#like I’ve seen her man a register a couple times and like…

[sweetest-honeybee]

Ooooh the fact your manager hasn't gotten fired yet tells me that she's fucking someone higher up, back when I was a hostess we had a guy that was always no call no show, got into shouting matches with the cooks, etc. Only reason he never got fired? We all soon found out he was fucking our manager

LMAO I’d agree if she wasn’t literally ancient 😂

[themorningsunshine]

Brownies

Pie eyed over you : Chapter 2 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Nothing in this one

Word count - 3.9k

a/n - And here is the second part to the Pie-eyed over you series. I am SO grateful for the love all of you have shown to the first part and I am really excited for you guys to read this. This will (hopefully) not be a very long series but I haven’t decided on how I want it to go so updates might be slow. Please bare with me.Also, let me know what you guys want to see in this story :)

He looks around once before stepping out of the car.

The area is as lively as the last time he had seen it.

Not a lot of changes in 5 days, Bucky 

He can see the bakery from where his car is parked.

He didn't have a reason to be here. For some reason, he hadn't demanded the money last time he was here and he was pretty sure it won't change this time either.

But there was something about this bakery.

It's the cakes. He tells himself, but his suddenly quickening heart tells a different story.

He walks towards the bakery and sees you standing behind the counter, with a small smile on your face, which seems like your default setting, looking at the registers. And just like last time, Bucky's steps falter for a moment before he takes a deep breath as if his lungs had suddenly been deprived of air before walking again.

As he opens the door, the bells above his head jingle and notify you of a new customer.

.

When you look up from the register, your smile grows and turns into a slightly teasing one as you look at the man standing in front of you. You were relieved. Was it okay that you kinda hoped he would come back?

As he walked towards the counter, you spoke up, "Can I say, 'I told you so'?"

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn't help the way his lips were turning slightly upwards. "Come on, sweets. We both know you wanted me to come back."

Your breath hitches in your throat at both the nickname and the comment. You clear your throat, willing yourself to speak, "Of course I did. It's good for business, you know." You tried to sound composed but the smile on your face gave it away.

Bucky chuckled as he took the seat beside the counter and looked at the case full of sweets in front of him. It was still the early hours of the day and there weren't a lot of people in the bakery, except for a couple sitting in the corner and a teenage girl sipping coffee while working on her laptop.

"So, what do you want today?"

You. Bucky's eyes widened as a voice from inside him replied almost instantly and he had to look up to make sure he hadn't said it out loud. What the hell was happening to him? He clears his throat and replies, "Surprise me"

You smile at him before bending to pick up a couple of brownies from the case putting them on a plate and passing them to him. "Just made them. Try and tell me how they are." There was a glint in your eyes and Bucky knew that he could never not like anything you made.

He picked up a brownie and took a bite. As it melted into his mouth, a perfectly sweet taste filling his senses, he closed his eyes and moaned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and clenched your thighs together at his reaction. "Sweets, this is the best damn thing I've ever had."

You chuckled as red color crept up to your neck at the praise. "Glad you liked it, James."

"Liked it? I love it, sweets." He spoke before taking another bite from the brownie.

You stood there for a moment, just looking at him. There was something about him. A rough exterior, covered in dark clothes from top to bottom, but there were moments like these where you saw just how soft he was beneath all that and for some reason, you just couldn't take your eyes off the man who was eating your brownie as if a second without them would kill him.

The sound of the bells jingling at the door brought you out of your daze. You looked at him once more before walking towards the other end of the counter to the middle-aged woman who had just walked in.

When Bucky finished one of his brownies and forced himself to not instantly reach for the other one, he looked around. The bakery wasn't that large. A small, cozy place with a few decorations. Filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies and cakes, it was warm and inviting. It was so you.

Bucky's eyes landed on a shelf beside the counter and his feet brought him to it before his mind could catch up. It was a small shelf but lined with books.

The books looked old as if they had been read over and over again but well kept. Cherished. He brought his flesh hand to one of the books and slowly picked it up.         To kill a mockingbird

He stared at the cover for a moment, before walking back to his seat, with the book in hand.

As he opened the book to the first chapter, the words brought him to a time long gone. An easier time.

He used to read a lot, as much as he could anyways. He liked books. They were an escape. The stories made him forget about the struggles of his own life.

But that was a habit long gone. Another thing he loved that was lost to time.

He starts reading it before he knows what he is doing and instinctively reaches for the brownie on the plate, taking a bite.

You look up from the cash drawer, eyes drifting to the man who has been occupying your thoughts more than you would like to admit.

He is engrossed in a book and his furrowed brows as he focuses on the book and the soft look in his eyes as he skims through the pages has your heart fluttering. You notice the brownies on his plate are almost gone now and trying your best as to not disturb him, you place another two on the plate and watch as he reaches into the plate without looking away from his book and takes a bite. You smile to yourself before getting back to the kitchen to prepare an order of cupcakes.

＊*•̩̩

Bucky looks up as he feels eyes staring at him, only to be met by your y/e/c ones.

"Finally, and I thought you will finish the whole book in one go." You said, letting out a chuckle.

Bucky narrows his eyes. Sure, the page he was on and the feel of the chair proved that he had been there for long, but it couldn't have been that long, right? "How long has it been?"

You smile at him before tilting your head towards the little clock adorning the walls and Bucky's eyes widen. It had been 2 hours. What the hell had happened to his sense of time?

He hadn't felt this at peace in ... a very long time. He looked down at his plate which still had a small piece of a brownie left and he could swear he could still taste it in his mouth. How many had he really eaten?

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts. "So.." You kept your head on your fist and leaned on the table with a teasing smile on your face and it was becoming difficult for him to focus on the outside world. "And this is a wild guess. Like, completely random. You like reading?"

He let out a chuckle before thinking about your question. "I used to." 

"What happened?" You ask with genuine curiosity. He looks at you and realizes that you're not asking just for the sake of it. You want to know. You want to know him.

"Life. Life happened." He replies, only because he can't get himself to lie to you.

"Come on, James. If we are not able to find time for the things we love, are we really living?"

He looks at you as if pondering over your words. It wasn't that easy.

"I know what you should do." You stood before taking the book away from him, dog-earing the page before sliding it back towards him. "Here, take this book with you."

When he narrowed his eyes, you continue, "Take it with you and read it. When you're done, come back and return it to me." You explain as if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if giving him one of your favorite books that you had cherished for so long wasn't a big deal at all.

Bucky shook his head. "Nope, no, sweets. I am not taking it."

"Come on. You don't leave a book in the middle if you like it. It's a crime."

"Then I'll just buy it from the bookshop. This is yours." He said before sliding the book back towards you.

"We both know you won't do that. Come on, James. Just take it."

He picked up the book and slid it into his metal hand, knowing that there was no use in arguing with you but said with a smirk. "Careful there, sweets. Or I'll think you're giving me this book because you want me to come back."

As if on cue, the bell of the entrance dings notifying you of a customer. So, you turn back to look at him for the last time before saying, "Maybe I do."

And Bucky really hopes it's true.

*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

He comes back a week later.

And the week after that.

He comes to the bakery every week until it becomes a routine. A part of him. A part engraved in his life as if it had always been there. It's simple.

He would come to the bakery, the book you gave to him last week tugged under his arms. Sometimes he would be finished with it, other times, he would just promise to return it the next week. You didn't mind. Not till he kept showing up.

He would sit beside the counter, ordering whatever it was you recommended. When you asked him how it was, he would always reply with 'The best damn thing I've ever had.' and he could swear to god he meant it every single time.

The both of you would talk, as much as you could anyways and Bucky found that being around you was the simplest part of his whole week, and the most precious too. It was his little escape. A time when he didn't care what was happening. About the people working for him or the people behind his life, he couldn't care less. All that mattered was that he was there, in the middle of a little bakery, eating sweets and talking to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

You didn't mind either. Somehow, every single time the bell of the entrance jingled, you silently hoped it was the same beautiful blue eyes that you just couldn't take your mind off.

The only trouble was, it is really easy to get distracted from running a bakery all alone when you have a guy like him sitting there, carefree and yet intimidating as if he owned the place. It was very distracting.

And one day, you let him know exactly that. It had been a month since he had shown up at the bakery for the first time. A book on the table and a plate of cookies, talking to you as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

You walked back from the cash register after handling a customer before speaking up, "You know, I have a bakery to run, James, and you are pretty much the most distracting person here." Even though your words were borderline harsh, you let him know through your teasing tone that you were just kidding. Him stopping to come to the bakery was the last thing you wanted.

"Aww, come on, sweets. We both know I am your favorite customer." He replied with a smug look on his face and you didn't know if you wanted to slap it from his face or kiss it. Definitely the latter.

"You wish, James."

.

As if on cue, the bell of the door jingles, and Bucky looks that way to see a young pregnant lady with a blond man standing at the door.

He looks back at you to find you grinning from ear to ear and watches as you practically run from behind the counter towards them and engulf the woman in a big hug, angling yourself so as to not hurt the evident bump.

When you do the same with the blonde man, the air surrounding Bucky suddenly thickens and he realizes he isn't going to like this man much. But it was just because he is blonde. Bucky has never liked blonde guys.

You say something to the both of them before bringing them inside towards a table near to where Bucky is sitting and helping the pregnant lady on a chair. You still have the widest grin on your face when you turn toward him.

"James, this is my best friend, Wanda, and her elder brother, Pietro." You said before pointing towards them.

"He is literally elder than me by 13 minutes." The brunette points at you accusingly as you snicker.

"Still older." The blonde replies with an accent just like his sister.

"Guys, this is James." You point toward him and Bucky watches as something flashes through Wanda's eyes and her lips turn into a teasing smirk.

"So, he is THE James Barnes." She brought her hand towards him to shake before continuing, "She has told me so much about you."

At this, Bucky turns towards you with a smirk on his face and raised brows and watches as your cheeks turn red. Just then, the oven dings and you thank heavens for the distraction, "That's my cue."

You turn back and walk towards the kitchen with hurried steps as Bucky's eyes follow your form, just like they always do. When you disappear into the kitchen and he finally takes his eyes off and turns back, he finds Wanda looking at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk as if she could read his mind.

Bucky cleared his throat, "So, how do you know y/n?"

"We met years ago when she came to visit here as a kid. Have been friends since."

Bucky shook his head but clenched his jaw when she still didn't remove her accusing stare from him.

Pietro, sensing the slight tension between them, tried breaking the silence, but Wanda cut him off, "Where have I seen you before?"

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat. You still didn't know who he was and if it was up to him, he would keep it like that for as long as he could. You looked at him as if he was human as if his hands weren't covered in blood as if you weren't scared of him and he would do everything he could to keep it that way.

"I don't know. You must be mistaken." He took a breath to calm himself down. He couldn't intimidate this woman the way he did with his people. He wouldn't give her a reason to doubt him. She clearly meant a lot to you.

As Wanda opened her mouth to speak, you came back from the kitchen, interrupting the conversation.

You looked towards Pietro before speaking, "The boxes are in the back, and please be careful this time."

Pietro brought his hand to his chest as if your words had somehow hurt him. "You hurt my feelings, y/n. When am I not careful?"

You brought your finger to your chin in mock thinking before replying, "Let me think. Off the top of my head, maybe whenever you drive your bike way past the speed limit. I swear to god, Pietro, one day, your speed will ruin all my sweets."

"Ouch, you care about your sweets more than me?" He said as if your words had physically hurt him this time.

This time, Wanda replied, "Pietro, my dear brother, even I care about her sweets more than you."

The both of you chuckled as Pietro huffed and stomped off towards the back.

You looked at James before explaining, "He does the deliveries for me, as a favor. Believe it or not, it's difficult to deliver stuff in a town you know nothing about."

Bucky lightly chuckled before replying, "Tell me about it."

He then looked at Wanda once again and saw that she was staring at him with the same glare from before, but thankfully, you didn't notice.

He knew he had to leave soon. He wouldn't give her enough time to put the pieces together. "Sweets, I should go."

"You, sure? You could stay. I am sure Wanda wouldn't mind."

"No, I know. But I will leave you to it. Bye, sweets. Bye, Wanda." He turned towards the door quickly as if he couldn't get out of there sooner.

"James, wait." You called out to him and he stopped midstep. He will never get tired of how his name sounded on your lips. "Here. You forgot this." You handed him the book he had been reading for the past week and look up at him with a smile on your face.

Yeah, he definitely didn't want you to find out.

As he walked out of the bakery, you turned back towards Wanda, the smile etched on your lips and a soft look in your eyes. "So....." Wanda started in a teasing tone.

"Don't say it. Don't say it."

"He is hot."

You rolled your eyes at her. "What would Vision think, Wan?"

"You know what I mean."

You bit your lips before looking at her. "It's nothing like that. We are friends. Or at least I hope we are."

"Yeah, because going around calling people sweets is the new thing men do."

You plopped yourself on the chair opposite to her before burying your face into your hands. "It's just a nickname that stuck."

Who were you lying to? You couldn't hide from your oldest friend the fact that every part of you knew that him calling you sweets was the best sound in the whole world. She brought her hands to yours and removed them from your face and you looked up to be met by her serious gaze. "Just be careful, y/n. Something about him just doesn't seem right."

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙

The corridors of this building always seemed darker when he came back from the bakery. He already missed how warm and inviting it was. The book tugged under his arm the only reminder that he had been there.

He heard some voices coming from his office and as he walked closer, he recognized the voices instantly.

He opened the door to his office, only to find Steve and Sam standing in the middle of the room.

"You're finally here." Sam almost exclaimed with relief as his eyes landed on Bucky. "What, couldn't handle this place for a few hours without me, Wilson?" He looked at him teasingly.

"Shut it. Stark called, asking about you. I had to make some half-ass excuse to him. But I am pretty sure he knew I was lying. That man is too smart, I am telling you." "Don't worry about it. I'll give him a call. Will schedule a meeting with him."

Sam crossed his arms across his chest. "What, you're not even gonna tell us where you were?"

Choosing to ignore his question, Bucky walked and sat on the couch. "How's Carl? Alive?" He asked as if he couldn't care less about the answer.

"He is still in there. Breathing." Steve replied before contemplating his next words. "Buck, do you think you were maybe a little too harsh on him? A week in the dungeon filled with our enemies is not really a vacation."

"He got what he deserved, Steve. We can't go easy on them."

Sam looked at Bucky with an accusing gaze before speaking up again. "So I lie to Tony Stark and handle all the chaos in here for the whole day and you just conveniently ignore my question of where you were."

Steve gave Bucky a once-over before smirking. "Let it go, Sam. Bucky has got a lot on his hands."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve before looking down, only to find crumbs of cookies still sticking to his hands.

He not-so-subtly rubbed his palms on his trousers before looking up and ushering the both of them outside the room with a lame excuse.

.

He placed the book he had brought with him on his table and opened it, only to find something in the middle of two pages. He opened it to find a small flower kept gently between two pages. A little pressed, but fresh, telling him that you had sneaked it in between today.

He picked up the flower, oblivious to the smile on his face when his eyes landed on a small note sticking to it. In swift handwriting, it read                                                To my favorite customer

Bucky couldn't help the way his heartbeat quickened or how he just couldn't remove the smile from his face. But he couldn't care less.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard knocks on the door to his office. Tucking the flower and the note inside the book, he turned towards the door and called out for the person to enter.

When the door opened, his eyes landed on one of his men. "Walker, what do you want?"

"Sir," He said bowing his head a little to him. Bucky never really liked John Walker. He always tried to show himself to be more than what he actually was. But he got the work done and he hadn't given him a reason to not trust him.

"Sir, I checked the collections for this month and I noticed something."

Bucky nodded his head, not really paying attention to whatever he had to say.

"The new Bakery." Bucky's eyes shot up and he tried his best as to not look too interested. "That baker hasn't paid this month too, sir and we can't ignore this. She is trying to rebel. Has no idea what she is trying to go against."

Bucky didn't like where this conversation was going. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. It's just a bakery."

Walker narrowed his eyes at him. When had the most ruthless mafia boss gone so... soft? But maybe he just didn't care for some stupid baker.

"Sir, this sets a wrong example. People will try to imitate her and that is never a good sign."

Bucky was growing impatient now, This isn't how it was supposed to go. "Just let it go, Walker."

"It's okay, sir. I understand that you don't want to get your hands dirty. Please let me handle this. I promise I wouldn't disappoint."

Bucky should have ordered him to not do anything. Should have just given him some other thing to do. But he didn't want to gain suspicions. He couldn't show that he cared about anything. It would always go against him.

He knew this wasn't going to end well, but he nodded his head at Walker. There was no way in hell he would hurt you or anyone without his permission but it didn't mean he was letting Walker anywhere near you without him around.

But among all this, one question lingered in his mind.

Why did he care so much?

Next part 

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[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Not sure if you've seen it but could you please do a Graves siblings x Denji from Chainsaw Man style reader?

I’ve never seen Chainsaw Man, not an anime guy- but reading up the Wiki gave me some idea

Andrew and Ashley Graves x Denji Style!Reader

It’s been said many times your impulsivity and general unawareness would be your downfall

Mostly by old farts who think of you as nothing but street trash

It’s not your fault you never finished high school. Not your fault you never socialized properly as a child.

They can fuck off for all you care

But in this moment…you hated how right they were

Your breathing was staggered, air becoming a commodity as you felt blood fill your lungs. Your body curled up into itself, clutching your stomach. Everything hurt. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to be alive.

Footsteps became distant, leaving you in this cold- trash ridden alley, the pricks taking your wallet- and dignity- with them. Not like they’d find much, you had about 20 bucks to your name. They’ll be back for more eventually.

Most kids got their father’s eyes, some their noses- not you. No. Your father oh so graciously left you with his debt to the fucking mob! Asshole thought putting a new hole in his head would get him out of it, and it did- but all that fell on to you. You swore that as your swollen ear was pressed to the concrete, you could hear the prick laughing from hell.

You were gonna die here. You knew that. At least then the debt will finally be gone, you don’t have a kid to pass it along to and you’re an only child. Maybe they’ll track down your mother?….

You groan in pain, though it’s a pitiful attempt to call for help. No one will come find you. They’ll probably think you’re just some homeless person wallowing in their misery.

You tried to open your eyes, but unfortunately they were both too swollen to accomplish that. Tears pricked the corners and fell down your cheeks- causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt too much to cry, but you couldn’t help but sob as breathing became harder and harder. Your throat swelled in pain, you couldn’t swallow down the blood filling it.

Air slowly left your body as you drifted into unconsciousness….the last thing you remember feeling was a hand on your arm.

By all accounts, you should be dead

You wish you were dead

But god is a sick fuck who kicks around their most pathetic toys for entertainment

And you’re one of his pathetic toys

You slowly came too, the feeling of trash bags no longer cushioning you- but rather an actual cushion.

It smelled of cigarettes, but it was honestly preferred over wet garbage

Your body felt sore, but significantly less bloody

In fact….you were patched up

Poorly, some bandages were loose and some were way too tight- but it was better than exposed wounds that could get infected

You attempted to lift yourself to a sitting position, but the pain was unbearable. Along with that, any motions you continued to make were interrupted by two voices,

“Oh hey- woulda look at that. A zombie.”

“Oh my god!”

You couldn’t even register what was happening before you felt someone at your side. Helping you up was a guy, around your age you estimated, with messy black hair and striking green eyes. He struggled to hold you up and grab a pillow, so he narrowed his eyes over the back of the couch.

“Give me a hand would ya!” It wasn’t so much of a question as a demand.

“God! Alright alright, hang on.”

Shuffling noises became closer, but it was all behind you and it hurt to try and turn to inspect. From what you could hear though, the voice sounded more feminine and significantly more chill about this situation than the guy.

Speaking of which, the guy carefully lowered you on to some pillows, a couple throw ones from the dingy couch and one more fit for a bed. You got a better look at the owner of the feminine voice.

She was shorter than the guy, same messy black hair- only this time tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a soft shade of pink. She stared at you unamused while the guy hovered over you worriedly. It made you anxious. What sucked even more was you didn’t know who these people were, and why you were here! Last you remembered you were dying in an alley! The fuck?!

“Oh shit- uhm-“ the guy bit down on his finger to think, “Fuck what do we do?”

“Beats me,” the woman shrugged, “It was your idea to bring them here.”

“THE FUCK IT WAS”

You flinched at the sudden change of tone.

He pointed a finger at the woman, who stood unphased still, “You are not putting this on me- not again! You had the bright idea of using them for—“ he paused, suddenly remembering your presence. If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve said something, but instead he grabbed the woman by her wrist and led her into the bathroom with her protesting the entire way.

Finally, with your changed seating position and privacy, you could examine where the hell you were. Taking a look around at the peeling wallpaper, stained carpet, and two dingy beds (one surprisingly made despite there being two occupants)- you deduced it was a motel. A motel with very thin walls that allowed you to vaguely pick up on the two’s hushed conversation….

“….lets just ditch them.”

“No! We can’t do that…..might go to the police.”

“Maybe not….they looked like a bum.”

“Ashley!”

“Well? Am I wrong?”

The rest was a back and forth of deciding your fate while you sat by, twiddling your thumbs….or you would if you could move your arms. At least you learned the name of one of your saviors….or captors in this case.

Moments later, the guy and Ashley exited the bathroom- standing before you, one significantly more tense than the other.

“Uhm- sooooo, hi.” The guy started.

“Hey…” your voice was still strained from pain, “Look I heard you two in the bathroom….I won’t tell the cops anything.”

“Yeah, cause you’re not leaving.”

Crickets. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I….” You blinked, “I’m what?”

“See- here’s the thing,” Ashley strode forward, ignoring the guy’s protest, “You’ve seen our faces, and thanks to these thin ass walls you know my name at least. His is Andrew by the way—“

“Ashley!”

“What? I’m not going down alone!” She retorted before turning to you again, “So, you can’t leave.” She sounded a little disappointed.

You blinked, still processing all of this. Did you just get kidnapped?? You took in the figured of your captors, their body languages vastly different. But…in some sick way….this benefited you.

The mob thinks you’re dead. You can’t just walk free now, not in case one of their members finds you alive and reports it back to their boss. And these guys are already on the run from what it seems…

You can work with this.

Andrew Graves

The more comfortable you became to this situation- the more it was apparent you and Ashley were tiring Andrew out

He had grown used to his sister’s impulsivity, but your own was new territory to him

Also a new source of gray hairs…

Honestly, you assumed he hated you

But….despite what he says- you believed Ashley when she told you that bringing you along was his idea

Things still felt tense, just the two of you

And you’re still not entirely convinced he enjoys having you around

But that just made the moments where your brazen antics made him laugh all the more enjoyable

To an extent, Andrew was patient with you

He took care of a lot of the social and book smarts stuff, areas you lacked in

It felt nice having someone take care of it, instead of chastising you to do better

Andrew stared at you in quiet disgust, his elbow rested on the diner’s table. In your run, the three of you decided to stop at this diner to eat. The place was littered with 50’s memorabilia- neon signs, a jukebox, obnoxiously plush booths to sit in. Great if you ignore literally everything about the 50’s!

You had settled next to Andrew, sitting closest to the wall while he took then end. Ashley had seated across from you two, but she had since gone to the bathroom, leaving just you two.

Seated on the table in front of you was an array of sauces, each opened for you to dip your fries into. The concoction of sauces were a mess on your shirt, face, and hands- something Andrew visibly recoiled at.

Andrew scoffed, “Y/N-“ you looked up, “C’mere.”

Reaching over you, Andrew grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the sauce on your face- to which you squirmed at irritably. Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Hold still!” He became a little more aggressive with his cleaning, “God- has anyone ever taught you how to clean yourself!”

You decided to fight back in the only way you could think of, and that was by throwing a sauce covered fry at Andrew. You both paused as the projectile stuck to his sweater before it pathetically peeled on and on to the floor below you two. You blinked. Andrew blinked, then grabbed a fry, and threw it back at your face.

What followed was an in booth fight of several things being thrown: sauces, food, punches- ending with Andrew getting you in a headlock.

“Say it!”

“Never!”

“Fucking say it!” Andrew tightened the headlock as you flailed about.

You wheezed, “Ah! Asshole I can’t breathe!” You tried to pry his arm away, “Fine! Uncle! Uncle!”

With that, he released you- leaving you wheezing as you scooted away. He had that smug grin on his face though, a grin of victory. You flipped him off.

“Dick.” You muttered.

Andrew grabbed a napkin and began cleaning himself off, “You started it friend, I finished it.” He turned to you, pushing his basket of untouched fries to you, “Here. Most of yours are on the floor.”

You looked at him, tentatively reaching your hand for the basket before quickly pulling it to your side- feasting on them like a rabid raccoon. Andrew no longer watched in disgust, but a strange fondness in his eyes.

Ashley Graves

Maybe part of the reason Ashley kept you around was because you went along with her ideas

They were about the same thought process you had, so why not

You two always beat Andrew in votes for how to navigate a problem

And somehow always ended up pushing through it

Maybe she just liked how obedient you were with her

She’s easy on the eyes, and who are you to argue with a pretty woman

She never chastised you for your antics or behavior, but rather rewarded it

“So good Y/N!”, ruffling your hair, squishing your face while cooing all this praise

It felt….nice

So it made you feel terrible whenever it got taken away

Ashley was easy to upset, you learned that

You’d precariously tiptoe the line, and eagerly await the affection when she recovered and liked you again

You wished you never made her upset…

The air felt thick with tension, Ashley’s back turned to you as she looked out the window. It was just the two of you in the backseat of the hitman’s van, Andrew having stopped on the side of the road for a bathroom break. You didn’t know what you did wrong- but it must’ve been something to make her upset with you.

You tentatively reached out a hand, debating whether or not to grab hers. Before you could make the decision, she pulled it away without looking. A small whine arose from the back of your throat, like a hurt dog.

You wish you were a dog sometimes.

A dumb dog who couldn’t mess things up, maybe then she’d love you again.

“Ashley…” your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

“What?” Her voice felt like a knife stabbing at your heart.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you lowered your hand.

Ashley’s body made the slightest movement, “For?”

You tensed. Genuinely, you didn’t know what you did, but it must’ve been something. You gulped, looking down at the floor of the car, “For….” You grimaced as you couldn’t think of anything.

Ashley sighed, turning to face you. Her pink eyes stared into your own, you shrank a little at her glare, “Genuinely- you don’t know what you did?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Ashley sighed, apparently seeing you on the verge of crying was enough for her to open her arms to you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself into her arms- face burying itself into the crook of her neck as you sniffled. You felt her hand tangle itself into your hair, almost petting you.

“There there…” she shushed, “You’re forgiven.”

It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders as she said those words, you held on to her tighter- not wanting to let go. Not wanting to lose the one person who didn’t make you feel stupid or like a burden or annoying or- any of those things.

Ashley made you feel warm. Ashley made you feel good. Ashley is good.

And you want nothing more than to be good for her..

[ar4chn333]

“I Just Got You Back”

Michael Bluth x fem reader

Summary:

You and Michael shared your chaotic childhoods as best friends until your father moves your family away, devastating both of you. Twelve years later, you reunite. Convincing Michael to take the day off work, you revisit old memories…and make some spicy new ones. (2,473 words)

Contents:

Pörn with plot, p in v, praise, f!ngering, kinda tooth-rotty ngl, friends to lovers, x fem reader

Waiting anxiously a few feet from the door, you quickly fix your hair, pushing it behind your ear. Your mother steps ahead of you, giving the door three knocks before stepping back by your side.

“Let’s hope Lucielle has wine,” she chirps.

“Please,” you chuckle softly, careful not to be heard through the door. “If there’s one thing I remember about Lucielle, it’s the attitude–and the alcohol.”

“Amen,” your mom smiles in your direction, raising her eyebrows in anticipation, clearly excited to see her friend of over 40 years. Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Lucille. She was quite harsh and you remember her outright insulting you as a child but you didn’t mind if it meant you got to see Michael. The two of you spent long, hot summers in the Bluth banana stand, teasing each other, commiserating, and of course, half-assedly selling frozen bananas. You jump a little when the door to the model home swings open and out pops Lucielle who promptly hugs your mother then does the same to you.

“Got rid of that deadbeat husband, I see Jennifer?” Lucielle blurts.

“You should have seen the divorce party,” your mom retorts, giggling.

Lucille motions you two inside, making a bee-line into the kitchen to pour another drink. “You’re old enough to drink now, right?” she asks you. “Oh, yes, though I’ll have some later, thank you,” you reply. Lucielle rolls her eyes playfully as she takes a sip and hands your mom a glass. The two start chatting away and you prepare for a long night of third-wheeling two drunk middle-aged women. However, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs and a man’s voice, seemingly trailing up and down the upper floor plan. You wonder if it’s George, though the voice is much smoother than his, and you can’t make out many of the words. You turn back to the women’s conversation, deciding the mysterious noise is none of your business.

A few moments later you hear footsteps descending the stairwell. Whipping your head around, you see a man in a light blue button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a maroon tie with a phone up to his ear, which he promptly shuts upon landing on the first floor. He looks up. It takes a moment for your brain to register who he is, but when it finally does, you dart out of your chair.

“Michael! Oh my god!”

“y/n!”

He wraps you in a bear hug, nearly lifting you off of the floor. Senses overwhelmed by the scent of cologne and the warmth of his body, you sink into him ever so slightly. After a couple seconds you briefly pull away, your arms still on his, to look at him. He’s gorgeous and has grown into his stunning blue eyes perfectly.

“How long has it been? Ten-ish years?” He says, beaming.

“More like twelve,” you retort, having actually counted beforehand during the car ride over.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he says softly before chuckling nervously, as if the comment were a knee-jerk reaction. He smiles sheepishly, hand traveling to the back of his head. “Thank you,” you reply blushing and looking away briefly, stomach alight with butterflies.

Michael pulls out his phone, holding it up. “I really wish I could stay and chat but I have to head back to the office–Gob is causing trouble again.”

“Oh lord, what this time?”

“Can I tell you tonight? I’ll be back around 7.”

“I see you’re grown into your work ethic too huh? That’s not the Michael I remember at the banana stand,” you chuckle.

“No kidding, I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Are you sure you can’t take today off? We could go to the banana stand and walk around!”

“I’m sorry y/n, Gob’s a handful and I’ve got to take care of this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight then,” you say fake-pouting. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder for a brief moment and begins to walk towards the door. “You’d think the place is imploding with the way he acts,” shouts Lucielle with every intention of Michael hearing it. He turns back around to glare at her before locking eyes with you. Perhaps childishly, you make a fake explosion sound with an accompanying dramatic gesture from your hands. He pauses for a moment, looking back at his phone, then once again at you.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

Smiling ear-to-ear, you hop into his car and head to the banana stand. Walking around, you exchange stories of your childhood together–the banana stand, the bike rides, and burns from attempting to operate the cornballer. Though you leave it unsaid, you once again feel the pain of being thirteen and leaving Michael behind when your Dad decided to set up his company headquarters far outside of California. The pit in your stomach begins to subside when you glance back at the banana stand as the two of you walk past. The night before you left, the two of you were stocking supplies when you began to cry about your life being uprooted and most of all, losing your best friend. He kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever–and his too. Leaving broke your heart.

The two of you grab dinner and you find him to be just as funny, charming, and awkward as you left him, only now, he was devastatingly handsome. You talk about your respective jobs, ambitions, and hopes over the food, collectively realizing how weird your childhoods were–but at least you had eachother for most of it.

The two of you pull into the driveway, and he opens the door for you as you exit the car with the sweetest smile on his face as he holds your hand to help you up. You see your mom’s car and figure she’s probably passed out along with Lucielle. “I think your ride is probably asleep,” says Michael. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night, we have a spare bedroom for you to use.”

“Thank you, I’m not drunk or anything, but it certainly wouldn’t be safe for me to drive, much less attempt to wake my mother,” you chirp.

He opens the door to the house slowly and lets you inside. The lights are off so you tip-toe around to the stairs. “Where’s the extra bedroom?” You ask.

“Up here and to the right–I’ll show you,” he replies.

“Oh, perfect,” you let out with a relieved sigh, flopping on the bed, certainly feeling the sedative effects of the alcohol. “Any chance I could get some clothes to sleep in?”

“Sure! I have a shirt you could wear.”

Michael walks out of the room–the light still off with you perched on the bed. You’d have to travel back to your place in the morning. Though it was only a couple of hours away, you felt like Michael was being taken away from you again and it hurt all the same. You wanted more of him–to be around him, to talk about nothing and everything…to touch him.

He walks back into the room with a baggy shirt in hand, backlit by the slight light of the hallway. Hopping up, you glide toward him, reaching your arms out. He hugs you deeply and you feel his heart through his chest and his breath on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

“I feel like I just got you back,” he says, still embracing you. Slowly, he pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you. And for a brief moment, you just look at eachother. As if in sync, your faces move towards each other, his soft lips making contact with yours. He starts slowly, savoring every moment he tastes you, the texture of his stubble on your face making you melt. Pulling you in closer he deepens the kiss, smiling when an ever-so-slight sound escapes your lips. Your hand slides up his back, to his neck, and finally to his hair which you run your fingers through, gripping it slightly as he presses against you. The feeling of your hand on him causes him to breathe deeply against you, hungry for your touch.

“You’re burning up,” he says. You look at him concerned, cheeks and chest flushed a bright red. Eventually you realize what he means.

“It just means I’m enjoying this,” you chuckle, going in for another kiss. His hands trail farther down to your lower back and eventually to your hips. You let out a slight gasp as he pulls them towards his body. Almost out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump, your thighs resting on his hips and your legs wrapped around him. Forearms on your legs, his hands cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as he carries you towards the wall. Back on the wall, you let out a moan as he leans into you. His lips trail from your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly against the tender skin. You grow wetter as you feel him getting hard from inside his pants, your nails dragging along the shirt on his back.

“I want you, y/n. And not just tonight–I want you with me. I can’t lose you again,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me–you’re stuck with me now,” you giggle, pausing to lock eyes with him. You lean closer once again, lips almost touching his “So fuck me, Michael.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around to the bed, he lays you down gently, once again trailing kisses down your neck. When he gets to your collarbone, his hands begin to reach up your shirt, fingers tracing along your ribs and to your tits. He lifts your shirt off, sitting up for a second to admire you laid out for him, legs around his hips. You get a little shy, covering your breasts with your arms but he pulls them away continuing his trail of kisses from your collar bone to your sternum and finally to your nipple. Your back arches at the sensation of his mouth, tongue circling and lips sucking. Moaning softly, your hands tug on the back of his shirt, eager to feel the skin of his torso against yours. You reach down to unbutton his shirt before stripping off his undershirt.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he coos. You look down at him as his lips continue down your body, his mouth emitting the smallest sounds as he licks and sucks, driving you wild. Kissing just before the band of your underwear, you let out a moan, desperate for him. “Good girl,” he whispers. His words send shivers down your body, your underwear now drenched in anticipation. Slowly, he pulls off your pants, noticing your legs shaking for him already. He puts his hand over your most sensitive region, looking up at your expression–brows furrowed and mouth agape at his touch.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good,” you whine.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers deviantly.

His fingers trace along your pantyline, pulling them down at a painfully slow pace, causing you to squirm underneath him. Running a finger through your folds, you whimper at the pleasure.

“Please, Michael.”

At the sound of your words, his middle and index fingers begin to circle your clit. Your hand reaches to clench the bedsheets while the other occupies itself with his soft brown hair. Your back arches suddenly and you buck your hips against him. Your moans become louder but are soon muffled by his mouth against yours. “That’s my good girl, so sensitive.” No sooner than he finishes his sentence, he slips his fingers inside of you, thumb now circling your clit. Curling them, he hits your g spot as you claw at his back, body pulsating with pleasure. “You’re doing so well, baby. It feels like you’re ready for me,” he coos.

“Please, Michael, I want your cock inside me,” you moan, locking eyes with him. His pupils widen as you palm him through his pants, biting your lip. He lets out a groan, sounding almost like the growl of an animal as he grows painfully hard. Sitting up, he undoes his belt in front of you as your hands trace the inside of your thighs, ready for him. Slipping off his pants, he raises one of your legs over his shoulder. Locking eyes with you, his hand runs the tip of his cock along your folds as your head tilts back in pleasure. Lining up with your entrance, he presses slightly into you, gasping at the feeling of your pussy. His hips slowly descend towards yours, cock pressing further and further into you. You let out a small whimper at his size, but quickly adjust to take him in.

“Oh Michael,” you let out, along with a stream of unintelligible whimpers.

He begins to slide his cock in and out of you, slowly, as not to hurt you. The delicious sounds that escape his mouth ring distinctly in your ears, causing you to clench around his member. You look down to see his hips colliding into yours, your legs shaking around him, buzzing with warmth and electricity at the feeling of him inside of you. He moves faster, pushing into you with increasing force and eliciting yelps upon contact.

“Shh baby, we don’t want to wake them up,” he says while continuing to pound you. Clearly unable to hold in your sounds, he slips two fingers into your mouth and your lips close obediently around them. You taste yourself on his fingers, moans escaping in the form of high-pitched hums in rhythm with his strokes.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he fucks you, winding tighter every time he slides his cock into you. His thrusts grow more erratic, his mouth agape, on the verge of unwinding. He then takes your other leg, placing it over his shoulder, causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you as you squirm and buck beneath him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Michael!” you yelp.

Warmth runs over your body and the string comprising the knot in your stomach is pulled on like a ripcord, unraveling furiously. Your body shakes and your whimpers break in time with his movement while an electrical current overtakes your body with pleasure. Michael follows soon behind, cumming as his moans echo in the room and his thrusts dissipate.

He rolls over beside you as your arms cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much–I missed my best friend,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Come biking along the beach with me tomorrow.”

“I would love that,” you whisper, smiling ear to ear.

Author’s note in comments💕💕💕

[peakbys]

HOMECOMING [1/?]

Pairing:  Arthur Shelby x Fem!Reader, Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Summary: Despite everything, somehow the roads you walked always ended taking you back to Birmingham, and to the odd relationship you had with the two eldest Shelby boys. When your aunt passes away and leaves you her home, you don’t find yourself in a position to refuse and realize that a lot of things aren’t how you left them in Small Heath.  Warnings:  Death, some angst and awkwardness but nothing too intense this time. Note: Hey! This is my first dip into the universe, so I apologize if the character’s seem a little off. I tried my best and rewrote a number of things, but I’m still trying to find my footing with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I’m excited to start putting this fic together, finally.  Tag list (to be added just leave me a comment!): --

It took you a while to find her grave among the crowded tombstones, a part of you still not quite registering that you really were looking at her final resting place.

While the stone itself was still clean, new, it didn’t appear that she got many visitors. Outside of yourself, of course. Really, your mind was still with the letter you had received about her passing–a friend of hers had found her, thankfully not too long after she had passed. You were the person that she had named in a will to get the house, as much as it wasn’t anything too special. She had fought to keep it, though, and you could see in some sense why she would want to give it to family.  

There had been a bit of a war in you over obligation and personal reluctance for a couple days after you received the news. In the end, given where you currently stood, the victor of that fight was clear. You knew that perhaps you should have visited her home, first, before her grave. Yet, a part of you couldn’t bring yourself to go see what condition it was in.

Instead, you walked along the graves, a few flowers in one hand and a case of your belongings in the other.

With a small sigh, you dropped the case in your hand down near your feet before you bent down before the stone.

“Here you are, auntie,” you muttered, placing the flowers down on the base of the grave, “I couldn’t find your favorites, but you always said you liked to have a little bit of nature around. Brighten up the place a little.”

You rested your arms on your knees as you continued to remain crouched near the tombstone. Growing up, you had always huffed and complained about her insistence that you minded the plants she had in her home. Making sure you watered some at certain times, moved others to certain windows as the day progressed. Given how gray it usually was, you hadn’t seen what sunlight they would get, but it made her happy and that was what had you doing it in the end.

She had been pessimistic about a lot of things, including the idea of getting out of Small Heath, but she appreciated the flowers and plants.

“It was natural,” a voice started, snapping you out of your thoughts as you almost shot back up to your feet, whirling around to see someone standing a couple steps away from where you were.

“What?” you asked, almost reflexively. You watched as the man bowed his head somewhat toward your aunt’s grave, eyes somewhat obscured by the flat-cap he wore, gesturing toward the grave with his hand.

“Your aunt,” he clarified, dropping his hand so he could bring it up to take the lit cigarette from between his lips, “Died peaceful in her sleep. From what I’ve heard, anyway.”

You took in his appearance more so than his words for a few moments, a pair of icy blue eyes meeting your own with a stare that had always been so hard to read, his expression neutral and as equally indecipherable. It took a few moments for the surprise at his sudden appearance and for the years to catch up in your head, but you recognized him. It pulled a small, mildly amused huff from you, despite the situation.

“Well, that might be one of the few peaceful things that’s happened in her life,” you replied, shaking your head lightly. “Couldn’t let me have a day to settle in before showing up, Tommy?”

“I can’t resist a familiar face,” he replied somewhat flatly, yet you caught the touch of amusement that crossed his face. “Arthur’ll be knockin’ at your door once he knows you’re back. Always had somethin’ to say about your moving away before he got back from France.”

“...Good or bad?” you asked.

While you could say that you were closer to Arthur than Tommy while growing up, he did have a certain temper to him. That unpredictable nature had been fun and got you roped in a number of different situations the last time you were in Small Heath, you didn’t know how things were now. You had seen what the war did to certain men, too. You really didn’t know what was going to face you once you got settled into your aunt’s home.

“I’m sure you’ll know soon enough,” Tommy replied, the answer not exactly reassuring you but you’d handle it the best you could.

You just hoped maybe he’d let you have a night’s rest before you had to address all of that. Still, you let out a small sigh as you reached down to pick up your case, looking over your aunt’s grave for a few moments.

“I didn’t do it to spite him,” you said, glancing toward him, “I had an opportunity to leave and I took it.”

“I don’t hold that against you, it’s not my business,” Tommy said, turning aside to let you pass him as you finally stepped away from your aunt’s grave. “I am here about your aunt. Her name is in our books and has been for a while.”

“What for?” you asked, stopping in your tracks as you turned to look at him.

“Protection.”

You couldn’t help the way your brows furrowed, shaking your head lightly. “She…rarely left her home, let alone did anything that would require protection…”

“A lot of things have changed since you left,” Tommy replied, “Your aunt understood why she needed it, I wouldn’t question it.”

“I question a lot of things she did,” you replied with a small sigh, rubbing at your neck.

“Her last payment still stands, but once that runs out I would consider picking it up,” he said, finally moving to walk around you, “Just some advice. We were friends once, remember?”

“Yes, but if that gets dangled over my head enough times I may have to reconsider that,” you replied, catching the touch of a grin that crossed his expression before he turned around to walk away without a further word.

You watched him go for a few moments, biting the inside of your cheek before eventually starting to follow him out of the cemetery. Things had changed, you knew that. In what ways, you were quickly finding out. Yet, you couldn’t help the small pit in your stomach at what might be coming down the line. If Tommy would be right about the protection payments, you didn’t know, but the fact that your aunt of all people was giving money to the Peaky Blinders for safety was something she left out of her letters to you.

                                                          ***

The house was more or less a lot like how you remembered it.

Cramped, wallpaper peeling in some places, and the same water damage that had been there since you showed up at her door when you were thirteen. Yet, it was profoundly more empty. In feeling, at least. Some of your aunt’s items still remained, but it was clear that some of it had been cleaned up or cleared out. Still, for what some homes were like in Small Heath, it was decent. You could recall how often your aunt almost defended her home, that she worked hard to make it how it was. As a younger kid, that didn’t register much, yet you could appreciate it now.

Considering the places you might have been forced to sleep if she hadn’t given you the house, it was a relief.

Finding work again was going to be a question that’ll plague you, you just knew it. You knew how to work with your hands, sewing and the like, but also field work. The farm that had employed you last managed to hold on through the war, yet you saw that coming to a close long before it really did. Yet, that was…really all you knew how to do. You could stomach working outdoors more than you could sitting in a room with thread, the repetitive actions and pin pricks reminding you too much of your childhood. Way before Birmingham, at least.

Yet, it was becoming clearer that you really weren’t in much of a position to be picky. With only so much in your pocket to last you a couple weeks, you knew you didn’t want to wait until that ran out before you started to worry about money.

Not that your welcome back gave you much reassurance.

Though, just as the evening was dragging on into the night and when you thought Tommy’s prediction about his brother might be wrong, you caught a shadow cross by your kitchen window before there were a couple knocks on your door.

As much confidence as you tried to put forward, you couldn’t help but remain rooted to the spot for a few moments as you eyed the front door wearily. You knew these confrontations would have to come eventually, not just with Tommy and Arthur, yet somehow being snuck up on was easier to deal with than having to open the door for him. Plus, you had been closer to Arthur than Tommy the last time you saw him.

A part of you was…anxious to confront whatever changes might be there.

Still, you knew there was no point standing around and overthinking it. With a small sigh out of your nose, you crossed over toward the front hall and opened the door. As you suspected, Arthur Shelby stood there with somewhat raised eyebrows as the two of you seemed to take each other in for a moment. He’d aged, and you figured you had too, but he still looked enough like himself to put some relief in you. In that moment, anyway.

“I’m…I’m sorry if I don’t look as surprised as I should,” you said, deciding to be the one to break the silence, “Tommy warned me that you would show up.”

“So what he said about you bein’ back is true, then, eh?” Arthur asked, “Hearin’ it from you would’ve been nice.”

“I was getting around to it,” you said, having a hard time hiding the vaguely defensive tone that slipped into your voice, “I didn’t exactly expect both you and Tommy to show up today. Still…yes, I’m back. Whatever that means, I suppose. Do you want to come inside? I don’t exactly want to have this conversation at my door.”

Arthur wordlessly accepted your invitation, you stepping aside to let him pass before shutting the door. For first reunions, you had certainly seen happier, yet it could have been worse you supposed. Still, it was awkward, you gave him a bit of a wide berth as you moved around the side of your kitchen table. He seemed to be taking the house in for a few moments, despite having seen it a few times while you were growing up. And possibly later, if your aunt apparently paid the Peaky Blinders to watch out for her.

You watched as he lightly knocked his closed fist against the surface of the table, as if searching for something to say before he met your gaze.

“I’m sorry. About your aunt,” he said, “Happened very suddenly.”

“Yeah, natural causes. So I’ve been told,” you replied with a light nod, “Thank you. It is…different without her here.”

Arthur let out an understanding hum, letting that sit in silence for a few moments. You crossed your arms, leaning back against the sink.

“If you’re here to tell me about how things have changed, your brother got to that first,” you continued. “Including her payments.”

“Not the first time he’s done my work for me,” Arthur stated, the bitterness hard to miss as he shook his head, “Just wanted to make sure I heard him right.”

“...Missed you too, Arthur,” you muttered around a small huff.

“I’m not…mad ya left,” he said after a few moments, struggling to look at him but you could see the tension in his face, “Just…I got back and your aunt had this look on her face. A letter would’ve been nice, considerin’...”

You let that sit for a moment, a pit of guilt settling into your gut at the mention. It wasn’t like the decision hadn’t been without debate, your aunt pushing you to take the opportunity but to let him know so he didn’t come back to exactly what he came back to. Yet, you weren’t sure how to word that letter, or what exactly to say. You had been close, there’d been the odd insinuation, yet nothing was ever really said or solidified.

Still…

“I know. I should have wrote,” you replied with a soft nod, “I tried a couple of times, but I…I don’t know. I didn’t know what to say. I got to the new town and things picked up. I’m sorry.”

Arthur nodded, still not really meeting your gaze. You could see him turning that over, yet you didn’t want to push anything. It had been more than a couple years since you were last in Small Heath, let alone was in contact with Arthur or Tommy. You still didn’t really know how to approach the gap, if there was anything to bridge.

“I…” he started with another small sigh, before looking over at you finally, “I did miss ya, by the way. You’re back, so…I don’t know. Come by The Garrison, we can chat.”

“Yes, sure. I’d like that.”

With another nod and tight smile, Arthur said his goodbyes before leaving. You let out a slow breath once the front door shut behind him, pressing a hand over your eyes. It was hard to tell exactly…where you stood with anybody at the moment. Still, at least the sting of the initial reunions were over with–you hadn’t really talked yourself into believing they would be anything more than maybe bittersweet. Still, you supposed you were back. Time would tell where everything fell.

Still, the emptiness of your aunt’s home hit you stronger at the moment than when you had initially stepped through the door.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter Two: Miss Congeniality - Katsuko meets many residents of Azuchi... but not her fake fiance.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

A good General will ensure that his soldiers are provided with not only food, but also appropriate armor for upcoming battles. It would be illogical to send warriors onto the battlefield on an empty stomach, but even more so for them not to have protection from the weapons of enemy forces. The initial cost of armoring soldiers will be far repaid in ensuring safety (as much as possible given a situation of war) and loyalty.

Personal comments: Lady Mai requested permission to help “re-design” the Oda soldier uniforms. It is difficult to refuse Lady Mai anything, however such a decision rests in the hands of Lord Nobunaga and Lord Hideyoshi – neither of whom find it easy to refuse Lady Mai either. However, Lord Mitsuhide has stated he has another task for Lady Mai… This prompted Lord Hideyoshi to use more words I am not comfortable writing down.

Two days after leaving the mountains, I arrived at Azuchi Castle. Kyubei left me waiting near the gate, while he alerted Mitsuhide to our arrival. Though I’d previously spent a couple weeks in the castle town, I’d never been inside Azuchi castle itself and I was happy enough to have some time within the gates to look around. Up close, the tenshu was impressive building, rising from a thick stone base, up seven stories to tower over the hillside. There was even a balcony surrounding the uppermost floor, and I wondered if Nobunaga spent much time up there. Must be nice to be able to see the entire countryside from your bedroom.

Feeling slightly like a gawking tourist, I took a step backward to get a better look, and –

WHAM!

I’d backed right into the path of a young man who’d been on his way inside, his arms loaded full of books and papers. The resulting collision sent the books to the ground and the papers into the air--

Where they were caught in a gust of wind and went flying toward the gates.

“I’m so sorry!” I helped him chase after the errant papers. We (actually I) caught most of them, but one got stuck in a tree, entangled in a branch about three meters off the ground. Without letting go of his armload of retrieved papers and books, the man tried to climb the tree, and ended up nearly dropping everything again.

Not wanting to repeat the whole chasing down experience, I piled the books, scrolls, and odd scraps of paper back in his hands and pointed to the one in the tree. “Don’t move. I’ll get that one,” I told him, and scampered up to retrieve the page. I jumped down and gave him the paper, which he accepted with a quick bow. “I hope you’ll be able to put them all back in order.”

“There was no order to it – although… that would make it easier to keep track of it all, wouldn’t it?” He shuffled everything into an untidy bundle and tucked it all under his arm. “Thank you for your assistance, and my apologies for walking into you.”

Now that I was no longer scrambling after his paperwork, I finally was able to get a good look at him – messy dark grey hair falling into distracted violet eyes and a lovely, but unfocussed smile. I’ve seen him before! The clumsy bookworm… Mitsuyori? No… Mitsunari. Well, how could I forget the booksellers’ most loyal customer (who never actually bought anything)? Of course, since I couldn’t admit to spending time in Azuchi disguised as an elderly bookseller, I kept my expression neutral and pretended this was our first encounter.

“Actually, I think I walked into you. I was looking up at the tenshu. It’s spectacular.” I turned my face to the top of the castle once more.

He nodded, then smiled at me again, this time at least seeming to register my presence. “I remember how I felt when I first came here two years ag- Oh no! Why am I here?”

He stared hard at the castle, as if some stray thought was eluding him the way the papers had nearly eluded me. Since I doubted the question was either rhetorical or existential, I stayed quiet while he continued to gaze at the castle walls. “I didn’t mean to come here today; I’m supposed to be -” His expression changed to panic when the guard on the towers called out the change in vigil. “I’m late! Please accept my apology for running you over.”

“Of course, but it was my fau-” I stopped because he had already turned around and rushed down the hill.

Huh.

I watched him until he disappeared from view.

Sweet.

But… possibly not tethered to reality.

“Katsu!” Kyubei tapped my arm to catch my attention. “We’re to meet Lord Nobunaga in the tenshu.”

Dismissing the young man from my thoughts, I followed Kyubei up (and up, and up) to the top of the tenshu, where Oda Nobunaga was waiting for us in his rooms. Without prompting from Kyubei, I bowed low, aware that this was a formal audience, and possibly the first test of my manners.

In return, Nobunaga lightly dipped his head. When I finally rose and met his eyes, there was a hint of amusement in them. As it turned out, Nobunaga remembered ‘Katsu’ from our encounter in Osaka earlier this year.

“Fortune works in interesting ways, for you’ve ended up working for me after all, Katsu.” He lounged on a dias in an indolent pose, but there was an aura of kinetic energy around him that suggested he could go from restful to predator in an instant. “However- did you not say that you worked for a merchant who is like a father to you? Mitsuhide left me with the understanding that he was reaching out to a man who has some dealings in espionage.”

I bowed again. “Is a spy not a merchant of information?” Then, because he seemed to be in limbo between trust and distrust,” I added. “My business in Osaka the day we met was personal. I was not there spying for my master, and indeed my work for him generally only involves delivering messages. I didn’t tell him that we’d met.” I might have done so otherwise had not so many other things not occurred that day. In fact, I was flattered Nobunaga remembered me at all given that someone had tried to kill him that night.

While he seemed to think that over, I took in my surroundings. Like Aki’s office, there was a western influence in Nobunaga’s rooms, although the European objects (huh, he had even had what looked like a child’s stuffed bear mixed in there) displayed amongst Japanese works were displayed with more taste and flair. It was like the difference between walking into an episode of hoarders, versus walking into a museum. Then again, Azuchi castle had only been completed a couple years ago – Nobunaga likely hadn’t had enough time to accumulate the volume of tchotchkes that necessitates a once-a-decade konmarie purge.

Politeness required that I stay quiet until spoken to, and in any case additional exploration would have to wait, as a pair of voices approached. The combatants were arguing so loudly that I could hear them long before they appeared in the doorway.

“- this must be the most ridiculous scheme you’ve ever dreamed up,” said one man, sounding like he had had it up to here with the other person. “You have yet to convince me that you have any chance of success.”

“My dear Hideyoshi, you don’t need to be convinced. You only need to stay out of the way,” came the reply in a cool, mocking tone of voice, as a silver haired man came into the room. At his heels was this ‘Hideyoshi’ – yet another man I recognized from the booksellers. If I thought he had looked frazzled back then, it was nothing compared to him now. He had the look of a man who woke up every day to discover that imps had rearranged his furniture and placed his desk directly in the path of his shin. Then again, the other man had the look of a person who would indeed rearrange furniture; then stand by to watch the fun. So perhaps Hideyoshi came by his frazzle honestly.

Both stopped talking when they saw me standing there. Both subjected me to long, assessing stares. Ok guys, dial it back a notch… I’m not a used car you’re buying off the internet. “This is the young man you’re going to pass off as a Princess?” Hideyoshi crossed his arms and frowned as he turned to Nobunaga. “My lord, please, put a stop to this now. There are other ways we can handle this situation.”

Hm… should I feel insulted or complimented? While I was glad that my male disguise was so convincing, it was hurtful not to be deemed feminine enough to portray a girl. Although it was also possible that Hideyoshi was so against this plan that even someone like Miyahara Satoko would not be considered feminine enough.

Ignoring Hideyoshi, the other man (who I was certain had to be Mitsuhide) circled me, apparently mentally kicking my tires… and if he thinks he can open the hood and peek into the engine, my tires are going to kick him back. “I hate to admit you have a point. It may be impossible to turn this one into a convincing woman.”

I was seconds away from throwing myself a gender reveal party when I caught the teasing expression in Mitsuhide’s eyes. Ah ha ha… he knew I was female. This was a test. With an exaggerated eyelash flutter, I dropped into a graceful and dramatic bow, and said in my best boy-pretending-to-be-a-girl falsetto, “Why Lord Aketchi, that wasn’t what you said when you propositioned me in Kyoto last week.”

That earned me a smothered laugh from Kyubei and a long look from Mitsuhide. He turned to Nobunaga. “She’ll do.”

“Yes. I have prior acquaintance with Katsu and have judged him quick witted and resourceful. Your plan has merit.” Nobunaga didn’t exactly finish his statement with the words, ‘the great and powerful Oz has spoken,’ … but it was implied.

Hideyoshi stepped back as if he had been stung. I almost felt sorry for him, but my ego was still pouting from before.

I turned back to Nobunaga, figuring I’d better let him in on my current disguise. “Thank you. As it happens, I’m actually-”

“I’m sorry!” A pretty woman about my age hurried into the room. She was the epitome of femininity, even with (especially with?) a smear of rice flour across her face, and I wondered why she hadn’t been tapped to portray this Princess. “Masamune has been teaching me how to make dumplings.”

Nobunaga patted the cushion at his side. “Should I be jealous of the time you’re spending with the one-eyed dragon?” But his scolding was accompanied by a fond smile that transformed his fierce mien into something softer and more approachable.

The woman snuggled into his side with a smile. “Perhaps I am learning to cook something special for you.” He kissed her hand and for a moment the two of them might have been encased in their own personal bubble. I looked away, feeling like I was spying on a private moment.

Mitsuhide had no such restraint. “Mai, might I interest in you in a rather large sewing commission?”

She sat up straight and looked at him with excited interest. “Do tell.”

Hideyoshi gestured to me. “This is Katsu. Can you possibly-” he sighed. “Turn him into a girl?”

That earned me her intense scrutiny. She smiled. “You mean, back into a girl.”

I like her.

“Little Mouse, you’re always surprising me with your hidden depths.” Mitsuhide turned his attention to Kyubei. “Akihira determined that this person-.”

“Katsuko.” Kyubei supplied my true name. “She’s been my contact through Akihira for the past four years and I believe she is suitable for this task.”

“I trust your judgment.” Mitsuhide bowed respectfully to Kyubei. It was a bow of a friend to a friend, not a master to a servant, and my estimation of Mitsuhide rose slightly in due to the positive way he treated his subordinate.

“Now hold on!” Hideyoshi’s frown had intensified and his hair puffed out in kinetic disapproval. “The only reason I agreed to this in the first place was because you agreed to find a boy to play the princess… It’s too dangerous otherwise.” He directed his final objection to Mai, as if hoping for a female voice to help overrule Mitsuhide.

“I can handle myself in combat.” Well. I could defend myself, at least, then run like hell. I gave Hideyoshi my best scornful look. “If you’re not convinced, I can prove it in your dojo or on your archery grounds.” I could prove it here and now, but I sensed that Hideyoshi had a low tolerance for sharp objects too close to Nobunaga. Speaking of… he hadn’t said a word yet either for or against my participation. I glanced over to see if I could glean what he made of all this.

Although one of his hands was playing with Mai’s hair, he was obviously paying attention to and amused by the whole scene playing out before him. “No need for that, Katsuko. The task is to pretend to be the fiancée of one of Hideyoshi’s vassals. The only danger, and the only reason we hoped for a boy is that women have a habit of falling in love with him. Which would make our problem worse, not solve it.”

A boy might pose the same complications, but… details. “Why does he need a pretend fiancée?” If they had an incurable flirt on their hands, maybe they could just give him a good talking to?

“We’re,” Nobunaga gestured to himself, Hideyoshi, and Mai, “making a diplomatic visit to Kanamori Mozumi, a daimyo who has recently begun to mine silver in his territory, to discuss an alliance. As Genba castle is renowned for containing an expansive archive, I intend to bring our strategist along. However, Mozumi also has a seventeen-year-old daughter - Shohime, who visited here last summer, and … it appears our strategist left quite an impression on her.”

“According to my sources,” Mitsuhide added, “Mozumi has contracted a marriage between Shohime and a Daimyo from Tsuruga, and he would not be pleased if anything were to ruin his plans.”

“Understood. Tsuruga is on the coast, and Mozumi wants access to trade routes to export the silver to Korea and China. With income from the silver and alliance with you, Lord Nobunaga, Mozumi will triple his power and influence – as long as he can keep both the son-in-law and your alliance.” It also confirmed Aki’s take on the situation in Hida. Given the increasing demand for Japanese silver, and it was clear that Nobunaga would prefer to keep relations with Mozumi peaceful. Granted, with his armies and allies, he could also just take over Mozumi’s territory, but why waste the manpower and time if Mozumi was willing to treat with him?

My job, apparently, was to make sure that Hideyoshi’s vassal didn’t distract the Kanamori princess from her contracted fiancé.

“Yes, that’s an accurate summary of the issues involved.” Rather than sounding pleased at my knowledge, Hideyoshi continued to look skeptical. Maybe he wasn’t used to women having a grasp of politics?

“I get to make a wedding kimono?” Mai’s look of excitement could probably brighten a dark room.

“It won’t reach that point – Katsuko is simply a diversion. But...” Hideyoshi looked at me and heaved a pained sigh. “She needs clothing that would reflect positively on the Oda.”

She rubbed her hands together. “When do we start?” Ok, this girl really takes her sewing seriously.

Mitsuhide gestured toward the door. “Preferably last week, but since that’s not possible, now will be acceptable.”

Without another word, Mai jumped to her feet, grabbed my hand, and literally dragged me out before I realized I hadn’t even learned the name of my fake fiancée. I half turned back to ask, but Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide were already nose-to-nose in another argument. Eeek. Better to just let them wallow in their U.S.T.

Mai led me through the castle to a room filled with various fabrics, and what looked like multiple projects in progress. A couple nearly-finished kimonos were displayed on racks – lovely jewel-toned pieces with intricate patterns and embroidery. “Stand there, please.” She pointed to a box and took out a long string to measure me.

“Oh. Let me just get rid of-” I wiggled out of the leather corset-binder that was keeping me flat. “I won’t be sorry to put that away for a few weeks.”

“There’s got to be a better way.” Mai looked at the binder with disgust. The better way would have been my sports bra, but it died even before my still mourned hoodie. Unfortunately, it’s not like we had access to lycra here. “Do you have any preferences? Color? Style?” Mai went to a writing desk where there was a stack of paper and several different sized brushes.

Androgyny… but make it fashion.

“Something not terribly restrictive. And. Not pink.” I shot a look at a turquoise kimono on display – that one was more or less to my taste.

“I must overrule that.” Mitsuhide stood in the doorway flanked by Hideyoshi. Apparently, they kissed and made up. “Soft pastels – including pink.”

“Pink is certainly appropriate,” Hideyoshi agreed.

Great. Now they agree.

Mai quickly wrapped a yukata around me. She pointed to the men in the doorway. “Out!”

Right. I wasn’t very well dressed. It’s not that I have no modesty… more that neither of them were looking at me as if I were an object of desire, but rather a tool to be sharpened and polished. Ignoring her, Mitsuhide undid my braid.

He visibly flinched at my hair.

Hideyoshi actually recoiled.

Yeah, it’s not in any particular style and there are pieces that are much shorter than the rest, causing it to stick out in chunks everywhere.

“What happened? Were you in a fire?” Kyubei had joined us and looked at my hair with fascinated revulsion.

“Fume did it.” And then I tried to fix it with my dagger.

Hideyoshi turned to Mai. “We’re going to need more maids.”

Cue Jaws theme in head.

After that, the afternoon passed in a blur of discussions, haircut, fittings, hand cream, face cream, cream cream and…

Help, I’m trapped in a makeover montage!

By the end of the ordeal, I was buffed and shined and primped and folded, spindled and mutilated until I didn’t recognize my reflection in the mirror that Mai had unearthed. I’d taken on plenty of identities over the past seven years, but this one seemed even further away from Katsuko than my old man disguise.

Also… I had zero likelihood of being able to replicate this complicated hairstyle on my own.

Mai adjusted one of the folds on the kimono – one of her own that she was loaning to me until she and her team could finish my – for want of a better word- trousseau. Then she turned me around to face the men who were judging my transformation.

Category is: Sengoku Princess Excellence.

“I’m ashamed to admit I never realized you were a girl.” Kyubei bowed to the new me.

“Thank you.” That was a nice compliment on both levels. “I’m sorry I teased you about the mountain path.”

“An improvement.” Only the most charitable would call Mitsuhide’s expression a smile. Smirk. He smirked. “One would hope you can manage to also behave demurely and gracefully, Okatsu.”

‘Okatsu?’ Hm, alright. Disguises were always easier when I thought of myself as a new person. And ‘Katsuko,’ as Fume had stated repeatedly, was not a common name here. As for demure and graceful… well the first three responses I thought of were neither demure, nor graceful, so I settled for a faint smile, downcast eyes, and plans to get even with Mitsuhide later.

Apparently though, Mitsuhide’s not so subtle jab earned me sympathy points from Hideyoshi… which might have been his objective after all? If so, well played, sir. “You look lovely, Okatsu, and I am sure your manners are acceptable.”

There wasn’t much I could add to that, so I simply gave Hideyoshi another appropriately demure smile, while I crossed my fingers behind my back that I could remember everything about protocol that Aki had tried to teach me. When all else fails, smile and nod.

Anyway, I supposed I was ready to meet my so-called fiancé. Who was… where was he anyway? Maybe he was hiding? “Er, this man I’m pretending to be engaged to… he is ok with this, right?”

Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi looked at each other. Silently. Possibly communicating telepathically.

Well, that wasn’t a good sign.

“He does, at least know about this?” I had no doubts that I could squash the overtures of an unrepentant flirt, or, even have a bit of fun with one if I were in the right frame of mind – but it would be easier if he had at least agreed to this plan before I was foisted upon him.

“Did you?” Mitsuhide asked Hideyoshi.

“Of course I did!” In his annoyance Hideyoshi looked like a puffer fish, trying to make himself look bigger to broadcast his defense. “I informed him last night. I believe he heard me.” Then, more softly. “Hopefully, he’ll remember.”

After this ominous tidbit, Mitsuhide said with obviously false cheer, “Of course he will remember. I’m certain he’s looking forward to meeting Okatsu.”

The looks on everyone’s faces ranged from disbelief (Kyubei) to outright worry (Hideyoshi)… well, Mai, at least seemed convinced as she fanned her wet eyes and let out a happy sob. “I love weddings.”

Hm. Against all current evidence, I trusted Mitsuhide. Alright, I didn’t trust him specifically, but from everything Aki and Kyubei had ever told me about him, I trusted that Mitsuhide knew what he was doing. But I wasn’t sure that he cared as much about the people enmeshed in his schemes as he cared about the schemes themselves. Probably this plan would work, but it wasn’t likely to be easy.

But hopefully, a nice quiet meeting between myself and Faux Fiance would clear up any confusion and allow us to figure out how to play thi-

“Well, shall we join them in the meeting hall, where Masamune has prepared a meal in honor of your engagement celebration?” Mitsuhide bowed and gestured us to the door.

Celebration? Just how many people will be witnessing my first meeting with… and what the heck was this man’s name anyway?

@lorei-writes @lyds323 @bestbryn @katriniac @briars7

[galexystern]

call me

pairing; eddie munson/fem!reader

rating; t

warnings; dialogue-fic, swearing, pining, fluff, angst, dialogue-heavy fic, no use of y/n

word count; 8.5k

desc; you meet eddie just before he goes on tour. can you two survive the long-distance and his rising fame?

a/n; this is based on an idea i wanted to happen to me a couple days ago

read on ao3 / masterlist

Everything is going to (your very rushed, reorganized many times) plan when you get waylaid by merch.

It catches just the corner of your eye, and then it’s all you can think about. Of course you want a t-shirt from the tour, how could you forget that? You’d saved money especially for it.

So you divert your path and go to stand in front of the table. It’s not very busy, but there seem to be a lot of people manning it, six when you count. But only two are in the venue’s uniform, and the other four are in plain, rocker attire. You check your watch again—you’ve done it so many times today you almost don’t even register the numbers anymore—and realize it’s probably the opening act. They’ve almost certainly already played, since the main act must be coming on any minute. Your gaze darts over them—they’re cute, a little nerdy, but they look nice—before your anxiety reminds you how late it is and hones your stare in on the merch.

You’re taking up precious time debating when someone from behind the table calls out, “Hey! You need some help?”

You look down to meet the gaze of a boy about your age, with long, wavy black hair and eyes that look like your favorite kind of milk chocolate. He’s smiling, expectant, and you jerk when you realize you haven’t said anything back.

“Oh,” you rush to reply, “I’m just trying to decide between two shirts.”

“Which ones? Maybe we can help.” There’s a daring, mischievous look in his eye that makes you step forward and take up the challenge, despite never having done so before with anyone else.

“A and C.” You point to them.

All six people turn around to study them. A is a simple silver-on-black style of the band’s logo and the tour dates and cities on the back. C is a picture of the band from an album cover, also with the dates and cities on the back.

“Tough choice,” the metalhead—because he clearly is one, with his leather jacket, Dio denim vest, black skinny jeans, and chain belts—muses.

You hum and nod. “Hence the indecision.”

“I think I’ve seen more people buy the second one,” another boy from the opening band says, with red hair and an interesting distressed plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“Maisie, crunch the numbers, please,” a third member requests, with a cropped afro and his own worn leather jacket.

A venue employee takes a look at her clipboard, and you all wait anxiously as she tallies the sales. “A has sold the most,” she finally says.

The last boy from the band, with curly hair and an Iron Maiden shirt you like, rubs the shoulder of the second boy, who seems oddly sad by his prediction being wrong. The first boy, the metalhead, turns back to you. “Well, there you go,” he says with a flourish.

“I guess A it is then,” you reply.

“Wait,” he interrupts, making everyone pause. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

“What? It was one of the options I picked out.”

“Sure, but when it came down to it, you knew which one you wanted and that’s not it. Am I right?” He gazes at you, both cocky and nervous, if that’s possible.

You look back, wondering how he could tell, before answering, “You’re right.”

He claps his hands in triumph. “Knew it! Andy, will you please bag up shirt C for this lovely lady?”

You blush a little as the other venue employee glances at you. “Size?”

“Large, please.”

He nods and grabs the shirt, folding it nicely before putting it in a bag. “That it?” He’s set your shirt on the table by the register.

You nod but then the metalhead says, “Sure I can’t tempt you into buying one of our shirts?”

You look at the limited options for their band, apparently named Corroded Coffin. The style is cute and you like their logo, but like every other piece of merchandise at the table, it’s too expensive.

“Maybe if it was twenty dollars cheaper,” you joke as you give your hard-earned and specially saved cash to Andy. “Besides, I haven’t even heard y’all play. Can’t buy a shirt for a band I can’t sing along to.”

The metalhead’s brows furrow. “You didn’t hear us? We were pretty loud.”

You laugh. “I just got here. Today has been a shitshow.” Andy hands you your change and the bag.

“What happened?” This boy is asking like there’s not five other people around you and you’re not at a concert merch table, and you kinda like it.

“Work just kept going and going, every time I thought I’d get outta there at a decent time they kept adding things for me to do. And then the El stalled at one station for fifteen minutes, I was dying in the heat and humidity down there. Not to mention all the stairs I had to run up and down.” You’re rambling, but he’s nodding like he’s enraptured.

“Wow, that sucks. I’m sorry that happened.” His lip quirks up. “Though I’m more sorry you didn’t get to hear us play.”

You smile. “Do y’all have a record out? Maybe I can get it after my next paycheck.”

“Gareth,” he orders, and the plaid-vested boy hands him a record. The metalhead presents it to you. “Here. On the house.”

Your jaw drops a little. “What? I can’t take that.”

He laughs. “I think we’d all rather have more people hear our stuff than make money right now. Right, boys?” Gareth and the leather jacket boy nod, while Iron Maiden looks doubtful, until his band mates slap his shoulder and he nods too.

“Oh, well, thank you. That’s really nice of you.” You take the record from him and tuck it between your arms, cradling it like it’s precious.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he replies. “That’s Gareth, Grant, and Jeff.” They all wave and you smile. You’re not sure which is Grant and which is Jeff but you can learn. You give them your name as well. “Fitting,” Eddie says.

You cock your head in confusion.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He grins when your cheeks get redder.

“Thanks.” Your voice is barely there.

Then there’s a bunch of loud screaming and the starting of a rock song. You gasp. “I gotta go!”

You’re about to rush away when Eddie shouts, “Wait!” You stop and look back at him, face surely revealing your anxiety about getting inside. “Come with us,” he continues. You give him a suspicious expression, so he adds, “Backstage. You can watch from the best seat in the house. And you might be able to meet them.”

You gape at them for the second time in five minutes. “Are you serious?”

“Totally.” Eddie looks at his band, who all nod in agreement. “Come on.” They step out from the table and move towards a back door. You look at Andy and Maisie, clearly asking them if this is legit and you’re not about to be murdered, and they both smile and nod. Reassured, you run after the boys in a daze, entering a dark labyrinth of hallways.

“Which is it?” Eddie hisses.

“Third door,” someone answers, sounding annoyed, like they’ve had to do this many times today.

Eddie locates the right door and opens it, letting light spill into the corridor. You follow the boys through it and into the backstage area, which is much more normal and dirty than you’d expected. They lead you all the way to the wings of the stage, music getting louder with every step, until you’re looking right at the lead singer, bouncing around onstage. You stare in amazed shock, closer to your idols than you ever have been before.

“Pretty good, right?” Eddie murmurs from his spot beside you. You nod in disbelief.

It takes you until the end of the opening number to settle down, and then you’re engrossed in the music. You sing all the lyrics and dance to the beat, not a care in the world. This is better than your wildest dreams of how you thought tonight would pan out. Eddie stays next to you throughout the show, and you two sing and dance along together, having more fun than you thought possible. He’s adorable when he lets go, just enjoying himself, and your desire to kiss him grows as the night goes on.

You’re suddenly nervous when the band finishes before their encore, wondering if they’ll come to your side, but thankfully they go to the other one, and you don’t have to introduce yourself in the approximately two minutes before they go back on. But when the set’s really over, encore done, the band does head your way offstage. You stumble into Eddie, who grabs your upper arms so you don’t fall as the band members walk past you. You try not to stare like a crazy fan, but it’s a losing battle. At least none of them look at you.

When they’ve gone, you breathe deep. “Oh my god,” you whisper.

Eddie laughs in your ear, voice low and spine-tingling, and you realize you’re still in his space. You step forward, missing the warmth of his hands, and turn to him. He’s smiling like you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Have fun?”

“Oh my god,” you repeat at a normal tone, and he laughs again.

“Let’s go meet them!”

“Oh my god!" You say for a third time and Eddie snorts.

“You might want to remember some more words by the time we get in there,” he suggests. You nod and he takes you out of the wings and to the green room. He turns around before opening the door. “Lemme just make sure they’re cool with it. Can’t have them yelling at you, sweetheart, when it’d be my fault.”

You blush while you nod, too much happening to wrap your head around. He disappears inside and you try to calm down, get your composure back before meeting your favorite band.

Then the door is opening, and it’s like slow-motion as Monochrome is revealed.

It’s a little anti-climatic, to be honest, as the members are sitting around in a small, ordinary room that’s not even green. But they are all looking at you in interest. You glance at Eddie, who nods encouragingly, and step inside gingerly. “Hi,” you squeak out, immediately clearing your throat before giving your name. “I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for being a fan,” Connor, the lead singer and guitarist, says.

“And thanks for coming to the show,” Dan, the drummer, adds.

“I was really excited for it,” you reply.

Leon, the bassist, asks, “Did we play your favorite song? I love asking that question.”

You nod. “‘Rush’ is my favorite. I wasn’t sure you guys were gonna do it.”

Dan looks thoughtful. “It’s not one of our more popular tunes but we like it.” You smile at his smile.

“Obviously, me too,” you joke, and Dan laughs a little.

“You know, I wasn’t sure, so thanks for clearing that up,” he replies sarcastically, making you giggle.

The door closes loudly, startling everyone. You all look at Eddie, who seems sheepish enough. “Sorry,” he mutters, but there’s an edge to his tone that makes you think he doesn’t fully mean it.

“You want something to drink?” Dan asks.

“Oh, I don’t need anything.”

“Seriously, we’ve got plenty of stuff.” He stands and goes over to a mini-fridge tucked into a corner. He opens it and you see rows upon rows of cans, beer and seltzer and whatever else.

“Um, okay, maybe a beer?”

“PBR or Coors?”

You wrinkle your nose at the options, making everyone laugh. You redden as you answer, “PBR, I guess.”

“Lesser of two evils?” Leon teases. You nod while Dan grabs the can and opens it before handing it to you. You thank him and he winks.

“So how did you guys feel about the show?” Eddie asks, causing Dan to smoothly step away. You look at the metalhead and take a sip, noting his clenched jaw and balled fists. He seems to realize you’ve noticed and shoves his hands into his pockets.

You hide a smile against the lip of your can. Dan’s cute, and being a member of your favorite band gets him plenty of points, but he was never the one you had a crush on (that honor went to Leon) and he’s a bit too old for your liking. Eddie’s jealousy is flattering and entertaining, but ultimately unnecessary. He had you back when he read you like an open book about the shirt choices.

Connor smiles in response to Eddie’s question. “It was good. I think the crowd had a great time.”

“Shouldn’t we be asking our number one fan over here?” Dan says, turning to you with a playful smirk.

“It was amazing!” You gush, and the band chuckles. “You guys are so good live. You should do a live record.”

“Top secret,” Connor leans close and you look at him eagerly, “there’s one in the works.”

You squeal a little, beaming. “I can’t wait.”

“You’re cute, honey,” Dan says easily, with a grin that could make any other girl’s knees weak.

“Thanks!” You reply, trying to sound innocent and like there’s nothing to read into, because you definitely don’t want to read into it.  You glance at Eddie, and thankfully he can still read your mind, because he walks over to you after seeing your slightly panicked expression.

“We should let them rest. I’ll escort you out.”

You’re nodding halfway through, and walking ahead of him to the door. He opens it for you and you turn around to say goodbye to the band, complimenting them again and setting your mostly full beer on a random surface. Dan has a lightly disgruntled face, but waves with the rest of the band. You let out a breath when the door closes behind you and Eddie.

He places a hand on your shoulder gently. “You okay?”

You look at him, nodding. “Thank you. I know it’s probably not normal behavior but…”

“No need to explain. I can see when a girl’s creeped out by a guy. Happened to me plenty of times.”

You hope he’s joking but it seems like he’s not. You frown. “That can’t be true.”

He walks you down the hallway. “Believe me, sweetheart, it’s true.”

“But you’re so cute and nice and thoughtful,” you exclaim, face heating at your words.

But Eddie just smiles kindly, his own cheeks dusted with pink. “Thanks. Things were just different in high school.”

You hum in understanding. “High school sucks and girls are bitches. I’d know, I was one.”

Eddie looks at you with skepticism. “You? A bitchy girl in high school? Doubt it.”

“I may not have been a mean girl cheerleader but I hurt my share of feelings.”

“Who hasn’t? It’s a wonder we made it out alive with all those raging hormones.”

You laugh. “We were in the trenches, for sure.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you two head back into the darkened maze of back corridors. “What are you doing now?” He asks.

“I’m in school. I go to U of I Chicago.”

He whistles lowly. “Impressive.”

“Whatever.” But you’re blushing again, and hoping the low light is hiding it. “What about you? Did you go to school?”

He snorts. “Nice of you to think that. It took me three tries to graduate high school. The guys and I tore outta there and came here to pursue what we loved.”

“That’s admirable. It’s also sweet that you've known each other so long. And it paid off.”

“Yeah.” He says it like he still can’t believe it, which is adorable. “This is our first tour. We can’t wait to get on the road.”

Disappointment settles in when you realize this is the first date of the tour, and the rest are around the country. All you can do is nod in response, not even caring if he can’t see it. He rushes ahead to open the last door, and you walk out to where it all began: the merch table, which is now empty.

“Well,” you say heavily, “thank you so much for all this. It was so nice of you to do that for a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger. I know your name and what school you go to. We’re friends now.”

You giggle. “You make it sound so ominous, like you’re gonna kill me later.”

“I’m not gonna kill you.” He looks horrified at the way it sounds like he absolutely is, making you laugh more. “Promise! I won’t!”

“I believe you, Eddie.”

He sighs in relief. Then you’re staring at each other awkwardly.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Your mouth twists, not wanting to leave him yet.

“Yeah.” He sounds just as sad as you feel. “You think I could maybe get your number? Call you sometime?”

You brighten. “Yes! I’d love that.”

“Great! Here.” He pulls out a tiny notebook from his pocket, as well as a pen. He flips to a blank page and then gives it to you, and you write down your name, phone number, and a smiley face before handing it back. He glances down and grins at it. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too.” You give him an abrupt hug—you two fit together just right—and then walk away backwards. When you’re at the top of the stairs, you make a “call me” gesture and smile when he nods eagerly. You watch him until he disappears from view.

You sigh happily. You can worry about the sadness of never hearing from him tomorrow. Tonight, you’re going to replay the entire encounter and go to bed smiling.

;

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Eddie. From Corroded Coffin?"

"Oh my god, hi."

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I never thought you'd actually call me. You know, you're busy on tour and probably never get any time off. Plus, plenty of other fans to meet and woo."

"You're right, we are pretty busy and don't have much time off. But we're not being held hostage. Besides, all the fans weirdly just want to meet Monochrome. No idea why."

"That's bizarre. I always wanted to meet the opener and not the main act."

"Exactly, it's just not normal."

"But it's good otherwise?"

"Yeah! All our sets have been amazing. Speaking of which, have you listened to our record yet?"

"Yup, a couple times. I really like it."

"I knew you would. And we have another one coming out this Friday."

"No way! I'll have to go buy it after work that day."

"No need. If you'll tell me your address, I'll send you a free copy."

"You sure you don't want it just to murder me?"

"Scout's honor. Not sure how meaningful that is seeing as how I was not a boy scout, but all the same."

Laughing, you give him your dorm address.

"Thanks, sweetheart. We'll send it out ASAP."

"No rush, honestly. You're already being so kind by sending it for free."

"We'll charge the postage. Nah, we've got it covered. You only have to worry your pretty little self with listening to it."

"Promise I will. Thanks."

"No problem, princess."

"So where are y'all tonight?"

"Des Moines, Iowa."

"No wonder you called me. You were that bored."

"Honey, I've been wanting to call you since we met. Just had to work up the nerve. Wasn't sure if you'd remember me."

"Of course I remembered you. Haven't really stopped thinking about it, you know. You, I mean."

"That's really sweet, angel. Honestly, this tour would be a lot better if you were here. Living with six other boys is not a fun time, let me tell you. I thought I was messy, but I've got nothing on these guys."

"Maybe you can steal some stuff and sell it as payback."

"That's not a bad idea. Anyways, what are you doing?"

"Studying."

"Gross. I'm sorry."

"Ha ha. It's not too bad. Authors just put too much meaning into their books. I can't remember all of it."

"You've got this, sweetheart. If you can remember all of Monochrome's lyrics, you can remember this."

"But I like the lyrics a lot more than this."

"Lemme just go ask if they can write a song about whatever you need to memorize. That way it'll be both. I'm sure Dan would be on board."

"Are you jealous, Eddie...I just realized I don't know your last name."

"It's Munson. And no, I'm not jealous."

"Good. You don't need to be."

"That's good to know."

"I'm sure it is."

"Well, I gotta go, pretty girl. Can I call again sometime?"

"Yeah, you can call anytime."

"Okay, great, I will. Not at all hours of the night, but a normal time. And we can talk if you're free."

"That sounds good."

"Okay. I guess...good night then."

"G'night, Eddie."

;

"Hello?"

"Hey, angel."

"Hi, Eddie!"

"How are you?"

"I'm good. I got your package! Thank you for both the record and the shirt, I wasn't expecting it."

"No problem, sweetheart. How'd you like it?"

"It's so good. Been listening to it nonstop."

"Aw, thanks. We're proud of that one."

"You should be! Are you selling it with the other merch?"

"Yeah, we just got the copies yesterday and started selling them tonight. They didn't sell out but we sold some."

"That's good. Maybe you can tell them I think it's really good."

"'Hey, everyone, this girl I really like loves our new single so you should buy it too'?"

"Yeah, exactly. And I'll tell all my friends, 'Hey, a band with this boy I really like came out with a great single, listen to it'."

"Perfect, we'll make up a sign and everything."

"As you should. What city are you in now?"

"Phoenix, Arizona. It's hot as shit down here."

"I don't think I fully understand the tour map. What's next?"

"I think Las Vegas."

"Maybe y'all can detour and see the Grand Canyon on the way there."

"That'd be fun. I've never been out west before this trip."

"Me either. Send me some postcards."

"Maybe on our next tour you can come with and see them for yourself."

"Already planning the second tour, are we?"

"Nowhere to go but up, sweetheart."

"If you headline the next tour, who would you choose as opener?"

"I don't know, that's a good question. There's a couple bands we've played with in Chicago that would be options. I think we'd like it to be a local group."

"That'd be really sweet. Though maybe it could be not all guys this time?"

"Ugh, yes! I didn't know this was possible, but it's gotten worse here. Our bus smells like dirty socks and no one seems to mind or notice."

"Gross. I'm kinda glad I'm not on this tour with you."

"We'll have candles and air freshener ready for the next one."

"Think the candles might be a fire hazard, but it's a nice idea."

"Someone needs to have it."

"You having fun otherwise?"

"Yeah, we've been writing a lot while on the road. Come up with a couple new songs, stuff for our first album. We'll probably polish and record it when the tour's over."

"That's so exciting. Can't wait to hear it."

"Of course, you'll hear it before it comes out, so it'll be a little rough."

"Doesn't matter to me, just wanna hear it."

"You will, pretty girl. First one outside the band."

"What about your friends?"

"You think I'm gonna let those twerps hear the unfinished stuff so they can make fun of it? Nah, they'll get the finished product."

"That'd be mean of them."

"It's be good-natured but all the same. I don't wanna hear it. I only trust your critiques."

"What about like, producers and such?"

"Yeah, I guess I'll listen to them too."

"Probably a good idea."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Alright. What have you been up to?"

"Just school and work. It's definitely getting colder up here. All the leaves are changing and you can crunch them when you walk. And I'm excited to watch Halloween movies."

"Oh, man, I love scary movies. What's your favorite?"

"Probably The Shining. Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall are so good in it."

"A+ choice, honey. Mine's Poltergeist."

"Ooh, that freaked me out when I saw it. Haven't rewatched it since."

"Aw. Maybe we can watch it together. That way you can cower behind me if you want."

"I'd love that, as long as you don't laugh at me."

"I'd never laugh at you, angel."

"Good. You're not allowed."

"Oh, is that a new law?"

"Yes, they just passed it. The 'Can't Laugh at the Girl You Like' Act."

"Fitting name. Could be shorter."

"Well, I could've used my name but then it wouldn't apply to everyone and it really should."

"I'll be sure to let everyone know about the new amendment."

"Please do. We need to get the word out."

"Gotta go, princess. The boys wanna talk about a new song. Jeff says he has this amazing idea."

"Okay, let me know if it's any good. Call me later, handsome."

"I will, pretty girl."

;

"Eddie?"

"Hi, angel. Sorry I didn't call yesterday. We were up all night designing the cover for our album and we were dead on our feet all day. I crashed right after the show, didn't even watch Monochrome's set."

"No worries. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I got A's on all my finals!"

"Wow, congrats, honey! Knew you would."

"You always say that, but you can't see the future, Eds."

"Maybe not, but I know you're good at what you do."

"Just like you. I hear the new single is selling out everywhere."

"Yeah! Ever since they played 'Think About You' on the radio, they're going like hotcakes. And audiences seem to know the lyrics to it, they sing along when we play it."

"That's awesome. It has to sound so good onstage."

"It does. Is this what famous bands hear all the time? Because I get why they'd be into it."

"Don't forget us little people when you skyrocket to the top of the charts."

"I couldn't forget you, sweetheart."

"Good, because there was another law passed about it. The 'Don't Forget Where You Came From' bill."

"Is that right? It's a good thing I have a good memory."

"Very, otherwise you'd be arrested in no time."

"What are you doing, angel?"

"Finally just relaxing. I'm going to be chill all break, I swore that to myself."

"You deserve it. You've worked so hard all semester."

"Thank you. Though I wish I could see you."

"Me too. This tour feels like it's going on forever. Don't get me wrong, it's amazing and I love it, but it's kind of a lot. I wish I could just be there and take you to the movies or something."

"That'd be nice. Would that be our first date?"

"Nah, our first date was the concert. This would be our second."

"I see. Where are you, anyways?"

"Dallas."

"Wow, y'all really went north and then immediately back down south?"

"I guess so."

"I'm not sure whoever put this schedule together knew what they were doing. Like how—"

"Hey, angel, I'm sorry but I gotta go. The boys are demanding we go out to celebrate and refusing to leave without me."

"Oh, okay. Well, have a drink on me, I'm proud of y'all."

"Thanks, sweetheart. Talk to you soon."

"Bye, Eds."

;

"Hello?"

"Hey, princess."

"Eddie? Are you okay? I haven't heard from you in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, I know, we're fine. Everything's just been crazy since our single blew up. Now paparazzi are following us too and fans keep mobbing us at the merch table. We're thinking about just not doing that anymore."

"Wow, that's...cool. As long as y'all are safe."

"We are. Monochrome got more security for us now. I think they're a little upset we're getting so popular."

"Well, it is their tour, after all."

"Right, but we can't help it, you know? People like our stuff."

"Mhm."

"What are you doing?"

"Break ends in a week so I'm just getting everything ready for the spring semester. Also planning my birthday."

"Your birthday? When is it?"

"February 14th."

"Aw, you're a Valentine's baby?"

"Yeah, and I've never had a crush during it so I'm excited for this year."

"I'll be sure to call you, honey."

"Good. Um, are you gonna be calling less now? So I know."

"Possibly, not sure yet. It's a whirlwind over here."

"I bet. I'd just like to know so I don't plan for the calls anymore."

"I'll let you know ASAP, sweetheart."

"Thanks. So where are y'all?"

"Philly. We play New York tomorrow!"

"That's exciting."

"We've been waiting for it all trip. The set is gonna be electric."

"I hope so. Uh, Eddie?"

"One second, babe."

"Okay."

"Sorry about that. What's up?"

"Do you know what date you'll be back in Chicago?"

"I don't exactly know. Lemme get back to you on that too."

"Alright."

"Sorry to cut this short, doll, but I gotta run. Call you later."

"Bye—“

;

"Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

"Oh, hi, Eddie."

"How you doing?"

"Fine. How's the tour?"

"Amazing. Everyone loves us. We get mobbed just going to our hotel now. It's wild."

"Wow, that's crazy."

"I know."

"Where are you?"

"Boston."

"That's fun. I love Boston."

"Yeah, it's cool. Don't have much time for sightseeing."

"Ah."

"What are you up to?"

"School's been crazy, we just went in running apparently."

"Damn."

"Still planning my birthday. I'm gonna host a party, I think."

"That sucks."

"What?"

"Sorry, honey. That was directed at Grant. Birthday party, sounds fun."

"Yeah, you're still gonna call, right? Talk to my friends? They think I'm crazy and like, lying whenever I talk about you."

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll do that."

"Okay. You sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry."

"Alright."

"Gotta go, babe. See you."

"Okay—“

;

"Hello."

"Angel!"

"Eddie."

"Yeah, it's me!"

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little. But how are you?"

"What?"

"I asked how you were!"

"You wanna know how I am, Eddie?"

"Uh, yeah, that's why I asked."

"Okay, here's how I am: You missed my birthday."

"No, I didn't! I'm calling you now!"

"It's 3am on February 15th, Eddie. My birthday is over."

"It's close enough!"

"You had a full twenty-four hours in which you could call me and you couldn't manage it. So no, it's not close enough."

"Wait, are you upset?"

"No, I'm just peachy."

"Good—"

"Of course I'm upset, Eddie!"

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all you have to say?"

"Uh..."

"Look, I know we're not dating or anything, and you don't owe me anything. But I was so excited for you to call. I told all my friends they'd be able to talk to you and then you stood me up. You know how embarrassing that is? On both your birthday and Valentine's Day and in front of all your friends who don't believe you? They gave me pitying looks all night. I couldn't bear it."

"I'm sorry—“

"Yeah, right. I really liked you, too."

"I like you too—“

"Oh, give it up, Eddie. I know Corroded Coffin is huge now because of your big single. All the magazines can talk about is when you're coming out with your debut album. You're bigger than little old me now, and I get it. I just feel like a fool for thinking this could be different."

"It is! It is different!"

"Is it? Tell me how."

"..."

"This is how I see it. You liked me when we were on the same level. You called me every other day because you thought you couldn't do better. And now, with your song at the top of the charts and people mobbing you all the time, you've realized you can do way better than me. Pretty, skinny blondies are throwing themselves at your feet now, right? Girls with perfect teeth and perfect skin and perfect bodies and perfectly plastic personalities, and you have your pick of the litter. So you stop calling me so you can hang out with them instead."

"No! Well, kinda—"

"That's what I thought. I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I...I miss you."

"Eddie, do me a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me again."

;

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"Angel, it's me. Eddie. Will you pick up?"

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"It's Eddie again. Are you screening my calls? Can you answer so I can explain?"

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"Okay, you don't have to answer. I understand why you won't. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry. I should've called you on your actual birthday and I shouldn't have been drunk when I did it. I did really wanna talk to you and wish you a happy birthday, because you deserve it. I would've really liked talking with your friends too. You talked about them so much I feel like I know them already. I think I could've made them laugh��“

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"Wow, your voicemail time limit is short. Um, I'm sorry I stood you up and all your friends thought I was an asshole. I have been an asshole, I'll say that. I know I've been acting like one when we talk. Our calls have definitely been shorter lately, and I'm sorry for that. It's not that I didn't wanna talk to you, it's just been crazy here. That sounds like a lame excuse, but I barely have time to take a breath let alone do anything else—“

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"But I should've called and talked more. You're important to me and I still really like you. You were right, more fans have been coming up and weirdly propositioning us, but I don't want any of them, I swear. They can barely hold a conversation, and all I can think about is talking on the phone with you for hours, never running out of things to discuss. And I love all our inside jokes, like the new laws and talking about this weird schedule—"

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"I just wanna talk to you all the time. And I miss you a lot. I still wish you were here with us, and not just because boys are pigs. I wish I could kiss you. I lie in bed awake at night, regretting not kissing you the night we met. I wanna see your smile again, and hear your laugh. I wanna take you to the movies, sweetheart, and protect you if anything is too scary. And I wish I could hug you like all the time. Shit, I'm running out of time—“

"You've reached my voicemail. You know what to do!"

"This is the last one, I swear. I'm so, so sorry, angel. Will you please pick up so I can keep pleading my case?"

"Hi. I’m probably home. I’m just avoiding someone I don’t like. Leave me a message, and if I don’t call back, it’s you."

"Hi, sweetheart. Nice new greeting. I know you don't like me right now, and I know you're still screening my calls, but I like hearing your voice. I miss talking to you so much. We're in Toronto tonight. The boys and I didn't know we had to have passports for Canada so management had to work overtime to get us some. They're not fans of us right now, but they got it done. I'm not my biggest fan right now either. I'm sorry again. I miss you."

"Hi. I’m probably home. I’m just avoiding someone I don’t like. Leave me a message, and if I don’t call back, it’s you."

"Hey, angel. The tour's almost over, last show tomorrow in Indianapolis. It's really close to my hometown and I'm not loving it. All my friends and family have moved out of town so there's nothing left there for me, just bad memories. I really wish you were here with me. I'd tell you all about it so I'm not the only one holding them anymore. Not that I want to give you the burden too, but so you could be closer to me. I miss you tons."

"Hi. I’m probably home. I’m just avoiding someone I don’t like. Leave me a message, and if I don’t call back, it’s you."

"Princess, the tour is officially over. I'd love to say I'm coming home, but management is flying us out to L.A. to record our album. I don't know why we can't just do it in Chicago, but it's not up to me. L.A. freaks me out. Famous people are so weird and no one has anything behind their eyes. I wish I could see your face, you're so beautiful to look at. I can always see the gears turning in your head. I always want to know what you're thinking."

"Hi. I’m probably home. I’m just avoiding someone I don’t like. Leave me a message, and if I don’t call back, it’s you."

"Honey, this whole process is a nightmare. Everyone is so up our asses to get this done when we told them we weren't ready. I wanted to come home and play these songs for you, if you'd hear them, and keep workshopping. Now it just sounds unfinished. I'm not sure what to do. I wish I could talk to you. You always have the best solutions. Maybe they'd pass a law for it. The 'Don't Pressure Your Band' Act. But I'd bet you'd have a better name for it."

"Hi. I’m probably home. I’m just avoiding someone I don’t like. Leave me a message, and if I don’t call back, it’s you."

"The album is done, sweetheart, and it's shit. They pushed us too much and it sounds terrible. We heard the final cut and refused to let them release it, demanding that they let us take a break and then come back to fix it. Our new agent is a real bulldog, and she scared them into accepting. Plus, I have a song I've been thinking about that I wanna add. I hope you're doing okay and midterms went well. I know you aced them. Miss you like crazy."

"Hi. I’m probably home. I’m just avoiding someone I don’t like. Leave me a message, and if I don’t call back, it’s you."

"Angel, this is a warning. God, that sounded bad. I just wanted to let you know that we have a single coming out next week and it's about you. It's all good, I swear, but so you're not blindsided. We fixed the album and added this song, and the studio loved it so much they made it an immediate single, which is a nice feeling, I guess. All I hope is that you'll listen to it and give it a try. Give me another try. I probably don't deserve it but I'll do anything."

"Hi. Now you say something."

"New greeting, that's promising. I hope you liked the single, pretty girl. I meant every word of it. I miss you so much it's nuts. Life is so boring without you in it. Our album comes out in a few days. They're throwing this big release party but I'm not excited. If you're not gonna be there in a gorgeous dress, making fun of all the rich people with me, what's the point? I hope you're kicking ass on all your assignments. Miss you."

"Hi. Now you say something."

"Hey, angel. Party went okay. I left early. I hear sales are doing well, but I don't really care about them. I'm just sitting in this hotel room wishing you were here with me. I miss you so much. Do you think about me as much as I think about you? I can only hope so. I'm sorry for everything."

"Hi. Now you say something."

"Alright, sweetheart. I can take a hint. This will be my last voicemail. I just wanted to let you know that we're coming home tomorrow. I cannot wait to be back in Chicago. And even if you never talk to me again, I know I'll feel better just being in the same city as you. I hope you ace your finals, because I know you will. Have a great summer, angel. Do you remember when we used to write H.A.G.S. in our yearbooks as shorthand for that—Hello?"

"Hi, Eddie."

;

There’s a knock on the door. You stare at it for a few seconds, and then take a deep breath and open it. On the other side is Eddie Munson.

His hair is different. Still long, but with a more flattering cut, and you can see his pretty brown eyes now. He looks mostly the same otherwise, besides the bags under his eyes and worn-out and exhausted expression. You feel a pang. All that shit he went through in L.A. obviously took its toll.

His gaze roves over you like he can’t get enough. “Hey, angel,” he breathes reverently, like you’re actually angelic.

“Hi, Eds.” You step out of the way and gesture for him to come in. He walks inside, stopping and shifting nervously in the small space. You close the door and turn to face him.

You can tell he’s itching to explore but he keeps his attention on you. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

You bob your head. “Get here okay?”

“Yeah, no fans or reporters in sight.” He sounds relieved by the statement.

“Leave it to your hometown to remind you that you aren’t special.”

He exhales a small laugh. “For sure.”

“You need something to drink?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanna talk to you.”

“Okay.” You bring him into your room and shut that door as well. You sit on your bed and look at him expectantly.

He’s looking around your room in interest, but remembers his goal pretty quickly. He sits next to you. “How have you been?”

“Good. Got mostly A’s and one B on my finals. Picking up more shifts at work now that it’s summer.”

“That’s awesome. I always knew you’d do well on them.”

You smile a little. He did.

He takes a deep breath. “Princess, I’m really sorry for my behavior this past year. I took you for granted and I shouldn’t have, it wasn’t right. Not to sound cliché but the fame went to my head a little. Growing up in a small town where everybody hates you and thinks you’re a freak doesn’t prepare you for a lot of attention on you. It was nice in the spotlight for a while, until I realized I was losing myself, not to mention you. You gave me a wake-up call, sweetheart, one I really needed, and I thank you for that. You brought me back down to earth.

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry your friends think you’re crazy for saying we know each other. I’m sorry for acting like a douchebag on the phone near the end there. I’m sorry I didn’t spend enough time talking with you. I’m sorry I didn’t consider your feelings.

“I wish I could go back and do so many things over. I’d kiss you that night at the first concert. I’d take a picture of you and keep it in my guitar case. I’d beg you to come on tour with us. But I can’t turn back time, so all I can say is that I never want to hurt you like that again and I promise to try not to. I can’t promise I won't because it’s impossible, but I want you to know I’m going to work really hard to prevent it. If you give me another chance.

“I missed you so much this whole time. I felt like I was going crazy when I couldn’t talk to you. It didn’t feel like anything mattered if you weren’t there to enjoy it with me. I’m not trying to guilt-trip you or anything. Honestly, the world was just duller when you weren’t in it. You brighten everything up, honey. I hope I can brighten things for you again.”

You sit with his words for a while, long enough that he starts fidgeting nervously next to you. When you feel like responding, you say, “Thank you for the voicemails.”

There’s surprise on his face when you look at him. “Um, you’re welcome, angel. I felt like I had to keep talking to you.”

“I’m glad.” To your mild horror, the words catch in your throat and tears start to threaten to fall. Eddie can tell and tentatively grabs your hand. You gaze at him, vision getting blurry. “I missed you too.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, and pulls you forward. You bury your face in his chest, relishing in the smell of his body wash and cigarettes and faint thread of weed. You cry against him, tears and snot soaking into his shirt, but he doesn’t move away, just cups the back of your head sweetly. “I’m sorry. Honey, I’m so sorry.”

You keep going until you’re all cried out, sniffling and wiping your face in embarrassment. But when you look at him, he’s smiling kindly, no judgement in his expression. “Will you kiss me now?” You ask wetly, feeling like it’s way overdue and the only thing you want to happen right now.

“Absolutely,” he murmurs. He holds your face in his hands like you’re precious, and leans forward slowly until your lips finally touch. It’s light and chaste, but it’s also warm and soft, and it feels right. When he breaks away, he looks at you like you saved his life (and maybe you did). “Wow.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, definitely feeling what he’s feeling. “We should’ve done that ages ago.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” he replies and you laugh. “And now I’m gonna have a hard time not doing it.”

“Well, you can do it whenever you want by my account.”

He lights up. “That means we’re okay? We can start up again?”

“You think I’d let you kiss me if we weren’t?” He chuckles at your expression.

“Maybe you were just trying it out. Seeing if it was worth it,” he says.

“Hm,” you feign thinking about it and he knocks his shoulder into yours. You grin. “I think it is.”

“Good.” And with that, he kisses you again.

When you part, you’re laying on the bed together, you resting on his chest while he rubs your back. “I’m sorry L.A. was shit,” you murmur, tracing the designs on his shirt with your fingers.

He hums. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s like, a rite of passage for bands to go through something like that.”

“Doesn’t mean you should’ve.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Maybe they should make a new law about it.”

“The ‘Leave New Bands Alone’ bill.”

“Exactly. Told you you’d come up with a better name than me.”

You snort. “Can’t say that’s better but it’s certainly another option.”

“So, angel, what’s the plan for summer?”

“You tell me. All I’ve got going on is work.”

“Well, management wants to send us on another tour for our album, but we negotiated that we need the summer off. Apparently sales are doing so well that they don’t mind.”

“Then it seems you have a completely free summer.”

“From work, sure. But I have a lot of dates to make up for.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, with this girl I really like. Her kisses make me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

“She sounds great.”

“She is. Actually, she’s pretty fantastic.”

You smile as he lifts your chin gently and kisses you again.

;

“Hello?”

“Hi, Eds.”

“Angel! Are you finally here?”

“Yeah. I still can't believe you flew me out here. First class was too much. And this hotel room is super nice.”

“I know, right? Only the best for my girl.”

“I know you didn’t book this, babe.”

“You don’t know if I demanded the best of the best because my amazing girlfriend is gonna be visiting me a lot.”

“I guess I don’t but I seriously doubt it.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know. All settled in?”

“Yup. Plus, I wore your shirt so free publicity."

"What would we do without you?"

"Perish, I guess. Are y’all gonna be done soon? I’m starving.”

“Soon, baby. Sound check just finished and we’re packing up now. Should be there in the next fifteen. Is it cool if Carly comes along?”

“Of course! I'm so glad you picked her as your opener, she's so good."

"She's better than another pack of dudes, that's for sure. And she's so nice."

"I know, I love her."

"More than me?"

"Obviously not, but don't tell her. I can’t wait to see you.”

“You too, beautiful. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s very possible. They actually just passed a law about it. The ‘Your Girlfriend Missed You More Than You Missed Her’ Act.”

“Is that so? Well, I heard they passed another new law, the ‘Your Boyfriend Loves You More Than You Love Him’ bill."

“Damn, I gotta work on getting them to repeal that, because if they don’t I’m going away for a long time.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll protect you.”

“Good. Speaking of which, we gotta watch some Halloween movies this weekend.”

“Totally down for that. Ready for that Poltergeist rewatch with me?”

“Why did you think I segued from you protecting me to scary movies?”

“Duh, stupid of me, honey.”

“It’s alright, my love. We’ll work on that.”

“Wow, you’re so good to me.”

“I only give what I get, baby.”

“Ugh, I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“Me too. I also can’t wait for you to kiss me.”

“You’re gonna get so many kisses, angel, the band’s gonna hate us.”

“Good thing they have a separate room.”

“Bold of you to think I’ll stop kissing you when we’re out of the room.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a tabloid cover if it’s headlined ‘Rockstar Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin goes in heavy on the PDA with hometown girlfriend’.”

“How do you come up with all these good lines?”

“I don’t know, it’s a gift.”

“Well, you are gifted, baby. Hey, we’re all packed up and heading out now. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay! Just hurry or I might fall asleep on this plush bed.”

“That won’t stop me from kissing all over your face.”

“Oh, good, then.”

“Okay, the boys are fake-gagging at me for that last line.”

“They’re just jealous.”

“You’re telling me. I’m gonna hang up now, okay? Can’t wait to see you, angel. I love you.”

“Me either, baby. Love you.”

[darlingyougotthis]

I Got You Darlin’

I Got You Darlin’

Elvis Presley x Reader

(Part 1) 

Priscilla is not included in this story. I appreciate how important she is in Elvis’ life but for the purposes of this story I will not be including her. Also, I will be referring to some of the scenes from Baz Luhrmann’ Elvis movie. This is for purposes of the storyline and for context.

2.1K word count

International Hotel – 1970

You sat quietly on the sofa listening intently to Elvis as he played ‘If I Can Dream’ on the piano. His experienced fingers danced along the keys so effortlessly, producing a sound that, accompanied with his sultry southern voice could only be described as heavenly. You closed your eyes and leaned back into the luxurious beige sofa and allowed yourself to be consumed in the moment; as moments like this with Elvis were rare. He always had an entourage surrounding him, whether it be members of his Memphis Mafia or a group of excited fans wanting to meet their idol. It was not so often that you got time with Elvis completely alone, so when you did, you savoured it. When Elvis got you alone, he had a way of making you feel like the most important person; because to him, you were the most important person. He had been smitten with you since your first meeting. You smiled as you thought back to the first time you met Elvis, and how he changed your life forever.

It was 1954, in the local diner in Memphis were you waitressed. You had been serving an elderly couple a few tables over when he heard it. Your laugh. It was sweet and almost innocent sounding but it caught his attention and caused him to look your way. You were having a conversation with the couple and he observed how you held you self with gracefulness and a gentleness about you as you interacted with the elderly pair. Elvis watched as you nodded your head and smiled throughout the conversation truly engrossed in what the couple had been saying to you. He could not hear what was being said but he certainly heard the laugh that escaped your lips once more. He took in how you looked in your uniform, the pale-yellow dress with the white apron that was tied around your waist hugged your body so perfectly and cascaded down your body to sit mid-thigh. His eyes drifted back up to your face and he managed to catch a glimpse of your smile and he decided right there and then that he needed to know more about you. He kept his gaze on you until- “Hey. Hey. EP! You okay man?” George asked him, snapping him out of his trance. Elvis simply nodded and gave you one last look before joining the conversation with his friends, giving you the occasional glance.

“And I’ve loved him ever since.” The lady, whose name you had learned was Grace, told you with a bright smile as her husband whose name was Gerald reached out and took hold of her hand smiling also. You responded with a light laugh and said “I hope to have a love as pure as you both one day.” “Oh, my dear. You will. One day you will meet a man who will sweep you off your feet.” You let out a light giggle and replied “I truly hope so,” with a smile. But little did you know that man was merely a few feet away. You said goodbye to the lovely couple before returning to the counter. You passed a group of boys seated in one of the booths on your travels and called to them, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” “No worries, honey. Take your time.” One called back to you. You placed the money in the register then made your way over the to the booth, lifting your notepad from the pocket of you apron. “Hey boys, what can I get you?” One by one they told you their order until you reached the last person, he sat on the left side of the booth closet to you. He was already looking up at you when you looked at him, his eyes, the bluest you had ever seen, pulled you in instantly and he offered you a smile that caused your heart to miss a beat and butterflies appear in your stomach. “I’ll have a hamburger and fries with a cola, please sweetheart.” You nodded and wrote it down. You lifted your eyes one more time to find him still looking at you. You took a moment to really look at him. His dark hair, his lips, his slim yet muscular build; this man was the definition of perfection. You pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and gave him a small smile before walking over to the counter. Once you got there, you let out the breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding. Who is this guy? And why does he have such an effect on me?

Once you had walked away Elvis returned his eyes to his friends, who all looked at him with smirks plastered on their faces. “What? Why y’all looking at me like that?” he questioned with knowing smirk on his lips. “You know why EP. She’s real cute by the way.” George said, wiggling his eyebrows. Elvis shook his head and looked down with a smile, “Yeah, that she is,” he muttered. “Then go talk to her, she’s right over there.” Elvis’ head snapped up to look at George then over his shoulder to see standing behind the counter. He thought for a minute before clearing his throat, stood up and ran his hand over his hair before making his way over to you. He could hear his friends not so quietly cheering him on, he shook his head and turned to face them whilst giving them a stare that silently told them stop and they did but each let out a small chuckle. Elvis turned back around made his way to you.

You took a deep breath and let it go in order to centre yourself and moved to the back of the counter to retrieve the drinks you required. You bent down to the fridge and grabbed the bottles of Cola that the boys had ordered and placed them on a tray. You turned around with the tray in hand only to see the same blue-eyed boy from before. You jumped slightly but it was enough to cause the bottles to fall, luckily the boy reached out and caught two of them and placed them back on the tray. “Sorry, there darlin. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He told you with a smirk. You blushed and said “It’s alright. I just didn’t expect you to be there. These are yours; I was just about bring them over,” and as you went to round the counter the blue-eyed boy quickly spoke, “No need honey, I got’em.” He reached over and took the bottles with a wink. You felt the heat rise in cheeks as you offered him a smile which he returned before moving his gaze from your eyes down to your chest. You followed his gaze that had landed on your name tag. He grinned as he read your name aloud, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” You let out a giggle and pushed the loose piece of hair behind your ear that had fallen yet again, bringing your eyes up to look at the boy. He gave you another wink and held up the bottles “Thank you, Sweetheart,” and headed back towards the booth to his awaiting friends. “Wait!” you called and he turned back around, “You know my name, but I don’t know yours…” you spoke with a smirk as you leaned on the counter. He chuckled and bit his bottom lip looking you in the eye, and replied with a smirk “Elvis.” He didn’t give the chance to saying else as he turned and walked back to his friends. You watched as he sat the bottles on the table; sending you one more glance accompanied with a smile before taking his seat.

This would be just be the beginning of your relationship with Elvis. It started as conversations in the diner, that he became a frequent visitor too. He’d wait for you to finish your shift so that he could walk you home. You two started spending more time together and your feeling grew for each other and eventually Elvis asked you to be his girlfriend. People soon learned that you were Elvis’s and he was yours.

He met your family and you met his. Your dad being an army man, was sceptical of Elvis at first but grew to like him. You worried about meeting his mother for the first time as you knew how close Elvis was to her and how protective she was of him. Elvis assured you that you had nothing to worry about and he was right. Gladys could see how much her son adored you so she did too. You became the daughter she never had.

During this time, Elvis had also started to get noticed for his music; producing a few songs with Sun Records that became a hit on the radio and being invited to play on the Louisiana Hayride. All of this led Elvis to meeting Colonel Parker, aka The Snowman. The man offered Elvis a chance to travel in a 21-day, 20 town tour with Hank Snow with a chance play in the show. At first, Gladys was reluctant to let Elvis go, as were you but you understood that this was something Elvis really wanted to do and with a little persuasion Gladys agreed.

“I’ll call you every day.” “You promise?” “I promise, Baby.” You looked up at him with watery eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck as his wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. You hid your face in his neck and let out a small cry. “Hey. Hey. There will be none of that, Baby.” He lifted a hand to your chin and moved your face he could look at you. His heart broke as he saw the tears falling down your face. You let out another cry and said barely audible, “I’m going to miss you so much Elvis.” He moved his fingers from your chin to your cheeks and wiped away the tears. “I’m goin’ miss you too, Honey. But I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured you. You nodded and took a deep breath and gave him a small smile through the tears that continued to fall. He wrapped his arms back around you pulling you in until you were flush against his chest. He held on to you so tightly you though you might break, but not for a second did you want him to let go. You felt him move his head so that his lips were right next your ear and he whispered the three word that made all the heartache of his leaving vanish, “I love you.” He brought his hand up to move your hair behind you ear and whispered it again as his fingers left your hair and trailed down you neck, “I love you.” His hand rested back on your hip as you lifted your head to look into the blue eyes that you fell into that day in the diner. You stood up on your tip toes, bringing your lips inches from his but not touching and whispered, “I love you.” You saw him lick his lip, his tongue merely missing you lips as he did, “Say it again, Baby,” he said with a smirk. “I love you, Elvis Aaron Presley.” Elvis let out a light chuckle before closing the gap between you, placing his lips on yours. You had kissed Elvis many times before, but this time it was different. This kiss was full of love and passion. His grip on your waist tightened and you ran your fingers through his hair. You wanted to stay in this moment forever. However, you were both interrupted but the blast of a car horn and a shout from Scotty, “Come on EP, we gotta get goin’!” Elvis groaned as he pulled away from your lips but kept his hold on you. “I’ll see you soon, Sweetheart.” You nodded at him giving him one last kiss. He let go of you and walked towards the car and got in. You felt your heart drop as the engine started and once again the tears fell. Gladys walked over to you and took you in her arms. Elvis saw this and sent you both a smile and mouthed ‘I love you’ before the car took off, taking Elvis on the adventure that would change his life and everyone lives around him forever.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

The Handsome Stranger (1/3)

Ship: David x Buck Snowe

Word Count: 783

Summary: How David and Buck "met," though it's not necessarily the first time. David suggests Buck should go out on the town with him, and Buck, despite knowing nothing about him- not even his name -obliges. Is it David's natural charm, or is it vampiric in nature? Who's to say. CWs for stalking mentions/implications.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

“There’s that guy again,” Buck mentioned to his coworker as they left the food court. She followed his gaze to a pale man clad in all-black, from his boots to his sunglasses. The neon lights made a kaleidoscope of his frosty-blonde mullet as he leaned casually against a column, looking away from them.

“Who, the one dressed in a leather jacket in the middle of the Santa Carla summer?” Gina asked. He nodded.

“He’s come into the shop a couple of times… never buys anything, though.”

“Maybe he’s stalking you. Only a crazy person would wear that many layers in 90° weather.”

Buck laughed and gently smacked her arm. “Not so loud, he might hear you!” He shook his head as they returned to the second-hand clothing store where they worked. “I don’t think he’s crazy. Maybe he’s just lonely.”

“So, what does he do when he’s in here if he’s not buying anything?”

Buck went to stand at the cash register and Gina began sorting through items that needed to be hung up. “We’ve talked a little, and sometimes he just looks around…”

“He’s probably planning to shoplift.”

“Oh please, who shoplifts from a thrift store? He’s been nothing but polite to me.”

Gina looked up with a grin. “Maybe he’s got a crush on you.”

Buck blushed and scoffed. “No…”

“Wait, think about it! He’s only coming in to talk to you. I’ve never seen him around, he’s probably working up the courage to ask you out, get to know you better. Obviously he doesn’t want to interrupt you at work but he doesn’t know where else you hang out!” She trailed off into a giggle behind her hand.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, if he doesn’t have a crush on you, then you must be the one with the crush, based on that hot pink glow in your cheeks.”

Buck placed his hands on his cheeks, feeling the heat in them. “So he’s a good-looking guy! Doesn’t mean I want anything more than to admire him from a safe distance.”

Gina laughed again and wandered into the dressing rooms, leaving Buck alone. He sighed and rested his elbows on the counter, hanging his head and lacing his fingers over the back of his neck. The speakers overhead played a familiar tune.

You keep saying you’ve got something for me… Something you call love, but confess…

You’ve been a-messin’ where you shouldn’t have been a-messin’… Now someone new is gettin’ all your best…

“These boots are made for walkin’, that’s just what they’ll do…” Buck muttered, lifting his head and brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.” A familiar, low voice responded. Buck straightened up, taking in the mysterious man as he approached. He didn’t want to admit his charming smile made him weak in the knees.

“Hi,” Buck greeted shyly.

“Hi. Are you doing anything after work?”

Buck’s jaw hung open slightly before he quickly closed it, raising a brow. “Oh-uh- nothing, I-I don’t have any plans currently.” He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Why do you want to know, stranger?”

The man lowered his sunglasses, revealing sparkling blue eyes. “I’d like to take you out tonight, of course.”

Buck leaned back, a surprised expression still plastered on his warm face as he looked the man up and down. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Well, if you’d care to accept my offer, you’ll learn it eventually. When do you get off your shift?”

“... You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

He pushed his glasses back up, sucking his teeth. “I suppose I can’t say I didn’t try… I really thought we had something going here, chickadee.” He turned and started walking back toward the store’s entrance. Buck softly scoffed. This mother…

“I get off at four.”

The man paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Well alright. I’ll be waiting for you out back.” He whistled as he walked away. Buck shoved his fingers under his glasses, pressing them into his eyes.

“Oh my God…” He then jumped when Gina popped back into the room.

“I knew it! Look at you, acting like a silly little schoolboy around him!” She teased.

“Jesus, Gina,” he lightly chastised. “Don’t eavesdrop on my conversations.”

“I wasn’t trying to, these walls aren’t exactly made of metal, you know.” She then gasped. “We can’t have you going on a date in your uniform, c’mon, let’s find you something class to wear…!” She grabbed his hand and began leading him out of the store.

“Gina, we can’t leave, we just finished our lunch break! And it’s not a date!”

“It so obviously is!!”

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 84

All colour drained from her face and she sat there looking all lost, “Harp? Do you want to talk to him..” Jared’s voice barely registered in her head, my own father, the root of all evil in my life wants to see me? She nervously bit her paint stained nail. “She’ll call you back, Arno..ok talk to you later” Jared disconnected the call and looked at the trembling, nailbiting other half of his heart. “Babe..” his hand reached over the table “calm down, he’s awake and doing a lot better..” his long fingers caressed her cheek to get her attention, her eyes predicted a hurricane connecting with his. “I can’t do it, Jay..I can’t..it’s not..why? should I?..I don’t know..” she puffed out the words, Jared pushed a strand of her long hair behind her ear “I’m not the one who can or should decided that for you..I’m just as torn about this as you are” he sighed. “Oh great, pffff” she nervously rolled her eyes, “I just can’t make that decision for you, you’re the only one who can truly feel and know all the abuse and grief that man has given you, nobody else..does he even deserve a visit from you? My first reaction would be, hell no, he sure doesn’t deserve you and his talk seemed very cheap over the years, but on the other hand what if he has seen the light and the conversation will be beneficial for you and might chase away some of those ghosts that you dragged along with you all this time?..I really can’t make that decision for you, Coco”. She shuffled back and forth on her chair, he had never seen her so agitated, so restless, all this time the decision had been made for her, her father had made the decision to keep her far away, cutting her off financially and emotionally, depriving her of money, depriving her of her title linked to her last name. And now he pulled the strings a little tighter in the other direction, there was so much doubt, that man either lived up to his title as a diplomat or he was pure evil, one way or the other it was working what he was trying to do.

‘No, you’re right, you can’t possibly make that decision for me..I’m gonna ignore him, enough is enough, can we just go..I need a bit of fresh air” she sighed yet again, already pushing back her chair.

The drive back home was a silent one, her own silence even continued well into the late evening, all day she had been sulking around the house, only to hide in the garden watching the sunset, but her phone wasn’t, this had been the tenth call on her phone that he had let go to voicemail. He grabbed her phone and walked out into the garden where her untouched plate of food of this afternoon was still standing next to her. “Please call your brother, he’s been blowing up your phone all day” he handed her the phone but she looked at it like it was an alien “your phone, you know, that device where you can communicate with people from a distance”. She rolled her eyes “you don’t have to be all sarcastic about it, ” and pouting she took the phone from him, twirling it round and round between two fingers, “I’m not, babe, really I do understand how tough this decision is for you” he ruffled his fingers through her hair and sat down on the sunbed with her “but you’re gonna have to whether you want to or not”.

Harper let her head fall back against the cushion “what about you? What have you been up to all day?” she needed to talk about something else for a change, “the tour, we’re kicking off the last leg in Sydney, Australie soon” he softly said, somehow it hit her hard, in all this turmoil of indecisiveness she felt like she was gonna need him to be with her. Don’t be so goddamn selfish Coco, you brought this all to yourself, you’re not 10 anymore, you’re a grown up who dares to talk to a couple of parents right? Right! “I’ve been so self-absorbed lately that I completely forgot about that, when are you leaving?”, her question struck him, ‘when are YOU leaving?’ not ‘when are WE leaving’? she must have had decided then. “In a couple of days” he bit his lip, what? A few days? He would be gone again in a few days? Stop being so selfish! “oh ok..” she really tried to sound not disappointed “I’ll go call Arno, and you mister, need to go pack your bags, is it winter or summer now over there? Summer, right? Well, make sure to pack your shorts and flipflops then, ok, I’ll go call him”.

By the time she got back inside, the whole house was dark, she quickly looked at the time, it was almost 1AM, with a heavy heart and equally heavy legs she walked up the stairs, here goes nothing..

Warm breath, and her luscious warm body sliding up to his back woke him from his restless slumber, “hey” he rolled over to push a kiss on her lips “so I guess you decided then” he found himself bracing a little. “Yep..I’m going to probably regret this, but I’m going back there and see what he has to say, I don’t want to live with this huge cloud over my head any longer” she sighed, even in the dark he could see her overtaken by emotion, he brushed his lips against the salty tear that trickled down her cheek “I believe it’s the smartest decision, when do you fly over there?” his stomach was in knots, but he had to respect her decision. “Tomorrow..please come with me?” she whispered in his ear while tightening her grip on him, please say yes, please, please, please, I don’t want to go over there on my own, but with the nervous biting of his lip she already had her answer “we’re leaving the day after tomorrow, babe..I’ve got a lot to do still” he hated his touringschedule, he hated himself, he could clearly see the disappointment on her beautiful features.

“I know..no it’s alright, I understand..” she forced a smile and put her head in that wonderful nook of his shoulder, how long would it be until they would see each other again, none of them knew and it didn’t make things easier, “just promise you’ll fly to Australia as soon as you can?! I really want to sign up for the long run with you..” Jared didn’t want to think about being apart again, they had been for too many times and for far too long. “Promise me, Harper..” he quickly said as he didn’t get an immediate reply, “I promise, of course, as soon as we’re done there, I’ll come and see you” she didn’t know when or what but she wanted to make him that promise because she needed a goal to keep her going during the much dreaded upcoming talks. “That’s all I needed to know” he pushed himself up on an elbow and leaned in for a scorching kiss that started hours of passionate lovemaking all through the night.

[nightmaresart]

ᐯᑌᒪᑎEᖇᗩᗷᒪE

Another MagicWeaver fanfic because I love them sm, they're on my mind 24/7

Triggers⚠️

Mentions of blood, slight panic attack, googled Polish🇵🇱

Word count: 2,5k

It's not proofread and English is not my first language, all mistakes are my own

Waiting for the ship to land, a couple of people were standing on the landing site, for the team that had been sent on this mission to show their faces. Niran Pruksamanee was one of them, he mainly wanted to check for injuries and get the latest updates on everything. As the ship opened its door after it had landed safely, someone quickly rushed out, seemingly panicking. Niran managed to get a glimpse of who it was, Aleksander. 

Pushing through the few people that were waiting, Aleksander ignored everyone who even dared to call out his name. He needed to clear his head from everything that had gone wrong during the mission. He had lost control again over his magic and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Aleksander never knows what is happening when he is no longer in control, all he knows is that people have most likely gotten hurt because of him. He needs to get away from people before something goes wrong again. Rushing through the door of his room and locking it behind him, Aleksander fell to the floor, clawing at his armor and throwing it in the corner once he'd gotten it off him. His boots and his eyepatch got the same treatment before the man pulled his knees up to his chest and pushed his palms into his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose Aleksander did not feel any better. He sees glimpses of what had happened when he lost his cool, and like he suspected earlier, people had in fact gotten hurt. 

Running around the base, Niran is looking for Dr.Novak, asking anyone who he came across if they had seen the man. Almost all of them told him no, they had not seen the man, until he asked an older member of overwatch, Agent Zero, “I’ve seen him rush to his room, seems to me he is not doing well, best you take it easy with him Niran,” and with that Niran thanked her and made his way to the mage’s room. 

Uncurling himself and getting up from his position on the floor, Aleksander slowly made his way to the bathroom, deciding that splashing some water on his face may do the trick in making him feel better. Letting the water run over his hands, they slowly began to tremble but ignoring this Aleksander splashes his face a couple of times before turning the water off. Gripping the sink with a deathlike grip he looks at his reflection in the mirror. A tired man stares right back at him, his hair is a mess and there are eye bags clearly visible. Scowling at what he sees, Aleksander straightens his posture, letting his hands wander to his hair and pulling it out of the messed up bun. His breathing becomes more labored the longer he stares at his reflection. What previously was panic has now become anger, anger directed at himself for losing control like that. 

In a blink of an eye he had smashed the mirror into pieces, not even registering the pain that shot through his hand nor the blood that was now covering some shards of the mirror. Letting out an angry shout, Aleksander walked back to the room with an ugly expression on his features. He begins pacing around while running his non-bloody hand through his hair, even gripping the sandblond locks. Being so caught up in his own thoughts and anger Aleks barely registered the knocking on his door, but he did hear it and he wanted to shout at the person to leave him the fuck alone. 

“Sasha?,” 

That voice, that nickname, why did it have to be Bua of all people. Aleksander stopped in his tracks, he wanted to scream at the other man, tell him to leave him alone. But he didn’t, dropping his hands beside his body, his shoulders sagged. 

“Will you let me in please? I want to check on you,”

Blinking away the tears that swelled in his eyes, Aleksander took a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak, “Leave Bua, go away,” 

“No, not until you let me see you,”

“Go away!”

“Sasha-”

Walking up to the door, Aleksander glared at it, getting tired of this back and forth, “Odejdź” He spat out the word like it was venom, hoping that it would make it clear that he did not want to be seen like this. 

Niran sighs as he hears the word being spat at him, it is never good news whenever Aleksander will switch to his native tongue. This only made the white haired man more determined to get in the room and help the mage. “Nothing you say will change my mind Sasha, i just want to help you,” hearing nothing but silence for a minute, Niran was about to walk away until he heard the door being unlocked. Straightening his posture he looks at the disheveled man in the doorway. Before Niran could ask if he could come in, Aleksander already moved to pull Niran inside and closed the door behind them. 

Looking around the room Niran’s eyes landed on the armor, boots and the eyepatch that Aleksander had thrown in a corner, sighing softly he now understood why the other was so determined to keep everyone out. Turning around to face the man Niran noticed just how exhausted he looked, he also noticed the bleeding hand and he immediately reached for it. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself?” He was met with silence so Niran just assumed that is exactly what had happened. Taking Aleksander to his bathroom, Niran’s eyes fell on the broken mirror and the dots started to connect, but he didn’t comment on it. He simply sat Aleksander down on the edge of the bathtub and began rummaging through the cabinet for some bandages. 

Aleksander slowly began to feel the pain register, he was too caught up in his anger to notice before. The bleeding hand began to tremble as he tried to take deep breaths through his nose, he felt pathetic and he certainly did not like Niran seeing him like this. Getting lost in his thoughts, Aleksander didn’t even notice that Niran had crouched down in front of him with the bandages and spray in hand. He only snapped out his destructive train of thoughts when the other man gently took his hand and put the spray on it. Wincing at the stinging feeling Aleksander fought the urge to pull his hand away. 

“Sorry,” Niran whispers, almost afraid to break the silence that had settled over them. Putting the spray aside when he was sure he had cleaned all wounds, Niran slowly began wrapping the bandages around Aleksander’s hand with gentle fingers. 

Fidgeting with the fingers of his non-injured hand, Aleksander took this calm moment to look at Niran. He has always thought that the man in front of him was pretty, gorgeous even, but it was rare to be the center of his concern. Keeping an eye on Niran, Aleksander felt his heartbeat quicken, heat rise to his face and his previously destructive thoughts stop completely. He knew he should feel scared of these feelings, he has always been scared of developing them in the first place, but this felt nice. It felt good even. Watching the man rise back to his feet after he was done with wrapping Aleksander’s hand, he looks at the hand that Niran was offering him to help him back to his feet. Taking it the two walked back to the room. 

“Want to tell me what happened to cause all of this?” Niran knew the reason already, the others had told him what had happened but he wanted to hear it from Aleksander himself. Hoping to get a better understanding of this complex being in front of him. 

Averting his gaze, Aleksander sat down on his bed. He wanted to tell Niran what happened, he really did, but he was afraid of the judgment that might come with telling it. 

Sitting down next to the other man, Niran patiently waited for Aleksander to tell him. Raising his hand to tuck a piece of the sandblond locks behind the other’s ear, looking as the blue eye looked around the room. 

"Przepraszam,” Aleksander sighed, finally making eye contact with Niran, “I lost control over my magic… People got hurt,” He whispers, it still haunts him that whenever he is no longer in control bad things happen. “I never wanted it to happen, yet it did-” A warm and soft hand took Aleksander’s own and at that moment everything spilled from his lips, from the moment he had felt the control slip, to the glimpses he saw of what happened during it and the panic that filled his body when he regained consciousness. 

Niran listened to everything that Aleksander told him, not judging the man like Aleksander had thought he would’ve, but nodding and gently squeezing his hand. He felt safe, like he could tell Niran anything and the man wouldn’t hold it against him like so many others had done in the past. Taking a deep breath Aleksander stopped his rambling, squeezing Niran’s hand back he felt all sorts of emotion bubble to the surface. Including the feelings he had for the other man, the feelings he so desperately tried to bury and ignore. But he didn’t want to ignore them anymore, Niran might turn him down, not return Aleksander’s own feelings, but that would be alright, he would get over the rejection. 

Taking the silence of Aleksander as a sign he was done talking, Niran nodded slowly, not sure if anything that he might say would help, but he still felt the need to break the silence. “I’m certain that with time this will no longer happen, that you will be in full control at all times, Sasha,” Niran had seen the power the other holds, it would take time to be in proper control of it all, “But you will not have to do it on your own,” He offered a faint smile to Aleksander and snorted softly in light amusement when Aleksander averted his gaze again. It was almost adorable.

Fighting the urge to scoff at the snort he heard from Niran, Aleksander couldn’t help but feel the heat return to his face, “Thank you,” he whispered, returning his gaze to the one of Niran, not being able to help the faintest smile forming on his face. 

“Thank you for allowing me to help,” Niran whispered back before laughing when Aleksander dropped his hand and lightly shoved the taller man off his bed, covering his face so he avoided getting smacked by a pillow. He sometimes forgets just how easily Aleksander can get flustered like that. 

“Stop laughing!”

“Then stop trying to smack me!” 

Dropping the pillow he was holding back on the bed, Aleksander stood over Niran, which was a mistake because now the man on the floor could pull him down. Bracing for impact, Aleksander made a face at Niran, “Why did you do that?”

Shrugging from his position on the floor, “Now we’re even!” He still had a bright expression on his face, the tension from earlier now clearly broken by the two fooling around. Rolling on his side so that he could face the mage, Niran once again tucked the sandblond locks behind the other’s ear, “Hey,”

Rolling his eye Aleksander couldn’t help but smile, he had to admit that the idiocy of Niran was rubbing off on him, “Hey,” the man said back to him, letting his eye roam Niran’s face for the who knows how many time, “Can i tell you something?” Aleksander needed to get it off his chest now, he needed to tell Niran how he felt about him. 

Raising his brows, Niran adjusted his position, “Of course, you can tell me anything,” He thought it would be another bad thing that Aleksander had gone through, or something terrible he had witnessed that he wanted to get off his chest.

A deep breath, his eyes closed for a little while Aleksander was trying to find the right words. Once he found them he nodded and opened his eyes again, looking at the concerned face of Niran, “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” seeing relief wash over the features of the other man, Aleksander fought the urge to snort in amusement. Taking another deep breath Aleksander let it spill from his lips, “When I'm with you I feel like myself.  I feel like every side of me is present and accepted.  and I feel good about it—  I feel good about who I am when I'm with you,” 

Was Aleksander confessing his feelings? His feelings for Niran? Niran felt his breath catch in his throat, he felt his heart speed up, heat rise to his face. He knew he was staring at the other with wide eyes, happiness washed over him and a big smile made its way onto his face. 

“It’s okay if you don’t–” before Aleksander could finish his sentence Niran had grabbed his face and peppered it with kisses. Oh. OH. His heart skipped a beat as he genuinely laughed for the first time in months. 

Pulling back, Niran had a grin from ear to ear, “Of course I return them Sasha, I was afraid I might never get the chance to act on them,” running his fingers across Aleksander’s face the two layed there on the floor for a minute, or maybe longer, neither of them was paying attention to the time anyway. 

After a while Aleksander got antsy, “As much as I would like to have you do that,” gesturing to the calm tracing of the other’s fingers, “I would prefer to get off the ground,” Aleksander shot Niran an awkward smile, the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to be.

Processing what Aleksander had just said, Niran sprung into action, quickly getting up himself before helping Aleksander off the floor. Holding the mage’s hand, Niran brought it up to his lips and gave it a kiss, “Better?”

Chuckling at the gesture Aleksander nodded, “Much,” cupping Niran’s face for a brief moment, Aleksander turned to look at the mess he had made in the bathroom and made an uncomfortable face. “Suppose I’ll have to explain what happened to the mirror,” Dropping his hands to his sides he then made an apologetic face at Niran, “I’m sorry for cutting this short, But–”

“But you need to clean yourself up and look presentable before you inform Winston about the mirror?” Niran finished the sentence for him and normally it would annoy the absolute shit out of Aleksander, but now it was appreciated. Aleksander nodded, “Tak,” 

Leaning forward to press another kiss on Aleksander’s face, Niran understood the need for privacy, “When you’ve done all that, come look for me,” making his way to the door Niran opened it and turned to face Aleksander, “See you in a bit my mage,” 

Smiling softly, Aleksander made a sound of approval, “I’ll see you soon then, Bua,” nodding the other goodbye he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Aleksander felt like things would go better from now on. 

[prairiesongserial]

20.1

Cody was sick. His stomach rolled with the steady motion of the ship; no matter how big and fancy the thing was, apparently there was nothing the captain could do to mitigate the effects of the waves rocking it about. The glittering lounge felt too hot, with twenty-some people clustered inside. Beads of sweat rolled down from the nape of Cody’s neck to below the stiff, pressed collar of his shirt. 

There were a couple of different card games going at the tables, but a number of passengers had arranged their chairs into a circle in the center of the room for drinks and conversation. Friday was perched on an armchair in the middle of the party, telling a raunchy joke, but Cody couldn’t follow it. Not just because of the seasickness–there was an inner circle and an outer circle on the Demeter, and he was on the outside, standing ready with the other valets to pour more tea or refill a plate with cucumber sandwiches and cake. Cody had never heard of a cucumber sandwich before. He assumed by the face John had pulled after biting into one that he wouldn’t have liked it much.

“-and he says, ‘Oh, you mean my wife?’” Friday capped off her joke to full-throated laughter and scattered applause. The sunlight pouring through the windows caught on pearly-white teeth and jewelry heavy with gemstones, bracelets and earrings probably worth more than the ransom on Cody’s head. 

Val and John were the only ones not laughing. Val smiled thinly, politely, playing the part of a husband suffering a joke his wife had told a hundred times. John didn’t even bother to smile. He caught Cody looking at him, frowned slightly, and looked away. Cody looked away too, embarrassed, fighting down the bile rising in his throat.

“Seasick?” someone asked. It took Cody a moment to register that he was being spoken to directly; no one on the ship had done that yet.

“I’m alright,” he said. The social hierarchy here dictated that he reply, but he didn’t feel like discussing his current struggle to keep down his lunch with a stranger.

“You’re practically green.” 

The speaker was a man seated on the outskirts of the inner circle. He sat at an otherwise unpopular table, close enough to hear the conversation, far enough away that he didn’t invite small talk. He was a little taller than Friday, dressed in an elaborately patterned shirt and white, wide-legged pants, coiffed black hair curling down over one eye. His feet were propped up on the table he sat at, and he was drinking a cup of tea with the saucer resting on his knees. That, and the boyish lopsidedness to his smile, made Cody more inclined to like him.

“I’ve never been on a boat this big,” Cody admitted. One of the other party-goers had started telling a joke to follow Friday’s, so he barely had to lower his voice to keep from being overheard. “I didn’t know how sick it’d make me.”

“Happens to everyone. Well, mostly everyone,” the man said. He had an accent Cody couldn’t place. A lot of the guests on the ship did. It reminded him of Marc Waters’s accent, but it wasn’t quite the same. “You want a sip of my tea? It’s ginger. Settles the stomach.”

Cody was sure that a valet being seen drinking from a passenger’s teacup would be scandalous. He was so nauseous he almost didn’t care.

“I’ll ask around the kitchen for some later,” he forced himself to say.

“Ask for green apples, too,” the man suggested. “Good for seasickness. Most ships keep them onboard. You’re here with the surly one, non?”

Cody almost smiled. “Which surly one?”

“The blonde.”

“John Graves,” he said. The fact that they were using their real names on the ship, relying on expensive costumes and a prayer to sneak their way aboard, was absurd. But Judith’s associate at the docks had promised them that no one aboard the Demeter would recognize them–this was a class of people Cody had never encountered before. Even if they’d ever seen a ransom poster, none of them would care enough to hand anyone over to Hemisphere. Why turn the ship all the way around and go back to America for such a pittance of a reward?

“I’m his valet,” Cody added, as if the man hadn’t already assumed. The cuffs of his sleeves suddenly felt too tight around his wrists. 

He’d offered to take this role to spare John from having to play-act the part of a manservant. They’d been limited by the outfits and room assignments Judith’s associate had been able to arrange for them at the last minute: a man and his valet, a husband and wife. Val and Friday had taken husband and wife, which had seemed obvious at the time, though Cody had since gotten the sense that Val had changed his mind about volunteering himself and Friday for the double cabin. Or had changed his mind about everything they were doing, more broadly. Val had been silent and haunted since they’d left Maine; there was a part of him still back at that barricade, looking for Johannes.

“What’s your name, valet of John Graves?” the man asked Cody, drawing him back to the present. The others in the inner circle were laughing again. Cody hadn’t even caught the punchline to the joke.

“Cody.”

“Enchanté, Cody,” the man said. He stuck out the hand not holding his teacup. His nails were finely manicured and filed down to the quick, polished black. “Je suis Sacha Fortune.”

He looked almost expectant, like his name was one Cody should have recognized. It wasn’t.

“Okay,” Cody said. “Nice to meet you, Sacha.”

“Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Sacha said. He hadn’t yet taken a sip of his tea, though the cup was still dangling from his fingers. Maybe it had gotten cold.

“Sacha!” one of the women in the crowd around Friday and Val called. She was dressed much more practically, almost like one of the valets, without the bright makeup or jewelry of the people who surrounded her. “C’mere and hear this one. You’ll laugh yourself sick.”

Sacha smiled again, the expression a little more wan than before, and hopped to his feet. He was made shorter by a slouch when he stood, hands jammed into the pockets of his pants once he had dispatched his teacup and saucer to the table.

“I think that’s my cue,” he told Cody. “Ask the kitchen about the apples.”

Cody nodded as another wave of nausea rolled through him, the ship still steadily rocking underfoot. His face felt hot. He wondered if Sacha had a valet who would clean up the cup and saucer after him, but none of the valets in the outer circle had stepped forward. Sacha hadn’t even mentioned having a valet of his own.

“Cody,” John said, from behind him.

Cody turned, doing everything he could to stop from swaying unsteadily on his feet. He didn’t like feeling this off-balance, but he also refused to lean on John for stability, so he was stuck standing still and alone. His face probably betrayed how bad he felt. John’s face betrayed a lot, too–he was frowning bemusedly, his eyes rapidly filling with concern the longer he and Cody stared at each other.

“I’m fine,” Cody muttered, because he could see the question in John’s face. “Just need to ask around for some apples.”

John frowned deeper. “Apples?”

“For my stomach. Are we leaving?”

“Yes,” John said, and didn’t elaborate. Cody got the idea that John had simply had his fill of taking tea in a bright room full of loud people. Fair enough.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Val and Friday coming?”

“No,” John said, and shook his head. He started walking out of the lounge without any of the social pleasantries that were probably expected of him; Cody followed without being told or gestured for. “Friday’s making friends.”

“Flirting, you mean.”

“A little.” John jerked his chin slightly towards the woman who had called Sacha over. She was leaning familiarly on Friday’s shoulder, still laughing. “The first mate likes her.”

“Great. Just what we need,” Cody sighed, exhaling enough air to blow a stray piece of hair from his face. He felt better as soon as they’d passed through the lounge’s side doors and onto the deck of the ship. “Isn’t she supposed to be married?”

John was quiet for a long moment as they walked down the deck, breathing in the sharp stink of salt that came off the ocean. Then, he said, “Not happily.”

It was the first joke Cody had laughed at all day.

Previously on Book 2 || 20.2

[antvnger]

Blood Brothers AU - Tony Discovers Ant-Man

((Oooh this is a good one, Anon! Thank you! I’ve been wanting to get back into the AU, and this was a good prompt. Thank you for it!))

Scott Stark’s release from prison was plastered all over the media.

From the WHIH Exclusive to Scott actually walking out of San Quentin, it was all over the place.

At least to Scott it felt that way.

And it felt the same way to Tony. His poor kid brother, hasn’t he gone through enough?

The media liked taking his story and pulling it apart to serve whatever purpose they wanted, whether it was for or against Scott, it didn’t really matter.

On the day Scott was released, there was so much media coverage that San Quentin had to do some crowd control just so Scott could leave.

Thankfully, Luis’s van was so opposite to what the public expected a Stark - even a Stark like Scott who didn’t really care about the flashy, extravagant stuff - to ride in that no one really noticed that he did leave until it was too late.

After that, Tony tried to get in contact with Scott, but there were a couple of problems involved with that.

His little brother had no phone and no current address.

Maggie, still working through her own grievances about Scott’s arrest and the divorce, did help Tony by telling him that Scott had crashed at his cellmate’s place and he would have better luck looking there.

But there was a problem with that too.

Luis said he hadn’t seen Scott in a while. He did tell Tony about the job and old man have safe and why Scott wanted to take the job in the first place, but Luis hadn’t seen him since after they left empty handed.

Scott Stark had gone completely off the grid.

And that worried Tony to no end.

Where the hell did his baby brother go????

Tony’s at the Avengers compound and contemplating going to some extreme measures to look for Scott and make sure he’s safe when JARVIS informs him there’s an intruder on the premises and the Falcon was in pursuit.

“Sir, the intruder seems to be an individual who can manipulate his size.”

“Well, that’s new.”

Then after a beat…“Sir, I really think you should take a look at this.”

“Kinda busy, J. Looking for Scotty, remember?”

“SIR…you really need to see this. It appears Scott is the intruder.”

 And of course, Tony is like what????

He has JARVIS pull up the security feed to find Scott and Sam standing on the roof talking.

Sure enough, there he is. Plain as day, looking no worse for wear and in a really cool suit.

Scott can grow and shrink? And fight? And grow and shrink??

Since when? What in the world is going on?

Tony is too engrossed in the whole fight and the fact that that is his little brother fighting the Falcon - and apologizing multiple times over it too - that it never registers that Tony should suit up and go out there and intervene.

Nor does it register (yet) that Scott is there to retrieve something either

But by the time he finally overcomes his trance and thinks to get out there, Scott’s gone and the fight is over.

After it registers why Scott was there, Tony does some looking in that storage unit to find there’s a lot of old Stark Industries stuff from when Grandpa Howard was in charge and some old SHIELD stuff too.

Wait…didn’t the Stark boys’ dad say something about how Grandpa Howard knew a guy at SHIELD working on trying to create that kind of technology way back in the day?

That’s when Tony does some intense digging into old SHIELD files.

It takes longer than he anticipated, but low and behold what does he find? Dr. Henry (Hank) Pym. And where does he live and where is his company located? San Francisco.

How about that.

[aspacetobe]

What is love? the romantic type of love, that is. What is it?

i’ve never experienced it before. even though i thought i did. twice. thought it was once. experienced a second. realized the first was not love at all. a half a dozen of years post the second, i realized the second wasn’t love either.

that was at the end of last year. when it finally registered that both of those relationships were weirdly mildly emotionally abusive. i think it’s when you finally have love for yourself that you know what love truly is.

but romantic love, what is it?

i’m sitting in a random park in Copenhagen. the second random park of the day for me.

it’s 6pm. the sun is still bright. like a 3pm in summer in los angeles. just without the heat. there’s a couple next to me. they’re playing coldplay very softly on their bluetooth speaker.

that’s something about Copenhagen. it’s quiet. it’s soft.

i noticed people can hear my soft spoken voice easily. i don’t have to “yell” which is my experience everywhere i go. especially at home. and i do feel like i’m yelling when to others i’m just speaking up, speaking louder.

but here, i speak softly. even softer than usual and people hear me. and understand me. it’s amazing.

i’m heard. and i don’t have to project my voice for others. i can speak kinder, or so it feels, and i’m heard.

so, this couple came and sat next to me. in a place i thought secluded. clearly not secluded enough.

two boxed pizzas in hand. a blanket. two cokes.

they sat down, facing the sun. which is facing me. so i suppose i faced away from the sun.

they ate and sipped and listened to coldplay and laughed and chatted. and that’s when i realized there must be a coldplay concert coming up or one that just happened because i’ve seen so many people wearing coldplay shirts around today. (i googled it when i got to wifi, it happened two days ago.)

i went back to reading, writers and lovers. (Thanks Katie for the book rec.)

they’re laying down now, absorbing the sun. his hand is on her upper thigh, tapping along to the beat of yellow.

i hadn’t noticed they moved from eating to laying. i myself was absorbed in the book i’ve downloaded.

in the shade.

but when i looked up, i looked directly at them. looked at that slight touch of his hand. her hands resting on her own chest, on her heart.

i thought, how beautiful.

two people. dating. and the touch of a man. a man you like.

every time i look up they’re in a new position.

now she’s moved to be laying on her side, towards him. he remains laying face up, and his hand is between her legs.

she’s slowly tracing his arm, gently up and down. their eyes are closed.

yet, despite the physical distance that still exists between them, i can feel their warmth and comfort.

i don’t know what love is. but i feel like whatever exists between them is pretty close. it’s not the physical touch i note. rather the lack of it. the comfort of just the tiniest trace of affection and yet they’re clearly independent. i can feel their individuality. and i can feel their choosing of each other. i can feel that they’re happy alone and happy together. i don’t know how else to describe it. their individuality and their coupling exists at once. and maybe a part of love is the choosing of yourself and the choosing of another. that they can coexist. that you don’t need to lose yourself to love another. of course that’s true.

of course.

and like magic, it’s like a vision of them thirty years from now just walked by and set their own picnic up a few feet away.

and when i look back at the young couple they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other. the man laughs.

i didn’t really realize i was missing something until it was right in front of me.

so with that, i’ll slide up away from this notes app to another app, the app that holds my book, and continue reading.

ps my allergies are horrible.

xx

7.7.23

[mimi-ya]

brewed ~ trafalgar d. law x reader

3,500 words | she/her reader

summary: you swear the regular at the coffee shop was going to overdose on caffeine one day

masterlist

“Two hot mochas, an iced caramel latte, three scones and a Trafalgar.”

You pause, looking up from the cups you’re writing on, “A what?”

It had been several hectic weeks since starting at the small café in the middle of downtown. You were thankful to have the job, even if it came with some quirks.

There was Sanji who baked all the pastries in the back, and Luffy definitely who ate more than he served. Nami, who was always sweet talking her way into free drinks for her and her blue haired girlfriend. Zoro who always came in after his morning run, never for himself but to order a whipped cream pup cup for his dog, Chopper.

But a Trafalgar was a new one.

“Here a little early today, Shachi.” Sanji takes the cups from you hand, expertly beginning to brew the espresso and froth the milk.

The man dressed in scrubs smiles, “Captain had an emergency amputation, hasn’t even left the hospital.”

“Hope he can get some rest before his next shift.” Sanji places three of the beverages into a holder, before turning to you, “Watch (Y/N), this is an order you’ll want to know like the back of your hand.”

Sanji plucks the largest cup offered out of the stack, pumping in a generous amount of caramel, and then filling almost three quarters of it with pure espresso. Using a stirrer, he gives it a few quick twirls to melt the caramel before topping it off with milk that is steamed way beyond the regulated temperature.

“Raspberry scones okay today?” Sanji asks, covering the drink with a lid before passing over the holder.

“You know they’ll eat anything you make!” Shachi laughs, picking up the drinks and accepting the bag of pastries, “I’ll see you again soon!” He says, before leaving the store.

“That looked like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen you make.”

“That was a Trafalgar.” Sanji wipes down the counter, “Usually gets two a day.”

“What!?” You nearly scream, “Whoever is drinking that is going to an early grave!”

Sanji shrugs, throwing a rag over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Trafalgar is one of the country’s leading surgeons. Works at the hospital down the street.” He nods out the door, “Runs his operating room like a tight ship.”

“He went to med school and still drinks that much caffeine?”

“Keeps me in business.” Sanji shrugs.

And Sanji wasn’t wrong. You end up making at least one of those disgusting drink every shift, offering it up to whatever scrubbed up nurse stops in.

.

You’re busy arranging the pastries to look more presentable after Luffy swiped a couple for his break when you hear the door chime open, “Be with you in a second!” You call, wiping of your hands before heading back to the register, “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

The man before you just stares with an unimpressed gaze, his eyes peeking out just from under the brim of his hat.

“Did you need a minute to look at the menu?” You offer when he doesn’t say anything.

“No.”

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, “Alright, well just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“I want my usual.”

“Uhm, okay.” You tap the register screen to the drink menu, “And that is?”

“Why would I know?” He snaps.

You’ve dealt with a lot of shit people as a barista. Pretentious dicks who think they’re artisanal coffee experts but probably couldn’t tell the difference from coffee to the shit that comes out of their ass. Haughty parents that load their kids up on caffeine just to dump them on whatever poor nanny they’ve hired.

But this asshole? This asshole takes the cake. From his lack of greeting to the scowl that hasn’t left his face from the moment he walked in.

“Don’t you fucking drink it?” You shoot back, enjoying the way his eyes widen in surprise. Probably the first time someone’s ever had the courage to lay back into him, “Or has your sour personality dried up all your taste buds that you don’t know what you’re putting in that shit mouth of yours?”

“Tch.” He quickly turns on his heel, almost colliding with the person coming through the door.

“Heya Traffy!” Luffy smiles, trying to loop an arm around the man. But he just shoves Luffy out of the way and storm out of the shop.

Luffy looks over at you with a pout on his face, “What’s his deal?”

You sniff, crossing your arms, “Hell if I know, and I hope I never have to find out.”

“Shi shi shi!” Luffy hops the counter, clearly forgetting the six times Sanji has told him to stop, “That’s funny (Y/N), but Traffy will probably be back tomorrow.”

“And why’s that?” You ask, honestly not that interested as you start to wipe down the counter.

“To get his special drink! I don’t think any other coffee shop will make it for him.”

Your hand stops mid wipe, a feeling of dread forming in your stomach, “Wait.” You turn around, “That wasn’t Trafalgar, was it?”

Luffy swallows a mouthful of muffin (when the hell did he swipe that?) “Sure it was! That’s what I said, Traffy!”

Well shit. You’re totally getting fired now.

.

But then a week passes, and nothing happens. A scathing review was never left on the internet. Sanji hasn’t mentioned losing his best customer. And you still have your job.

You almost think you’re in the clear until one slower afternoon the door jingles open in single of a customer. But your bright smile drops the moment you see who it is.

Trafalgar is standing with his hands dug into the pockets of his white medical coat.

The professional thing to do would be to get started on his drink now that you know it, maybe even offering an apology for your actions last time.

But instead, you say, “What can I get for you?” Expecting a repeat of last time, but then he pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

Clearing his throat, he reads off, “A triple espresso caramel latte with extra caramel, extra espresso and as hot as you can get it.”

You have to hold back a laugh because you’ve never heard someone order their drink like they were reading out of a dictionary. But he must pick up on it because his cheeks go a little pink and his hand fists the paper, “Well?” He snaps.

“Alright, alright.” You raise your hand in apology, grabbing a cup from the stack to get started.

You can feel his eyes on you while you’re working, but each time you look over his quickly glance away.

“One Trafalgar, extra hot.” You say, placing the drink on the counter.

He almost freezes reaching for the drink, eyes narrowing as he looks at you, “So you did know.”

“Not at first.” You shrug, “Luffy filled me in after you threw a fit and stormed out.”

He has the decency to look a little ashamed, “I, uh, I apologize for that. I usually don’t have to say my order.”

“I can tell.” You tease, nodding to his hand still holding the scribbled, “You get someone to write that down for you?”

Trafalgar’s face sours and this time you do let out a loud laugh, enjoying his embarrassment.

“Well next time just say you want a Trafalgar and I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“It’s Law.”

“Huh?”

He shifts on his feet, “My name, it’s Law.”

“Oh.” You blink, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I know.” And his eyes fall to your nametag when your brows furrow in confusion.

“Oh! Right!” You wave your hand, “Well, I’ll be seeing you around Law!”

You swear it looks like he wants to say something, but instead shoves a couple notes into the tip jar and is out the door.

.

Law becomes a regular fixture in your schedule. Picking up the drinks for his team more often, popping up during the slow times, sometimes even finishing his drink before he leaves.

He’s a little odd, really awkward, but pretty cute. Especially when he came in one day when he must have gotten off shift. Instead of his scrubs and coat he’s downed in a tight black shirt, piercings lining his ears and what feels like miles of inked skin on display.

And you’re just thankful he didn’t say anything when you stuttered over your words that afternoon.

“(Y/N)-ya.”

“Law.” You greet, a smile on your face as he steps through the door, “Coming or going from the hospital?” Even though it’s ten in the morning you can never be too sure with his schedule.

“Coming.” He grunts, “A twelve hour shift.”

You tut, pouring out the espresso of his drink, “Well I’ll be sure to make this one extra special for you.”

“Don’t think that’ll be a problem if you’re making it.”

Your head shoots up at his compliment but then you laugh, “I’m sure you say that to anyone who isn’t Luffy.” Capping the lid, you push the drink towards, “Honestly I don’t know why Sanji keeps him around.”

“Thanks.” Law mutters, which you find a little strange, because he always takes the bait to rib Luffy whenever he can.

“Well, enjoy the coffee!”

Law picks up his drink, almost turning around to leave before he thinks better of it, “Would you like coffee?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee?” He repeats himself, “Would you like some?”

A confused look fills your face, “I mean, if I wanted some, I could just make one.”

And then strangely Law’s face falls, “Right.” He mutters, this time actually exiting out the door.

Weird.

“Vivi.” A voice pipes up from the bar seating, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a worse display of flirting in this entire coffee shop.”

“I think you’re right Nami.” Vivi nods, “And we watch Zoro and Sanji fall all over themselves almost every morning.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“Oh my god.” Nami cries, grabbing the girl beside her, “She doesn’t even know! Vivi, she doesn’t even know!”

“I know.” Vivi rubs at Nami’s shoulder.

You roll your eyes. Nami was always dramatic, it was usually about the cost of her lattes, but this isn’t anything new, “Tell me what I don’t know.”

“He was asking you out!” Nami shouts, “And you just let a rich doctor slip right through your fingers!”

“What?”

Vivi nods sympathetically, “I think he was.”

“What, no. He- I think I would know. He wasn’t- it’s not like that! I mean-”

“I think she’s in denial.” Vivi whispers.

“You two don’t know what you’re talking about!” You shout back, slapping a rag onto the counter before storming into the back.

Nami and Vivi had no clue what they were talking.

Law didn’t like you. You don’t think Law liked anybody. You just made him coffee.

So what if he hung around while he drank it. And it didn’t mean anything when Luffy said he’s only ever seen Law smile around you. And Sanji had to be mixing up the numbers when he said Law’s purchases increased during your working hours.

Besides! It’s not like you would even care if he did.

It’s not like you watch the door waiting for him to show up every day. Or like you spend a little extra care on his drink. Or daydream about what his tattooed fingers can do. You definitely don’t think about that.

And you’re going to prove it.

But you can’t.

Because Law doesn’t come back.

Not the next day, or the day after, or the following week. It’s almost been a month and you haven’t seen him. Instead, it’s back to Shachi picking up the drinks, and at least you know he’s alive because who else would drink his nasty concoction.

You don’t even have his number so it’s not like you can text him. You suppose you could leave a message on one of his cups, part of you would rather spit in it, but you’re standing your ground. You didn’t do anything wrong! So why should you be the one to reach out?

But with each passing day you realize maybe you’re just destined to make his coffee for the rest of his life.

That is until someone slips face first and spills their scalding hot tea all over their arm.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, quickly flying around from the bar to help the man, “Are you alright?” You offer your hand.

And as you’re trying to help him to his feet, he stumbles on the now wet floor, toppling back over and painfully knocking his head on the edge of a table.

“Sir!” You fret, trying to help him up, “Don’t move, you might be concussed!”

You quickly duck into the back, grabbing an ice pack. You’re glad to see the man hasn’t moved, just pressing a hand to where you’re sure a nasty bump is probably forming.

“Here.” You offer, “Are you okay? Is there someone I can call for you?”

He surprises you by all but shoving his phone into your hands, “Will you call my son?”

“Uh, oh okay.” You respond, a little frazzled to see the phone is already dialing.

“Hello?” The voice answers, clearly irritated.

“Uhm, hi, hello!”

“Who is this?” The man sounds confused but just as equally annoyed.

You glance back at the man who’s watching you intently, “I’m calling for your father. He uhm, he slipped and hit his head. I think he might need someone to help him home. We’re at the All Blue café in downtown.”

You’re met with silence, and you briefly wonder if the man heard you.

“Are you able to-”

But you’re cut off with a growl, “I’m on my way.” And then he hangs up.

“Oh.” You pull the phone away, offering it back to the man, “I think he’s on his way. Is there something I can get for you, uhh, sir?”

“It’s Cora.” The man gives you a blinding smile, motioning to the chair, “Would you mind waiting with me until he comes?”

.

Law was not having a good day. Scratch that. He wasn’t having a good month.

He could chock it up to whatever lies he told himself, but it all started with you.

Law thought the two of you were on the same page, had even been reassured by Sanji and Luffy. Not that he really took the latter’s opinion to heart. So when you turned him down, it stung.

It stung like hell.

Law had decided he would just never see you again and that would be that. Shachi went back to picking up the coffee and Law worked on erasing you from his mind.

Easier said than done. Everyone had noticed the change in his behavior. Even Cora pestering him with questions about you, and why hadn’t he heard any new stories lately.

It’s not like he talked about you that much.

But he realized what an idiot he’s been this whole time when he finally heard your voice again after nearly a month. The swooping in his stomach and the stuttering in his chest. But what he wasn’t expecting was it to be from Cora’s phone.

And that’s when he knew Cora was up to something.

Luckily, he was almost done with his shift. Something he’s sure Cora was aware of, Law thinks bitterly.

And if he thought just hearing your voice was rough, he was sorely underprepared for seeing you again.

There you were. Sitting across from his father in the little coffee shop as the setting sun shined in. Laughing at who knows what with a giant smile on your face. It strikes Law just how much he missed that sound.

“Law! You’re here!”

Shit. Law curses to himself, having been too distracted by your beauty he was out in the open for Cora to spot.

Law pointedly doesn’t look at you, doesn’t want to see what ever emotions are crossing your face.

“What happened?” Law says through clenched teeth, noting how Cora looks fine.

“Oh, you know.” Cora waves, “Just clumsy me.” And then a smirk pulls at his lips as he looks back towards you, “But the lovely (Y/N) was able to help me. Do you two know each other?”

If Cora was any more obvious, he’d be wearing a flashing sign.

With clenched hands, Law’s eyes slide over to meet yours and he feels like even more of a mess this close to you. But then he feels like the rug is ripped out from under you when he sees the scowl on your face.

“Hello Trafalgar.”

“(Y/N).” Law grunts, hating that you’ve reverted back to his surname.

“You do know each other!” Cora exclaims, “Well you two catch up, I need to run to the restroom quickly.”

Immediately your concerned hands reach out, “Are you sure you’re okay? You might-”

“Don’t worry about me!” Cora waves, “I’ll just be a moment.”

And then it’s just the two of you.

Law shifts from one foot to the other, pointedly looking anywhere but you.

“Good to see your caffeine habits don’t run in the family.”

Law’s eyes dart to you, because are you really trying to make small talk right now?

“Although he did want his tea as hot as your usual, which I probably wouldn’t have done if I knew he was going to spill it all over himself.” Your twinkling laugh grates on his nerves in the best and worst way possible.

But Law just scoffs, looking back towards the restrooms. What the hell is taking him so long?

“Alright asshole.” You push yourself up from you seat, “I don’t what the hell I did to be getting the silent treatment, but I can take a hint.” You brush past Law, but not without a hard shove from your shoulder.

Law reels back, more so in surprise than anything else, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Me?” You whirl around, hands on your hips, “You’re the one that up and disappeared for a month and when I finally see you again you can’t say more than two fucking words!”

“Well you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you blew me off.” Law snarls.

“Blew you off?” You nearly scream, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean!”

“Oh I don’t know (Y/N)-ya.” Law rolls his eyes with sarcasm dripping from his voice, “When I asked if you wanted to get coffee and you turned me down!”

“You asked me to get coffee?” All the fight leaves your body for a moment before it kicks back in thinking about his stupidity, “How the hell was I supposed to know you meant together?!”

Law immediately colors with embarrassment and indignation, “What else was it supposed to mean!”

“Well gee.” You drawl, “Maybe that you wanted coffee from this fucking coffee shop?”

Law quickly turns his head, looking at the wall. Well, when you put it like that.

A quiet but exasperated laugh escape you, “I thought I did something to make you mad.”

“No.” Law quickly interjects, looking back at you, “I was trying to respect your answer.” He definitely doesn’t mention that it also twisted his heart to even think about you after that. Couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see your face every time he wanted coffee.

“How about you ask again?” You ask with a teasing smile.

Law’s eyes widen, “Do you want to get coffee, with me?”

“No.”

Law opens his mouth, a rude remark on the tip of his tongue until you press a finger to his lips.

“But.” The grin widens on your face, “I would love to get dinner with you.”

“Now?” Law asks hopefully.

With a surprised laugh at his forwardness you nod, “I was off the clock an hour ago anyway.” And then you glance over your shoulder, “But shouldn’t we wait for your dad?”

Law scoffs, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him, “I’m sure he’s already snuck out the back.”

BONUS

Zoro steels his nerves, even gives Chopper a pat on the head for good luck while pointedly ignoring the witch and her girlfriend starring at him from across the shop.

“Marimo.” Sanji greets, “Just the usual?”

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” Zoro rushes out in one go. If it worked for the doctor, it’s gotta work for him.

“You don’t like coffee.”

“But you do, right?” Zoro adds, doesn’t the shit cook own this place?

Sanji’s face screws up in annoyance, mumbling to himself as he writes something on the small cup of whip cream for Chopper before shoving it into Zoro’s hands.

“Yes, I like coffee you idiot. But I’m not going to go on a coffee date with you.” He sneers before pointing at the cup, “Don’t lose that.” And then he spins on his heel and retreats to the back.

Zoro’s a little confused but then he looks down to see a phone number scrawled onto the cup. A smile breaks out onto his face, well that is until a voice pipes in,

“Vivi? Why is everyone in this coffee shop romantically inept?”

[lys1]

Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words. 

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."