfortably.

You sigh

"And she says she has manners" you say to tease her "Come on Tan, staring is bad"

This seems to wake her up from her daze and she looks at you in shock before turning back to Steve

"Wow dude, that was so cool"

"SHEILD equipment" you say "Didn't want to attract any unwanted attention on the way"

She nods in understanding before your Mom reminds her to bring water for you guys as you maybe thirsty after the journey.

Your sister seems to have just realized that and nods her head before running to the kitchen and coming back out with a trey and 3 glasses filled with water on it, she offers them to the two of you and then your mother and all of you gulp it down.

"You wanna go inside and rest for a while?" Your mother asks

"Actually we were a little hungry" you say looking over at Steve as he blushes, scratching the back of his head

"Oh yeah!" She says quickly rushing towards the kitchen "I have made so many things for you"

You try to offer your assistance but she insists you have come home after a long time and she wants to serve you today.

You furrow your eyebrows looking at your sister and she just gives you a smile back. It was very rare for your mother to be sentimental. But maybe being away from your child for so long does that.

As your mother comes to sit on the small dinner table after she has placed all the containers, bowls and plates in front of you guys.

Steve looks over at the dinner table, looking nothing short of an entire feast. He knows even he and Bucky can never finish this much food. Even together!

When he looks at you, he smiles at the wonder in your eyes as you too are busy browsing through the dishes set on the table, removing the lids to inspect the items.

"Haye! Mumma I missed your pav bhaji so much" you say moving forward in your seat and taking a serving of the brown curry or something Steve doesn't understand what it is on your plate.

Then you take a spoon full and put in on his plate

"This is called pav bhaji. This is the bhaji or ummm basically like mashed mixed vegetables and you eat it with this" you move forward to remove the plate that covers a bowl and produce a bun, picking it and placing it on his plate.

"Its the same bread we ate with the vada pav"

He nods at you, taking it all in. He has always had an interest in your culture and had tried to learn everything that makes you you.

He copies your motion as you break a piece out of your pav, folding it to make a spoon and then dipping it in the bhaji before eating it.

"This is really good" Steve says as he takes his third bite "You made this mam?"

Your mother goes to nod before you speak up

"Yup" you say between a mouthful "Mumma makes the best bhaji. Even when we lived in Delhi, all my friends loved her pav bahji"

Steve smiles "Well you can add me to the list of people that like this"

Your Mom gives out a small laugh and moves a plate in front of him

"You don't need to flatter me Beta" she says "I know you may not like this food so I ordered pizza for you"

Steve looks at her, his eyes wide "I no- I like this, there's no need to-"

"This is like the best pizza here" Your mom says smiling at him "Its Tanya's choice so I don't know how good it really is"

"Mummaaaa" Tanya wines as you all laugh

You turn to Steve "Tani has the worst choice when it comes to food"

"Yeah and you with your pineapple on pizza are the best food chooser"

"Hey! Its good"

"Okay girls stop" your mom says and you both stop to look at her "Fight when I'm not around"

You both laugh and nod at her before going back to your food.

Your Mom offers the Pizza to Steve which he promptly denies telling her he would like to have the things she made while you nod and say the same thing. Your sister on the other hand takes three slices.

The conversations goes as Steve gets to try more of the Indian food. The table is lined with things that your Mother prepared because they were your favorites. He tries some kind of small yellow colored rolls called khandavi, Steve couldn't for the love of himself pronounce it, there's samosas which he has had before in the Indian restaurant you took him too but these ones have cheese in them because you only ate them like this when you were young.

He specially loves the lassi which is a milk based drink and your mother tells him about how she learnt it after getting married to your father seeing as he was from the north where the drink is originally from.

When your Mother serves him a serving of the shahi paneer with some rice, Steve moves his spoon to take a bite before you hit your leg against his. He turns to look at where you sit besides him in confusion

You give him a look and he internally groans and sighs

"Oh I will eat this with my hands" he sighs discarding his spoon, and looking at his plate having no idea how to do this

Before you can initiate the next step of your plan your Mom laughs and turns to Steve

"She put you up to this?"

Steve immediately gives a nod, not even fighting for you and your Mom turns to you with narrowed eyes

"Leave the poor boy alone will you"

"I didn't-" you try to speak and she shushes you

"You have never in your life been able to eat chawal (rice) with your hands, how do you expect the poor boy to do that?"

Your Sister snickers while drinking her lassi.

"I eat rice with my hands" you try to defend yourself and your mother just snorts

"The floor and table eat more then you do when that happens" she says

You narrow your eyes at her as a smile comes to your lips but before you can say anything, she turns to Steve

"Beta, whatever else stupid plans she has given you just abandon them"

Steve nods his head, smiling "Yes mam"

"You can call me Aunty" she says with a sigh "Mam makes me sound like I'm at work"

"Okay Aunty" Steve grins, feeling like he is making progress as he dives back to eat his food having to close his eyes as the ras malai melts in his mouth.

The conversation around the table goes on as your mother enquires about his job and life during the war. She gives a nod of approval when he expresses how impressed he is of the work you do and assures her he would never have problem even if you work odd hours.

She tells him about how your father was a doctor too and your biggest inspiration to persue this field how no matter how sceptical she was about you going to the states alone, she knew your father would have wanted anything that would have been best for your career and she wants that too.

When you get teary eyed at the mention of your father, your mother just places her hand on yours and starts talking about how your brother is travelling around the world as a travel photographer and your sister's new project and how she is proud of all her kids.

"This will always be your house too now" she says as she finishes the last servings in her plate "Whenever you come to mumbai you have to stay here Steve, no hotel nonsense"

Steve looks at the kind woman and nods his head with a grin. Your mother then turns to you

"I know you were scared of bringing a white guy home and trust me I was scared of this day too but your father always assured me how smart you were and you would always chose the right guy. I guess he was right"

She sighs and Steve feels his heart stopping before he grins and looks at you. Your eyes are wide and you keep staring at your Mother before she nods her head towards the bowls on the table and starts to get up to discard her plates for washing, clearly indicating she won't say more about this topic.

You just smile to yourself before looking at Steve and giving his hand a small squeze.

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

You reluctantly go with your sister, shooting Steve a worried look as she insists on catching up. Steve gives you a thumbs up as your sister pushes you inside the door that leads to her room, shooting him a wink. He gives her a grateful smile.

It was when you had gone inside the kitchen, helping your mother put the leftovers in the refrigerator that he had asked your sister for help in getting a moment alone with your mother.

She had looked at him suspiciously before he promised her a signed picture by Natasha herself and your sister was sold.

So here he stood, looking around as your mother shows him your brother's room. You hadn't even tried to ask if you two could share a room. Not a road you wanna go down honestly.

"Its been a while since Tarun was home but don't worry the bed should be comfortable enough, that boy spent weeks choosing the most perfect, comfortable mattress"

Steve nods, looking around the room. The queen sized bed is placed against the wall on the right side of the room, a side table with a table lamp sits besides it. A full length mirror cupboard is besides the larger cupboard against the right wall. The front half of the room and nunerous shelves lined with different pictures of different places around the world. There is a study table with a spare keyboard and some some below the pictures.

"If you need anything just call me" she says smiling at him and moving to leave before Steve stops her

"I umm, I needed to ask you something" he says uncertainly

She gives him a small smile, motioning for him to say it

"I umm I-" he shakes his head, digging into his bag and producing the velvet box he carries everywhere "I wanna marry her"

Your mother's eyes widen as she looks at the ring and then at Steve in shock

"And I need your permission"

That seems to shock her even more "My- My permission?"

He nods his head

"Don't you western kids just decide to get married and then tell the parents?"

Steve shakes his head at her

"Your approval means a lot to Y/n and to me too. If you feel I am not the one for your daughter, If you don't want me to ask her,I won't"

He says solemly

"I love her but I know how important her family, her culture is to her and I would never wanna take that away from her. I know she wants the proper Indian wedding and I would love if you help us organize that"

A lone tear falls down your mother's eye as she moves forward and places a hand on Steve's cheek.

"You are a good boy Steve" she says smiling up at him and he bends down a little so she can place her hand on his head "You have my blessings beta"

Steve lets out a laugh of his own at that

"Thank you aunty I won't disappoint you. I just hope she says yes"

She smiles at him

"She would not have brought you here if she weren't completely sure of you, trust me"

Steve looks at her thankfully

"You take care of her" she says moving to get out of the room "and you can call me Mumma"

A grin takes over Steve's face as he moves to do a happy dance.

"That is if she says yes"

And the curve of his lips flattens as your mother leaves, laughing on her way out.

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

Taglist: @kayteewritessteve

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Who Are You || Ariana & Kaden

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Kaden shows Ariana how to make proper croissants and they share some real talk about what happened with Lydia.  CONTENT: Mentions of sibling death and gun use

If you had told Ariana seven or so months ago that she’d be hanging out at Kaden’s apartment and getting a baking lesson, there was no way she should have believed it. By nature, they were supposed to be at odds. At least, that’s the narrative that the world tried to thrust upon them. Growing up with Celeste, she never fully bought into it, but Kaden had seemed to be a diligent hunter. One who she feared the moment she realized what he was, but that fear was far from her now as she rolled out the dough for the croissants with a determined look on her face. The layering on these required more precision and concentration than she preferred. Cooking had always been preferred to baking, but the latter had started to grow on her. She was careful with the rolling pin and looked back to Kaden once the last layer was rolled out. “You said we chill the dough again after this, right?” With confirmation, she set the dough back in the freezer and smiled at Abel who was diligently waiting by the entrance to the kitchen in hopes of some scraps. “Sh- Putain,” she looked back at the freezer, “Sorry croissants. Are all French pastries this challenging? These make biscuits look like a cake walk.” 

 “Yes, chill it and we’ll go from there. Oven has to preheat still, too.” It was strange to think that Kaden was willingly inviting a werewolf over to his apartment. And not to kill them, either. If it wasn’t for the pinpricks parading down his spine, he wouldn’t really think of Ariana as a werewolf at this point. She seemed so human. And she was a good person. That much he didn’t doubt, not at this point. Still not something he could have pictured a year ago. It should feel wrong but instead, there was some comfort in having her there with him in the kitchen, to not be alone. “Not all of them, no. Some of them are more challenging than this,” he said with a smirk as he continued to prep their work stations. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was about baking that was so calming, stabilizing in a way. Maybe it was because he could focus on just what was in front of him. And none of it had anything to do with monsters or nightmares or any other bullshit. Just flour, sugar, butter, a recipe, precise steps that had some room for experimentation, but still straight forward enough that there was minimal guess work. And as much as he’d resisted ever becoming a teacher or trainer for hunter bullshit, he was almost enjoying sharing what he knew with others. Another weird thing he never expected. “It’ll be worth it though; the work. There’s nothing quite like a fresh croissant. You’ll see. All others will be ruined for you.”

 Ariana nodded along to Kaden’s instructions in regard to the croissants. They were somewhat familiar with her’s and Athena’s previous attempts. Apparently baking with hunters was one of her new hobbies. It was strange, being so firmly planted in the middle of two so very different worlds. Even with Alcher coming around and respecting her way of thinking, everything left her feeling like she didn’t quite belong anywhere despite her dream of finding her own supernatural community. A pack of sorts. But she had to believe she was making a difference. Kaden, a werewolf hunter who by all indications had been good at hunting and believed in what he did, had her in his home yet again. Though he seldom liked to admit it he cared for her. A whole ass werewolf. A small one, but still a werewolf nonetheless. He saw her as a person. He saw Regan as a person. Morgan, too. He even chose not to kill Lydia. His connections had to be making some sort of impact and she had to believe she was helping make things better somehow. The spaced-out look on her face was brief as she quickly remarked, “More challenging? I guess that’s why French cuisine is so renowned.” Still, a question sat on the edge of her tongue, but she smiled calmly anyway though her fidgeting hands likely gave her away. “If these aren’t the best croissants I’ve ever had, I want my money back,” she joked knowing full well she didn’t pay for any of the ingredients. Finally, she bit the bullet and leaned against the counter not caring all that much for the flour getting on her. She looked to Kaden somewhat cautiously. “Can I ask you something?” 

 Kaden smiled as he watched her try to process a baking process more complicated than what they were doing now. “Hey, there’s a reason I usually stick to pies.” He made sure the counter was sufficiently floured and ready to work, double checked the oven. Yeah, all the could do now was wait a few minutes.”Not that I don’t enjoy a challenge, just sometimes it was nice to work with a little less precision, a little mindlessly, I guess,” he added with a shrug. Especially if he was looking for some relaxation. Pastries where one wrong decision ruined the whole thing was far from relaxing. Stress found him easily enough outside of the kitchen, he did what he could to minimize it here. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll get your heavy investment back if these don’t turn out, Ari. Don’t worry.” He almost said he promised. Almost. He ought to know better than to use that word by now. Somehow the air around them shifted slightly. He couldn’t describe it. At first he wondered if it was just the chill down his back nagging at him once more, but that wasn’t it. “Sure. What?” he responded as he rested against the counter across the way, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

 This was easily the most relaxed Ariana had personally ever seen Kaden. They’d spent a good chunk of the afternoon baking and joking around. It felt like this was the way things were supposed to be more often than not. “Well, you make damn good pies and I get to eat the pies so no complaints here,” she said with a small smile. She hoped the question she had to ask wouldn’t completely ruin the mood, but it had been on her mind for weeks now. With how evident it was he cared for her, it was clear something changed and her curiosity had never been easy to keep at bay. With confirmation it was okay to ask, she assured, “I know I’m not supposed to use this word, but you’re not fae and I want you to know I’m serious-- So I promise that no matter what the answer is, I’m not going to judge you or think any less of you.” After all, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing he chose not to kill someone. She leaned against the counter and softened her features though her eyes were still inquisitive. “Why didn’t you kill Lydia? What stopped you?” It wasn’t a question that could be sugar-coated, but she kept her tone soothing as if to verbally cue that she was upholding her promise. 

 Kaden’s mouth pulled into a thin line at the word “promise.” Sure, she had a point, but it did nothing but make his stomach churn at this point. The word was laced with so much pain and turmoil now. Funny how much a stupid singualr word could mean. But this was Ari. It was safe. Safe as it could be at least. Weird enough he thought of a werewolf as “safe.” Still, he waited, arms crossed, and nodded, waiting for her question. He didn’t know what he expected her to ask, but it wasn’t that. He pulled back his shoulder blades, shifted his stance and looked away, as if the answer could be found by staring off somewhere in the distance. His fingers pulled at the cloth of his shirt around the crook of his elbows. It didn’t help him sort through anything much. “I don’t--” He bit at the inside of his lip, pulling back his words. Even if he wasn’t sure how to articulate his answer, he knew there was one. Somewhere. He knew. Deep down. It was somewhere. “I just…” He sighed and dropped his arms and rubbed his temples. “I just couldn’t.” He couldn’t meet Ari’s eyes either. “I was there and I had the knife to her chest and I just… I couldn’t do it. Something about…” He shook his head again and struggled to find a way to describe it. Nothing about explaining felt right. His choice felt wrong no matter how he framed it. But at the same time, he didn’t think he’d have done anything different when push came to shove. And what he made of that, he didn’t know. “I just couldn’t, alright. I-- I couldn’t be like her.” 

 Ariana watched him calmly as he struggled to answer her question. It was a loaded one, she knew that, but it was also important. Kaden wasn’t exactly the most open when it came to verbalizing what was on his mind and even when he did, it was mostly French swear words. Not that she faulted him for as much. The more strained Kaden’s words sounded, the softer her own features became. He needed to know that no matter where he was currently at, she wasn’t going to fault him or abandon him. Something told her he was getting better, seeing other supernatural people as well… people. “You mentioned that before,” she said calmly, “There just has to be a why there. Even if you haven’t figured it out yet.” Then what he said next caused something in her to crack. Her head snapped up abruptly and she looked a bit alarmed by what he said. She quickly assured, “You could never be like Lydia.” Even if in their own ways, they had both been killers, intentions mattered. While Lydia needed to eat, she didn’t need to torture those poor humans. She didn’t need to use her words to hurt others who weren’t even her food source, but Lydia did all of those things with little regard. That wasn’t Kaden. She struggled to make eye contact as his own gaze cast away from her, but she continued, “You’re nothing like her and you won’t ever be like her. I can get that Lydia had to feed, but what she did- she tortured people needlessly. She hurt people intentionally just because she could. To exert her power or whatever. That’s not you. Even if you- You do what you do to help people.” 

Still, his answer left Ariana with more questions. Questions she wasn’t sure wouldn’t make Kaden lose any sense of cool he was trying to maintain, but even if he did get annoyed with her, she was sure they’d be able to snap back so she asked, “Do you see her as more than a monster then? It’s okay if you do. I don’t think I could have killed her either as much as I don’t mourn the fact she’s gone.” 

 Kaden wrung his hands together in thought. So much so that when he looked down, all the flour he’d coated them with had been wrung away. Putain. He turned to wipe them with the white powder, coating them just enough to repel any of the dough they would be working with. Not that he needed to right then, they weren't going to handle the dough for a bit. But he needed to do something. He had to. He hadn’t done anything in that clearing. Well, that wasn’t true. He did something, but it wasn’t enough, was it? A group had to clean up after him, after his choices. Ones that nearly got him killed. A few times. He’d been rubbing his hands back and forth to shake off some of the excess flour, but he’d realized once again that he’d wiped off too much. Fuck. 

“I-- It’s not like that,” Kaden started, wanting to run his hands through his hair and thinking better of it, settling to rub the flour deeper into his skin instead. “I know I’d never torture or-- But that’s not…” He pinched his eyes closed and shook his head. He wasn’t sure if this was who he should be having this conversation with of all people. As much as he cared about Ari, as good hearted as she was and as instrumental as she was in taking Lydia down, she was still a kid. Right, sure. A kid who to deal with so much death already. Things no one was prepared for. He looked back at her and tried to remember himself at that age. What Oscar would have thought he was ready to hear, and what Kaden at that age would have thought in comparison. Maybe he shouldn’t use Oscar as a goal post. Still. Maybe this was fine. Right? Putain. 

“She nearly killed me, Ari,” Kaden said, looking back down at his hands. Hands that had destroyed as much as they helped create, maybe more. Deadly hands. He took a sharp inhale before looking back to her. “She had a gun to my heart. Point blank. And I got lucky it was out of ammo.” He’d been there on the other side of the gun, of the death. He saw the look in her eyes before she was sure she was going to kill him. The fear had left her from earlier and all that was there was cold determination. The clarity that she was right. The look he was sure so many creatures had seen painted on his face before the twist of his knife or the bullet left the gun. He’d faced death hundreds of times in his life. But he’d never been on the other side of the hunt like that. Not once. Usually it was a kill or be killed that was still the prey fighting back. This was… different. “I was on the other side of it and I-- when the tables turned. I couldn’t choose it. To be what she had intended to be.” It made him weak, foolish. To let her go after all that. To abandon all his training for the sake of some stupid thought of his soul and its fate. What did his morality matter for the greater good? Apparently more than it had in the past. “I don’t know if I see her as anything other than a monster. She was-- That wasn’t the point. Not-- I couldn’t be on the other side of the knife. For some fucking reason.” The dough had to be ready by now. He swung the freezer open and pulled it out and placed it on the counter. Like it was of any importance. Like he was allowed to play at being normal. 

 Ariana watched him intently as he processed what she’d asked him. The way his hands couldn’t seem to keep still was more than indication this wasn’t an easy topic. She’d never been under the illusion it would be, but it was still difficult to watch Kaden struggle all the same. His hands kept brushing the flour away only to re-coat them in flour moments later. As if the physical movements could tie any of this together in a nice, simple way. But that’s the thing, this wasn’t simple. There was no way it’d ever be simple, but it was important. She wished Celeste was here. If anyone could help Kaden figure all of this out, it was her. But she wasn’t here. She wouldn’t ever be here to offer her wisdom again, so Ariana would try to bring some of her energy to the conversation the best she could. “Alright, maybe it’s not the point, but it’s still an important distinction. Something you stand for.” 

Prior to the mention of nearly killing Kaden, Ariana had still been leaning against the counter keeping her arms calmly at her side. The idea of Lydia killing Kaden made her hands ball up into fists. Her anger was all directed at Lydia, but she tried her best to keep her features gentle though her face ended up looking like more of a grimace. It reminded her just how much Kaden getting killed was a distinct possibility. The thought only made her want to lock him away in this apartment, but she knew he’d never stand for that. “You’re only here because the gun was out of ammo,” she said, her voice coming out as a strained whisper and her fists clenching even tighter. The more he spoke, the more questions she had. He couldn’t be her when the tables were turned, but hadn’t he been so many times before? Lydia was far worse than any werewolf she’d ever met so she was having a difficult time understanding. She took a few deep breaths and reminded herself, Kaden was still here, and even if this didn’t make sense to her, they still had each other. 

“You couldn’t be on the other side of the knife… or gun,” Ariana asked slowly, still not entirely sure on what to make of that. The fact she was important to him was enough to show Kaden’s values were changing, but not in a way that seemed concrete as of yet. Now she felt tense. She wasn’t sure how to clarify without making Kaden feel defensive. She’d meant what she said, that there was no judgment on her part. People were capable of some pretty amazing things when people believed in them and hell, she believed in Kaden. Maybe other wolves would think she was foolish for it, but time and again, Kaden had showed up for her when it mattered most. “Look,” she started, “I’m not trying to- What I’m going to say, I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just want to understand. And I think you need to understand. You need to know where you stand so you don’t get killed out there.” There was a good chance he’d tell her to drop it, but even if he at least thought about it, he was one step closer to making his own way. Keeping himself safer by not putting himself in a position of fighting someone he couldn’t kill. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and finally let her hands relax. “You’ve been on the other side of the knife before,” she reminded him gently, “Something has to be different-- even if it’s you.” 

 Something he stood for. Right. More and more, Kaden wasn’t sure what he stood for. Everything had softened from black and white to shades of grey and it was harder to have a clear picture of what he did and didn’t support. And if that was good or bad, he couldn’t say. His hands clenched into fists for a moment before releasing them, a small puff of flour floating in the air around them as he let the tension fall away. It was strange to hear it put so plainly, coming from her mouth of all places. He’d be dead if the gun hadn’t been out of ammo. It just lent credence to the question of whether he should have even confronted her in the woods by himself. Maybe not. Probably not. What good had it done. He wanted to slink down against the counter and fall to the floor to sit, just collapse into himself with the whole thing. But he wasn’t alone. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ari, tense and clearly struggling to calm herself down. He wasn’t going to fall to pieces in front of her. Not if he could help it, so he gripped the edge of the counter instead, held himself up, like nothing was wrong.

His knuckles went white as he held it tighter, a little more with every difficult question she posed. “That’s what I said, yeah,” Kaden confirmed, tersely. He wanted this over and done with. Nothing would change by dragging this up, would it? And she was too young to carry all this. He was sure of it. But she kept poking at it, prodding. “I know that,” he said, his voice snapping harsher than he’d meant to. “I know,” he repeated, softer this time. “I know I need focus but it’s not…” It wasn’t simple or clear anymore. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me, alright?” He turned away from her, and back towards the fridge to grab the dough, a silent savior from his thoughts. The sooner they were baking, the sooner he could drown all this out. “That was my point, Ari. I’ve been on the side that kills. Not the one that--” The lump in his throat didn’t let the rest of his words flow free. “So yeah. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter right now. Grab the rest of the dough, alright?” 

 Ariana watched on as she could see Kaden struggling with himself. While his distress and confusion were both visible, they didn’t quite make it to his words outside of a bit of a bite in his tone that he immediately softened. Her own flour covered hands started to fidget. This was something he needed to face, but maybe this wasn’t the time or she wasn’t the person. Part of her longed for Celeste to be here, she could help him through this and he wouldn’t feel obligated to be the strong adult in the room. She sighed and finally said, “Okay then. You can say that, but I’m still going to worry about you. Kind of comes with the whole giving a shit thing.” She tried to convey understanding in her features. There was no furrow in her brow or scrunch in her nose. Just calm eyes that tried to let Kaden know he wasn’t being judged here. “And that’s okay. You know that, right? I hope you know that. Maybe I can never really understand, but it does matter. Even if it’s not me, you should talk to someone and figure it out… though I have been told I’m wise beyond my years.” She said the last part a little more lightheartedly to get Kaden to stop looking like he might further grind down the flour. “But yeah, yeah, I’ll grab the dough and you can show me how it's done.” 

 Kaden paused a moment, still facing the dough on the counter. He would have to turn and face her eventually. Where the conversation went from here was up to him. “I haven’t been out. If that makes you feel better. On the full moon. Not for a while.” He looked down and noticed he’d been tracing small circles in the flour on the counter. He quickly used his palm to brush them away, clear the slate. He took a deep breath and finally faced her, letting it out as a sigh as he saw her face, seeing how hard she was trying to reach out. He tried to focus on what he knew. Ariana was a good kid. He wasn’t going to let her die. She was also a werewolf. He hunted werewolves. Where did that-- No. Focus. She was a werewolf who he wanted to protect. Even though she’d nearly killed him. So that meant he was questioning his codes. It had to. There was no other way to frame that, as much as he wanted to. That was something he had to grapple with. And soon. But he wasn’t sure how. Putain. Ari was so willing to help. But at the end of the day, she was still a kid, though. As much as she was like her sister, she wasn’t her. He gave her a smile, genuine but still small. “Thanks. For, uh. Just thanks.” He grabbed a small handful of flour and threw it at her, biting back laughter. “But no more bullshit. It’s time to bake.”