#he's googling a good sandwich shop for them to go to

[e-dubbc11]

In Bloom

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: None really, maybe a swear word or two but extra fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2.7k-ish

Summary: Part 1 of 3 (I think) Reader is in a bit of a romantic slump so she buys herself flowers every Friday until one day she finds out they’re already paid for.

A/N: Based on this ask/idea from my lovely lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass I hope you like it, my love ❤️

This girl is single and haven't had anyone in a while. Miss the intimacy. Just to make herself happy, she buys flowers for herself every Friday. But one day, the flowers have already been paid for. It's the same thing the next Friday. Then one day, there's a little note attached to the flowers....

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“When was the last time you went out on a date?”

Rolling your eyes, those words felt like a hard punch to the stomach coming from your mother.

Your Friday afternoon lunch with her felt like days. It all started with the lunch spot you chose…it wasn’t to her standards but then again nothing was. Nothing seemed to ever be good enough whether it was your job, the clothes you wore, the apartment you lived in, or the sandwich shop you picked for lunch.

It was all beneath her, sub-standard, and you had accepted the fact that nothing you do will ever be good enough for her so you just decided to continue to do whatever made you happy and not worry about what would be pleasing to her.

She tried like hell to mold you into what she wanted you to be, how she wanted you to dress, what she wanted you to do for a living, and even what kind of wedding she had wanted you to have. She didn’t succeed and when you called off your wedding to a man that looked perfect on paper but was a monster behind closed doors, she didn’t try as hard to make you into something that you just weren’t going to be.

She still took not-so subtle jabs though.

“Have a good weekend, hun. Try and get some sleep, you look tired.”

A visit with mom wasn’t complete until she commented on how you looked. It was definitely time to go.

The early autumn wind picked up as you walked from the sandwich place toward the flower shop which was a few blocks away. Your little Friday tradition was just something you had decided to do for yourself every week.

The flowers made your apartment just a little bit brighter and brought a smile to your face every time you looked at them on your dining room table.

You hadn’t really noticed the flower shop before but it presented itself when you needed a little cheering up.

It was after another bad first date, the third one in a row. You were walking home from the bar after yet another Wall Street type asshole had spent the early evening hours droning on and on about himself when the essence of rose attacked your sense of smell. It stopped you dead in your tracks and caused you to shift your eyes from the sidewalk to the door of the flower shop in front of you.

Bouquets of beautiful flowers were in buckets of water outside but so many more caught your eye that were inside so you decided to go in and look around.

“We close in fifteen minutes, Miss. Is there something specific you’re looking for?” The man behind the counter had asked with a warm smile.

You tried to smile back but it only came out as half a smile. “Something to make me feel better after a bad date?” You replied.

His expression tempered and you could tell he really wanted to help.

“Let me see what I can put together for you.” He said.

And he went to work pulling flowers from different buckets and arranging them into the most beautiful bouquet, wrapping them in paper and plastic and securing them with a ribbon. The bouquet was full of carnations, roses, gerbera daisies, and lilies…all in different shades of red and pink. It was almost like he knew they were two of your favorite colors.

Watching him meticulously put those flowers together for you already made you feel better about that night.

“Here you go, my dear. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” He said handing you the flowers.

You were absolutely stunned at how gorgeous they were and that was how you met Mr. Campbell, the sweetest little old man with the prettiest flowers in town which kept you coming back weekly for fresh ones.

After the taxing lunch you just had with your mother, it was time to make yourself feel better with your weekly flowers.

“Hi, Mr. Campbell. How are you today!?” You asked.

He shifted his gaze from the bouquet he was working on to greet you, pushing his glasses up that had slid down the bridge of his nose.

“My dear, y/n! Well, I can’t complain…I woke up again so that’s a good thing, plus I knew I’d get to see your smiling face today and that’s ALWAYS a good thing.” He said with excitement.

A wide smile stretched across your lips. “This is my favorite Friday stop, Mr. Campbell!” You said.

The corner of his mouth turned up and he raised his eyebrows. “You sure it’s not the liquor store, y/n?” He asked with a slight chuckle while looking at the bottle of wine in your hand.

You let out a full blown belly laugh. “Ok, well that’s my OTHER favorite Friday stop. You know I like my wine.” You said trying to control your laughter.

“What are you in the mood for today, my dear?” Mr. Campbell asked.

You inhaled sharply and let out a deep exhale. “Well I just had a very long and taxing lunch with my mother so something a little crazy with a lot of colors would be perfect.”

And that’s all he needed to hear. In a matter of minutes he moved from bucket to bucket, picking out every color flower he could get his fragile little hands on and arranged them especially for you into one crazy colored bouquet.

“Awww Mr. Campbell, they’re perfect, as always! Thank you!” You said handing him the money for the flowers and the nip of Jack Daniel’s you bought for him every Friday. “There’s better tasting whiskey out there, you sure you don’t want somethin’ else?”

“No, no…this is what I like y/n.” He said, getting back to the arrangement he was working on when you walked in.

“Ok, well you just let me know if you want something else. I gotta get goin’, I have a hot date with the couch and this wine when I get home.” You said sarcastically.

“It’s Friday night, my dear. You should go OUT on a date!” He said.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh no, don’t you start with me too Mr. Campbell. My mother said the same thing to me a little while ago. I’ll see you next week.” You said as you waved goodbye and reached for the door.

An incredibly handsome man on the other side of the door opened it for you and ushered you through. He was tall, with dark hair, a short beard, eyes as dark as the night sky and a perfect smile.

You smiled back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He said.

You didn’t look back and headed for home.

The flower shop after you left.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Russo. The usual for you today?” Mr. Campbell asked.

Billy had his long overcoat tucked under his arm, watching with a smile as he watched you walk down the street until you were out of sight.

“Yes please, Luther. That would be great.” Billy said softly as he paced around looking at all the different flowers.

Mr. Campbell had caught Billy looking at you when you left the shop.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she.” He stated, raising his eyebrows.

Billy thought he had acted nonchalant while checking you out. “What?” Billy asked. “Oh…yes…she is. Was that her first time in here?”

“She comes in every Friday and buys flowers for herself.” Mr. Campbell said.

A sly smirk stretched across Billy’s face. “Well we can’t have that now can we, Luther.”

Mr. Campbell returned the smirk, looked at Billy over his glasses and asked. “Shall I add another bouquet to your weekly purchase, Billy?”

“Yes please, whatever she wants but do NOT tell her I’m the one that paid for them.” Billy said sternly.

“She is going to ask, so what am I supposed to tell her?” Said Mr. Campbell.

Billy rested his hand on the counter and pondered for a minute.

As he picked up his flowers and started to walk toward the door, Billy turned back to Mr. Campbell and said “Just tell her you are sworn to secrecy and she’ll find out…soon, I promise.”

**********

The following Friday after a long day at work, you clocked out and started your walk to the flower shop. The warm afternoon sun grazed the high points of your face as you strolled down the sidewalk just enjoying the crisp fall air, and in no rush to get where you were going.

This was your favorite time of year. Vendors in the street sold warm apple cider and kettle corn, people with their flushed cheeks hurried past you with their hands shoved into their jacket pockets, while a short gust of wind nearly took your hat right off of your head.

Your first stop was the liquor store. Mr. Campbell really enjoyed the nip of Jack Daniel’s you gave him every Friday, he always told you it was the best part of his week and you loved it too. It felt nice to have something steady in your life even if was just a sweet elderly man and a bouquet of self-bought flowers.

The wind caught the door on your way into the flower shop and you had a hard time holding on to it but you managed to close it before it flew off the hinges.

“A little windy out there, y/n?” He joked, barely looking up from the arrangement he was putting together.

You pressed your lips together and replied. “Just a little. I nearly lost my hat, Mr. Campbell!”

“So what sort of bouquet will make you feel good today, my dear.” He asked.

Looking around the shop, the sunflowers caught your eye. “Something with a few sunflowers, I think.” You said.

And off he went picking out autumn colors of burnt orange, bright yellow, and deep red with the sunflowers being the focal point in the middle next to fern like greens. It was a beautiful work of art just like every other week which always put a smile on your face.

As you opened your purse, Mr. Campbell stopped you, waving his hand at you to put your wallet away. “No…no, they’re already paid for y/n.”

You had a confused yet skeptical look on your face. “What do you mean they’re already paid for?” You said.

“Exactly what I said y/n, someone has already paid for your flowers.” He said, with a devilish grin stretched across his face.

“Well, who paid for them?” You asked.

“I am sworn to secrecy, my dear.” He said raising his hand and closing his eyes.

Reaching into your tote bag, you pulled out the nip of Jack Daniel’s. “Ya know I’m not sure you deserve this today but that wouldn’t be very nice of me, would it.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I’m sworn to secrecy but you will find out soon who paid for them, he promised.” He stated with a slight smile as you waved and left the store.

Who could it be?

For the next few weeks, every time you’ve gone to pay for your flowers they had already been paid for. You even treated yourself to long stem red roses one week, orchids the next and Mr. Campbell STILL insisted he had already been paid. It didn’t matter how expensive the flowers were, you didn’t have to pay a dime.

Every week, you would BEG Mr. Campbell to tell you who was paying for your bouquets but he didn’t fold. He didn’t give up the name of the man buying you whatever your little heart desired that week but he really loved watching you smile.

Finally on week number four, you walked in to pick out your flowers and after putting together your bouquet, Mr. Campbell had a little something extra to add…it was a note that said:

Someone as sweet as you shouldn’t have to buy their own flowers. I hope you’ve been enjoying them. Now look outside…

You looked up from the card toward the door and flashing his perfect smile at you was the handsome man that had held the door open for you a handful of weeks ago. Warmth rushed to your cheeks and suddenly there were butterflies in your stomach as he walked through the door and planted himself firmly in front of you.

“Billy Russo…it’s nice to finally meet you…” He said, extending his hand for you to shake.

You extended your hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Billy. I’m y/f/n y/l/n. So you’re the one that swore Mr. Campbell to secrecy?” You asked.

“Ah I knew Luther would be able to keep my secret, although he wanted me to tell you two weeks ago. He can be a little impatient.” Billy said with a warm smile and a slight whisper.

Looking over the tops of his glasses, Mr. Campbell said. “Well don’t talk about me like I’m not here. And do you have something for me, my dear y/n?”

You had completely forgotten about the nip of Jack Daniel’s in your bag that was meant for him so you reached in the bag and set it on the counter.

“Oh!! I am so sorry Mr. Campbell. Here ya go.” You said.

He took the little nip bottle and walked into the back room, behind the counter. He was gone for a few minutes.

“So what do ya say? Will you have a drink with me? I promise, it will be something better than Jack Daniel’s.” Billy said.

You chuckled a little when you heard Mr. Campbell shout from the back room. “I heard that, Billy!”

“I knew you would, sir!” Billy shouted back. “He has the best flowers in town plus he’s a veteran and I like supporting veteran owned businesses.” Billy said.

You couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. They looked like two endless pools of dark chocolate and they weren’t looking at anything except you.

Moving a stray hair away from your face, you replied. “I do too…I have friends and family that are veterans. Did you serve, Billy?”

“Three tours in Iraq…one in Afghanistan.” He said softly, inching closer to you.

Mr. Campbell surprised both of you when he appeared from the back. “Will you two get outta here! You can learn all about each other over a drink…GO! Get out!” He said, practically shooing you out of his shop and handing Billy his flowers.

“Alright, alright Mr. Campbell, we’re going…I’ll see you next week!” You said as you waved and walked out the door with Billy.

“Well? You wanna have that drink with me, y/n?” Billy asked again.

You bit down on your lower lip and glanced at the ground before capturing his gaze again. “I’d love to.” You said. “But I do have to drop these flowers off at home first so they don’t wilt. I live only a couple blocks from here. And it looks like you have flowers to drop off as well. Can I meet you in an hour? Is that enough time?”

Billy smiled. “That’s perfect…don’t you wanna know where I’m going to drop these off?” He asked nervously before opening the door to his car.

“As long as they’re not going to a wife or a girlfriend, it’s really none of my business Billy. But if you wanna tell me, you’re more than welcome to tell me later or another time. It’s up to you.” You said with a welcoming smile.

Billy looked surprised by your answer, he wasn’t expecting it and ultimately it was his decision of whether or not he wanted to tell you where he went every week at this time.

“Well ok then. So I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” He asked.

“I’ll see you in an hour…and Billy?

He looked up so his eyes were locked on yours.

A big smile stretched across your lips as you said “Thank you for my flowers.”

Billy smiled a wide Cheshire cat smile and winked at you. “You’re welcome, y/n and I will see you very soon.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[insomniumstella]

ego’s one hell of a drug (6) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, but also a bit of asshole!bucky and sweet!bucky strangely

word count: 6,205

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

author's note: before writing WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE i always thought that chapter six would be my favorite and … it is haha

The royal blue hue of the vintage Chevy Corvette glimmered underneath the bright sunlight. James was clad in a short sleeve linen shirt with the top buttons undone, exposing the smooth muscle of his upper chest. She could peep the collage of flesh and metal from where she stood outside the hotel’s glass entrance doors, observing the carefree strokes in his expression and the Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. It was an unusual sight; the first time she had ever seen James wearing sunglasses. 

She smiled at him, bewildered by the soldier’s newfound attitude, “is this the surprise?” 

“No,” the corner of his mouth quirked up as he gripped the steering wheel with the metal hand, “it’s an apology.” 

“An apology,” it was a statement hidden underneath a hint of curiosity — she let it die on the tip of her tongue, suspending the silent wonder in the humid air of Hawaii. 

James leaned over to open the passenger’s door without abandoning the vehicle and nodded his head, “an apology for the last however many years I’ve been more than an asshole.” 

“It’s bordering on six.” 

“It’s bordering on six,” he repeated when y/n plopped into the seat, throwing an Iron Man tote bag Tony had given her as a joke last Easter on the floor and kicked it to the side, “but yes, it’s also the surprise.” 

“How’d you know I love Chevys?” 

“Steve,” Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most casual of responses, “and perhaps Natasha, too.” The sergeant admitted, pushing the Ray-Bans higher.

She sat in the vehicle dumbfounded. James Buchanan Barnes was the woman’s finest enemy, the man she had despised for five consecutive years without questioning whether the war between her and Bucky ever had a true reason, and he had just admitted to knowing that her favorite cars were vintage Chevy Corvettes.

“Steve tell you anything else?” 

“He might’ve,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips, “Natasha surely did.” 

“What’d she say?” She questioned, leaning to increase the volume of the refurbished radio. 

“Mentioned you love peaceful rides and hidden coffee shops,” he twisted the ignition key to start the car, the smirk on his mouth refusing to falter, “beaches and happy hours.” 

“Oh, how I love happy hours,” y/n agreed, detaching her own pair of sunglasses from her tank top and planting them on the bridge of her nose to shield herself from the blazing light. 

Maui’s sun was unforgiving in early summer mornings. 

“Good, because we’re going on a real nice drive to search for the best sandwiches and iced lattes Maui has to offer before ending the day with a drink or two.” 

The Maui Resort soon disappeared out of y/n’s view as James stepped on the gas, pursuing a narrow road, and she perched her feet on the leather seat, the sandals long forgotten. 

“Should I open Apple Maps,” she teased, “Google Maps,” her voice faltered for a moment, “Waze?” 

Though the woman had listed plenty of options for navigation, James could only chuckle at her instinctive response, “you genuinely do not trust me, do you?” 

“I say this with all of the love and respect my heart holds for you,” she teased him yet again, “I absolutely do not.” 

“Outstanding,” he shook his head, eyes focused on the road, “makes the journey that more fun.” 

The soldier had been awfully quiet after they had abandoned the SPA for a speedy lunch, and she had chosen to bite her tongue about Nancy, Elijah, and Mark. To James, that was. She had texted Sam as soon as she had reclaimed her iPhone from the locker, crafting a message capable of turning The Falcon into a vigilant agent but harmless enough to keep his fears at bay. 

The gala and the plan had been the lone thing she could focus on. Concern must’ve been visibly engraved into her features because, by the time dinner came, James had forged an awkward yet friendly persona, attempting to devise jokes and distract y/n from her inner turmoil. The man had not been successful, but she was appreciative of his struggles. 

“You wouldn’t drop dead if I slept in the bed tonight, would you?” James had asked once the sun had fallen and the moon had appeared. 

The woman had been too exhausted to argue, and though she hadn’t admitted it out loud, his presence in the bedroom had brought eerie comfort. She had been almost elated he had abandoned the couch for the soft cushions of the suite’s bed.  

Last night, they had not discussed the couple’s massage, which was strange but not stranger than sleeping in a bed together. And sure — the piece of furniture in the lovers’ suite was massive, more than comfortable for two people, and both James and she had plenty of space to move around without making contact, except they had woken up in a tangle of limbs, y/n’s face nestled into James’ chest. 

She had decided to avoid thinking about it too much during breakfast. Instead, her mind had returned to the only legitimate conversation the two had in the prior hours before the night had the chance to border morning. James had suppressed his pride and admitted his faults. To say it had come as a surprise—and a delight— would be an understatement. 

She had nearly sworn the soldier’s words had been a bizarre hallucination because the James she had conceptualized, the mural of a man she had been painting in the past five years, would’ve never willingly confessed to mistakes and defeats.

Except, if Barnes had been able to acknowledge his crimes, she could’ve imagined herself declaring that she had been harsh, too. He had promised y/n a surprise, and she had silently pledged to act visibly grateful about it. Perhaps, sweet even.  

James hadn't mentioned much more of the surprise, but he had succeeded to distract her from it, ripping out a laugh from the woman after presenting the stream of angry messages from his last date, Jennifer, and permitting y/n to read through the furious words. 

She had forgotten about Nancy and the gala then, cackling at James’ exaggerations of the milk switch-up, “I was chained to the godforsaken bathroom for the entirety of the night, y/n.” The disappointed tone in his voice had roughly disguised the honest amusement. “Lonely and drained, and defeated.” 

“Oh James,” she had subconsciously leaned her head on his shoulder, “the texts almost make me want to switch out the almond beverage for whole milk again.”

“The promise,” he had reminded, “I nurtured you after Jordan’s party, and you swore to cease mischievous milk activities.” 

The woman had laughed, the booming sound of it saturating the lovers’ suite, “mischievous milk activities, huh?” James had remained silent, and she had teased him for the ludicrous comment, “you deserve to be punished for using such lines.” 

“Innocent until proven guilty,” he had shrugged. 

“As a woman of great authority,” y/n had angled her face to stare into his eyes, “I pronounce you guilty and decide upon a decade-long sentence.” 

James’ pupils had been blown-wide as he gazed at y/n through hooded eyes, “your honor, there is too little evidence to convict me.” 

The woman had cocked her head to the side as a faux expression of distaste painted her features, “you used a phrase mischievous milk activities, and call me insane, but if that alone wouldn’t get you a ten-year punishment, I have zero clue what would.” 

“Oh, please,” James had leaned against the headboard, “allow me to tell you a story of a ghost they call the Winter Soldier.” 

She had shifted positions, sliding close enough to the man that their thighs had touched, “you’re such a bastard,” the outrage had only been slightly fictitious, “why would you bring that up?” 

“What?” He had rested a single arm on the woman’s shoulders. “Does it raise negative connotations?” 

“Yes,” she had nodded, surprising him, “for one, the Winter Soldier has stabbed me, which took months to heal and recover from, and two,” silence had fallen upon the room for several, drawn-out moments, “the ghost has been replaced with James and I’d hate for you to associate yourself with the assassin.” 

“Doll,” he had sighed, “I was the assassin. There is no way I could ever forget, it has been engraved into my existence. The title of the Winter Soldier will forever haunt me, no matter how much I run.” 

“You’re quite big,” she had assessed, seemingly off-topic, “not that great of a runner.” 

“Alright,” he had chuckled, maneuvering under the covers and turning off the night light, “goodnight.” 

James’ tone had not held resentment or annoyance and she had allowed sleep to steal her away from the world of the conscious and into the world of the dormant without saying anything else. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: the gala is this Sunday.

The woman raked her eyes over Sam’s words. At the beginning of the week, she would’ve been more than happy to abandon the honeymoon in exchange for a mission, but as she stared at the phone screen, the Falcon confirming y/n’s uncertainty, she couldn’t help the eerie sadness from slithering its way into her heart. The two were set to leave on Monday, and Friday had sneakily crept in, drawing the end of the vacation closer than she would’ve enjoyed. A coin has two sides, she reminded herself. It was not the time to wallow in self-pity over the loss of two blissful days. 

The unexpected encounter with Nancy had created space for an opportunity to save Steve and bust Elijah, bringing the remains of HYDRA, Mark, and perhaps other operatives, with him. She could enjoy today and leave as early as tomorrow morning. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: I managed to get us on the guest list. 

BEST AVENGER: thank you. 

She hoped Sam wouldn’t think of asking further questions.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: are we going there to bust HYDRA officers, or is there another reason you won’t say? 

The spy’s prayers were not heard. 

BEST AVENGER: no other reason:)

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to be on that stupid phone the whole day?” James’ voice was a lost sound in the unruly wind. “I didn’t drive an hour for nothin’, doll.” He shouted. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: you’re aware the smiley face makes the text seem highly suspicious?

Somewhere amidst the fabricated stories and his genuine feelings, the soldier had gotten comfortable using the nickname for the girl, as if it had always belonged to her and as if the couple’s history had not been riddled with petty fights and strange hatred. 

BEST AVENGER: whaaaaaat:) 

“It’s Sam!” She yelled, shutting the passenger’s door and sprinting to meet James where he stood on the shore. The sand clawed at her feet, attempting to swallow y/n’s every step, and she was out of breath by the time she reached the soldier. The look on Bucky’s face begged for an explanation. “Sam wants us to attend the charity gala.” 

“It’s this Sunday, right?” James questioned. 

“Mmmh,” she hummed in agreement, paying very little attention. 

Eyes glued on the screen, y/n awaited the Falcon’s response. 

SAM THE MIGHTY AVENGER: Steve wants to train in 5. 

SAM THE MIGHTY AVENGER: should I inform the Captain of our plans?:)

He might’ve been teasing y/n, but she wasn’t willing to take risky chances.

“No,” James shook his head in annoyance, “tell Sam we’re not attending the gala because our flight leaves on Monday,” his hand encased her wrist, stopping y/n from typing, “and for the love of god, put this away.” There was no doubt his tone implied that her phone would soon end up in the ocean if she didn’t hide it. 

“Bucky,” she snatched her wrists away from his hold, “all I need is a second,” only the word desperate could’ve been used to describe her voice. 

The man towered over the girl dumbfounded. Did y/n just call me Bucky?

She stood with her face buried in the glass screen, accidentally shielding herself from James’ flustered expression. The woman very rarely, if ever, called the soldier Bucky. It had always been limited to James or Barnes, or asshole if he had done something particularly malicious to anger her, but never Bucky, and especially never Bucky willingly. On a scarce occasion, y/n would address him as Sergeant, respecting the title he had earned in the forties, but Bucky was reserved for Steve, and Sam disappointingly, who oftentimes used the name to mock the soldier, jealous of the Captain’s favoritism. Even Tony had used the nickname several times, or Natasha, but y/n was weary of it, afraid it bounded on the territory of friendship. 

BEST AVENGER: DON’T YOU DARE.

BEST AVENGER: Sam, I’m BEGGING.

BEST AVENGER: those smiley faces do look suspicious, though.  

Pink had crept onto his cheeks, yet James remained nonchalant on the outside, counting second after second, “six, seven, eight—“

SAM THE MIGHTY AVENGER: I trust you, but I’m not an idiot, y/n. 

Sam was right. It was outlandish to believe he wouldn’t see through her dishonesty, except she couldn’t bring herself to put Elijah’s plans into visible words, and so the message was left blank. The moving dots on Sam’s screen vanished as she removed her fingers from the glass, turning the iPhone off, and shoved it into the back pocket of her denim shorts.  

“The counting was unnecessary,” she forced a laugh, “besides, I’m all yours now.” 

“Good,” he nodded, forcing the words I’m all yours to vacate his head, “because the coffee shop is a fifteen-minute walk away, and I was hoping to enjoy the scenic view together.” 

She took a step back, glancing around. If her nose had not been buried in the gadget, she would’ve noticed the golden sand and crystal waters. “It is beautiful.” 

“Yes,” he shrugged, the smallest of smirks dancing on his lips, “it’s Maui.”

“New York City can be spectacular,” she argued, half lightheartedly, “but one wouldn’t say it’s scenic because it’s New York.” 

“Is it possible,” James was ready to call out her bluff, “you’re picking an unnecessary fight because you’re uncomfortable with my friendliness?”

She stared at him in disbelief before her gaze dropped to his lips and the smirk upon them, “no,” she narrowed her eyes, “maybe,” y/n’s gaze returned to his amused face, and she suddenly admitted defeat, “yes.” 

“Should I insult you?” James cocked his head to the side. “Leave you on the beach in the middle of nowhere?” His hand had slithered its way to her waist as an invitation to start walking. She didn’t make an effort to remove his touch. “Make you pay for our sandwiches?” 

The last question took her by surprise, “that doesn’t sound terrible. Tony forgot to reclaim his credit card after he let me use it, so technically our lunch would be on him.” 

“We’re in Hawaii,” he reminded, “the food’s expensive here.”

“Are you threatening me with …. the cost of living, Barnes?” She threw a puzzled look his way, traces of merriment clawing at its edges. “Officially color me confused.” 

James suddenly paused, beginning to walk just as quickly as he had halted. “I want the hostility between us gone, but you’re not exactly the easiest person to make amends with,” he admitted. 

She had managed to restrain herself against a sarcastic remark. James desired an end to the interminable war between a soldier and a spy, and though she would decidedly miss the petty arguments, y/n was exhausted. Exhausted from the nasty fights, and the murderous comments, drained from the burden of clashing with James in parallel with actual missions, which mattered because they saved lives, and on unusual occasions, the world, too. She liked to tell herself that, anyway. 

“Amends, it is.” 

“This building does not resemble the photos whatsoever,” James snickered, peering at the woman. 

The soldier had paid for the sandwiches and the coffee despite y/n’s finest attempts at convincing the man to use Tony’s card. The two had argued about it, as they often would, but she had been left without a bitter taste in her mouth afterward. It was strange, yet pleasant. Amicable James was far better than mean James. 

“Mmmh,” she reluctantly agreed, staring at a dive bar at best and an abandoned hut at worst, “but Google says it has great desserts and round-the-clock happy hour.” 

The wooden sign outside helped solidify the statement. Though the chalk had almost disappeared, she could read Aloha’s offer. 

What’s better than $4 Margaritas? $6 Mai Tais!

“I trusted you,” James shook his head, following y/n inside, “and this is what you led us to?” 

They had spent the morning at the beach, indulging in iced lattes and fluffy bread. James had packed their swimsuits, which had both shocked and terrified y/n, as he had managed to sneak into her underwear drawer without detection, but she had surrendered to his request of a swim after he had driven the two to a secret waterfall he had learned about from a random local. 

The swim had been refreshing, and as she allowed the cool water to caress her skin, she had found herself forgetting about Mark and Elijah's plans. Maui’s nature had turned HYDRA into a distant memory she’d soon have to remember but could briefly ignore. There was consolation in understanding that she’d never be truly alone, for she would always have mother nature by her side. 

“Stop whining,” she playfully hit Bucky in the shoulder and immediately regretted it as her flesh hit metal, ouch, “this is great.” 

It was not great, judging by James' inflated expectations, for which she might've been at fault, as she had described the bar to be ritzy and delightful, but y/n found herself falling in love with the space. Granted, it was barely past two in the afternoon, and yet the establishment was peculiarly empty, creating an opportunity for unrestrained conversations. 

Everything had been touched by age, too. The woman could’ve run her fingers across the heavy tables, observed the intricate light fixtures, or flipped through a stack of books in the corner — the bar had been well-loved through generations. Even the menu, stained and peeling at the corners, seemed eerily familiar as if Google had led them to a place of forgotten coziness by fate. 

“Aloha!” The sound of a man’s voice rang through the space. Judging by his boyish features, she had decided the bartender couldn’t be older than twenty-one. “What can I get you?” 

“A pitcher of Margaritas,” James cut straight to the chase before angling his body toward her, “what did Google say the best dessert here was?” 

“Grilled pineapples and cheesecake,” the employee answered before y/n had the chance to speak, smiling at the couple.

“Right,” she threw him a friendly grin in return, “let us get that, too.” 

The original pitcher had turned empty an hour ago and as y/n leisurely, but assuredly made her way through the second jug alone, she had found herself listening instead of talking. 

James had noticed her peculiar silence and had tried to compensate the awkwardness with random stories, dancing around the particular topic they should’ve discussed. The memory hung in the atmosphere, so heavy it was almost suffocating. 

The soldier’s next words were a breath of poisonous air, “we cannot ignore the couple’s massage, y/n.” 

She paused mid-chew, raising her eyes to meet his, and loudly swallowed the bite of cheesecake, “I’d prefer if we did.” 

“Look,” his speech halted as James rummaged through his brain, the visions of y/n, bare and vulnerable underneath his rough palms, igniting a traitorous fire within his heart, “I could’ve stopped,” Bucky stared at her, observing the nervous habit of pushing food around the plate rather than eating it, “you could’ve stopped me,” the sentence died on the tip of his tongue, remaining unfinished. 

“I could’ve,” she agreed, licking the fork clean, “you could’ve, it’s pointless to wonder what could’ve been.” The fork hit the ceramic dish with a booming sound when it slipped from y/n’s fingers. “The massage happened, and we cannot change the fact it did.” 

“Yes,” James nodded, neck sizzling hot with approaching frustration, “but that’s the thing — we never had to go through with it in the first place.” She pursed her lips together, and he continued speaking. “We chose to attend the activity, and we did it willingly.” 

She shook her head, sighing. James could feel the annoyance clawing at the entirety of his body, rearing its ugly head as it often did if he spent time around the woman. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

It doesn’t mean anything, he scoffed at the foolishness of y/n’s words, does she think I’m that naive? 

James settled into the chair, perching his clasped hands on the wooden surface. If she wanted to mistake him for an idiot, he’d give into the woman’s game. “Why’d you return the favor?” 

“What?” She gawked at him in incredulity. 

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, “why’d you massage me?” 

 The spy had caught on, narrowing her eyes, “I wanted to learn.” 

“Lani had left the room long before,” he snickered, “there was little learning for you to do, doll.” 

James was correct. She couldn’t deny that the masseuse had abandoned the space, leaving the two entirely alone, way before James had kneaded her thighs and buttocks, and before she had offered to return the favor, sliding her gentle hands across his smooth skin. It had been therapeutic, almost, to melt away the knots in his shoulders and biceps, and when he had shifted to lay on his back, y/n had found herself concentrating on his defined Adonis belt far longer than she should’ve if she desired to retain her lust for the man a secret. 

A low groan escaped from y/n’s throat, “it was educational,” she lied. 

“Educational?” 

“Mmmh,” she hummed, toying with the edge of the dessert plate they had shared, “I’ve never, umm, intimately touched the Winter Soldier, or, you know, anyone with a … metal arm?” y/n had not craved for her tone to convert into that of a question, and she silently cursed. 

“You’ve never caressed the Winter Soldier, huh?” He chuckled, leaning back in the woven chair. “C’mon, you have always been an exceptional liar.” 

“OK,” she averted her gaze, hoping to find comfort in the dirty menu. 

The Rumors Are True — our $12 nachos are back!

James didn’t entirely desire to pester her. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he had remembered Steve’s words, and Steve was a righteous man with great judgment. Bucky trusted Steve, honestly and endlessly, and depended on the Captain’s help to navigate the future he had suddenly reclaimed. 

Except, what could Steve, a person too shy to invite Natasha on a date, understand of James’ intricate emotions and desires towards y/n? Steve belonged to a world without gray. Details had always been either good or bad, black or white, and the space in the middle had never existed to the hero. 

James was no hero, no, he resided in a world full of gray. The two might’ve been best of pals, but they were of different genetics. Once upon a time, James too had lived during simpler days, where the Red Skull was a villain, and he had been the savior without an opportunity for doubts, but that perfect world had slipped from his grasp, and whereas Steve had remained the same, Bucky had changed. He had taken lives just as he had saved them. He had been a devil just as he had been an angel, and if pestering y/n would scratch the bothersome itch of curiosity underneath his skin, so it’d be. 

“We’ll always have Maui,” a smirk waltzed on his lips as he curved the conversation in a slightly different direction. 

The reference puzzled her, “what?” 

“We could have a lot more than memories though.” It was bold, and it was terrifying, and he had allowed the words to roll off his tongue without much consideration. 

“James,” she closed her eyes, frustrated by his perseverance, “would it make you feel better if I admitted to enjoying the massage?” The woman questioned without an ounce of sarcasm in her voice. “What is it that you want from me, sergeant?” 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: Steve was informed of our gala plans. 

“Honesty,” James confessed, “because our lives are riddled with lies, so yes, for once, all I yearn for is honesty.” Traces of annoyance stained his tone, and y/n’s nose, buried in the iPhone, managed to fuel his irritation. 

BEST AVENGER: plans as in Steve knows we will attend or plans as in Steve knows about Mark?

SAM THE FALCON: plans as in Steve knows we will attend. 

BEST AVENGER: is he angry? 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: no.  

Though she was startled by Sam’s message, she had managed to detect the change in James’ body language and the gruffness in his voice. It only ignited her own irritation further. 

Perhaps the soldier was correct — the faux honeymoon had destroyed the space of comfort they had once shared, and perhaps, yes, she had noticed an absence of useless arguments and death stares, but it couldn’t mean anything. She’d betray herself if it did. A woman doesn’t fall in love with a man who had belittled, discredited, and crushed her. James had been pleasant to be around lately, sure, bringing breakfast and ordering champagne before she even had the chance to ask during their late-night sessions of cracking Elijah’s case, but a couple good deeds cannot undo the five prior years of maliciousness. She had to convince herself his newfound attitude could never erase their past, and she had to do it quick, for she was terrified of letting go the last bit of control she had been holding on to. 

“I enjoyed the massage,” she shrugged, pursing her lips. The sentence was short and sweet, and she had nothing else to say, diverting her eyes back to the phone screen. 

BEST AVENGER: good. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: he’s excited we’re taking initiative to mingle with government officials, but he wanted to know what spurred our sudden change of heart. 

BEST AVENGER: what’d you tell him? 

James dragged the flesh palm across his face. Undoubtedly, he had not been the best at expressing his thoughts ever since the accident. HYDRA had contorted the man into an emotionless assassin who destroyed everything in his path with a simple command. Those days were behind him, and if he allowed himself to dream, even a little, he’d dream for y/n in the entirety of who she was. The woman’s mind, heart, and body. It hurt because it had always taken two to tango; he had never been solely responsible for the war between them. She was wicked smart, and she could see through his attempts of candor, eagerly ignoring James’ troubles to play the fool’s part. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: we heard rumors about the reimplementation of the Sokovia Accords and want to speak with Thaddeus Ross to ease our concerns. 

BEST AVENGER: did he believe you? 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: no. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: we’re going there for the Miley Cyrus performance. 

She chuckled at his response. It was not until that moment that y/n realized how terribly she had missed Sam and his calming presence. 

BEST AVENGERS: it’s a good thing we blasted her Plastic Hearts album on repeat for the last three months. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: about that, I might’ve promised Steve we’ll stop if he won’t alert Tony that we use his credit card without permission.

“What does Sam want again?” The sovereignty had returned to James’ tone as he abandoned the hardship of a sincere conversation with the woman. It was difficult enough to watch y/n switch into a friend for the Falcon. 

BEST AVENGER: I’m willing to take that loss. 

“James,” she sighed, turning the phone off and placing it screen down on the table, “there’s something I need to tell you.” The spy swallowed the lump in her throat, toying with an empty Margarita glass. 

“I’m all ears.” He cocked his head to the side as the walls around him suddenly shattered. 

James stared at her, eyes wide and curious, and stupidly hopeful she’d confess she had fallen for him, too. Stop dancing around the topic, woman.

She had almost dropped the act, guilt settling at the pit of her stomach. Respectable women couldn’t allow themselves to fall for men who had treated them as meanly as James had treated her, but respectable women wouldn’t engage in frivolous wars, and she had; both were to blame for the history between them. 

It wouldn’t matter. The words threatening to escape would soon hold no weight because she had bitten her tongue after she had overheard Nancy, choosing to bust Elijah alone. She had stolen James’ goals of demolishing HYDRA’s remains, and she had lied the prior night when he had fervently boasted of serving the politician the justice he deserved. They’d soon return to their old ways, visiting the border of nemeses and co-workers, and the honeymoon would turn into a dreadful memory. We’ll always have Maui, y/n reflected on his sentiment.

 “HYDRA is gone,” she blurted out.  

James had very little time to ponder over his crushed hopes, “that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is.” She leaned back in the chair as if to escape the intensity of his scowl. “Sam and I were texting because Elijah plans to eliminate Steve at the charity gala,” she paused, briefly closing her eyes, “with Mark Basso, a former HYDRA operative.” 

James forced a laugh before drawing his lower lip between his teeth, “why would Elijah want Steve dead?” The tone of his voice stunk of mockery. 

“HYDRA is gone,” she repeated, hoping the words would register in his thick skull, “except for a few independent members whom Elijah works with.” 

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” his expression hardened, “but it’s a stupid theory.” It had taken a single moment for James to revert back to his old ways of discrediting y/n’s abilities. 

“It’s not a theory, James,” she huffed out in annoyance, “I’m leaving this evening to attend the gala.” 

“If you wanted to cut the vacation short, you could’ve just asked.”

The woman pursed her lips together, dropping her gaze to the menu. 

Made fresh, always. 

Bucky’s words stung more than they should’ve. 

The pretend honeymoon had forever ruined y/n, for she had gotten a delicious bite of an authentic James Buchanan Barnes, and she desired another taste. The woman had realized she needed the man just as the moon needed the sun, but if betraying James was to save Steve's life, she'd betray him once more in a heartbeat. 

Whispers of guilt and sorrow colored her tone, "I'm sorry." 

The simple words obscured an unspoken secret, and James' illusion of a truce shattered. The spy had pursued the goal of revenge alongside James, it had not been a mistake, it had been ignorance to overlook the blazing fire to demolish HYDRA within him. Bucky had hoped she trusted him, but not only had she just ridiculed his opinion of the organization's existence, she had obtained a crucial piece of information and unabashedly hidden it. 

The sergeant suppressed his anger, swallowing the lump in his throat, "how'd you find out Elijah plots to assassinate Steve?" 

"It was after the massage," she slid to the edge of her seat, facing Bucky head-on despite the remorse prickling at her skin, "it was overwhelming, the gentle caresses of your hands and the scent of your cologne, I needed fresh air to clear my head," y/n admitted. 

"Mmmh," James urged y/n to continue the story despite the wave of unrecognized emotions crashing over him, but hastily spoke before she had the chance to, "didn't Wanda request you give her a call?" 

The woman's silence replaced the word no. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, deciding whether a raw confession would do them any good after the heap of lies, "it was you whom I needed to escape because your touch had me utterly too hot and troubled, and hell," she drew in a shallow breath, "it was terrifying to accept that I might've started crushing on the Winter Soldier, and so I wandered around the SPA, and—"

James sighed, placing a hand on y/n's forearm, "inhale, please." 

She took in a breath, much deeper than the last, "Lani guided me to a terrace, it was empty besides a random woman, she was in a formal conversation before it turned into gossip," his touch was simultaneously comforting and poignant, "the cocoon chair shielded her face, but it was evident the woman was Nancy." 

"Nancy?"

"Yes," the clench of his jaw didn't go unobserved by y/n, "I haven't got the faintest idea of who she could've been chatting with, though. Nancy mentioned Elijah's gala plans to murder Steve, and I abandoned the area soon after." 

A moment of tense stillness settled upon them. 

"Why the fuck wouldn't you inform me of this last night, y/n?" James' words dripped with poison. 

"James—"

The sergeant abruptly prevented y/n from speaking further, "you cannot hide shit like this, we had a promise to unravel fresh leads together."

"James!" She raised her voice to match his sound level. "In that stubborn mind of yours, do you truly believe HYDRA continues to exist?" She spoke again when his silence confirmed her concerns, "HYDRA is gone, and I understand it might be hard for you to concede, but it doesn't change the fact." 

The spy and the soldier could never be friends, and they could never be lovers, for James would always disregard her abilities, and she would always turn to bitterness as a coping mechanism. Neither Bucky nor y/n craved change; it was uncertain. The bubble of mutual dislike was safe, and it was comforting. She shouldn’t have hidden her intentions, she understood, but she had to conceal the suspicions because James wasn’t the easiest of people to trust. The man had lived through countless wars and was too stubborn to admit his battle plans could ever have flaws. 

"Elijah wouldn't kill Steve," he dryly chuckled, "he isn't bold enough for such a crime, which, assumingly, discredits the theories you've created." 

"Mark would," she shrugged nonchalantly, "he's HYDRA's fallen agent." James averted his gaze away from y/n's prying eyes. "Mark Basso had been erased from history, discarded after the organization fell. Did you know the man's identified as deceased in every fucking one of our files, James? The same fucking man, whom we had just conversed with on the godforsaken boat, is identified as dead." James hated y/n's habit of emphasizing certain words during arguments. 

Perhaps she was right, and HYDRA ceased to exist, but he wouldn't admit defeat. Doubtfulness had always been easier to express than trust. 

"We're partners, doll," his remark surprised her, "we have worked on Elijah's case for the past four days, not to mention the eight months we had slaved unraveling his personal and professional endeavors, so why would you withhold the information about Mark Basso?" 

"Alright," she drummed her fingers on the wooden table, "to be frank, I assumed you recognized him just as I did." 

"Oh," he emulated the woman, "because I'm the Winter Soldier?" 

"Yeaaaah," the sound was drawn-out and squeaky, "that is actually the exact reason," she grimaced in faux discomfort. 

James raked his eyes over her face, briefly dropping his gaze to y/n's pursed lips, "I will not be attending the gala," he declared, standing up. 

She remained seated, neatly placing a fifty-dollar note on the table, "wouldn't have guessed you would." 

"Elijah Williamson is collaborating with HYDRA to reimplement Project Insight," he shrugged, gawking at her as if the intensity of his stare would miraculously compel y/n to accept his rusted, empty-of-solid-evidence, theory. 

She didn't falter, and he turned to evacuate the bar. 

The sergeant didn't check whether she trailed after him, and y/n swiftly leaped from the chair — James could slander her instincts for all she cared, but she'd suck on Tony's dirty toes before she would tolerate Bucky abandoning her in the middle of nowhere. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: Attachment: 1 Image

James had started the car when Sam's text lit up y/n's phone screen. She perched her bare feet on the dashboard, much to Bucky's dismay, yet he was too distracted by anger to form an audible complaint, and eagerly clicked on the notification. 

BEST AVENGER: a simple gown would've sufficed. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: for an ordinary guest, yes. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: a prize in the charity auction demands a spectacular dress, though:)

TAGS:

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[fics-n-stuff]

And They Were Roommates

Pairing: Steve × Eddie

Summary: After moving in together, Steve and Eddie start to realise that they might like each other a little more than they had thought until one night, with the help of just a little weed, it all comes to a head.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Drug use (just weed)

A/N: I've had writers block for literally two years at this point it's so hard to just finish a fic. I have so many WIPS staring back at me every time I open google docs. If you like this fic I'm begging please let me know because I'm starting to doubt my writing ability 😭

Eddie was starting to regret moving in with Steve. He felt guilty about the fact, because Steve was the perfect housemate - he was clean and caring, respectful of boundaries and good company - but Eddie was struggling. Not because of anything that Steve had done wrong, honestly Eddie was unsure if Steve was capable of doing anything wrong, but because he did too many things right. Steve cooked dinner for them both when Eddie was too busy or too tired, he baked as a hobby so Eddie always had fresh treats to pack into his lunch, he always put Eddie's laundry in when he was doing a wash and sometimes even specifically did laundry because Eddie had let it pile up. He reminded Eddie to take his meds every day, used his employee discount to rent movies on the weekends, and never complained when Eddie spent hours playing his guitar.

Eddie was falling for Steve. He was falling hard.

They were coming up on six months of living together in their cozy little house when Eddie thought he might reach his breaking point. He had slept through his alarm and panicked, thinking that he was going to be late for work. He threw on his clothes, brushed his teeth and threw his hair up into the messiest bun he'd ever done, and was ready to race out the door.

"Don't forget your lunch!" Steve called from the kitchen, stopping Eddie on his way to the front door.

"Steve, I don't have time. I-" he cut himself off as he turned to see Steve appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, Eddie's old metal lunchbox in one hand and his thermos in the other. The thermos itself had been a gift from Steve after Eddie had complained one too many times about not having enough time to drink a proper amount of coffee in the morning (and refusing to wake up any earlier).

"I gathered." Steve smiled, and lifted his arms to hold Eddie's stuff out to him. "Don't worry, I got you."

"Uh, okay. Thanks, Stevie." Eddie said, awkwardly lurching forward to grab the stuff from his hands. 

"Did you take your meds?"

"Yeah, yes, I did. I'll, uh, see you tonight."

"See you tonight. Have a good day at work." Steve replied, before promptly disappearing back into the kitchen. Eddie took half a second to regather his thoughts, looking down at the lunchbox and thermos in his hands in mild disbelief, before quickly getting back on track and leaving for work.

When he sat down for his lunch break that day, coveralls pulled down and secured with the sleeves tied around his waist in an attempt to combat the heat in the shop, he found a post-it note stuck to the inside of the lid of his lunchbox. With an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, he plucked the note from the box and held it up to read.

Six months and this is the first time you've slept through your alarm. I'm shocked, Eds. Hope I packed you a decent lunch :)

Eddie smiled, his chest warm as he folded the note and tucked it back into the lunchbox. Steve had packed him a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, some carrot and celery sticks with hummus, and one of his homemade blueberry muffins. It was more thought than Eddie put into his own lunch most days, he usually just grabbed the first thing he saw in the fridge.

Eddie was falling for Steve because Steve took care of him. Eddie wasn't used to being taken care of like this. Eddie wasn't sure that he wanted to be taken care of if it meant feeling whatever it was that he was feeling for Steve. It didn't seem fair that he could fall so utterly head over heels without Steve even trying.

And Steve hadn't been trying. Not really. He took care of Eddie because he liked to, but also because it just made things easy. He did the laundry because he liked things to be clean, he reminded Eddie to take his meds because treating his ADHD made him less of a hurricane, he cooked and baked and rented movies because it was fun. Steve was good at taking care of people, he had a knack for it. All the things you had to do to take care of people came naturally to him.

Steve wasn't sure he'd made a better decision in his life than moving in with Eddie. He had stayed living at his parents' house for far too long and finally getting out of there gave him space to breathe.

Nancy had helped him find the house. Hawkins wasn't a town that exactly had apartment buildings; there were big houses, small houses and trailers. Nancy was the one who found it, a two bed one bath in a quiet part of town with decently low rent.

Steve had been the one to propose the idea to Eddie. Eddie, who was fine living with his uncle but was ready to be independent, and had recently secured a decent paying job at the auto shop in the next town over, had gone for the idea. And then they moved in together. And it was great. And Eddie was great. Suddenly, Steve realised that Eddie was so great. He was passionate and emotive and energetic, Steve loved to listen to him talk and loved to listen to him play guitar.

Every morning Steve got up and waited for Eddie to come crashing out of his bedroom. Every night he sat on the couch and waited for Eddie to burst through the front door. Every weekend he rented a movie or two so that he'd have an excuse to spend time with Eddie. And it was tough sharing a space with a person that he had become so enamoured with. But he wouldn't want it any other way. He liked reminding him to take his meds every day, and he liked gently nagging him to keep the place clean, and he liked the way he always smiled so wide when Steve cooked dinner or baked a fresh batch of sweet treats. Living with Eddie was perfect.

Steve was working the Friday night closing shift, so it was one of those days that Eddie actually got home first. He was hanging upside down off the couch watching TV when Steve kicked the front door shut and pulled off his jacket.

"Hey! Good day?" Steve called. Eddie hummed noncommittally in reply, haphazardly reaching into a bowl of chips that was sat on the floor and stuffing his mouth with some.

"You rent a movie?" He asked.

"Yeah, three of em." Steve nodded, kicking off his shoes in the entrance way before stepping into the living room. "You wanna watch one tonight?"

"Nah, let's save em for the weekend." 

"Okay. You eaten yet?"

"Nah." Eddie said, and paused slightly before continuing, "Wanna get high?"

"Sure, why not." Steve shrugged after a moment. "I'm not working tomorrow." Eddie flashed him a grin before turning himself right side up and making room for Steve on the couch. "You wanna order a pizza? I didn't prep anything and I don't wanna start cooking now."

"I'm always up for pizza, Harrington."

"Awesome. I'll order the food, you roll the joint."

"Perfect."

They both got up from the couch in unison, Steve heading to the draw by the phone where they kept all the takeout menus and Eddie heading to his room to retrieve his stash. They reunited by the back door five minutes later, pizza ordered and joint in hand.

"Two whole hours." Steve complained as Eddie lit up. "I will never get over it. I hate Friday and Saturday closing shifts, why the hell do we have to be open an extra two hours?"

"Because Friday and Saturday nights are when people wanna go get their movies." Eddie replied, smoke rising from his lips as he passed the joint to Steve.

"Yeah, well, I hate it."

"Yeah, I know." Eddie chuckled, used to hearing a version of this rant every time Steve worked a Friday or Saturday closing shift. "Hey, uh, thanks for packing my lunch today. But I think you might have done too good a job at it."

"Huh? What does that mean?" Steve questioned.

"The new guy at work, Freddie, he asked if my wife packed my lunch for me."

Steve choked halfway through an inhale, quickly passing the joint back to Eddie before he doubled over with his coughs. 

"Shit, sorry." He managed after a few seconds of coughing. "I, um… what did you say? Yaknow, when he said that."

"Uh, I laughed and then I told him the truth. I overslept and my housemate packed it, coz he's nice like that." Eddie smiled. He watched Steve to make sure that he was okay after his coughing fit and took an extra long pull of the joint. "He gave me a funny look, but he said it was sweet."

"What kind of funny look? Like a surprised funny look or a disgusted funny look?"

"I don't know. We were cool the rest of the day though." 

"Hm."

They smoked the rest of the joint in silence, finishing up just a little before the pizza arrived. Steve answered the door, paid the delivery boy and brought it back to the couch where Eddie had already melted into the cushions.

"You sure you don't want to watch one of the movies tonight? I rented Eraserhead just for you." Steve said. Eddie made a shocked wailing sound around the slice of pizza in his mouth and spun to face Steve.

"You rented a freaky scifi horror for me? And you plan on watching it with me?" He exclaimed.

"Well, we did also just get in our first copies of Top Gun and I was planning on making you watch that with me tomorrow so… it's more of a compensation." Steve replied with an amused smile.

"Deal." Eddie nodded enthusiastically, holding his hand out to Steve, who laughed as he shook it. "You wanna smoke another one? I'm thinking I could do with a bit more of a buzz."

"Not if you wanna watch Eraserhead tonight."

"Well, what's the third movie you got?"

"Airplane."

"Oh, we can definitely watch that stoned." Eddie grinned. "Come on, Stevie! Smoke another joint with me. I'll have most of it, promise!"

"Okay, fine!" Steve relented with a light laugh. "Go open the window and put on the movie."

"Yay!" Eddie cheered like a child, springing up from the sofa. He scurried to open up both of the nearby windows, retrieved the tape from Steve's bag that he'd left by the door and popping it into the VCR, and came back to the couch producing his little tin from his pocket.

"You know, you could just smoke on your own." Steve said.

"I could, but social smoking is better." Eddie argued, flipping his lighter in his hand and smiling around the joint between his lips. "And it's a good way to get you to chill out, you collect a lot of stress through the week." To punctuate his point, he plucked the joint from his mouth and held it to Steve's. Steve, whose hands were occupied with tearing apart two partly cut slices of pizza, parted his lips to accept the joint.

"I'm not that bad." He protested. "Go get your ashtray, we're not gonna be able to eat the pizza if we can't put down the joint."

"Yessir." Eddie chimed, rolling over the back of the couch like a chaos gremlin to go get the ashtray from his bedroom.

They ate their pizza and watched the movie, laughing a bit louder and a bit longer than was really necessary. Eddie rambled as they played rock paper scissors after the film ended, telling Steve about his day very overdramatically and not noticing how closely Steve was watching his every move. Steve was always quiet when he got high, which was the complete opposite of Eddie who somehow managed to talk even more when under the influence, so Eddie wasn't too off put by his lack of responses.

"I've got the munchies, what's in the kitchen?" Eddie asked, grabbing Steve's hand as he wrapped paper around rock.

"Hmm, not much." Steve mumbled in reply. "We've got some pretzels. There's the muffins, and the sugar cookies from last weekend." Eddie puffed his cheeks out and rocked backwards before leaning forward into Steve's space.

"I love living with a baker." He smiled dopily before quickly getting to his feet, reaching down to Steve with grabby hands to pull him up as well. "Come on Stevie, to the kitchen we go." 

Steve took the hands offered to him and let himself be pulled up off the floor, let himself be led by the hand into the kitchen, let his arms be wrapped around Eddie's shoulders like a scarf as the other opens the cabinet where they keep the snacks. 

"You want some pretzels?" Eddie questioned as he pulled down the bag, his other hand still holding Steve's where he'd placed it hanging at his chest. Steve replied with a hum that meant no, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder. "We have half a bag of chips left, you want that?" Another hummed no. "Okay, more for me." Eddie shrugged, grabbing the chips and closing the cabinet. He shuffled them over slightly to grab a plate before opening up the tins on the counter and filling the plate with muffins and sugar cookies. Then, he unwrapped Steve's arms from his shoulders and turned to face him, a sudden air of seriousness about him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Steve nodded.

"You sure? 'Cause you seem… thoughtful."

"I'm high."

"Yeah but it's a different kind of quiet than usual."

Trust Eddie to pick up on the most minute inconsistency in Steve's demeanor.

"Just…" Steve started thoughtfully, trying to arrange his words in his swirling mind. "Did you ever think you'd be so… domestic?" Eddie blinked.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." He replied with a chuckle.

"Like… when I was a teenager I just kind of thought that I would inevitably end up like my dad. And then I was with Nancy and I started thinking maybe I could have something a little different; a marriage that wasn't loveless, a family I actually care about. But when all the Upside Down stuff happened, and it just kept coming back, it started to feel like I could never have a normal life. But now here we are, living in a normal house, going to work every day and just… living." Steve explained. "I didn't think I would ever get here, and I have no idea where I go from here."

"Well, wherever you want to go, Stevie." Eddie said with such a sweet authenticity that it made Steve feel emotional. He leaned forward to rest his head on Eddie's shoulder with a sigh, and Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve to pull him close. "It's not easy. I mean, Nancy's had her whole future planned out for years and even she got shaken by the Upside Down shit. I never second guessed persuing my music before but months in the hospital got me out of habit with it and I doubted that I could. You know that, you were the one who convinced me not to quit the band. We figured it out, you will too. We'll figure it out together." He moved one hand up to Steve's hair, twisting his fingers through the thick strands and stroking his scalp with his fingertips. Steve sighed and leaned into the touch.

"Okay." He breathed.

Eddie took a deep, hopefully discreet, breath. It wasn't often that Steve showed this vulnerable side of himself, and Eddie was proud that he showed it to him. For all that Steve did to take care of other people, Eddie especially, he didn't often let people take care of him. Eddie learned how to do it in small ways, making sure to regularly ask him how he was feeling and helping him unwind at the end of the work week, not to mention telling the kids to leave him alone for a bit if he was seeming overwhelmed or in need of a break. But this, holding Steve in his arms and giving him advice about something serious, was something he didn't get to do often. And he already loved Steve when he was coasting along nonchalantly downplaying his negative feelings for the benefit of the people around him, but when he opened up and let someone else see what he was really feeling? Eddie could feel his heart melting. 

"You're doing a good job just as you are right now, Stevie. You know that right?"

Now it was Steve's turn to feel his heart melt. Or maybe that was the weed. Either way, he didn't know when he started leaning on Eddie like this but now it was like Eddie had a magic effect on him. His voice, his touch, just being in the same room with him, it always made Steve feel more at ease. He let himself enjoy the feeling of Eddie's fingers in his hair for a few moments longer before pulling back from his hold and standing up straight.

Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was Eddie's big brown eyes, maybe it was the way that Eddie's hands lingered on his waist, but Steve was blurting out the words before his mind could tell his lips to stop.

"Eddie, I love you." He heard his own voice before he realised he was speaking. Then he panicked, and he couldn't stop himself from continuing. "I- I mean, I think I might be falling in love with you. And I- I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, but you're just so great. And we're really good friends and I don't wanna ruin that, and if you don't feel the same - I mean, you probably don't feel the same - you can just tell me and I'll never bring it up again."

Eddie was stunned. He stood completely still, staring at Steve as he continued to ramble, cheeks turning red as he blushed more with every word he spoke. If he wasn't high maybe he would be quicker to respond, but it was like Eddie's brain was ticking so slowly he could barely keep up with the words coming out Steve's mouth. Steve's mouth that he found himself staring at.

Steve was still rambling when Eddie grabbed his face in both hands and cut him off by pressing their lips together. Steve let out a surprised yelp as he was cut off mid word, his hands instinctively going to grab Eddie's hips as he returned the kiss.

This was the moment.

When Eddie pulled back he was grinning ear to ear, hands cupping Steve's face so gently.

"I love you too, Stevie. I love you so much, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He said softly. Steve smiled, letting out a relieved sigh, before pulling Eddie closer and kissing him again.

He pushed Eddie back so that he was leaning against the counter, crowding him in as he deepened the kiss. One of Eddie's hands found its way to take hold of the hair at the nape of Steve's neck while the other fisted in Steve's shirt at his shoulder.

Steve's fingers had just slipped under the fabric of Eddie's t-shirt when the phone started ringing, and they both pulled back with disappointed groans. Steve begrudgingly went to answer it.

"Hello, this is Steve." He answered the phone. A moment later he was pinching the bridge of his nose as the corner of his mouth pulled into an involuntary smile. "Hey Robbie, what's up? No, I'm not stoned… It was just a little, I'm not stoned. What do you want?" Eddie couldn't help his fond grin as he watched Steve on the phone with Robin, free hand moved to sit on his hip in the classic Mama Steve pose as he listened to his best friend. "Well, how am I supposed to know what girls in California are like…? Robin, you go to Stanford so I know you're not that stupid… I can help how!? I didn't even get into community college, you are talking about a league of people that I am not a part of!"

This was going to last a while. Eddie breathed an endeared laugh, picking up his pile of snacks and heading back to the living room, winking at Steve as he passed him.

He lounged on the sofa shoveling chips into his mouth, tuning in and out of Steve's side of the phone call and chuckling at his exasperation with whatever problem Robin had called him to discuss. He hummed under his breath, a melody that he had written and had been workshopping the lyrics for, as he finished the chips and scooped up a muffin.

"Robin, I can't plan dates for you." Steve pressed his forehead against the wall in exasperation. As much as he loved Robin, she really did have a way of finding a problem in practically everything and then also making that Steve's problem. "For starters, I don't know what your neighbourhood is like. And also, I don't know what this girl is like other than what you've rambled at me… Robs- Robin- Rob- Robin! I think you've forgotten that time zones exist, because it's past midnight here and you're keeping me up with your lesbianism." Eddie snorted a laugh at that, shoving half a cookie into his mouth. "Yeah, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Eds, yell hi."

"Hi Rob! Bye Rob!" Eddie yelled with an amused smile on his face.

"Yeah, no, he is stoned." Steve chuckled into the receiver. "Alright, bye Robbie. Love you."

"I'm not stoned." Eddie pouted. Steve pushed his legs off of the sofa so that he could sit down.

"More stoned than me." He rebutted, gesturing to the half eaten pile of food scattered across the coffee table.

"That's 'cause you're a pussy." Eddie grinned teasingly. "Is Robin having a wild series of dalliances with cool California girls?"

"No, and I also don't care about that right now. I'll deal with her tomorrow, but for the meantime I think we were in the middle of something." Steve replied with a smirk. Eddie shot upright, his charm only slightly hindered by being under the influence as he leaned into Steve's space with an eyebrow raised flirtatiously.

"Were we?" He purred. 

"Well, unless you don't want to be." Steve teased. Eddie quickly placed his hands on either side of Steve's face, getting up onto his knees as he pressed their lips together to swiftly dismiss that notion. A laugh reverberated in Steve's throat as he kissed him back. He pulled back with a smile and brushed a stray curl off of Eddie's face. "Your bedroom or mine?"

[onmypinkmother]

Today's very special and lengthy One Donut a Day is about one of my favorite Hoops and Yoyo shorts 

Its a cute little animation of Yoyo taking a walk around listening to the song Sugar Vendor by Softee. 

Love the use of real locations. Piddles house is so cute too. I want to live there so badddughh!!! >w<

It's such an interesting short as its the only one of its kind, It feels branded like it was supposed to be its own recurring series but its not.

 So after watching something like this I wondered how hoops and yoyo collaborated with an indie band but finding that kind of information is hard. First of all the band, Softee was an indie Pop band from Kansas City, Missouri had a pretty short run starting in 2009 and going for a few years before becoming inactive. 

Excerpt from their youtube channel description,

“Softee is Sarah/bass/lead vox, Mimi/drums/vox, Flora/cello/keys & Steph/guitar/vox. A super fun lo-fi indie pop band from KC, USA, Softee met at work and are designer/illustrators by day and power popsters by night. They LOVE it and have a blast!!! We have 2 EPs & 2 singles available on itunes and amazon!!”

Looking at their page cant give me that much but it's something. Their albums are hard to find let alone catalog how many releases they’ve made. What I can find is 2 Ep’s and sugar vendor on a compilation album FIRST BLOOD which is the only way to listen to Sugar Vendor in good quality. Or like at all. Their youtube page has some of their songs performed live however the band being active in 2009 does not equate to the best quality. 

They’re cool but I wish there were more answers. I'll try to find some contact info for members of the band and how they came in contact with Hallmark. Maybe they had ties due to their design work? If they did the (really nice) art for their albums and banners) they do match the styles Hallmark has for their media in this era. Their art has this cute little baby squirrel? I think thats what it is these icons and posters are nice.

 So if I think the obvious thing is to either contact Mike Adir and or Bob Holt but that would seem like a hassle because I'd have a billion questions about Hoops and Yoyo to ask them. 

Well now that that section of the post is done with theres some merchandise based off this short, an Ipod case. It has Yoyo on one side with his ipod with some edited headphones instead of wearing the Apple Earbud style earbuds he wears in the Short, and Hoops on the other side just bein silly :p 

Heres some things I ripped from the flash file. I wanted to rip Yoyos adorable little head bobbing but this ones really strange compared to other flash files i’ve digged into where I could not find this animation by itself in the file. 

So have these of Yoyo and Piddles and the full backgrounds uncropped.

Speaking of the backgrounds I wondered where Yoyo was walking. So for fun I tried to find out what the real world locations of the walk and map the trail so lets see where these locations are now. 

Yoyo Takes a walk around 63rd street in the Brookside District in Kansas City Missouri possibly due to the band being from there maybe they frequented the spot. So lets reveal (almost) all the real locations from the short.

Location 1 - BlueBird Cafe 

The short begins and ends here and Bluebird Cafe is actually a CVS :( I think has been for a long time.

Location 2 -  Coffee Depot

Coffee Depot has an interesting history as it was once a Goodcents sandwich shop to now a Starbucks so it kind of is a Coffee Depot but less cute and more corporate and a big lack of a giant coffee mug on top I don't know if that was there at all or edited in.

Location 3 - pink house :) 

My personal favorite location as its such a pretty house. Unfortunately it was repainted in blue by the company that currently occupies it, a pest control service. I have no idea what previous business occupied the house as when i find other images of the house it seems to be up for sale. An odd point on googles street view shows one capture from 2011 when the house was still pink frozen in time. Such a shame a pretty house was repainted :( 

Location 4 - restaurant and DOGGONE IT!

Yoyo sits on the bench, reads a paper, and has a little dance break in front of these 2 buildings on a which are 3 stores. The restaurant is now 2 separate stores, a pet salon and a framing shop. Doggone it is a clothing store now.

Location 5 Ye olde donut shoppee

So this is the one I have no ideas about, reverse image search didn’t give me a clue and i took a street view tour around the area but did not find a matching building so this ones odd so please if anyone can find it let me know.

Location 6 - Chillis Delli

The location Yoyo passes but waits to cross the street is actually a restaurant so its not too off.

Bonus thing! - Hallmark location 

While researching the street I viewed old videos touring the area and had stumbled upon an old hallmark store there on the street. So I believe this may have something to do with the connection to Hallmark and Softee idk thats just my theory.

This has been a very long and big project post when it wasn't supposed to be, however the questions keeps piling and I enjoyed researching for this one. Next post may not be as long but will still have lots to it. 

Hello again and goodbye for a little - Penny <3

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

AN: image off Google gif from @illiana-mystery. Also thanks for always helping me flesh out my ideas and giving me support for the ideas I even think are incredibly wild. I’m taking excitement 625 aka Ruben from lilo and stitch the series and making him human. So here we go!

warnings: swearing

when the shop opened up next door, I was skeptical. Ruben’s rubens was a silly name that for some reason made me laugh every time I saw it. There wasn’t anything special about the shop itself, except for the guy who ran it who actually worked in the shop. As far as I knew, he had two other shops in the city that he split his time in but he always seemed to be there the two days a week I went there. Now three years later, I actually looked forward to getting to go on my lunch break.

“hi (Y/N).” Ruben said as I walked in. He had a line in front of the counter but took over for the employee in front of the register to pay me out and give me my sandwich. “The usual right?” I nodded and paid him.

“Ruben you’re a lifesaver.” I laughed as he wiped his hand over his forehead and left a stream of mustard. I pointed at my head and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Just promise me you’ll look in a mirror soon.” Ruben nodded.

“it’s gonna take a second for your coffee though.” Ruben said as he handed over my change. “Why am I a lifesaver?” I smiled at him and leaned against the wall as I watched him jump back into making sandwiches for his many customers. He looked at me expectantly.

“I have to work through lunch. And this means I can use my time affectively.” I held up the sandwich and Ruben smiled at me as he continued working.

“that sucks.” He said. “Tell ya what. I need to take a break so when coffee is done I’ll bring it over. It’s gonna be about ten minutes for it to finish.” I nodded and waved as I headed out. I started eating in the elevator and nearly forgot about the coffee as I worked. “Hello.” I nearly jumped as Ruben appeared next to me. “Sorry. But…” he held up the cup in his hand. “As promised.” I smiled and leaned back in my chair as I took the cup from him.

“thank you.” I said as I took a sip. “I’m so far down this rabbit hole I’m falling asleep.” Ruben laughed and looked down at his shoes. “Ruben…” I sighed as I stood up. Taking his hand, I led him over to the break room. I grabbed some paper towels and wet them in the sink.

“what are you…oh.” Ruben blushed as I cupped his cheek to get him to lean down slightly. Using the towel, I started to clean the mustard off his forehead.

“how’d you get mayonnaise in your hair?” I asked, turning to grab another towel and gently trying to get the condiment out of his hair.

“did I?” Ruben asked, eyebrows shooting up. “Damned if I know. Stuff just always sort of appears…” I laughed and tilted his head so I could make sure he was all cleaned up, not that it really mattered. “Thanks.” He said softly when I let him go. Ruben rubbed his neck and smiled at me.

“anytime. I don’t know why I did it. You’re just gonna get smeared in something else when you go back.” I said with a laugh. He shrugged.

“I appreciate the gesture though.” Ruben walked me back to my desk. “I take it the sandwich was good.” I nodded as I sat back down.

“always is.” I confirmed. “Thanks again for having it prepped. I promise when I go back in a few days I won’t be in a rush. Just everything lately…” I paused and took a deep breath. “Let’s just say I’m glad I still have people like you that like me.” Ruben blushed and kicked his foot.

“course I like you. I’ll always like you.” Ruben admitted. I smiled at him and blushed a little. “Uh I was wondering…”

“(Y/L/N)! My office! Now! This front page is crap!” My boss yelled across the office. I winced and Ruben looked up shocked.

“I have to go. But I’ll see you later. Ok?” I asked as I touched Ruben’s arm. He nodded.

“I’m closing later today. Stop by before you head home.” Ruben said. I nodded and grabbed my files off my desk and ran off, throwing him a smile over my shoulder. He gave me a small wave and awkwardly started to leave. Frowning, I walked into my boss’s office. The entire meeting I kept thinking back to Ruben and what he could possibly want to talk to me about. His face when my boss yelled at me kept playing in my head as I vaguely listened to what was being yelled at me now. When I was finally allowed out, I glanced at the clock and sighed. If I worked another hour I would miss dinner. I could still just make meeting Ruben though and that got me through the work I had to redo.

“shit!” I yelled as I slammed my hand against the brick wall. Ruben had closed up and I had missed him. Staring at the closed shop, I hung my head and breathed out harshly. “Motherfucker!” I turned to look up at my building, ignoring the stares I was getting from passerby. “Fuck you cocksucker!” I balled up my fists and could feel myself starting to shake from the anger and pent up stress.

“(Y/N)?” I turned when I heard my name and relaxed when I saw Ruben peaking out from the slightly open door. I had to bite back the laugh that threatened to escape when I looked him over. He was splattered from head to toe in barbecue sauce and seemed oblivious to the fact it was dripping off his hand onto the ground. “Why are you yelling?” I shook my head and headed into the shop as he held the door open for me.

“I had to work through dinner and when I saw the shop closed…” I trailed off as I saw the shop. There was a table set up with a table cloth and candle. Two sandwiches sat on the table and I turned to look back at Ruben. He smiled sheepishly at me.

“I figured you were still working. So I was hanging around…waiting…” he said, smiling at me. “And while I was waiting I figured you’d want to eat when you finally got out…” I laughed and wiped my eyes, tears spilling over from happiness and stress. Ruben furrowed his eyebrows at me and frowned.

“I’d hug you right now if you weren’t covered in barbecue sauce.” I laughed as I turned back to him. Ruben laughed and shrugged.

“there’s some ceaser and ketchup in there too. I think.” Ruben said as he looked down at himself. A drop of something fell off his nose and he flinched back a little. “Ok. I admit it. I may go a bit overboard with all this.” I laughed and motioned for him to follow me into the back.

“You have a change of clothes?” I asked. Ruben nodded. “I’ll get you cleaned up enough for you to change and then finish up when you do.” I turned towards the sink to grab a towel and turn on the water. I looked over to see Ruben going to his office. “Don’t!” He stopped and looked at me like a deer in headlights. “Get over here now. And don’t touch anything.” He slunk back over and rocked on his heels.

“sorry.” He murmured as I wrung out the towel. He let me clean him up and then slunk off to change. When he came back, I finished helping him clean up. “what do you normally do after a day like this?” I asked with a laugh as I tossed the towel in the sink. Ruben smiled.

“I go home and take a shower.” He shrugged. I nodded and smiled at him. “So uh what I wanted to ask earlier…”

“I’m sorry about that by the way.” I cut in. “Don’t let it stop you from visiting me at work.” Ruben chuckled and shook his head.

“it won’t.” He assured me. “I uh wanted to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me. Like a date.” I blinked at him as everything finally clicked. Looking over my shoulder, the way the table was set up made much more sense to me. “If you don’t want to, you can take the sandwich and go. Or I can take the candle away. Whatever…” I cupped his cheeks and Ruben stopped talking. He gulped and I could tell his mind had basically gone blank.

“yes Ruben. I’d love to have dinner with you.” I said, smiling at him. He nodded and reached up to grab my hands.

“ok.” He breathed out. We walked back out to the main part of the shop and sat down. We started eating and it was quiet for a while before Ruben cleared his throat. “I’ve uh…” he laughed as he picked at the paper under his sandwich. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while. Didn’t think I’d ever get the nerve to ask you out.” I smiled at him.

“Ruben…” I said softly. “I…can I be honest?” He nodded. “I wasn’t sure you were the kind of guy I liked. It’s been three years and we became really good friends. I’ve always seen you covered in something.” Ruben chuckled in agreement. “I mean when you wipe all that stuff off, you’re very cute. And I don’t know how I never noticed that before.” Ruben blushed.

“why do I sense a but?” He asked. I shook my head with a smile.

“no but. I just want you to know, from the beginning, that I’m…I guess taking a chance. And I want you to know that essentially I’m going in with little to no prior feelings.” Ruben raised an eyebrow. “Ok few prior feelings. I think you’re cute. Very adorable.” I admitted with a laugh. “Ruben I just want you to know that yes you’re going to have to work at this relationship. I do want this to work out.” Ruben nodded.

“I get that. And I appreciate you laying it all out.” He said. “I don’t mind working at a relationship. And I understand that means more than having your sandwiches prepped and bringing you coffee. I’ll do what it takes.” Smiling at each other, we finished eating. “Uh how are you getting home?” He asked as he finished locking up. I looked up from my phone and smiled.

“you gonna offer to walk me home?” I asked. Ruben nodded and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I just ordered an Uber. Sorry.” I gave him a sad smile.

“That’s ok.” He shrugged. “I’ll wait with you. I live up there.” He pointed at the apartment above the shop. “Easy commute.” I laughed and we stood together while waiting for my ride. “Stop by tomorrow morning? I’ll have coffee ready and we can hang out a little before you have to work.” I nodded with a smile as my ride pulled up.

“that sounds great.” I agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hugged Ruben and smiled as I got into the car. “Worth it.” I laughed as Ruben smiled back at me, waving as I pulled away and headed home.

[pbandjesse]

The forest fire smoke has reached us! Everything is hazy and I have a slight cough and my eyes hurt. It isn't orange here like it is in New York but I wouldn't be surprised if it changes and turns in the next day or two. It will be interesting to see the sky be orange but also my poor lungs and eyes.

Today was a better day then last night. Last night was terrible. I got so stupidly upset and every little tiny thing I have been slightly even a little upset about over the last 6 months came up and I was just crying and mad at James because I didn't think they understood me. And I almost slept on the couch but I would eventually talk about some of it with James and we sort of made peace before sleep.

And I was able to articulate my feelings more through text. And we would get it out and I felt more heard. And because James is a sweetie and is never doing anything that upsets me maliciously, they would bring me "flowers" at the end of the day. We think they are huckberries and golden rod, but Google wasn't sure. I think they are beautiful and unusual. Like me???

I would wake up a few times this morning. I was a little disoriented but I was fine. I don't remember James leaving. But I woke up around 830 and felt alright. My chest hurt a little bit. But I was alright.

I got dressed eventually. Took my time. While I was going to camp I wasn't in a rush. I had no schedule. And that was really nice.

I got myself together. And decided to leave here around 9 with the plan to make it to camp around 10. I would stop for breakfast and then get on the road.

And it worked out great. I had my hashbrowns for breakfast and saved my sandwich for lunch. I honestly wasn't sure interested in the soda. I think I'm going to go back to my normal summer routine of soda with breakfast, ice tea with lunch, and water with dinner. Also water all day. I want to stay hydrated.

The world seemed hazy. My pictures don't capture how strange it seems. My eyes were uncomfortable. My breathing was uncomfortable. I would have some intense sneezing attacks. But once I got to camp, while it was still hazy, the fire smell was much less. And I think it was all the trees. Thank you trees.

I would spend the first two hours cleaning and putting things away in the art building. Well that's mostly true. I would spend about 15 minutes doing that and then went to the lodge to use the bathroom and decided to start setting up the tables and chairs while I was down there. Which would take a half hour. And then back to the art building until around noon.

While I was in the lodge the kitchen staff was there. I was able to chat with them a bit about some of the weirdness and head butting and me crying at lunch and stuff. And he said they have a rockstar team this year and things were going to be a lot better. Fingers crossed. They were very nice. In the way line cooks are nice. They also asked me if I was already sleeping at camp. Because apparently someone was over by the nature building whistling last night and scared them super bad. No idea what that could be about. Hopefully camp isn't haunted.

I would set up about half of the lunch tables and all the seats for intro. But for bored and would head back to the art building to work on loading up my materials for my feild trip tomorrow.

Getting everything into my car is always fun. I had my wagon so I was able to not hurt myself or over do it. And then I went to drop everything off. I also decided to bring my shopping cart to load up all my popcorn and Heather thought that was super cute. I would go to the pool house to bake my cornbread and eat my lunch next.

I was a little annoyed I couldn't find my tin foil or my measuring cup. I used the coffee pot because James said it was the same but the cornbread came out weird. Somehow both dry and gummy. So I would have to make more at home because it is embarrassing how weird it was. Smelled good at least.

The group that was here today came by to get some food they left. I helped them load it into a box. The little boys said the cornbread smelled great and I was like. Yes. They were so cute.

Once that was done I went to the office and Heather was laughing so hard at my dry and gummy cornbread. She had the giggles for sure. After I checked in with Elizabeth I would head home.

When I got home Will was there to do some work and take out some trash. We talked about how it felt weird to breathe. And then I headed in. Where I saw Nick and we chatted about spiders for a little while.

And then I was able to just chill. There was stuff to do but nothing was pressing.

I would go and pull out any clothes I thought I might want at camp. 10 dresses, one pair of short overalls,12 tshirts, 2 tank tops, 3 short sleeve button shirts, 4 long sleeve button shirts, 5 pairs of soft long pants, 4 long skirts, 2 legging shorts, 2 pairs of shorts. Two sweatshirts and a windbreaker. It feels like a lot. It is a lot but also it gives me options for so many things. And I don't really have to worry about laundry for a bit then. Not in a big way. And that also covered layers, and sleeping and changing for different weather. I was able to fit all of that in three bags. And all of it will fit in my box at camp that currently has my bedding. I am still unsure if I'm staying in the art building or in a cabin but that's okay. I'm still excited and it was fun to make the picks.

I would get my hammocks and some of my other camp stuff down and in my Ikea bag. I put the kayak back in the closet and made space for the life jackets. It was fun.

I worked on some stuff at my desk. Went through an old purse. And started a new little knitting loom project with my smallest loom. I have an idea I want to try.

James would get home soon. And they had those flowers for me and it was just so nice to be with them. Now that my upset was resolved. And James would make us pasta for dinner. Which was great. I did steal the garlic bread which made them think they were going crazy. But it was very funny and we laughed for a while over how confused they got.

My chest was hurting from the air so we decided to close up the apartment best we could. It's hard because we can't close the one window, and the back door leaks and the AC is a window unit. But I set up a filter box and put a towel over the window. And hopefully it helps a bit.

It does remind me that I would like to get an air purifier. I used to have one and it was great. But they are pricey. Something to look into but people are probably price gouging right now so I'm not sure I'll be able to do anything in the next couple days. I'll still see but I don't have high hopes.

James got on a call to play DND. And I took a milk bath. And my body, besides my lungs, feel the best that it has in days. I'm still not amazing but at least I don't feel like my body is betraying me anymore.

Tomorrow I have my Native American feild trip. And then who knows. Its the last one of the season! I hope the kids are okay in the smokey air. I hope we all are.

Goodnight everyone. I hope you are staying safe. It feels dystopian to hope your air is good but also. The times were in call for it.

[suckitsurveys]

Have you had more hot or cold drinks today? Hot. I’ve only had coffee so far today.

What’s a name you like that’s similar to yours? Savannah, Joanna, Anne.

Where did you get the last plate/bowl you ate with from? Walmart.

How’s your mental health today? It's alright. I’m feeling the post Halloween sadness tho.

What bands and artists did you listen to when you were a teenager? Blink 182, Sublime, Jimmy Eat World, Weezer, No Doubt.

Do your feelings get hurt easily? Eh, yes and no.

What sort of restaurant did you last eat at? Mexican.

Do you have a friend who’s always sending you TikTok videos? Do you actually watch them? Yes, Ellen and I send each other a lot.

Have you ever seen a cougar in the wild? Never.

Will you attend a wedding in the next 3 months? Not as of right now.

Are you good at following instructions? Sure.

What’s your backyard or outdoor area like? We have a decent sized lot for being in the city. There’s a garage and a driveway and some grass and a veggie garden and a patio next to the garage with a flower garden. On the patio we have a table and grills and fire pit and string lights set up.

Do you like your boss? (or your last boss if you don’t currently have one) He’s nice but he isn’t very bright and he does not know how to say no which constantly bites us in the ass.

When was the last time you took a selfie? On Saturday.

What did you have for breakfast yesterday? Two granola bars and a banana.

What do you do to entertain yourself on a long flight or journey? On a flight I usually get WiFi or have stuff downloaded, or get a magazine.

Where are you right now? At work.

Have you ever done a hearing test? Yup, they used to do them annually in grade school, as well as vision tests.

Do you hate small talk? It honestly depends.

What’s the hottest temperature your current town/city has ever had? According to google, 105F, but it has definitely felt hotter than that some summersd.

What programs/applications do you currently have open on the device you’re using right now? This and my work programs.

How many steps per day do you do, generally? I don’t know.

Have you had any snacks today? I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.

Did you have any exchange students at your high school or university and did you become friends with them? Nope.

What’s the next thing you’ll tick off your to-do list? I don’t have anything looming over me at the moment. I guess just basic stuff like grocery shopping and laundry.

Have you ever had a chia pet? Yeah.

What’s your favourite sandwich filling? I usually go for tuna over most other sandwiches, but I like to change it up. It just depends on where the sandwich is coming from.

Do you have any nieces or nephews? I do.

What was the last reason you saw a doctor? Check up.

Do you use light mode or dark mode on your phone? Mostly dark For some reason I hate IG on dark mode, but almost everything else is.

[talesfromtheorient]

Standing on the hotel rooftop at 5:30am, I watched the balloons gradually float into Göreme. It was a spectacular sight. I took a few voluntary photos for a couple and then ended up becoming the Cecil Beaton of Cappadocia. They did like my shots though.

After a speed pack, I climbed into the shuttle service to Göreme airport. We sped around Göreme picking up travellers before making our way to Kayseri airport. The road to Kayseri from Göreme is long and straight. Gradually the desert landscape turned into artificially fertile fields and snow covered mountains appeared on the horizon.

I made my way through security to the boarding gate. The airport is really small, even when compared to London City. It’s a former military airport which explains the numerous jets taking off. Outside the boarding gate, I bumped into the family from London, who were on my balloon tour. I was expecting more comedy antics from the young lad but he was quite subdued. He must have been warned. The dad had purchased the official air balloon video and sent me the files. Although I am tucked away the other side of the balloon, the video is cool. The family are from Kingswood near Epsom, they were also flying to Antalya. They are staying in a resort, something which the dad isn’t too happy about. I don’t think being with his father in law helps matters.

Pegasus Airlines got us to Antalya in an hour. They were a good airline and for some reason I was given a sandwich. Apparently I had ordered it when I booked my ticket, but nobody else had one…I think that I may have chosen the wrong option 😬 To be fair the website was very confusing and it’s is miracle that I booked the right flight, I could be in Izmir now!

We arrived in Antalya and I made my way to the new tramway which smashed through the city centre to the old town. It was hot, 43 Degrees Celsius but I still attempted to find my hotel by foot. I stopped at a restaurant for a drink and to use their Wi-Fi. I must have picked the only restaurant in Antalya, which doesn’t have Wi-Fi! When I stopped, I realised how hot I was. Unable to determine my location on Google Maps, I attempted to get a taxi at a local cab office. I showed them my hotel address and they pointed me in the direction of my hotel which was a 2 minute walk away. Well I never.

After freshening up, I head out to explore the Old Town. It was still very hot. The Old Town was nice but insanely crowded and the atmosphere wasn’t great. The Turkish people here aren’t very nice, they must be seasonal workers. It’s super crowded, rough and everyone seems miserable. It’s a typical resort town, I don’t know what I was expecting. There are lots of Russians here, who are nice enough, but it all feels like a very hot Blackpool. Tacky shops, naughty spoilt kids, overpriced restaurants and tourists who have no real desire to explore the countries culture. It is what it is, but I really am thinking that 4 nights here is too much. It’s hard to go from the highs of Cappadocia, to this. Thankfully now at 22:30pm it is slowly stating to cool down. Tomorrow I will explore the Old Town more, there are some Roman ruins that I want to see, but it’s so hot, I’ll probably just go to the beach.

[theninjasanctuary]

Field notes from the trip, as written on the return flight:

A night at 4-star Citadines aparthotel at Les Halles cost very nearly the same as the one in cheapo Adagio Access near Bastille. The apartment at Citadines was easily twice as big, bigger than most Airbnbs I’ve rented, and well equipped (bath – a smallish one, but still; a balcony overlooking Fontaine des Innocents + another window with a view of the roofs of the Forum, dishwasher, kettle, toaster, microwave/grill and induction stovetop, would have been easy to cook full meals there), and if I had the budget for it/got someone else to pay for it, I’d stay there again. That being said, the floor was deathly cold; getting the shivers just thinking about it. And it didn’t have a dining table as such, but a generous desk and another fold-out chair in the hallway wardrobe (one of the two). No washer, but I’m thinking they probably have an in-house laundrette? The big room was a bit too dark at night, just wall sconces and a small table lamp on the desk, definitely not ideal for reading an actual book in bed. The bathroom vanity looked cheap to begin with and pretty tired, too, not luxurious.

The other 2 hotels were fine too, the room in Adagio Access had had a kitchen upgrade; the B&B Hotel thing had a tiny room, sparsely, if not stingily equipped (no soap by the sink; just a wall-mounted shower gel in the shower? No hand towels, just a bath towel per person?), but it was fresh-looking, clean and functional, and I slept like a log.

I had some terrible food (starving late one night and out of options, we ate at a Buffalo Grill, even the fries were bad) and some good too; found a restaurant called Le Lieu Dit that I would be happy to visit again. Ate on the go a lot, and I’m fed up with sandwichs and pastries for a while, I think. Mostly, I’m glad that my knees held up, and I didn’t get a cold. Can’t say the same for the boyf, and I might yet get what he’s got, but oh well.

Travelling part was uneventful, managed to not get caught up in strikes and thanks to the hotel staff, got a taxi to the train station during a high-demand morning station rush on Sunday. However, Google Maps is not great for directions in Paris. It routinely underestimated travel times, suggested getting off the bus in the wrong place, and we would have missed our TGV if it wasn’t for helpful bystanders.

Visited the Paris embassy on business (have been to London, Berlin, Brussels and Paris now, and also have had dinner in a New York sushi restaurant with the consul stationed there; this was never a goal in itself, it has just happened).

Didn’t shop much, a bit of skincare repurchases (Furterer shampoo, Biotherm SOS spray, Cattier hand cream, etc.), and a Uniqlo ULD collarless jacket, because it looked right on my most basic of asses. Ofc it is soft pink, too, because that too tends to look right on me. The plan is to wear it to the office under looser and thinner wool coats, and it’ll help putting up with the office temperature that’s been lowered as a cost-saving measure. Got an impressive amount of tea, too, Chinese and Taiwanese imports from Tang Frères and Twinings teabags in varieties probably intended for the French market, as I haven’t seen them anywhere else. Tuiles d’amandes seem to be having a moment, stocked up on those and some Bonne Maman madeleines and whatnot too.

As for souvenirs, got some cute af Ghibli chopsticks. Haven’t bought sushi in a while for reasons of being broke though. Have to pay the bills and see where I’m at. Anyway, the plan for tomorrow is to stay at home, maybe a quick run for groceries, and pet the cat. He has coped ok without us, but appears to be waiting for someone (he’s very alert to door-opening sounds, but we share a hallway door with the neighbours, so there’s a lot of disappointment).

[gatarishipsvocaloids]

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

For @jonmartinweek Day 8 - Alternate Universe // Free Day

Jon’s boyfriend was too thoughtful. It was a real problem.

That wasn’t to say that Jon was under the misapprehension that Martin was perfect - he was well aware of his flaws. He was stubborn, and a poor communicator, and the only person Jon knew whose pettiness rivaled his own. But all of these qualities were made up for (to the extent that they needed to be made up for - Martin’s pettiness was, in all honesty, something Jon greatly admired) by all the ways Martin cared. He cared so much, and he made it look effortless.

It was the little things. Cups of tea, sandwiches from the cafe down the street (cause I noticed you skipped lunch again), thick woolen socks (cause I know your feet always get cold at night), ceramic mugs with highland cows painted in the glaze (cause it reminded me of you). Jon wasn’t good at the little things, but he was determined to get better. So when Martin mentioned that he’d never been given flowers, he thrilled at the opportunity.

They were at lunch, Martin having successfully talked Jon into actually leaving work for an hour, when a woman walked past the window by their table carrying a bouquet of lilies, asters, and snapdragons.

“I wonder what she’s celebrating,” Martin mused.

“I don’t know,” Jon shrugged.

“I always love seeing people out in public with flowers...” Martin was gazing out the window with a dreamy smile, and Jon wanted to memorize that smile and keep it tucked away somewhere next to his heart forever.

“Good to know,” he said. “I always got a bit embarrassed carrying a bouquet around.”

“‘Always?’ Just how often do you get bouquets?”

“Just once,” Jon admitted. “Georgie bought one for me when I got an essay published in an academic journal.” It had been an ostentatious thing - all sunflowers and goldenrod and clusters of pink amaryllis - but Jon hadn’t been able to help being pleased.

“That was sweet of her!”

“I suppose it was, but I felt obnoxious carrying it home on the bus.”

“Hmm.” Martin glanced thoughtfully down at his tea, then said, “I’ve never actually gotten flowers before,” and Jon knew he had to do something about that.

That Friday, when Martin popped his head into Jon’s office and asked, “Ready to go?” Jon looked down at his work and sighed.

“I’ve still got a few things to finish up,” he lied, “Why don’t you head home without me?”

Martin bit his lip, considering for a moment before he agreed. “Alright,” he said, walking over to Jon’s desk to kiss him goodbye, “Just promise you’ll leave before 7:00?”

“I promise,” Jon said, and he meant it.

As soon as Martin left, Jon gathered his things and headed out. He’d done some googling, and found that there was a florist a few blocks from the Institute, so he made his way there, sending a few furtive glances at his surroundings to make sure Martin wasn’t around to catch him.

The florist’s shop was small and bright and cheery, its cramped walls overflowing with flowers. Jon browsed the premade bouquets when he came in, but none of them seemed right. This needed to be personal.

After a moment, the only employee in the shop finished ringing up another customer and came over to check on him. “Anything I can help you with?” she asked.

“Yes, I-I was hoping to buy a bouquet,” he said, though that was probably obvious - there weren’t a lot of other reasons to go to a florist.

“Do any of these strike you, or were you thinking of getting something custom-made?”

“Custom-made, I think,” he said, and she showed him what flowers he had to pick from and told him things he mostly already knew - roses are a classic choice, but sunflowers are also quite popular these days, and of course you can’t go wrong with lilies…

“And do these flowers have- have meanings attached to them?”

“Well, of course,” the woman said, “But most people these days don’t pay attention to flower language, and to be honest, it’s usually better to just focus on what looks good. I mean, technically peonies symbolise bitterness, but I’ve never met someone who’s been upset to get a dozen peonies.”

That was, of course, a fair point, but Jon still pushed back. “Yes, but, well, my- my boyfriend is a poet, and I think the symbolism would appeal to him.”

The woman Aww’ed at that, which Jon tried not to be offended by (he was aware that his boyfriend was adorable, but she still didn’t need to coo at him like he was a puppy) and talked him through the meanings of all the flowers in the shop, acting as a guide and a sounding board until he’d assembled a bouquet that he thought suited his needs.

“I hope he likes it,” she smiled as she wrapped the bouquet for him and sent him on his way. He smiled back, hoping much the same.

As he went home - finding himself riding public transportation with a bouquet for the second time in his life, and not enjoying it much more this time - he couldn’t help but wonder if he shouldn’t have just ignored the symbolism and gone for something prettier. As it stood, his arrangement looked a bit plain and a bit monochrome, dark purple heliotrope and pale purple hydrangea sprinkled with white bursts of sweet alyssum.

I should have just gotten roses, he fretted, everyone likes roses.

As Jon stood on the doorstep and fumbled for his keys, he couldn’t help but smile at the knowledge that Martin was already inside, in the home that they shared. They’d lived together for a few months now, but Jon wasn’t convinced his excitement over the prospect was ever going to fade.

“You’re home early,” Martin called from the couch as Jon let himself in. “For you, anyway. I didn’t think I’d see you until after…” he trailed off as he caught sight of the flowers in Jon’s hands. “What’s this?”

Jon held the flowers out to Martin and cleared his throat. “You said you’d never gotten flowers before,” he explained. “Well, now you have.”

Martin scrambled off the couch and pulled Jon into a kiss, and Jon had to hold the flowers out to his side to keep them from getting crushed between them.

“Jon, I love it!” he said, finally taking the bouquet. He looked from the flowers to Jon as though unsure which was more beautiful. “I love you,” he added, leaning down for another kiss.

“I love you, too.” Jon looked at the flowers in Martin’s hand, and a thought struck him. “God, we don’t have a vase, do we? I should have bought a vase!”

“I’m sure we’ll make do,” Martin said, walking to the kitchen (their shared kitchen!) and pulling out the largest glass they owned. He filled the glass with water and placed the flowers inside. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but at least it didn’t tip over.

“The florist’s was pretty close to the Institute. Maybe we can pick out a vase after work on Monday,” Jon suggested, though his cheeks flushed at the prospect of bringing Martin to meet the florist. She was going to Aww at them again, he just knew it.

“I’d like that,” Martin said, still smiling down at the bouquet. “I can’t believe you bought me flowers! I didn’t get anything for you.”

“You bought me Jaffa cakes yesterday!” Jon protested. He’d confessed to Martin the week before that he loved Jaffa cakes but never thought to buy them for himself, and lo and behold, Martin had bought a package the next time he went shopping.

“Not the same,” Martin said, and Jon wanted to argue that if anything, Jaffa cakes were better than flowers, but before he could, Martin was saying, “Anyway, what were you thinking for dinner? When I thought you’d be home late, I figured we could just get pizza, and I’m honestly kind of craving it now.”

“Pizza sounds great,” Jon smiled. “I’d have been home sooner, but I ended up having a long conversation about flower symbolism with the woman at the florist’s.” Martin raised an eyebrow, which Jon took as an invitation to elaborate. “The, uh, the heliotrope symbolises devotion, and the alyssum means ‘everlasting love,’” he said, pointing out the flowers in question. “And the hydrangeas symbolise gratitude for- for being fully understood.” Martin had been staring at him fondly while he spoke, but at that last comment, his eyes went impossibly soft at the edges, and Jon supposed he must have chosen well. “I, uh. I thought that just about covered it.”

Martin grabbed Jon’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles in turn. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you, and I’m- I’m devoted to you, and I’m so glad you understand me, and- and is there anything I’m missing?”

“No, no, those are the three.” Jon smiled softly, and Martin smiled back.

“I mean it, you know.”

“I know,” Jon said, because he did.

(View this work on AO3)

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Part II

On the Wings of Desire

Warnings: Language

(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think. 

Chapter One is here

Two Years Ago

 Azriel

 Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.

There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.

It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.

He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.

Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.

They haven’t had a kiss yet.

Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?

She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.

 Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”

“Laney, open up! It’s me!”

A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.

And his jaw almost dropped.

She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.

He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.

“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.

Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.

Shit.

He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.

“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.

“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”

“With whom?” he demanded.

He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.

They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.

Elain was his.

His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.

Elain was his.

His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.

Elain was his.

His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.

What the fuck was this?

Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?

Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”

“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.

“No, I don’t!”

“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.

“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”

Why did he care? WHY did he care?

He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.

So why this?

Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.

Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”

“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”

She stared at him and bit out,

“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”

“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.

He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”

“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”

“Cass runs security for,”

“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”

“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. “And what if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.

“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”

She blushed.

That’s a no.

“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,

“His name is Dorian!”

“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”

She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”

He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”

“Are you seriously going to Google him?”

“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”

She paled.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”

“Good idea.”

She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”

“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.

She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”

“Get in line,” he snapped.

“Adarlan,”

“What?”

“His last name is Adarlan.”

Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.

A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.

Figures.

Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.

“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.

She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.

“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.

That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.

So, he went for it.

“Call it off,” he begged.

“What?”

“Call it off. Please.”

“Why?”

Because you are mine.

He wanted to tell her. To explain.

But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.

“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.

Steps.

He didn’t turn around.

“Elain.”

“Dorian.”

Her face lit up with a smile.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”

When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.

Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.

He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.

They stared at each other.

Azriel didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?

What if,

No.

No.

Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.

“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.

Dorian blinked.

“What?”

“Treat. Elain. Well.”

“Who are you?”

“Consider me her brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”

Fucking intellectual powerhouse.

“I am one of many,”

“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.

“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”

“Ready?!” Elain chirped.

“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.

Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.

“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”

 Elain

 “He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.

She grunted in response.

“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”

“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.

“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”

“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.

“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”

She interrupted,

“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”

“I mean,”

“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”

Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.

 Azriel

 Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.

Her smile made everything better.

When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.

Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.

Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.

That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.

If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.

“I need your car,” he demanded.

“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”

Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.

Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.

At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.

Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.

Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.

There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.

Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.

It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.

Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.

They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.

And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.

What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.

But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.

And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.

 Elain

 Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.

It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.

Elain was having none of it.

She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.

Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.

All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.

This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.

Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.

Elain sighed.

She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.

“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.

“Oh?”

She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…

Forgive her?

“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

“No.”

She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.

 As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.

There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.

There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.

She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,

She stopped.

She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.

She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…

She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.

She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”

A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.

“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.

“Come on, sugar. Join me.”

Sugar?

And then, there were four of them. Five.

None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.

“So, who are you?” asked one of them.

“A guest.”

She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.

“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”

“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”

“But why?”

One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.

“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.

“Where do you got to go, baby?”

Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.

“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.

“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”

“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.

“Oh no?”

“And who are you with?”

“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.

“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”

“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”

She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”

Laughter.

“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”

“I think I need to go,”

“But why!?!”

They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”

“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.

More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.

“Really?”

“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”

“Good one! I almost fell for it.”

“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”

“You aren’t exactly his type.”

Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.

She threw, “and what type is that?”

“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”

“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”

“Are you even legal?”

“You look awfully young.”

At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.

For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”

Fuck. Another one.

The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.

And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.

“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.

Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?

“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.

She shuddered.

He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.

His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.

It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.

His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.

“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”

Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.

As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

He did not though.

Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.

She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”

“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”

He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”

“No,” he said simply.

She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

“Az, please, I need to,”

“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”

“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.

She paused, but then added,

“But sometimes, you get what you need.”

A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,

“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.

She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.

She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.

They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”

She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.

When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.

“Your tattoos look like wings.”

He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.

“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”

“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.

“Yes.”

She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.

“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

He had no choice but to grip her hand back,

and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.

Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.

And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.

“Stop that,” he ordered.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Elain,”

“Azriel,”

“It’s not going to work,” he warned.

She shrugged, “we’ll see.”

They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.

“What do you want?”

She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.

He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”

“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”

He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.

They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.  

 The drive wasn’t comfortable.

He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.

Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”

“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.

She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”

His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”

“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”

Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.

“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.

“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.

Finally, they were coming towards her block.

The silence was stifling. Unbearable.

“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.

She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”

“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”

Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.

He was shaking his head.

There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.

“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.

He stopped the car next to her house.

“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”

He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.

“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”

Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.

“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”

Elain. Elain. Elain.

She hated that he called her Elain.

She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.

There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.

“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”

He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.

“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”

She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.

As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.

It destroyed him completely.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.

This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”

She choked on a sob.

“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”

He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.

But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.

 ********************

 Azriel

 Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.

He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.

She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.

She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.

Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.

They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protégé and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.

The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.

Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.

Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.

She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.

Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.

Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.

At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.

“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.

“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”

No answer.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.

“What the fuck, Az?”

“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”

Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.

“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.

“Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”

“Oh.”

“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”

“It’s my shop,”

“Even though. State and city regulations.”

He put out his cigarette compliantly.

“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,

“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”

She was shaking her head.

He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.

Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.

“Az,”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”

He didn’t react.

“Elain is downstairs.”

To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.

“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”

“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.

“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”

But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.

It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.

It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.

Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.

“Elain,”

She jumped up and turned to him.

He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.

His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.

They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,

“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”

Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.

The rain began to fall.

Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.

Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.

“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”

Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.

He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.

He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,

“You want me?”

Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”

“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”

He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.

“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.

“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”

She kissed the tips of his fingers.

“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.

“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”

She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,

“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”

He cupped her face in his hands and asked,

“May I kiss you?”

“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”

Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.

“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”

She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”

He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.

“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.

“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.

Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.

“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.

Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.

Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.

Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.

Gods, this man could kiss.

Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.

She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.

Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.

“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.

She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.

He’d finally made someone happy.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.

Elain had fought for him.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.

“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.

Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.

The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.

“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.

“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.

She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.

“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”

She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.

“But what am I going to wear?”

“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”

She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”

Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.

The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”

“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.

“You are the one with the bare butt!”

Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.

“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of … intrigued.

“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.

When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.

“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.

He marked everything.

How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.

How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.

How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.

“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “

She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.

He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”

She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.

“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.

“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”

“What?”

“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”

“And? Did you?”

“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta—that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,

“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”

Azriel agreed, “probably not”.

“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”

She halted. Said nothing else.

Azriel waited.

“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.

“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.

She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”

His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”

“You won’t lea--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”

She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.

“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.

She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,

“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”

He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”

She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.

“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.

He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”

“What would be serious?”

“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”

She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,

“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.

“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.

He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.

“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.

She sighed and explained,

“In high school I was dating Luce,”

“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”

She started to laugh,

“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”

“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”

“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”

“Ahhh,”

“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.

“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”

“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.

She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”

“But it was without any,”

“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”

He nodded with understanding.

“And college?”

“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”

The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.

“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”

“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.

She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”

“Cass?”

“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”

Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.

“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.

“Yes, they do.”

“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”

“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”

She laughed,

“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”

“So basically Dorian?”

Elain rolled her eyes,

“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”

“Not for a while.”

“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.

“Come here.”

Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”

She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.

This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.

“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”

“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”

“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”

“I’d like forever,” he agreed.

She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,

“Az,”

“Elain,”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”

“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.

“No jokes.”

“No jokes.”

He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”

She nodded.

“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”

“What do you want, Az?”

“Love,” he said simply.

She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.

He waited.

“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.

“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.

He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.

“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.

Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”

He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”

“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love it!”

“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever I want!”

“Az!”

“Lainey.”

He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”

“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”

“Azriel!”

“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”

She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.

He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.

Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.

Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”

He nodded.

As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,

“No!”

He was laughing under his breath.

“No!” she exclaimed again.

“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.

“You…” she fumed. “No!”

He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”

“I am not getting a tattoo!”

“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”

“I am not going to,” she insisted.

“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”

“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”

“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”

She huffed, “I will not!”

He shrugged.

She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”

Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”

“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”

Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.

“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.

Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.

“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.

“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”

He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening…When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”

The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.

“I want it,” she took the paper from him.

“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”

Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.

He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”

Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.

She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.

She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.

“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”

“What?”

“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.

He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”

He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.

“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.

He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”

She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.

“No crying,” he said.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

He was laughing.

“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.

“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.

“I am seeing that now,”

He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”

“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.

“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.

Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.

“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.

“Prick your finger,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Prick your finger,”

“And?”

The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, “I think you know what to do.”

So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.

 Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.

 It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.

She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.

“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it! 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​​ @satingrass-maidensfair​​ @guitarfingers​​ @thebohemianpenguin​​ @peaceisouranthem​​ @oblvions​​ @hansonobsessed​​ @myownparadise96​​ @lara-gvf​​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​​ @bigblack-catattack​​​ 

MASTERPOST 

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf. 

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her. 

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke. 

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin. 

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis. 

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.” 

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home. 

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded. 

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in. 

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply. 

“Okay, I will,” you challenged. 

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently. 

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped. 

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening. 

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan. 

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine. 

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. 

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray. 

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it. 

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside. 

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food. 

He smiled at you. “I know.” 

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv. 

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?” 

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?” 

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?” 

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards. 

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along. 

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process. 

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room. 

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food. 

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence. 

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile.  “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh. 

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it. 

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face. 

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin. 

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t. 

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

 “Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth. 

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?” 

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again. 

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.” 

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood. 

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit. 

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl. 

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding. 

“Not too much though,” he warned. 

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes. 

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke. 

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered. 

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently. 

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped. 

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened. 

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes. 

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion. 

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy. 

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag. 

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased. 

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh. 

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it. 

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs. 

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless. 

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet. 

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs. 

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight. 

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room. 

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it. 

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all. 

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter. 

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side. 

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face. 

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained. 

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned. 

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next. 

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing. 

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence. 

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure. 

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work. 

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. 

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood. 

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest. 

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips. 

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering. 

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. 

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again. 

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.” 

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth. 

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip. 

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily. 

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration. 

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face. 

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch. 

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate. 

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close. 

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come. 

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you. 

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed. 

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders. 

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.  

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly.  You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him. 

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face. 

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back. 

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it. 

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately. 

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

 You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly. 

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.” 

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

[caleiiiii]

mcyt subway au pt 4 - ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

check out the master post here !

halloween

phil lets everyone dress up for the halloween weekend as long as they wear the nametag and hat

tubbo dresses up as a bee (it matches the pin on his visor :D)

tommy tries to “dress up” as schlatt, but gets denied as soon as he walks in the door

wilbur, the shift lead, decides that tommy can just. wear a sheet over his head with the eyes cut out

he has to wear the hat and nametag on the sheet tho

wilbur, quackity, and fundy decide it would be hilarious to all wear their uniforms backwards

hats, shirts, aprons, pants, it’s all backwards

wilbur asks fundy if hes gonna wear his fursuit (this is before the philza smackdown)

fundy is Not Pleased 

the dream team + karl dress up as hogwarts students

instantly the favorites from all the kids who come into the store

technoblade dresses up as a vampire 

isnt allowed to ring people up because of the fake fangs

eret dresses up as a king, also attempts to wear those like 5 inch platform heels

the reason he cant is because he kept hitting his head on things

niki dresses up as wednesday addams

phil told her she wasnt allowed to keep the crossbow on her :(

schlatt just shows up in his everyday clothes

when quackity asks who hes dressed up as schlatt just responds

“God”

no one else asks any questions

the proofer incident

one time tubbo was sick and couldn’t work his shift

everyone else was busy so phil let tommy and wilbur work it alone

since tubbo always bakes the bread, tommy had to do it

(for context, you have to proof bread before you bake it so it rises)

so tommy placed all the dough in the proofer to proof

but he didnt set the timer right

cut to a few hours later

the two are just finishing up a big rush when wilbur looks into the proofer

“tommy, you do know how to set the timer on the proofer, right?”

“what timer?”

tommy looks into the proofer

its just

dough

so much dough

(when you overproof dough it gets really big)

wilbur starts CACKLING 

tommy just. stares

they run out of bread that evening

languages

tubbo asks niki to teach him german one night

niki decides to hang up a bunch of sticky notes on items around with the store with the german word for it

fundy and quackity begin to do the same for dutch and spanish respectively

phil tells them as long as its in the back room he doesnt mind

speedrunning sandwiches

dream is hella good at making sandwiches

prides himself on being pretty damn good at his job

one day he hears rumors about a worker from another subway store who is super fast at making sandwiches

dream, curious, asks what location and decides to pay a visit to this newfound competitor

when he gets there, he meets illumina

the guy is just so fast at making sandwiches

dreams internal monolouge: “oh, this is my new rival”

as illumina is making his sandwich hes just like. mentally taking notes

he starts going to the other subway like about 3-4 days a week

everytime he asks for illumina to make his sandwich

every single time

time skip to two ish weeks later or smth

dream has made way too many google docs and spreadsheets over this

once he was editing it on the company computer and sapnap caught him and just stared in horror

he goes into the subway to order another sandwich and asks for illumina again

as dream is paying illumina kinda asks

“hey, so uh, is there a reason that you come in here like every day and always request that i make your sandwich?”

dream just. Freezes

its a weird conversation

the kitten incident(s) -an expansion on an idea by @trademarked-but-not-really !

schlatt, despite the façade he puts up, is a big softie

one time he finds a tiny kitten on his way to work

in a split second decision he just. brings the kitten to work

places the cat in his cubby behind his sweatshirt

during his lunch break he goes to the back room to play with the kitten

quackity catches schlatt holding the kitten and baby-talking it

“who’s a good kitty? you are! you-”

“uh, schlatt, what are you doing?”

quackity gets so much blackmail

“if you tell anyone about this you’re dead.”

quackity uses his blackmail to get out of so much stuff

after that incident, schlatt gets better at hiding the kittens

there are still some slip ups tho

phil: “is that cat hair on the floor?”

schlatt, hiding a kitten in his apron: “no... hopefully”

after his shift he always brings the kittens to the local animal shelter

he also volunteers there during his free time

one time niki comes in to adopt a cat and walks in only to see schlatt holding 3 small kittens

one in each hand, and another climbing up his shoulder

they just -stare- at eachother

needless to say, another person gains blackmail on schlatt that day

trade-offs

tommy, tubbo, and wilbur haggle and trade doing certain tasks

mainly sweeping the store and stocking the chips display

these trades get VERY intense

“i’ll start on freezer pulls if you sweep and mop” “only if you do prep work tomorrow” “deal!”

“i’ll let you bake bread and cookies if you also stock the chip display” “ugh, fine”

one day phil comes in to do inventory just to see the three boys standing by the task list screaming at each other

luckily only bad and skeppy were in the shop

schlatt and wilbur origins

when schlatt  first started working at subway, he always got paired with wilbur on shifts

(this is before tommy and tubbo started working at subway)

they got along like a house on fire

they always made up bets to complete while they worked

on their first shift alone they decided to play a hellish rendition of “the floor is lava”

whoever lost had to buy the others meals for a month

skeppy and bad agreed to be the referees for the day

they took extra chairs from the back and placed them around the shop so they could get around without touching the floor

they even put chairs behind the bain (the area behind the counter)

after they set everything up, the game began

from then on, they spent the whole day perched on chairs

customers were

very confused

to say the least

many tasks were done poorly or not at all in an attempt to win the bet

the two survive until the end of the day with no major failures

in a last ditch attempt to win, schlatt made a dramatic final speech and pushed wilbur from the chair he was standing on

skeppy recorded the whole speech

unfortunately, wilbur hit the floor just as phil arrived

the manager in question was PISSED

wilbur and schlatt were banned from working together in the future

feel free to send my asks about this au!! also, if you write/draw anything for this au, please tag me!!! i’d love it see it :D

tag list :)

@i-am-a-wizard @eva-ticket @oakskull @thesmpisonfire @trademarked-but-not-really @orange-is-salty-tm @pixelatedrose @hollow-hypocrite @astrono @nootella23 @hot-dumbass @jen-dot-net @karlljacobs @gearstorm @nico-nat @marvel-snowbaz

[trivialbob]

I follow a few Facebook groups. One is MSP Burgers. People post pictures of amazing cheeseburgers at area restaurants. Today I saw one I really wanted to try.

Matt and I drove to an ice cream shop that on weekends sells cheeseburgers. Bebe Zito reminded me of the SNL Billy Goat Tavern skit because you can’t order any other sandwich. The only option was single or double patty. I ordered a single. The delicious burger wasn’t huge, making me wish I’d ordered a double. Opposite of the Billy Goat Tavern you could order Coke, no Pepsi. There’s no indoor seating so Matt and I enjoyed a sidewalk table in the sun.

The first picture is from Google Streetview. I wanted to see what the place looked like before we got there. The Google car captured the moment a woman dropped her iPhone in the street. If that were me I’d frame that shot and hang it on my wall.

Next to the ice cream (and weekend cheeseburger) shop is Caffetto, seen behind the white Subaru. I went inside to look around. It definitely is no chain coffee shop. The place smelled so good I ordered a cup despite it being afternoon. The menu was in chalk. A table near the door offered a few free coats to anyone who needed something warm. There was so much Plexiglass on the bar it made the barista look like he was working at that convenience store in the The Wire. The basement had a pinball arcade. I used to love pinball so I needed to see. It was like a pinball dungeon. Walls, ceiling and floor--all painted black. One or two dim overhead lights attempted to brighten things. Half the machines weren’t plugged in. I left with as many quarters in my pocket as I had when I arrived.

After that we drove around a bit. The MN National Guard was stationed at the busy intersection of Lake and Lyndale. The soldiers seemed in a good mood and passersby said hi to them. Give it a few days though. Humvees and other military vehicles were on the roads and parked on city streets.

Earlier in the day the Aussies and I went--as usual on weekends--to the airport dog park. Someone else’s Aussie found some mud and had a grand old time walking in it and drinking the black water.

Oliver would never participate in such nonsense. Ella wanted to try it. Oh you know, just go so hi to the other dog, right? Thankfully she listened to me and stayed clean. As a reward I brought her to Lake Harriet tonight so she could swim in much cleaner water. She’s been jonesing for a swim ever since the ice melted.

[inastrangerskiss]

the grocery store

Timothy Thatcher x Reader

content warning: final got my writing mojo back so i present, unto all of you, more fluff and some sweet unrequited love. this was four pages in google docs so this might be a long haul.

summary: after three years of just being friends a grocery shopping trip with tim might be what finally drives you over the edge

Tim put the car in park and let out a heavy sigh as he stared out at the grocery store. It was as if he were sizing up the people walking in and out, their carts bouncing on the pavement, wondering if the adventure he had embarked on was possibly too big for him to endure.

A warm hand fell on his breaking him from his reverie. He turned and looked at you with a weak attempt at displaying happiness. You knew he hated these crowded places, full of people stuck too far up in their own lives to acknowledge you when you needed to squeeze by.

“C’mon. Party starts in a few hours. Marcel won’t be happy if we show up without his list of demands fulfilled.” You smirked, waving the shopping list in the air.

Tim let out a quick smile and a nod, unbuckling his seat belt. You paused for a moment because the way the sun hit his face the moment he leaned forward to open his door illuminated him just right so that his eyes turned to amber and his hair to gold and you had to shake your head to get the thoughts free from it. He opened your door for you, standing watch behind it, careful not to look at you directly for too long.

It had been three long years of this. You had met through Marcel at a movie or a county fair or a concert - you couldn’t be sure anymore. When Tim's presence had been introduced into your world you thought maybe you had been deprived of senses your whole life. The sandwich truck you rarely stopped at during your lunch breaks suddenly became the only food you craved because Tim would meet you there, a thousand watt smile plastered to his face. You had never noticed the smell of the beach roses on the walk up to the shore before but suddenly it was the only perfume you wanted sprayed against your pillows as you slept because of the time Tim picked one and handed it to you on a group outing to the water. The way the sun’s rays felt against your skin and the air conditioning of a car’s vents and the rain dripping down your forehead when you forgot an umbrella never had meaning until they were sewn into moments that you shared with him.

But for him it was just another sandwich truck. It was just another day at the beach. It was just another day out in the world, just another car ride, just another rainy day. He dated other girls and you watched them come and go, the same comforting hug wrapped around his shoulders after every break up.

Tim pushed the cart and you pointed him in the right direction through the produce section, gathering the vegetables Marcel had requested. Tim slyly lifted a bag of carrots into the cart and you rolled your eyes.

“You really need to try it.” He muttered with a laugh, shaking off your aspersions. He was referencing carrots and peanut butter, a choice you would never make because you considered yourself sane and of good moral standing.

“Not a chance, Thatcher.”

He let another laugh escape from his throat and you felt goosebumps prickle over your skin. That sound haunted your dreams. Any joke you ever told, any funny face you ever made, any clumsy mistake that befell you was always met with the same need, the same desire, to just hear his laugh, even if it was a short, barking one. In fact, those were your favorite because they were always followed up by him covering his mouth and blushing as if he had witnessed or heard something he shouldn’t have.

You stood over the avocados, meticulously selecting the ones that were just-ripe-enough while Tim gently bumped the cart into the back of your legs. After the fourth or fifth nudge you turned towards him, your arms folded and lips pursed.

“If you wouldn’t do that maybe I’d be done here sooner.” You snapped, finishing with a tiny hint of a grin so he knew you weren’t too serious.

He stood and approached you as you worried whether or not he could sense your heart beating faster. He studied the avocados with you, running a finger over their bumpy shells before snaking an arm errantly around your waist. He didn’t speak for the longest time, his nose close enough to the display to nearly touch it. Finally, after what felt like an hour of sheer adrenaline pumping through your veins he turned to you, a shit-eating look on his face.

“They all look like dinosaur eggs to me. Just grab a few and let's go.” He chirped before pulling away and returning to his position at the helm of the shopping cart.

You wanted to grab his arm and slap it back to your side because that's where it belonged but he was gone before your brain could reset and demand what it deserved. You took a breath and made your choices and took off without a word to the next aisle. Tim followed, avoiding hitting the other weekend shoppers as they wove in and out of his way.

A can of jalapenos, a jar of olives, Tim’s t-shirt, too soft for words brushing against your arm. Two boxes of frozen appetizers, a box of frozen spinach and artichoke dip, Tim’s cologne wafting into your nose, making the corners of your lips betray you, twitching upwards. The shiny foil of greasy potato chips, the glass encased mass produced salsa that Marcel loved and you hated, the prickle of Tim’s bearded chin resting on your shoulder as you decided which bag of tortilla chips to buy.

It was becoming too much to bear. Three years of this. Three years of Tim causing a flurry of panic inside your chest and not taking any responsibility for it.

You swatted at him with the shopping list, no longer interested in playing his games. He didn’t move. You ran through your arsenal of possible moves before turning on your heel to face him, nearly headbutting him in the process.

“Get off of me.” You spoke quickly, with a sharp tongue. This time there was no smile following your words.

Tim backed away, his eyes unsure. You couldn’t blame him. You were always a good sport with his schoolyard flirtations but the more you gave in the harder you knew it would be to pull yourself back out when the next girl entered his life. He gave a courteous nod as though he understood your actions but how could he when you didn’t.

The rest of the trip was silent aside from the monotone directives you fired towards him, indicating what aisle to turn down, what check out lane to enter, where to put the bags in the trunk. The drive was no better but at least you had the ability to turn up the music and drown out the quiet. He had gotten into an accident once with you in the front seat, nothing more than a minor fender bender, but he had turned to you as if he had flipped the car three times with your head out the window. He had immediately unbuckled his seat belt and leaned towards you, his hand cupping the side of your face as you laughed nervously, telling him you were fine. The feel of his fingers pressed against your skin lived in your mind for months after. It became an addiction, something you needed again in the worst way. He never had gotten the resulting dent buffed out.

You kept your distance for the rest of the night. You helped Marcel in the kitchen and when you were no longer needed there you took your seat in the backyard, listening to the ocean lapping gently at the sand in the distance. You occasionally caught glimpses of Tim laughing carelessly with his friends, not a single concern drawn across his face. You wanted to be in there too, listening to the sweet symphony of his amusement but you couldn’t handle that tonight. You needed the peace and the quiet. You needed the empty air and the loneliness because if you were to ever get over him you would have to learn to embrace this first.

After possibly an hour of solace, the sliding door opened and closed. You didn’t look, assuming it was a stranger stepping out for a cigarette break, but soon you felt a warm hand fall on yours. There was Tim, a glass of whiskey in his clutches, a second placed in front of you, and a shy smile on his face.

He sat beside you slowly, easing gently into the seat as you cautiously took the drink provided for you.

“What’re you doing out here?” You asked, not making eye contact.

“My favorite person wasn’t in there so I had to come out and find her.” His voice soaked into your bones like the warmest blanket or the tightest embrace.

You could only roll your eyes. “Don’t say shit like that.” You murmured into your glass.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, clearly taking some sort of offense. “What’s that supposed to mean? I was missing you. I worried you had left.”

“Where would I have gone, Tim?”

“I don’t know. Home. There’s lots of guys here. I thought maybe you’d left with them or something.” His voice trailed off into a bitterness that was almost decadent to your ears.

You turned towards him, suddenly realizing how close he was to you and how badly you wanted his lips to be on yours. You could feel his breath mixing with the ocean breeze and landing on your face and you wanted to know what it would be like to drink the sensation.

“And what if I had? You probably would’ve left with some girl and you would’ve forgotten about me anyways.” You shrugged as though it meant nothing to you but you found yourself desperately searching his face for something to tell you you were wrong.

He faltered for a moment, looking at you and then his glass.

“That’s not true.” He spoke, his voice almost a whisper.

You refused to believe what your impulses told you but the way they screamed in your ears was deafening. Somehow you had fallen back into the same trap he always laid. The one where you thought for a second too long that maybe he felt the same way you did.

“I, you know, I care about you.” He finally added. “I really care about you a lot. I would hate the idea of you going home with someone who wasn’t m- with someone else. With some guy, I guess.”

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself, that same adrenaline from earlier coursing back through your body. “Stop, Tim. You’re drunk.”

“This is my first drink.” He gestured to the whiskey he had hardly touched.

You looked at the glass but refused to look him in the eye. You felt the grass between your toes, an intoxicating feeling that you silently cursed him for ruining for you with his presence.

“Remember that day at the beach? With Marcel and the other guys?” He asked quietly, his voice like a child wading into the rough chop of the sea for the first time. “I picked you that flower and you held onto it for the rest of the day? That moment meant more to me than anything I’ve ever experienced. And I felt dumb for caring that much but I remember watching you flatten the petals like it was more than a flower and how you tucked it into your ponytail when you got in the water and you kept checking to make sure it was there after every wave. It was important to me.”

Your heart stopped.

“That was years ago and you remembered?”

“Are you saying you didn’t?”

You turned to him just a little too quickly, your lips grazing his so gently you couldn’t tell if you had imagined it. But with one final glance into your eyes, as if checking to see if his movements were acceptable, he leaned in, making sure you knew this was actually happening. It was the softest kiss you could have dreamt of but it was the only kiss you had ever dreamt of. His hand found the back of your head pulling you closer but not so close that you couldn’t pull away if you wanted. But of course you didn’t want to.

He tasted like honey and beach roses, like every good morning you’d ever had and every favorite memory you’d ever held onto. His lips moved slowly, gently, allowing you to make every first move. Finally, as if to assure yourself you hadn’t made up the entire scenario, you pulled away to take stock. He grinned sheepishly, a blush creeping across his face, visible even in the dark. You couldn’t help but laugh, tracing a finger over his cheeks. You knew he knew and this time you were happy about the fact.

“I told you I was missing my favorite person.” He leaned in once more but this time to press a kiss to your forehead and then quickly to your lips. “I just had to find her.”