#jade: crispy

[rhythmicmeow]

Ew. EW! Why would you say that. I'm sorry but the crunch is the best. Actually, I'm not sorry. You should be sorry. Your taste buds are broken. Do you like cilantro or are you one of those: it tastes likes soap :( people? I gotta know how deep and terrible this goes.

Oh, I love those. As a west coast girly myself. Shame that you're being so loud and wrong on main though. Because it's soggy all the way, baby.

[minho-knows]

KAT MCNAMARA AS LAYLA IN ‘JADE’ (2024)

[eoieopda]

the fact that

THIS

shows up in my top posts ☠️

[luveline]

Jade Congrats !!!!! Just yesterday I was thinking about how much I miss vampire Eddie, can I request something w him and shy reader? Maybe when he's feeling like he's dangerous for reader and she has to reassure him that she trust him and adores him <3

tysm lovely! ♡ 1.2k

It physically pains you to call the same person multiple times. Each loop of the trill makes you antsy, eager to shove down the receiver and curl into a sorry, sad ball. You let it ring. When it goes to answer phone, you type in Eddie's number and call again. 

It picks up. Breathless, a little surprised, you ask, "Eddie?" 

"Hey, sweetheart." 

He sounds defeated. You're not perfect with tone but the subtleties of his stick stark like a neon sign. Your boyfriend has bouts of depression that often manifest in a lethargic voice like this. 

"Hi, Eddie. I was just calling to make sure you're home before I come over." Usually, you'd ask, but you don't want him to say no. It feels rude and weird and overbearing, but you know what he's thinking. Leaving your comfort zone for his sake isn't easy, and you do it anyway. "I made you something." 

"Okay. I can't wait to see it… can't wait to see you. Sorry I didn't answer this morning, I was sleeping." 

"That's fine. I'm just happy you're okay, I was worrying about you." 

You pack his gift into a bag with a tupperware of cookies and a thermos of hot chocolate. Eddie's home is close to yours. Within ten minutes you're knocking on his door with wind-bitten cheeks, the September cold nipping your heels. Leaves from the trees in the surrounding woodlands dance crispy at your feet, orange and brown mulch that sticks to your treads. 

Eddie unlocks the door to let you in. You see his hand first, deathly pale, black obsidian rings crowding his fingers where they curl around the door. For a second it's like he's going to turn you away, but he widens the gap and you squeeze inside. 

He forgets whatever's wrong to touch your face. "Hey," he says, his hand slipping to cup under your jaw. 

"Hi. You okay? You look pale." 

"Am I usually more tan?" he asks, dropping his hand. "Fine. Blood sate in a few days. For now I'm eating rare steak and wishing I was dead." 

He's kidding around, but you take his hand and squeeze his cold fingers. 

"You're as cold as me," he says. 

"It's nearly October outside. You'd know if you left the house." 

He hums at your telling off, the two of you toe to toe just behind the front door. He sounds vaguely admonished and more curious, kneading your fingers in his with an unmissable amount of love. "Come on," he says, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, "you need a blanket." 

You take off your shoes and coat, following Eddie through his living room, past the bathroom and into his bedroom. It's immaculately clean for once, but when you left the day before yesterday it was chaos. Something tells you he hasn't been sleeping as much as he claims. 

"What have you been doing in here?" you ask, putting your backpack on the bed. Eddie moves behind you, taller, a sweetheart through and through as he gets his hands on your shoulders and digs his thumbs in lightly. 

"I need to apologise to you," he says. 

"That's a big word." 

"I lied to you earlier, I wasn't sleeping, but I've been thinking… I needed to think." 

Well, what he's saying is nerve-wracking, but his hands aren't telling the same story. He's doing it on purpose for sure. "You don't have to say sorry for wanting time to think. Uh–" 

"Relax," he says. "Please. I just want to talk to you about something. Don't be nervous." 

"I'm constantly nervous." 

"I know." Eddie's hands pause at the space below your shoulder blades. It's strange not to be looking at him. He takes a deep breath. "Is that because of me?" 

You take your thermos out of your bag and turn. His pupils are small as they tend to be before a blood sate, his lips chapped. He starts to look poorly when he's hungry. The cookies and hot drink should help. 

"If it was because of you, how come I was like this before we met?" you ask gently, offering him the thermos.

"Do I make it worse?" 

"Of course you don't." How do you describe it to him? He's handsome and sweet and he makes you feel like you're something special. He's smart. He's fucking funny. Nothing about his demeanour or who he is has ever made you nervous, you've only ever worried you wouldn't measure up. 

It's hard to say out loud. Tentative, you put your hands on his waist. When he lifts his chin, you hug him close, strangely close to tears at the smell of him under your nose. 

"Eds, why would you think that? Have I made you think that?" you murmur.

"You know what I am." He tosses your thermos on the bed to cover your shoulders. 

"Yeah, I do."

"You wouldn't tell me if I scared you–" 

You flinch backward. "You think you scare me?" 

The starts of his eyebrows rise, his little box of wrinkles pinched, and his pupils slowly widening. When he speaks, it's with the practised cadence of a well-worn worry, "I'm not normal. You don't have to pretend that this is normal." 

"It doesn't feel normal to me," you say, placing your hand on his chest, fingertips against his shirt but palm hovering a half inch above. "It just feels like love. I love you, and I trust you. Is that what's worrying you?" 

"No," he says, winded. "I'm worried I'll hurt you. I know you trust me too much, you're," —he takes your face into big hands, kissing you very softly between words— "not the problem." 

You hug again. Cheek to cheek, an arm slung over his shoulder protectively. 

You miss your happy, weirdo boyfriend when he gets like this, but you understand why it happens. You don't resent him, don't mind, really, that he needs to be told these things. You'll be cheesy and soft as long as he needs it. 

"You're not the problem, either. You're a really good guy with a big heart and a propensity for catastrophizing," you say, your voice tipping into a teasing ire that borders theatrical.

He laughs like he was supposed to and steps back. Face I'm his hands, you turn your cheek into his left palm and smile into his syrupy brown eyes. 

"I haven't given you your gift." 

"I love you," he says. Licking his lips, "What gift?" 

You made him a coaster out of air dry clay, black and lacquered with a glaze that gleams like mother of pearl. He reads it and snorts, his top lip peeling back to expose the barest hint of a sharp tooth. "I heart my paranormal boyfriend," he reads, his voice gritty with humour. "Bit on the nose." 

You get a kiss for your efforts, firmer than the one he'd given you minutes before. Eddie's gonna be just fine in a couple of days, but for now you'll stick close. You don't want him getting the wrong idea —he doesn't scare you even slightly. 

[rachalixie]

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful jade @tasteleeknow my heart my soul my shared brain cell i love you dearly i hope you have the absolute best day <3

you wake up to the sun for the first time in a while, no alarm there to jolt you from whatever rest your body catches onto for the night. your senses come to you one by one, the warmth of the sunlight peeking through the blinds, the softness of your duvet, the sound of pans and pattering feet eching softly from outside, creating a disjointed melody you would never get tired of hearing. it’s a song you’re used to in the mornings, but somehow it feels more special, more personal, today.

you take your time stretching yourself awake, brushing your teeth, taming your wild bed-mussed hair into something presentable before exiting your room. you’re immediately attacked with a wall of delicious scent, and you find yourself gaping before you even take a glance at the magnificent (and somewhat unnecessary, given that there’s only two of you) spread of food he’s presented on the table. and him, wearing a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt whose sleeves are too long for his arms and he has to keep pushing them back to have his hands free.

his eyes find yours almost immediately as he turns around, leaving behind the plate he was adjusting for the fifth time, like he can sense your presence in the room even though you’ve made no sound. there’s tiny galaxies swimming in his irises as he takes you in, the fondness clear as day through his wide smile.

“happy birthday, mine,” he croons, bouncing over to wrap strong arms around your entire body, trapping your arms against you as he practically lifts you up in his death squeeze. you blame that on the way your breath is taken away, but you know deep down that getting to see him in the morning does it to you every day, whether it’s waking up to him sleeping next to you or seeing him drowsy and squinty eyed as he makes coffee for both of you.

and the name he calls you, mine. a blatant display of his possessiveness for you, proof that he feels just as strongly for you as you do him, four letters that never fail to make your heart sing.

“you didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble when he lets you go, flattered and a bit embarrassed but so, so happy. there’s tall stacks of pancakes dotted with berries, fluffy eggs and crispy bacon, seared tomatoes and cut up fruit and steaming mugs with beautiful latte art decorated with care. it’s too much, just enough, all at once and your heart squeezes again in your chest.

“you didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble when he lets you go, flattered and a bit embarrassed but so, so happy. there’s tall stacks of pancakes dotted with berries, fluffy eggs and crispy bacon, seared tomatoes and cut up fruit and steaming mugs with beautiful latte art decorated with care. it’s too much, just enough, all at once and your heart squeezes again in your chest.

“of course i did,” he says, voice strong and adamant with a twist of shyness. “it’s for you. even this is not enough.”

and that’s it, isn’t it? his gentle love language, the way he pours his love into the things he does for you, in the ways he can’t explain with his words because he doesn’t know how. the way he presents you with things and massages and hugs, almost expecting rejection and lighting up when you do anything but that. hiding his pleased expression with sarcastic quips that you can see right through. you want to tell him that he could have presented you with a soggy piece of bread and you would still feel this way, special and important and loved.

you raise your hands to cup his cheeks instead, your language for him, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs. his big eyes shine at you as if he’s looking at the sun, straight on and unblinking like he knows he might go blind but he doesn’t care one bit. he turns his head in your hands to press a kiss to one palm reverently, then the other, the only gift you want or need from him given so early in the day (although, you’ve seen the wrapped box he poorly hid in your shared closet days ago and chose to ignore it for his sake).

he leads you to the table, helping you sit before taking the seat next to you and serving you a heaping plate. you reach for your fork, but he stops you, taking his own and holding a bite out for you instead. you raise a brow at him as if to say really? but he just holds your gaze and tips the fork closer to your mouth. you let him feed you with a roll of the eyes and hold back a moan of appreciation when the pancake almost melts in your mouth, the tang of a blueberry complimenting the syrup he generously drizzled on top.

he’s smiling at you knowingly and you know you’re blushing, but you ignore him in favor of opening your mouth up for another bite, letting him take care of you.

it is your birthday, after all.

—

soft hours

[calcifiedunderland]

Five-Star Meal

Food Fight Ending II

You noticed that Azul had sent you text, and opened it immediately. You didn’t fear the worst, per se, but it was good to check.

Azul: Hello Prefect, I hope I’ve contacted you at a good time. I would like to set a time to meet with you again, would tomorrow work with you?

Azul: I may have to amend our contract, if you would allow me. Something between our transaction has come up, that I cannot deny anymore.

You frowned, scanning the message again. Your mind wandered, does he know why I made the deal with him? It was true that you were struggling a bit in Trein’s history lessons, and sure Alchemy was hard, but you could’ve handled it on your own. But somehow, despite that, you were sort of glad to have an excuse to talk to Azul after having him on your mind for so long.

You kicked your feet as you responded with a Sure. You wondered what it would be about. Your eyes slowly drooped. As you went to sleep, you thought, guess I’ll find out soon.

Azul tore his eyes from the phone screen, pushing up his glasses. It’s getting late, he glanced at the clock as he stood to leave his office desk. The Lounge would close soon, and he needed as much time as possible to prepare for you tomorrow.

He stepped into the Mostro Lounge kitchens, finding Floyd humming while he sautéed some vegetables. Jade was by the ingredients rack, holding a mushroom that was undoubtedly from his latest club excursion. Azul cleared his throat, “the Prefect has agreed to meet me tomorrow.”

The words went unspoken between the three of them. The twins shared a grin, and for a moment Azul almost regretted telling them. “It pleases me to hear you’ve moved up the timeline, Azul,” Jade chuckled, “will you be needing assistance?” Azul glanced at Floyd, and immediately he complained.

“No way I’m wakin’ up early to work, even if it’s for Shrimpy!” Floyd whined. Azul shrugged calmly, “perhaps you could have a week off from working?” Floyd went quiet, crossing his arms, pouting. Azul sighed, “two weeks?” Floyd grinned, “m’kay!”

Jade chuckled, stopping when Azul said “I’ll need your assistance, too.” After seeing the look on Jade’s face, Azul sighed in exasperation, “fine, I’ll let you put mushrooms in the Lounge food for a week.” Jade beamed.

—💜🐙✨—

The next day, you woke up really craving fries and pasta. Specifically, the fries and pasta you had when you were studying with Azul. Luckily, there’s some leftover in the fridge. The pasta was wonderfully rich after you warmed it, but the fries lost their crispiness. Still, the savory taste satisfied you.

You patted Grim on the head and dropped him off to Alchemy remediation. You got him to stop whining out why do you get to go an’ eat while I hafta work?! by telling him you were meeting Azul. After that, you headed through Octavinelle, going through the same aquarium halls you and Azul walked through earlier. You thought you’d find Azul at the entrance waiting to escort you, but instead you found him pacing by the private booths mumbling to himself.

“Azul?” He stopped abruptly, plastering a charming smile on his face. “Prefect! Please, sit down.” He pulled out a chair for you, seating you at a small round table. Much like your study dates (you felt warm when you realized you thought of them as dates), Azul served your dish to you. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could eat before discussing?”

The two of you settled into a quiet peacefulness. Your silverware clattered against the dishes heard over soft music played by the Lounge speakers. Your appetizer was delicious - perfectly juicy, the vegetables crunching delicately as you chewed. In the lull, Azul focused on you, smiling softly as he picked at his dish nervously.

You noted Azul’s quietness. He almost always had something to say. He cleared his throat softly, before pushing his plate away. “Before we get to the main course, I would like to speak with you.” You put down your fork, as he took the plates away and sat back down. He pulled out your golden contract, and the fishbone quill.

You looked at him with confusion. “You said something came up? Did…” you went quiet, feeling nervous, “have I violated the contract?” Azul shook his head, feeling even more nervous, “no, (Name)… rather,” he took a deep breath, looking away “I violated the contract.”

Your eyebrows shot up as Azul continued. “I have been using the contract for my own personal gain, because I…” he glanced back at you, “I wanted to become closer to you. I used it to spend time with you.”

“I think I violated the contract too, then.” Azul stopped in disbelief. You confessed, “I wanted to spend time with you too.” You couldn’t hide the smile growing on your face, and it encouraged him to speak. Azul took a deep breath, “I like you, (Name).” Even though a weight suddenly lifted off of him, it still made both of you flustered.

A blush grew on his face, “a-and if you agree,” he cleared his throat, “perhaps we could… make a new contract?” You grinned dazzlingly at him, launching yourself out of your chair and wrapping your arms around him. You laughed as you heard him yelp before hugging you back. You kissed the mole under his lips, “of course.”

💜🐙✨

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Jade Leech - "A Love That Always Seems To Taste Better on Toast"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain eel merperson experiences a picnic for the very first time. Or; In which Jade Leech gets to live out one of his many domestic fantasies with the love of his life.

Warnings -> Suggestive if you squint hard enough.

                                                                                                   

🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬

"Here, I'll feed it to you. Say aah~"

[Name] coos as they lift a slice of toast slathered with peach jam to Jade's mouth; a sweet, loving smile playing on their lips.

The dual-color-eyed man sports a love-struck smile; eyes hooded as his cheeks and ears bloom a brilliant red hue. His lips graciously parted to accept the offered food in front of him.

"Aaaaaaah~"

He hums playfully, sinking his pointed teeth into the crispy, sweetened bread and pulling a fairly large-sized piece away; all while his hand is gently clasped around their wrist.

[Name] and Jade were in the campus greenhouse, having a picnic. Something, [Name] had found, that the eel merperson had no experience of while having a conversation about the ways someone could pass their time back in their old world.

So, as of now, the two were sat upon a classic red and white plaid blanket; a large woven basket holding various jars of homemade jam, an entire loaf's worth of toast, a small wedge of cheese, and some sandwiches, sat off to the side within arms reach. A large pitcher of cider sat next to the basket; the beverage's deep, rich color contrasted with the vibrant yellow lemon slices that floated atop the liquid.

"Hmm, delicious. And you said you made all of this yourself? My~ how talented you are, Angel Fish."

Jade purrs; long tongue darting out to lick the leftover jam and bread crumbs from the corner of his lips.

"Although...."

A sultry smirk bloomed onto his lips as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against [Name]'s warming ears while his arms encircle their waist; pulling them onto his thighs.

"....I think I know of something that should taste even better. And would you look at that, it's sitting right on my lap and looking downright scrumptious.~"

🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[sunnywindow]

chestnuts. a mirror's reflection

october 7th's prompt, chestnuts, a mirror's reflection.

You were walking around campus one day when something fell on top of your head and landed pathetically onto the ground with a sad ‘thud’. 

Looking down at the cold stone path, it was a chestnut that had fallen from a tree above. Its dull sheen and little luster caused you to scoff at it indignantly. What a tiny little pathetic thing, you thought childishly, as if it could hear your quickly grown malice.

You were about to kick it when someone’s large hand came into view and you kicked that, instead.

“Uh-” But before you could finished, a wide-eyed glaring Floyd, genus muraenidae, stood up tall angry.

“What’s the big deal, huh?” he spat out straight into your soul.

You stared at him eye to eye. His mood swings were nothing short of both unfashionable and unfavorable. They were bound to be short-lived. Even so, they were never pleasant.

“I was going to kick that chestnut when your hand suddenly appeared,” you rehearsed almost robotically. “My bad.”

When you blinked he returned to kicks and giggles, all giddy with a childish grin etched on his head.

“Hey, hey,” he grinned with that droopy look in his eyes. “Wanna join? I’m collecting chestnuts.”

“Chestnuts? Why?” you asked, but it sounded less of a question and more of a judgment. Chestnuts had a dull, lackluster sheen to them, and rotted quickly under more circumstances. 

He sighed, frowning a bit. “Jade made me read this book on ‘em, an’ I’m hungry. What gives?”

“They’re… Well, they’re chestnuts.” Unflattering name aside, you could not name a single good encounter that you’ve ever had with them. Whether it be the underwhelming plainness of the nut itself, of the fact that they were all soggy and mushy when store bought, chestnuts were never ‘it’. They weren’t pistachios, or salted peanuts, or macadamias, or anything relatively appealing.

Floyd frowned. “Well, it’s a free world,” he said. “You gonna join me, or beat it?”

Ah, there was the telltale level of bluntness Floyd so oft portrayed. 

You stared at him as he squatted down onto the ground to pick up chestnut after chestnut after chestnut.

He was treating them like little brown jewels of tiger’s eye, and that was borderline unacceptable.

“Sure, why not,” the words betrayed you and spilt out before you could react. A chill shivered deep within your bones in the cool autumn weather.

“Sick.”

The two of you spent a good thirty minutes under the shade of tall, orange trees and a gray sky. You gathered the chestnuts in your now dirtied school bag, while Floyd put them all into a makeshift basket from his dusty jacket.

By the time the two of you finished, you were proud of the collection of pristine little chestnut jewels in your bag. Meanwhile, some of the chestnuts from Floyd’s collection, none of them perfect by a long shot, fell out of his diy basket.

“That’s quite a collection, Floyd,” you stated the obvious, to which Floyd frowned.

Then, he scowled.

And then he pouted.

The sun had almost begun setting, with everything, from crispy leaves and tall trees, to Floyd’s silhouette itself, being painted golden hues of copper, iron and bronze. You could just vaguely see his breath condensating against the cold autumn air. His quick smile flashed ever so slightly before he let out a fuller, toothy grin.

“‘Kay, here ya go.” Floyd dumped the mess of chestnuts onto your bag. “Bye.”

Most of them bounced off your bag and cracked against the stone cold floor.

You just stared at him unbelievingly as he sauntered jovially away.

The dull sheen of the chestnuts mocked you in the sunset, as you were left to your own thoughts. They were not, by any chance, particularly pleasant thoughts.

You scowled at your bag, and dumped the dirty chestnuts onto the ground to be trodden upon the next morning.

[scoonsalicious]

Reminder: I am on a posting break for new content until May 23rd so that I can focus on writing WFLT...

In the meantime, please enjoy this third installment of Unwanted: Unusables, or, chapters from the original story that never made it to the final draft. Today, we're looking at an alternate Chapter 7: (what would become) Unburdened. This draft immediately follows the events of yesterday's Unusable.

I ended up scrapping this entire version of the chapter, because I decided to go in a different direction in Chapter 5, so everything had to be redone. But, it has one of my favorite scenes-- Girls' Night, so I'm glad that I could eventually share it with you, besties!

Enjoy!

When you woke up the following morning, you felt lighter than you could remember feeling in a long, long time. It was as if the maelstrom of agitation that had been coursing through you since Bucky first saw Jade's profile had finally abated, and you were waking to the calm following the storm, everything feeling newly cleansed by the rain.

Granted, your head was killing you with a tremendous hangover, but your soul felt lighter, and that's what should count the most, right?

You stretched, reaching out for Bucky, but finding only empty sheets where his body had been the night before. With a frown, you craned your head to see if he was in the bathroom, but no-- the door was open and the room beyond it dark. Against your will, you felt the weight of your insecurities begin to hover over you once again. Perhaps it was time to talk to Tony to see if you could borrow his Dr. FRIDAY therapy program for yourself. You were definitely in need of some kind of professional help.

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you contemplated whether or not you should change out of Bucky's shirt before you trekked back across the hall to your own room so you could mope. The odds of anyone seeing you were slim, since you were still the only two people living on this floor, but there was no guarantee someone wouldn't be around looking for either one of you. You wondered what would have people talking more-- the sight of you in only Bucky's shirt, or you leaving his room in the clothes you'd worn the night before. Not that it really mattered, you supposed. You were fairly confident from the team's reactions at dinner last night that the majority of them knew the two of you were having sex, or at the very least suspected it, anyway.

Before you could make your decision, however, Bucky's door opened and he walked in, carrying a breakfast tray laden with bacon and eggs and an overly-large water bottle.

"You're up," he said, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "I was hoping I'd be back before you woke, but I figured you could use some sustenance for what's probably a major hangover." He slid the tray onto the bed before crawling back in next to you.

"Did you seriously bring me breakfast in bed, Barnes?" you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. That was beyond adorable of him.

"'course I did," he said, picking up a slice of bacon and taking a bite. "Figure your head's got to be killing you, since you never drink that much. Here." He unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and passed it to you. "Electrolytes. Drink up." You took a swig of the lemony-lime flavored Liquid IV he'd prepared for you.

"Thank you," you said. "This is incredibly sweet, but I could have gotten up to get breakfast myself; you didn't have to go to all the trouble."

"I confess, my motives aren't that altruistic," he said, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "I have no intention of letting you get out of this bed at all today, and I figured you should have at least something in your stomach before I launch my nefarious plan." His eyes twinkled with mischievous intent, making your heart flutter in anticipation.

"Your nefarious plan, huh?" Your eyebrow arched in curiosity as you took another bite of bacon, cooked extra crispy, exactly the way you liked. "And what might that be?"

"Well," he started, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear.

"Since I was an absolute ass and made you feel like shit yesterday, I had hoped I could spend today making you feel good. I could lie and say I planed a day spent snuggled up together watching movies, but in reality I was thinking we could explore the possibility of other more... intimate activities."

A blush crept over your cheeks as you met his gaze. The promise lingering in his icy blue eyes sent a thrill down your spine, making you momentarily forget about the pounding headache. "That sounds...enticing," you admitted. "You have my attention."

"Good," he grinned, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip. "Because I also remember a promise made to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name."

The heat that instantaneously flooded your cheeks at his words made you glad you hadn't bothered changing out of his shirt, after all. You tried to play it cool, to match his relaxed nonchalance, even as your heart pounded like a drum within your chest.

"I do seem to recall you saying something to that effect last night, now that you mention it," you said, trying to sound casually thoughtful in spite of the tidal wave of arousal that was rushing throughout your body.

Bucky nodded, the smile on his face growing wider by the second. "Let it never be said that I'm not a man of my word." You turned, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulled away from you. "Nu-uh, doll," he tsked. "You need to hydrate and protein-load first, then I'll ruin you."

"I dunno, Buck," you contemplated as you dug into a forkful of scrambled eggs. "You may have already ruined me. I could get used to this kind of treatment real fast."

"Sweetheart, if one breakfast in bed has ruined you, you've been spending all your time with the wrong kind of man," he drawled.

"Well, I think we both know that's the understatement of the year," you laughed.

Bucky chuckled, a hearty sound that reverberated through the room and eased any lingering insecurities that had arisen when you woke up alone. He was right; you were spending time with the right kind of man now. You turned to find him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, sweet, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You found yourself blushing again, quickly turning your attention back to the breakfast tray in an attempt to hide it. "Says the man who looks like he fell straight off a GQ cover," you teased lightly.

Even though his smile never wavered, there was a depth to his gaze that made your heart race. "Noticed that, did you?" He asked, his tone teasing as he took another bite of his bacon.

It was your turn to chuckle now, the sound soft and full of warmth. "Maybe once or twice," you said with a shrug.

"I ever tell you you make make grateful I fell off that train?"

Your heart momentarily stopped at his words. You looked at him, really looked, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. His tone was so casual, as if he were commenting on the weather, but the weight of his words were monumental.

"What?" you managed to gasp out, completely thrown off balance, breakfast momentarily forgotten.

He chuckled softly at your bewilderment, his fingers reaching out to gently caress your face. "I shoulda been dead long before you were ever even born, doll. Fallin' off that train, becoming the Winter Soldier, it was hell, but if it'd hadn't happened, I never would of gotten to meet you. That's made it all worth it."

You stammered, trying to find words that could match the intensity of the moment. "Bucky... That's..."

"True," he finished for you, his gaze steady on yours. "You are my silver lining, sweetheart. The best thing this twisted life has given me."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt admission. This was Bucky - raw and open-hearted - sharing something profoundly personal with you.

"Bucky... I..." You struggled to form a sentence that could properly encapsulate how you felt in the moment, so instead, you took the breakfast tray and put it up on the bedside table. Turning back to face him, his expression curious, you cupped his cheek in the palm of your hand. If you couldn't tell him what his words meant to you, you'd show him.

"I think I'm done with breakfast," you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss.

His lips moved against yours with devastating slowness. There was nothing rushed or fevered about the kiss, but it was no less all-consuming.

He responded immediately, drawing you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist and maneuvering you until you straddled his lap. His large hands roamed along the curve of your lower back, pulling you against him until there was no space left. The contact made your head spin and your body heat up in places that made you shudder with anticipation.

His taste was as delicious as his touch; a combination of coffee, bacon, and something distinctly Bucky that made your senses reel. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours in an intimate dance that left you breathless and wanting more.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel every hard line and muscle of Bucky's torso pressed against your own. His heart pounded in sync with yours, the rhythm picking up as the kiss escalated from sweet to passionate. The sensation made you dizzy with longing.

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands. A low growl rumbled from Bucky's chest at the action, sending a thrill of lust coursing through you. His response was immediate, his lips leaving yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, making you gasp in pleasure.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a primal growl that echoed in the otherwise silent room. His possessiveness was as thrilling as it was unexpected. You nodded, unable to form words as desire clouded your mind.

"Yours," you managed to gasp out, the word coming out as a half-sigh, half-moan as Bucky's fingers danced down the length of your back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

His hands moved with a purpose, tracing paths of fire along your skin. Every touch was measured and precise - he knew exactly what he was doing and how it affected you.

It was almost too much to bear - this closeness, the intimacy of his words. It was overwhelming and wonderful all at once. Bucky's touch was like an incantation, a spell that had you completely entranced.

The world narrowed down to just the two of you. The crisp sheets beneath you, the cool morning air filling the room, everything felt insignificant compared to the heat radiating from Bucky's touch, from his gaze. You were lost in him, and it was a sensation you never wanted to quit.

His fingers dipped lower, trailing up the hem of the shirt you wore. A shiver coursed through your body as his cold metal digits met the warm bare skin of your stomach. You gasped audibly, your back arching slightly.

"Sensitive?" Bucky teased, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, circling around your navel before moving upward.

"You have no idea," you managed to breathe out between gasps. Every nerve ending was on fire, your senses heightened by Bucky's seductive touch. His fingers traced a path up your body, fingertips lightly grazing the underside of your breasts. You bit your lower lip, stifling a moan. Bucky noticed, his ocean blue eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored your own.

"Good," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips to yours once more. This kiss was different, though - more demanding, more intense. He claimed your mouth with a burning passion that left you breathless and craving more.

His metal hand moved from your stomach to cup your breast through the thin fabric of the shirt. His touch was electrifying; every stroke sent shock waves coursing through you straight to your core. You moaned into his mouth, arching into his touch.

Bucky pulled away slightly, his gaze sliding down to where his hand was on you. "You like this?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"So fucking much," you admitted, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him back down to your lips. You kissed him with abandon, pouring all the pent-up desire you had been feeling into the action. His groan of pleasure was muffled by your mouth, further stoking the flames of your desire.

His hand kept up its unhurried exploration, fingers finding a hard nipple through the shirt, brushing over it in slow circles. The sensation made you whimper, pulling away from his lips to gasp for breath.

His eyes were filled with a wicked gleam as he took you in, his gaze heated and full of desire. It made your heart beat faster and your body ache with need. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into him completely.

"Bucky," you whispered, the sound coming out as a high-pitched plea. His touch was driving you wild, making it difficult for you to think straight.

"Hmm?" His voice was rough with desire, his breath fanning across your face.

"I... I need..." you trailed off, unsure of how to put your needs into words. You've never wanted someone this much; it was disorienting.

His lips curled up into a smirk again, understanding flashing in his blue eyes. "I know what you need, doll," he murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, skin on skin contact causing you to gasp out loud. His touch was demanding, taking and giving pleasure in equal measure.

His fingers traced the contours of your body, causing your nerves to sing with exhilaration. Playing your body like an instrument he'd long ago mastered. He skillfully made his way to the apex of your legs, his fingers just ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

"Does this feel good?" he asked in a low growl, his voice rough with need. His fingers dipped lower, hooking into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down slightly.

Your heart pounded in anticipation as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as desire coursed through your veins. His eyes never left yours - an intense gaze filled with passion and unspoken promises.

His hand moved lower still, slipping beneath your waistband. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as his fingers touched you where you wanted him most.

His fingers were cool against your heated skin, and the contrast sent sparks through your body. You couldn't help but shift against his touch, seeking more.

"Bucky," you whispered again, this time in a desperate plea. His smirk widened at your response to his touch as he rubbed slow circles around your most sensitive area. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his wrist as he teased you. He watched you carefully, taking in your every reaction and using it to heighten your pleasure.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said in a low murmur, his voice filled with raw need that caused your pulse to flutter. He continued his slow exploration, dipping a single metal digit into your heat, causing you to gasp at the intrusion.

"Yes... Bucky," you stammered out, your voice barely above a whisper. The slow stretch of his finger inside of you sent fire shooting through every nerve ending. Each stroke of his hand was perfectly orchestrated as if to bring you the greatest amount of pleasure possible.

"Shh, I got you, doll," he reassured you, his voice low and thick with wanting. His pace didn’t quicken; instead he kept a slow, torturous rhythm that had you squirming.

You could feel the tension building within you, spiraling up from the pit of your stomach. The pressure increased with every skilled stroke of Bucky’s fingers until you felt like you were on the edge of something monumental. Your breath hitched, and your grip on his shoulders tightened to the point where you were sure it would leave marks.

You wanted to look at him, wanted to see his face as he watched you unravel under his touch, but your eyes were squeezed shut, the tension mounting within you too intense to bear otherwise.

"Look at me," Bucky commanded huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You obeyed instantly, forcing your eyes open to meet his dark blue gaze. The raw desire there took your breath away. "That's it," he murmured approvingly, his fingers continued their exploration, every touch igniting a flame that threatened to consume you completely.

"I want you to come for me," he growled, pressing harder against the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. You whimpered at his words, the knot in your stomach tightening further. His command added another layer of intensity to the already building climax.

Your body tensed and you gasped audibly as waves of euphoria crashed over you. Your mind went blank and your vision blurred as the orgasm hit you with full force. All you were aware of was Bucky; his intense gaze, his fingers relentlessly driving you through your climax, and his voice murmuring words of encouragement.

"Good girl... that's it. Let go," he coaxed, his rough voice a thread anchoring you in the storm. As the tremors began to recede, he slowed his movements, easing you through the aftershocks.

Your senses slowly returned, and you were left gasping for breath, your heart pounding wildly. You were still clutching his arm, your grip loose now but no less desperate. His touch was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and need that left you craving more.

Bucky eased his hand away from your core. His gaze was steady on your face, watching as you tried to regain your bearings. His eyes softened as he took in your flushed face and disheveled hair.

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm securely around your trembling form as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. There was a tenderness in this gesture that moved you deeply, causing tears to pool in your eyes.

"Bucky..." you murmured, turning your face further into his chest. He hummed a quiet acknowledgement in response, his fingers beginning to draw soothing patterns on your back.

"Yes, doll?" His voice was still rough, but the edge of raw need had smoothed out. Now it was gentle and filled with warmth and affection that had not been so evident before.

"You...you're..." You found it difficult to articulate what you were feeling right then. It was overwhelming - the intense euphoria from the pleasure he'd given you combined with the burgeoning emotions that threatened to spill over.

He seemed to understand regardless. "I know," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I know."

There was an unspoken agreement between you both then; an agreement that this casual arrangement you had entered into all those months ago had transcended into something far deeper, far more meaningful, than either one of you had ever anticipated.

You sat together in silence for a while, foreheads pressed against each other as you regained your composure, breathing in each other's breath. When your limbs had finally stopped shaking and your pulse had evened out, you met his gaze.

"Buck, we have a problem," you murmured, sliding your cheek against his, the rough stubble tantalizing against your skin.

He nuzzled into your face. "What's that, doll?"

You pulled back to look him in the eye, a wicked glint in your gaze. "I seem to still be able to remember my name."

He reached for the hem of the shirt you'd borrowed and pulled it up over your head and tossed it to the floor. "Honey, I haven't even begun to fuck you yet." With a wolfish grin, Bucky picked you up and maneuvered you so that you were lying on your back, his form hovering above you. His drew his head down to your breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking long and hard on your nipple.

"Oh, fuck, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his eager mouth. He devoured you like a man starving.

You lost yourself to the sensation as he continued his ministrations, and it wasn't long before he had once again reduced you to a whimpering mess. Time itself lost all meaning as he brought you over the edge over and over and over again. Finally, after what seemed like hours, you were sobbing with over-stimulation and the sheer intensity of what you felt for him.

After he'd finished inside of you for the second time, Bucky leaned over you, planting feather-light kisses along the planes of your face. "What's your name, doll?" he asked, voice husky.

You tried to answer, but no coherent thought would come to you; all you could do was pant as you tried to focus and re-center yourself.

He had done it. The man had fucked you until you'd forgotten your own name.

And you absolutely loved him for it.

*

The days that followed were some of the very best of your entire life. If you weren't training or working (well, okay, plenty of times when you were working), Bucky had you on your back. Or bent over a desk, or up against a wall, or down on all fours. Several times, he had sat you on his face, your hands gripping on to the headboard for dear life as his tongued probed as deeply into your cunt as he could get it. You had fucked in so many positions, in so many places, you were sure the entire Tower knew what you were doing. Not that you cared; you were head over heals in love with the man, and you were fairly confident he felt the same about you.

It was just that neither one of you had actually spoken the words.

So secure were you in this new connection with Bucky that it didn't even phase you when Tony announced one afternoon that Jade Carthage had officially accepted a three-month probationary appointment with the Avengers, and would be moving into the Tower in just a few days time.

"Okay, Pocket, what gives?" Nat asked you. Girls' Night had come around again, and the two of you, along Wanda, were set up in the common room, working your way through two large pizzas and a couple of orders of mozzarella sticks. Pepper was unfortunately on the West Coast, away on some official Stark Industries CEO business. "Tony announces Jade's imminent arrival and you don't even blink."

You shrugged your shoulders as you popped half a mozzarella stick into your mouth. "I'm not worried about her anymore," you told them. "I mean, I still don't like her, and we're not going to be best friends, but Bucky and I are in a good place." You paused and gave them a knowing look. "A really good place."

"So you are sleeping together!" Wanda leaned back, lifting her feet off the floor and kicking them in delight. You ducked your head, trying to stifle the smile and hide the blush that bloomed across your face. "Okay, I have so many questions! First of all, how long has this been going on? Second, what' it like? You know, his..." she tiled her eyes down. "Third, how is it? It's got to be so good, right? I mean, look at him!"

"Slow down!" you laughed. "God, Wands, should we change your name from Scarlet Witch to the Sokovian Horndog? Cause damn, girl!"

It was Wanda's turn to blush. "I'm sorry; I've just wanted this for you for so long, I can't stand it!" She stood up and threw herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, which you gladly reciprocated.

"Thanks, sweetie," you said with a laugh.

"Thanks later, answers now," she told you, pulling back from you to lean against the arm of the couch.

"Oh, I got this," Nat said, grin plastered across her face. "Let's see... One: four months, since the night he got back from his first mission. Two: She's called him Magic Dick, to his face. And three: Sometimes, when they're done, she can't even walk." She turned to you. "That about cover it?" You laughed, nodding your head.

"Yeah, that basically covers it," you said with a grin.

"I cannot believe this has been going on for four months and you both kept it from me," Wanda said with a pout. "I have been shipping the two of you for over a year, and this is how you repay me?"

"We weren't telling anyone, Wands," you said, trying to placate your friend.

"Oh, I'm too excited for you to be actually mad at you," she confessed. "So, you two a legitimate couple now, or what?"

You paused, biting your lip in consideration. "Well, no? I mean, it started as this completely no-strings-attached, casual sex, friends-with-benefits thing, but the morning after the dinner disaster, he told me that I made him grateful he fell off the train and--"

"I'm sorry, he said what?!" Nat interrupted at the same time Wanda grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into with with excitement, kicking her feet once more.

"Pocket," Nat continued grabbing your arms and shaking you, "for Barnes, that's practically a declaration of undying love!"

You scrunched your shoulders in glee. "I know!" you squealed, not being able to help how exhilarated the idea made you feel.

"And then what did you say?" Wanda asked.

You dropped your shoulders. "Um... well, I didn't actually say anything."

Wanda's eyes went wide. "So you just left him hanging there after he said that?" she asked, incredulous.

"No! I absolutely replied!" you insisted. "Just... not with words. It was more of a... physical response."

Wanda and Nat shared a look. "Okaaaay," they both said in unison before the three of you burst into laughter.

"Pepper is going to be so pissed she missed this," Wanda said, pulling out her phone to text your missing friend. "Though she'll probably be more angry about losing the bet."

"The bet?" you asked, confused.

"Oh, I bet her $100 that you two would end up together before your birthday," Wanda said with a grin as she texted away. "Pepper thought it wouldn't happen until night of, or after."

You tossed a pillow at her, knocking her phone from her hands. "Hey!" she cried out.

"That's what you get for betting on your friends' love lives," you told her, though your voice held no heat. If anything, it was weirdly sweet. Except... "Wait, is it super bizarre that Pepper's making bets on my sex life when she's technically my boss?" you asked.

"Yeah, you going to HR with that complaint?" Nat asked, laughing at the face you made. Her laughing set Wanda off, which set you off in turn, and soon the three of you were in hysterics.

"Damn, we too early for the panty pillow fight?" a voice from across the room caught your attention, and you looked up to see Sam, Steve, and Bucky standing in the doorway.

God, Bucky looked so good. He was wearing a Henley and a pair of jeans, but damn it if it wasn't doing things to you. You flashed him a giant smile. "Hey, Buckaroo," you said, your voice coming out far huskier than you intended it to.

"Don't engage, Pocket," Nat murmured. "They'll think think it's an invitation to come join us." But it was too late; the boys had already begun walking over to where you sat, Sam immediately grabbing a slice of pizza and digging in.

"Hey, doll," Bucky said, leaning over you and placing a kiss to your lips. He quickly pulled back as though he'd been burned, realizing what he'd done of your friends, and the two of you started at each other in surprise and shock over his actions.

"You know what, fuck it," you said, fisting his shirt and pulling him down, slotting your lips over his like your life depended on it. He responded instantly, practically crawling onto the couch to deepen the kiss, pulling you into his lap. You barely registered the sounds of your friends whooping and cheering around you. After what felt like several heady minutes, when you eventually came up for air, you were both smiling, red embarrassment creeping up your faces.

"It's about damned time!" Sam shouted, throwing a mozzarella stick a the two of you. With lighting reflexes, Bucky caught it midair, bit half of it and fed you the rest.

"All this fanfare over a simple kiss?" he asked rhetorically, ignoring the pointed looks. "Stop making it a big deal."

"I have literally wanted nothing more in my entire life," Wanda said, fiddling with her phone. "And I may have taken a picture to send to Pepper to prove she lost."

Bucky gave you a questioning look.

"The Sokovian Horndog over there has been placing bets on us," you sighed. "We just won her $100." A corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile.

"Best buy my girl something pretty with your winnings then, Red," he teased. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched in amusement as Wanda's cheeks flushed at Bucky's words.

Your friends continued to playfully give you both shit for a few more moments when you realized someone was missing from your little group.

"Hey, where did Steve go?" You were sure the blond super soldier had entered the room with Bucky and Sam, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Um, he sort of ran out when you two started to play tonsil hockey," Sam said between bites of pizza.

"Bathroom, maybe?" Nat suggested, her eyes glancing towards the hallway, but you could tell there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Bucky, however, seemed to have a better grasp on what might have occurred and his eyes scanned the room with a more discerning look. A sigh escaped him before he gently nudged you off his lap, rising from the couch. "I'll go find him," he said, turning down to give you a quick kiss goodbye. "Come on, Sam. We've disturbed Girls' Night long enough."

The Falcon began protesting, unfinished pizza slice still in hand, but Bucky grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off toward the hallway. Once they reached the doorway, Bucky turned around and gave you a quick wink.

"I'll see you at bedtime, Babydoll," he said, before dragging Sam off with him.

You waited a beat, giving the boys time to get out of earshot before the three of you began squealing like pre-teens.

"He's never called me that before," you gushed, the happiness coursing through you so intense you were afraid you'd launch into orbit.

"You are going to get such a good dicking down tonight!" Nat declared, coming around to playfully punch you on the shoulder.

And you absolutely did.

[aqg-arts]

Anyone wanna my 2 cents on Jade Shadows?

Spoilers bellow frens ;3

So, right off the bat (before I put my personal personal thoughts out there), we need to acknowledge the criticism and outright discomfort this quest had.

Some of the criticism this quest got is something I can agree with. Specifically; Jade Shadow's needed more time. 100%. Let them cook, or more importantly, let the story cook and maybe even burn a bit to give us some crispy, smokin hot parts.

The little footnote at the end of the quest saying we have 'more questions than answers'? We get it, you're self-conscious, but that doesn't give you an excuse for not giving me Stalker. PERIOD, BITCH.

Jest aside, srsly, we needed to know more about Jade, Stalker, what happened to them, baby Orion (Halo possessed me in that moment, iykyk), etc. People needed to get invested in the characters, especially because this is a quest so close to being like Sacrifice on its level of storytelling...

Had it been able to have just 30+ minutes longer.

Onto the 2nd part of the criticism, birthing sim:

I'll be honest, as someone who was thinking of even going into being a midwifery/allied health, it didn't freak me out as much as it did others. But that's just one side of it. The other is how people say Jade's agency was ignored.

I'll be honest, this is just wrong. It's not media illiteracy by any means, but rather pure ignorance. Why?

Because her agency is declared.

When?

"... you're going to be a father." OH, and the fact she literally wanted the baby. There are plenty of people who can explain it better than that, and whilst I acknowledge people may feel this way, this was, in fact, not what happened.

Also, this quest is not pro-life, nor is it anything related to that. If it was, I assure you, you would have a majority of the fan base up and walk. Take a chill pill. If you want to attack something for being pro-life, go help out at an abortion clinic with crowd control or smth. Because once you see that, you'll understand just how wrong you are.

It's not subtle.

It's not in between the lines.

It doesn't exist.

The end. Period. Fullstop.

The criticism is fair, but going so far as to say those are the undertones is just not on. Not only are you lying about something, but you are also disrespecting the very real women whom have had their agency denied in one way or another.

Now, that's not the only criticism about it, but those are just a few things you may see floating on tumblr. Again, both are ok and fair. But when you start to spread lies or ignore what actually happened, you're part of the problem, not the solution.

Now, onto the fun stuff!

Imo, aside from what was stated before, the quest was actually pretty fun and interesting. The pair make an interesting concept, especially now with the lil fugly bean, which has stolen a place in my cold, brainrotted heart. I think I like the Corpus Cap the most- pls marry me, pls. Oh, an Hunhow? Let me hug him. Let me give him a home on my ships. Let me tell him he can be my bestie!!!

Back to Stalker, though, I really hope we see more of him, especially now he's git a VA.

Speaking of, homie didn't get to speak often, but God did it hit home when he did. You can feel how desperate he is, then when he gets his answers, how lost he is. Finally, resolution and love ehen he names his lil kid at the end.

Music was on point, too. I can't listen to it tho bc Ik ima be sobbing lol. It was so beautiful!!!!!!!

Lorewise, however, I have so many fucking questions, but in the funny haha/good way.

Was jade pregnant b4 being a wf? If not, Stalker...

Why was their relationship shamed upon? Was Jade a Dax and him, well, him? Or was it because they weren't married? What was it that made the Orokin make em into Warframes? Also, Ballas, man, we know your hypocritical ass is in this shit too.

Also, Umbra and Helminth are confirmed to roam around the Orbiter, and vc Umbra is my main, this is a personal achievement. Now let us see it happen, and I'll be DE's 4 life.

But seriously, TL;DR:

Jade Shadow's was a good quest, it just needed to cook slightly longer. And, until we get more Umbra x Stalker from DE (bros b4 all), I'll be on AO3 in 3 (maybe 4) tags.

See in the next Stalker stan post :)

[zutaras-where-its-at]

one word prompt: success

okay someone with a pfp of iroh holding a lotus tile sent me this prompt, and i typed half of it and then accidentally DELETED IT FROM MY DRAFTS, so if that was you i’m so sorry! i’ll try my best to rewrite/answer it here!!!

——————

when zuko tries to propose to katara, he spends a whole month planning out the event.

we’re talking rows and rows of flowers, an imported water tribe chef to make her favorite dishes, a decorated barge to take them out at sunset for his proposal speech—fucking fireworks.

the day of, the palace is in the quietest uproar one can imagine, what with all the countless preparations that must be attended to while also avoiding alerting the water tribe ambassador to their movements. zuko himself is particularly harried, buzzing around putting out metaphorical fires that pop up every other minute.

and when he finally, finally is able to escort his lovely partner down the palace steps, into their private palanquin, and aboard their romantic sea-faring ride to the middle of the capital bay… zuko is mere seconds from kneeling before his future fiancé to pop the big question, hands fumbling around in his pockets for the gold and jade ring he had specially designed for her—only to find his pockets empty.

she’s looking at him with glittering, expectant blue eyes, hands folded demurely in front of her, tears of elation already beginning to crumble her beautiful face when zuko promptly curses, spins twice to frantically scan his surroundings, and then lets out a truly aggravated roar into the sky.

complete with flickering flames escaping his lips and all.

and because this is zuko—perpetually rotten luck, three left feet, complete antonym to the word ‘smooth,’ zuko—his frustration promptly sets fire to the drapes decorating their barge, which quickly erupt the tablecloth holding their water-tribe dinner, and subsequently sear the edges of their robes in the small space.

in her panic to put the flames out, katara accidentally bends just a tad too large of a wave that easily sweeps both them and their crispy dinner into the cold, salty bay.

as a nearby ship (containing the fire lord’s bodyguards who are never too far away from their liege) cruises at rapid pace towards them to offer help, the couple splutters water out of their mouths, sheds their outer robes to rid themselves of the water-logged deadweight, and immediately dissolve into hiccuping laughter that threatens to drown them all the same.

and as they cling to each other—his hair slumped wetly to the side of his head, and her makeup dripping quite messily down her face—zuko finally asks, “please, just say you’ll marry me.”

needless to say, the servants ship opts to wait a few yards away to respectfully give their fire lord and his fiancé some time to celebrate their successful engagement.

[thegoldencontracts]

Octopus-Lover

You know what? I know it's not very popular here, but here's a jeiazu fic. 1.1k words. If you like this ship, PLEASE lmk I've seen literally one other active person on tumblr who likes this ship please please please it's literally my otpp agjhgjerkgad

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jade had always enjoyed eating octopus. Azul knew that. The man also ate octopus in front of him for the sake of watching him squirm, but Azul had long grown used to that.

And yet, suddenly, he couldn't help but feel so- flustered whenever Jade ate octopus. It was irrational, he knew that. But that didn't stop his mind from running.

What if he was in the position of the octopus being eaten? Would Jade look upon him with such excitement, such longing?

Perhaps it was due to their newfound relationship. On second thought, that was definitely the reason. Now that the concept of kissing was on the table, Azul couldn't help but be enamored by it. Like a maiden in love. How foolish.

There he was sitting across from Jade in the VIP room, desperately attempting to suppress the blush threatening to bloom across his face while Jade was busy drooling over a fried tentacle he'd received from Floyd.

"That perfect, solidly crispy exterior," Jade said, turning over the fried tentacle. "And then, the moment one takes a bite, the soft, delightfully squishy interior is revealed."

That sounded exactly like some odd commentary Jade would make about his personality! How exactly did the man expect Azul to retain his composure?

"I-If you're going to spend all day talking about the delectable nature of fried octopus, at least have the decency to do it away from me." Azul cursed himself for stuttering. 

Jade laughed.

"You seem more cross than usual about my favorite food, Azul," he said. "Perhaps you're jealous of the fried tentacle? No need for that, I assure you."

How was the theory that Azul was jealous of food less mortifying than the truth?

"Of course not," Azul said with a roll of his eyes.

He had to get back to work, to focus, but he couldn't. Here he was, his work ethic incapacitated by none other than a tentacle.

Jade seemed to be taking notice.

"Really, though," he asked. " What seems to be causing your troubles?"

Azul sighed, looking intently at the contract sitting before him. It was so fascinating, really.

"Nothing."

It was clipped, stern, in a way that said 'Drop this conversation at once.'

But Jade, of course, didn't heed the warning. He never did. He hadn't when it was Azul threatening to ink him if he didn't leave, and he certainly wouldn't now. Because Jade had a penchant for worming his way through Azul's defenses, for ensuring that those warnings were never acted upon. Because Jade was irritatingly obstinate.

Oh, how Azul loved him. 

"It doesn't appear to be nothing," Jade said. "Judging from the flush of your cheeks, in fact, it appears to be quite the issue."

Azul shook his head. As stubborn as Jade was, Azul's will was unbreakable.

After a few seconds of staring at him with increasing irritation, Jade looked away with a sigh.

"Fine then. Do as you please," he said.

And that was that. Until only a few seconds later, when Jade took a bite of the tentacle, and Azul let out a low, keening screech.

Mortification was an understatement for what he felt when Jade turned to look upon him in incredulity.

"I take it my plausible deniability's run out?" Azul said with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Your 'plausible deniability' ran out quite some time ago," Jade said with a grin. "Do continue, though. It's rather amusing, witnessing you squirm around like a little guppy."

Azul didn't doubt that for one second. After a few seconds, however, Jade's expression seemed to soften. Had he somehow found out the reason for Azul's discomfort?

"Is this tentacle a makeshift voodoo doll of you?" Never mind. "Did I just take a bite into one of your organs?"

That was so clearly wrong Azul genuinely couldn't tell whether it was a joke.  

Still, he shook his head.

"That really isn't the reason for my discomfort," he said with a sigh. 

"I know,"  Jade said. "I merely jest. For now, it seems like your troubles will forever be a mystery."

Another bite into the tentacle, and this time, Azul managed to suppress the yelp that wished to escape him. 

Jade shuffled with his pockets, pulling out his phone. Azul gulped. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

He wasn't letting Jade take a picture of his humiliation. Not today. He hastily planted his gaze upon his contracts, shifting the brim of his hat to conceal the red of his cheeks.

"Hmph," Azul couldn't see, but he knew Jade was feigning a pout. "Must you be a killjoy?"

Azul scowled, though he didn't dare look at Jade.

"It's much preferable to indulging you," he said with a huff.

"And yet, you indulged me in my attempted confession, did you not?"

Azul would never forget the way Jade looked while tripping over his words, struggling just to say an 'I love you'. It was adorable, really.

The sound of chomping finally wore down his self-control.

"You and the tentacle are in close quarters, are you not?" he said. "Perhaps- you-"

He couldn't quite bring himself to finish his sentence. Jade seemed to understand, however. Azul was thankful for that.

"The way I savor the tentacle makes you imagine intimacy between us, does it not?"

Azul's face heated up even further. How was that possible?

"Y-You don't have to be so blunt about it," he mumbled. "But- yes. I suppose one could call that the root of my troubles."

Jade chuckled.

"Really, now?" he said. "How adorable."

"Quiet."

Jade didn't listen, of course.

"No, no, really," he said. "To think, you'd be so easily-"

Azul couldn't take it anymore. He yanked Jade across the table by the tie, crashing their lips together. 

It was greedy, because that was who Azul was - a territorial, greedy man, and that was one aspect of himself he had no shame about. At that moment, if asked, he'd shout it for all to hear. Jade was his. His mate. 

The adrenaline of a kiss really wasn't to be underestimated, it seemed.

By the time he finally pulled away, satisfied, Jade's face was flushed. His was, too, if the warmth of his cheeks was any indicative.

"T-That was," Jade paused to catch his breath. "Quite the experience, to say the least."

Azul couldn't help but grin. Finding ways to break through Jade's composure would never get old, it seemed.

"It seems you can't take what you dish out," he said with a snicker.

"D-Do be quiet."

Azul laughed. To think, their roles had reversed in such a short span of time. It was something Azul loved to no end.

In fact, for all his talk about Azul maintaining his interest, Jade too would forever be fascinating.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

These are all the things I want to grow and have the seeds for this year, though some things are missing from this list. I still need more soil, most of the produce goes to the senior center so if anyone wants to throw me 3 dollars for a bag of dirt it goes to a good cause, I also save seeds and distribute them to neighbors and some of the people at the senior center. This blog is my only income source as I am an unpaid live-in aide for an elderly woman. No pressure though. Also if anyone just wants to put gardening discussions in my inbox I am totally up for that!

Supernova sunchokes

Red pontiac potatoes, kennebec potatoes, lehigh potatoes, purple viking potatoes, red norland potatoes, also sweet potatoes

Brown sugar tomatoes, amish paste tomatoes, orange hat tomatoes, yellow stuffer tomatoes, yellow pear tomatoes, bosque blue bumblebee tomatoes, bonny best tomatoes, orange icicle tomatoes, sart roloise tomatoes, sweetheart cherry tomatoes, honeycomb tomatoes, barry's crazy cherry tomatoes, kentucky beefsteak tomatoes, and of course PRAIRIE FIRE TOMATOES

Corbaci peppers, ajvarski peppers, sugar rush peach peppers, albino bullnose peppers, binquinho peppers, lemon spice jalapeno peppers

Armenian yard long cucumbers, sumter cucumbers, bushcrop cucumbers, spacemaster 80 cucumbers, green apple cucumbers, lemon cucumbers, dragon's egg cucumbers, poona kheera cucumbers, pick a bushel cucumbers

Rosita eggplants, listda de gandia eggplants, shikou eggplants, casper eggplants

White soul alpine strawberries, seascape strawberries

Strawberry spinach, malabar spinach, thousand head kale, scarlet kale, blooming kale, orach, slobolt lettuce, merlot lettuce, bronze lettuce, buttercrunch lettuce, bibb lettuce, aqua large leaf watercress, swiss chard five color silverbeet

Moonshine sweet corn, glass gem corn, fiesta corn, Incredible R/M sweet corn

Great northern beans, dwarf taylor horticulture beans, jade II beans

Red burgundy okra, jing orange okra

Autumn buckskin pumpkins, long island cheese pumpkins, flat white boer pumpkins, seminole pumpkins, rouge vif d' etampes pumpkins

Gumball mix radishes, china rose radishes, de 18 jours radishes, golden helios radishes, purple plum radishes, diana hybrid radishes, pink dawn radishes

Chocolate cherry sunflowers, autumn beauty sunflowers, evening sunflowers, russian mammoth sunflowers, florenza sunflowers, lemon queen sunflowers

Peach melba nasturtiums, whirlybird nasturtiums, orchid flame nasturtiums, tip top alaska salmon nasturtiums, tip top rose nasturtiums

Gill's golden pippin squash, honeynut squash, candy roaster squash, delicata squash, early prolific straightneck squash

Jolly jester marigolds, mexican mint marigolds, safari scarlet marigolds, orange flame marigolds, colossus bicolor red gold marigolds

Purple coneflowers, black eyed susans, moss roses, coleus pinto mix

Double tall mix strawflowers, copper red strawflowers, king size orange strawflowers

Pampas plume celosias, eternity mix celosias

Desert king watermelons, lemon drop watermelons, royal golden watermelons, tigger melons, kajari melons, golden crispy melons, golden jenny melons

Purple dragon carrots, melbec carrots, uzbek gold carrots, koral carrots

[augustinapril]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲 || Steve Harrington

Synopsis: You love Steve Harrington with all of your heart, you just hope he knows that. And he does, but It wasn’t until Steve witnessed you with his son had he realized just how much he loves you back.

Warnings: gn!reader, descriptions of food and eating, descriptions of reader feeling lonely, fluffyness.

A/n: Some of this is inspired by jade (luveline) so you should definitely follow her if you already don’t. <3. She got me hooked on Steve as a dad so here’s some of that. She also mentioned steve in a headband so that’s in here too. Proofread by @elemental-of-magic !!

Wc: 4.2k

REBLOGS APPRECIATED <3

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small space of your bedroom, being one of the first things you sense as you begin to wake up.

You turned slightly in your sheets, shirt twisting uncomfortably around your sunbathed body.

You kept your eyes closed for a few minutes, relishing the serenity of the early morning before sitting up and readjusting your t-shirt. You could tell it was old because of its faded texture and design. It wasn’t as soft as it was when you had first gotten it.

There were a series of soft footsteps outside your door, making you try to rub away the tiredness lurking behind your eyes just as your bedroom door was carefully inched open with a quiet creak.

You could see a few small strands of wavy brown hair falling in front of a familiar set of round russet-colored eyes. There was an excited squeak before your door was pushed open.

Sam ran across the little space left between your messy bed and the doorway, a blur of gray passing your vision when he jumped up onto your bed.

“Good morning, Y/n” he whispered, his quiet voice contradicting his excited demeanor. You smiled down at him and opened your arms, an invitation he easily accepted.

He curled up against the side of your body, snuggling into the heat your body radiated. “Daddy’s making breakfast for you,” He whispered quietly, "I need you to pretend to like the bacon, okay? He accidentally burnt it.”

You giggled at the thought of Steve’s panicked face when he realized that the bacon he was cooking wasn't the kind of crispy he was initially aiming for. Steve wasn’t a bad cook, he was actually quite good at it when he tried to be, but everyone had their bad moments when it came to cooking.

You could still hear him now, the slight sizzle of an ingredient you couldn’t quite place.

“I’ll make sure his feelings aren’t hurt because of his burnt bacon,” You reassured Sam, and he nodded to you approvingly before he squirmed out of your embrace, climbing off of your soft, sheetfed mattress.

“C’mon, we have to surprise him,” He continued his whisper, but you were sure Steve had already figured out you were awake.

There was a difference between whispering as someone who’s older and someone who’s a child; sometimes kids can’t quite reach the level of quiet they are hoping for.

You started unfurling yourself from your warm bedding and scooting off of the mattress. Your bare feet hit the ground of your bedroom, making goosebumps spreadacross your skin at the contrast of body warmth and the cold, faux wooden flooring.

Your pajama pants helped just a little bit, the legs being longer than they should, leaving a small pool of fuzzy cloth to surround your feet when you stood up.

Sam wrapped his small hand around yours when you began to exit your room, the sound of a spatula scraping against a frying pan and the brief smell of eggs mixing with the essence of coffee.

Your apartment wasn’t very big, so you reached your kitchen in just a few steps.

You were met with Steve’s back, his broad shoulders wrapped perfectly in his tightly fitted blue shirt. He turned around at the sound of your light footsteps, the warm sun gracing the half of his face that turned in his direction in a soft, honey-colored yellow.

A combed headband kept his sun-dyed hair out of his face. You thought each strand looked like a series of golden threads.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Steve told you with a smile, the pet name making your face heat up. “Are you hungry?”

“Kinda,” You replied as Sam let go of your hand so he could sit back down at the cherry wood coffee table in your living room.

Steve had begun putting a few slices of warm bacon on a plate he had prepared before—and Sam was right, the bacon was burnt—along with a quick scoop of scrambled eggs and some hashbrowns.

Where he had gotten most of these ingredients, you weren’t sure, so you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

He brought the plate over to you, your cup of steaming coffee in the other hand, before he went to grab smaller plate, which you assumed was for Sam.

“Thank you,” You told him, your voice soft and full of love. You weren’t sure if Steve knew just how much these things meant to you. You’ve always been used to giving, instead of getting; yet here Steve was, showing just how much he cares through simple gestures.

It meant everything to you, and you hope Steve knows that.

“So,” He began, swallowing the chewy eggs he had put in his mouth earlier before finishing. “Today is quite the day.”

You grinned at him, “You said his game was at one?”

Steve nodded in confirmation, taking a quick bite of his bacon, a loud crunch following the motion, and quickly made a face of disgust afterward. “Maybe, don’t eat the bacon. . .”

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you started to tease him. “The rest of this is delicious, baby, but how did you manage to burn all of the bacon?”

Steve feigned a look of offense, “I cook you breakfast and this is how you respond?”

You know he doesn’t mean it, but part of you still questions whether you’ve hurt his feelings. He did spend time making all of this for you, waking up early enough to walk down the street to buy the ingredients because you know the eggs were the only thing you had out of everything he cooked.

Steve could read you like a book because it hadn’t taken him long to realize exactly what was running through your head, “I’ve never been good at cooking meat-related foods. They always vary in times and all sorts of other things to be cooked correctly—seriously, I swear there's like ten different ways to cook just one type of meat.”

You listened intently as Steve continued this mini-rant about how there are simply just too many forms of cooking when it came to carnivorous meals. Count on Steve to go on a tangent about things you wouldn’t originally expect a person to talk about.

He was interrupted by Sam, who had just finished his entire plate of food.

Sam was a food lover, that was for sure, especially when it came to grilled cheese; you’d need more than your two hands to count the number of times he’d asked you to grill one for him whenever Steve left him with you so he could work overtime.

Steve told you all the time about how much Sam loved how your sandwiches were cheesy but not overly cheesy.

“Is there any more?” Sam asked, holding his plate in his hands. Steve hadn’t been able to make a lot, not really expecting Sam to want more when he was given the normal amount he usually eats.

“Oh, sorry bubs—”

You cut Steve off, gesturing to your half-filled plate of lukewarm food with a gentle smile. “You can have the rest of mine.”

Sam beamed at you, giving a quick thank you before clambering onto your lap, startling you. You assumed Sam was just going to take the plate and return back to his previous spot, not turn you into a chair. You weren't going to tell him no, though. You'd do anything for this seraphic boy.

Sam took a hold of his small silver fork from earlier, placing his empty plate beside yours before eating what was left of your breakfast.

"You're still coming to my game today, right?" Sam asked you, his mouth full of eggs he had just stuffed in his mouth, making Steve reprimand him for talking with his mouth full.

"Of course I am, sweet boy," You told him, readjusting his position in your lap. His elbows were digging into your side. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Sam shrugged, taking a quick bite from the crispy brown hashbrowns, making sure to fully chew and swallow before taking it. "I dunno. Daddy says he wasn't sure he wants you to go because he says the boys like you more than him."

You smirked, your eyes drifting up to Steve who looked as though someone had told the world his deepest, darkest secret. He's just a little embarrassed. "Oh, is that so?"

"Mhm!"

Steve had gotten past his initial embarrassment before jumping to his defense, "I didn't not mean that literally! Seriously though, I swear those kids like you more than they like me. Do you know how many times a day they'll ask me if you're gonna visit at practice that day?"

You started to chuckle, a delicate sound Steve cherished but he still took the time to pretend umbrage that you were laughing at his incredibly serious feelings.

"Hey don't laugh! I'm their coach and they never get as excited to see me as they see you!"

You shook your head. "They see you every day Steve. They have a far closer connection to you compared to me, they only like me because I bring them snacks."

Steve rolled his eyes at you and crossed his arms, the sleeves of his shirt creasing around his slight muscles. "That is not true. They definitely love you for more than just your food, Y/n."

You shrugged, "Whatever you say, Harrington. You all done, Sam?"

He nodded at you and climbed off your legs, taking his plate to put it into your kitchen sink. Steve kept his eye on him, making sure he didn't accidentally drop the plate and hurt himself.

Then he noticed the small collection of dirty dishes he'd used for cooking, wincing at the sight. "I'll make sure to clean those once we get back." He looked at his watch before standing up. "Sam and I should probably head back home. The both of us need a bath and I may, or may not have, forgotten to pack extra clothes."

You nodded and stood up, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his body. Steve didn't even hesitate to return the embrace, laying his head in the crook of your neck. His hot breath fanned against your bare skin, making you shiver at the feeling.

He placed a gentle kiss on the skin between your shoulder and your neck, the feeling tickling your sensitive skin, making you giggle. You returned the gesture, pecking the underside of his jaw, his scruff itching at your lips.

"I'll see you at one," You told him, pulling him closer to you. Steve always thought you gave the best hugs; he said it was like being wrapped in the softest of freshly baked bread. "Love you, get home safe."

"Love you too," He tightened his arms around you as well before the both of you pulled away. Sam ran up to you, having already gotten his green dinosaur-themed shoes, the bottoms a flashing green from his running start towards your legs.

"See you later, alligator!" He told you, a phrase he'd learned from you a few months after he had learned how to talk.

"In a while, crocodile." You returned, ruffling the hood of his cotton shark pajamas. They were his favorite thing in the world and wore them almost every night.

Sam let go of your legs, Steve grabbing ahold of his hand as the two left your apartment. He made sure to carefully close the door behind him, keeping it from slamming shut.

You stood in your spot and stared at the door they had just walked out, suddenly cold from the lack of human presence in the room, and wrapped your arms around yourself.

You should probably shower too, you thought, quickly walking back to your room for a change of clothes.

———

The sun shining through the four white squares of your bedroom window was far brighter than it had been earlier, this time blinding in color instead of a peaceful shade of golden. It felt warm against the bare skin of your arms, the sleeves of your white shirt barely reaching the middle of your bicep, the sleeve flowing around your arm. It was accompanied by this soft knitted vest you thrifted a few months ago when you needed new clothes but didn’t have the money for actual clothing stores.

It contrasted your white shirt perfectly, the collar of the top placed around the neckline of your vest. There were a few different pairs of pants that went well with the top, so you just decided to go with the one that felt most comfortable to wear. You’d been wanting to wear this outfit for a while but you never had the motivation to put it on, but you thought you should look nice for one of Sam’s most eventful games of his season.

That’s what Steve and Sam told you, anyway. You didn’t know anything about baseball, and no matter how many times Steve tried to explain it to you nothing ever really clicked together. It was like a puzzle but many of the pieces connected everything was missing.

You lifted your non-dominant arm to look at your watch. 10:27 a.m. it read. You let out a huff, standing from your spot on your bed. You needed something to do before you exploded.

You walked into the bathroom and quickly check yourself over in the mirror. You noticed everything. The creases of your eyes, the way your nose stood out against the rest of your face, the redness of your lips from when you had been chewing on them earlier, and the dampness of your still drying hair. You had taken a rather long shower.

You weren’t sure why you felt like this today. There wasn’t really anything bad that happened today, but you felt anxious. There was too much space around you and nothing, no one, to occupy it. You felt pathetic. How was it so hard for you to handle being alone today?

You shook your head as if it would get rid of these thoughts, which made you notice the half-full laundry basket in the corner. You could attempt to do your laundry, you thought before realizing you can’t recall the last time you had washed your clothes.

You took two steps forward, your socks sliding against the pale tiles of the floor when you reached down and grabbed the handles of the basket, your fingers brushing against the series of holes that decorated its sides. You always thought the oddly shaped holes were like spots.

You were sure there were probably miscellaneous clothes scattered around the floor of your apartment, mainly in your bedroom. You exited the bathroom, quickly flicking off the light before walking over towards your room. You were correct. There were clothes on your floor, an old brown jean jacket dangling off the corner of your bed.

You picked up everything you could, placing everything in your basket and coming to the conclusion it was full enough to do a load. You were lucky enough to have your own washer and dryer, which were held in a small room near the bathroom. You turned on the light in the small room, strode towards the two square white machines, and opened the one on the right side of you.

Hadn’t taken long for you to put detergent into the machine, start the water, and then place your clothes in as the water ran. Once you started it, you realized this was only a temporary fix to your problem. Now you had to wait for the washer to be done.

Almost as if life sensed your slight distress, there was a loud knock on your door. You weren’t expecting anyone, making your anxiety spike for a split second before a familiar voice rang out from behind the slab of wood. “Y/n? It’s Nancy.”

You walked towards your door, opening it for the girl you had grown close to over the past decade. You thought she looked magnificent, having grown out her hair again, a mess of brown curls cascading down her back, stopping about halfway. “Hello, Nance. What are you doing here?”

She took off her shoes after she had entered, a pair of nicely kept white vans. How she kept them white, you weren’t sure. How anyone could keep their shoes white was a question you have yet to discover the answer to. “I got off work early and didn’t have anything to do,” She answered, placing her newly bought purse on the table in your kitchen. “Thought I’d come over here, chat with you. We haven’t been able to recently, and I’m embarrassed to say I miss your company.”

You smiled at her words. “Truth be told, I’ve missed your company too.”

She grinned, taking a glass from your cupboard and filling it with tap water, quickly noticing the collection of dirty dishes filling your sink and lingering around your countertops. “That’s a lot of dishes for one person,” She teased, knowing that many of these dishes were the cause of two other people. “Did you let Steve cook you breakfast?”

“How’d you guess?”

“You’re cleaner when it comes to the messy dishes,” She commented, “No offense to Steve, he’s a great cook, but sometimes when cooking unsupervised he struggles to grasp the concept of order.”

“Cooking takes order?” You asked her, striding to her side and staring at dishes in your sink. There was more than what Steve used this morning, some dishes from the days before you hadn’t taken the time to clean.

“It goes a lot nicer if there is a slight sense of order,” Nancy added, rolling up her sleeve and starting to run some warm water in your sink. “I’ll help you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to Nance—“

Nancy interrupted you, “I know I don’t have to but I want to. I wash you dry?”

“No seriously, Nancy, Steve said he’d wash them once he got back.” You informed her. You didn’t want your friend to do something that was gonna be done later.

She shrugged, quickly adding soap to the other sink before turning the faucet to run water on top of it. “It’d be better to get them done now anyway.”

You thought about it, realizing you weren’t going to be able to change her mind, so you nodded and grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen drawers right next to the sink. Nancy was a stubborn person, always had been. You wouldn’t be able to steer her from anything she’d caught scent of, which explains how she was one of the main editors in a really popular magazine. She wrote all sorts of articles about important events, often telling details of a story no one else had been able to get. You admired her for that.

Which reminded you of this article she was currently working on, “Have you been able to get anything else on that story on that house that burnt down? Do you know how the family’s doing?”

Nancy grabbed ahold of the plate Sam had eaten from earlier, holding the glass circle of red carefully before beginning to scrub away syrup residue still lingering. “Yeah. Turns out the fire started because a candle had been left burning overnight. Everybody was fine, including their dog, who was an absolute sweetheart. She loved me.”

You grinned, “I don’t blame the dog. You're a pretty lovable person.”

“Oh, hush.” The both of you laughed, talking about miscellaneous topics the entirety of the half hour it took you both to finish the dishes. The two of you went from the kitchen to the soft brown cushions of your couch.

“Wait, so your telling me Steve had a headband on?” Nancy asked you. Something about the look on her face made you think that she was probably picturing him with one of those chunky headbands instead of the one he had.

That thought made you loath, but you were he’d still look pretty cute with those headbands too. “Mhm. Sam walked me out of my room and there he was. It was a combed headband, though, but he looked quite adorable.”

“Oh I’m sure he just looked adorable,” Nancy laughed, shaking her head. She couldn’t see Steve looking cute in a headband.

You took a moment to look at your watch, realizing it was 12. You should probably eat lunch, and you’d know you’d have to leave soon so you could see both Sam and Steve before his game. “Wanna get lunch?”

Nancy looked at her watch and nodded, standing up. “McDonald’s?”

“Where else?”

By the time you both left the house, hopped into Nancy’s car, and got lunch; it was almost time for you both to leave for Sam’s game. It took you a second to remember where exactly you had to go. The both of you arrived there by 12:45, and Steve saw the two of you instantly.

He grinned from his spot at the side of the field, waving to you. He had the biggest smile on his face, his eyes closed because of the sun. You grinned, admiring him for a few seconds before you ran over to him.

You weren’t even standing there for a second before Steve wrapped his arms around your body, rocking your bodies side to side. “There you are, sweetheart.

You felt him kiss the side of your head, “Hello, Stevie.” You whispered to him, a giggle rupturing from your throat when you felt his scruff tickle your cheek. Trying to tug the sound from your lips once more, he nuzzled his head closer, making you try to squirm away at the feeling.

The two of you were interrupted by an excited shout a few feet away. “Y/N!” You pulled away from Steve, turning to Sam who was sprinting at you as fast as his legs would let him. “Y/n you’re here!”

You grinned at him, crouching down to catch him in a hug before lifting him up, not caring about the dirt that was probably transferring from Sam’s shirt and pants to yours. “I told you I would, Sweet boy.”

“Are you excited to watch me play?” Sam asked, his face full of anticipation for your answer.

His excitement always managed to bring a smile to your face that nothing else could and you nodded, “I've been looking forward to seeing you all day. Are you ready for your game?”

He nodded vigorously, “I'm way readier than anyone here! I'm a little scared, though.”

You were pretty sure ‘readier’ wasn't a word. “What are you scared about?”

“I really want us to win, and I don't want to disappoint anyone if I don't.” Your heart broke at his words.

“Oh, sweet boy. No one is going to be disappointed in you, I promise. Don’t ever think that.” You placed a gentle yet firm kiss against his head, reassuring him of the truthfulness behind your words. “Now you go have fun with your team, okay?”

Sam nodded when you placed him down, tightening his arms around your shoulders once more in a hug before he ran off.

———

Steve had never loved anyone in the way that he loved you; none of his past partners had ever treated Sam the way you do. Maybe it was because you'd known him since the day he was born or because you’d been friends with Steve since your senior year, but there was just something about you he couldn't have with anyone else.

You didn't define him by his seven-year-old son, never making a big deal when he had to cancel any plans on you because Sam had come down with a cold. Instead, you would show up at his small, two-bedroom house with homemade soup and some tea that was sweet and flavorful enough for a kid to drink.

He saw just how much you loved not just him, but Sam. The way you were tender with him this morning; let him hold your hand when the both of you walked out of your room, giving him the rest of your food because he was still hungry, returning whatever forms of affection he showed you with just as much love.

He also saw it just now, with how you didn’t even hesitate to catch Sam in a hug, kissing his head when he expressed his fear, the look on your face showing how the boys words affected you almost as heavily as they affected him.

Steve had fallen for you. Hard. He had this love that swelled every second he was around you, increasing in size and passion every time he felt the warmth of your body near his.

He swears he was gonna explode when he saw you cheer for Sam whenever it was his turn to play. Cheering louder than anyone on the crowd when he’d run from base to base, feeding the boy words of encouragement that fueled his reason to run quicker.

And he saw the pure joy on your face when his team had won the game. Sam had run towards you once more, yelling about how they did it, how they beat the game, and how happy he was that you were there to see him do it.

And the way you glowed in joy for him, telling him just how proud you were and he had played so well. Steve had realized at that moment, he didn't want anyone else but you.

[b-afterhours]

Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

SUMMARY: ‘90s. It’s the aftermath. Jaded, Bill and Alma navigate their new lives as they try to drag themselves out of the dark debacherous trenches they had once ensnared themselves in. It’s easy to forget their evils when a silver lining introduces itself into their lives but can they create a less hedonistic life that would be just as satisfying?

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Twenty-four

September 1993

Bill was woken up with Echo's foot wiggling and digging into the side of his face the next morning. She was sitting against the headboard when his eyes narrowly peeped open. He didn’t exactly know when he had fallen asleep; he just watched mind-numbing TV until his eyes could no longer stay open. Alma had woken at a point in the night and took the remote control out of his loose grip while he slept to turn the TV off and swiftly went back to sleep. He was still tired. Instead of choosing to rise and be present with his daughter, he tugged her foot, pulling her down to lie, but he hadn’t realized that her hand had a grip on Alma’s hair. In the action, Echo inadvertently tugged her mother's hair harshly. 

Alma sucked air through her teeth, and her hand reached for the sore patch on her scalp. She squeezed her eyes tightly when the memory of Craig violently pulling her by the hair came to her. She took a deep, shaky breath, then grumbled in her sleep from being woken abruptly. As she began to shift her body, she was suddenly reminded of her period. She could feel the flow wanting to creep farther back than what the long nighttime pad could contain and stilled. Huffing in irritation, she turned her head. Echo was awake, playing with her father’s ear while he snuggled her in his arms, still asleep. 

After a piping hot shower to help relieve her cramping, she reentered the room in just a long band tee and comfy granny panties. The room was empty, only momentarily, when Echo came running to her legs once Bill opened the door holding plates of complimentary continental breakfast from the hotel. He was in a simple black sweat set after having slept in black boxer briefs.

Alma planted kisses on her daughter's cheek as she giggled in her little princess nightgown. She still had messy bed hair, so Alma smoothed it down, but it wasn’t much help. Bill kicked off his Adidas sandals by the door and situated the plates he was once balancing along his long arm, on the unmade bed. 

“Feeling okay?” he asked caressing Alma’s cheek after kissing her good morning. It was very early—hardly 7 a.m.

“Eh,” she grimaced. “I was about to take some ibuprofen.” 

“I’ll grab it.” He then gestured to the food so that she would eat. 

He brought back a hodgepodge of breakfast foods from the lobby. Overripe fruits, watery scrambled eggs, paper-thin bacon, sausage links, and plain bagels that were warm to the touch as if they were toasted but yet still oddly pale. It may not have been the best breakfast they ever had or could even make themselves, but it would suffice. Echo was given the best plate, a waffle Bill took the time to make at the waffle station. Warm and crispy, buttered and drizzled with syrup, and topped with a dollop of whipped cream.

After fiddling with the in-room coffee maker to start brewing, Bill approached Alma, who was holding a bagel, and put three tablets in her hand, which she dry swallowed. He couldn’t dry-swallow pills like she could; it made him gag any time he tried. He pulled his pockets inside out, produced packets of jam and cream cheese, and sprinkled them on the bed. 

They spoke about their plans for the day as they ate. Their main event would be visiting Alma’s dad in the afternoon, but when arriving in Springfield, they saw signs advertising a weekend swap meet. It sounded like something nice to do while in town. Before they realized it, they had eaten all the food without complaint. The only complaint uttered was from Bill, who commented on the brewed bitter, watery coffee. He said it probably wasn’t to drink but for the aroma only.

“Mo’ joos, mama,” Echo asked, waving her sippy cup in the air. 

“Please?” 

“Peeze!” 

Alma grabbed the jug of apple juice she left by the side of the bed to fill it up for her when she started speaking to her father.

“‘Nana, papa?”

“You want some, baby?” He asked, tearing a piece from the one he was eating. 

Alma passed the sippy cup back to her daughter, to which she thanked her without needing to be reminded of her manners. She began to gather the paper plates to throw away when Bill got up to rip off the top duvet, which got messy with syrup. Luckily, they still had three more. He laid back on the bed after and sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

Once Echo was settled and sitting at the foot of the bed watching children’s educational TV, Bill felt Alma’s hand on his chest. Then she laid her body over his. He appreciated her relaxed weight over his body, and tightly wrapped his arms around her. 

“You look tired, love.” She mumbled.

“I am.” He admitted, which was a rarity.

“We’ll be gone by tomorrow night.” She reminded. “Just take a nap; we’ve got time.” 

She began to scoot off of him, but he held her firmly, keeping her from doing so. His hand slid down her back to grope her ass cheek.

“Stay.” He said squeezing it, making her giggle. “You feel nice on me.” 

They lay silently while Echo exclaimed and giggled along with the TV. Bill thought it was endearing that Alma reminded him of when they’d be leaving. Despite dragging her there, it was nice that she recognized that he didn’t want to be in Missouri either. But he had something to do, and today was his day to execute it. He was nervous, and he wondered how he'd be able to approach it without Alma suspecting something or overhearing. He’ll figure it out; he knew he could always find a way. Even with his confidence, it didn’t ease him. 

…

As they left, the hotel Bill looked down at Alma with a smirk on his face just before they exited the lobby. They were going to the post office to ship Alma’s old things back to Seattle.

“Yeah?” Alma flippantly questioned his smugness. 

“I saw your old skates in one of the boxes. Do you think you can still skate?” 

“What? There’s no way!” She scoffed, shaking her head. 

Suddenly she was sitting on a curb by the SUV, lacing them up. Bill had dared her to try, and she couldn’t back down from that. She remembered begging her parents for roller skates for Christmas her junior year. They were white, with pink glitter laces and pink translucent wheels. However, they were used, so they were scuffed, the trucks looked slightly rusted, and they had collected dust. Echo was next to her, intrigued and touching them just before she stood up. She stood there for a moment, a bit hesitant, before she pushed off and slowly rolled on the stiff wheels, trying to catch her bearings. It had been about a decade since she’d donned skates. Bill picked up Echo, and they watched Alma do a slow arching semicircle before them until she stumbled a bit. 

“I got it,” she said, putting her hand up when Bill stepped forward. “I rolled over a pebble.” 

She steadied herself again, and then she began skating with more confidence. Echo was giggling with fascination. Meanwhile, Bill watched her hair flow behind her with a pleasant smile on her face. He was seeing the young girl he fell in love with so long ago again. Alma skated up to them and was confident enough to take Echo in her arms for a slow, cautious ride. She instinctively wrapped her little arms around her mother's neck and just snickered to herself. 

“One mo’!” She asked when they completed the ride back to where Bill stood. 

She obliged her, going a little bit faster, and then handed her back to Bill, much to Echo’s dismay, to take the skates off. 

“And you said you couldn’t,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she smiled. “All the kids' rollerblade now, though. I’d look like a dork with these out at the park.” 

“They’re the dorks,” Bill retorted. 

…

It was a hot and muggy day in Springfield. The air hung humid from the late-night rain, and besides Echo, who was appropriately dressed in light colors and shorts, the sun was beating down on Bill and Alma, especially as they wore their typical black garments. Bill was even wearing the same black shirt he wore the day before. They took brief refuge just outside the parameters of the outdoor swap meet at a small record shop, where they had spotted some local teens loitering about. It seems like some of that Seattle grunge aesthetic has made its place even in this small town in southwest Missouri with the youths. 

Echo was wriggling in Bill’s arms as he and Alma walked around the humble music store, speaking to each other. She felt familiar with being in this environment and was becoming a little frustrated that she couldn’t just run around like she was able to at Sheisty Sound. 

“Down, papa!” She whined, trying to push away from him. 

“Down? Or up?” He asked, inadvertently cutting Alma off mid-sentence. He put Echo on his shoulders, and she giggled, satisfied with the compromise. “Sorry.” 

“I was saying like, Darby basically hired me. It feels weird to surpass him.” 

“I mean technically… you would.” Alma rolled her eyes at that. “So you really want Ash as a manager? Why not Ulyssa?” 

He hadn’t questioned Alma about it until now. When she informed him that she’d be training Ash to replace herself, he just chose to trust that she knew what she was doing. After all, she understood the dynamics between the coworkers much better than he did. He was an interloper, but Alma was his guide in. 

Alma paused, leaned her hip on a record table, and looked at him. “I know you trust her, but I trust Ash too. She’s good with numbers and people. She’s a lot more patient than I am regarding customer service, too. Anyway, Ulyssa is still in school, and she might be moving.” She said, looking a bit sad, passing along the news. 

“Moving for what?” He balked with furrowed brows in shock. 

Alma sighed. “Well, she’s got an opportunity to finish her degree at NYU.” 

Bill raised his brows. “Impressive. But what the hell?” 

“Yeah. But that won’t be until next year, so...” she trailed off and began perusing again. 

“Still… Alright, and then Darby. He stays the head manager, okay?” He said it as if he were checking off boxes in his mind. 

Before they left for Missouri, Darby had asked Bill if he’d like to go for lunch sometime when they got back. He knew it would be a discussion about his paycheck, but Bill was already a step ahead of him on that front. He saw what all the employee's hourly pay was, and with what he knew from Alma’s information, Lewis was ripping them off a little. 

“I’ll handle the live events, you know. It is separate from sales. I could work in-store or at home when I need or want to.” 

Bill puffed his bottom lip out and nodded. He agreed with her line of thinking. They had been subtly hinting to each other about possibly growing their family in the future. Neither just hadn’t outright said as much to each other. 

They were back-to-back in an aisle, flicking through records. The shop they were in didn’t seem to be big on keeping up with the decade, but there could always be old hidden treasures. Bill had no such luck as he looked, but Alma found two records of interest. He pulled one out of the plastic sleeve and saw that it was an original pressing. Alma, having worked in a record shop, now had a better eye than he did.

…

On their way to Alma’s father's that afternoon, Bill noticed her spinning the rings on her fingers nervously. She had her gaze fixed out the passenger window, seemingly in deep thought. 

It had taken her so long to get ready, too. As if she were trying to push the visit back by being picky over what to wear. She changed her top four times and switched between jeans and a respectable knee-length skirt. She ultimately chose the first outfit she had initially tried on. A sleeveless black button-down and a pencil skirt. The only change she made was to tie the bottom of her shirt together. She wanted to look like an adult, but now, looking at herself in the wall mirror, she thought she looked so plain and lame. Bill could see her second-guessing herself again.

“Babe... That’s nice. It looks better when you tie it.” 

Alma nodded, smoothing her skirt on her hips, appreciating his reassurance. “Okay... Just let me do something with my hair.” She said, striding to the bathroom.

Bill inhaled deeply and then smiled at his daughter, who was dressed in a lavender-colored dress that had the flowers embroidered along the bottom hem. She was passing him one of her hot-wheel cars while holding onto a knockoff troll doll from the swap meet in the other.

“Dwive!” She said, “Vwoom!” 

At least he had his daughter, helping with distracting himself rather than absorbing Alma’s nervous energy. God only knew he didn’t need any more of it. 

Bill parked right behind Antonio’s red Chevy Silverado. He turned to Alma, who was nervously chewing her pink, balm-covered lips. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked her softly. 

Alma flashed a wary glance at him. “It’s just… last time. Last time I came back, my mom was sick, and, uh…” her voice wavered. “I’m scared. He’s old.” 

Bill wasn’t sure what words he could provide to ease her. He was old, and the grim updates he’d give over the phone, he was sure, were anxiety-inducing for her. Reimagining his tales and inserting her father in those situations. This is what she wasn’t mentioning to him. Worrying that her return would just reveal that her father wasn’t doing as well as he let on, just like her mother did to her. 

“Well. He doesn’t look too bad…” Bill said, looking out the windshield. 

Alma followed his gaze. Her father was standing on the porch, squinting with his hand over his brow. He looked the same as the last time Alma saw him, and she felt some relief. Just then, his wife Connie appeared to take a peek from the screen door, and Bill bit his cheek, looking at Alma.

“The wife?”

“Mm. She doesn’t speak English, but she understands it well. She’s actually… a nice lady,” Alma admitted. “It’s just… weird. I don’t get why my parents, uhm. I never asked.” 

“I get it. I get it.” He nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.” He encouraged. She reached for her door handle to let herself out, just to get the ball rolling. “Wait.” He said, placing his hand on her knee. “I have to do that, especially with your dad watching.”

He stepped out of the SUV and waved to Antonio, who only gave him a curt nod back.

“Ugh, shit,” Bill muttered under his breath. 

He swiftly helped Alma out of the car and planted a reassuring kiss on her lips. Discreetly, she palmed his package. She thought he would flinch, but instead, he pressed himself much more firmly. Calling her tease and making her lightly laugh, which was the goal.

“In front of your dad? Sicko!” He said in a hushed tone, before letting her go on her way. 

While Bill was busy gathering Echo and her things, Alma quickly made her way up the porch steps. Before her father, who used a cane to support himself, could start making his way down them.

“Mi Almacita!” He said with a big grin on his face, embracing her. “I was getting worried you weren’t coming,” he winked at her as he held her face, examining it. Her brown eyes were so bright again.

With her wedge heels on, they were close to the same height. Her father wasn’t a short man, but with age, it looked like he had shrunk a bit.

“I wouldn’t come all this way for nothing.” She said, making him laugh. “You miss me?” 

“All the time, amor.” He said, caressing her cheek with the back of his weathered hand. “All the time. Y esta muñequita quien es?” He nodded his head, and Alma looked behind herself. 

“You know Bill?” She said to him, and they both laughed. 

Bill stood there, unsure of what was said, but the laughter was good. He’ll take it, even if it was some joke about him. He couldn’t claim to be fluent in Spanish, but having taken it for his foreign language credit so long ago in high school, he could somewhat follow the context. However, he had too much on his mind for his feeble grade school knowledge to help him now. 

“She’s like a little doll,” Antonio said in English, and then he greeted Bill with a polite handshake. “Come inside. Connie’s almost done with the cooking.” 

When entering, Connie had come to say hello. If Alma wasn’t wearing her optical aids, she could easily mistake her for her mother. They looked eerily similar, yet at the same time, they weren’t. Alma asked Connie in Spanish if she needed any help in the kitchen, but she told her to sit and to make herself at home instead.

They were in the den, where there was a needlepoint project on a side table, newspapers, and TV guides scattered about. The TV was on mute, broadcasting local news. Bill’s attention went towards a shelf full of pictures of other kids who were Connie's adult children and grandchildren. And then he saw the JC Penney's portrait of Echo in the bunch. As well as a shot of Alma and Echo together, and right by was their family portrait. So he made the cut. That was nice to see. Reassuring, actually.

Antonio sat in his designated brown suede recliner, which had the imprint of his body indented into it. He watched his daughter and her family situate themselves on the couch for a moment until Alma took Echo into her arms. 

“Do you want to hold her?” She asked him.

“Echo.” He tried to acclimate to her name, but when he said it, she looked at him with her hazel eyes, curiously.

“Put her down,” Bill suggested when he noticed his daughter wasn’t behaving as timidly as she was at his brother's house. 

Alma placed her on her feet and she began walking towards her grandfather.

“Aye, big girl,” Antonio said, making her smile. “Soy tu abuelo. Pero tú sabes, si?” He said, petting her light hair. 

She took notice of his hand then. A russet, calloused hand, but it was the soft, wrinkly skin on the back of his hand that she was fascinated with. He let her pull and tug at it, as she found it peculiar. The parents were just letting her sus the mood out and navigate herself. Alma’s fingers inched across the suede couch they were on and found Bill’s hand to hold unconsciously. It hadn’t ever occurred to Alma that Echo really hadn’t been around old people. She had seen them at the quad apartment, but she’d never interacted with them before.

“Look, I have two,” Antonio said, introducing his other hand. “How many do you have?” he pointed at her little, stubby hands. “Two, too?” 

“One, two, twee!” She exclaimed.

“Three! That’s too many!” He said, making her laugh. “She looks like you when she laughs.” He said, looking at his adult daughter. “But she looks the most like you.” He said to Bill. 

“‘Tonio,” Connie said from the dining room. 

That was odd for Alma to hear, as that is how her mother would address him too. 

“The food is ready,” Antonio informed them, since his wife was a little shy to do so herself. “Let’s eat.” 

Antonio slowly got up with the help of his cane, and Alma had to resist helping him get upright. He was too proud to accept it, and he didn’t want to have his daughter worry about him that way. Echo returned to Bill and held his hand as they followed the other father-and-daughter pair. 

As they entered the dining room, the food was perfectly presented in Mexican terracotta cazuelas. A spread of carne asada, frijoles molido, arroz, roasted jalapeños, fresh tortillas de maiz, guacamole, quartered limes, and pico de gallo. 

Connie finally sat down with them after making Echo some quesadillas that she cut into the shape of stars. Alma thanked her and complimented the food she had spent time making for them all on behalf of her family. As they ate, Alma found the food to be really tasty and perfectly seasoned. However, being stubborn, she couldn’t admit that it was better than her mother's food. That, she would keep to herself. 

During dinner, the parents shared funny anecdotes about their daughter and spoke about how she was smart for her age, sweet, kind, and maybe a little too rambunctious at times. Bill was telling Antonio about Seattle, but all he did was nod, mostly. To Bill, it felt like he was playing nice with him for Alma’s sake.

“And you know, once we get our house,” Alma continued for Bill as he was adding more guacamole to Echo’s plate upon her request. “You should visit.”

She noticed her father’s gaze stayed on Bill and their daughter while she spoke. Echo was telling Bill that the food was yummy and was holding her spoon out for him to try a mixture of beans, guacamole, and rice she had stirred together. He lightly chuckled at her generosity and redirected the spoon towards her mouth. Connie had spoken up then, and Alma turned her attention towards her.

Bill sat there, wishing to understand what she had said, because suddenly Antonio looked uncomfortable, and Alma flashed him a look of frustration and surprise.

“You’ve been to San Antonio?” She questioned.

“Mhmm,” he said, wiping his mouth nervously. “Well-” 

Alma’s gaze fell, but she then set her feelings aside. “Was it nice?” She asked, pushing her rice into the beans on her plate. “How was it?”

She wanted to be upset, but she hadn’t ever invited him to visit her until now. There was no way in hell she’d ever invite him to New York; he’d just kidnap her and take her back home if he had seen how she was then. It didn’t help that he was also weirdly stubborn about travel and used his age as an excuse. However, she wanted to be happy that at least he was traveling and that somehow his new wife had encouraged him to. 

“It was nice to be back in Tejas,” he lightly chuckled. “But anyway, it’s nice to hear that you’re doing big things in Seattle. But it rains a lot there, and I have arthritis.” 

“Really?” Alma bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else. 

There was a smile creeping on Antonio’s face; sometimes he just liked to mess with her. She was as stubborn as he was, and it was undeniable. Alma shook her head, amused and annoyed that he didn’t give her a straight answer.

As they wrapped up dinner, Connie asked anyone if they’d like coffee, but Antonio asked her to bring back some beers instead. He watched Bill clean his daughter's hands and face with a napkin. He liked that he was so attentive to her. However, it was so strange to see, after having known the young, rough, and tough boy, that his daughter had taken a liking to sitting in his home. Now he was a well-put-together man. He was nice and polite, even. 

Noticing the amount of jewelry they both wore was not lost on him, though. They smelled of expensive complimentary “his and hers” perfume that even the baby smelled as if she had gotten a few spritzes. However, with the state Alma was in when she arrived in Missouri after years of being away, he was still wary of him. He knew how his family—specifically his father—was. 

He observed how Alma and Bill could silently converse with only their eyes, and they remained close to each other. Their bodies always met, no matter if it were their knees against each other or Bill idly touching the material of her clothing. They had an unspeakable bond and understanding with each other. They were both quite intense to experience in person.

It was quite clear that they were in love. Alma had made her choice, and they had a child that bonded them for life now. To interrupt them at this point would just be futile. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d listen to his bargaining anyway.

They had all gone out to the back porch to enjoy the evening so that Echo could meet her chicken cousins. The women walked out to the yard, where the coop was, and joined the flightless birds. Meanwhile, Antonio and Bill stood under the back porch, sipping on their cold beer in awkwardness.

“Duck!” Echo pointed.

“Huh?” Alma said, and then, looking in the direction she pointed, there were indeed two pekin ducks living with the horde of hens. “Yeah, those are ducks!” She said proudly that Echo was able to identify and recognize the difference. 

Antonio looked up at Bill, who smiled proudly overhearing the exchange, and then sighed. “So.” 

“Hmm?” 

Just then, Echo squealed with fright, and Bill’s eyes darted back to her. Alma was picking up the chickens and tossing them up, their wings flapping rapidly as they clumsily settled back down on their feet, stupidly clucking as if nothing had happened. She had been laughing before, but one chicken plummeted too close to her, and she didn’t appreciate that. 

“Uh, Echo’s got a weird thing about animals.” Bill lightly chuckled under his breath. “She likes them, but she thinks they should behave like her stuffed animals. You know, just sitting there looking cute.” He explained. “We went to the zoo in Kansas City, and, eh, she was into it and recognized that they were actual living things. But the heat got to her, so we left early.”

Bill was preserving Echo’s dignity a bit because she actually had a full-blown meltdown from the heat and the overstimulation. She completely fell out like a deadweight on a trail, screaming and crying in a tantrum. It was too hot for Bill and Alma, too, so they resigned and left after wrestling her into the stroller. 

“Ah,” Antonio nodded. “Well, the zoo always seems to be a thousand degrees for some reason.”

“Um, thanks for having us over–” 

“Thanks for getting Alma here,” Antonio interjected. “I know she wanted the deed to the house, but, still… How’d you manage that?” 

“Eh?” Bill shrugged. “I have ways. But I wanted to come here to speak to you in person, actually.” 

“Mm,” Antonio said, raising his brows and taking a sip of his beer. 

“Well,” Bill bit his lip, figuring out his wording. “I want to marry your daughter.” He said it plainly. “And… I’m not asking for permission, frankly. But I just wanted to let you know because I just wanted to do something the right way for once. So I guess what I’m asking is your blessing.” He scratched his neck, feeling a little confused by his own wording. He didn’t want to come off as rude because it was going to happen despite his opinion, but he wanted him to feel included. At least that's what he supposed he was doing now.

Antonio stood in thought for a moment and gazed out to look at his daughter, who was crouched down holding a chicken under her arm and guiding Echo’s hand to pet its brown feathers as she giggled enthusiastically. Bill was bold to say he wasn’t asking for permission, but he knew his daughter would do what she wanted to do regardless of what he thought. As he looked at his daughter and grandchild, he saw the common ground that he shared with Bill. They were both fathers to daughters. 

“That’s a bit tough for me…” 

Bill took a sip of his beer then, feeling a bit tense and wishing he had a lit cigarette between his lips. He had gotten over with what he had traveled so far to say. Why couldn’t Antonio just play his part and say yes? Alma’s decision was as good as concrete, even without having been asked for her hand in marriage yet. 

“You know,” Antonio continued. “There was a moment when I thought Alma may not like boys at all. If you get me,” he peered up at him. “But that was just wishful thinking. I just… Well, you have your daughter, so one day you’ll get it. You won’t think anyone will be good enough.” He sighed. “Maria and I raised Alma to be headstrong, independent, and sure of herself. We feared a lot about the fact that she’d be alone without us much sooner than most. But I see, maybe that wasn’t the best way… Not because, even after being taught all of that, she chose you. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s because we never let her just be a kid. We…” He cleared his throat and seemed to hold back on what he was going to say initially. “She found someone who could let her be just as she is. Just sit back for a moment without having to worry, you know.” 

Bill was surprised; this was the way her father saw things as an outsider. It was so easy to reflect on all the worst things they have been through together. How awful they could even be. Forgetting that even in the self-destructive chaos they had created, they were the only two who could give each other peace as well. In his thoughts, he just resented how much time he wasted deflecting a life he could have lived much sooner had he given in to love and stopped punishing himself. Perpetuating his father’s abuse onto himself and continuing to believe the ugly, harsh words he even beat into his subconscious, making him feel unworthy.

“She can be a bit, eh,” Antonio said, tilting his hand from side to side. “But I’m sure having the baby probably puts a break on some of her antics, too.” He lightly chuckled. Bill thought if only he knew, but then he became serious again. “But… I saw how she looked when she came back from New York. And it didn’t make me like you any more than I already did. It was my daughter who came back, but it wasn’t.” 

Bill frowned apologetically, but he didn’t have any excuses, nor did he want to give them. Antonio took Bill’s obvious remorse as enough. 

“She told me nothing when I questioned her.” He continued. “She defended you so much, it even made me angry. Then I stopped. My ex-wife was sick, and I was just making it worse for both of them at that time.” Antonio shook his head, disliking his behavior at that time. 

“Could I ask why you and Maria divorced?” Bill blurted out of curiosity. He even felt it was such an odd thing for them to do just as much as Alma did. “Actually, you don’t have-” 

“She asked for it.” Antonio frowned. “I told her no. I was in it to the end, but she felt I was unhappy. That she wasted my life being with her, which wasn’t true. At all,” he adamantly stressed. “But then I met Connie at the senior center, and, well, I thought on it for a long while. And eventually, I went through with the divorce. I never cheated. So when you tell my daughter, make sure she knows that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Bill nodded, surprised to be privy to such information. 

“Are you coming?” Alma hollered at her dad from the yard. Connie was showing off her salsa garden now and plucked a cherry tomato off the vine for Echo to try. 

“Yeah,” he waved, and that sufficed. “She doesn’t care if I go out there or not, she just wants to see what the hell we're doing.” Antonio laughed, knowing his daughter all too well. “How do you support her? And don’t bullshit me. Entertainment business?” He shook his head. “You want my blessing; you tell me the truth.” 

Shit. Bill grumbled internally as he stood up straighter and held his chest out. “I own a gentlemen's club in New York City. That’s why I have the money to buy a record shop slash venue. It’s how we can afford a new house in Seattle while we have a penthouse in New York. I have investments here and there, as well as stocks, too.”

Antonio was quiet for a moment, almost as if waiting for Bill to say he was joking, but he said it all straight, no chaser.

“And… Alma worked–”

“She was only a bartender, that’s true. She never danced. I would never—I didn’t allow it.” He said it truthfully, even if he didn’t like how it sounded a little controlling. 

“Hmm.” He contemplatively rubbed his mustache. “So in Seattle, the record shop is really a record shop. It’s not another gentlemen's club?” 

“No, that's real.” He said, leaning against the porch railing. “We brought copies of the magazines with her concert photography if you want some proof.” 

“She went to night school?” 

“She did. She passed and has her accounting certificate.” Bill answered his questions, but he felt bad that he was somewhat skeptical of his daughter's affairs, but at the same time he understood. “Her doing that helps us with our businesses and such, so I’m happy she did it. She worked hard. Work, school, and a baby all at the same time, you know.”

Antonio nodded and then scratched his salt and pepper hair, a bit stressed and in disbelief. “Well, okay... I can’t change what I can’t change.” He resigned begrudgingly. He could see that Bill was one of the better ones out of his family, but he knew he’d still be up to mess, it was just in his blood. “I’m happy to see that she looks well compared to how she returned the last time. All I ask is that you take care of her. There’s no reason she should ever look like that again. She’s the mother of your child, and that is a sacred thing. What I’ve seen today, gave me a little more faith. So yes, you have my blessing.” 

It was as if a weight fell off of Bill’s shoulders hearing that from him. “Alma will be happy to know that you’ve given it. Like, really. She does do whatever she likes, but your blessing will mean a lot to her.” 

Antonio nodded. “How do you deal with that?” 

“With what?” 

Antonio sipped his beer and looked at his daughter enjoying a fresh cherry tomato. “Disobedience.” He raised his brow. 

Bill smirked, licking his lips. “There’s nothing to deal with when you like it.” 

…

They were all back in the den and Antonio and Connie presented Echo with some gifts. They bought her some dresses, bows, and a baby doll, which she was very happy about. While it was her first time meeting these people, it was written all over her face that she didn’t find them half bad at all. Especially when Connie gave her a grape-flavored tootsie pop to occupy her while the adults spoke as the visit was winding down.

Alma had brought a few family photos to show off to her father, but now he was looking at her photography in the magazines. They had given him his own copies, and he seemed quite impressed and proud. 

“And this band is all over the radio?” He asked, peering through the reading glasses he wore on the end of his wide nose. 

“Yeah. Very famous,” Alma said.

“Maybe not very famous if Antonio hasn’t heard of them,” Bill said softly, directed more for Alma’s ears, and winked when Alma tilted her head at him. 

“Hmm. Were you on Bill’s shoulders? You’re above everyone from where this was taken.”

Bill lightly laughed. “No…” 

“I was on the shoulders of a biker friend of mine, Zeph.” 

Antonio side-eyed his daughter and lightly shook his head, a bit displeased. Even surprised that Bill, who wanted to claim her, was unbothered with her on some other man's shoulders and biker at that, but what could he say? His daughter was just always going to be too out there for him. She was a modern woman. Maybe even something completely different from that. 

“Uhm, would it be okay if you watch Echo for an hour, Apá?” She pointed at her daughter, who was putting her lollipop on the baby doll's plastic plump lips to share. 

Bill peered down at her where he sat, giving her a strange look, but was interested in what this was about. 

“Sí, podemos cuidarla. Está bien.” Connie said it with certainty, peering over at Echo and smiling. 

“Gracias.” Alma smiled appreciatively. “Uhm, I’ll change her before we go.” 

“Where are you going?” Antonio finally spoke up. 

“We. I,” she corrected because she was going off script. “I want to check out the bar before we leave tomorrow.” 

“The bar?” Bill said, surprised, scooting up and turning to look at her. 

Antonio was happy that he was questioning her instead of having to do it. She rubbed his arm as she stood up to grab Echo. 

“Yeah, for like an hour.” She assured. Leaving the scene and helping herself to one of the rooms for privacy. 

“Uhm,” he pursed his lips. “Do you mind if I,” Bill pointed and stood up when Antonio gave him a nod. 

Bill walked down a long hallway and cracked open the closest door to find no one. He heard Echo's little shriek from further down, and as he made his way, he passed by Alma’s brother and sister. The altar wasn’t too different from how he remembered it, only this time the urn was arranged in a small alcove where you’d typically keep a telephone. 

“Leo. Liliana. Hi again.” He said under his breath in passing. “What the hell?” Bill said, shutting the door behind him after finding the correct room. 

Alma was placing a new diaper on Echo, who was pulling on her feet and wiggling over her head. “I know, I know.” She sighed while she kept a hand on Echo’s tummy as she dug into the backpack for a onesie. 

“Well? I thought we said no townies?”

“We’re never coming back here again. Why not?” She said, gently tugging Echo’s arms through the sleeves. 

“Your dad hasn’t even given you the deed to the house yet.” 

“He’ll give it to me when we get back. It’s an hour of our lives,” she shrugged. “I’m not trying to stay late. It’s like, what, eight?” 

Bill checked his Rolex watch and felt a little better about it, seeing that it was fairly early. “Almost. Yeah… fine, we better start going then.” 

[violettduchess]

Congrats once again Violet!! ❤️❤️ I hope you get lots of requests to your liking and have fun!! Thank you for all your hard work and the amazing fics you give us 🙇🏻‍♀️ Can I please have...Napoleon + laughing while kissing? 🥺💕 Gahh im excited!! Have a great day!!

A/N: Here you are @kissmetwicekissmedeadly 💜

Napoleon x reader

WC: 1174

You blame it on the fact that you still haven’t quite gotten the hang of operating an oven from the nineteenth century. You’ve watched Sebastian use it and Napoleon, of course. They make it seem effortless. And yet somehow….your efforts have resulted in your Hato Sabure, traditional Japanese dove-shaped butter cookies, looking less like doves and more like blackened crows. A frustrated sigh shuffles past your lips as you look over your personal baking disaster. All you wanted was to make Napoleon a treat, to thank him for the time he has spent with you. All the walks through town, where he points out little things around the city most people would not glance twice at, introducing you to his students, the ones who stare at him with starry-eyed admiration, and especially for coming to your aid the other night, when you were out too late in a town that is too dark for a lone woman hurrying home by dim streetlight. A shudder runs through you at the memory of that circle of men with their hungry eyes and yellow smiles. And Napoleon, appearing like an avenging angel out of the shadows, scattering them back into the dirty corners of the city from whence they came.

The kitchen clock chimes, shaking you out of your reverie, sending a jolt through you. Napoleon will be back soon! You barely have time to make a fresh batch. Your lips press together in a stark line of determination. You have to try.

And you really, really have to hurry.

The Hato Sabure are a beautiful gold, edged in crispy brown and still warm from the oven when you knock on the door of Napoleon’s room. Your heart surges forward when it swings open and he is there, his jacket hanging over the wooden chair by his desk, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

“Nunuche,” he says with a smile that reaches the beautiful jade of his eyes, warming them like the waters of the South Pacific. “What’s this?” 

You step inside, holding the plate of cookies, willing yourself to steady your breathing in the hopes that your heart will follow suit and settle down. 

“I wanted to thank you for the other night. Therefore…..cookies.”

His smile grows and your heart is beating so wildly at its beauty that your lungs are starting to follow your heart's lead, ignoring your brain's commands to breathe evenly. 

“Cookies are always welcome,” he says in that voice of his, that deep, sonorous voice that melts you like chocolate powder in warm milk. He takes the plate from your outstretched hands, his fingers lightly brushing yours. Your skin tingles at the point of contact, his touch sending tiny fireworks of excitement cartwheeling through you. He sets the plate on his nightstand and sits down on the edge of his bed, reaching for a cookie and eagerly takes a large, enthusiastic bite. 

You watch his expression carefully, your lower lip caught between your teeth. They may just be cookies but they are also a piece of you, your homeland, your history, as well as a token of your affection for him. 

Your admiration. 

Your yearning.

He blinks those beautiful nebulous eyes, his chewing suddenly slowing.

He stifles a polite cough behind one large hand, swallowing the mouthful down. This time his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“They are….unlike anything I have ever tried before.” He takes another bite but you notice the way he tenses while chewing.

Oh no….he doesn’t like them.

Despair floods you, too warm and too quick. It leaves you dizzy as you step forward, taking a cookie from the plate and quickly taking a bite. You have to know what's wrong……or they bad...or is it you?

And just as quickly as you bit it, you spit it out with a gasp.

It definitely isn't you.

“They….they’re so salty!” You stare down at the cookie, feeling betrayed and then despair gives way to horror. You were in such a rush to make a new batch….and the salt was in an identical crystal bowl as the sugar…..

“Napoleon, don’t eat anymore! I mixed up salt and sugar!”

“Dieu merci”, he mutters, setting down the half-eaten monstrosity and then at the look on your face, his eyes widen. “Nunuche?”

You can’t help it. You've started laughing. “You….were eating that horrible thing. My god. I am so sorry….I…” Your words are being swallowed by your relieved giggles. The cookies were truly awful. It really wasn’t you. 

Your laughter sparks his own and he reaches out, taking your hands in his and pulls you down onto the edge of the bed next to him. The sound is warm and welcoming and when mingled with yours, it's music to your ears. 

“Y-you were going to keep eating that…that…salt lick, weren’t you?” The idea of him choking down those terrible accidents fills you with equal parts amusement, affection and admiration of his kindness. 

He squeezes your hands, nodding even as he laughs, his gaze downcast as he takes in the sight of your hands in his, a perfect fit. When he looks up, you’re still laughing, softly, eyes bright as you meet his gaze. And then like magnets, you’re both leaning in at the same time, unable to resist each other’s pull, hands gripping each other tightly as the laughter trickles away at the press of his lips to yours. 

Your heart explodes with sunlight, warmth spilling forth from its chambers and filling you with a glow that only he can ignite. A small, final, breathless laugh escapes you and you feel the curve of his smile against your mouth before he begins moving his lips in earnest, his kiss blossoming from something small and contained into something bigger, something new and beautiful and utterly delicious.

When he pulls away, your lips parted in silent protest. He inhales, then gifts you a smile that would brighten even the darkest of midnights. He lifts your hands to his lips, placing a kiss on the top of one, then the other. You allow yourself to be so bold as to run a hand over his soft hair like you’ve been aching to do ever since you laid eyes on him.

“I believe," he murmurs, turning his face to where your raised arm is stroking his hair and placing a kiss on the inside of your forearm, “that this may be the key to removing the taste of your well-intentioned but dreadful treat.”

Again laughter bubbles up from within, from this new-found well of happiness that Napoleon has formed in your heart.

“Is that so?” Your voice is soft with tenderness, effervescent with joy, warm with desire.

He nods, reaching out and winding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Oui. I am sure of it.” His gaze is bright. Playful. Sultry. 

He leans in, capturing your mouth again like the conqueror he is. 

Et tu te rends joyeusement.

And you surrender happily.

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