#salsa booth

[901dreamy]

[djinnewyorkcity]

How to Choose the Perfect Event Production Companies for Your Next Event

Are you planning a special event and want it to be an unforgettable success? You’ve come to the right place! Choosing the right event production company can make all the difference between a lackluster event and a memorable extravaganza. In this blog post, we’ll guide you through the process of selecting the perfect event production company that aligns with your vision, budget, and objectives. So, let’s get started!

1. Understand Your Event Needs and Objectives

The first step is to clearly define your event’s purpose, theme, and objectives. Ask yourself questions like: What is the main goal of the event? Who is the target audience? What type of atmosphere do you want to create? Understanding your needs and objectives will help you communicate effectively with potential event production companies.

2. Research and Shortlist Potential Companies

Time to hit the search engines! Look for event production companies in your area and make a shortlist of potential candidates. Check their websites, portfolios, and client reviews to get a sense of their expertise and reputation. Don’t forget to look for testimonials from previous clients to gauge their level of satisfaction.

3. Experience and Expertise Matters

An experienced event production company is worth its weight in gold. Look for a team that has successfully organized events similar to yours. A well-established company with a proven track record can handle any challenges that may arise during the event planning and execution process.

4. Budget Considerations

It’s essential to have a clear idea of your budget before you start contacting event production companies. Communicate your budget to the shortlisted companies and see if they can work within your financial constraints. Keep in mind that the cheapest option might not always be the best, as quality matters.

5. Creative and Innovative Approach

You want your event to stand out and leave a lasting impression on attendees. Seek an event production company that brings a creative and innovative approach to the table. Look for fresh ideas and unique concepts that align with your vision.

6. Excellent Communication Skills

Effective communication is the backbone of successful event planning. Choose a company that listens to your ideas, provides valuable input, and communicates clearly throughout the planning process. This ensures that everyone is on the same page and avoids misunderstandings.

7. Flexibility and Adaptability

Events can be unpredictable, and last-minute changes are not uncommon. Look for an event production company that is flexible and adaptable, capable of adjusting to unexpected situations without compromising the quality of the event.

8. Quality of Equipment and Resources

A top-notch event production company should have access to state-of-the-art equipment and a wide network of reliable vendors and suppliers. This ensures that your event is equipped with the latest technology and resources.

9. Check for Insurance and Permits

Event planning involves various risks, and it’s crucial to choose a company that has proper insurance coverage. Additionally, they should be well-versed in obtaining the necessary permits for your event, ensuring legal compliance.

10. Evaluate Their Team and Crew

The success of your event relies on the expertise and professionalism of the event production team and crew. Ensure that the company has skilled personnel who can handle different aspects of the event efficiently.

11. Social Media and Online Presence

In today’s digital age, social media and online presence play a significant role in event promotion and engagement. Look for an event production company that is well-versed in leveraging digital platforms to maximize event visibility.

12. Client References

Don’t hesitate to ask for references from past clients. Talking to previous clients will give you valuable insights into the company’s performance, work ethic, and overall satisfaction levels.

13. Sustainable Practices

If sustainability is important to you, inquire about the event production company’s green practices. Many companies are adopting eco-friendly approaches to event planning, which can align with your values and make a positive impact.

14. Compare Proposals and Quotes

Once you’ve gathered proposals from different event production companies, take the time to compare them. Look beyond the numbers and consider the overall value they offer, the level of service, and the extent to which they can meet your specific needs.

15. Trust Your Instincts

Last but not least, trust your instincts. If you feel a strong connection with a particular event production company and believe they truly understand your vision, it’s likely the right choice for your event.

In conclusion, choosing the perfect event production company is a critical step in ensuring the success of your special event. By understanding your needs, researching thoroughly, and considering factors like experience, creativity, and communication, you can find the ideal partner to bring your vision to life. Remember, your event is a reflection of your aspirations, so don’t settle for anything less than excellence!

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs):

    1. Q: How do I find event production companies near me?

A: You can start by searching online or asking for recommendations from friends, colleagues, or other event organizers.

    2. Q: What should I look for in a company’s portfolio?

 A: Look for events they have organized that are similar in scale and style to your own event.

    3. Q: How can I ensure my event stays within budget?

A: Communicate your budget clearly with the event production company and prioritize essential elements.

    4. Q: Can event production companies handle both small and large-scale events?

A: Yes, many event production companies are equipped to handle events of various sizes.

    5. Q: What if I need to make last-minute changes to the event plan?

A: Choose a company known for its flexibility and ability to adapt to unexpected changes.

    6. Q: Do event production companies provide event promotion services?

A: Some companies offer event promotion as part of their services, while others may collaborate with marketing agencies.

    7. Q: How can I assess the quality of equipment used by an event production company?

 A: Ask about the brands and technology they use and inquire about equipment maintenance practices.

    8. Q: What permits are typically required for events?

A: The permits needed depend on the type and location of the event. Common permits include those for venue usage, food service, and alcohol if applicable.

    9. Q: Can event production companies handle virtual or hybrid events?

 A: Yes, many event production companies have adapted to handle virtual and hybrid event formats.

    10. Q: How soon should I book an event production company for my event?

 A: It’s advisable to book as early as possible, especially for popular event production companies with limited availability.

[elinorasims]

Build | Strangerville | Ziggy's Diner

Lot Info

Type | Restaurant Lot Size | 30x20 World | Strangerville Value | 94,857 Baths | 3 CC | No Packs | Unrestricted Ziggy's Diner is a classicly retro mashup of Googie and passenger train inspired styles situated in Strangerville Plaza.

Ziggy's is a compact restaurant and bar combo with a Strangerville twist: classic red booths and an elongated mid-century modern bar layout meets sci-fi inspired and 50's-kitsch inspired cluttered decor..

It's giving the diner from the movie 'Paul'. I hope. lol

Ziggy's has a fully customised menu featuring some Mountain States inspired comfort dishes and some American classics (full menu below the cut).

DOWNLOAD >>

Interior Tour

Bar

Staff Areas

Floor Plan

| hi my loves

hopefully you like this one- it was super fun to build and I'm finding my feet a bit more building for this save, i think!

it's been playtested (briefly lol) and should be fully functional and a smooth enough restaurant experience for your sims to enjoy.

i love Paul so much aha we watched it this past weekend and i was immediately like 'yup. gotta go do a strangerville build now.'

| dag dag fn. <3

Ziggy's Diner Menu

Drinks water ; lemonade ; milk ; orange juice ; coffee ; cream cola ; fizzy fruity drink ; pitch black ; root beer float ; soda ; tang and zing ; boiler room ; eapa ; juice on the rocks ; wrench ; galactic vita-water ; silent film ; sour punch ; sunset valley ; alien juice ; cupid juice ; space energy drink ; jet juice

Appetisers chips and salsa ; mac and cheese ; bowl of olives ; bread roll ; french fries ; whole wheat bread ; popcorn shrimp ; garden salad ; cheesy bread ; grilled plantains ; seafood chowder ; soft shell crab cake ; empanadas ; watermelon salad

Mains mac and cheese ; chicken nuggets ; popcorn shrimp ; baked potato ; hot dog ; lobster roll ; veggie burger ; chicken and waffles ; fried chicken sliders ; mushroom waffles ; sausage and peppers ; scrambled eggs with bacon ; seafood chowder ; tofu dog ; fish tacos ; hamburger ; fried fish ; pancakes ; aubergine Parmesan ; sweet corn pizza ; mushroom steak ; french toast ; vegetable chilli ; egg white omelette ; mushroom soup ; bbq ribs plate ; blackened bass ; gumbo ; steak

Dessert neapolitan ice cream ; rainbow sorbet ; vanilla ice cream ; alien fruit tart ; cream filled donut ; cream snack cake ; honey cake ; plain waffles ; rainbow brownies ; hamburger cake ; chocolate chip cookie ; apple pie ; banana cream pie ; pumpkin pie ; simcity cheesecake ; fruit cobbler

[whoahoney]

Eddie from Chili’s

Waiter!Eddie x Shy!reader

A/N: based off my experience with a super cute waiter I wrote about here. 😭 and no I haven’t been back yet! I still might, idk. But here’s this!!

Rip me + cole 4ever

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, shy!reader, fem!reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stood in front of the restaurant, smoothing down the front of your open corduroy shirt, questioning the little black strappy top you wore underneath.

It had been a month since you’d been here last and you’d hoped to God he’d recognize you now that you were alone and looked nicer.

During your previous visit to the bar and grill, you had the pleasure of having the hottest guy seat you—and your mother— and you hoped he wouldn’t be your server due to the fact you wore your dingiest shoes and a mustard plaid flannel with a gray Nirvana shirt. Not to mention your hair had passed its expiration date by three days.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” He’d said after taking your order.

He towered over you, his black shirt fitting him in all the right places while exposing his heavily inked arms— skulls and mythical creatures flowed up and down his arms as if shrouded in smoke. You wondered how long it took and how badly it hurt as you dropped your bag in the space next to you and slid into the booth.

His eyes were deep golden brown and had thick lashes to frame them, and they were set on you after flickering over your being and saying, “—and in case you need anything, don’t be afraid to grab me, my name's Eddie.” He lingered for a moment longer before turning his shoulders towards the kitchen across the bar and you could’ve swore he winked on his way past, successfully stunning you to your core.

He returned with drinks after giving you ample time to look over the menu, spending his free time leaning over the counter to talk to the bartender who appeared to be his buddy, chuckling and exchanging slightly degrading comments as the older women in the booth behind you exchanged risqué quips about the two of them.

He’d placed the drinks on the coasters carefully before bringing his hands together in front of him, shifting his weight slightly, “Would you like to order an appetizer? Or do you need more time?” He looked at you and you looked at your mom like a helpless thirteen year old. She nodded at you to speak with a pleasant smile on her face.

You swallowed at your dry throat, “We need another minute, please.” You fought to keep your eyes on his as you spoke but they kept falling down the table or away from his face. He had to have known the effect he had on you.

“No worries!” He said brightly and drummed his hands on the table before going back into the kitchen.

You groaned to yourself and try to focus on the menu, the words suddenly too overwhelming to comprehend. There were so many. And all so close together!

“What are you getting, dear?” Your mother asked, “I’m getting chips and salsa, and the sirloin!” She beamed looking down at the menu.

“Uh. The, uh.” You shake your head, “I dunno.”

“Do you need me to order for you?” She asks, concerned, noticing your state.

“—No.” you answered firmly. “I just can’t figure out what I want, I’m just not hungry right now.”

“Get the chicken pasta, you like that!” She assured before nodding as the cute waiter approached again.

“Are we ready?” He asked with a smile, looking between the two of you before resting his warm brown eyes on yours. You were seated by the window on a bright overcast day, the warm light of the lamp hanging over your table cast him in a golden glow and you couldn’t help but nod and forget every word you’ve ever known in the English language.

You turn and look at your mom for help and nod at her, “You go.”

“We’ll take the chips and salsa, with queso too, and I’ll have the sirloin, medium rare, with the broccoli and potatoes.” She said, giving him enough time to write between each item, like everyone should. She handed him the menu and looked at you as he did.

Suddenly the light was blinding and you looked down to the menu to discover you still couldn’t read the fucking words on the folder before you. “I’ll have the chicken fingers. Four of them.” You cringe.

“… four orders? Like.. 16?” He schools his face as your face drains of any color and then fills back up with magenta, probably.

“Just the four, please.” You recover.

“And do you want fries with that?” He smiled with a teasing lilt to his voice, your lips twitch up at the corners much to your dismay.

“Yes, please.” You nearly grit out of your clenched jaw.

He barely glanced down at his pad as the pen scratched across it. “Alright. I’ll get that in for ya!” And he disappeared again.

“I think I know what’s going on.” Your mother mused as she gazed at the dessert menu.

You blanch and swallow again, “No, mom.”

“Oh, now I know I’m right.”

“No, you’re not.” You insisted.

“Do I need to ask him if he’s single?”

“Please no.”

“Well you oughta know that boy has been making eyes at you this whole time.” Your mother leaned forward to utter between you.

You sharply inhale at the thought of him looking at you the way he did. “I can’t think thoughts when I look at him, mom.” You whine as you sink into your seat. “It doesn’t help I look like a twelve year old today.” You ran your hands down your makeupless face.

“Well when you sit like that you look about 4, and he’s headed this way so you better get up.” She warned.

You shoot up in your seat and clear your throat, preparing to say thank you.

Eddie appeared with the basket of chips and cups of dip, lingering again as your mom plucked up a chip and scooped up some queso, “Is there anything else I can get for you?” He said only to you.

You wait for your mom to answer, but her mouth is full so you shake your head no, “No, thank you.” You say, sharper than you meant to. Eddie nods and gives a tight smile before walking back to the kitchen.

Between the time it had taken Eddie to get the order in and the chef to cook it to perfection and send it back your way, the women behind you began ordering more and more drinks, getting louder with their advances when the bartender helped Eddie deliver food to his tables.

“Aww, what a good friend!” One drawled as she accepted her plate.

“We’re actually brothers.” The bartender affirmed, his hair shaved short as opposed to Eddie’s long dark curls.

The women gasped and you turned your head to the side, noticing Eddie shyly putting his hands in his pockets as his brother clapped him on the shoulder once the food was served.

“So how are y’all related?” Another asked.

Eddie gave his brother the side eye, “… our mom and dad?”

The women cackled at themselves, crooning about how they should’ve known they were brothers by their good looks and sweet dimples. You nibbled on a chip as the brothers proved their parentage by pulling out their licenses when one of them claimed disbelief.

“Well you’re a good brother!” One of the women gushed to the bartender as Eddie made long steps to the kitchen, his brother lingering at the table and soaking up the attention as he picked up their empty glasses, “Oh, I’m just helping him out cause he’s working til midnight tonight.”

Suddenly he was back, a blur of black and white as he approached the table with the platter of your food. He handed your mothers to her and set your basket on the table in front of you before you had the chance to reach out, giving you a quiet warning about the plate being hot.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He asked you, again. This time your mom didn’t have food in her mouth as he waited for your answer, “Could I get some ketchup?” You suddenly ask.

Eddie’s ears perked and he reached across the table to grab the red bottle by the window, opening the top and squirting a generous helping on the side of your plate. You look up at him dumbfounded and embarrassed, swallowing before uttering, “I'm sorry, thank you.” You burned in the cheeks again.

He smiled smugly before setting the bottle down, “No worries. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.” He said before walking back into the kitchen again.

You exhale deeply and rest your hand on your forehead, “Oh my god.”

Your mother cuts her steak and takes a bite, “He’s good at his job.” She shrugged.

“I freaking know.” You whined again. “I can’t even eat.”

“Don’t worry about it, just get a box later.”

You picked at your food until Eddie stopped back by when your mothers plate was empty. He took her plate and asked, “Are you feeling dessert? Lava cake?” He asked between you both as your mother gazed at the dessert menu yet again.

“Mmm… Yes! Let’s have a lava cake!” She nodded. “Can we get two spoons?”

“—oh, I don’t want any, mom.” You shook your head.

“You sure?” She asked, Eddie looked at you as if to ask the same thing.

You look at both of them and nod, “Yeah—yeah, I’m sure.”

Eddie nodded at you with soft eyes, “Alright, well, is there anything else I can get for you?” He asked you, a lilt to his voice.

“A to-go box, please.” You muster, keeping your gaze focused this time on one of his beautiful eyes. He smiles and nods, checking on his other tables on his way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but notice his time was shorter at other tables. He was prompt, kind, cool and collected. He had a way with people that put them at ease— except you.

He returned to the table with your empty box, the dessert, and a leather bound check— handing both to you.

He handed your mother the plate with two spoons, despite your request, then tapped a ringed finger on the surface next to you.

His body was angled towards yours, as if to show you he was asking you, and you only, “Is there anything else I can get for you before I go out on my break?” He leaned on his hand, his head dipping towards his shoulder as he clicked the pen in his free hand.

You swallowed again and took a quivering breath as your gaze raked down his frame one last time and you shook your head, “No, thank you.”

“A-Are you sure?” He pressed, clicking his pen almost nervously as he waited for your response.

“Mhm!” You said with a closed mouth smile as you dumped your chicken fingers into the box.

He smiled tensely before he nodded and walked away, less hustle in his step as he dug in his back pocket for his cigarettes and disappeared through the kitchen doors for the final time.

The interaction has haunted you since.

You were a grown woman! How dare he take up this sort of residency in your mind—over something as stupid as a one time interaction.

Eddie the waiter with his big stupid brown eyes and his easy going facade. You bet it’s all fake anyway, there was no way anyone was that charming without any effort!

He’s in service, it’s his job to be nice and appealing! Who’s to say he wasn’t just smooth and doing it for kicks and tips!

But you did notice the way his brother tended to the rest of his tables in his absence, as if he’d waited for only you to finish before going on his break.

You replayed the moment he may or may not have winked at you in your mind a thousand times, feeling so pathetic as you wished for him to do it again.

After much convincing from your friends— and mother— you decided you’d come back, alone.

And this time you’d put more effort into your appearance, your makeup flawlessly done and deciding to wear your favorite outfit, complete with your best ass hugging jeans. Your hair was washed and styled, loose curls framed your face and your perfume was your best; not too strong, and fresh yet warm.

It is 1pm on a Friday afternoon, the same time and day you’d come last time, hoping he’d be scheduled to work today.

And with a deep breath in, you yank open the door and walk inside.

Part 2

[nadvs]

we need a second part of imperfect strangers where he actually comes and visits her for the weekends🤭 (random but i can so see them at chipotle being all cutesy)

aw tysm 💘 wrote a blurb and rly leaned into the goofy fluff but it’s NEEDED with zach imo!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

continuation of this fic

Zach acts like a four-hour drive to your college is nothing.

You know he’s tired every time he pulls up in front of your dorm. You can see it in the bags under his eyes and the yawns he tries to hide from you.

But matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t have to come visit you every weekend, he won’t hear it. He’s determined to show you how badly he wants to see you, refusing to take the risk of hurting you again.

When you mention to Zach that you’re craving Chipotle the night before his visit, he finds the closest one to your campus while still on the phone with you.

The second you get into his car the next day, he kisses you before you can even get a chance to put on your seatbelt.

“Missed you, too,” you laugh when he pulls back.

After he buys lunch, you sit in a booth by a window in the restaurant, feet bumping beneath the table. He always wants to find a way to touch you, no matter how minor.

“This is a masterpiece,” he says, holding out his bowl, ridiculously competitive as usual. “I don’t know what that is.”

You gasp as he points at your meal.

“What makes yours so perfect?” you ask. He loves how you always play along with him, that you’re as much of a goofball as he is.

“Look,” Zach says, his delivery deadpan but his motive silly like usual, “I got the protein - the steak, of course…”

“Of course,” you echo amusedly.

“And brown rice, great for lowering cholesterol,” he says.

“You take one nutrition course and suddenly you’re a genius,” you sigh, recalling how he told you about one of his elective classes on the phone a few nights ago.

“Babe, I’m being serious here,” Zach says, the smile curling on his lips telling you he’s not being serious at all.

“Continue.” You take a bite of your lunch.

“Corn, a vegetable,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “salsa, extra cheese-”

“I think you’re cheesy enough,” you interrupt, putting a palm up. Zach laughs and nudges your knee with his.

“You love it,” he says. You smile, confirming it.

“Is this who you are now that you’re a local celebrity?” you tease. “All ego?”

A few days ago, a photo of him playing soccer in a home game was posted on his college’s Instagram account, celebrating the team’s most recent win.

As you expected, the top comment was by a girl who wrote what’s his @ i’m asking for a friend (i’m the friend).

“Afraid so,” he responds.

“I noticed you changed your profile picture on Instagram,” you say. It used to be his athletic headshot, but now his profile boasts an image of the two of you smiling outside of a café.

“Yeah,” he says plainly.

“Why?”

“What do you mean? Am I not cute in it?” he jokes.

“Zach,” you laugh. “Was it because girls were messaging you?”

His cheeks flush pink. He pulls out his phone and sets it in front of you.

“Yeah. I changed it so they know I have a girlfriend,” he says, gaze fluttering away. You know him so well. “And I didn’t message any of them back. You can check.”

“You’re so sweet,” you giggle. “I trust you, but I kind of want to look just out of curiosity to see what they’re saying.”

Sure enough, he has a few messages from pretty girls sitting in his inbox, some simple hi’s, others much more flirty.

“Can’t blame them,” you reply, sliding his phone back to his side of the table. “You’re hot.”

“Are you only in this for my looks?”

“I thought you knew that,” you say. “This is awkward now.”

Zach grins, bumping your knee again before sliding out of his side of the booth and settling beside you. You can smell his cologne, clean and gentle.

“Yeah, we’re the kind of couple that sits on the same side of the table, so what?” he mumbles, planting a kiss on your temple. You smirk, kneeling against his shoulder before sitting straight again.

“I’m sorry if that made you jealous, babe,” Zach says after a beat. At times, it’s hard to believe how sensitive he is. “I can ask them to take the photo down.”

“Oh,” you say with a laugh. He has a bit of a jealous streak stemming from insecurities, but you never felt it yourself, knowing how loyal he is. “I have a cute boyfriend. I can accept that it comes with a little competition sometimes.”

“There’s no competition,” he says resolutely, blue eyes hard on you. You squeeze his bicep and smile at him and he dips to kiss your fingers, right above the promise ring he gave you.

“You know that goes both ways, right?” you tell him softly. “You’ve ruined all other men for me, MacLaren.”

Your words send butterflies swirling in his stomach.

“Good thing we’ll be together forever then,” Zach says, a glint in his eyes.

“Good thing,” you agree.

(continuation blurb)

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.6k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. writing fluff has drained me prepare to only feel pain from this point on

part four: the routine, the posters and the dancefloor  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

 ix. the routine

  like many residents in the town, the saloon eventually became apart of your regular weekly routine. you found yourself in a booth every weekend, not necessarily to wind down with a drink on each visit, but to enjoy the company of those around you. after hitting the commencement of your mid-twenties, you lacked a ‘third place’ and a community you could lean on.

  “can you guys pay attention? this is the call to adventure in the hero’s journey,” yoongi snapped, interrupting a poorly hidden conversation between jungkook and namjoon. the two ceased talking in a way a child caught by their mother would. 

  similarly, the saloon served its purpose as a third place to your newfound friends. you learned about a book club hosted bimonthly by yoongi, which you were encouraged to observe, in hopes that they would gain a new member. there was a regular karaoke night, which jimin was apparently the reigning champion of, with the highest score seen amongst patrons. then, there were people like taehyung and seokjin, who came regularly to just participate and engage in whatever was going on that night.

  hoseok, as the manager of the pub, made every other friday fun with themed nights. tonight was salsa night and apparently, he did not warn yoongi of this, who also did not inform hoseok that book club night was moved.

  “i can barely hear you!” jungkook defended himself, hands in the air. 

  you’d been smiling and nodding the entire time in oblivion yourself, as the rapid dance steps and salsa music drowned out most of your surroundings. at least someone spoke up, you just wanted to be polite in consideration of yoongi’s invite to the club. 

  to your left, seokjin was dancing with mrs. oh, who was the middle-aged lady that owned the general store where jungkook worked. he originally arrived as a member of the book club, but was swept away by the addicting beat of salsa. he’d spent the last 10 minutes trying to convince the group to join in.

  “are you guys done now?” seokjin called out, having watched yoongi shut his book in frustration.

  namjoon nudged yoongi. “let’s postpone today’s meeting!”

  you laughed as yoongi made a dismissive gesture, which was cue for everyone to disperse from the corner that the club occupied. the others stood up, presumably to either grab a drink or join in on the festivities. meanwhile, namjoon tapped your arm when you rose, indicating for you to wait.

  “just wanted to check in to see how the farm’s going,” he began. “you know, our families have been close for years, so you’re basically family, too - even if i wasn’t around much during your time here before.”

  you got a sense that namjoon had his head on straight and while grounded, seemed so much bigger than the town. those around you seemed to respect him a lot. his kind attitude showed you why.

  “it’s a work in progress,” were the only words you could use. “i’m very lucky that my mom was looking over the property after my grandpa passed and even more lucky that jungkook was also looking after it.”

  namjoon’s raised eyebrows as if this was the first time he was hearing about this. “oh, he was? dang.”

  it was kind of sweet to think about - jungkook sneaking around to take care of the place out of the goodness of his heart. amidst that, though, it seemed like there was a lot on his plate, so you brought it up to namjoon.

  “yeah, he has jiwon and jiwon’s a good kid, but she’s still a kid to look after. of course, no one wanted to see her split up from jungkook and she would have likely been sent out of town to be matched with a foster family,” he sighed. 

  a few weeks prior, when jungkook first showed up to your front door to fulfill his promise of helping you fix your windows, is when you first began wondering about jungkook’s home life and where jiwon was. you also learned that day about how selfless he really was.

  summer vacation was in full swing by that june morning, with the sun beating you to a pulp and the only thing on your mind being corn season. that, and the anticipation of a handsome man expected on your doorstep at any given moment.

  your day begun at five a.m, but you made your best efforts to not let that show by ensuring your appearance was kempt prior to your visitor’s arrival. after tending to your morning tasks, you soon received the text that jungkook was at the front, as you were elsewhere on the property. specifically, you were fighting for your life attempting to close the garage shut. yet another repair needed to be addressed.

  hey, i’m out back. give me a few.

  it took twenty minutes out of your morning to shower and change into clothes that didn’t smell like cow shit because you didn’t want to look like a mess in front of jungkook. all for it to get ruined getting sweaty from putting all of your bodily strength into a broken garage door. there was no way you were going to admit you did all of that - though, you did mentally prepare yourself when you sent your reply to his text.

  a few minutes passed and you could make out jungkook approaching you from a distance. you waved, even though you wanted him to stay put and not walk all the way around. the sight of him briefly reminded you of when the two of you used your grandpa’s farmland to play hide and seek, running across the same fields you stood on. 

  “oh, i should’ve warned you about that,” jungkook started, putting a slight jog into his step as he came closer. “that garage door broke just before your grandpa passed.”

  you made an exaggerated, wide-eyed expression. “broken? oh, i was just fighting the door for fun, what do you mean?” you made sure your glare intensfied when he laughed at you. “would have been great to mention before i lost years of my life trying to close this thing.”

  “sorry, bunny,” jungkook replied, as he stepped past you carefully and put a hand on your arm as he did so. 

  he looked up at the door from the inside and smiled thinly. you mimicked his moves, trying to make out at what exactly he was inspecting. you knew farm and you knew finance, but you certainly did not know anything about repairing things. 

  “how did my grandpa get the tractor out if this door has been broken?”

  “crop production lowered in recent years because his body couldn’t handle as much. it was a low priority repair because we used the smaller one parked out by the front shed,” jungkook explained. “honestly, it’s quick fix, just looks like the cable and rollers need to be replaced.”

  you shrugged it off and checked the time. “well, this is a problem for another day.”

  as you began walking off, jungkook followed you with the same pace. you genuinely did not want to have another to-do item in your sight before you were finished with the rest of the day ahead of you. a list dedicated to repairs was an idea that you’d been toying around with, but you were afraid of how overwhelming it was going to be.

  “not to rain on your parade, buuut on my way, i noticed that your coop’s fencing might need to be replaced.”

  it was as if he read your mind. you would’ve been frustrated, but the irony was too funny to ignore. you did notice the fencing and it was definitely already on your hypothetical repair list. as a response, you only grunted and moved along.

  as you led him back into the house, the two of you made small talk. it was still odd to you, picking up a friendship where you left it off from thirteen years ago. the dynamic seemed to ease up, the more time you spent together, but you had to remind yourself that it was indeed thirteen years since you last saw jungkook and that meant thirteen years of catching up.

  “so, are you off work today?” you asked, as jungkook brought in a toolbox from the porch. 

  jungkook set his tools down by the front shoe rack, rolling up his sleeves slightly. “kinda. i don’t really have a set work schedule, i’ve just been helping out mrs. oh whenever she needs me. i did tell her i would be busy this morning, though.”

  you met remembered the oh family from when you were younger and they always gave you and jungkook free ice cream and twenty bucks each when you cleaned their store’s front windows. mr. oh was a high-ranking military general and mrs. oh owned the town general store since taking it over from her mother. their youngest son was born the last year you had visited amber valley as a child. 

  “their kid is old enough to man the front counter, huh?” you joked.

  he chuckled. “yeah. he’s in that weird pre-teen phase, though, acting like he’s cooler than everyone and anything. he used to hang out with jiwon all the time and now his new best friend is his ps5.”

  “aw, poor girl.”

  “right? too bad, hope he grows out of it. you know,” jungkook paused, glancing at the picture on the wall, “they reminded me of me and you.”

  the picture was of you, no older than eight, in faded overalls and the toothiest grin. it was untouched when you moved in and must have been framed sometime after you stopped visiting the town, having not recognized it when you came in. you didn’t have the heart to move it, knowing your grandpa put it up while you were gone. 

you weren’t sure what to say. “i hope she’s a better behaved kid than you were,” you remarked teasingly.

  “i was an angel compared to you,” jungkook shot back, rolling his eyes. “but, yeah, she’s a great kid. hardly gives me trouble. besides, anything i’ve ever needed help with? my friends, the oh family, mayor kim - i got the best support in the world.”

  pride and gratitute were intertwined in jungkook’s voice, as if he watched back the last six years before his very eyes. you couldn’t even imagine what that could have looked like. he was so young, just two months younger than you, and the idea of having the responsibility over a child at your age, much less younger, was unfathomable. 

  you didn’t want to push the subject of jiwon too much, knowing the circumstances, but you were appreciative of how jungkook allowed himself to open up to you. you leaned on the wall, listening to him talk about his little sister and it was clear he loved her very much.

  “you’re lucky to have that kind of community around you,” you said.

  “it’s your community, too, now.”

  you didn’t realize it, but you soon had spent a good chunk of time talking to jungkook, as he began the process of replacing your windows. there were other things you had to tend to outside, but the conversation flowed so naturally. at some point, you brewed a fresh pot of coffee and handed a mug to jungkook, interrupting his installation of what he explained was exterior stop moulding. 

  you were nodding your head, listening to him explain his employment situation with the oh family. “that’s real nice of you.” although jungkook had a very flexible schedule, he essentially helped with the operational portion of the store that mr. oh used to cover before he was first deployed overseas.

  “thank you for the coffee - anyway, they did so much for me when i first started taking care of jiwon, of course i would lend a hand.” he took the hot cup gratefully, cautiously taking a sip. “mr. oh hasn’t always been overseas, but even when he comes back, it’s just my full-time job at this point. they pay well and mrs. oh watches jiwon when i need it.”

  you replied, “if you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing before you worked at the store?”

when you were little, jungkook had always been academically gifted. he loved books and always used to brag about how he got better grades than you did. you always thought he was the type to leave amber valley and find success elsewhere.

  “honestly, there wasn’t really a ‘before,’ bunny. it kinda just went from me being in high school to me having to look after my sister. i worked part-time with jimin’s family when i was a teenager, sorting fish bait, if that’s what you mean,” jungkook was trying to be light-hearted, but you felt bad. 

  he noted your silence and said, “remember when we were kids and we promised to go to the same university when we grew up? and you’d show me the city instead of me showing you the valley?”

  “that was the plan,” you sighed. you nearly forgot about that and you could vaguely recall a pinky-swear being attached to that promise. “maybe there’s a universe where that happened.”

  in a phone call sometime earlier with your mom, she casually joked that she always thought that you and jungkook were going to get married. she and his mom made that bet when you were kids, mirroring the competitive spirit passed down to the two of you. you tried imagining falling in love with jungkook on campus - study dates in the library and sneaking into each other’s dorm rooms, all while being academic rivals in the lecture hall. 

  the man in front of you was neither the jungkook in your youthful fantasies or the little boy that collected seashells with you. nostalgia and daydreaming were dangerous things that couldn’t be trusted. just like you, he grew up. 

  eventually, you declared yourself a distraction and excused yourself from the living room to take care of the rest of your chores. catching up was nice, but you thought it would be better to take it slow. checking in on jungkook every half hour, it was early in the afternoon when he was finished replacing both sets of windows. 

  the sun was still unforgiving and the humidity was no different. the air conditioning system in your house was mediocre at best and there was a stand fan right where jungkook was working, along with two in the living room. you came in to offer jungkook another water bottle when he excitedly showed you his finished product.

  “not bad, huh?” he folded his arms across his chest.

  you observed his work and shook your head, impressed. “more than ‘not bad,’ jungkook. the new panels look amazing - thank you so much. i really, really appreciate it.” 

  it was hard to believe that he installed brand-new windows in such a short time span and the contrast was especially stark, given how old the broken set was. you’d been prepared to pay him for his work, but he warned you earlier that he would “beat you up” if you did so. something about revenge for spending years throwing rocks at him. 

  he grinned, as he began gathering his tools. you were a bit sad, which confused you until you realized why. however, you decided that this unresolved attraction would best be dealt with on a day where you didn't waste almost two hours talking to the man in question. you still ended up deciding this while staring at the way his tattoos looked against his flexed muscles. 

  “so, i’ll come by again for the fence?”

  “wait, what?” this question snapped you back into reality. the fence? you remembered what jungkook pointed out upon his arrival.

  he looked at you, seemingly feigning confusion. “yeah, you said you’d let me fix the fence.”

  “no, i didn’t. are you messing with me?” you narrowed your eyes at the way he slowly blinked at you. 

  “yeah, you said i can come by sometime in the middle of the week.”

  there was no way you promised such a thing. “you brat, when did i say that?”

  the conversation diverted your attention away from the way jungkook quickly bounced up and was opening the front of your door. he waved you goodbye and that he would text you before you could even process it. you made a beeline from the door, but that man was a damn fast walker.

  “have a nice day, y/n!” he yelled from afar and you could hear the laughter jump out in his tone. he knew what he was doing. 

  from that day on, you continued finding yourself in the whirlwind that was jeon jungkook. it’d been a few weeks and about two days in each week where jungkook has paid you a visit with a different excuse of a repair to “help” you out with. though you knew it was bullshit, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes everytime he greeted you at your front door showed that he knew the same.

  there was a silent agreement between the two of you that no one paid attention to when it was just the two of you in the farmhouse. even though you would have refused back and forth had jungkook actually asked if you wanted help, you took anywhere from one hour to a couple just talking to him. one of the times, he insisted he check the condition of your chimney for you. this occasion was more than obvious for the both of you, as you sat on your grandpa’s stiff, old porch bench the entire time and didn’t seem to mind.

  the routine of jungkook helping you out on the farm was getting dangerous. when you packed up all of your worldly possessions and abandoned your old life, you promised yourself that this was a new chapter for yourself. there was never a man in the picture or the end goal and the last person you thought it would be was the little boy that you once called your best friend.

  on the third day of jungkook’s mission to use your grandpa’s property as a level of house-flipper, you made lunch for the both of you. 

  “it’s really not a big deal, i ate before i came here.”

  jungkook was busy smashing a rail into place with a mallet when you approached. you clutched your cardigans a little closer to yourself, as the wind outside took aback. you looked up and silver clouds muddled in the sky. it was hard to tell because of the lack of sun, but it was nearing two p.m. 

  “you came here in the morning!” you huffed, tapping your feet. 

  it was a great deal of confidence in your chest for you to think that no one was more stubborn than you were. as much as you deflected help from jungkook, you were certainly beating his level of persistence. at this point, you would just have to shove food into jungkook’s mouth for you to take it over the top.

  he made an exasperated sigh. “bro, i forgot how annoying you can get.” even though jungkook stood firm with “helping” you with repairs, he was no match for your insistence.

  “let’s go - chop, chop.” your voice was dry, as you took the hammer from his hand yourself. 

  you turned to place the hammer back into jungkook’s tool box when you felt the first kiss of a storm on your bare legs. the sky never lied. you tilted your head up to meet the clouds again, but this time, the rain was sharp and doubled, then tripled. you heard jungkook call out your name from behind you.

  “this doesn’t look good, let’s go,” he said, taking the denim jacket tied around his waist. the cold sensation lightened on your back and you realized it was because he was holding the jacket between the two of you, with his right arm pulling you to his side and his left arm enveloping your body. 

  a clap of thunder interrupted your daze. you wondered if amber valley always stormed like this in your childhood or if you only embraced the happy, sunny parts. the town lived in your memories surrounded by dazzling waters and a rainbow, just like everything else did when you were nine. 

  you tried keeping up with jungkook’s pace, but your legs were failing. “can you slow down?” you panted. 

  jungkook couldn’t help but snort aloud. “if this was a zombie apocalypse, you’d be dead right now.” when you stomped on his foot with intention, he finally relented and slowed down for you, laughing when he did so. 

  the chicken coop was on the other end of the property from the farmhouse, so you were struggling for several minutes trying to make it back. the whole time, you and jungkook continued laughing at one another and cracking jokes. it made you momentarily forget your surroundings of a growing storm.

  the two of you stumbled onto the back porch, up the steps and nearly fell on top of each other. jungkook tightened his arms around you when he saw that you were about to miss a step and you let out a breathy “thank you” through your giggling. he shook his head and dropped his grip when the two of you made it under the gable roof. you shivered when he did so.

  “you didn’t check the weather forecast?” you wheezed, checking to see if your phone was in your pocket. 

  jungkook defended, “neither did you, genius.” 

  you two paused for a moment, before bursting out into laughter again and you looked out to see the unrelenting rain. when you looked back, you wondered if jungkook was standing this close to you the entire time. you also wondered if he could tell that you were trying not to look at the way his wet t-shirt clung to his body. daring to meet his eyes, you nearly choked on your own breath when you saw that he was looking at you, too. 

  his gaze lowered and then he cleared his throat. “well, that’s too bad. i was making good progress,” jungkook also turned to stare at the grey skies and flashes of lightning.

  “i guess you can just come tomorrow.”

  the statement surprised even yourself when it left your lips. jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, before nodding slowly and the corners of his lips quirked to form that charming, gentleman smile. you couldn’t help but turn around to hide your own smile, instead telling jungkook to stop standing outside like an idiot. the agreement was no longer silent.

  x. the posters

  around your newfound friends, the dynamic between you and jungkook never changed. it did leave less room for tension, though, and you saw more of the upbeat, heart-of-gold jungkook that he displayed for the rest of the world. despite that, some caught on faster than the others.

  “if i knew you guys were going to bicker the entire time, i would’ve just asked someone else. seokjin literally offered. or, actually, i’m pretty sure that even jiwon would have been better than the two of you. doesn’t matter if she can’t reach up that high.”

  the day prior, namjoon asked you if you and jungkook wanted to help him put up posters around town for the midsummer fair. it didn’t occur to you to question why he asked you for jungkook’s presence, but you ended up roping him into it anyway. unfortunately for namjoon, the two of you ended up arguing the entire time.

  “but, i’m right. aren’t i, namjoon?” you prodded. “jungkook’s idea is horrible!”

  jungkook shrugged. “why? it’s eye-catching.”

  “there is no way anyone will agree to dressing up as a clown to hand out fliers. we’re going to scare the kids away.”

  “tell her otherwise, future mayor kim,” jungkook said to namjoon, who groaned. 

  the reason why namjoon was tasked with the promotion of the midsummer fair was simply because his father told him to. it was a town event and he was always expected to lend a hand to whatever his dad needed him for. it seemed like every time he had to do something, it was all performed with reluctance.

  “oh, god. don’t start, you have no idea what speech my dad gave to me earlier today about ‘being a leader,’” namjoon shook his head. 

  you furrowed your brows. “oh, are you planning to run for mayor soon?”

  “definitely not,” namjoon instantly responded, not an ounce of hesitation in sight. “i have a master’s degree in fine arts, the last thing i want to do is be a politician.” the laugh namjoon gave was hollow. 

  “what we would all do to not be trapped here,” murmured jungkook and you almost missed it. 

  your gaze met his and quiet smiles were exchanged. there was an air of comfort grounding the two of you, now that you knew the weight behind those words and jungkook’s sacrifices. you did, however, miss the way namjoon caught this shared smile and turned around, keeping it to himself and letting the moment remain between you two only. 

  xi. the dancefloor

  during salsa night at the saloon, jungkook seemed to be in every corner of the room except yours. it had been a few days since you last saw him, with his latest excuse for the farmhouse being chalking on your silo’s roof. you didn’t even know what that meant, but you stopped arguing the same way he stopped insisting that you didn’t have to make him food. instead, you began texting him about what time he was coming, while he began taking leftovers home, since you always “accidentally” made too much food. 

  you and namjoon continued to chat when jimin breezed by, plopping down beside you. he was sitting off to the side of the dancefloor the entire time, lazily sipping a beer and talking to hoseok.

  “because i would embarrass everyone with my moves,” was jimin’s answer when you asked him why he wasn’t participating.

  namjoon chuckled. “he sounds like he’s joking, but he’s an insane dancer.”

  “it sounds like you’re good at everything, park jimin,” you teased.

  “you know who’s not good at anything?” it seemed like this wasn’t his first beer of the night. “jungkook. he’s horrible at pretending to not look at you. you should go up to him, i think he wants something.”

  there was a sense of confusion, but even with jimin under the influence, you also saw the way namjoon leaned back in his seat. it was as if he was relieved that someone other than himself spoke up about it. turning your head, you immediately caught jungkook’s stare, which he retracted like touching fire. 

  you widened your eyes. “is there something on my face?” 

  “no, you’re just a woman that he likes that’s wearing a nice dress,” jimin deadpanned. 

  “you’re a funny drunk, jimin,” you shook your head, chuckling. what he said didn’t even register in your brain. 

  to your side, namjoon only sighed. he stood up all of a sudden, tugging jimin in the opposite direction. you were confused even more. in a second, jungkook appeared in front of you and your words immediately left your body. 

  “book club over?” he asked, scanning the room to where the others dispersed off to. 

  bewildered at the dissolution of the club meeting, you could only shrug. you weren’t sure what even happened. then, you looked up at him and smiled. 

  you said, “jeon jungkook, you’re not going to embarrass me by asking me to dance, are you?”

  “i would never embarrass you. i’m definitely a much better dancer than you, anyway.” jungkook winked and extended his hand, gesturing for you to join him. 

  without missing a beat, you grabbed his hand and got up from your seat. thankfully, the senior community of the town was loving salsa night and made up most of the crowd. you and jungkook were able to hide your horrible dancing in between the retirees going wild.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx

[silentwhsprs]

━━━━━ marthas diner , miles morales

miles and his family are dining in at your workplace, he embarrassed you infront of your entire class, remembering that miles has been missing out on a lot of spanish, so you’re using that to your advantage.

You washed the dishes that were leftover from your friends last shift. It was about 9:30 P.M. at night and nobody usually dined in around this time so you were left to close up after 10:15P.M.

You checked your phone ever so often since the gentle song of “California Love,” by Tupac was playing. It was a classic so you hummed the tune while drying off your hands. You noticed the sudden movement of shadows outside of the window shades and quickly hid behind a counter.

“Hun, you have to trust me on this! Martha’s Diner is where all the kids used to meet up at. They sold milkshakes for the price of 25¢! Are you hearing me! 25¢!” A voice exaggerated, “I know but I’m telling you, these waitresses are rude and don’t listen!” The lady-like voice replied.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here..” The man voice began, “Hello! Anyone here? Are y’all open!?”

You stood up from your squatting position and walked toward the group, you realized it was Miles’ parents, Rio and Jeff.

“Oh hey, I didn’t expect to see you Mr and Mrs. Morales! Is Miles tagging along with you guys tonight?” You smiled gently.

“Yes he will be. We all planned to end the night on a good foot even though Miles is grounded. He should be coming in here shortly. He had to grab something from the car.” Rio explained.

“Okay.. so table for three then? Follow me.” You said, walking over to an empty booth that sat in the corner, although it was in the corner it had the best view of Brooklyn in the entire diner. Many people often reserved to sit there.

“Thank you, amor.” Rio smiled, the abrupt ringing of the bell is what captured both of your attention. It was Miles, he had his usual blue and red jacket combo but his face was wet and his jeans appeared to be damped from the inside.

“Miles, trae tu culo aquí!” (Miles, get your ass here!) Rio shouted waving her hand over to the booth. As he walked over you reminisced of earlier that day when he called you out in class that you had slobbed all over your computer the previous night which led to your computer keys jamming. You were so embarrassed you ran out of class not even caring for the detentions you were given for the rest of the month.

“Ah, I’m coming, Mamá.” He groaned. He walked passed you and hung the wet coat over the booth top. “Okay, well it’s only you guys. So I can give you a 25% Family Discount, just don’t tell my boss.” You winked, pulling out your notepad.

“So.. to start off with drinks what would you like?” You asked, “We’ll start off with waters.” Jeff said, opening the menu that was set in the center of the table.

Miles focused his vision on you, looking you up down gazing at the dress you were required to wear. Usually, you had to wear skates but since your boss wasn’t there you wore your tennis shoes that had been set in your locker for a few months.

You took in notice of Miles gazing’ you didn’t know whether his parents noticed but you were sure that you were going to make sure they did. “Mis ojos están aquí arriba, pervertido.” (My eyes are up here pervert) You spat, Rio’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, Jeff didn’t understand a word that you just said but knew it wasn’t good.

“Aye! Miles! The 3 months of you being grounded has been turned into 5! And I swear if you miss another class, I will ¡estrangularte y enviarte al campo de entrenamiento!” (I will strangle you and send you to boot camp)

“I wasnt-“ Miles started.

“I don’t want to hear it! Can we get the chips and salsa?” Rio asked still glaring at her 15-year-old son. “Of course.” You said glaring at Miles.

You walked toward the back, and grabbed the clean cups and filled them up with water, you also grabbed the tray alongside the paper and filled it up with chips. Grabbing the larger tray you put all of the items on there and began walking toward the group.

“Here you guys go, These items will be on your bill as the appetizer, now is there anything you would like for your meal?” You asked, preparing the notepad once again.

“No love, how about you join us.” Rio said, moving over her purse to add room in the booth. “Oh no, I couldn’t.” You gently refused.

“Come on, I’m sure you’ll be a nice influence to this little knucklehead, he needs to find a young girl like you and not girls who refer to me by my first name.” She said referring to Gwen earlier that day.

“Ma, she wasn’t trying to provoke you, it was just harmless-“ Miles started, “Harmless?! You know your father and I hate being called by our first name and it’s no free passes to Gwanda or Gwen whatever her name is! Nor, Ganke!” Rio spat, slamming her hand on the table.

Jeff rolled his eyes at the situation, it was originally him and Miles but now it was between Miles and his wife. But, your awkward standing position was beginning to feel uncomfortable so you immediately sat down to ease the tension. “Okay.. Mrs. Morales, how about this. Puedo ear clases particulares a Miles en español, para que pueda pasar el rato con la chica blanca.” (I can tutor Miles in Spanish, so he can hang out with the white girl) You evilly smiled.

You knew Miles wasn’t ever in Spanish and when he was he was always zoning out as if he was ready to jump out of the window at any given chance, so you decided that since he decided to embarrass you in front of your entire class you would embarrass him in front of his parents.

Miles immediately shook his head instantly at your words which caused Mrs. Morales to look at him suspiciously, “Gracias (Y/N), Rees el único amiga genuino que tiene.” (Thank you (Y/N), you’re the only genuine friend he has) Rio thanked.

Miles threw his head back as Jeff started laughing, the entire salsa bowl was gone and the only chips that were left was just crumbs. “Hey Miles, how about we start off with a quiz just to assure that you aren’t a No Sabo Kid..” You smirked.

He glared at you, his honey brown irises piercing through yours. “Eres una chica sucia.” (You’re a dirty girl.) He growled. “Y eres un pervertido.” (And you’re a pervert) You smirked.

Rio looked shocked at the choice of words being transferred between you two, “Cálmate, todos son 15.” (Calm down, everyone is 15.)

Miles relieved the tension by slouching down, he knew he liked Gwen but there was just something about you that made his stomach turn. He loved bothering you and embarrassing you he loved how flustered you got whenever he pointed out the littlest things about you.

“Gay Amos a la parte de atrás, si quieres continuar con esto.” (Let’s go to the back, if you want to continue this.) You suggested, you also knew that Rio understood every word you just said, but did Miles?

“¿Qué?” Miles chuckled nervously. Rio’s eyelids begin to rise, but the sudden announcement of Jeff’s radio sliced the tension with a knife. “Ugh, sorry, honey. I gotta go. Deal with the kids, alright, I love you.” Jeff stammered attempting to climb over Miles and run out the door. Since his dad left the only thing you could do is get Miles flustered on how he made you flustered all the damn time.

“Well, your fathers gone. But I’m not done with you Miles Gonzalo Morales. Now help this girl tidy up. I didn’t even get to taste the food because your gordo de padre.” (fathers fat) Rio sighed, grabbing her purse. “Get her home safely Miles.” She said before hearing the last ringing bell.

The tension between you two was sky rocketing.

LMK IF I SHOULD MAKE A PT.2 OR MAKE ONE ABOUT EARTH 42 MILES. SEND ME REQUESTS SURROUNDING THE SPIDERVERSE ONLY PLS!!!

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Limelight Series - Chapter 2

Happy Monday Everyone! Here is chapter 2 of the limelight series! If you haven't read chapter one, click here to read it and then come back to read chapter 2.

This series came way of a message/ask from @hobby27 she asked:

"I would love something with Jensen and reader. He sees her when he’s at a convention and he’s bonkers for her. She isn’t so interested in a relationship with him because of the fame. So he has to woo her. Make her understand that he’s not a typical movie/tv star. Slow burn."

So I give you the Limelight series- It's a Jensen x reader (plus size, curvy girl) story, Jensen meets the reader in a bar, he falls fist, she is reluctant of course, but secretly she fell for him the second he walked through the door. So can a small town girl and a celebrity make it work?

Warnings for the whole series: language, multi-pov and switching between the pov mid chapters (sorry I can't help it), Jensen coming off aggressive for a hot second but then cooling off. Some douche side characters and some lovable ones, body shaming, angst, fluff, swoon, Jared is there and Micha is mention.

This story takes place an AU where Jensen is not married but Jared is and has kids.

This chapter is 3K+. Feedback, likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Please don't post as your own work, this is my work. If you would like to be added to my tag list, just ask, I am always happy to add you.

Thanks!

Once you're back in the safety of the kitchen, you finally take a breath. Oh, holy hell, you were breathing the same air as Jesnes Ackles!!!! And now you're cooking for him!!! AHHHH. You try to calm down, taking deep breaths. You have to play it cool. Come on, he's just a guy like everyone else. 

"Are you fucking kidding me!" James' voice pulls you out of your panic. 

You look up to see him standing on the other side of the small prep table that is between you, too.

"What?" You question. Feeling yourself come back together.

You familiarize yourself with the kitchen you used to know, like the back of your hand. Everything was the same; why wouldn't it be? You only gave up your kitchen and cooking career a few months ago. Turning on the deep fryer, and oven. You make your way to the small walk-in cooler.

"Are you serious? Were you going to leave me high and dry and not cook for them?" James questions as he follows you.

After surveying your limited options, you settled on nachos, picking up the ingredients and handing them to James to hold.

"No, of course not." You passively say, tossing items for him to grab, "I mean, I figured you would beg." You turn to face him, "I didn't expect his friends to be total assholes." 

Waving at James to move out of your way and back to the kitchen.

James sets everything on the table and watches you move around the room.

"Yeah, I think that Evan guy is getting his ass handed to him right now," James says matter-of-fact, picking up a tomato and tossing it back and forth in his hands. "Jensen seems kind of taken with you." 

You look at him, "Yeah, I am sure he's just a bit tipsy and being a good southern boy." You reply, dropping the tortillas in the fryer. "Plus, I am sure he doesn't want it to come out that he hangs out with assholes." 

As you return to the table, you snatch the tomato from James' hands to start making a quick salsa. "I don't know; I think there is something there." James sing-songs. 

Shaking your head in disbelief at James and his need to play matchmaker. "Just drop it. Shouldn't you be out there, ensuring no one runs off with the till or the liquor?" You question, really wanting some alone time with your thoughts. 

******

Since James had let the rest of the staff go earlier in the night, it was up to you to deliver the food. You loaded the tray and hooked the stand in your elbow to set it down once you got to the table. You prayed to anyone who would listen that you and the food would make it to the table in one piece.

You make your way towards the booth in the corner. Jared sees you first and gets up to offer assistance.

"Here, can I help?" he asks sweetly, giving you a half smile. His hazel eyes are slightly glassy from the drinking, and his long chestnut hair falls somewhat. 

"Umm, yeah, can you take the stand and open it up for me?" You ask, thankful that your voice is steady and that you're not feeling weak in the knees. You hold out your arm with the stand for him to take it from you. 

"Oh yeah," he replies, grabbing it, setting it down next to the table on Jensen's side, and then sitting back down.

You try to avoid making eye contact with Jensen but fail miserably. Sitting down the tray, you feel his eyes on you. You look up, and he smiles at you. Turning towards the table, you put on your best hostess smile.

"Well, boys, I hope you're hungry. I wasn't sure what you would be craving, so I did some of everything." You pick up the dishes individually and sit them on the table. 

"Classic bar food of wings, mozzarella sticks, beef nachos, and my favorite, perfectly crispy, hot fries." Setting the fries down closest to Jensen, your eyes linger a bit longer than needed.

Fuck, he is too hot for his own good. Slowing down your thoughts before they stumble out from your lips, you pull your eyes away and pick up the plates, napkins, and sauces to sit on the table. 

"This all looks amazing, sweetheart." Jensen's deep Southern voice breaks the silence. "Doesn't it?" he questions, his eyes staring down Evan. 

"Yeah, it looks great; thank you," Evan and his counterpart mumble. Evan looks up at you. "I am sorry about earlier, " he says, his voice cracking at the end. 

Shit, he changed his tone real quick.

You smile, "Thanks." No need to dish out anymore to him; you're sure Jensen already gave him enough of an ass-chewing.

Picking up the empty pitcher, you ask. "Need anything else besides another pitcher?" 

"Yeah, that would be great. Thanks," Jared replies, filling his plate with food. 

Giving the table a short nod, you pick up the tray to walk away and get some air. Are you star-struck?  Yes, you are a human. But you're also cautious and know under any other circumstances that if you weren't the only woman in the room,  none of the guys at the table, especially Jensen, would be paying attention to you. 

Setting the empty pitcher in front of James, he fills it up without incident. "So, you good?" He asks, focusing on making the perfect pour.

Letting out the breath you have been holding, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" You question. Running your hands through your hair and then glancing back at the table.

They're laughing and bantering back and forth, eating and enjoying life. If anyone was to come in and didn't know better, they would think they were just four average guys out for a good time on a Friday night. And really, that's all they are; regular guys, two of which have a bit of money and celebrity status. 

You look back to James. He sits the pitcher down, "I remember you having a major crush on Jensen for the longest time. Wasn't he on your list?"

Oh, of course, he would remember the list. The famous people you would fuck list if you ever had the chance. The stupid list that never comes true.  Shit why did you even tell him?

"Yeah, and I am pretty sure you had Misha on yours." You quip back, feeling your cheeks redden at the thought it might be possible.

"Yeah, but no one from my list is in the same room with me and has been giving me 'fuck me' eyes all night." 

"OK, whatever, you're seeing things. Besides, if you hadn't sent home all your waitstaff, Jensen would be making eyes with someone else. I am just the only one left with a vagina in the room."

James lets out an audible laugh that fills the room and gets the guys to snap their heads over to us.

"Yeah, OK, keep thinking that, Y/N." He distracted himself by running the bar rag over the bartop. "You know you're a knockout."

Rolling your eyes at this. Hearing comments like this always makes you self-conscious. After years of being overweight, fat, curvy, whatever you want to call it, you have come to terms with guys that look like Jensen, guys that are part of the 'beautiful people.' Despite their 'great personality,' they don't go for the average-looking girl with clothing sizes in the double digits.

Ugh, your negative thoughts are coming to the surface, and you don't want to deal with them right now or with the present company.

"You know, you can deliver this to them." You mutter, feeling the need to escape from prying eyes. You spin around quickly to be met with a wall of muscle.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jensen says, a smile on his face.

You slightly stumble and take a few unsteady steps back. "Whoa, sorry," you say, keeping your eyes down, not trusting yourself to look in those gorgeous green eyes.

"No apology needed, Darling. I was wondering…" his voice is smooth and sweet, with his Texas draw coming out.

His hands find your waist to steady you. "You want to join us, knuckleheads? I swear Evan will keep his mouth shut." He gives you a wink.

"Oh, no, thank you, that's nice of you to ask, but…" You stammer out. Your mind is slightly hazy with his close proximity and the feel of his hands on your waist. Nope, not your waist, your hips, actually. All this attention- the fact that it's him and you're sure his friends are now watching- is creating a pressure storm of fear in your chest.

Jensen does not pick up on your sudden mood shift, which is that you're having the start of a small panic attack. He thinks you're just being coy and hard to get.

"How about this, sweetheart? I have the Impala parked out back. We could ditch these losers for a while and go for a drive." His voice shifts from Jensen's Texas draw to full-on Dean's deep, sexy voice.

Whoa, what the hell! Pushing his hands off you, "Yeah, No." You step out from his hold. You will not be another notch on his belt.

"Do you think I would be grateful just because you stood up for me to your friend?" you ask, wondering why he was suddenly being handsy and pushy.  

"Your sweet, southern boy charm may work on most girls, but…ugh…just stop with the sweetheart, OK. You're leaning in hard with your Dean Winchester persona, don't you think?"

This sobers Jensen up. A boyish smirk falls from his face. "Umm..." he stumbles to backtrack a bit.

Well, that has to be a first—a female rejecting him—no wonder he's short-circuited and has no reply. Feeling disappointment wash over you, you want to go home.

"I have to clean up the kitchen." Keeping your tone neutral, you give James a side eye and head towards the kitchen.

*****

It's been half an hour. You have put everything back, cleaned every surface, and restored the kitchen to its spotless state. James only pops in to drop off the dirty plates and empty glasses. 

"You know, you don't have to do this. Go home, and I can finish cleaning up." He says, setting the beer pint glasses next to the sink where you were standing.

Picking up the glasses, you set them in the sink and wash them up. "No, I got it. Besides, I would rather wait until they leave. Feeling a bit embarrassed by my outburst." 

You've been replaying the whole night since you've been back here. 

God, what were you thinking! You're not saying you had to let Jensen put the moves on you, but was he? No, he was just being nice, that's all. Like you could ever get a guy like him. Feeling your cheeks go scarlet again. 

"You have nothing to be embarrassed by. Jensen's a grown-ass man; I am sure he has heard it before." James' voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Besides, they left a few minutes ago, so you're safe."

You rinse off the glasses and set them on the drying rack. "Yeah, I highly doubt Jensen has ever been rejected by a female in his life." You quip, pulling the bar rag from James' pocket and drying your hands.

"I am just lucky there weren't more people to witness my demise." You hand back the towel to James and cross your arms around yourself. 

"Again, you have nothing to worry about." Playfully knocking his shoulder into yours, "You want to talk about it? You seemed like you had something on your mind tonight." 

His voice is laced with concern for his friend.

"Nothing can get past you." You mutter, trying to play it off.

"I know you have dealt with your fair share of handsy guests. But this time, it seems to be the straw that broke you." Noticing your quietness, he adds, "But I get it; it's been a long night; we don't have to talk about it." Giving you the out that you desperately need.

You look up at your friend, his kind brown eyes saying so much. "God, what would I do without you?" You say out loud.

He pulls you in for a side hug, "You will never have to find out." Giving you a quick kiss on the top of your head. "You need a ride home?"

Shaking your head, no, "I am good."

"Good.  Now get out of here, please. You have helped me enough tonight; I owe you big time."

"Honestly, it wasn't anything special, but you're welcome." Playfully knocking your shoulder into his, you push yourself up from the sink.

"Night, James." You say, giving him a half smile, and head towards the back exit.

*******

The temperature has dropped slightly since you first entered the bar tonight, but not enough to warrant your jacket, so you sling it over your arm and enjoy the stillness of the night. The quietness and cool air are one thing you miss from working late nights at the bar. Getting into your jeep, you plug in your phone and see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, it's Jensen. I wanted to apologize for my actions earlier. I should not have put my hands on you or asked you to leave when you don't even know me. I should have picked up that you didn't want to have anything to do with me. 

God damn it. James! This has to be a prank, right? 

You: OK, James, nice try. Like I said earlier, I am fine. There is no need to text me from your burner phone to make me feel better.

Unknown: Umm…this isn't James.

You know better than to keep engaging with a scammer, but this was too weird.

You: OK, fine, Keep it up, but you're not Jensen. Unknown: JPG. 

Staring back at you is a photo of Jensen in the same outfit he was in tonight. Giving you his best sad boy face. Sitting on a beige couch, no other recognizable things in the background. No fucking way. It can't be.

You: Nice. Look at you putting your Google skills to use. What did you type in the search bar: 'photo of Jensen Ackles looking sad?'

Unknown: JPG.

Another photo pops in. This time, it's Jensen holding yesterday's Detroit Free Press newspaper. 

Unknown: This is starting to feel like hostage negotiations or ransom demands. It's really me.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! How the hell did he get your number! 

You: How the hell did you get my number!?

Unknown/Jensen: So now you believe me? That's good. I hoped I wouldn't have to send you more 'proof of life' photos. James gave me your number after I begged, groveled, and bribed him. 

Are you fucking kidding me! Damn it, James! I am going to kill him. Feeling yourself wish for a sweet death. You try to even out your breathing. It's nothing; you're just texting the hottest guy ever. Getting some composure back, you reply. 

You:  So, how much is my number going for these days?

Jensen: A signed photo of Misha and possibly dragging his ass out to the bar soon. 

You: Wow, that's all? Not sure if James got a deal or if you got screwed. 

Jensen: I got the better end of the deal. 

You shake your head at this. Even through text, he can still make you blush!

You: Well, if you say so. Thanks for the apology, but it wasn't necessary. 

Jensen: No, it was. I was an ass, and you made it clear from the start you weren't interested in me. 

You: I wouldn't say that. I know I am not your first or 100th choice of female companion, that's all.

Wow, OK, where is this boldness coming from? Looking back at the message you just sent, you want to delete it or backtrack on your last comment, but you see he is already drafting a reply.

Jensen: Why do you say that? You're beautiful. I was dumbstruck if it wasn't obvious. so... you're interested in me?

His second message bubble gets you. What girl wouldn't be interested? You want to reply that you're not blind. 

You: You say that to all the local girls you meet?

Jensen: No, just you. I would really like to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?

Is Jensen Ackles asking you out on a date? For real? No, this can't be happening! If anything, it's not a date; it's more of a 'good press. Make things nice with the locals.' Feeling the tiredness of the day taking over, you want to keep the conversation going, but at the same time, you want to be in comfy clothes and your house. 

You: Can I get back to you on this?

Jensen: Yeah, no pressure. Whenever and whatever works for you.

You: Thanks, I am just tired, and I still have to drive home.

Jensen: Wait, you're still out? Where are you?

You: Sitting in my car, parked a few blocks from the bar. I saw your text when I got to my car. 

Jensen: OK, stop texting me and get home. You shouldn't be just sitting in your car late at night. Text me when you get home.

You: OK, Dad. It will take me about 20 minutes.

It's sweet that he's concerned, but it's Haven, not downtown Detroit - you are perfectly safe to sit in your car this late at night. 

Jensen: I am starting a timer now.

Oh shit. Guess you better get going.

*****

Pulling into your garage and leaving your car, your phone dings with an incoming text message.

Jensen: You home?

Shutting the car door, you shake your head at this. Part of you wants to make him sweat. Yes, it's slightly sweet, but he just met you! Waiting for the garage door to shut before going in, you quickly reply.

You: Yes, Dad, I just got in. 

Jensen: I am sorry. I'm just worried. 

Shit, of course, he is a good guy. Not used to this, are we? Kicking off your shoes, you go to the kitchen to grab some water, then head to your room. 

You: Sorry. I'm not used to someone worrying. Plus, the town is a safe place. I've lived here my whole life. 

Jensen: So, you're a local girl. I bet you know all the best places to go. Can you take me on a private tour?

You: A tour of Haven?  It won't be long. Plus, I am sure your schedule is jam-packed with convention stuff; you probably won't leave the city until you leave for the airport.

You're trying your best to give him an out and remind him of why he's here in the first place. You know that convention schedules are no joke, and the talent has little to no downtime. Schedule panels and photo shoots during the day and parties for the convention goers at night, where they must appear.

Jensen: I can move some stuff around. When is a good time for you?

Of course, he will 'just move stuff around.'

You: Jensen, seriously, I don't want you to move anything around for me. That's not fair to anyone at the convention. 

Jensen: But I want to see you again. Please? My evenings are free, at least from scheduled convention appearances. I wouldn't be canceling on the fans.

You: You're sure? I don't want to discover that you bailed on your fans for me. They can be brutal.

Jensen: I promise. So, dinner? You pick the place, anywhere you want to go.

You mulled over the idea of dinner with Jensen Ackles. God, you would be an idiot to turn him down! Besides, a nice dinner with a handsome guy might be fun. 

You: OK, 7 pm, I will meet you in the convention center's lobby.

Jensen: OK, great. Can I pick you up, too, so you don't have to drive into the city?

You: That's sweet, but I will be in the city anyway. See you then.

There is no need to explain tonight why you would already be in the city. Exhaustion is hitting you hard, and as much as you want to keep talking, your body has other plans. 

Jensen: OK, night

You: Night

To Be Continued......

Tag List:

@lmhf1 @kr804573 @smoothdogsgirl @n-o-p-e-never @stoneyggirl2

[alexstalkers]

Everything Has Changed-Part 2

Backstory: Carl Gallagher is a police officer, and you are studying Psychology with a minor in Sociology at the University of Chicago. You meet at a time in your life where you don't need distractions or a relationship, but the Gallaghers are hurricanes and Carl changes your world view. 

SONG INSPIRATION: Betty- Taylor Swift

includes: one black fem reader! slowly falling in love with carl gallagher; one slightly jealous best friend…

(Part 1)

(sorry this is so short)

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

Weeks had passed since that night at Cosmo, and life seemed to settle into a new rhythm. I found myself spending more time with Carl and the rest of the Gallagher clan after getting closer with him during him, Michael, Michelle and I's hangouts. It wasn’t just the club nights or casual hangouts; Carl and I had developed a comfortable, almost effortless connection. We’d spend hours talking about everything from his work as a cop to my studies at the university. It felt natural, like I had known him forever.

But not everyone was happy about this new dynamic.

Michelle, my best friend and roommate, had started to act differently. At first, it was subtle — a raised eyebrow here, a slightly forced smile there. But as the weeks went on, her feelings became more apparent.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of classes, I came home to find Michelle sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as I entered, her expression unreadable.

“Hey, how was your day?” she asked, her tone unusually flat.

“Tiring,” I replied, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door. “I have so much to study for midterms, I don’t know how I’m going to manage.”

She nodded, but her attention seemed elsewhere. “Are you seeing Carl tonight?”

I hesitated, sensing the tension. “Yeah, we’re just going to grab some food and hang out. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Michelle’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No, it’s fine. I have my own plans.”

Her words were casual, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Before I could press further, my phone buzzed with a text from Carl.

Carl: Hey, I’m outside. Ready when you are.

I glanced at Michelle, who was now staring intently at her phone. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, not looking up. “Have fun.”

As I stepped outside, the cool Chicago air hit my face, a stark contrast to the warmth of Carl’s smile as he leaned against his car.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, pulling me into a quick hug. “Ready for some food?”

“Absolutely,” I said, returning his smile. “Where are we going?”

“There’s this great little taco place not too far from here,” Carl suggested as we got into his car. “I think you’ll love it.”

The drive was filled with easy conversation and laughter, but I couldn’t shake the unease from my encounter with Michelle. It lingered in the back of my mind like a dark cloud. I really liked Carl, but sometimes I felt guilty being out with him knowing that my best friend liked him first. She reassured me that after their first few times hanging out, there wasn't much chemistry and she felt nothing for him, but every time I hang out with him alone, she seems like she doesn't want me to.

Nothing romantic or serious has happened between me and Carl, but I am starting to like him a lot and I which scares me because I don't want to ruin my friendship with Michelle if it does happen.

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

The taco place was exactly as Carl had described — cozy, with a warm atmosphere and amazing food. We found a corner booth and settled in, our conversation flowing effortlessly.

“So, how’s work been?” I asked, biting into my taco.

“Busy, as always,” Carl replied, wiping some salsa from the corner of his mouth. “But you know, it’s the kind of busy I like. Keeps me on my toes.”

“I can imagine,” I said, thinking about the stories he’d shared with me. “Must be stressful, though.”

“It has its moments,” he admitted. “But then I think about the good we’re trying to do, and it makes it all worth it.”

I nodded, feeling a swell of admiration for him. Carl had this way of seeing the world that was both pragmatic and hopeful, a balance I found myself drawn to.

After dinner, we decided to take a walk by the lake. The city lights reflected off the water, creating a serene backdrop for our conversation.

“You know,” Carl began, his voice thoughtful, “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N. You’re easy to talk to.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. “I feel the same way about you, Carl. You’ve become a really important part of my life.”

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the water lapping against the shore providing a soothing soundtrack. But eventually, the topic I had been avoiding came up.

“How’s Michelle?” Carl asked gently.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know. She’s been...different lately. Distant.”

Carl stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression serious. “Do you think it’s because of us?”

I looked down at my feet, the guilt I had been trying to ignore bubbling to the surface. “Maybe. I don’t know. She’s my best friend, Carl. I hate the thought of her feeling left out or hurt.”

He reached out, lifting my chin so I had to meet his gaze. “Y/N, you deserve to be happy. And so does Michelle. Maybe you just need to talk to her, let her know how you’re feeling.”

“I know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just don’t want to lose her.”

“You won’t,” Carl assured me, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek. “Friendships have ups and downs, but if it’s real, it’ll survive.”

I nodded, feeling a little better. “Thanks, Carl. You always know what to say.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Let’s head back. It’s getting late.”

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

The ride home was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with the unspoken understanding between us. When Carl dropped me off, he promised to text me later, and I walked up to the apartment feeling a mix of emotions.

Michelle was still on the couch when I entered, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Michelle, can we talk?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

She set her phone aside, her expression guarded. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I feel like there’s been some tension between us lately,” I began carefully. “And I just want to make sure we’re okay.”

Michelle sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Y/N, I’m not gonna lie. It’s been hard seeing you get so close to Carl. I mean, I’m happy for you, but it feels like I’m losing my best friend.”

My heart ached at her words. “Michelle, you’re not losing me. I promise. Carl is important to me, but so are you. I don’t want you to feel left out or replaced.”

She looked at me, her eyes softening. “I know. It’s just...hard. I guess I’m a little jealous. You and Carl have this connection, and I feel like I’m on the outside looking in.”

“I understand,” I said, reaching out to take her hand. “But you’re my best friend, Michelle. No one could ever replace you. Let’s make more time for us, okay? Just the two of us.”

She smiled, squeezing my hand. “I’d like that.”

We sat there for a while, just talking and reconnecting. It felt good to clear the air, and I felt hopeful that our friendship would come out stronger on the other side.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t help but think about how much my life had changed in such a short time. Carl had brought a whirlwind of new experiences and emotions, but it was the bond with Michelle that anchored me. I knew there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long time, I felt ready to face them.

Everything had changed, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

of the father and the son

warnings: major character death, referenced assault and battery, religious themes, weird references to cumbia and salsa, basically just every warning related to the events of jason's death

it started as all rendezvous do. knowing glances, a delicate chase between tomcat and robin. a dare: catch me if you can. his partner slips out of the room unbeknownst to all except his target. the game is afoot.

they meet alone in a room. it starts with a dance. a cumbia variation. right step, left step. cross body lead. a slide to the left, a turn to the right.

“agua!” his partner cries in delight. their movements are a blur as he fights to keep control. hesitation, block, check. and then, a change of place. a change of pace.

time comes to a stand still. his head dips. he has been ensnared.

but what type of dance would it be without music? there’s not much to work with, so they improvise a duet. his partner provides the rhythm, and if done well, his jaybird rewards him with an “a” note. it’s syncopated.

clang, a-lang, a-lang, a—clang, a-lang, a-lang, AH—

but every cinderella’s evening must come to come to an end. and the clock is about to strike midnight.

                               before they part, he leaves him a small gift.

                                a gentle caress of the cheek, so he won’t

                                                             forget

                                                              their

                                                              time

                                       to                   gether.

                                        the            wound,

                                               it burns.

the spell is broken. it is 12 o’clock. and the jaybird is all alone.

12 is a funny number. it was the egyptians, who had first decided to split the night into 12 parts based on the 12 asterisms. it was caesar, who had ordered the creation of a 12 month calendar. it was jesus, who had 12 apostles before he was betrayed and that number became 11. and soon, the 12 seconds jason todd had left were about to become

11.

on good days, his mother (no that wasn’t right. his real mother was the unconscious woman the joker had left sitting across the room from him. his mother was the woman who had brought him into this world just so he could die for humanity’s sins. her included, for she too was only human) caretaker was atheist. it was only on the nights when the electricity bill had not been paid and the snow piled high on their window ledge, that she began to pray. a private mass, just the two of them. a confessional without a booth, a church without a father.

10.

he had thought she was silly then, all pressed up against the wall to steal the warmth from the next unit over as she preached of loving thy neighbour. they were bundled up in as many layers as they could wring out of the closet. under the last-washed-in-august comforter, he wore a puffer and under that, his sunday best. it was the warmest he had, all wool and short around the ankles, with a bulky security tag pressed against the small of his back. it was the only thing his father had ever left for him. he had hated her perpetual prayers that kept him from sleep. now, he longed for those days. at least then, he wouldn’t have died alone.

9.

our father, who art in heaven. did jesus pray like this too, when he was on the cross? did he ever curse the fact that even as he bled out, he could not say “my father”? for everybody is a child of god. even the prostitutes who sold themselves for a full stomach and a roof over their heads. even the criminals on either side of him, who committed sins much worse than telling the truth. even the very soldiers who had hung him there and pierced holes in him that would never mend. did jesus ever wonder why, out of all of god’s children, he had been the chosen one, born to die?

8.

he had always been taught that good things come to those who do good. he had always tried to do good by others. he had stopped his classmates from being bullied. he had fought that mugger who was about to take some old lady’s purse. he had tried to take down the joker all alone despite orders because he had wanted to save his mother. surely, those were all good actions. surely he was good.

7.

did jesus’ father ever take pity on him? god must have seen him bleeding out. even if he had accepted this fate, surely every parent’s instinct is to protect. the child’s role is to be foolish, and the parent’s role is to forgive. so surely, his own father could overlook this mistake one time. he would be rescued and they could pretend this was nothing more than a bad nightmare. but jesus hadn’t made it off his cross alive, had he?

6.

everything would be alright. his father wasn’t god. his father was batman. and batman would never let anybody die on his watch. hell, even if it was the joker locked up in here with the bomb about to go off, his father would probably save him too. god, though? god couldn’t even save his son.

5.

what was he worried about? his father would break through this door with a badass kick and save him just in the nick of time. that would show that stupid clown.

4.

any second now, his father would break through this door and save him in the nick of time.

3.

any second now, his father would come to save him.

2.

his father would come to save him.

1.

dad…save me

0.

.

.

.

they created a lovely tableau. a broken figure, no more human than he is alive, cradled in the lap of a parent he no longer fits into. mother and son, engraved in marble. father and son, covered in ash. time continues on its lumbering path, but a parent’s grief never changes.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Ice skater! Fem! Reader

A/N: hiii, the usual, not proofread, Miguel might be ooc. There will be 2 chapters left in this series before I end it 😭🫶🏼. Also I need ideas for a costume for Miguel in the last chapter, if you have any ideas lmk in the comments.

(Y/N)- Your name, (N/N)- Nickname.

Cursing, mentions of throwing up, alcohol use, Miguel finally growing a fucking pair (reader too). Miguel being just a very very lowkey creep.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Materlist

Chapter 13: Crawlin’ back to you.

—

“I don’t get it, he keeps giving me the most mixed-fucking-signals.” You sighed, leaning your head into your palm, your elbow resting on the wooden table you were sitting at with Logan, Kate and Kate’s boyfriend. “Like how are you going to kiss me, then start dating another girl, then kiss me again, without saying any sort of explanation? For all I know he cheated on her with that last kiss.” You continued to rant, your free hand spinning your straw in your six dollar Chili’s Halloween themed margarita.

“Well… maybe things would be a lot less complicated if both of learned how to stop being stubborn and just, I don’t know, fucking communicated.” Kate lectured you (for the umpteenth time this month) as she grabbed a chip from the basket before dipping it into the small salsa bowl, then taking a bite out of said chip.

“Babe chill, you act we weren’t ‘just friends’ when you would sneak into my dorm room every night all of last year.” Kate’s boyfriend (whose name was Xavier) defended you with a sly smile, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. You couldn’t help but feel a slight ache of jealousy in your chest as you watched the two, they were so cute…

Kate scoffed and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s reply. “Whatever…” she grumbled, causing Logan to let out a small laugh as he leaned against the wall that was connected to the booth.

“Hey at least you guys were actually acting friendly towards one another, when (Y/N) and Miguel aren’t dry humping each other like horny teens-“ you sunk your face into your hand as a heat of embarrassment rushed your cheek, you couldn’t believe that Logan has the audacity to say that in a crowded restaurant, and it wasn’t even a true statement! You would only make out like horny teens… “then they’re at each other’s throats.” He finished as he playfully nudged you with his elbow, causing you to almost spill your drink, but he ignored your scowl as you brought your drink closer to you before taking a sip.

“It’s giving enemies to lovers.”

“Do you really have to relate everything in real life to book tropes, babe?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Okay-“ you jumped in, putting your hands up near your shoulders in a defensive manner, sitting up straight in your seat, “how about, let’s stop talking about my pathetic and complicated love life. Let’s talk about something else, like Logan’s pathetic and complicated love life.” You said with a small smile, your gaze shifting over to Logan as you attempt to shift conversation topics, your sentence causing Logan to scoff and roll his eyes.

“No thank you, next topic.” He murmured, before taking a bite of a french fry from his plate.

“Aww come on Logan, did you end up going on that date?” You teased him with a smile,going to snatch a fry from Logan’s plate but he swatted your hand away as he sent you a glare.

“Shut up, (N/N).” He grumbled. Obviously, it didn’t go well.

“All I’m gonna say (Y/N), is he either wants to one and done hatefuck you,wants a situationship, or he’s secretly madly in love with you and wants a relationship but is afraid to tell you.” Xavier chimed in, “and you can trust me because I’m a guy, and I know how guy minds work, right Logan?” Your skating partner just nodded his head in response.

“Well if it’s not the last one, I think it would be better if my delusions weren’t fed into…” you sighed, taking another sip of your drink. “Anyways, we should get going.”

—

“Alright guys, we've got a home game tonight, so don’t get too fucking wild.” Miguel said in a stern tone, his face in its usual scowl as he gets out of his car’s driver seat and walks towards the team, pointing his finger towards his teammates who had already been waiting for him to arrive in the parking lot, gathered in a small circle, some leaning against the other cars that they had traveled in. It was Friday night, the end of midterms and the beginning of fall break, and as a small celebration The spiders had decided to all go out to eat before the game.

“It’s a fucking Chili’s O’Hara, how wild can we get?” One of them asked rhetorically, as they all started to walk towards the restaurant together.

“There’s a reason we’re not allowed into Dave and Busters guys...” Miguel mumbled with an eye roll, causing some of the other members to snicker at his reaction.

It was honestly surprising how quickly they were able to get a table to seat 26 people despite it being fairly busy on a Friday afternoon. Miguel only had to remind the group twice as they waited for the table to not get absolutely hammered or not overly gorge themselves on food to avoid throwing up mid-game, the last thing he his coach ripping him a new one as he tried to keep the team focused while half of them were throwing up into their helmets or in a nearby alleyway while the other half way too drunk to walk let alone skate.

Miguel sipped on his coke, looking over at Peter as he listened in on him ranting to the goalie about the newest comic issue of Spider-Man that he had just finished reading, when he suddenly felt a hand lightly tap on his chest causing him to look away and turn his attention to Ben Reilly who was sitting to the right of him, once he his head was turned, he’s eyes followed the direction that Ben’s finger was pointing at, the words that were spoken from Ben not really completely registering due to the all the noise happening around him at the table. He really didn’t give a good look in the direction Ben and now a few of the nearby Spiders were looking at, a fleeting glance at most, half expecting them to be looking at a waitress that they thought was attractive or something in that nature. He was in the middle of turning his head back towards the opposite direction again when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking into the direction of the hallway where the bathroom was.

“Isn’t that ice princess?” One of the hockey players that was sitting a bit closer to Miguel asked in a teasing tone, but Miguel didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding, he didn’t give a response to some of the ones who overheard to question and attempted to provoke him, chuckling, or making sly comment, a few making kissing noises. Rather he stood up from the table, rather abruptly, causing some of the others to look at him in confusion and curiosity, and as if his body was suddenly possessed, he started to walk in the same direction you had. He didn’t know why he was following behind you, if he was being honest with himself he felt kinda like a creep, but he couldn’t get himself to stop and turn around. You haven’t even noticed him, you didn’t even glance in his direction, fuck-you didn’t even know you were in the same building as him, but your presence was like one of a siren to him, and he was the sailor caught in your entrancing song.

He didn’t care if you led him towards his inevitable demise, he’d gladly drown for you.

The second you disappeared into the women’s restroom, he came back to reality, his head filled with thoughts other than you once again. In an almost panic state, he quickly rushed into the male’s bathroom that was right in front of him, thanking the gods above that you didn’t turn around and saw him. He walked over to the sink and splashed some water on his face, before leaning against the bathroom sink and taking some deep breaths to help slow down his heart rate, he was thankful that no one else was in the bathroom with him. After a few minutes, he heard the faint sound of a door creaking on, for a split second, he gambled with the idea of leaving the door and hopefully be granted the opportunity to “accidentally” run into you, but before he could properly and rationally think about it, he found his hand already pushing open the door.

“Hey! Watch it-oh shit- sorry Mig, I didn’t know that was you…” You dusted yourself off, grateful that your hand shot up to the side of the wall to prevent you from falling down butt first on the Chili’s tilted floor.

“It’s okay, I didn't see you either.” Technically speaking Miguel wasn’t lying. He didn’t see her. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you right?” He asked in a slightly softer tone, a hand quickly coming up to gently grab your chin and moving your face slightly side-to-side as if checking for injury, his brows furrowed together as those ever familiar wrinkles appeared on his face. Your heart fluttered from the sweet and nurturing gesture, Miguel’s kindness was a trait of his you saw very rarely, at least towards you, so you couldn’t help your stomach from flipping. You brought a hand up after a second, a smile slowly but surely forming on your face (as well as a blush) as your hand came up and over his, and slowly brought it away from your face and back down.

“I’m okay Miguel, don’t worry.” You reassured him in a similar quiet tone, neither of you noticing that your smaller hand was still holding onto his larger one. Your response caused Miguel’s worried expression to turn into one of relief, his hand leaving your and going up to his chest instead as he left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You attempted your best to not allow your facial expression to falter as you ignore the sudden ache in your chest once his warm hand leaves yours.

“Look…” Miguel begins after a second, hand traveling up to the nape of his neck and his gaze drops to the floor for a second before going back up to meet yours. “I wanted to ask you, if you would come watch our game tonight, it starts at 7, you could bring your friends if you want. I’ll make sure you all get good seats near the front if you do.” God he felt like he was asking his middle school crush to go on a date for the first time all over again. How did you manage to make him feel like a nervous wreck, make him feel like he could combust from anger and jealousy, make him feel like he’d never deserve you but also make him feel like he was meant to kneel and worship the ground you walked on. Is that what love felt like to him???

“Really?” Your face scrunched to one of confusion and you tilted your head to the side a bit. “Why not invite your girlfriend?” The question you just uttered took Miguel a second to process, girlfriend? What girlfriend? He didn’t-

Wait…

Ohhhhh…

He forgot he never got the chance to tell you he dumped her ass the same day he surprised you at the ice rink.

He brought his hand down and put it into his jean pocket, letting out a small chuckle as he shook his head before replying,

“Oh, no. I, uh, I dumped her.”

Was it bad that you felt relieved?

“So is that a yes?” His lips pulled up in that classic Miguel smirk, and you couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay, okay I’ll go.” You nodded with a smile, it took all of Miguel’s being to not grab you and pull you into a kiss. “But-“ you continued, bringing a finger up, pointing it at him. “If I go, you have to come watch me and Logan perform at Regionals next week, deal?” Miguel couldn’t help but let a small playful scoff leave his lips as he smirks.

“That’s it ice princess? Sounds fair enough.”

You smiled, despite his cockyness coming back at full force you couldn’t help but be a bit excited at the whole idea.

“You promise?” You asked, and Miguel chuckled, you sounded so adorable when asking that.

“Of course.”

Without another word you brought your hand back up towards him, all the fingers being curled into a fist except your pinky finger, that was outstretched. Miguel rolled his eyes and his smirk widened, releasing a small chuckle as he spoke.

“Really? What are we 5?” It was only a tease, but despite the tease he copied your movements, taking your pinky into his.

“Pinky promises are legally binding.” You joked, your smile growing as you giggled, your blush growing darker as well.

You really were gonna be the death of him.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @miguel-ohara-eater @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio @minimari415

[smallgodseries]

He doesn’t need to be a purist.

He doesn’t need to concern himself with oil temperature or fluffiness or finding the perfect fold.  He doesn’t care what ingredients are used, as long as eggs (or egg substitute) are among them, and he’s not here to debate the difference between an omelet and a scramble.  He just wants everyone to have a filling, fulfilling breakfast, or lunch, or midnight meal after the concert, when they need something to settle their stomachs and make them feel like the world is going to be beautiful again.  He’s here for the people who need soft foods for one reason or another, the ones who drown his works in cheese and salsa, and the stoners out at two in the morning, settling into their padded booths at one of this twenty-four-hour temples.

Let the chefs and the pedants argue endlessly about the finer points of the culinary art, about the difference between omelet and crepe, or quiche, or any number of other egg-based dishes.  The only argument he cares about is fresh fruit and cottage cheese vs. home fries and pork products, and he doesn’t even care about that very much.  He wants everyone to have whatever side dish their heart desires, drenched in butter or lightly sprinkled with herbal salts or devoid of all seasoning save for its own juices.  Elvis isn’t here to judge.  Judging is the task of other gods.

And as to those other gods, well…he is happy to feed them all.  He just wants the world to be full and content and peaceful, and if his way of achieving it involves mise en place and shredded cheese, can anyone really question his methods?  Can he really be blamed for thinking a properly browned piece of toast can help to bring about world peace?

Anyone who tries is probably just hungry.  Come, and eat, and be fulfilled.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Snippet of my WIP: Tiger Club (Modern AU; Teacher Eddie and Single Dad Steve)

According to Chrissy, this new parent Steve has been late to pick up every day this week– and it’s only the first week of school. He’s probably one of those parents who thinks teachers work to serve them, like they don’t have their own lives outside of schoolwork. “Chris, this is ridiculous. Detention ends at 3:30pm, same as Tiger Club. It's past four, it's Friday, and instead of sitting in our corner booth trolling bad Hinge profiles, we're waiting on the twins. Again. Are we just going to keep letting this guy get away with being late?” Eddie’s fingers twitch towards the vape in his back pocket. Obviously he doesn’t smoke in front of the kids, but they’re supposed to be gone by now. “Eddie, just relax, ok? He’s a nice guy, and it sounds like he’s a single dad with a chaotic job. Try to cut him some slack.” She gives him a reassuring smile, knocking her elbow into his side. “Don’t worry we’ll get some salsa in you and you’ll be good as new,” she snarked. He shoots her a bitchy glare but she just smiles at him and smooths out her sundress against the summer breeze. As Eddie crafts the perfect retort– it was going to be a really good one– a maroon BMW SUV pulls up to the curb. Fucking finally, Eddie thinks. If Chris isn’t going to say anything to this guy about his chronic tardiness, then he will.

Part 2; Part 3

[flyingfishtailoutpost1]

I always figured my beef with everyone insisting on everything being As Loud As Possible all the time was just a combo of neurodivergence and inherent uncoolness. Like, I hate restaurants where you can’t have conversations with anyone at your table because the music is so damn loud but other people seem fine with it so I guess I’m just Uncool.

Or the orientation breakfast I went to my first year at Book Job where we were supposed to be introducing ourselves but they were blasting dance music so loud I couldn’t hear anything so I just sat in the corner alone and everyone else had to shout at each other over their eggs. I figured this is what cool people do.

Or when my kid’s school decided to have a high school marching band come in to ‘get everyone pumped up for the new school year’ at open house, and they stuck them in the courtyard to play right next to the info booths for the aftercare programs. It was so deafening no one could ask and questions and the parents were all running from class to class with their hands clamped over their ears.

Today our school had a Hispanic Heritage parade. We have an outdoor sound system, and they pumped salsa music through it, cranked it up as loud as it could go, and hooked in a huge speaker to blast it out into the parking lot.

Three minutes later the neighboring high school was blowing up everyone’s phones because they were trying to test and the music was rattling their windows. Then the surrounding neighborhood started calling in noise complaints to the local police.

[stillwintering]

All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

Chapter 11

"I have it on good authority," said Azriel slowly. "Kallias is intent on staying in the race through the fall debate cycle."

Rhysand looked up from the papers in front of him. The muscles in his jaw feathered. "Does he have enough funds to sustain him until the Iowa Caucuses?"

Azriel nodded. "It seems his strategy is to split the anti-Thesan block of the party -- prevent us from consolidating the votes."

Rhysand leaned back in his office chair, his head tipped towards the ceiling. "I see," he sighed.

Cassian hummed to himself in the corner of the office, crumpled into a small chair. "You don't suppose..." Cassian's voice trailed off.

"Kallias knows he doesn't have a pathway to victory," Azriel supplied. "It's personal. For him."

Rhysand dragged his hands down his face, looking suddenly more ragged and tired than ever before. "I was afraid that was the case." His violet eyes were dark.

Cassian looked down at the worn carpets. "This is my fault," he whispered, "it was my operation in Herat that killed his men."

Both Azriel and Rhysand bristled immediately.

"Cass, don't --"

"It's really not --"

Cassian stood, pulling himself to his full height. "I made a bad call, Rhys," he said. "Now you are paying the price."

"No, you made a strategic choice," replied Rhysand. "I was the one in the field with Kallias's platoon. It was -- " his voice faltered, "I made the bad call. I am responsible for their deaths. Kallias is right to blame me."

The air in the small office turned thick as if the war had never ended. Cassian let out a shaky breath.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence.

"Rhys, I need you to look at these polling numbers from -- " Nesta stopped. "Am I interrupting something? I can come back."

Cassian turned towards the door, his posture stiff. He frowned, eyes downcast, a man haunted. Azriel's face was blank, but his skin looked ashen.

Rhys recovered first. "I think we are done here," he said, clearing his throat.

Nesta shifted her weight, eyes bouncing between the three men, the skin on her back tingling as if something terrible had happened. "I can come back," she repeated.

"What about the polling numbers?" Rhys waved her in.

Nesta hesitated. Azriel looked at her blankly. Cassian refused to look at her.

"You would tell me if there is anything for me to know, right?" she asked, steadying her voice.

There was a beat -- she felt it. Azriel blinked. Cassian looked stricken. Rhys clenched his jaw.

She entered the office and placed the new polling numbers on the desk.

Rhys nodded stiffly. "Of course."

---

Tortilla Coast was a Capitol Hill institution -- an unassuming Tex-Mex restaurant just blocks from the Capitol Building and one block from the Cannon House Office. It was possibly the absolute closest restaurant to those seats of power, and everyone, really everyone, went there.

The windows are bedecked with decals promising "MARGARITAS" and "BBQ RIBS"; inside are worn vinyl booths, neon beer signs, and murals of leaping fish on walls of deep red and acid green. The interns showed up in droves every afternoon for cheap drinks and free chips and salsa. Yet, it was the unlikeliest power hub in town, one of Washington’s busiest venues for political fundraisers and power dealings.

During happy hour on a crisp September day, Tortilla Coast was practically bursting at the seams. Nesta begrudgingly followed the Starborn office staff to the promise of mediocre tacos and cheap beer.

Amren surveyed the clientele with a practiced eye.

The Capitol Hill set came here to be seen -- power plays were set in motion, alliances were soft launched, and deals were announced. By the door, Thesan Morgenstern was holding court. A gaggle of eager political underlings around him, holding on to his every word. Nesta immediately recognized the man next to him -- a feature writer from Vanity Fair.

"Looks like Thesan will have a profile in the next issue," she murmured to Amren.

Azriel and Cassian disappeared into a throng of top military brass and foreign policy types -- laughing and smiling like they were amongst old friends. Nesta had never gotten along with the hawkish foreign policy establishment -- The Blob, as they had been derisively termed amongst commentators -- that dominated Washington. They seemed to her like a bunch of outdated dinosaurs championing the old-time gospel of American leadership on the world stage like it was still the 1990s.

Nesta observed Cassian clap the backs of several men in sharp suits and regulation haircuts, reeking of the Pentagon. Their heads bent in hushed conversation. Cassian's face slowly turned stern and resigned, like when she had walked in on them all in Rhys's office last week.

What happened in Afghanistan? The question clanged through her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta spotted Eris by the bar -- his red hair clashing against the kitschy decor. As the Chief of Staff to the Speaker of the House -- Eris was, by the transitive property, the third most powerful man in the country. The crowd around him treated him almost reverently, giving him a wide berth while he made his order with the bartender.

"Proximity to power deludes some into thinking they wield it," Amren commented drily into her beer.

Nesta hummed in agreement. Part of what made Tortilla Coast special was how much one can learn by just observing the crowds.

"The first debate is scheduled in Nashua, New Hampshire, next month," Amren said, turning back to her. "I'm going to send you and Cassian a week ahead of time -- advance team. Bring whomever you need."

Nesta nodded, her mind compiling tasks and logistics immediately. "We'll start planning," she acknowledged.

Eris's gaze snagged on her as he turned from the bar. He greeted her with a nod, then walked away into a crowd of Capitol Hill staffers.

Nothing had sat right with her since the Hewn fundraiser. She needed to know.

Nesta frowned. "Excuse me," she muttered to Amren and pushed her way into the crowd where Eris's distinctive red hair could be seen through the gaps between bodies.

The jovial laughter from his companions died as soon as Nesta planted herself in front of Eris. He eyed her intently, a smirk on his lips.

She pulled his head down towards her shoulder -- the cacophony of music and voices buzzed loudly around them. "What's the play, Eris?" she hissed in his ear. "Is Thesan going after Rhys's military record? Not strong enough on defense?"

Eris chuckled, his breath hot against her cheeks. "Why, hello to you too, Nesta." He smelled like limes and cloves and something smokey.

She walked into him, needing answers. She pushed him through the crowd into the wall nearby. His amber eyes glittered, amused and dangerous. He let her into his personal space, the bodies around them shifting and squeezing them closer against the wall. The air between them was hot, sweaty, and tight.

"Now, now," he murmured, "the interns are going to gossip if you manhandle me in public."

Their faces were pressed so close together -- it was the only way they could talk in private with everyone drinking around them.

"Botched missions? Is that it?" She continued, undeterred.

Eris snorted. "Have a little imagination."

"Then it's to embarrass Rhys?"

He clicked his tongue.

"Why Cassian?"

He leaned back against the wall, and his head thudded against the wood. "So," he sneered, looking down at her from the refined ridge of his nose. "You've got a soft spot for the brute?"

Nesta felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine. "Honestly, I didn't think I meant enough to you to make you territorial, Eris."

"Are you fucking him?" he asked baldly.

She swallowed, her face heating with a heady mix of indignation and shock.

"No?" He studied her keenly, roaming from her eyes to her lips and back. "But you want to."

"You don't know anything about what I want," she snapped, indignation winning out.

His hand suddenly rose to cradle her face. He leaned against her ear, all heat and tequila on his breath. "Oh," his voice rumbled deep, "but I do."

Nesta shoved him back -- he went easily. "Don't touch me," she warned.

He lifted his hands, holding his palms up, satisfied that he got under her skin.

There was a version of Nesta who would have let him feel her up in the back of a crowded bar, who would have even taken him home after. Nesta had kissed Eris for the first time at Tortilla Coast, years ago when she had started working on the politics beat at her first newspaper. She had been desperate and reckless and damaged -- Eris seemed right for her back then. She remembered the weight of his body between her thighs, how he'd made her keen, how she'd made him weak.

She never liked that version of herself.

"That part of our relationship is over," said Nesta, her voice firm.

Eris grunted. "I know." Something flashed across his face -- contrition.

He kept his hands raised and away. Nesta decided to press back into him, taking back control. He let her pin him against the wall -- the bar too cramped and boisterous for anyone to notice them.

"What will Beron do with the oppo research on Rhys?" she asked him. "Did you already give it to the Morgenstern campaign?"

Eris relaxed against her. "Thesan doesn't want to get his hands dirty," he replied quietly. He tilted his head, looking over her into the crowd. "He wants a clean primary, save the hard hits for Hybern. He's far enough ahead in the polls to stay above the fray. No sense in getting involved in petty party in-fighting."

She nodded. "So it's Kallias," she said. "The oppo research is for Kallias. He's meant to take down Rhys so Thesan can skate through to the general unscathed."

Eris smiled -- he always appreciated her intellect. It almost bordered on affection.

"The party higher-ups are rigging the primary for Thesan," Nesta concluded.

"You didn't hear it from me," he said as he slipped away.

Nesta watched him go. She could still smell the limes and cloves and smoke he left behind.

---

Cassian was pushing through the drunken masses towards her.

Tortilla Coast was getting rowdier by the minute as Happy Hour drew to a close -- the cheap beers and margaritas loosened everyone up. Laughter pealed over the hum of conversations, punctuated by the occasional shout as someone called for another round. Standing head and shoulders above the crowd, Cassian was striking -- a dark beacon in the dimly lit bar, his eyes locked on her alone.

He was close now, close enough for her to notice the faint stubble along his jaw and the slight upturn of his lips as he leaned in. His words were a deep thrum against the clamor of the bar, "Ready to get out of here?" His body aligned with hers in the small space, pressing solidly against her.

Nesta nodded quickly.

His hand dropped to the small of her back, a commanding pressure guiding her. Together, they began to make their way towards the exit, his presence a shielding force from the jostling bodies around them.

They spilled out onto the street and into the sunset -- it felt like coming up for air.

He stepped away from her. The loss of heat from his hand on her back made her acutely aware of the early evening chill.

"What did Eris want this time?" He pushed his hand through his hair, loose out of its usual neat tie from the workday.

She looked up at him, momentarily taken aback by his rugged features. He had taken off his necktie, too, collar open. The one drink she had earlier had worked through her system, loosening up her usual defenses.

She needed to know.

"Do you trust me?" asked Nesta.

His brow furrowed. "Of course," replied Cassian immediately.

"I know I'm crashing your little inner circle," Nesta began, unable to keep the bite out of her voice after months of feeling like she was on the outside. "You don't have to tell me everything. But I need to know -- I need to be able to do my job."

"You know everything, Nes." He was staring at her -- hazel eyes burning into her, completely open and all-consuming. Has anyone ever looked at her like that before?

"I swear I would never keep anything from you."

She felt like her skin was on fire.

"What happened in Afghanistan?" She whispered the question.

He blinked. "What -- " Then, his face twisted at the non sequitur. "Afghanistan? What does that have to do with -- "

"I don't care if -- "

"Rhys's service record is exemplary. You have access to his service record, his commendations."

Nesta steeled herself. "What did you do in Afghanistan?"

"Me?" Cassian eyebrows shot up. "What -- ? How is that -- ?"

"Eris pulled your FBI file."

She watched Cassian's entire demeanor change. His body went rigid, his expression closed. "That's classified," he said carefully.

"Eris mentioned that most of your personnel file was redacted," said Nesta, letting out a long exhale. "I need to know if there is anything in there that could be damaging to the candidate."

"Damaging?" Cassian startled. "Where is this coming from? I don't understand how this is relevant to -- "

"You can tell me what happened," she cut in, her heart beating hard against her ribcage.

Please tell me what happened.

Suddenly, he was bending down close to her, his hazel eyes intense, glowing like bronze in the low evening light. "Nes," he breathed. "I want to -- believe me -- but I need you to -- "

She felt goosebumps all over her arms; she couldn't look away from his beautiful face, frozen in place.

"Cassian," she inhaled. "I won't -- " She didn't know how to finish that thought -- tell? care? judge him? She couldn't promise him anything.

His face was only a few inches from hers, and his eyes dipped to her lips.

"My missions were top secret." His voice was low and pleading. "I can neither deny nor confirm anything he's told you. I would do anything, Nes, just ask me -- "

"There you two are! Ready for our run?"

They both snapped to attention at the door behind them, where Azriel had just stumbled out of Tortilla Coast. He observed the scant distance between their bodies and immediately pivoted.

"Nevermind, Amren said she was buying the next round -- "

Nesta took a step back, breathing hard.

"It's fine, Az," she said, surprised her voice was steady. "I need to get a run in."

Cassian looked away -- even in the disappearing light, his face was luminous -- and nodded.

---

First, they had to stop by the Congressional Staff Wellness Center to change out of their work clothes and into athletic wear. Then, the three of them took their usual 8-mile route around the National Mall. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, but the sky was still bright. The yellow September dusk made the monuments glow otherwordly.

This evening's post-work run was uncharacteristically silent. Usually, Cassian teased her. The three of them frequently talked about campaign strategy or upcoming legislation while they warmed up or paused at stoplights.

Tonight, Cassian was particularly solemn. Azriel was silent in his own unique way -- hyperaware, assessing. Nesta focused on her body, feeling her muscles work as they passed the Reflection Pool and then on to the Washington Monument. She pushed herself especially hard, needing to resolve all the tension that had built up in her body from her talk with Eris and then Cassian.

She had meant what she said to Eris, that the sexual part of their relationship had ended. After the spring charity gala at the Hewn Mansion, she felt a kind of finality to their intimacy. They used each other and for a long time, Nesta thought that it was enough. It took leaving DC and coming back years later -- older and only marginally wiser -- for her to finally be ready to let him go completely. Eris made every decision based on a calculus of power -- always looking for the upper hand in every interaction. He could never be what she needed.

But what did she need?

Nesta was a stranger to herself.

She had spent the entirety of her adult life closing herself off to her needs. She left home at 18 -- after her mother died and her father disappeared in all but name -- and never looked back. Her departure was as much self-preservation as it was an act of retaliation.

She was barely a teenager when her mother wasted away in front of her eyes. Her sisters were too young, too soft. Her father... he couldn't bear it. Nesta held a 10-day vigil over her mother's deathbed. She didn't have a good relationship with her mother, but she also couldn't leave her alone in that sterile hospital room.

Those last days were a cruel torture.

Her mother drifted in and out of consciousness -- cancer and morphine consumed everything that had made Elinor Archeron the formidable woman she had been in her wakeful life. She had asked for her sisters, for her father -- each time, all Nesta could do was shake her head, unable to speak, until finally, Elinor had stopped saying anything at all and just stared at Nesta like she wasn't there either.

Nesta would never forget her mother's last words to her. In a rare moment of lucidity, Elinor had whispered, with a ragged breath, "It's better if he loves you a little bit more."

Those words imprinted themselves on her like a tattoo across her heart. Nesta had resented her father's weakness, his absence, his failures. But she resented him, most of all, for not loving them enough to stay.

It's better if he loves you a little bit more.

Eris never loved her. She wasn't sure he could -- not with her, at least. And Nesta needed -- no.

She needed more than what she'd allowed herself to hope for.

---

Azriel peeled off from them at the last mile, making some vague excuse about needing to take a detour on the way home. He gave Cassian a meaningful squeeze on the shoulder and Nesta a soft smile before heading in the opposite direction.

Nesta followed Cassian toward the Lincoln Memorial, where they usually started or ended their evening workouts. They slowed at the far side of the steps, finding a private spot and avoiding the few tourists coming through.

The sun had set entirely now. The white marble edifice was bathed in spotlights, its magnificent columns rising like ancient sentinels into the starless sky.

Cassian turned to face her, his chest rising and falling from their run, breath heavy. His eyes were clear and intent, the exercise seeming to focus his mind.

"I trust you, Nesta," he said, using her full name for the first time in weeks.

She considered, eyes searching his handsome face, then slowly nodded.

"Do you trust me?" Cassian asked.

She could feel her heart beating hard against her ribcage -- adrenaline and endorphins flooding her senses.

When she did not reply, he asked again, "Nesta, do you trust me?"

She felt light-headed, but her words felt right as she spoke them, "I trust you, Cassian."

He stepped towards her, their chests inches apart. His hands reached out to gently grip her biceps, the contact grounding her. The professional boundary between them suddenly felt permeable. She felt a tug towards him, like falling into gravity.

"I served on Delta Force for 15 years," he began softly, his voice tinged with resigned anguish. "I was deployed with the United States Central Command and Southern Command. My focus was on unconventional warfare and counterinsurgency. I've been through hundreds of missions… done things that haunt me every day. The war was brutal. I have scars -- " his right hand moved from her bicep to her wrist, guiding her hand to rest against his right hipbone, "shrapnel wounds here -- "

He gently pushed her hand down the length of his muscled thigh, tracing the wound. Her breath hitched at the intimacy of the gesture and the horror it represented.

"I fractured my femur in three places," Cassian continued his voice a hushed murmur as she explored the outlines of his quadriceps through the thin fabric of his gym shorts.

"And here -- " he placed her left hand over the center of his chest " -- a bullet just missed my heart." His voice was low, and Nesta imagined the tattoo across his skin there, camouflaging the puckered scar. His chest was hot and solid beneath her palm -- she could feel his pounding heart.

"I've had to make impossible choices, ones that I can never take back." The intensity of his attention on her was overwhelming. Nesta listened silently, rapt. "The guilt, the weight of it all… it’s always there, like a shadow I can’t outrun. But I don't want to hide any of that from you."

"Stop," she murmured, removing her hands from his thigh and chest before she did something she would regret. "You don't have to -- "

"I do," he interrupted. "I want you to know everything about me."

She took a deep breath, letting the cool evening air fill her lungs. He smelled like black truffles, bergamot, and something distinctly Cassian.

Feeling bold from touching him earlier, she reached out and cradled his face in her hands. His eyes fell immediately, nuzzling into her touch.

"How many people have you killed?" she asked in a whisper.

Cassian's eyes remained closed, but his brows furrowed immediately, and he frowned. She traced the notched scar along his eyebrow with her thumb, wondering how that particular wound came to be.

She needed to know if she could bear it.

"I don't know," he finally said, opening his eyes -- hazel and pained. "I stopped keeping track. I don't know how many enemy combatants I have killed. There are always unintentional consequences of war. The civilians, I -- " His voice broke, looking like he was on the edge of tears.

Nesta softened. It was like she could finally see him in his totality for once -- all the jagged edges and the aching tenderness underneath. "That's why you left the military," she supplied for him.

He nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. "Nesta, my ledger is red as sin," he said. "And I'll try to rebalance it for the rest of my life if I have to. When I first enlisted, I believed in the mission, in the idea of fighting for the greater good. But war changes you. It strips away the illusions... There were times when I had to prioritize the strategic objectives over my conscience. The faces of those I've lost, of those I've hurt, they never leave me. I live with the consequences."

His voice wavered, and Nesta could see the pain etched deeply in his features. "I've tried to make amends in whatever ways I can. I work with veterans, advocate for survivors of armed conflicts, help get Rhys elected -- I'll do anything to give back, tip the scales... but it'll never be enough, I know."

He paused, his confession hanging between them, suspended in the autumn night. Nesta felt his sorrow, his regret -- a raw, untamed thing that resonated within her own soul.

"Cassian," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hand gently brushed away a tear that escaped down his cheek. "You are a good man."

His eyes snapped to hers, searching, hopeful. The evening lights caught the edges of his irises, gilding them with a golden hue that made them appear almost like a painting. Cassian’s hand reached up to touch hers, his fingers trembling slightly as they interlocked with her own. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. It was one of the most erotic moments of her life.

"That’s more than I ever hoped to be," he said against her skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.

Nesta felt time slow down, the world narrowing down to just the two of them, their faces inches apart.

He moved first, a slow and deliberate motion that closed the remaining distance between them. His lips met hers with an unexpected gentleness. Nesta responded instinctively, her lips parting slightly as she melted into the kiss.

Cassian's hands, callous from so much destruction, now held her with a careful reverence, fingertips tracing the lines of her jaw, then behind her ear, down her back as if memorizing the map of her body. Nesta's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. The taste of him -- spicy with a hint of something darker, more primal -- was intoxicating, driving her to explore further, her tongue seeking his with a boldness that matched his own.

As the kiss went on, Nesta moaned against his mouth, hands roaming over the hard planes of his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if she could somehow pull him even closer. Cassian reacted with equal fervor, his lips trailing burning kisses down her neck, finding the tender spot that made her gasp, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Cassian’s mouth found hers again, this time his kiss demanding, consuming, as if trying to drink her in, to drown in the very essence of her. His teeth grazed her lower lip, coaxing a gasp from her that he swallowed with a deep, throaty groan.

Nesta's heart raced, her senses overwhelmed by the wet heat of his mouth and the hot press of his body against hers -- every inch of her tingled like lightning was about to strike. It was like getting everything she wanted and everything she feared at the same time. She desperately wanted to lose herself in what it might feel like to fully let go of the past.

She never wanted the kiss to end.

[eva-knits12]

Going to the Farmer's Market with Chris Evans Characters

Steve Rogers

Steve was overwhelmed with the farmer's market.

You take James, Sarah and Margaret around, and they help pick out the veggies, fruits, and they love getting penny candy at the penny candy booth.

Steve grabs several tote bags to transport the veggies, fruits, and other interesting things.

You get lunch for everyone at one of the local food trucks.

You get James, Sarah, Margaret some donuts and some apple cider at the donut truck.

You get coffee for you and Steve.

You have Margaret's stroller with her in it, and she loves the petting zoo.

Margaret loves animals.

Eventually, you and Steve leave because Margaret is wiped from overexcitement, and James and Sarah are hungry.

The farmer's market is a great way to spend a say as a family.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom has never been to the farmers market.

So, you make it a point to go on Sunday, when they have the farmer's market.

He has you in the wheelchair, and you have several tote bags on your lap.

He goes to every booth.

You buy fresh fruit and fresh veggies.

Ransom buys beer bread mix, because he's never heard of beer bread.

He's making steaks on the grill tonight.

You also get a lemon pound cake for dessert, and you get some salted caramel brownies because Ransom loves those.

You made some for him, and he can't get enough of them.

You get some coffee and cookies at one of the food trucks.

You get some at your cousin Joelle's food truck, and you talk to Andy Barber.

You guys go home with LOTS of stuff, and the price doesn't phase the trust fund playboy.

Ransom wants to go to the farmer's market more often, especially since you cousin owns a baking business.

Andy Barber

You got there before Andy.

You had to get up very early to start the prep work for your food truck.

You have a food truck that will be there, where you'll be selling your baked goods.

Your brother helps you, and so does his girlfriend.

Andy arrives, and he gets some donuts and coffee from you.

He has a dinner planned just for the two of you.

Joy and Penelope come a few years later, so they walk with Andy.

Andy gets fresh veggies, fresh fruits, and he gets beer bread, barbecue sauce, salsa, and some other things.

He runs into your cousin Louise, and he tells Louise and her boyfriend Ransom about your food truck!

It's an amazing day, and Andy grills some pork chops on the grill.

He made corn on the cob at the grill, and you have the beer bread.

Saturdays are perfect for the farmers market.

Jake Jensen

You and Jake make it a point to go to the farmers market every Sunday when it's in season.

Sometimes you don't buy anything, sometimes you do.

Even if it's just coffee and donuts at the bakery truck.

It's the perfect Sunday coffee date.

When the girls arrive, they join in, too.

You also bring Mario, the dog you and Jake adopted.

You adopt another rescue dog at the pet adoption booth.

You name him Fagin.

For lunch, you and Jake get hot dogs, and park on a bench, and eat your hot dogs, and drink your lemonades.

You and Jake couldn't think of a better way to spend a summer Sunday together.

It's the perfect date!

Colin Shea

Colin and you go to the farmers market every Sunday.

Harper and Robbie join, too.

Colin, you, and the kids love walking around, getting donuts, coffee, and apple cider.

You get fruit, veggies, hot dogs, pretzels, and other yummy eats.

The kids love the petting zoo that happens every week.

You go back home, and make a veggie pizza for lunch, and the kids love it.

It's a great way to spend a family day.

Johnny Storm

You and Johnny go to the farmers market every Sunday.

You have Jake in the stroller.

Coffee and donuts are a must.

But Jake loves your milk!

You get fruit, veggies, soda bread, beer bread, and you get donut peaches, because you love donut peaches.

You have fruit crepes for breakfast.

You get some cannoli.

You have pizza for lunch, and split it with Johnny.

You feed Jake from a bottle.

You burp him, but he spits up on Johnny.

"He got you good!"

You clean the spit up off your husband.

Farmer's market day is also family day.

You and Johnny wouldn't have it any other way.

You have mac and cheese for dinner.

Frank Adler

You and Frank enjoy going to the farmer's market every Saturday.

It's your first stop after you've gone grocery shopping.

You get coffee and some cookies.

You, Frank, and Mary love getting hot dogs.

You and Frank are walking around, wedding rings on your fingers.

Mary is walking with her head held high, knowing that you're in her life, her uncle is lucky, and Frank keeps stealing kisses whenever he gets the chance.

A year later, it's farmer's market day, and your first wedding anniversary.

Frank and Mary give you a journal full of things they love about you.

You give Frank something just as meaningful.

You give him an ultrasound.

You and Frank are going to be parents!

Mary will have a cousin.

You and Frank are completely over the moon!

You, Frank, Mary, and Dylan make Saturday's family day at the farmer's market.

Pete Brenner

Farmer's market day is also family day.

You, Pete, Zoe, and Mary love walking around the booths.

You and Pete find a ton of gluten-free options for Zoe.

There's even a food truck that sells gluten-free baked goods.

The girls love the petting zoo, and they love eating their snacks that they get at the farmer's market.

They love the apple slices with caramel dip.

You and Pete make it a point to go every Sunday.

Pete gets some gluten-free soda bread at the gluten-free bakery booth, and he makes some gluten-free chili with Zoe for dinner.

Pete and Zoe love making different gluten-free dishes.

When Zoe becomes an adult, she owns and operates a gluten-free bakery.

Her sister Mary works at the family insurance office alongside Pete.

Zoe has a booth at the farmer's market, and loves meeting kids and adults who have to eat gluten-free.

Cole Turner

Cole is a farmer, so he spends every week at the farmer's market.

He sells his flowers and plants.

You help out at the booth, too.

Your students recognize you.

Cole and you break down the booth at the end of the day.

You and Cole spend every week at the farmer's market, and you help Cole sell his plants and flowers.

You and Cole eat Mexican takeout because you're both too lazy to cook at the end of the day.

Ari Levinson

You're battling cervical cancer, so you and Ari go to the farmer's market if you feel up to it.

Ari is following the nurses orders to make sure you're having healthy, nutritious meals.

You can only keep down pancakes and chicken broth.

But, Ari won't stop fussing over you.

"Come on, sugar. You need to eat something!"

"I can't," you plead.

Ari gets lots of veggies, fruit, and even some bagels, bread, and things that you can easily eat and keep down easily.

You eat a few bites bland veggies and bland fruits.

You throw up because the chemo is kicking your ass.

You keep down some veggies and some broth, and that's it.

Next year, you're doing much better, and have started to put on some weight.

Farmer's market day is a favorite with you and Ari.

The food at the farmer's market is organic.

Which is why you could keep it down for the most part during chemo.

You and Ari love going to the farmer's market.