#she has no idea what happened or why nothing looks familiar and the weird customs in these cities she's found

[akirakirxaa]

Persephone's not sure what's going on but she and Pommy are going to figure it out.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart || Seokjin

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Summary: You fall in love with Kim Seokjin’s bakery after wandering into it to take advantage of the post-Valentine’s Day discount on the chocolates. Maybe it’s the owner’s bad jokes, maybe it’s the other regulars, maybe it’s the delicious pastries. Or maybe there’s something more that keeps you coming back to that shop.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 14.7k

Genre: Strangers (to Friends) to Lovers, Bakery AU, tooth-rotting Fluff, some smut

Warnings & Tags: mentions of insecurities and of former relationships, smut (vaginal sex, oral [male receiving], fingering), Jin makes Bad Jokes, Valentine’s Day themed

A/N: Soooo this was supposed to come out for Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t ready then, so you guys get it now instead! I’m bad with puns so I definitely had to look online for those used in this oops. Finally, I’d like to give a big thank you to the amazing @elidebrey​ who actually worked in a bakery shop and told me all about (I’m sorry you guys ran out of milk all the time). She’s an amazing writer and you should check her out if you like the Batfam! Hope you’ll enjoy this one-shot!

February 15th

You first walk into Kim Seokjin’s bakery the day after Valentine’s Day. Your eye was caught by the chocolates and cakes you noticed on sale from the outside, and also the name of the place, The Rolling Scones, which is either genius or terrible, you can’t pick. The door bell chimes happily, first when you push the door open and then when it closes behind you.

The place is empty. There’s no one behind the counter, and you find yourself hesitating there for a second, both arms behind your back like a shy schoolgirl — which you once were, but that was a while ago now. Natural light, the cold sun of February, is falling through the bay windows, and the place is cute, clearly decorated with love and care. It makes you feel just a little warmer inside.

Since no one seems to be showing up, you take your time to look at the display. You’ve spent the past week crying over the end of your two year relationship, and you’re desperately craving something sweet and sugary to fill the hole in your heart and in your life. Post Valentine’s Day discount is definitely the best way to do that.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you knew this relationship was never going to be your forever. It was just a nice and comfortable situation to be in, and you expected you and him to part ways at some point.

You just didn’t particularly expect it to be now.

“Jungkook!” a strong voice shouts from the back of the shop, startling you. It’s quickly followed by a curse, and then a man walks in, glancing back with a worried expression, tying an apron around his waist and adjusting a small black hat on his head. You notice the ‘Jungkook’ tag on his apron, and it makes you soften in sympathy. The second his eyes fall on you, he recomposes himself, and shoots you a smile that’s professional, though the nervousness doesn’t quite disappear. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just looking,” you say, and he leans forward, probably straining to hear. Your voice has always had that weird tendency to become inaudible when you’re talking to strangers. “You don’t have anything with strawberries, do you?”

“I’m afraid everything we had went yesterday,” he says with a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, right,” you mumble. You’re disappointed to a stupid degree, and you know it’s because your emotions have been running wild recently, to the point where any small contrariety threatens to make you cry. Fortunately, you don’t, right now. That would be horribly embarrassing. “Um, I guess I’ll take that box and, uh, the éclair, please, then.”

“Of course!”

His movements are quick and precise as he takes it out, and you could be mistaken, but you think he’s deliberately not looking at you. You’re not particularly blaming him for it, though, because you’re doing the exact same thing.

“Anything else?” he asks once he’s done, and you shake your head, avoiding eye contact. “For here or to go? We’re also a café,” he elaborates when you give him a surprised — and slightly panicked — glance.

“Oh. To go, please,” you say, not so much because you actually want to, and much more because you’re bad at changing your plans when you had already made your decision.

Except… You eye the bakery. It’s not like you have anyone to come back to, and you don’t particularly want to be back at your apartment to wallow alone. You might even get some things done while you’re here.

“Um, actually, would you mind if I…?” The question dies on your lips. You’re already feeling too embarrassed to continue, but he looks up, eyes wide, and nods.

“No, no, please take a seat! Do you want something to drink as well?”

“That— That would be nice, actually.”

“Alright, just give me a second and I’ll bring you our, er, menu.”

It’s not a menu, it’s a list of drinks the owner printed and coated with plastic, and insists on calling a menu, but he isn’t going to tell you that.

You pick a table that faces the door, and after choosing and ordering your tea, pull out your computer. It’s not that the things you have to do can’t wait, but you don’t like sitting alone doing nothing. The shop is desperately empty, and part of you is terrified by the idea that Jungkook could come over to talk to you. That would probably end up not being completely unpleasant, but you’re not sure you can handle that much interaction with other human beings right now.

While scrolling through the text you are currently working on editing, you pick a chocolate out of the box to eat it and hold back a satisfied moan at the taste. The fact that it’s so good makes you feel a little more upset that you’ve never been in a relationship for Valentine’s Day and therefore have never been given anything like that.

It’s always been bad luck really, because you’ve been in a few relationships, but even with your last boyfriend, the two of you were on a break in February. The others never made it longer than a few months, and never fell at the right time. It’s not even like you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, you do think it’s mostly a commercial holiday, and you definitely don’t want any expensive gift, but you’d be happy to have someone by your side to make fun of other couples with. Someone to love you, and someone to love.

God, you want to be in love so bad. For a few months, you thought you had it with your ex, and maybe you did, for a moment, but it had slipped from your fingers without you managing to do anything about it, leaving you sad and empty. You want to feel everything the movies and books promised, the butterflies in the stomach, the rush in the beat of your heart. You want to feel like someone holds your world in their hands. You want them to love you back — really love you, so much that you’ll catch them looking at you and see it in their eyes immediately, so much that they’ll remember how you like your tea in the morning.

You don’t think your ex ever loved you, and you don’t really blame him for that. He liked you, certainly, and for a long time that was enough for you. But now, with it being over and him telling you he’d ‘met someone’, you want more out of your next relationship.

Then again, you’d thought that last time as well.

You’re grateful when Jungkook brings you your tea, tearing you away from thoughts you really don’t want to be having right now. He gives you a smile, then is quick to retreat back behind the counter, and something tells you that he has the same difficulties talking to people as you do.

That can’t make his job fun.

You’re soon able to immerse yourself in your work, much to your surprise. Usually, you’re hyper aware of your surroundings, and it’s hard to get work done unless you’re in a place that’s both quiet and familiar, but the atmosphere in here is so warm and pleasant that you’re able to relax and focus, all while drinking your tea and eating your sweets. It’s quite close to perfect, actually.

Which is why you jump violently when someone’s voice booms into the shop.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

You look up, panicked, and Jungkook turns around with the exact same look on his face. You don’t remember the doorbell ringing, so it has to be someone from the shop, and indeed, a tall man with short black hair walks in from the same place Jungkook entered. And your brain short-circuits.

It doesn’t happen all that often, for you to simply find yourself frozen because of how good-looking someone is, but in that case, you just can’t help it. The man who just walked in is tall, with very nice, broad shoulders, and the apron he is wearing underlines the muscles of his chest in ways you didn’t think were possible, but more than that, he’s also, quite possibly, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. When you glance at his plump, full lips, you find yourself having a hard time to tear yourself away. You’re relieved that you didn't have to order from him, because you’re sure it would have made you blush and stutter.

“Jungkook, there’s a mess in the back! What are you waiting fo—” Jungkook gives panicked glances in your direction, and the man catches your presence from the corner of his eyes, turning his sentence around as smoothly as is humanly possible, all while his lips curve up into a professional smile. “Ooh, hello, dear customer! I don’t think we’ve seen you here before, have we?”

A smile spills on your mouth, much to your surprise.

“No, it’s my first time here,” you answer. Your voice isn’t as strong as you’d like for it to be, but at least you didn’t choke. You suppose still being heartbroken serves as a shield against the man’s handsomeness. “I figured there’d be some discount after Valentine’s Day, and I was hungry, so…”

“You figured you’d kill two birds with one scone?” the man asks while Jungkook, behind him, silently smacks his forehead. You figure he’s heard it a million time before, but you haven’t, and you can’t help but laugh. That makes the man’s smile widen genuinely and his eyes crease.

“I guess you came up with the bakery name,” you chuckle.

“Absolutely. Isn’t it a great name?”

Jungkook shakes his head in disgust.

“It’s genius,” you say, and the man slams his hand on the table.

“See? I told you! Jungkook keeps saying that I have a terrible sense of humor—”

“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Jungkook grumbles.

“Hey, what do we say to customers?”

“Ah— It was nice to meet you!” he says, turning around to look at you and he seems somewhat sincere. “I hope we’ll be seeing you again.”

Then he bows his head politely and disappears in the back of the shop. The other man — who you suppose is the owner of the place — watches, laughing fondly, but goes quiet after that, so you go back to your work.

You don’t stay around too long, not wanting to overstay your welcome, but you’re still the only one in the shop by the time you decide to walk out.

“Was the tea any good?” the man asks as you walk by him.

You nod and smile.

“And the chocolates were delicious,” you add. “I’ll make sure to come back.”

“That’s music to my ears,” he says, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. That’s when you notice the ‘Seokjin’ tag on his apron. You don’t know what to do with that information, though. You don’t call strangers by their first name and you also don’t stalk people on line.

Especially not when you don’t have their last name.

You say a quick ‘goodbye’, then walk out. Jin’s eyes follow you for a few seconds, before he sighs and turns around, already taking off his apron.

“Jungkook!”

The boy is quick to appear again, scanning the shop for your presence.

“She’s gone?” he asks, and Jin gives a slap at the back of his employee's head with a groan. There’s no strength in it, though, and Jungkook barely reacts to it.

“How could you run away like that, you little—”

Jungkook easily avoids him when Jin tries to him it again, laughing at his outrage.

“We’re not going to be getting a lot more clients today, are we?” he asks, looking outside at the passers-by that don’t even spare a glance at the little shop.

“No,” Jin groans, letting himself fall on a chair.

The depressing calm that follows what is possibly the busiest day of the year for him is just one of the reasons why he absolutely despises Valentine’s Day.

February 22nd

When you show up at the bakery again, about a week later, you’re feeling surprisingly good about it. Last time went well, you decided, and the people were nice, so you’re not afraid to throw a quiet but polite “Hello!” when you walk in. It’s kind of funny — or is it sad — how it always surprises you when people are nice to you, much more used to passive disinterest at best.

There’s another man in the shop this time, with a laptop and a coffee in front of him, but he doesn’t look up at you. A head lifts up from behind the counter though. You feel vaguely embarrassed that you remember this one is Seokjin, and you only feel more awkward when he gives you a dazzling smile.

A glance at the display tells you that they have restocked on their strawberry-based pastries, and you happily pick a slice of cake for yourself.

“For here or to go?”

“I’ll have it here,” you say with a smile. You feel strangely proud of yourself for being able to say it spontaneously. He has no way of knowing it, but it’s quite the victory for you. Usually, you try to run from the presence of others as fast as you can, and it’s even worse those days. “And I’ll also have Darjeeling tea with it, please.”

“Coming right up, just take a seat and I’ll bring it to you,” he says, and then he winks. He doesn’t stick around to see the surprised look on your face, so you just do as he told you, wondering if he was flirting with you or if he’s just Like That. You think that second explanation might be the answer.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says when he arrives with the cake and the tea. You’re pretty sure he can’t place you exactly, just thinks your face is familiar, but it still makes you happy.

He tells you he hopes you’ll come back when you leave, and you decide you want to believe it.

June 1st

You’re not sure when you become an official ‘regular’ at the bakery. Maybe it’s when you ask Jin if they even do scones, and he leans over the counter to tell you conspiratorially that he actually wanted to call the shop ‘bake it ’til you make it’, but was told it was too long. That elicits a brief burst of laughter from you, and Jungkook tells you to stop encouraging him, but Seokjin looks so happy with himself when you laugh that you decide not to listen to him. Jin has that way of breaking past your shyness that fascinates you. It might be what keeps you coming back, more than the delicious sweets and how beautiful the two workers look.

Or maybe it’s when Jin tells you that it’s not fair you know their names but they don’t know yours, and that he’d ask you for your ID before selling you stuff if you don't tell him. When you tell him, he repeats it a couple of times, like he’s tasting it, before nodding with satisfaction. After that, him and Jungkook start greeting you with it, and insist you do the same with them. You’re reluctant at first, feeling somewhat confused about the whole thing, but it turns out to feel… nice, to have people to greet, and who also know your name.

Maybe it’s when Jin tells you that you’re late when you come in, or complains when you don’t show up on one of your usual days because you had a meeting with your boss. He doesn’t say anything on the day where you take your pastries to go because you’re visiting a friend at the hospital, though, and you wonder if he can just tell. Regardless, you appreciate it.

You find out about other people who come here frequently, too, and especially the ones who are friends with Jin and Jungkook. Namjoon, who sits with his laptop at the opposite end of the café from you. Yoongi, who usually sits in the same spot as you, and eyes you threateningly when he comes in and you’re there the first time, until Seokjin tells him to knock it off. Taehyung and Jimin, who always come in together, and who Jungkook usually joins to bicker and laugh with them. Hoseok, who likes to waltz in at random times, and whose smile actually rivals Jin’s.

You yourself come in twice a week, getting to your usual place to work — except on the couple of occasions where Yoongi gets there before you and gives you a triumphant smile when he sees you. You enjoy the way you’re always greeted by Jungkook or Seokjin, like they’re genuinely happy to see you. You discover that the old ladies who come here to gossip love to flirt with Jin and that, even though he flirts back outrageously, much to their delight, his ears tend to turn a bright red when he does.

You even bring your friends on a couple of occasion, and Seokjin jokes that you’re responsible for half of his turnover at this point. Your friends enjoy the food, and the drinks, but they enjoy the handsome employees and customers a lot more.

“So this is where all the hot men were,” Hana marvels when you walk out, and you burst out laughing. You like that you’ve shared this place with her, because it’s something that makes you really happy these days, motivates you to come out of your bed, and even to talk to people, something you’ve never been good at.

When you walk into the shop and make small talk with the people you’ve come to know, something you used to consider yourself terrible at, it might be silly, but it kind of feels like home.

June 21st

You are pretty sure you know when you go from regular to friend, though. It’s a day like any other and you hum on your way to the shop. Instead of the joyful “Welcome back, (Y/N)!” that you’ve gotten used to hearing these past few weeks, however, you’re greeted with Seokjin shouting “(Y/N), my savior!”.

You freeze on the spot and give him a worried look. From his table, Namjoon looks up, just as puzzled.

“Is everything okay, Jin?” he asks.

“Jungkook isn’t there today,” Jin tells you. His voice doesn’t sound different from usual, but there is a glint of panic in his eyes.  “I need your help.”

Namjoon stands up.

“Why didn’t you ask me? I could—”

“Stay where you are and don’t even think of approaching my kitchen,” Jin says threateningly. “(Y/N)? Please?”

Well. You suppose your work can get done later. You’re more productive when you come here, so you have some advance on your usual deadlines these days. But you don’t know what Jin wants from you and you’ve never worked in a bakery.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask cautiously.

He grabs your shoulders and your eyes widen at the contact. Not that it’s unpleasant, just unexpected.

“I knew when you first walked in here that you were a godsend,” he tells you seriously, looking right into your eyes, and you tell yourself that if he’s that good of an actor, you should probably watch out. “We’re out of milk.”

You blink.

“Okay. Is there a specific type of milk you want?”

“Just, milk. Get me milk and I’ll worship the ground you walk on until the end of days.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and take your bag off your shoulder, handing it to him.

“Look after that, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll protect it with my life,” he says solemnly. “Also paper napkins please!” he shouts as you’re already walking out.

“Will do!”

“Bake a leg!”

You want to protest the joke that even you find to be quite bad, but the door has already closed behind you, so you just shake your head at him, only to see him laughing with satisfaction through the glass, and head to the nearest supermarket.

You come back with two big packs of milk and a lot of paper napkins, just as two men are exiting. You’ve seen them before, but they never stay to chat. Inside, Jin is juggling three women, and he looks more relieved than you’ve ever seen him when you walk in.

“I’ll help you with that,” Namjoon says immediately, bumping in the table as he gets up.

“If you break anything, I’ll kill you,” Jin warns him. He’s smiling like he’s joking, and his tone is light, like he doesn’t want to scare off his customers, but his eyes say he’s sincere.

You’re quick in the back, and Namjoon does drop the packs once, but nothing bad happens. He presses a finger against his lips to tell you to keep it a secret, and you grin without a word. Part of you is kind of wondering what you’re doing there, why Jin feels comfortable letting you in the back and why he asked you to do that, but you don’t have an issue with it, not by a long shot. This is… kind of fun, actually.

“Anything else you want me to do?” you ask Jin when you come out, and he looks at you in a pleading way.

“You don’t mind?”

Something tells you you shouldn’t accept too quickly, that you could end up in way over your head faster than you know. But his brown eyes are wide and desperate and you just can’t say no. So you smile and shake your head.

“Of course not. You look like you really need a hand here.”

“I do.”

That’s how you find yourself in an apron, with the cute, black hat Jin and Jungkook always wear on your head. Jin mostly sends you in the back to pick up things he needs, or makes you bring the beverages to the customers, which you’re thankful for, because that way you don’t have to greet anyone. Time flies quickly, and you can barely find a second to breathe for the first few hours.

“Sorry, it’s lunch time,” Jin grimaces as he passes you by, and you think to yourself that at least, it will get better, but it takes a while even after that, and when it’s done, Jin sends you to buy some more stuff from the supermarket, because as it turns out, things go fast.

Before you know it, it’s closing time, and you look outside in disbelief. The sky is starting to turn a nice pink, and other shops are putting up their shutters.

“You can go, if you want,” Jin tells you. He sounds terribly sorry, and that makes you feel bad. It’s such an unusual tone for him to have.

His offer is tempting, of course. Your feet hurt, your head aches a little from all the noise that never bothered you before but turns out to be a lot when you’re there all day, you’ve burned your hand against an oven, and you’ve found out that carrying things ends up really hurting your back. But you know that he’s experiencing the same thing you do, and you just don’t have the heart to abandon him here. Also, you’ve already lost your day, so you might as well help him out now.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you want me to help with anything?”

Cleaning up goes quietly in the main shop, and that soothes you a little. You don’t mind the silence, even enjoy it, and find yourself relaxing for the first time today. Surprisingly, you’re feeling… satisfied. It’s not something you would particularly look forward to doing again, but you’re happy you did it, happy you helped Jin, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something today, which is always a good thing.

“You have flour everywhere,” he tells you bluntly when you walk in the back of the shop, and you laugh.

“Well, it got everywhere,” you reply, trying to rub some off your face, and it’s Jin’s turn to laugh when you fail miserably.

You know you shouldn’t do it, but you gather a small handful of flour from the table, and throw it at him. A good chunk hangs in the air and makes you cough, but the rest does land on his apron. His mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape and you know you’ve messed up.

“Listen, I am so sorry—”

“No you’re not,” he says, taking a step towards you. His hand is on the table, which is covered with flour, and you swallow.

“Sure I am, Jin, please—”

But your pleas fall in deaf ears, and flour is soon flying your way. It’s your turn to stare at Jin in disbelief, and then you’re laughing, loud and clear.

Maybe that’s the exact moment when the two of you become friends — really friends.

Or maybe it’s seconds later, when the room you’re in turns into the scene for an all-out flour battle. Regardless, you’re laughing the whole way through, when you’re not choking on the flour hanging in the air. Jin’s laughter is quieter than yours, miles away from the booming and somewhat fake laugh you’re used to hearing from him.

The fight only escalates when Jin picks up an egg. You shake your head, mouth ‘no’, but he doesn’t listen, and after that, things get a lot messier. By the time the two of you, exhausted and bent in half because of how much you’ve been laughing, finally stop, you can feel yoke trickling down your back, and you know the sight can’t be pretty. Jin reaches out to you in a useless attempt to wipe some flour from your face, only to laugh more when it, of course, fails once more.

You try not to think about the jolt of electricity that ran through you when his fingers came in contact with your cheek.

“I’ll clean up in here,” he tells you, “but you should go take a shower upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, surprised. Suddenly, you’re very conscious of the fact that you don’t know him that well. In recent months, you’ve talked to him more than you do with your close friends, and you did just throw several eggs at him, but you don’t know him. You’re aware of the fact that he lives above the shop, but you’ve never been there. The two of you have never even exchanged numbers.

He makes dramatic hand gestures to signal you to get away, like you’re bothering him, and you leave with a last laugh. You don’t notice the way he looks up when you do, or the way it makes him smile. He can’t help it, he just loves that he makes you laugh.

You’re relieved to step into the shower, both because you’re happy to clean up and because there was something really awkward about being in Seokjin’s apartment for the first time, alone. The place was not quite as decorated as the bakery was, with paler colors. Walking through it, you had noticed big speakers, some books in a shelf, and a couple of cute plushes that you had had to resist not to fawn over. The place worked for him, you had decided. It was more understated than you would have expected when you had just started to know him, but it doesn’t surprise you anymore. Jin tends to be quiet when he doesn’t have to be ‘on’, and it’s something he doesn’t seem to feel he has to do around you anymore.

You sigh in pleasure when the hot water hits you, close your eyes. You’ve been craving it for hours now — long before the food battle with Jin. It helps relax your aching muscles, washes away all the sweat from the day, and you have to resist not to just let yourself fall down onto the floor. Your back hurts, but the worst part has to be your feet. You feel yourself gaining a lot more appreciation for Jin and Jungkook, who are always kind, smiling and polite despite all of this. The only thing that kept you from biting someone’s head off tonight was your crippling anxiety when it comes to interacting with strangers.

It’s almost funny now to think you used to feel that way around Jin.

You look around for some soap you could use, and in your search, you’re surprised to find shampoo that was definitely intended for a woman. You don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s no wonder that Jin would have a girlfriend, really, it’s the opposite that should shock you, but you still didn’t expect it. You force away the pinch in your chest. Jin is a new friend, you can’t have your heart fluttering like that.

You consider using it for half a second, before deciding that it would be very awkward if you came out smelling like his girlfriend. Instead, you do your best to get rid of any egg, and tell yourself you’ll wash your hair at home. You barely hear the sound of the door opening and closing over the water, and you’re startled by Jin’s voice outside the bathroom.

“You can take a towel from the chest of drawers,” he tells you, “and I’ll leave a shirt outside, if you want it.”

“Thank you!” you shout back.

Seokjin stands there a few seconds, before quickly shaking his head and walking away. He knows his ears are turning red, and he hates himself for it, but is it his fault, really? Is he supposed not to think about you, right now, in his shower, water running down your body? He never even thought to pretend he was that innocent.

He occupies himself by preparing a drink for the two of you, and then by cleaning around. He’s not particularly messy, though, and there isn’t much to do, so he ends up sitting on his couch, feeling awkward in his own house, and scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He freezes again when he hears the bathroom door open and close, guessing you’re picking up his shirt. Which means you’re— God what is wrong with him tonight? When did he regress to the state of a hormonal teenager?

He hopes he looks natural when you come out, because he’s doing his best for that. The nervous way he’s running his hands over his thighs would probably give him out, though, if you weren’t feeling just as stressed as him.

“I’m done,” you mumble, your shyness coming back, which you decide is to be expected in that situation.

It vanishes the second Jin looks you over and snorts.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, glancing down, and immediately you know that you’re probably ridiculous in his black shirt. It looks like it’s swallowing you whole. “It’s not my fault if your shoulders are that broad,” you pout.

“You look so small,” Jin chuckles. He sounds endeared, and if you noticed that sort of things, you would absolutely realize that his eyes linger on you in his clothes fondly — and a little longer than necessary.

“Want something to drink?” he asks, gesturing at the stuff he got out of the fridge when he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Sure,” you smile, letting yourself fall down on the couch next to him and pouring yourself a glass. The brief awkwardness that washed over you when you came in vanishes already, because of how comfortable you feel around Jin. He’s always been good at making you feel that way, and now he doesn’t even have to try.

“So, how did you find your day?” he asks you, and you look at him, surprised by his tone. He sounds quiet, cautious almost, like he’s worried about what your reaction might be, or that he could be bothering you.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. “I can’t say I’d want to do it again— When is Jungkook coming back?”

Jin chuckles, and again, it takes you by surprise. It’s so… quiet. So discreet, compared to his usual attitude.

“He should be there tomorrow, don’t worry about it.” Then, he grimaces. “But seriously, thank you for helping out today. I owe you.”

“Yes you do,” you say with a grin, bumping your shoulder against his, trying to lift the mood a little, because he sounds genuinely worried. “Just offer me the tea next time, and I’ll consider us even.”

Finally, a smile forms on his lips, and he shakes his head dramatically, putting his hand over his heart.

“No, I don't think I could ever repay you,” he says, and you laugh at his antics, like you always do. He looks a little appeased by that, and that’s a relief. “Your back must hurt,” he says. “Turn around.”

You raise an eyebrow, but do as he says, startling when his hands fall on your shoulders. They’re large, engulfing you easily, but they also move gently as he slowly massages you.

“Oh,” you gasp, leaning back into him. This is— good. This is very very good. For a few minutes — or maybe much longer, you couldn’t tell — you just stay there, eyes closed, lips parted, focused on the delicious feelings of his hands gently rubbing all the pain and soreness of the day away. When he stops, it takes you a few seconds to come back down to reality, and maybe, just maybe you miss the feeling of his hands. “Oh,” you repeat, rolling your shoulders slowly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Jin says. “It’s kind of my fault.”

You turn around, shaking your head.

“Seokjin,” you say. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind helping.”

“You’re too kind,” he frowns. “You shouldn’t let people take advantage of that.”

“I’m not!”

Then Jin smiles, in a way that only lifts one corner of his lips, and suddenly you feel— you’re not too sure. Something seems to melt inside you, something moves in your stomach like you’re free falling. You probably should recognize the feeling. It’s not like it’s anything new to you, and yet you miss it. You do something you almost never do in that situation, and you take a step back. You glance up from his lips, shoot him a smile, and get up from the couch.

“It’s getting late,” you comment. “I really need to go home.”

Jin is on his feet immediately.

“I’ll walk you back,” he says, concern flashing in his eyes.

“I’m good. It’s not that far and I need to clear my head after, you know, everything today.” You’re not sure you know, but Jin nods, though a little reluctantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Very.”

He sighs. He doesn’t seem too pleased about it, but you guess he doesn’t want to insist too much, either.

“Give me your phone,” he says, and when you hand it to him, he types his number in, pouting as he explains himself to you. “Text me when you get home, alright? Otherwise I’ll just worry all night, because everyone is so unreasonable, and just wants me to lose sleep, and—”

You take your phone back from him with a laugh.

“I’ll text you,” you promise, briefly putting your hand over his. That feels— normal, you decide. It’s not like your hands have never brushed in the months since you’ve started frequenting the bakery. It just feels fine, and whatever there was before could just be a false alert. But then Jin looks into your eyes, and the feeling comes back.

“You better.”

You practically flee the bakery. You’re trying to make sense of the whole thing in your head, and it doesn’t go over great. You let Jin know you got home safe, and then do your best to push the whole thing out of your mind when you go to bed. You refuse to think about it too much. Not because you don’t understand what’s going on, but because somewhere, deep down, you do. This isn’t— this isn’t something you do. You fall hard and fast, that’s— that’s your thing.

Sometimes it’s nice, others it’s disappointing, but most importantly, it means that when the relationship is over, your life just goes back to what it was before. It you ever had feelings for a friend, someone you’re so used to having around… You’re sure it would truly break your heart.

July 15th

Summer is horribly hot this year. Fortunately for you, your favorite bakery has started serving ice cream. There is air conditioning in the store, but with the door constantly opening and closing, gusts of hot air regularly reach even you. No one seems too happy with the situation, with Jungkook seeming to slowly come apart under the temperature. Even Namjoon has abandoned ship, leaving much earlier than usual today. He waved at you when he got out, and you waved back.

Who knew, maybe the two of you would actually talk next time.

Jin uses a lull in the otherwise busy afternoon to drop at your table, and you smile to him. You haven’t really gone through anything like that night ever since, and you decided it was just a one time thing. You were tired from the work, and you were touch-starved, and, surely, there was nothing there, other than you gaining a new friend.

Yup. Nothing to see at all. Even when he’s sitting next to you, trying to fan himself with one of the bakery’s menus, head thrown back in a way that makes his Adam’s apple even more prominent.

You never thought yourself as someone who particularly enjoyed necks, but it seems you were wrong.

Not that that has anything to do with feelings, of course. Jin’s just hot. You already knew that.

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s your favorite cake?” he asks you.

It takes you just a second too long to answer.

“Uh. Anything that has strawberries in it, I guess,” you say, and he nods, but he’s also frowning. “Are my tastes not up to par?” you grin, raising an eyebrow.

“Clearly, your tastes are great, since you keep coming back,” Jin answers immediately, with the confidence that you now know to be mostly facade, but that you’ve still come to love. “No, strawberries are good. I can work with strawberries.”

“I actually wanted strawberries the first time I came here,” you reminisce. “But there weren’t any left because that was after Valentine’s Day.”

Jin clicks his tongue in disgust.

“Worst day of the year,” he says, “though February is a bad month for strawberries in general.”

“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?” you ask, and if you were a dog, your ears would be perking up with interest. You’ve always loved to hear people’s opinion on the holiday, because it’s so divisive. “You guys must make quite a lot of money…”

“I’m wounded that you’d think money is all I care about,” Jin sighs dramatically, though the glint in his eyes lets you know that he’s only joking. “It’s just very busy,” he admits. “It’s a lot of work to prepare, people place a lot of orders, and we basically don’t get a minute to ourselves. Not to mention— do you know what it does to a person to know that the food he lovingly prepared is probably going to be eaten off someone’s body?”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing. When you do, you’re completely unaware of the fond way Jin looks at you. He’s always liked that he made you laugh, from the very first day you came into the store.

“No,” you admit, “no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well I have to.”

“I’m so sorry for you.”

“I’m sorry for me too.”

Then Jimin practically waltzes in and energetically greets everyone in the room, including you, and Jin gets up to serve him and Taehyung because Jungkook looks like he’s about to collapse, and you don’t give much more thought to the conversation.

But Jin remembers that strawberry cake is your favorite.

September 18th

Somehow, you get roped into helping Jin with his grocery shopping. He sat at your table and complained about how Jungkook wouldn’t be able to help him that week, and you voiced your sympathy, and next thing you knew, you were in the supermarket with him.

Well, maybe you’d offered your help. Maybe you just didn’t want to admit it because of that time he’d told you you were too kind.

“You know, I thought I’d be helping you for the bakery,” you comment, “but this mostly looks like it’s for you.”

“I am the bakery,” Jin replies, and you grin.

You watch him as he carefully crosses item after item of his detailed list. You expected him to be messy, to grab whatever he wanted, but he is as meticulous with this as he is with the baking he does for his customers. Which is— strangely endearing to you.

“Most of what we get comes in bigger orders,” he explains to you once he’s done with that aisle. “Sometimes, we find ourselves missing some things…”

“Like milk.”

“It’s always the milk,” he sighs, shaking his head it brings back bad memories. “But that’s not an issue for a lot of thing, unless something very specific comes up. Like a customer wanting  a pineapple pie.”

You tilt your head as he cautiously picks pineapples. You’re not even sure how you can tell if a pineapple is ripe, but he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“That sounds… interesting?”

“It’s going to sound very interesting when I’ll make you carry half the bags,” Jin says, and you roll your eyes. Does he think you’re going to bail on him? You would never do that.

Well. Until your eyes fall on Minho, standing there, like he hasn’t simply vanished from your life six months ago. There’s a woman with him, and she’s laughing at something he said. You suppose she was the one he met — or maybe another one, there’s no way of knowing, really. But they look like they’re getting along well, and it— it makes you happy. You think.

“Huh,” you mumble. “That’s my ex over there.”

Jin looks up so fast you worry he might hurt his neck.

“What? Where? Do you need me to insult him?”

You’re about to say no when Minho turns around, and his eyes meet yours. He gives you a hesitant nod, and you think that’s going to be it, but then, after a few seconds of obvious inner debate, he makes his way towards you.

Great.

“(Y/N),” he says, a bit awkwardly. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you reply softly and, much to your surprise, you mean it. You did your best not to let yourself miss him, but you suppose you did. It’s been a long time since you last saw him.

“This is, erm, this is Lisa,” he says, gesturing at the woman, who gives you a polite smile. It looks like she knows exactly who you are, and you suppose it must be uncomfortable for her as well. “My girlfriend.”

Yeah. You’d pieced that together. But then, Minho’s eyes move to Jin, and he raises an eyebrow, and you realize what he’s thinking about.

“Oh, this is—”

“Seokjin,” Jin says, extending his hand. “I’m her boyfriend.”

You’re sure that anyone looking at you can tell from your expression, from the way your mouth falls open and from the incredulous way you shake your head that that’s not true, but both Minho and Lisa are looking at him, and miss it completely. When Jin looks at you, he gives an imperceptible nod and puts an arm around your shoulders.

The warmth is— kind of nice. Maybe it even sends a shiver down your back, but you’re sure it’s because you’re still quite touch-starved those days.

Nothing else here.

“That’s great,” Minho says, and he looks relieved. “It’s great that you’re with someone.”

“Isn’t it?” Jin says before you can think of anything to answer to that. “She walked into my bakery and I just knew she would become my favorite client. Basically love at first sight.”

“Love at first sale, maybe,” you can’t help but answer, even if you know, reasonably, that you shouldn’t entertain him. You’re pretty sure he’s trying to show off in front of the two, which is really unnecessary, but you appreciate the gesture. “Jin makes the best cakes you can find in the whole town,” you tell them. Not to show off, but because it’s true. There are a lot of good things you could tell them about Jin, come to think of it. A lot.

“Maybe we should try it then,” Lisa says, smiling. She looks more relaxed than earlier, though you suppose she could also just be trying to get out of this conversation.

“Oh, it’s a must,” you reply sincerely, and Jin laughs, pulling you against his chest a little.

“She’s too nice,” he says, and you immediately protest that no, definitely not, he does, and you’re sure you look like a very annoying couple, because it doesn’t take long for Minho to clear his throat.

“Well, we have to go but it was— it was nice catching up with you.”

“Same,” you nod, and when he leaves, you can’t help but watch him. You don’t really feel anything right now. You were sincerely happy to see him, but it felt like running into a childhood friend you haven’t seen in a long, long time, and now have nothing in common with outside of those memories. Except it hasn’t been a life time since you last met him. Just a little over six months. Soon, he’ll just be someone you used to know.

You wish you were more upset by this. You wish there was anything that told you that what you had with him actually mattered. Instead, this vague indifference lets you know that your paths had probably diverged before the two of you even broke up. And that makes you kind of sad.

“Are you okay?” Jin asks. He has that quiet voice you’ve heard a few times now.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “but you really didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t— Minho and I aren’t— there really was no need.”

“I was happy to do it,” Jin says, and you notice how petty he sounds. “It’s always a joy to let an ex see how much better than them you’re doing.”

You laugh. You probably agree with him on that, but you’re not going to help feed his ego even more. Jungkook would probably never forgive you for it.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like you doing that,” you observe, and Jin answers that remark with a blank stare.

“When have I ever said anything about a girlfriend?”

“Well, there was a bottle of shampoo at your place that—”

“So a guy can’t like having his hair smell like fruit, huh?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Wow, way to reinforce stereotypes, (Y/N). I expected more of you.”

He ignores your attempts at protesting and strides away from you. It takes you a few moments to catch up, because of his stupid long legs of his.

“If I had a girlfriend, I would never stop talking about her,” he lets you know while you’re catching your breath. “So don’t worry. You’ll know about it.”

“Duly noted,” you say. You maybe feel a little too happy about that new information so, to distract yourself from it, you change the subject. “So I’m your favorite customer?”

He scoffs and glances away from you, refusing to meet your eyes. He thought you hadn’t picked up on that.

“You’re a strong contestant, I guess,” he says reluctantly, and you laugh, not pushing it further.

“Anyway— Minho broke up with me a week Valentine’s Day,” you say. You’re not sure why. Maybe to let Jin that you’ve been over it for a long time.

“That’s rude,” Jin comments with a disapproving click of his tongue.

“He probably wanted to spend it with her,” you shrug. “When we got together, he told me he didn’t cheat. He left. So— I guess that was it.” Then there’s a laugh, and you can’t tell if it sounds bitter. You hope not. “I’ve actually never had a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day,” you confess.

The silence that follows is unusual for Jin. When you glance up at him, he’s just looking at you, and for a second, you think it’s pity you find in his eyes. But, from the way he frowns, you realize it could just be genuine sympathy.

“Would it make you feel better if I tell you it’s a terrible holiday that’s just there to sell things?”

“I already know that,” you chuckle, even if it does make you feel a little better. “I just want someone to buy me roses once, you know?”

Jin doesn’t answer, just looks at you, and something about the intensity of his stare makes you feel— feel things you told yourself you weren’t feeling for him. But then, you just ran into Minho, didn’t you? It makes sense that you would be all over the place emotionally.

“Anything more on your list?” you ask, and Jin blinks.

“Yeah, that way,” he says, sounding a bit off, but then he adds “More things for you to carry,” and you decide to brush it off.

But he stores the information in his mind. Strawberry cake and roses. Duly noted.

October 31st

“So do you actually like Halloween, or is this just another shameless cash grab for you?” you ask Jin when he brings you your tea.

You have to admit, him and Jungkook truly went all out for this. They’ve decorated the shop with pumpkins, and there are fake bats hanging from the ceiling. There are also themed cakes and chocolates shaped like spiders. It’s spooky, and it delights the kids that come in and ask the parents about it. You definitely appreciate the atmosphere it creates — and you also appreciate the way Hoseok jumped when he walked in front of the witch that lets out an evil laugh when someone passes the movement detector.

“Halloween is not terrible, I guess,” Jin says, like him and Jungkook don’t take a full day out of their schedules and bring in some friends just to decorate the shop. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you answer sincerely, and Jin’s expression softens.

“Hey, we’re having a small get-together after closing tonight,” he tells you spontaneously. “Wanna join us?”

You take a second to answer. It’s not like you don’t want to — far from that — but there’s that voice inside of you that tells you that you’ve been weird around Jin, and you don’t want to be weird around him. You want to keep things as they are, because he’s such a wonderful friend to have around. You’d hate yourself if you changed that.

But if the point is to have him around, then surely, telling him no right now would be counter-productive, right?

“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and Jin beams, and you feel all warmed-up inside.

You already know that you’ll have fun, and you’ll laugh, and he’ll insist on walking you him and you’ll tell him no. And it sounds exactly like how you want to spend your evening.

January 10th

You first meet Sungho on New Year’s Eve, at Hana’s party. The two of you click immediately, and you enjoy the familiar rush of feelings, the waiting for a text after you’ve given him your number, the anticipation of knowing where this is all leading, if everything goes right. After a week, you run into him at the bakery, or, well, you’re sitting in your usual corner when he comes in. He doesn’t see you immediately, but when he looks in your direction after a little while, you happily wave him over.

“You don’t usually come here, do you?” you ask him. “I would have seen you by now if you were a regular.”

He chuckles, flashes you a bright smile, and you smile in return. Sungho has a nice smile. He doesn’t laugh easily, though, from what you saw when you met him, which is a shame, but definitely not a dealbreaker, even if you love to hear people laugh.

“No, I saw you were talking about this place a lot online, and I figured I would come and check it out. Of course, seeing you here is the best part,” he adds with a wink, and he leans towards you a little. The obvious flirtation sends a wave of heat through your chest, and you don’t hesitate to lean forward as well, resting your elbow on the table and putting your chin on your hand. You enjoy the closeness, the proximity, the chase.

You pull away when Jin arrives with Sungho’s order.

“This looks great,” Sungho comments. “I’m glad (Y/N) advertised you so much.”

“Well, there’s a reason she’s our favorite customer,” Jin replies, smiling, and when you meet his eyes, they’re fond and— and something else that makes it hard to breathe for a second.

But the smile fades when Sungho takes a portion of his cake with the spoon and offers it to you.

“Wanna try it?” he asks, and you do, because you know everything Jin makes will be amazing. You’re not sure you love the gesture itself — it’s kind of cute, but you’ve also just met him and it feels a bit strange — but you still giggle and take the bite.

And all Jin can do is stand there, looking at the two of you. He feels something he has felt before, and it’s that he let something he wanted pass him by. He waited too long to make a move, once again, and once again, it’s cost him something he doesn’t know how he’ll live without, and now he’ll have no choice but to figure it out.

You glance up, and he catches himself, plastering a smile on his lips.

“Enjoy yourselves!” he says, a little too loudly, and he knows, from the way you blink and the puzzled look you give him, that you’ve noticed and it’s— it’s horrible. It’s horrible that you know him that well and that you’ve seen so many facets of him and you’ve chosen someone else. You don’t ask anything, though, and he’s quick to leave.

He’s also quick to ask Jungkook to replace him in the shop, and he, very deliberately, doesn’t ask anything about how things went. Doesn’t want to know if you kissed, or worse, if you left together.

He’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t been through before.

February 5th

You feel impossibly excited when Sungho asks you out for Valentine’s Day. You gush about it to your friends, a lot, and Hana is delighted for you — and very pleased that her circles of friends are meeting like that. Jungkook sounds happy, too, though slightly more reserved, but you get the type of enthusiasm you wanted from Jimin and Taehyung.

Jin gets quiet when you let him know, though. It’s not something you haven’t seen before, but it does take you off guard, because you’ve never seen it happen while in the shop, where he’s usually on top of his game.

“Are you okay?” you ask, worried, leaning over the counter to put a hand on his arm. “You look a little under the weather these days.”

He smiles, but it lacks his usual flamboyance.

“Valentine’s Day is coming,” he tells you. “The worst day of the year.”

You laugh at that, relax, and take your hand off. You miss the way his eyes fall on the place you were just touching.

“Well, not this year, hopefully. Not this year.”

Yeah. He’s not so sure about that.

February 14th

It’s your first time, ever, having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you’re determined to do everything right. Sungho is taking you to a fancy restaurant, so you decide there is no issue in going all out. You take the day to prepare yourself, enlist Hana to do your make-up and hair, and you use the opportunity to wear a lovely bright red dress that you had been saving for a special occasion.

Hana whistles when you come out of your room after you’ve also put on half-transparent black tights.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she says with an appreciative nod.

You glance down at your body self-consciously and try to smooth the fabric of the dress. You do think it looks pretty good, but you could be wrong. Does it show too much of your legs? Does it hug your curves too tightly?

“You think he’s going to like it?” you ask, somewhat shyly.

“He should if he knows what’s good for him,” she replies, expression turning murderous, before softening. “Just… Are you sure you want to be doing that?”

You give her a confused look.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, going out with Sungho,” she says with a vague hand gesture. “I just— I don’t know. Do you like him that much?”

It’s funny. You haven’t really asked yourself that question. You’ve just been going through all the usual motions — the flirting, the dates, and, inevitably, the start of the relationship, which is probably for tonight.

“We— we get along fine,” you answer. “I like him.”

You leave the words ‘well enough’ out of that sentence. You like Sungho well enough. But then, that’s always been good enough for you, so why should it change now?

Hana seems to think about it for a little while, then shrugs.

“Okay then. Do you need my help to walk to the cab? I would not trust these things.”

She’s pointing at your heels, and it makes you laugh. These aren’t even that high, and they’re pretty stable. You don’t think you’ll have any trouble walking in them. Hana wouldn’t abandon her flat shoes to save her life, though, so you suppose the question was to be expected.

“You can just tell me if you want to hold my arm,” you tease, and it seems to take her by surprise, before she chuckles.

“You’ve gotten a little too good at that. I don’t know if I like it.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid Jin has infected me.”

That gives her pause, and she shoots you a weird look, but you miss it. She opens her mouth to say something, then gives up. She could be wrong, after all.

She kind of hopes she’s wrong, or that if she’s right, you’ll realize it soon enough.

The dinner is perfect. You’re dressed perfectly for the occasion, fitting right in the restaurant’s decor, Sungho complimented you when you walked in and you told him he looked great, which is true, the food is delicious, the conversation flows easily, and there are roses on the table. They’re not for you, part of the decoration, and it doesn’t look like Sungho’s gotten you any, which gives you just a little pinch of disappointment in your chest, but it’s also not a big deal. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

And you’re not happy with it.

You can’t place it, and it slowly drives you insane, as you and Sungho make your way through the meal. You try your best not to let it show, but you think he notices your increasing restlessness. You feel bad about it, because really, he hasn’t done anything wrong. You just— something’s not right.

Dammit. It’s your first time having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you can’t make it work.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Sungho says while the two of you are waiting for your desert, and you do your best to snap out of whatever is going on in your head to focus on him.

“Tell me,” you smile, though the smile is polite, rather than genuine.

He takes a deep breath and reaches over the table to take your hand. It’s far from the first time the two of you make physical contact, you’ve even kissed a few times, and it was nice, but something makes you want to recoil, in that moment. You don’t, though. Why would you? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about you makes sense right now.

“I like you,” he says, and you find the breath knocked out of you. It’s not unpleasant, though, it’s very nice in fact, and it almost completely dissipates your previous discomfort. “And I think— you know. We haven’t said anything about being exclusive yet, so I figured I’d— ask.”

He looks pretty confident, which you thought would put you off, but it doesn’t. The answer seems obvious to you. It’s been just a little over a year since you broke up with Minho, which is a reasonable time, so your lips part to let him know that you’d be happy to—

It’s then that you remember. You remember what you told yourself after that break-up, and what you thought after the break-up before that, and the time before as well. You remember you told yourself you wouldn’t settle for less than what you really wanted. You told yourself you wanted to love and be loved. You told yourself you wanted someone who’d remember how you liked your tea.

And, just like in a movie, Jin’s face appears in your mind. You almost dismiss it, tell yourself it’s just because of the tea, until you realize it’s not. It just isn’t. You should have noticed earlier, you know that, but you’ve never been friends with someone before developing feelings for them. You’ve always told yourself you were an ‘all or nothing’ kind of person, that you were the type to know immediately if things could happen. Maybe you didn’t quite believe in love at first sight, but you’d always thought that love didn’t wait.

Apparently you were wrong.

Jin’s the one who inadvertently makes you pulse rush, when his hand brushes against you. Jin’s the one who lifts your spirits, no matter what. Jin makes you happy, makes you want to get up in the morning, has done that for months now. Jin actually knows you. Jin looks at you like you’re precious to him. Maybe that doesn’t mean love, maybe to him, it’s all just friendship, but to you, it’s much more than that. And the feeling you get is so strong, so powerful, that you understand that you need to tell him. Need to tell him now.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Sungho, who’s been waiting for an answer all this time. “I’m really sorry, I don’t think that can work out.”

His face falls, but he looks far from heartbroken.

“Oh,” he says. “Um. That’s—”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, already getting up from your chair. You’re buzzing with excitement, with feelings. “I have to go. I’ll pay for the meal, okay?”

“No, don’t—”

“Sorry!”

You stop at the counter briefly before rushing out into the night. You feel that you know exactly where you need to be.

You get to the bakery minutes before closing time, which is exceptionally at 9 p.m. for the day. A couple is just coming out, and that leaves only Jungkook inside. There’s nothing left on display, and you know it’s been impossibly busy, which means Jin is probably in a bad mood, but you can’t wait until tomorrow. When you walk in, Jungkook looks up from behind the counter, clearly surprised by the sound of someone coming in that late, and a puzzled look settles on his face when he notices that you’re out of breath, your previously perfect make-up now looking a little worse for wear.

“Is everything alright?” he asks. He sounds worried, and any other day you would take the time to reassure him, but in that moment you’re pushed by an energy that can’t be stopped, so you just nod quickly as an answer.

“Is Jin here?”

“In the back,” he says, tilting his head in that direction, and you’re pretty sure a glint of understanding lights up in his eyes.

“Can I….?”

He nods, a grin on his lips, and now you’re sure he knows why you’re here. You don’t wait for him to tease you about it, quick to make your way past him.

You freeze the second you walk into the backroom, though. It’s not just because of Jin’s back, though that definitely has more of an effect on you than you’d like to admit — the broad shoulders, the muscular back, and inexplicably, the nape of his neck. It’s also because of the large bouquet of red roses, standing in a vase on the table next to him. Your breath catches in your throat as you look at them. They look beautiful, vibrant, their fragrance floating through the room, all the way to you.

“Who are the roses for?” you ask, making Jin jump.

Any other time, you would have been pleased to take him by surprise for once, but right now you’re hanging on his words, waiting for an answer. The air feels heavy between you, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t answer immediately, swallowing silently as his eyes travel over your body. You had almost forgotten about the dress you were wearing, and, instead of making you feel comfortable and confident, like it had earlier, you feel naked and vulnerable under his gaze.

Finally, his eyes meet yours, mouth slightly open, and by that point your heart is hammering in your chest. You wonder if he has any idea of how you’re feeling right now. Had he noticed your feelings when even you weren’t aware of them?

“What?” he croaks, voice dry, like he’s forgotten what you said.

“The roses,” you repeat. “Who are they for?”

You need an answer. Desperately.

Jin’s eyes move to the roses, and his face falls. He turns his back to you again as he goes back to whatever he’s cleaning.

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?”

You shrug, though he can’t see it.

“I broke things off with him,” you say lightly, and you don’t miss the way his movements pause, or the way his shoulders tighten, for half a second, before he keeps moving. “Are you— are you meeting someone?”

“No,” he protests immediately. “You know I don’t believe in Valentine’s day.”

You do. You remember that. So you wait for an explanation. It takes a while, and you just wait silently behind him, suspecting that he’s waiting for you to go away. After a few minutes, though, he slams his hand on the table, still not looking at you.

“They’re for you, okay? You said you’d always wanted roses for Valentine’s Day, and I figured, maybe your stupid boyfriend didn’t know that yet, and that I could maybe just drop them off at your place, and—”

“You didn’t ask me why I broke up with him,” you interrupt him, cutting his rambling short, and he falls silent. You catch his eyes from over his shoulder. Finally, you’re feeling yourself calm down, and at the same time you’re practically shaking with anticipation. “I realized I had feelings for someone else,” you say when he still doesn’t ask, just watching you, lips tight.

“…You do?” he simply says in reply. He’s tense, guarded, and you take a careful step towards him.

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes aren’t leaving his, not even for a second. “He’s smart, and kind, and handsome.” You take a step for each description you give, and you can’t help but smile on the last word. But your smile doesn’t reach Jin’s lips, and he’s just looking at you like he’s expecting you to tell him someone else’s name, or to make fun of him. “And he makes me laugh,” you add quietly, as you get to him, leaning against the table. “A lot. Some have even said it was a little too much.”

“So who is he?” he asks, and you smile. It’s wild to you that you haven’t understood earlier how absolutely head over heels in love with him you are, especially right now, when you’re standing so close to him. It’s also wild that he can’t see it, because you feel as though you’re radiating with that emotion, feel that anyone should be able to tell.

“It’s you,” you breathe out. “It’s obviously you.”

Then you’re pushing yourself up against his mouth, soft and slow. One of his hands closes around your waist as he leans forward, towering over you. His eyes are shut, and you close your own, reveling in the feeling of his warm body pressed against your own. You feel his tongue darting out to brush against your lips, and they part to grant him access, eager to taste all of him and—

“Couldn’t you tell me that earlier?” Jin protests loudly, tearing himself away from you, and your eyes snap open. “I would have planned the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever—”

You groan and cut him off with another kiss, faster and harder this time, grabbing his wrists to guide his hands to your hips. You moan in contentment into his mouth when he kisses you back and he swallows it eagerly, pressing you into the table, bodies meeting like they’ve been waiting for it for forever and you—

“I wanted to make you an amazing strawberry cake! Now I don’t have any strawberries left!”

“Jin, please,” you sigh, unable to tolerate any other interruption, “would you just shut up and kiss me?”

And, finally, he does. Holds you like he never wants to let you go, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, and when the two of you part, he rests his forehead against yours like he can’t bear the thought of being away from you even for a second. The silent stretches, comfortable, only filled with your respirations, until someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump away from each other.

“Sorry,”Jungkook says with a shit-eating grin that tells you he’s not sorry at all, “but I was about to leave. Will the two of you be okay?”

“I’m sure we can work things out without you,” Jin says. “Goodbye!”

But Jungkook doesn’t leave right away, turning his smile to you. You would hide into Jin’s shoulder, but you feel so good you can’t be bothered right now.

“Goodbye (Y/N)!”

“Bye, Jungkook!”

“That kid, I swear,” Jin says, shaking his head, as Jungkook leaves, his laugh hanging in the air behind him for a few seconds.

“I quite like him,” you comment, fingers dancing down Jin’s neck to come trace the border of his shirt.

“Oh, you do?” There is a dangerous edge to his tone and you glance up, surprised.

“Are you jealous?” you ask. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I’m not.”

“Because it’s not Jungkook I abandoned my date for.”

“Good that you did. I never liked him.”

“So you are jealous.”

Seokjin mumbles something incomprehensible and you laugh and hug him tighter. And when he asks you if you want to come upstairs, even if he doesn’t have the perfect Valentine’s Day dinner planned, even if really, all he has to offer is himself, you tell him yes, of course.

Because he’s all you want right now.

It turns out, you wouldn’t have eaten the dinner anyway. The second the door closes behind you, you’re pulling him down against you for a kiss, and he doesn’t oppose any resistance, doesn’t protest like he did before, just lets out a moan into your mouth. He’s just as eager as you are to get rid of that tight dress.

“Careful with the tights,” you warn when his hands start roaming your thighs.

“Take them off then,” he groans.

You press a few kisses against his mouth, feeling delighted with the way he restrains himself, hands turning into fists against your hips as he stops himself from tearing off your closes. Finally, you pull away with a giggle. His eyes are wide and dark with desire, and they only get wider when you playfully slide off your dress’ strap.

“Don’t tease,” he says, practically growls, but you decide that you will. You guide him to his couch, push him down onto it, and evade him when he tries to pull you down with him, slipping out of his grasp. You stand just out of his reach, but more than close enough to be tantalizing, and you see in his eyes that it’s working just fine.

You take the time of making a show out of sliding down your dress down your body, letting it pool down at your feet before stepping out of it. The heels are the next thing to go, and then, finally, the offending tights. The second you’re out of those, Seokjin pounces, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto the couch.

“If you want us to move this to the bedroom, now would be a good time to say it,” he says as he kisses your neck, hands traveling up and down your body, large and calloused, but kind and gentle.

“I’m good here,” you say, arching your back to grant him better access — and to roll your hips against him. “Are you good here?”

You feel his breath catching in his throat when you move, as well as something hard pressing against you in his pants, and his voice is slightly choked when he answers.

“Yeah. This would happen at some point anyway.”

You laugh. You can’t wait to try this in all the places the two of you can think of in his apartment.

“Then let’s get to it, shall we?”

Jin doesn’t seem to have anything to answer to that, especially not when you hook your leg around his, using your heel to push him down on top of you. He’s still dressed, but you plan on rectifying that. You stop kissing him to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he lets you, breathing heavily. Your fingers explore the skin you reveal in the process, and you’re delighted when he shivers as you find out where his sensitive spots are — right under his collarbone, his nipples, his ribs.

Finally, the shirt joins your dress on the floor. You take a second to marvel at his body. His shoulders are even nicer to look at like that, you decide. You capture Jin’s mouth again, this time with your hands fisting his hair. You’re feeling yourself growing more impatient, wetter, and while your panties are the only thing still covering your body, he’s still wearing pants — which is far too much clothing.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper to him, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

That makes you grin, and you arch your back into him again, pressing yourself against his now rock hard crotch.

“Oh, I think I do,” you reply devilishly, and all Jin does is to bury his head into your neck. His fast breathing tickles your skin, and you love it. You love discovering that you have that effect on him, love how you can make him come undone. Another night, you might really, really enjoy teasing him about it, but you have something else on your mind tonight.

Your hand travels down his body to palm him through his pants, and he groans, bucking his hips against it involuntarily.

“Let me take care of that?” you offer, and he pulls away to raise an eyebrow at you.

Wordlessly, you guide him so he’s sitting on the couch, and then, without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees. You watch as his eyes go wide and he swallows loudly. You don’t give him time to regain his composure, gently nudging his legs apart so you can place yourself there comfortably.

“Fuck,” he repeats as your hands travel over his thighs before unbuckling his belt.

He lifts himself off the couch so you can slide down his pants and underwear, and that leaves him in his naked glory. And boy, is he glorious, dick standing erect and proud, precum already dripping from the tip. You suppose it’s been a while since the last time he had any sort of intercourse, and so you decide that you will do everything that’s in your power to make it worth his while.

You do your best to maintain eye contact with him while you lean forward to gently take in the head of his cock, wrapping your red lips around it as your hand grips the base.

“Ah,” he gasps, and you wonder if he gets loud during sex.

You hope he does.

You mostly tease him at first, running your tongue over the tip, and you feel his hand grabbing the back of your head gently. He doesn’t try to control your pace or to push you down. He seems to just be anchoring himself as he lets you do whatever you want. Glancing up, you see that he’s thrown his head back and his mouth is hanging open, letting out quiet moans that sometimes get high-pitched.

For some reason, the sight of his exposed throat turns you on impossibly. You slide a hand down your body to try to get some relief as well, and you moan loudly when your fingers finally find your clit. The vibrations have Jin push his hips up as his hands tighten on you. A second later, his eyes snap open.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, “I don’t mind but— Do you have a condom somewhere?”

He hesitates, then reaches for the coffee table. He opens the drawer, rummages through it quickly, and finds what he’s looking for.

“Taehyung said it was good to have them all over the house, just in case,” he feels obligated to explain to you, even while he struggles to open it and to put it on.

Well, you owe Taehyung one, you decide, but now really is not the time to discuss that, so you pull him down for quick kiss before he can lose himself in his ramble.

“Want you now,” you tell him, and it sounds like an order.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, pulling you back up onto the couch.

Your panties are soon gone, and he spreads your legs open with utmost care. Even if you’re pretty sure he could just slide right in, with how wet you are, he pushes a long finger inside you, then another.

“You’re so wet for me,” he marvels. “So wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much yet,” you moan. “There’s still work to be done here.”

His eyes are full of love when he looks at you, taking in your body, now completely naked and offered. Just for him.

“Oh, I’ll do it. Don’t you worry about that.”

You’re about to call him out for his cockiness when he lines his cock with your entrance, tip rubbing against your folds, and you close your mouth instead, wisely choosing not to provoke him when he could so easily make you pay for it by making you wait. Except it seems he’s just as impatient as you, because he pushes himself inside you without pause.

You moan and shift to accommodate the stretch, and Seokjin goes still on top of you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You’re satisfied with the strain in his voice, like knowing you’re not the only one to be so affected here.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Can you— move? A little?”

He pulls out a little, experimentally, and you moan louder than before. It takes you a few minutes to figure out the pace, as your hips keep moving, desperately searching for more friction, but they’re not unpleasant, filled with kisses, sweet nothings and the feeling of his warm skin against yours. In those moments, you feel like you’re discovering him all over again, and you find yourself enjoying that more than you can say.

Finally, you find yourselves, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with your loud, high-pitches moans, and Seokjin’s — softer, quieter, but definitely there. You meet each of his thrusts, with one hand between the two of you to rub against your clit. When you first clench around him, he finally lets out a moan that’s as loud as yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fffuck,” he says, head falling against you, cheek pressed against your collarbone. “If you— If you do that again I’ll— Wait, please, wait, wanna— wanna cum with you—”

You arch your back, your nipples grazing against his chest, and force up the pace of your hips. Jin is moving incoherently, begging into your neck, and you want to give him exactly what he’s asking for. When you clench around him again, it’s with your orgasm. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge as well, but you barely feel his hips stutter into you, completely taken over by your own pleasure.

It takes you a little while to come back down from your high, and when you do, you meet his eyes. They’re soft and gentle, and, more than anything that’s happened until then, they make you melt.

“Hey,” he whispers, “you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, more than okay, in fact. You?”

“More than okay, too,” he says as a lazy smile spreads across his features.

“Good. That’s good.”

Pillow talk is not your forte.

“Hey,” Jin says, coming to rest his forehead against your shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You chuckle.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

“That’s good,” Jin says, but his voice sounds choked up, raspy, and you know he’s probably blushing. So you don’t add anything, just run your fingers over his scalp, the nape of his neck, down his back. Let him know you’re here, that you’ve got him, that you’re not going anywhere.

“Are you— are you staying the night?” he asks.

“Sure, unless you’re kicking me out.”

His arms tighten around you possessively.

“I would never.”

It takes a little longer before Jin manages to get the two of you off the couch to go get cleaned up, and then into bed, but of that night, there is not a second that you would call unnecessary or superfluous. Not one.

Every single one of them, every moment you spend with Jin on that first night, are essential, and you could not pick one of them to take back.

March 14th

The bell chimes happily when you walk into the shop, and even though Jin is busy with another customer, his eyes immediately find you. It’s something simple, yet it’s something you love about him. The way he always seems to find you, and the pleasant warmth that fills you without fail when you see him. You’ve been told that it was just the high of the first months of a relationship, not to get too used to it but you hope that, even if it dims, it won’t go away completely.

“Hey, Jin, your ears are turning really red. Why are your ears turning red?”

You laugh while your boyfriend turns to shoot a furious look at Yoongi. He’s sitting in your spot, in the back of the shop, and he’s looking smug. That comment of his has become a pretty common thing to hear whenever you walk in, or just when Jin and you are speaking. To be completely honest, you’re not too mad about it. Jin is good at acting like you have no effect on him, but the blush betrays him, and it’s been both cute and useful to see what actually gets to him, or bothers him sometimes.

“I’ll kick you out of my shop if you keep that up!” Jin shouts at him. “Don’t think I won’t!”

But Yoongi just chuckles into his mug, clearly not taking him seriously — and he’s probably right for that.

“So, do you know what today is?” Jin asks nonchalantly after he’s turned back to face you, gesturing for Jungkook take over with the other customer.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“Please don’t tell me you want us to celebrate our one month anniversary. I haven’t planned anything for that.”

Jin rolls his eyes.

“I would argue that our one-month anniversary is tomorrow, if we’re being precise, because that’s when we, um, really talked about it.”

He’s not wrong. It had been a pleasant thing, to wake up in his arms the morning after, to the sensation of his lips gently kissing your neck, and an even nicer thing to take your breakfast with him. You couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. It had just been what had absolutely and irrevocably sealed the  deal for you. You knew it hadn’t been a mistake. You wanted to be with him.

“Hmm, but there is still some sort of anniversary to be celebrated tonight then,” you say, leaning over the counter. “I’m sure I could prepare something for that.”

His ears and neck flush, and Yoongi has the delicacy of not pointing it out this time.

“That’s not— That’s not what I’m talking about! Today is the white day.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s when boys are supposed to give chocolates back to the girls they like,” Jin elaborates.

“But I didn’t give you chocolates,” you say.

“No, but you’re still the one who— Yoongi, I swear to God— You know. You’re the one who took the first step.”

Despite his recent outburst, it’s obvious that he feels embarrassed and vulnerable in that moment. You’d kind of gathered that he really regretted not asking you out before Sungho had, but you had never thought that it was actually an issue.

“I’m really happy I did,” you tell him quietly. He’s not fond of PDA, but you still allow your fingers to brush against his. That feels discreet enough.

“I know,” he says, and there’s so much love in his eyes when he looks at you that it’s a real miracle that you don’t melt into a puddle right then and there. “But I still—” He sighs. “You’re really ruining my plans. This was meant to go over smoothly.”

“Sorry,” you apologize with a wide grin while he picks something up from behind the counter.

“There,” he mumbles, handing you the box.

You open it, genuinely curious. You feel the eyes of everyone else in the shop — Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook and, of course, Jin — on you, and you want to tell most of them off, but you suppose that since this is where most of your relationship development happened, they’re kind of part of the story too.

The box is filled with chocolates shaped like roses.

“I know it’s not much,” Jin is quick to say, “but I just wanted to—”

“Jin?” you interrupt him.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

His eyes go wide, and then he sighs, but he can’t force away the smile that’s forcefully making its way on his lips.

“Well, if you absolutely have to—”

But he doesn’t protest when you pull him over the counter to kiss him, hands gently closing over your shoulders. He even brings you back for a second, even briefer kiss, and there’s something fierce in his eyes then. He superbly ignores the cheers that come from your friends in the room.

“I have to warn you, you’re never getting rid of me now,” he says, and it’s light-hearted, but you know there’s a lot of truth behind those words.

“Good,” you simply reply. “I wouldn’t want that for the world.”

He looks like he wants to add something to that, but he chokes on the words, and he falls quiet instead. It’s just as good, really.

There are some things you don’t need words for.

Some things that can be expressed just as easily with a box full of rose-shaped chocolates.

[atsumiye]

um, wrong number?

summary: on a night out, atsumu manages to get his next flings number. written on a flimsy napkin, they scribble a cute “call me” and their number. however, the next morning atsumu realizes the last few digits are smudged. with his superb guessing skills, he manages to guess the last 3 digits….or what he thinks is the 3 digits. so what happens when atsumu texts y/n some raunchy messages? he gets called a pervert.

masterlist ll seven ll eight ll nine

“Eichi, keep an eye out. This place is packed and I don't want to be here longer than I have to.” Akiko says as she pulls out a compact mirror to check her makeup and hair. She pulls out her lipstick and glides it across her lips and smacks her lips together. Brushing her fingers through her hair to fix any stray strands, she slams the mirror shut before placing it back in her purse.

“I'm not leaving without his number.” She says as she turns her head to look at Eichi.

Eichi gives her a small nod as she stretches her neck to look above the large crowd and around the neutral colored restaurant, before she spots a flash of bright blonde.

“I think I see him, he's towards the back with a group of guys.” She points her finger in the direction as Akiko starts to walk to the back.

She plasters a large grin on her face before she giggles out an, “Atsumu!”. The players he's speaking to look at her before turning back to Atsumu. She places her hand on his shoulder and tilts her head to meet his eyes.

“Hello…” he mumbles to her while looking back to his teammates with a questioning look.

“How have you been, baby? You never texted me so I sent you a dm but you never responded.” She bats her eyelashes at him as she looks at his confused expression.

After a few beats of silence, Atsumu's eyes widen, “Oh yer Akizo, right?”

She huffs before fake laughing, “Close, Akiko.”

“But you do remember me after all? What happened to sending me a message?”

“Ah sorry, had some….issues with the number. It was good to see ya again I guess” rubbing the back of his neck, he nods his head before he turns back towards his team members. All his team members look between the two, angry that Atsumu might be causing more problems. He remembers how his PR team begged him to not cause anymore drama- that he argued he doesn't purposely start- before the start of the new season, so he chooses to ignore the girl hanging onto him.

And he can't ignore the way his heart feels a bit weird as his mystery girl pops into his head.

Akiko huffs and she clings to his arm and brings a hand to rest on his chest, noticing the way a few people begin to pull out their phones and whisper to each other. She leans into his ear as she whispers, “Your causing a scene baby, let's exchange numbers again hm? This time, you give me your number”, she pauses dropping the smile on her face slightly, “and I'll send you a text.”

He looks down at her before placing his hand out to grab her phone and type his number in. She grabs the phone back and says “Let me just make sure it's right” she types a quick message and hearing his phone ding, sighs in satisfaction. “Make sure to answer when I text.” She flashes him a small smile and walks away towards the exit, Eichi quickly bows her head towards the table as she walks after Akiko.

----------

“Oh yer Akizo, right?” You turn your head towards Atsumu's loud voice noticing a pretty girl start to cling to him. You tsk and look back towards the plate Osamu hands you.

Before you take it, Osamu looks down at you and says “It's been three weeks since he texted you right?” You nod as he continues, “You know, there hasn't been a single day where he hasn't talked about you. Don't be jealous.”

You gasp and give him a disgusted look, “I'm not jealous! He doesn't even know my name, I just think she's a bit...weird. And I thought that the name sounded familiar to the girl he was originally supposed to text. That's all.” You snatch the plate from his hand as he begins to smile. You roll your eyes as you walk to the table, “Jealous! That's ridiculous.” You shake your head before approaching the table.

------

As the last customer walks out of the door, Osamu points to the door and tells you to turn the open sign to close. Flipping the sign and pulling down the blinds you loudly sign, “You know Osamu, you may regret hiring me but I regret accepting the job. My feet hurt.” You begin to pout before Meian comes behind you and flicks the back of your head, “Stop complaining.” You bring your hand to place it over where he flicked you and stick your tongue out at him.

“Osamu, let me know what you want me to help with.” Meian says as he begins to yawn.

“No, go home. Not only are you tired but if you stay here you'll use it against me or ask for some of my paycheck or something.” You smirk at him as he and Osamu begin to laugh. “She's right Meian, I can drive her home.” Osamu tells him as he begins to pull out a bucket of water to wipe down tables.

“Fine” he nods towards Osamu before turning towards you, “Text me that you got home safe okay?” he pulls you into a hug before ruffling your hair.

You brush down your hair and nod with a grin. “Drive safe okay?”, he smiles as he yells out a ‘goodnight’.

You turn back towards Osamu to grab a towel to start cleaning, “Y/N, after you are done with the tables, just wait here for a few minutes. Atsumu is bringing extra products from the other restaurant so he might come in.” You smile and nod as you begin to to wipe everything down and Osamu walks into his office to close the registers for the night.

Twenty minutes later, the door opens revealing an annoyed Atsumu.

“Samu! The traffic was horrible, I'm never helpin' ya again!” he yells and you begin to laugh. He turns his head to you, “Yer Y/N, right? The new girl he hired.” You nod and you can't help the smile that grows on your face at the mere fact he has no idea, “Yeah I am, it's nice to meet you Atsumu.”

“Same here.” he places the giant box on the floor behind the register as he comes back out and stares at you for a few seconds. “Yer a girl right?” you look down at yourself and meet his eyes to say “Sure?”

He drags a chair across the floor and places it in front of you, sitting backwards on the chair.

“I've got a question for ya.” You nod, allowing him to ask.

“So, how would I get a girl to tell me who she is?”

“Sorry? What does that even mean?” you furrow your eyebrows trying to decipher what he is trying to ask.

“Basically, I'm texting this girl. She knows who I am because we got mutual friends or somethin but I don't even know her name. We have spoken every day for almost four weeks and I know nothing about her.”

Osamu walks out of the office towards the two of you smiling to himself, “You forgot the best part, Tsumu. Ya sent her a nude as yer first message to her.” You and Osamu laugh as Atsumu drops his head in his hands.

“I've told ya and her that it was a mistake. Plus she moved on from it.”

You smile at him as you say, “Well, maybe she will come around. Just be respectful of the boundaries she has set up. You skipped quite a few steps by sending a nude the first time you spoke, so be understanding of that. Who knows, maybe soon she will want to tell you who she is.”

Osamu widens his eyes before smirking, “Why Tsum, ya got a crush on her?”

You feel your face heat up as Atsumu looks at the floor. “Shut up, Samu!”

Osamu smiles looking at your reactions before he says, “Alright lets get ya home Y/N. Meian will kill me if I get ya home too late.”

You both begin to stand up as Atsumu says, “Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime. I hope it works out for you guys.” You smile at him as you all walk out of the restaurant.

chapter eight- don't be jealous

riya's notes:

- i wholeheartedly believe that osamu doesn't talk with his kansai dialect until he gets around atsumu

- akiko did a lot of research into atsumu in the past few weeks, so she knew he probably wouldn't want a ton of people looking at him or to cause a scene

- y/n doesn't know if she likes atsumu, what she does know is that she cares about him a lot

- atsumu is currently planning ways to win his mystery girl over

- osamu knows his brother really well, he knows how he feels and he found it hilarious he was asking y/n how to talk to y/n....

- y/n texted meian right as she got home but he was already asleep

- pls let me know your thoughts <3333

taglist: @satorinnie @speakfrenchbetweenmythighs @tetsuhoes @namyari @tabipleats @yamstadashi @lilith412426 @haikyuuwifu @bakugouswh0r3 @royahllty @its-the-aerieljeane @schleepyflocci @riceballsandanime @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @zukoslosthishonor @blueowl51 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @windkages @unstaaableaf @sakusasimpbot @tsukkinginamo @starylust @crocigator @a-disappointing-teen-author @ysatrap @fuschiguro @sugabeaniee @art-junkie-13

[bakugohoex]

“you come here often then?” “well considering i work here, yes”

pairing: satoru gojo x female reader

cw: fluff and language

word count: 2100+

information: the great conjunction collab masterlist by @suna-reversed

a/n: ugh yeah have fun reading this, it’s probably crap because i waffled a bit and made gojo become an idiot

summary: in which gojo can’t help but have an infatuation with you as soon as he sees you through the glass window of a restaurant, now finally meeting you he can’t help but become an unaware teenager in front of you

↞ back to jujutsu kaisen masterlist

Gojo would hate to admit it but seeing the way you swerved past the customers at the restaurant was a dance in his eyes. The way you easily carried three plates on your arms and still had a calm and collected face. Even if he was a powerful jujutsu sorcerer the ability you had to still chat to people even when you were on your knees picking up the glass one of the customers happened to drop infatuated the man.

It wasn’t like he was busy, Yuji, Nobara and Megumi had decided to go out into the city and being the responsible adult he was he tagged along. Even if he had no idea where the three had gone, he had better things to watch as he stared through the window, any person inside would have noticed him. He was almost gawking but the way they either dismissed his wide mouth or genuinely couldn’t see him was an issue they could handle.

He continued watching you speak to the customers, the black blouse hugging your form as you took another order. The restaurant seemed busy, even if it was the lunch rush, the way you easily handled it with that perfect pretty smile. How could Gojo not stare at you, with those bright eyes that filled him with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it was stupid to go in, to ask for your number, he was a Jujutsu Sorcerer for one thing but the fact he didn’t even know your name would make it seem creepy.

He stook to watching through the window, occasionally going on his phone to not cause any disruption with his clear blue gaze at your form. He looked up watching how you continued to skim past customers, talk to the customers, even cooing at the babies.

Hearing a loud crash behind him, he turned to be met with the three delinquents, the three-looking confused at why Gojo had been standing all doe eyed. “What’s wrong with him?” Megumi muttered.

“He always looks like that?” Yuji was barely concentrating as some shop nearby had caught his eye.

Nobara understood where he had been looking, could see that he had seen something he wanted. Her eyes went to the restaurant seeing your form taking plates away from an empty table. “He has a crush.” Her voice was loud as the two boys whipped their heads to give a confused look, Nobara pointed through the window as both her and Yuji went straight up to the glass staring right at you.

“Get away from the window.” Gojo spoke, grabbing their collars as he pulled them away from the window. “I don’t have a crush, that’s not my thing.”

“Sure, sure.” Yuji laughed as Gojo was clearly flushed from the way his ears became red and how his voice cracked as he tried to form words.

Megumi rolled his eyes as he spoke out loud, “leave him alone, even if he did have a crush that’s not our business, and it’s not like anybody would go for him.”

Gojo turned to face Megumi with his eyebrows raised, Megumi’s tone had been calm and without any malice but the way Nobara and Yuji laughed at the comment made Gojo roll his eyes. “I liked it when you weren't here.”

They dismissed his comment as they decided to head back home, Gojo gave one more look back through the wide window. The way you move your finger to brush your hair behind your head talked with the customers. You’d just be another woman who he had never gotten the chance to speak to, another woman who probably had a life that didn’t need the disruption of sorcerers and curses.

Turning back around he walked behind them, hands in his pocket as they all hurried back to the Jujutsu High.

It had been a week since he had seen you through the window of the restaurant, the three had been sent on a mission on their own as Gojo had found himself stuck inside after the incidents had occurred. Finding boredom through texting Nanami irritable messages, he got a reply he never expected from the blond, a meeting place for lunch.

It was highly unusual for Nanami to ask for something but whatever the issue was Gojo would be there without a second question. His eyes fixated on the address which sounded so familiar, he didn’t realise where he was until he stared directly at the restaurant. The restaurant you worked out, it had to be a coincidence. It couldn’t be that Nanami knew from Nobara or the others clearly wanted to have a conversation with you.

But just as he walked through the doors, the gold bell ringing, your head beamed from the doors of the kitchen watching to see who it was. The restaurant was empty as the lunch rush had finished and the only one’s left were regulars or the mysterious white-haired man.

He walked straight to one of your tables as he went to the blond, “Y/n, I don’t pay you to talk all day.” The manager said as you rolled your eyes laughing, you shook your head as you grabbed your apron staring at the two men.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” You muttered as he shook his head, even if you brought in a lot of customers and got the highest paid tips he questioned how you had gotten the job in the first place.

You walked straight to the table, a happy smile on your face as you undid your pen and flipped the notepad open. “Hi, I’m Y/n, I’ll be your server today, can I get you any drinks to start off with?”

Gojo eyes stayed fixated on your form as you gave the two men a happy look, “coffee.” Nanami spoke as the two of you turned to face the white-haired man.

“Not…nothing.” You nodded as Gojo had paused at how close you were to him, you stared back at them as you wrote the single drink down.

“And can I get you any starters?”

You barely looked up at them as Nanami spoke out some food items Gojo couldn’t comprehend, after scribbling it down you looked up. “Always the hungry one aren’t we Nanami.”

Gojo’s face fell as he stared at Nanami who rolled his eyes, you giving a chuckle as Nanami rolled his eyes at your antics. “Gojo meet Y/n Y/l/n, Y/n meet Satoru Gojo, she’s a friend and he…”

“Was the guy staring at me last week through the window.” You interrupted as Gojo didn’t look up through his sunglasses, you could see a spec of blue come through and he looked different from last week but still the handsome guy your customers had noticed gawking at you.

“You were doing what?” Nanami questioned as you laughed at the blond staring daggers at his friend.

Gojo leaned back on his chair as he tried to replace his embarrassment with another emotion, “I wasn’t staring.”

“My customers called it gawking.” You laughed once more before beginning the walk back to get the two men food.

Gojo’s eyes stayed fixated on your form as you left to grab the food, Nanami clicking his fingers in front of the man's face. He couldn’t help but stare at your form, how pretty you looked in full view, how you laughed off his clear gawking at you and how he knew you had a pretty name to match your pretty face.

“How do you know her?” Gojo spoke after you had gone into the kitchen, Nanami raising an eyebrow before replying.

“Before I became a Jujutsu Sorcerer again, I met her here and we became friends…I do have friends, Gojo.” He muttered as he stared at the menu and what he wanted to eat.

Gojo didn’t bother staring at the menu as all he wanted to do was become friends with you, he thought you were perfect. The way you laughed was even perfect but most importantly if you could handle Nanami he would be able to get along with you easily.

“She gets people handing her numbers every day, you can’t just give her your number.” Nanami hinted as he did want to see you happy and if it meant a date with Gojo then who was he to judge.

Nanami had only picked this place after you had spoken of the weird white-haired man who had been surrounded by three teenagers wearing blue uniforms. In an instant Nanami knew who you were talking about he couldn’t help but see how Gojo would react to seeing you once again.

You came back with the food as Nanami leant back grabbing the food as he wanted to see how Gojo would ask for your number. Gojo had one thing in his mind, and it was how pretty you looked, he barely even knew you but the urge to get to know you succumbed him.

All he had to ask was for your number, that was ask for your number and he could start something with you. But the words that formed out of his mouth was not what either Nanami or you expected.

“You come here often then?”

You let out a laugh as Gojo couldn’t dare look at you, he felt like a child in front of you and Nanami was enjoying all of it. “Well considering I work here, yes.”

Gojo knew he had lost his chance as you laughed once more before walking away to go to your other tables. “That was unexpected.”

“This is your fault; I would’ve never said it if you hadn’t told me she rejects every guy who asks her out.”

“I never said that.” Nanami spoke nonchalantly as he continued to play with the food.

It seemed like the rest of the lunch was going to be awkward as you hurriedly passed their main meal before going to another table. Nanami spoke of Yuji’s progress as Gojo was barely listening, staring off into the distance. It seemed like he had ruined any chance to ever get to know you, rolling his eyes as the two of them finished their meals.

“If there’s anything else you two need just ask, but i'll bring you the receipt.” You smiled at the two before leaving once more, never to chat or make conversation just making simple cordial comments before hurrying away to grab drinks for another table.

Nanami stood up as he stretched sorting his tie out as he looked at Gojo, “It’s on you.”

He didn’t say anything else as he walked out of the restaurant giving a nod goodbye to you as you had turned to see Gojo on his own. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Gojo’s mouth had turned downwards in anger as you passed the receipt to him.

He was cute enough and funny from what you had gathered from Nanami. His awkwardness or most likely staleness from not flirting in a while had been cute. You bit your lip questioning if you should do it, but you grabbed your notepad as you wrote down a time and place on it. Slipping it inside you walked over placing it to the side of Gojo as you gave a smile before leaving.

His eyes went down as he opened the booklet, grabbing the receipt and seeing the cost, already cursing out Nanami. Grabbing some cash he slipped it inside before he noticed the note, seeing a time and place, he turned to see you staring at him from the register.

“Really?” He mouthed as you chuckled at him.

Walking closer as you wanted to talk to him properly, “really? I can’t let an attractive guy who can’t help stare at me, walk away from me?”

He chuckled lightly as he leaned back, glasses on the bridge of his nose as you saw his crystal blue eyes. The passion and lust felt through his warm gaze as he smiled at you, “you saying I’m attractive.”

You lean forward having taken Nanami’s seat, “I guess I am.” He leans forward himself, faces a mere inch from each other as you give a light chuckle. Feeling your warm breath fan against his face, “if you’re even a second late then I will get Nanami to beat you up.”

“You wound me.” He laughs as you roll your eyes at his comment, “I would never be late for a pretty girl.”

You give one last smile before standing up with a happy glee, he watches you take the money as he takes the note. He couldn’t help but not stare at your form as he stood outside the window once more, the way you worked with customers with such love for them all. You noticed him staring as you turned to the window smiling once more.

You had acknowledged him and that was all that he had ever wanted since last week. Waving a goodbye, you waved back as he finally walked away from the store. Ready for a whole new world with you at the centre of it.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[milenadaniels]

Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 1

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mention of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you're given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can't relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. A/N: I had this idea one day and initially it was just gonna be a one shot but then i said screw it. i’ve never really done a full chapter story/series so...? Here I go? I’ve written most in advanced so I know I actually have some sense of where this is going and tbh i think it’s gonna be interesting but i love soulmate!au anyways :)

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The nightmares always felt the same. 

In your mind, clear glimpses revealed him - the brooding, long-haired man. He typically wore a mask and that same unforgiving yet disconnected look in his eyes. A metal arm would glimmer every now and then and you’d quickly find him wielding guns or twirling knives. The most uncomfortable acts were those of when he’d use just his hands. 

You didn’t really know the people he was affecting. Some looked important, some seemed like casualties to whatever bigger fight was being played at, but they all came in quick glimpses. Part of you felt that he didn’t care enough to remember them. He had no connection, just a goal. There was always more of a focus on what he was doing and making sure it was done. You could tell that was what he was feeling, what he was seeing, and frankly, it was of the disturbing kind. 

You had grown up hearing friends and family gush about all the wonderful, fascinating soulmate dreams -- because that was what they were supposed to be: dreams. Lovely, lullaby dreams showing one the life their soulmate was living. Giving the other a glimpse at their feelings, their adventures. Hopefully making you want your person.

Your parents loved reminiscing about how they saw each other playing with friends as kids or volunteering at shelters in college. Your friends had been equally fascinated, constantly gossiping about what books their soulmates had read or how their eyes would light up when they played with their dogs.

But you weren’t getting that. Instead of seeing your soulmate read their favorite book, you watched him take down what felt like an army of people. You saw him marching on command as if just a machine.

Part of you thought you were broken. Why were you only getting to see the bad things? Was there nothing good about your person? Had they lived for nothing other than these missions?

It was a weird combination, what you felt towards him. To say you weren’t at least intrigued would be a lie because, at the end of the day, this man was your soulmate. No matter how unnerving or confusing it was, you two were paired. While you didn’t know if he actually knew it, you felt it. You felt the pull in every knife flip. In every stab. In every mission. In every accomplishment.

Even time he was forced to go dormant -- because, yes, you could see the ice. You could see the shocks. 

Your soulmate dreams were nightmares. And they ached and pulled at you. 

***

You were already awake when sunlight began seeping into your room. This wasn’t a new occurrence -- the sun and you seemed to like to play a game to see who would rise first... You, it was always you lately.

The dreams were distorted memories last night. You didn’t see it all like it was interrupted, but you could tell it appeared to be a past memory. There was just something about the intensity visually this time that was weaker. It was less fresh than previous ones but still held feelings, strength. It was a confusing phenomenon, an old thought transmitting between the soulmate lines, but wasn’t unusual for you by any means.

Sometimes you received memories from your soulmate that dated back to the 70s, sometimes 60s. Things he had seen that weren't even from your decade which raised so many more alarms. It prevented you from getting any sort of age range. Sometimes people received memories their soulmates had learned of, like hearing a story of a wedding and depicting it, but they never lasted. Usually they were one-off casualties but these you had persisted. They had to be from him.

While confusing beyond all means, something you never could think about discussing with others, it gave you a little hope that maybe, just maybe, things had…stopped. Whatever rampage or mission your soulmate was on (had been put on?) was finished. Especially being a memory that came from just a few years ago. For once, maybe there weren't new nightmares for your soulmate to produce. 

But you couldn’t get your hopes up. They could be right back at it tonight so you couldn’t allow yourself to ponder it no matter how much it all bugged you. You force yourself to get up and on with the day. Rising as you had watched the sun do so. 

You pulled yourself out of bed choosing to ignore the sleep-deprived headache threatening to creep up. Shuffling around your bedroom, you collected your work uniform wherever you had really tossed it throughout the space. 

Once dressed for the day, you moved on to making yourself presentable to actually get on with work. While you only just worked in a coffee shop -- not exactly the epitome of luxury -- tips were key and people liked their barista to actually look alive.

You finally got out of the door just moments later, homemade bagel sandwich in tow, all complemented by the fakest, brightest smile you could muster as you made your way down the city sidewalk. 

You quite enjoyed the work commute, being able to weave in and out of the people, your mind instinctively wondering if he was here. Was he milling around? Hiding in the shadows? Planning something here or there? What to do next? 

You figured most likely not, but you still looked even if the idea of him was enough to make you shake in your boots. Besides, you didn’t even totally know what you were looking for. The eyes and hair only revealed so much. The glimmer of his hand, though, that sure was unique. You could still see it in flashes throughout your mind. 

So, you harmlessly let your eyes wander on the street. Checking over the faces, the posture, the appearances of them all but none of them could tug on that part of your heart. Granted, it was sort of ridiculous. Your soulmate had been proven to maybe not be the kindest person in the universe but something had to happen if the two of you were paired. And you were just the right amount of daring to see it through.

You finally made it to the coffee shop after your leisure browsing of the city people all bustling, brain set on getting one place or another. They were just exhausting to even look at.

The bell above the door jingled as you entered. The shop was mere minutes from opening and your coworker was already setting up, nearly ready to bring in the morning rush. She greeted you with a weak, tired smile. You responded with one of your own. Seamlessly, you two fell into it all, moving in silence. Prepping, brewing, cleaning.

Work was going much smoother than normal for the day. You seemed to fall into your tasks with ease as you served the morning crowd. You had your normals’ orders memorized and the new customers wooed at your speediness. Tips were coming in nicely as well, you noted. You and your coworker worked together, as if in a tango behind the counter. 

The day seemed that it would continue on just as smoothly as the morning had. Things started to taper off nicely around the afternoon. The shop was mostly filled with college students in between their lectures. They nursed their coffees as they typed away so determined with their homework. 

You and your coworker took the brief moment to lull around. She was aimlessly sweeping by the sugars while you cleaned the same spot over and over again on the counter as you watched the television in the corner. 

The owner had put in the TV a while ago citing it drummed up service but you never actually found proof of that. Instead, it sat high up on the wall, above the windows, muted at all hours. He at least allowed the closed captioning to be on which was what you were reading as you pretended to clean. 

Some midday news program was on. A graphic flashed signaling that they were going into one of their “investigative reports.” You stopped your movements with the rag as you watched the news graphic transition to a portrait picture of a man from the waist up. He...

Something made your stomach drop. Your heart twisted in familiarity while your brain sounded the alarm. Those eyes. That arm. You could feel all of it practically radiating from the television. Letting go of the towel, you let out a gasp at the true shock when it suddenly clicked in your head. 

Everything slowed down around you. Customers began staring, concerned. Your coworker was calling your name, asking what was wrong. But you couldn’t do anything. Your eyes were glued to the television. Something crushed in you as it began adding up. 

Eyes. Arm. Feelings. Emotions. Eyes. Arm. Feelings. Missions. Scene after scene, you went over everything that had been stored -- forced -- unconventionally in your head.

You read the name on the closed captioning followed by his title. Who he was, what he was. 

It fell into place. All of it. It was him, yes. The dreams -- no, no. The nightmares. Your word repeated it over and over again. Him. All him. James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier.

[omniscientwreck]

Hi🖤 Omni! If you're looking for a fic request I've got one.

Okay so Essek is Feeblminded by remaining Volstrucker at his tower. Verin came to visit later that day and has been taling care of Essek, as they both would be scared of the Umavi's wrath should someone find out.

Well Caleb comes to visit a few day's later and Certainly gets a surprise.

Fluff ensues.

I'm talking the Unicorn from Despicable Me level Fluffy😁😁😁

Hi Umbra! Sorry I'm incredibly late answering this, life is weird but I hope the length makes up for it! I know I said drabble but like this just turned into a whole fic so I hope you enjoy!

Verin had worried when Essek’s door hadn’t opened of its own accord, usually he knows when he’s arrived. Deciding something was certainly wrong he barges his way into his brother’s tower. He finds it silent which is normal but unnerving and the unnatural stillness as he calls for Essek has his hackles up.

His knuckles pale as he grips the hilt of his sword and searches methodically throughout the tower. Finding the main floor empty he heads up the stairs to the library. There’s a shuffle, a falling book, a whimper. He draws his sword, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The door is ajar and he can hear shuffling. He thrusts it open is momentarily relieved to see his brother. His hair is tousled and white is stained with flecks of red, his robes are torn and his mantle is askew.

He’s never seen him like this before and his heart lurches. Surprise and fear are plastered across his features, far more freely than Verin’s ever seen him feel. He doesn’t talk and he seems to not even recognize him. Checking the rest of the room, the sword is returned to its sheath and Verin crouches, reaching a hand to Essek.

“Brother, what happened?” Silence, a whimper. “Essek? What’s wrong? It’s Verin, your brother.” His brows unknot, and the tension in his jaw slackens. There’s a looseness to his demeanor and as he stands he waves his hand as if to float, but nothing happens. He tries again and again. The first try was decisive, after watching him for so long Verin knows what it looks like when he casts it. The second time it’s not quite right, the third time it gets looser still. By the time Verin has stopped counting and Verin has grabbed Essek’s hands to calm him it seemed like Essek didn’t know what he was attempting to do.

“Is this some kind of spell? What happened?” His brother looks up with the face of a stranger. His eyes are open and sad, his ears fall just a touch and Essek leans in to hug Verin. He’s never wanted to do that before.

Verin hugs him back. “Oh Essie, what are we going to do?”

Caleb approaches Essek’s tower and is struck by immediate concern when the door doesn’t open for him. Essek always lets him in when he arrives, and with everything that’s happened he immediately panics. Caleb tries to tell himself Essek must be busy and has missed him tripping the wards. So, he lifts the knocker and gives the door a few raps.

He’d asked Caleb to meet him here to assist in the transport of his most important items after their trip to Aeor. He needs to run, he knows it and Caleb knows that turning himself in to the Dynasty would mean certain death so he’s agreed to help. No amount of good will from the Bright Queen would let them bargain for his favour. Selfishly, Caleb won’t allow him to get caught, so he will harbor Essek for some time, helping him stay out of the eyes of the Dynasty.

Eventually he knocks again, beginning to hold a firebolt just in case. “Uh, just a minute,” calls a stranger’s voice from behind the wood. “I’ll be right there.”

The door opens just a crack, “Who is it?”

“I am Caleb Widogast of the Mighty Nein, who is this?” His hand is up and encircled in flame.

“Oh thank the Light, one moment.” Whoever he is, he’s clearly relieved. Caleb’s firebolt stays held.

As the door opens Caleb is greeted by a tall drow, muscular with long braided back hair. He looks familiar but Caleb cannot place him. His features are slowly fading into relief from what must have been a deep concern. “Hello Caleb Widogast, I am Verin Thelyss and I am so glad you’re here. Your the wizard yes?”

Nodding, bewildered as he’s being dragged into Essek’s home by his brother, Caleb can hardly remember to respond, “Uh ja, that’s me. Where is Essek?”

“Well so I came by a few days ago and he didn’t let me into the tower which was weird. There have been some rumors going around and when our mother said he was back I had to ask. I don’t know if you know but… well it’s bad.”

He’s leading him upstairs as he explains and the back of Caleb’s neck is on fire. Verin doesn’t know, but there are rumors that are most likely true. Is he too late?

“So, I’m hoping since you also practice the arcane you might know what’s happened here and how to solve it.”

He leads Caleb into the library and Essek is seated on a chair idly flipping through a book far too quickly. It doesn’t even look like he’s reading, Caleb knows what he looks like when he’s reading. The quiet concentration and the tension it brings his jaw is completely missing. When Essek looks up at him there’s recognition but no words and when he rises to make his way to Caleb, he walks.

He’s wide-eyed and has a sweet smile across his face, it’s difficult to look away but if he doesn’t the heat rising in his cheeks will show. “Essek, what is it mein Freunde?”

No words. Why can’t he talk and why isn’t he floating?

“Essek?” A gentle hand reaches up to rest on his cheek and the heat takes over at the abrupt contact. Especially with Verin standing over his shoulder observing them. “Verin how long has he been like this?”

“About 2 days. I didn’t really know what had happened and if the Umavi found out well… I’m unsure what she would do.” Verin is a little more easier to map out than Essek had been initially and he’s been told enough stories about Dierta to understand the undercurrent of Verin’s words.

“Ja, I understand.” Verin starts at that and Caleb just continues past it, “I believe he has been affected by the spell Feeblemind. I - ah - have experience with this kind of thing. We have friends that can cure him but I will have to contact them, which I will not be able to do until tomorrow.”

Essek’s hand has wound its way into Caleb’s and he tries and fails miserably to contain the blush that he knows is spreading to his ears. Memories of little touches in Aeor flood back and Caleb pushes away thoughts of conversations he’d promised they’d have later, after Essek was safe. To call to attention this thing between them and get it out in the open before it drives him mad. Even if Essek’s feelings do not align with his it will be better to have it in the open.

“So this isn’t hurting him?”

Caleb turns to Essek, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He remembers a blur of time, when his mind had failed him. He remembers terror, looking down at his hands and not knowing whose they were. He didn’t have an anchor, nothing but his own thoughts, with someone there it might be different. Essek can’t understand him but the tone of voice seems to elicit some positive emotions and Essek squeezes his hand, a contented smile across his face, “He seems alright to me. It is unpleasant to be cut off from your casting, but he isn’t in pain and he isn’t alone.” It’s difficult to mitigate the emotion bleeding into his voice.

He pushes down memories of the years he’d been locked away and squeezes Essek’s hand back, reassuringly. “Have you gotten him to eat?”

Verin nods, “Occasionally. Probably not as much as he needs. I’m not exactly an excellent cook and nobody can see him like this so I’ve sent his staff away.”

“Alright, well I’ll just do this then.” he begins casting the tower, “I understand if you want to stay but if you need to go I can care for him.” he wants Verin to leave, he wants him gone so badly, to just take care of Essek properly without the shadow of somebody who doesn’t know hanging over them.

“I should be back to Bazzoxan soon. They’ll begin asking after me.” Caleb finishes casting the tower and leads Essek in. Just before he enters, Verin stops him, “You mean something to each other. I’ve never seen him act this way before, granted there’s an arcane influence but genuinely he has never smiled like he did when he saw you. I trust you with this because I think he would. Do not betray that.”

Caleb nods, “Of course not. We’ve faced the most difficult challenges of my life together and with our friends. I will care for him.” Verin seems satisfied with that and makes to leave, and Caleb enters the tower to find Essek waiting in the centre of the tower. He has an idea of where he wants to go. As the tower door closes behind Verin, he and Essek begin to drift upwards. Essek opens his mouth as if to reflexively murmur ‘up’ as had become their custom in their long travels together and his brows knot in distress, as if he’s realized again that his voice will not come. Caleb reaches for his hand, to comfort him and says it for them both, to which Essek smiles.

The drow releases Caleb’s hand and begins to swirl around, never leaving the central column and Caleb is forced to mirror his motions lest they collide. He flashes back to a moment of levity when they’d first come to Aeor. They had showboated then, dancing around each other as their works often did. This Essek is less restrained and his eyes and nose crinkle into a genuine smile when Caleb joins his frivolity.

They stop at the ninth floor which Caleb had known to be Esseks’ destination and immediately Essek lays on the pillows he always places in the corner. Usually, on their research expedition, he tranced in his room but on particularly emotional days they both preferred an expanse of stars above them as they rested. It became tradition and over time they’d drifted closer and closer together, until they would sometimes come to consciousness to find that through the night Essek had curled into Caleb’s side or that their hands had wound together unknowingly.

Now, Essek’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open in wonder as though it’s his first time seeing it all over again. Caleb stands over him, following his gaze up to the idly shifting starscape above. Caleb is quickly distracted by the versions of them that traverse different paths. Sometimes in each other’s company, other times in solitude. In a few they hold hands or make contact at the shoulders. Those are the ones he likes the most.

When his gaze is pulled back downwards, Essek stares up at him with a tenderness that quickly turns to expectation. He’s arranged burgundy cushions across the floor beside him for Caleb and so he obliges. As he stretches out across the crude bed slender, cool fingers interlock his own and he lays back and tells Essek of the constellations he’s hidden among the stars.

When Caleb himself was in this state he remembered lacking familiarity. Nothing around him made sense and the upheaval of his life only moments prior had only amplified the disorientation of the magic that kept him prisoner for 11 years.

Essek has someone to watch over him, he’s in a place that evidently brings him much joy and in recent months he’s found himself halfway to peace. Caleb finds his heart swell at the idea of making this experience bearable.

The silence was always the worst so he points to guide the elf’s eyes as he tells them the stories behind each constellation. He tells him of Nila, gentle and fierce. Of Twiggy, ever optimistic and wholly delightful. He tells him about Reani who Essek has spent some time with. Brief recognition flashes across his face, though it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Caleb remembers. He remembers knowing that someone was there who he should recognize but not having the words to know he had forgotten their name. He was in terror and treated everyone as a threat. Essek treats everything with wonder and discovery. The innocence is sweet and a syrupy feeling pools in Caleb’s throat as he’s again confronted with the way his heart swells when Essek looks at Caleb with that same contented smile.

He scoots closer and this is entirely too much. The idea that this version of Essek may curl into his side willingly, while they were fully conscious where the other version cannot unsettles him. Instead he stands, offering his hand, “Why don’t we get you something to eat ja?” There’s a momentary droop of his ears, much more pronounced than any movement he’d seen before before he lifts Essek and they go down to the dining room.

If there is to be anything significant between them it cannot be spurred under these circumstances. Caleb has to know he means it. As they wait while he cats prepare what had become their usual fare while traversing Aeor, he defaults to telling stories. First he tells him of the tunnels they traversed to reach the Dynasty, crafting an illusion as well as he can of the crystalline caves they made camp in. Food arrives and he continues weaving story and image as Essek picks at the well spiced soup comprised mainly of squash and potato. As he crafts an illusion of the dragon turtle they’d fought just after the peace talks out of amber and morphs its shape to a smaller turtle and then a sea slug, laughing to himself at the absurdity, he notices the clink of Essek’s spoon has long subsided.

Glancing over electric eyes focus on him instead of the illusion, so he drops it. “Ah, Es tut mir Leid, I know I tend to get carried away.” A little contented noise bubbles from Essek’s throat and his heart squeezes. In a desperate attempt to try and get Essek to eat more he turns back to his own soup and looks expectantly over to his friend.

Giving him a look of exasperation, he mirrors Caleb and eats most of the soup. Caleb rips up bread and encourages him to dip it in what’s left of the soup and finally, the bowl is empty. They leave the cats to clean up and Essek’s hand grasps Caleb’s again and squeezes. He knows he shouldn’t draw conclusions or let himself be taken by these gestures that the man wouldn’t make if he’d had the presence of mind, but it’s turning into a losing game.

With the time spent on the ninth floor and the prolonged battle of coaxing Essek to eat they only have a few hours until sleep. Essek takes his customary seat on the couch in the study and Caleb withdraws some of the lighter fiction that now populates the shelves. Lying back on the sofa, feet resting on the armrest, head by Essek he holds up the copy of Der Katzenprinz to show the illustrations. “You seem to like hearing me talk so why don’t I share this with you? Either way you won’t understand what I say so I will read it to you as it was originally intended.”

He begins, in Zemnian to tell him the fairy story that had brought him so much joy as a child, and the cats bring them hot chocolate as instructed. Warm mug in hand, Essek sits patiently through the story and as it turns to a close, picks up another of the books Caleb has gathered and thrusts it upon his chest. A real laugh bubbles up at that and he obliges.

As the night winds on and the mugs are emptied, Essek’s hand winds its way through Caleb’s hair, gently combing. When he looks up at Essek he’s met with soft, drooping eyes and a plain smile laced with nothing but care. He tries to stop Essek over the course of the book but finds that the drow always goes back to his hair so eventually, he leaves it. When Essek’s breaths even and elongate and he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open, Caleb sends him to trance.

He’s met with a slightly mournful look as Essek settles into the cushions he’s provided for trancing, but Caleb squeezes his shoulder, “If something goes wrong the cats will know to come get me. This is for the best.” Looking not at all reassured, but staying in place, Essek lets him leave without protest.

In the middle of sleep, dreamless and warm, there’s pressure. Then a caterwaul cuts through his subconscious followed by several more. He awakes with a start and immediately the cats gather around his feet as he pulls on slippers. They lead him to Essek’s room, where through the closed doors he can hear the sounds of furniture being disturbed.

Barging in, heart pounding, he finds Essek with tears streaming down his face. “Essek Schatz what’s wrong?” He kneels, abandoning any sense of propriety or boundaries and as he collapses into Caleb’s arms with nearly silent sobs he’s struck by how small the other man is.

“It’s alright Essek, whatever it was it cannot hurt you. I will keep you safe as you have done me.” They’ve never talked about the nights when the cats would do the same to Essek as they’d done to Caleb. When he’d been awoken from nightmares with angry red scratches down his forearms and a friend to bandage them. They’ve never quite discussed the comfort in Essek trancing just beside Caleb’s bed on difficult nights and he’s tried to stifle contemplation about the safety the man brings to his subconscious. The timing wasn’t right and despite his own longing he couldn’t make that step towards Essek. Not then.

Now, however, the elf shudders in his arms and he brings him into his lap, lighting soft amber globules of light to examine Essek. When he finds no physical harm he puts them out again and draws him in tighter as Essek clutches at the sides of his nightshirt and curls into his chest. He sings gentle lullabies his mother had once used to soothe him, voice cracking slightly as he flexes it in a long forgotten way. Eventually the shaking stops and breath becomes more solid, but hands stay grasped into his shirt so, with assistance from the cats, he maneuvers them into an easier sleeping position. Ever determined, Essek stays in his arms the whole time and when he tries to encourage him to trance beside him, arms wind around his waist.

“Okay, okay. If this will help.” Caleb resigns himself to creaky joints the next morning and sleeps with Essek in his arms, pushing away any indulgent thoughts of future nights spent with him in the same orientation.

When he awakes Essek is gone from his lap, though their fingers are laced and his head rests atop the drow’s on his shoulder. “Guten Morgen Essek.” He startles and smiles over at Caleb. Open, honest, vulnerable. They need to fix this. “I just need to prepare and then we will see Jester ja?” He receives a blank stare in return and nods to himself. “I will be back in a few moments and then we will go to Nicodranas. Just wait here.” He leaves and dresses quickly, returning to find Essek essentially where he’d been left. He takes a moment to glance over his spellbook and concentrates as he casts Sending, “Hallo Jester, I need your assistance with a pretty big restoration. Can you help today?”

She sounds half-asleep as she responds, “Caleb? Oh hi! Yeah I can help, just come to mama’s, we’re in Nicodranas. Oh my gosh I have to tell you, the dragon turtle-” her word economy same as ever.

“Okay Essek, Jester can help. I don’t know where you kept your parasol but I’m sure she can make you another.” With that they head out the door and Caleb transports them safely to the Lavish Chateau. Essek’s hand never leaves his.

Upon arrival they’re beset by a shouted greeting and Jester crushes Caleb in a hug before even realizing the other man is there. “Ohmigod Essek hi! I missed you!” Instead of awkwardly patting her back as he usually does, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in. “Hey Caleb, what’s going on with Essek?”

She pulls back and sees his broad smile and dancing eyes and looks at Caleb distinctly concerned. “Ah- I’m afraid he is a victim of the Feeblemind spell. It’s what they used against me in… well.” Her face clouds with understanding. “He’s okay physically though, whoever attacked him clearly just needed him out of the way. If you can use Greater Restoration that will undo the effects. He’s been ah - rather clingy.”

She waggles her eyebrows at him, making suggestive noise, and gets out the required diamond dust, sprinkling it delicately over Essek who watches in wonder. She puts both hands on her shoulders and green radiant energy emanates from her and passes to him. Before long he’s shaking his head and stepping back, voice hoarse from disuse, “Where- Jester? Thank you oh my gods thank you.”

She grins back at him, “I’m glad you’re back Essek! It’s a good thing Caleb brought you here you were acting so weird-”

She’s cut off as he chokes out, “Caleb.” and looks over with a deep violet flush and wide, apologetic eyes. “I ah- I am sorry for putting you through that. I-”

“Nein, do not apologize. Maybe we should get back to your tower to try and piece together who did this to you and what they were after ja?’

Essek nods and casts his levitation cantrip, shoulders sagging with relief when it works. “Yes, of course. Thank you Jester, I’m sorry we can’t stay but-”

She hugs the both of them again, “It’s okay, you have lots to talk about probably I don’t know bye!” she gives Caleb a wink as he begins casting the spell again and to his surprise Essek’s hand winds itself in his as they vanish.

They’re back in the tower and Caleb looks down, Essek’s hand still in his. Essek drops it and there’s a flush set deep into his cheeks and it spreads to his cheeks as their eyes meet. “Caleb I-” he swallows “I remember most of what happened, though not very clearly. I um-” his eyes are downcast and Caleb braces for what he believes to be coming, “Thank you for your patience. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable it is very difficult to explain but I think you’re aware of the feeling. I didn’t exactly have my full faculties and I fear I broke boundaries that may have encroached too far on your hospitality and our friendship.”

It’s difficult to see him so apologetic for the affection displayed. This thing between them has gone unspoken quite too long and before he realizes it he’s speaking, “Don’t apologize for that Schatz, I ah- I didn’t mind. There’s something I think we ought to discuss fairly plainly because I do not want to mince words about the way I feel anymore, it’s tiring.”

Essek looks up to meet him, steeling himself and as Caleb is about to speak he cuts him off, “I am aware enough of how I acted to realize I cannot properly hide my feelings further.” He takes a deep breath, the back of Caleb’s neck is burning and time has all but frozen, “I care deeply for you Caleb. It is difficult to bring myself to those words for I know this is the last thing I deserve but here I am, a fool for you. I know that there were moments in Aeor, I hold them close to my heart as precious things in a life of solitude. If you do not do the same, if you do not feel the same I will remain your friend if you’ll allow it, your research partner, anything. But-” he looks down almost sheepishly, “I owe it to you to be forthright and so I will tell you that if you’ll have me, I would very much like to see where this takes us.”

A smile breaks across Caleb’s face as their eyes meet, “May I kiss you?”

Essek draws in a sharp breath, eyes wide, and nods. It takes Caleb only a moment to close the gap, hands sliding around Essek’s waist and over the back of his neck as he leads them together. Essek’s hands hold his shoulders and his eyes flutter closed as their lips meet, electricity and heat mixing. When they finally pull back they’re both flushed. Essek lets out a huff of a laugh and Caleb wraps him tightly as he brings him in again, smiling into another kiss.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Devil on Your Team | Part 1

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: angst, smut

A\N: Asgard AU where Felix is Loki, Chan is Thor, and OC/reader is Lady Sif

Gif credit @915archive

“Will you join us this time, brother?”

Loki hesitates at Thor’s question. He was never good at the sort of thing that his friends enjoyed so, which made him a target for ridicule across the realm. What kind of man, a prince nonetheless, was so weak and fearful? Not a real man, that’s what.

Thor didn’t make it easier for him. Being the picture of the formidable, valiant warrior, he made Felix’s shortcomings all the more stark. Loki was all too aware of the comparisons people liked to make between them--they would fawn over how Thor was so brave, so strong, so much like the king that his frail little brother could never be. They would laugh and thank their stars that the fates were kind enough to have Thor be the old king’s first born and not his pitiful little brother.

Even Thor, who claimed to love him most in the world, was embarrassed of him. He always tried to egg him on and make him engage in “manlier” endeavors and forsake his witchcraft, forcing him along on his reckless adventures with his gang of hooligans so he would toughen up. How can he say that he loves him when he saw him as something that needed to be fixed? Thor didn’t love him. He pitied him.

Only you gazed upon him and accepted him for who he was. You knew too well what it felt like to be underestimated and ridiculed for being different, for daring to not adhere to their millenia-old customs of what makes one a good warrior or a proper lady. Every time he would hide and cry, you would find him and remind him that underestimating him will be their downfall, that true weakness is stupidity and arrogance and they had that in excess.

And there you were, coming to his defense once more.

“Shut up, you big oaf. Loki doesn’t care for our silly games.”

“Why not? All he has to do is sit back and not get in the way of our fair maiden and he should be fine.” Volstagg cuts in, followed by a series of chuckles that ebb and flow through the group.

“Volstagg.” Thor warns, shooting him a glare that quiets the snickering down, but by then it was too late, the damage had been done.

For, worse than the comparisons between himself and his golden brother, were those between him and the woman he loved so dearly.

Your close relationship made it so it was easy for people to jeer at the fact that the warrior lady is doing a man’s job while the prince practised such cowardly arts as magic that were meant for women. The comparison wasn’t flattering to either of you as he was thought of as a weakling and you as a woman trying to be a man.

“No, Volstagg, go on. Tell me what exactly you mean to say.” Again, you start defending him, ready to start a fight with the large man who began slinking back when faced with your unbridled fury. You were always so passionate about defending him, but Loki cannot let you keep doing that. He needed to prove that he could look after himself, not to impress those mindless thugs, but to prove to you that he could be a man for you, and provide you with protection just like any other man.

“I’m sure he’s just joking, my lady.” Loki interrupts and you look at him with surprised eyes that get all the wider as he continues, “It doesn’t matter anyway as I’ll be joining you.”

“My prince, you don’t have to--”

“I don’t have to do anything, my lady. I want to. Now let’s stop this useless bickering and go.”

__________________________

There was a nervous energy within the group the whole time they were in Alfheim. The men felt weird with Loki there and Loki felt weird with the warrior lady always hovering around.

“Lady, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that you were trying to guard me. I don’t need guarding. I can defend myself.” He didn’t want to snap at you like that but he desired so desperately for you to see him as a man for once.

“O-of course, my prince.” You splutter, a pretty blush on your face from being called out, and hesitantly take a few steps away from him, still not going far.

Loki huffs and charges forward carelessly, if you weren’t going to give him space, he will take it himself. And it’s precisely his attempt to distance himself from you that gets them in trouble.

“Brother, look out!” Thor shouts and Loki looks up barely in time to see an elf descend on him from the tree he was under. Shouts rise up and fill the air as their party gets ambushed by the rogue elves they were after.

Loki gets outnumbered, one of the elves delivering a blow to him before you can make your way to him. But your party quickly overcomes their momentary shock and works fast to push back the elves, steadily gaining control and shifting the tides in your favor.  Eventually, you beat the band of rogue elves and send them scattering back into the woods.

When the fight dies down, things only get worse for Loki as you rush to cradle his body in your arms, thinking he is unconscious, before turning back to the men. “Shame on you! If you hadn’t been absolute pricks to him, he wouldn’t have felt the need to prove himself to you and get himself hurt. Why must you be like this?”

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Thor speaks up, sounding genuinely upset too.

“Oh, shove it up your big behind, my prince.” You growl, lifting Loki up in your arms and moving towards the portal to go back home.

Even without opening his eyes, he can feel your worried gaze on his face and it kills him.

__________________

Loki became closed off the entire period he was healing. The more you fussed over him, the quieter he got. He was so disappointed in himself and you taking care of him only wounded his ego further.

“Stop babying me, woman. You’re worse than the lot of them. Would you like me to hand you a pair of scissors so you can snip my balls off and hang them around your neck?”

You were taken aback by his outburst, and Loki regrets his outburst for a second, thinking he’s finally pushed you away. But instead of stomping off, you get on the bed and straddle him, grabbing his neck and growling roughly, “You don’t want me to be gentle with you? Fine, I won’t be gentle.”

You smash her lips to his, tearing a noise of surprise from his throat. You’d been patient enough with him but he insists on being a brat. If that’s the way he wants to be treated then so be it. And judging by the way he kissed you back eagerly, you don’t have to wonder long.

He was almost healed by now, and you could be free to run her hands all over him without hurting him, eliciting instead the most needy moans from his pretty lips. But when he tries to do the same, he is met with hard, unyielding steel.

"This is unfair. Take this off." He protests against your lips.

"I think not. You have been quite the sourpuss lately, I don't think you deserve to touch me. Matter of fact, keep those wandering hands up." You grab his hands and pin them to the bed, intending to punish him for all the hell he made you go through.

"No, please, my lady, let me touch you."

"Oh you're already begging, that's not very manly of you." You bite at him, still upset that he endangered his life just because his ego was bruised.

He cowers under your intense glare, feeling reprimanded. "I'm sorry, I'll be good."

"Oh you will be. Now quit your protesting or I'll gag you too."

He shuts up, though he's unsure if it wouldn't have been better for you to gag him as the noises that come out of his throat at your ministrations were not very dignified.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to get my hands on you, my prince. You drive me crazy." You drawl, palming his member and making him turn to hide his face in his arm as a blush covers his face.

"I should punish you for teasing me so." You  slowly pull his trousers down his hips, exposing his eager member to the cool night air that was clashing with your warm breath so close to where he needed you the most. "Will you be good for me from now on, my sweet prince?"

This was everything they ridiculed him for, being so subservient to a woman like this, but damn did he crave it. He needed you to own him.

"Yes, my lady." He stares down at you as you lean down ever so close to his cock, your breath fanning over him, as hot as ever and he feels his skin melt under it. The heat spreading to the rest of his body made his blood simmer in his veins. Sweat beaded up on his skin and his mind sweltered as you put your mouth on him, but he could do nothing but push himself into the scorching heat of you, submitting himself to the flames.

But all too suddenly, he stops burning, coolness flashing over his body like one of his brother's storms, and he stares down at you in betrayal, ready to apologize for everything and profess his undying love for you if only she would put your mouth back on him, but the horror struck look on your face sobers him up.

"My lady, what is--"

"What is happening to you?" You shriek, and for the first time he sees fear in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" He puzzles, looking down at himself in reflex, wondering what had possessed you when a flash of blue catches his eyes…

Huge patches of his body were covered by rough blue skin, the likes of which are all too familiar to him. He can't help his own shout of panic. "What is that? What is happening?!"

"You're turning into a….a monster." You shake her head, tears springing to your eyes at the horror unfolding in front of you.

"Lady, help me please.” Loki is even more shaken, tears already streaming down his face as he seems terrified of his own self. “Did they put a curse on me?"

"I-I don't know." You lament, feeling hopeless.

But then an idea pops into your head, "I'll get the king. He'll know what to do."

"No, please!" His hands fly out to hold onto you but you jump back, and Loki quickly pulls his arms back to his body, wounded at the disgusted look on your face.

"Why not?"

"You know he doesn't favor me."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's your father." You try to calm him down but he only gets more disconsolate. "No you don't understand. You don't see the way he looks at him when no one is looking. I'm… I'm scared."

Your heart breaks at the way he shivers, but there is nothing else you can do. You’re sure he’s just panicked. Odin is good and kind and you trust him beyond measure. "You're hallucinating, my sweet. The king would never hurt you."

"No, you don't understand--" He squeaks, and you reach out to cradle his face in your palms, only flinching slightly at the coldness. "Hush, my sweet." You kiss him gently then run to the king. Hearing Loki sob behind you only makes you run faster.

_________________________

A/N: lol surprise

[pedropascallovebot]

Let's Kill Tonight

summary: You're a bit out of practice, but being entrusted with the retrieval and return of Helmut Zemo shouldn't be too hard, right? Even if he is your old sorta-boss and you still are nursing unfortunate loyalty towards the team. You can manage. And him being... slightly more attractive than how you last left him won't be a problem.

Right?

warnings and a/n: i have.... no clue what this is if not a complete rewrite of mcu canon purely for self-indulgence. reader has a kinda shady past and in result will talk graphically about violence in later chapters and there's lots of gun action in this one. very fun, very cool! alright. i hope y'all enjoy teehee

—

The weather where you're at doesn’t usually vary much from a sunny sky, but alas, you’re absolutely drenched by the time you step inside the diner. You hadn’t expected the rain. Your usual five minute walk to work turned into a hike through muddy sidewalks and water droplets that kept hitting your eyes, and by the time you tied your apron around your waist the day felt over before it even started. Your boss gives you a closed-lip smile and glances at your empty section of tables, and you just know you’re going to be late on rent again.

For what it’s worth, Lüleburgaz isn’t the worst place to slip under the radar. It’s not underpopulated by any means, but it makes it perfect to blend in with the crowd as best you can. Honestly, you're just trying to make it a day without a proper therapist. Your roommates are great listeners, don't get it twisted- but all they really know about you is you're Sokovian and they don't really need to hear about the stuff that happened before your country was crushed by some guys in tights and iron suits. They don't ask you much, and you're grateful.  After an unfortunate five-year gap in employment (which isn’t your fault- it’s kinda hard to find jobs when you’re reduced to dust unexpectedly) you were lucky to find somewhere that was willing to hire you without a legally issued identification card and that was also willing to pay in cash under the table. You broke out the books and attempted to learn the language as best as you can, and while you're struggling a bit, you can at least understand the menu and what a customer is ordering. It was far from ideal- ideal would be completely erasing any trace of memory regarding you and your… history, so to speak, from anybody who has the potential to be a threat to you. Ideal could also be an island somewhere, maybe Praslin or Nassau, where you could swim in clear waters and drink copious amounts of fancy fruity drinks instead of whatever liquor your roomies had hiding under the counter. But until that happens, being on the sorta-run for some questionable past career choices seems to stick.

Said questionable career choices led you to be introduced to a network of interesting people, some less horrible than others, but all of them carried the same unmistakable signal of danger displayed in flashing lights above their heads. When you hear the bell to the restaurant door jingle, signaling the arrival of someone new, that weird gut feeling activates and your eyes flicker up to see a pair of high heels and sunglasses, even though the sun hasn’t been out all day. Everyone else eating their food don’t even spare a glance to the door. This should comfort you, it should tell you that you're fine and that there's nothing to worry about, but it absolutely doesn’t and suddenly you’re inconspicuously making your way to the back, muttering something to your boss about taking your break early. Ripping off your apron, you throw it to the side and let it land on the ground next to you, and you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. Your fingers are twitching as the pressing issue of impending doom continues to rise in your gut. You barely register the creaking sound of the back gate opening.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Suddenly, you’re in fighting stance as an unfamiliar voice speaks less than a foot away from your ear. You don’t recognize this new face, but she looks expensive and entirely too out of place for a diner that receives in its eggs already prepared and frozen.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she continues, and fishes a lighter and pack out of her coat pocket. “Good choice. These things will kill you- and so will this godawful food you serve here. What a relief that after today you won’t step foot in this place ever again, huh?”

Your mouth opens to say something, but you decide against it. Instead, you slightly lower your fists, keeping your eyes trained on her seemingly unbothered expression. She takes a long drag of her cigarette before giving you any more information. The silence is deafening, and you mentally take note of the clear path you have through the open fence and towards the street if you chose to run. Something tells you this lady didn’t arrive here on foot though, and she probably had an expensive vehicle waiting out front waiting to catch up to you if you chose to make a break for it.

“You’re jumpy- probably a little bit out of practice from the whole ex-assassin thing, right? I can work with that. I have to applaud you: as far as hide and seek spots go, this wasn’t horrible. We’ll have to improve your people skills, but-“

“Who are you?”

You grow increasingly frustrated as it starts to sprinkle again, leaving you cold and wet as your company opens an umbrella she had previously stored away in her coat.

“I don’t like being interrupted, so let’s not make it a habit, hm? My name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and you’ve become annoyingly important to my cause. Come on, we’re leaving.”

She begins to walk towards the gate, but you stay put, beginning to toy with the idea of unsheathing the knife stored in your boot.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, lady.”

This makes her turn around and sigh in frustration.

“The way I see it, you have two choices. Go back and finish bussing tables so you can make an extra couple dollars, or come with me so we can talk real business. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one between the two of us that poses a threat. I’m not the one with weapons hidden in my clothes, am I?”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t argue. Instead, you hesitantly join her in her path towards a gaudy car (you knew it) that looks way too out of place to be in this parking lot. For a split second you consider going back and giving your manager somewhat of a notice of your absence, but Valentina’s walking so fast that you don’t really have time to continue considering.

“By the way, I distinctively said my name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine- I don’t like to repeat myself, don’t make me do it again.”

-

You barely have time to sit down before Valentina is barking directions at her driver and scolding you for getting rain water in her backseat. You remain silent, and a little bit uncomfortable as Val finishes her cigarette completely before bothering to inform you of whatever the hell she’s got going on.

“Tell me what you know about super soldiers,” she finally gives, crossing her legs and glances at you expectantly.

You search her face for any kind of indication that she’s kidding, but she seems serious. It kinda feels like your soul is being stared into and you want to look away but you can’t. What does she not know about super soldiers that she can learn from you and not from literally anywhere else? Admittedly, all you know is what clips of newspapers would give you. Something about rogue experimentation, something-something Winter Soldier, and then, most recently, the Flag-Smashers and the rumors flying around that they've got some serum floating around. All of this seemed to be public knowledge though. Nothing a woman who’s willing to corner people in the backlots of their jobs couldn’t find out from a simple Google search.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“I can’t say I know much.”

For what feels like the millionth time in the span of twenty minutes, she sighs, bringing out her cell phone and starts punching some buttons.

“And what about this man? Does he ring a bell?”

You do your absolute best to not look as tense as you feel when out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face in a tiny, grainy picture. She shoves the device in your hands, and right there center of the screen is-

“Zemo, right? That was a trick question. Hard to forget the face of your old boss, I’d assume.”

Suddenly, you’re upright in your seat, the earlier feeling of danger settling right back into place. Valentina, of course, just lets out a laugh, while you’re planning on swan-diving out the damn window.

“The Colonel isn’t my boss,” you protest, and a burning sensation makes its way to your throat.

“Isn’t he though?” Valentina is now fully turned towards you, her hand reaching to grab the phone back. More buttons are pressed, and she’s reading your name from an official looking online database. “It says here you’re wanted in a lot of countries, huh? I wonder why that is- oh, look at this, would you? Seems like your name and EKO Scorpion are mentioned in the same sentence at least three times just on this page.”

Your eyes narrow, and you waste no more time in grabbing your gun from your coat pocket, and Valentina seems to have the same idea, the phone  in her hands is now replaced with a much newer and nicer pistol than you’re carrying. It’s silent in the car for a few seconds, and the driver in the front dares not move a muscle. Val is the first to break, and she lowers her weapon with a shit-eating grin you’re growing tired of seeing.

“Let’s start over. You’re associated with an elite death squad assigned to defend the interests of a country that’s no more than a pile of rubble and dead memorial flowers on the ground. You never had an official invitation, but they paid you good enough money for you to get your hands dirty for them. Too bad that without a leader, your little syndicate fell apart, didn’t it? Unfortunate, what happened to him really. And how inconvenient it must have been for you- I’m sure the law doesn’t usually side with individuals associated with terrorists. Luckily for you, you had a five-year break from being on the run.”

The urge to fall back into old form and pull the trigger at the slightest sign of trouble starts to rear its ugly head, but you take a deep breath and try to align your focus to your current situation. This doesn’t have to be deadly. She knows your history, she knows your name. She could just be blackmailing you. Easy fix, offer her better information on individuals that are far, far away from you. You’re sure you can think of something juicy enough to entertain her and fray her interest in you. This doesn’t have to end in a gunshot. She has access to all of the shit you’ve done. You don’t know what she knows. She could be from the American government. Kill her, and lessen the risk of being thrown in a prison cell to rot.You’re desperate, and you’re scared, and it’s making you vulnerable. You take another deep breath in, and lower your gun.

“What do you want?” Valentina falls back into her seat, clearly very amused by the entire situation now that guns weren’t drawn.

“The Flag-Smashers are becoming increasingly difficult as they’re forming alliances with seemingly every gang of mercenaries for hire. The serum belongs in the hands of someone who knows what to do with it, don’t you think?”

This lady is clearly out of her mind, but you’re too far in now and you don’t feel like questioning her on her morals or the ethics of this situation.

“I don’t want any business with Morganthau, and I don’t care about super soldiers. If that’s all you need me for, you might as well find someone else.”

“Who said anything about you dealing with Flag-Smashers? No, for you,” she starts, grabbing the phone once more and resuming that annoying clicking as she searches through various links, “I have a slightly less… hazardous task. No killing involved, sadly. I’m sure your lovely skillset will keep until it’s needed, but you will be finding Zemo for me, where I can pay him far too much money so he’ll kill the Flag-Smashers for me.”

It’s your turn to laugh, now. “In case you haven’t heard, Helmut Zemo is rotting away in prison for the rest of his life. How is he going to be of any help to you?”

Valentina doesn’t bother giving you a verbal response, just shoves that damn phone in your face again. You glare at her before your eyes skim over the article. Breakout. Zemo. The Falcon. Prison. You curse internally, and she lets her arm fall back to her side. You realize you haven’t been paying too much attention to where the driver was taking you both until you feel the vehicle holt to a stop, and you look up to realize you’re in a parking garage, and the faint sounds of airplanes fly overhead.

“As of now, you and I are a two-man team, but this won’t be the case for long. Zemo is with Sam Wilson and James Barnes in a safehouse in Riga. You and I aren’t the only ones looking for him, however, which makes your job a little tricky, but I don’t have much faith in the guy assigned in returning him to Berlin.”

“Who is he?”

“I assume the name John Walker doesn’t need an explanation?”

You shake your head.

“Walker can be of use to us, and we’re gonna need him- just not yet. What I need from you at the current moment is to make sure you get to these coordinates,” the driver is suddenly handing you a slip of paper with numbers scribbled on it, and you take it, “before Walker gets Zemo.”

You inhale, and Valentina gives you a look.

“I assume you have a question?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get Walker on your side sooner? Maybe if you could say the right thing, persuade him to bring Zemo to us-"

Valentina cuts you off with a scoff. “What? That if we tell Captain America to hand over an international prisoner so we can extract information and hire him to kill for us he’ll do it? Walker wants one thing right now: he wants that serum. Coincidentally, your friend Zemo wants that serum gone. IF we get to him first, which you will, he’ll be more than happy to oblige. Walker is at a tipping point, but he’s not useful to us. Yet. We just have to wait until he's vulnerable.”

She takes your silence as an okay to continue. “Get to Latvia, find Zemo. Use that pretty face of yours to charm him into coming with you, maybe share some war stories around the campfire. I don’t give a damn how you get it done. Walker’s already halfway there by now.”

You are really starting to question how Valentina is getting her information, but before you can say anything else, she’s motioning for her driver to slide another piece of paper in your hand. Your eyes go wide at the numbers listed after a dollar sign.

“I assume this would be enough to cover your services?”

You look up at her, nodding your head slightly.

“Half now, half when you bring him to me,” she finishes, and the driver is unlocking your side of the car. “It looks like we’re in business then.”

[p1nkwitch]

Just wanted to drop this cause im tired.

Enjoy some lonelyeyes reincarnation au in a coffee shop.

Peter works.

Its not something that particularly bothers him much. His sister laughs and jokes around with him, while moving around serving her orders.

Their cafe is small and cozy but also sort of lonely, they have the oddest shifts imaginable, mostly working the graveyard shift.

Peter cooks the pastries while Judith and Aaron take the orders and serve the food. Clara has her music show on fridays and Lydia works at the art gallery but spends most of her time helping around as well.

The five of them are happy.

Simon was happy to help them pay for the Tundra Cafe. He hums under his breath while Judy sings along, there weren't that many people so they could do it without shame.

He is content.

…

At least he thinks he is. And honestly why shouldn't he? He has a good job, he has a good relationship with all his siblings, his adoptive dad loved them unconditionally.

By all means he should be nothing but happy.

And yet.

He feels… as if something was missing.

It was like an itch that he could not get over with.

It probably started back when he got a crush in one of his college professors that he realized-

That he really was missing something important.

Mister Wright was older than him sure, but he was handsome and Peter wasn't one to care much about age. However, the few times they spoke it was-

It was like there was something not right, it soured him somehow, but perhaps it was for the best, the man was married and he just had a stupid silly crush. It still did not take away the fact that he felt as if there was something off with him too.

He thinks his eyes should be a clearer grey than they were.

The next time he realized something was off was when he met Elias Bouchard.

Again it was embarrassing how quickly he seemed to get a crush on him, he just saw him a few times and his mind got stuck on his face. He was handsome and this time he was around his age. They had a few classes together so despite his anxiety he actually spoke with him.

And it was….

Dull.

He was dull as a wall. It did not lead up to anything else, beyond a few greetings later on, but it stayed on his mind.

Any other attempt at dating or going out turned out badly for him and its not as if he didn't try! It just was never… right.

Clara said that if he kept looking for the perfect person he would die alone and miserable. Lydia hits her and tells him that its ok, sometimes people don't click, he just needs to find someone who gets him.

He tries, but between his social anxiety, personality and perhaps his lack of interest in sex during the best of times, people are more or less put off with him. His sisters and brother are all offended on his behalf but Peter has resigned himself to not think too much about it.

Maybe he is like Lydia and he is better off alone.

That makes all of them look at him with tight faces and he blinks confusedly at them.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, just, you have us and dad Peter you're not alone” Judy holds his hand and Aaron nods.

“I- i know, i just meant like relationship wise, maybe i just have to be alone. I know I have all of you. We live in the same building block. I don't think we could be alone if we wanted” That makes them all sort of laugh and the tension breaks.

His siblings talk and joke and he ponders.

He wonders why sometimes they all act weird with him when he speaks about being alone. Why his adoptive dad always made sure to let them know he loved them. Simon was fun and took care of them, but it always felt as if he wasn't saying something.

However he sees his family be happy around him and he ignores that feeling of wrong that always permeates around him. He won't dampen their happiness with his own pessimistic thoughts and paranoia.

So yes, Peter bakes, makes models of ships on his free time, takes pictures a lot-

He found out he enjoyed keeping pictures of things he liked, plus taking odd ones of his siblings. It was just… harmless fun, more often than not he went to the port to take pictures of the ships. He wondered how it would feel to have his own.

Still that's a dream for someone else.

Peter Fairchild is happy with the quaint little life he has.

It stands to reason that his life would be upturned on a Tuesday, Peter has a personal hate towards that day of the week and it makes sense that this happened then.

Aaron was running late, he had to help a friend move out and it took longer than expected, the cafe opened earlier than usual and there were a lot of people. Judith could not take all the orders on her own, and their sisters would not be able to help at least for another hour. So with a sigh and discomfort he goes to take orders.

They work faster like that at least.

Its when he asks about the order of some guy working on his laptop that he gets hit with something familiar.

“One black coffee and a chocolate croissant” The order rings alarm bells on his head so he looks to the face of the owner.

A man with curly auburn hair, red glasses and freckles gives him a practiced strained smile that he sees in more clients, but what actually makes him almost drop the paper he was writing on was the eyes, they were such a cool shade of grey.

He flounders and the man raises an eyebrow impatiently, so he writes quickly and goes back to get order. She gives him a puzzled look since she is usually the one taking them to the customers, but Peter shakes his head and works.

His hands move on autopilot to make the coffee, and even if he says black he puts just the right amount of milk and sugar that his mind provides.

Picking up one of the freshly made croissants and after hesitating a chocolate chip cookie he goes and gives it to the man quietly and without a word. That done and his sweaty palms and his heart going faster he goes to hide in the kitchen, expecting to get yelled at for messing up the order-

But nothing happens.

Judith comes to check on him, but Peter was at that point just cleaning up a little bit and waves her away. Nodding she hesitates and hugs him a little bit before going out. He lets out a breath and sighs.

Lydia and Clara come 10 minutes later and he can stay cooped out in the kitchen in peace. Still he can't help but to be nervous about the customer he gave the coffee and cookie.

Why did he change his order? It was insignificant but it just sounded right. Fretting a little he finishes cleaning the plates. Nothing else comes about and by the time they close the man is gone.

The feeling of loss becomes stronger.

He doesn't see him again for at least another 3 weeks, in fact the only reason he realizes is because Clara says there is a sour red head giving her and Judith the stink eye every time they try to get his order. His lips twitch upwards and he suggests sending Aaron, she rolls her eyes but asks the younger boy to go.

Its not five minutes later that he comes back just as perplexed.

“Is he trying to just get the wifi for free? I'm going to kick him off” Peter dries his hands and quietly prepares the order. Once he is done he sneaks out and delivers it to him, the man gives him a critical look that sends shivers down his spine. Both in disgust and familiarity.

“I didn't order yet”

“... Well you didn't let anyone take your order anyways” His lips purse in thought and he picks up the drink taking a sip. He puts the rest of his things down and goes to turn around to leave, when he asks how did he know how he takes his coffee.

Peter doesn't have a clue.

“You just looked like you needed something less bitter” He sees his mouth fall open slightly and Peter goes while feeling his ears burn, oh god why did he say that?

Once back in the safety of the kitchen, Judy gives him a look but pats his shoulder and goes out.

Ok, ok, he is fine.

The man keeps coming and refuses to let any of his siblings pick out his orders. So Peter is the one in charge to talk with him. Albeit that is an understatement. They merely snark a little, he gives him his order and goes. Whoever is working that day is supposed to charge him, Peter is only obligated to present the food. However the interesting thing is, that just as their cafe opens at weird hours of the day, the man appears there just as well, its kind of eerie how well he seems to know when it's open considering they have the oddest schedules.

Its in fact in one of those times they work at night that he sees him again. Usually he is very put together, but this time he looked… well messy. His hair looked as he had run his hands through it several times, his eyes were red and puffy and he honestly looked miserable.

Peter was completely baffled, the worst part is he wasn't sure what to do, or if he should say something.

The place was almost empty, his sister was keeping watch, so he just stands there and asks what he wanted that night.

He looks up to him and Peter has that feeling that this man should not be looking like this, he should be smug or sure of himself not… whatever this was. He also wanted to pull him towards him and that thought made his cheeks heat up.

“Just- heh, just surprise me i guess. Its been… its been one of those days” He is not sure what he means, but he nods and goes to make him something. Most of the names of the drinks and desserts were Lydia's ideas, the rest of his siblings alongside him were terrible at picking names. He is surprised they even let him pick the one of the cafe, but considering the other options, it was the least weird one.

Still they do have some that they chose for the orders.

Case in point.

The chocolate tower cake lovingly named the panopticon and his special coffee the watcher. It was named like that when it was proven that it had so much caffeine that it made you unable to sleep. He is sure he saw a guy stop blinking for like five minutes after insisting on drinking it, despite the warnings.

So once he grabs it, he takes it to the table and warns him.

“We are not responsible for the repercussions of drinking the watcher” The man looks at him and for the first time since he started to come he sees him smile, soon it turns into laughter. Peter watches while clutching the tray and feeling butterflies in his stomach.

He has a lovely laugh.

“What- what is so funny?”

“You- i- it doesn't matter. I get the name now I suppose. The cake?” The small chocolate tower had several fillings and it was very spongy and full of chocolate.

“Mm the panopticon is the best cake we have, surprised you didn't try it before little man” The slip up comes and he freezes expecting the man to say something or get annoyed, but all he does is sigh and smile more sadly at him.

“Thank you” Its weird and he is unsure what happened but he smiles back awkwardly.

He doesn't come back for 2 weeks.

Its raining when he sees him again.

It was Lydia and him and the place only had two clients sitting around drinking and talking amicably. He doesn't pay attention to the little whistle that lets them know someone entered, Simon thought it would be more fun than a bell.

Still his older sisters comes inside looking-

Frazzled?

Lydia is the most calm out of all of them so he immediately goes to see if she is fine, instead she shakes her head and points inside the cafe.

When he looks he sees the man, but he also realizes he has an awful bruise on his eye and chin as if someone had punched him. His heart sort of seizes and his sister goes out with him.

“Are you-”

“I want another watcher and panopticon” He doesn't let him finish, he is sitting close to the register. The man looks even more tired and wiped out.

“... I will get it?” Lydia elbows him. “Do you- do you want some ice for your face?” He can feel his sister disappointment and need to hit her forehead, but he honestly doesn't know what to say. The man, and he really needs to get a name, nods, so Peter prepares the order and gets some ice wrapped up for him.

“Thank you”

“You are welcome um..-?” He drifts and the man looks at him with one eye squinting due to the swelling.

“Jonah. In Jonah Magnus” He seems to be expecting something, yet Peter just nods.

“Peter Fairchild pleasure to meet you?” Lydia is giving him looks. Jonah seems to deflate, but smiles a little, albeit is tainted by the grimace of pain.

“Now that we have names can i eat?” He scowls but nods and lets him be. Still he checks on him from time to time and everytime he peeks from the kitchen window he sees him staring back at him. Peter blushes and works.

He leaves and he is left with questions.

Lydia acts very oddly and concerned about him and the man, but he waves her off.

Jonah comes back, still with the bruises but he looks more calm.

“I wanted to apologize for the scare, I had an altercation with… a friend. That went poorly as you can see” Peter nods and gives him his cookies.

“So- um.. I was wondering if perhaps as a… you know, treat for being so nice, you would like to go out to eat? Or well i was going to suggest getting some coffee but i think you might already be tired of it by now” It takes him a few seconds to realize he is asking him out. When he does he chokes on air and after thinking it a little he nods.

He sees Jonah smile become more real and realizes he was concerned he would say no. He also sees his cheeks start to slowly become more pink the more he stares. So he looks elsewhere and says they can pick a date later. Jonah nods, grabs the writing pad from his hands brushing their fingers and puts up a number.

“So we can arrange it more easily” Peter nods and laughs nervously while walking away. He feels them tingle pleasantly.

“YOU HAVE A DATE!!”

“With the weirdo Ju, i'm sure Peter can do better than him-”

“Cla don't be mean, plus he said yes so he is interested-!”

“That he is interested doesnt mean its good for him Aaron!”

“Don't be so sour-”

Lydia sits with him and they just watch TV calmly while the others talk in the kitchen making dinner. It was Saturday so they were having it in her apartment.

“Do you think it will make you happy?” The question is too particular, but his sister is always like that so he nods.

“It feels… right, more real than anything i suppose, i know its weird but i just…” He just sometimes feels as if he is sort of existing in some sort of empty space and that everything is his imagination.

Life is good. He has siblings that love him, a dad that cares for all of them instead of their original family that was terrible.

Peter has a job-

Life is perfect.

And yet-

This man is more real than anything else.

Like a splash of color in his grayscale world, he is infuriating with his answers when they have small talks at the cafe, but the banter is familiar, it gives him an ache that doesn't understand.

The same ache he thinks he got when he met James and Elias, only this time its because its right. Jonah is right. He is put out of his musings by a hand on his arm.

“I get it Peter… i really do. As long as you are happy its fine. Just… just know that we love you ok? Don't forget it” He tilts his head and sighs before giving her sister a side hug, the top of her head is a little below his collarbone, so he kisses it and says that he could never.

They meet up to actually have lunch.

Its… its nice.

Jonah is a little bastard and they spend time judging and betting on the people around. He also learns more about him.

He is working mostly in management, which he thinks suits him way too well, he seems bossy enough.

“Rude!” He grins at him and feels…

At ease.

The man likewise seems far more calmer and happy, it makes him oddly happy to see him like that.

They keep going out, sometimes for lunch, sometimes they get coffee somewhere else. But they do and the more he gets to hear him talk, the more he feels as if he had always know him, but just could not remember it. Sometimes Jonah seems that he knows him too and its sort of perplexing. Clara would say he stalked him, but its- there are such small things that its not possible for him to know, even if he had.

Its at their 6 date that he asks him to eat at his place. He looks surprised but nods.

When he opens the door and sees him, he almost stammers a holy fuck, he barely manages to get a hold of himself. Jonah looked-

Handsome, so so handsome. It sort of fried his brain a little bit.

So he lets him and tries to finish cooking to distract himself from saying something stupid or embarassing like-

Marry me.

No, no he is not that stupid.

Still Jonah offers to help and they work in tandem and it is such a familiar feeling he is left breathless.

They move as if they both already were used to having the other in their space, its… nerve wracking. Peter wants to know why.

The dinner is delicious and they end up curling on the couch watching tv, Jonah is using him as a giant pillow and Peter can't complain, the weight on top of him actually makes him feel comforted and also sleepy…

He sees the man yawn and before thinking it better asks if he wants to crash here since its late and they are both tired. Jonah blinks at him and he sees him hesitate, so he assures him he won't take it bad if he says no, it was merely a suggestions and-

He laughs and nods before hiding his face on the crook of his neck. He lets out a breath almost as if punched and feels his cheeks warm up while grinning like an idiot.

Once they change and he offers the man a shirt that hangs a little bit too loosely around his frame they get in bed and Peter sort of… stares, Jonah does the same.

“Hey” His lips twitch.

“Hey yourself” It's not clear which one of them moves first, but the next thing he knows they were kissing. It wasn't rushed or anything merely a press of their lips that sets him aflame inside. God he loves him doesn't he?

He loves-

He-

…

Oh.

Son of a bitch.

He bites his lip lightly making the man complain and then he pulls back.

“You sneaky bastard” He sees him frown and then light up with realization.

“Oh”

“Hello Elias” He frowns.

“Jonah if you don't mind” Peter mulls it over, thinking of James and Elias. It wasn't the body that he wanted.

It was the smug bastard that was piloting it that he loved.

“Jonah” The man shivers “I died” He sees him lock his jaw and close his eyes. How peculiar, he would not have hidden away before or shown… shame for what he can see on his face, he wonders what changed in this life.

Peter sees him swallow.

“You did” Nodding he thinks. He died, there were fear gods, he was a Lukas once upon a time, but now he was a Fairchild even if by adoption.

He grew alone, he grew with his siblings.

He was lonely, he was loved.

Peter sees a small tear escape Jonah along with his body being tightly coiled, as if waiting to sprint out.

The punches make sense now, if someone else remembered...

Letting out a breath and pulling at his hair in thought, Peter closes his eyes too and lets it all go over him. That was a life ago, and now? Now he is here and he was… content, but not happy.

Not until he found him again. Or more like Jonah found him.

Its easy honestly, the answer to what he wants to do with him and this chance.

Peter in his first life had only cared about two things, his god and Elias. One is gone, the other.. changed, but was still the same. The same man he had fallen in love with so many times, and in different ways through the years of their marriages and divorces.

The only one that had some form of hold over his heart.

“Come here my little siren” Jonah’s eyes flash open and he blinks a few more tears away before scrambling to his open arms. Its raining outside and the sound its what they hear beyond their breathing and the beating of their hearst. The lights of the room are dimmed and Peter finally feels right, he pulls the covers up and tangles their bodies together, fitting perfectly together.

Without forsaken he can admit it freely, that he loves this, loves the feeling of Jonah pressed against him, a different body, but also always the same.

He just needs to get used to it again, slowly playing with his hair he speaks.

“You are quite a bastard, but so am i and… as nice as this life is… i think its much better with you in it” Jonah shivers.

“What i'm trying to say is i missed you, even if i didn't remember you before. It was always like there was something amiss. A hole in my perfect little life”

“I-” He smiles tiredly.

“You didn't, i know, but its ok. I know you” Jonah shakes his head.

“I did- i just didn't know it either, i thought it was Barnabas at first, then the others, but… it was you. I missed you Peter, I really did…. Even- even in the apocalypse I still did, I would look into the lonely often. Useless sure, but i did” His plan had worked, but at the same time that was no longer their issue.

“Well I guess we are at an impasse. What do you want to do?”

“... I want- i want to stay, please” He thinks of his apartment, big enough for two.

“You will have to deal with my siblings and Simon, this time we stayed close” He snorts.

“If they don't kick me out, i was… an ass with them” Kissing his forehead Peter laughs.

“You were, but… they are happy for me”

“... then yes i would like to stay”

“Good, Jonah?” He looks up to him again, and Peter sees the eyes are the same, that this time they are right, leaning down he kisses him. They fumble in bed for a long while and when they are both sated and more used to each other's bodies, Peter lets the smaller man hug him from the back to cuddle and finally fall asleep.

“You know one would think you would enjoy the opposite of this-”

“I do, but i missed you, so hush and just sleep” He stays quiet for a little bit.

“Night Peter”

“Night, I love you”

“.... i love you too” He smiles.

In the morning they will make breakfast, Jonah goes to his place and he prepares to work. Once he sees him come in later on during the day he presents to him his order and gets a smile.

They will try to make this life count.

He wonders how long till he moves in with him.

On his way to buy groceries he sees a box with a familiar kitten left to the side of a building and he sighs. Better take his cat to the vet now, food can wait.

His sisters will be ecstatic.

Aaron not so much since he is allergic, but well.

It is his cat.

Life truly is good now.

He got his husband, his cat, family and job.

Humming along with the kitten pawing at his arms softly he feels the most happy as he has ever been.

[leossmoonn]

mind games [part nine]

masterlist | part eight | part ten

zuko x fem!reader fluff, angst smau (it has the social media elements, but not as much as the last series)

avatar: the last airbender

summary - being zuko’s best friend is the easiest thing in the world. until he gets a girlfriend and you realize you’re in love with him

warnings / includes  (this counts for any/all chapters) - fighting, suggestive, language, crying, alcohol, cheating, talk about injuries, making out, alluding to sex, talks about sex. you are sokka and katara’s older sister. you, mai, and zuko are seniors in college, sokka and suki are juniors, katara, aang, and toph are sophomores.

————

“hi, what can i get for you today?” you smiled. 

“i’d like a sticky bun and green tea, please,” your customer, who was a middle-aged woman, ordered.

you wrote down on your notepad, reaching down to grab her menu. “alright, coming right up.”

you walked back to behind the counter, getting out a sticky bun from the display case and warming up some water. as you waited, the doors to the JD opened. a familiar smell wafted through the restaurant and you couldn’t help but turn you head. a smile coming onto your face as you saw jet standing in the entrance, carrying a bouquet of flowers. 

“jet! what’re you doing here?” you asked, pouring hot water into a cup and placing tea leaves. 

“a boyfriend can’t come and surprise his girlfriend with flowers at her job?” jet grinned, holding the flowers out to you. 

“i gotta get this order out, then i’ll be with you, okay?” you said. you picked up the cup and plate, but katara snatched them out of your hand. 

“i got this, y/n. you go say hi to your boyfriend,” she grinned, taking over the food. 

you chuckled and went over to jet. “let’s go and sit down.”

he followed you to a corner booth, sitting very close to you once you got settled. 

“so, what brings you here today?” you asked. 

“today is our 3 month anniversary, so i just wanted to surprise you,” jet explained.

your eyes widened, “oh, god… is today our 3 months?”

jet furrowed his brows. “yeah… i-”

you started to laugh, cutting him off. he frowned, more confusion written on his face. 

“what-why are you laughing?” he asked. you smirked, putting your hand on his. 

“because your face was priceless!” you giggled. “oh, so you didn’t forget?” he asked. 

you shook your head and leaned into him. “of course not. i would never forget, baby.”

“oh, good. i mean, it would be fine if you did, i know you’re busy,” jet shrugged. 

“i’m never too busy for you,” you grinned, closing the gap between you two.

you kissed him with desire and passion, your hand dropping down from his hand to his thigh. he smiled into the kiss, snaking his hand on your hip, gripping you through your apron and jeans. 

“mmm, we have to stop,” you breathed out as you pulled away. 

“we’ll do more tonight,” jet grinned. “ooh, what’s the plan?” you asked. 

“i am taking you out,” he said. “wow, what a man,” you poked his arm teasingly. 

“you know me. i like to treat you,” he winked. 

“mhm, and you do it well,” you giggled, leaning in to give him another kiss. 

“y/n, you have to get back to work,” zuko’s voice sounded in front of you.

you pulled away immediately, your face going red. 

“sorry,” you chuckled. “when shall i get ready?” you turned back to jet. 

“whenever your shift is done. i’ll be picking you up at 6,” he answered. 

“sounds good. thank you so much for the flowers and the visit. i can’t wait to see you tonight,” you smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“you, too,” he smiled, getting up out of the seat. “nice seeing you, zuko,” jet said as he walked past. 

“yeah, you, too,” zuko nodded, still looking at you.

you stood up, adjusting your clothes and grabbing the bouquet. 

“what’s got your undies in a twist?” you asked zuko. “nothing,” he shrugged. 

“oh, c’mon, we just made up a week ago. don’t shut me out now,” you pouted. 

zuko couldn’t help but smile at your puppy dog face. “it’s just that mai has never visited me at work or anything.”

you frowned. “oh… well, do you want a flower?” you asked and plucked one out from your bouquet. 

“ah, no thanks. these are yours.” zuko said. “go ahead and take it. you deserve something nice, even if it’s not from your girlfriend,” you smiled. 

you held out the flower and zuko took it slowly. 

“thanks, y/n. mai could learn a thing or two from you,” zuko joked. 

“well, she doesn’t really seem like the affectionate type,” you snorted. 

“yeah,” zuko sighed. “well, don’t fear. just keep giving her love and eventually, hopefully, she’ll give you it back,” you smiled.

“hopefully,” zuko gave you a small smile. 

————

“where you two going?” toph asked. 

“i have no idea. somewhere nice, i assume,” you shrugged, putting in hoop earrings. 

“are you two gonna have sex?” suki asked. you scoffed, “i’m not answering that.”

“so, yes?” she giggled. “no-maybe? i don’t know,” you shrugged. 

“have you two slept with each other yet?” katara asked. 

“no,” you shook your head. “not even oral? damn, you two are missing out,” toph laughed. 

your eyes widened. “we have done oral! just not like, intercourse. ugh, this is such a weird conversation.”

“it’s not! we’re your girlfriends, you’re supposed to tell us everything,” katara said. 

“not everything,” you muttered. you stepped away fro the mirror, checking yourself out before you left. 

“he’s definitely gonna wanna smash you in that,” suki smirked. 

“i hate you all,” you grumbled. 

“we love you, too,” toph grinned. 

you couldn’t help but smile. you heard a knock at the door and you went to walk out of your room. 

“have fun!” katara called out. “will do. thanks, guys,” you smiled back at them before walking down the stairs. 

you opened the door, grinning brightly as you saw jet at the door with a polar dog plushie and a red, velvet box. he was wearing a purple dress shirt with black slacks, a dark purple bow tie around his neck. he looked very different than usual. Still handsome, just more classy. 

“hello, sexy,” you smirked. “i should be saying that to you. you look gorgeous,” he eyed your body that was in a tight-fitting, blue dress and black heels. 

“thank you. i try,” you shrugged shamelessly. “and you never fail to impress. are you ready to go?” he asked. 

“yep,” you nodded, stepping out of the house and locking the door behind you.

you walked to his car, jet opening the door for you. you stepped in, thanking him as he shut the door. he then went over to his side and once he got settled in, he went to give you your gifts.

“thank you for the plushie,” you smiled as you hugged it. 

“you’re welcome. it’s not just a regular stuffed animal, though. you can heat it up or freeze it to help with muscle aches or your period cramps,” jet explained. 

your eyes widened, “woah, wait. seriously? oh, my god. this is so cool! i love you so much.”

jet’s eyes flew wide open. “w-what did you say?” 

you furrowed your brows, “i said it’s really cool and… oh. i-i said i love you.”

jet gulped visibly. “d-do you mean it?” you smiled at him, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“of course i do,” you cooed. “i’ve just never said it until now. you don’t have to say back if you’re not ready, though. it just kinda came to me naturally, i guess.”

jet shook his head furiously. “no, no. i-i am ready. i was actually planning on saying it after the home-cooked meal i made.”

“you cooked for me?” you awed. “well, yeah, i know how much you love my meals,” he smiled.

“hm, i do. you know me so well,” you poked. 

jet chuckled, “of course i do. and i love you. so, so much.”

“hm, i’m glad,” you giggled. “here’s my gift to you.” you pulled out a few boxes from your purse. 

“oh, you shouldn’t have,” jet said. “oh, please. you would have definitely cried if i didn't give you a gift,” you scoffed, handing the boxes to him. 

jet chuckled as he opened the bigger one. he held up a jersey that you had gotten custom-made for him. 

“i-is this…. my number?” he asked, looking at the back and seeing his basketball number and last name. 

“yep,” you smiled. “i know a few of your friends have their jersey’s still and you don’t have yours anymore, so i decided to make one for you. i know how much you loved playing basketball in high school and i know how much you loved the jersey.”

“i do. thank you so much. this is definitely going up on my wall,” he smiled big, leaning into kiss you on the cheek. 

“you’re welcome. open the other one. this one is more of like an our-gift thing,” you explained. “be careful, it’s fragile, too.”

he nodded, opening the package gently. he smiled as he saw a collage of photos from your first date to your last date a few weeks ago. 

“this is really cute,” he gushed, looking at the 20 photos of you. 

“i think so, too. i made myself one also. it’s hanging up in my room,” you chuckled.

“i’ll make sure to hang these up on my wall high and proud,” he said. 

“good. so, i saw you have a box for me, too?” you asked. 

“yes, yes,” he smiled. he handed you it. 

you opened it excitedly, seeing that he had bought you charm bracelet and matching anklet. 

“these are so cute, thank you,” you smiled. “help me put these on?”

jet nodded and took out the bracelet, clipping it to your wrist. he then took the anklet, reaching down. his fingers skimmed the bare skin on your legs, making your whole body light on fire. you eyed him carefully as he clipped the piece of jewellery around your ankle. after he clipped the anklet, he stayed in this position, his eyes snaking up to you. 

butterflies overwhelmed your stomach as he licked his lips seductively. the action caused you to have a full-body shiver.

“jet, we should go to your apartment,” you suggested. 

“we should. are you hungry?” he asked, sitting back again. 

“very,” you said. “me, too,” his eyes went dark. 

you smiled bashfully and turned your head away, looking to your feet. jet drove you to his place, his hand resting on your thigh the whole ride, slowly going up with each passing second. 

you wiggled in your seat. feeling the warmth grow under your dress. you felt like you knew what was going to happen to night. your heart started to race with just thinking about it. it wasn’t like it was your first time, but it would be your first time with jet. despite all the nerves you were feeling, you were excited to see where this night would take you. you trusted jet immensely and was ready to consent to whatever was going to happen. 

the sexual tension in the car grew so thick, by the time you got your foot in his house, jet smashed his lips onto yours. you moaned quietly in surprise, your arms wrapping around his neck. you entangled your fingers into his hair, kissing him roughly. 

jet kicked the door closed and locked in quickly, then walking you backwards inside. 

“do you want to eat real food or go upstairs?” jet pulled away. 

you looked into his eyes, your pupils wide and full of lust. “upstairs.”

jet smirked and put his hands under your thighs, lifting you up quickly. you yelped and giggled, pressing your lips to his in a slow, but eager kiss. he walked you two upstairs, going into his room. he threw you on the bed smoothly, looking down at you with hungry eyes and wet lips. he started to unbutton his shirt and you took your heels off. 

you laid on your back, ready for jet to climb on the bed. he took his shirt off, your eyes roaming around his chiseled chest. he climbed on the bed, approaching you like a predator. you couldn’t help but smile as he went in between your legs, his left hand setting next to your head to support himself and his right hand setting on your waist. 

he lowered himself down and kissed you sweetly, his lips peppering kisses down from your lips to your neck. 

“jet,” you hummed, your hands pulling at his hair on the nape of his neck. 

he sucked on your sweet spot, smelling your perfume. the hand that was on your waist trailed down to your thigh, his fingers slipping up your dress. 

“is this okay?” he muttered into your neck. 

“mmhm, keep going,” you moaned, moving your hips so he would be able to touch you quicker. 

“eager,” he smirked, trailing down to your collar bone. 

you hummed in reply, your hands leaving his neck and going down to the back of your dress, unzipping it. jet went to help you, his eyes admiring your body as you slipped off your dress. you smiled and unclipped your bra, dropping it to the ground. 

“before we uh, continue. i wasn't sure if you picked up on this, but i was hoping, well, wondering if you wanted to take the next step. not just emotionally, but physically, too,” he suggested, looking deep into your eyes. 

you smiled at him, your fingernails running up and down against his back. 

“i know, i picked up on some of the clues. and i was thinking on the drive a lot and i want to advance this, too. so i’m ready if you are,” you answered. 

jet smiled widely. “i love you.”

you smirked, “why don’t you show me instead of telling?”

jet’s smile turned into a teasing smirk. “say no more.”

————

Like and Reblog !

note - hot and heavy lol

taglist is open, just lmk if you wanna be on it for this series by messaging me, commenting, and/or send me a message!

@theblueslytherin @thatarthistorynerd @coldlilheart @akiris @serenitytomothings

[a-duck-with-a-book]

REVIEW // Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle, #1) by Jay Kristoff

★☆☆☆☆

So I’m very late to the party, but I just finished reading Nevernight by Jay Kristoff I had such high hopes for this series based off of what people recommending it had told me and what I read about it before picking up. Dark fantasy? Check. Strong leading lady? I’m here for it. Gays? It’s literally my only personality trait. Sign me up. Unfortunately, this book fell flat in all those categories. It reminded me a lot of Sarah J. Maas’s Throne of Glass, which made me take one point off of to begin with simply for making me think of Maas’s writing. Overall, I just found the book to be too predictable, with bad writing, exposition, and pacing, and too many parts that just made me ~uncomfortable~.

In case you are not familiar with this novel, Nevernight tells the story of Mia Corvere, a girl who lost her family when she was a child after her father was convicted of treason. When the book begins, she is 16 years old and embarking on a journey to join the Red Church, a school for assassins, so that she may one day be able to avenge her father’s death. Along the way she meets a bunch of forgettable characters whose names I can’t be bothered to remember and is taught by the most fearsome killers in the Republic. Here she gains many valuable skills, like how to survive being poisoned, how to fight, and how to get big boobs.

+ Side note: by chapter 3 three I started picturing Mia as the crow guy from RWBY and I could not shake that for the rest of the book

I had many issues with this novel that I will try to summarize in some sort of coherent fashion, but to be honest this book sucked the will to live out of me so I don’t know how much energy I can put into this review.

// image: official cover art by Jason Chan //

FOOTNOTES

The footnotes were probably the most jarring element of the book for me, and, unfortunately, there’s a lot of them. Their function seems to be twofold:

they are the form of most of the world-building, explaining several customs, the history of the institutions and peoples Mia meets, and the mythology followed by the people of the Republic.

they allow for the narrator of our story to interrupt with comical one-liners or cryptic foreshadowing

In my humble opinion, both of these are unnecessary and stupid. The interruptions come off as crass and immature and make the other more textbook, boring exposition come off as a joke, especially when it is dealing with sensitive or serious topics. There is one that explains this brothel called the Seven Flavors, which the footnote explains refer to “Boy, Girl, Man, Woman, Pig, Horse, and, if sufficient notice and coin was given, Corpse.” Now, on its own, this passing mention of pedophilia, bestiality, and necrophilia could very well contribute to the world building and tone of the novel, but when placed side by side with the childish, joking tone of the “cue the violiiiiiiiins” or, regarding the acoustics of a room, “…they were, as it happens, exceptional. Falalalalalalaaaaaaaa”, come off as way too light-hearted for the topic at hand. Maybe I’m being way too sensitive, but I’m pretty tired of authors using serious topics as off-hand remarks as a lazy way to make their world daker and grittier. Plus, these footnotes were just so incredibly cringy that I would recoil from second-hand embarrassment every time. They resemble the things I wrote when I was 14 and trying (and miserably failing) to be funny. Also… there are way too many of them. While at first I appreciated the attempt to deepen the lore of the story (I’m a sucker for world-building), after a while it became evident that the author was just forcing information down our throats without taking the time to actually weave the lore and background into the story itself. It came off as a very lazy way to force exposition.

OVERLY FLOWERY LANGUAGE

This story is BRIMMING with similes and metaphors, like every other sentence is some overly complicated way to describe something that could have been presented in three words. When you include so many metaphors/similes/etc., they begin to lose power. They should allow the reader to extrapolate more meaning and emotion from a sentence, but if the book is bursting at the seams with them, they become increasingly ordinary, to the point of losing all of their luster. One prime example appears on page 30:

“It was a bucktoothed little shithole, and no mistake. Not the most miserable building in all creation. [here there is a footnote about some other inn/brothel] But if the inn were a man and you stumbled into him in a bar, you’d be forgiven for assuming he had—after agreeing enthusiastically to his wife’s request to bring another woman into their marriage bed—discovered his bride making up a pallet for him in the guest room.”

So first of all what the fuck is that supposed to mean? That whole paragraph is a fever dream. Let’s begin with “bucktoothed little shithole”. Bucktoothed? Really? What does that mean. Please, someone explain to be right now what a bucktoothed building is. Is it uneven? Is it awkward? Is it half-finished? Is one side longer than the other? Did they do a bad paint job that only covers on side? Are the windows askew? Is the door too big for its frame? We already know from the paragraph above that it is “disheveled” as well, so why the need for another weird phrasing of its appearance? We then move on to that whole JOURNEY of a sentence, where the inn is compared to a man being cuckolded. That is the most insane tale-can you imagine running into someone in a bar and that story being the VERY FIRST thing that runs through your mind??? I know I’m focusing way too much on this stupid paragraph, but basically what I am trying to get at is that even though we spend half a page talking about how bucktoothed and disheveled and cuckolded this building is, we get no actual physical description of it. Imagine if Kristoff had just written that it was a run-down, ill-kept building that looked as worse for wear as its owner did. Done, one sentence. Great. Let’s move on. Instead, we spend so long reading these absolutely batshit descriptions that ultimately tell us next to nothing. Flowery language is placed over actual context. You may think that a description this long and complex means that this inn is a significant or recurring setting in the novel. Nope. It’s not. Mia leaves and that’s that. The reason that I’m focusing so much on this objectively irrelevant paragraph is because it is so representative of the biggest issue I have with the writing in this book. There are so many unnecessary comparisons that function only to make the author feel clever rather than add anything to the story at all. It’s very à la 2010s Tumblr.

THE (IN MY OPINION, BAD) WRITING

For the first half of the book, we are constantly being TOLD things rather than being SHOWN things. With the exception of one of the teachers cutting off Mia’s arm, we rarely see the ruthlessness that the assassins are so feared for, but we hear about it in nearly every other sentence Where are the consequences? I think this book would have been way more enjoyable if there were actually consequences to the characters’ actions. The inclusion of the weaver and the weird vampire guy completely remove any tension regarding the fate of the central cast. When Mia had her arm chopped off, I was shocked, and pleasantly surprised. How was she going to overcome this unexpected obstacle in her training? Then a couple pages later, its reattached with absolutely no lasting consequences. All of the initial tension and shock value of the loss of Mia’s arm is entirely removed because of the two incest-y siblings. Their entire purpose for existing is just to undo all damage to the main characters. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Mia is willing to take on a ton of consequences and completely throw away her chance at becoming initiated in order to avenge her family just to save Tric from receiving like one punishment??? Like why?? As an aside, the only moment I truly enjoyed was when Ash fucking stabbed Tric to death. I assume that when the reader’s favorite moment is one of the central characters’ death, it does not bode well for their reception of the book.

THE THEMES

TW: rape-y subjects

The author seemed a little too keen to include rape and sexual assault in his story. Mia withdrew her consent in the sex scene in the very first chapter, and even if you read it as consensual (which I do not), it is described as incredibly unpleasant on her end. Tric is the result of a rape, which is brought up several times throughout the story. Further, Mia is constantly facing harassment from men. I understand that this is frames the idea that the world she lives in is misogynistic and ruthless, but there are other ways to push that idea through other than constantly putting in her in those situations. As in, this didn’t need to be the ONLY way we explored this subject. Beyond the uncomfortable propensity for sexual assault, I also very much disliked the sexualization of the 16-year-old main character. Oh. My. Gosh. Mia is CONSTANTLY sexualized. Every single damn character makes comments about her body, how hot she is, how much sex she potentially has. It is so weird and uncomfortable. I feel the need to reiterate that she is SIXTEEN. There is, however, a focus placed on the power Mia can gain from seducing her targets. Girl power? Not to me, really. The issue I have with this is the idea that a woman has to be overtly sexual in order to be considered powerful. This is something that we can see in many female assassins and supposedly powerful female characters in fiction (like Black Widow) especially those written by men. Now, there is nothing wrong with using one’s sexuality as a weapon, and I’m certainly not saying that a strong female character cannot be sexual, but the idea that a sixteen-year-old girl is shown having her body painfully modified tp be more desirable, and in a graphic sex scene with another character, in order to for the reader to read her as liberated and powerful does not sit well with me. I don’t really feel like this aspect of her training should be relevant to the overall story. I wish the time that Kristoff had dedicated to hammering into our heads that Mia is a femme fatale to developing her Darkin powers instead. The way she is written now feels more like she is a faux strong female character written for a male audience.

Secondly, Mia is fully written as “the plain-girl-who-is-actually-pretty”. This whole trope bothers me IMMENSELY. YA is full of girls who are described as plain, forgettable, or ugly while their physical descriptions are just the dictionary definition of conventionally attractive. It seems like a way to market off of girls’ self-consciousness while still being able to market the main character as a hot heroine in official art. And there is, of course, the issue of Mia’s boob job Readwithcindy (just “withcindy” now!) did a whole video about this so I won’t get into it much just to repeat what she already said, but I agree that the idea of a 30-something year old man including this completely unnecessary detail regarding the sexualization of teenage girl, who we have ALREADY seen in a rape and being sexualized by other men in the story, made me really, really, uncomfortable. I highly recommend you go watch her video, as she touches on this in way more detail. [Cindy's video

RATINGS

Worldbuilding: ★★☆☆☆

A lot of thought obviously went into the world-the mythology, society, and politics are well-thought out. But the way they are introduced is annoying and bland. It seems like the author put a lot of effort into constructing this world but realized a lot of it would be left out of the book, so he crammed it into footnotes instead.

Tone and writing style: ★☆☆☆☆ for first half, ★★★☆☆ for second half

The tone of the first half is all over the place, like it doesn’t know if it should be dark and gritty or comical and immature. Footnotes and character dialogue ranges from lighthearted and crass to seeped with themes of torture and sexual assault. It is jarring, to say the least, and often feels like the author doesn’t take these ideas of rape or violence seriously. There are so many instances where the scene is tense or gritty, and Kristoff is actually writing it pretty well, I’m enthralled and on the edge of my seat, and then Mia or some other character (or the footnotes) throw in some stupid comment or make the same “Mia is such an asshole lol” joke for the billionth time and completely ruin the mood of that scene. The second half of the book moved much faster and was helped with way better writing, but it really did not do enough to make up for the horrendous structure of the first half of the book.

Pacing and structure: ★☆☆☆☆

The first half of the book really drags on. Once we arrive at the school, there are constant jumps in timeline, marked with periods when a thousand things happen all at once and the plot moves forward at a dizzying rate, and others when the characters just seem to be going about their daily lessons.

Concept: ★★★☆☆

I found the overall idea of the books to be very interesting, even though it is certainly not the most original or unique concept for a YA fantasy book. The issue is that the potential is squandered with a poor execution.

Characters: ★☆☆☆☆

I truly did not care about any of the characters. The token mean girl, the bumbling nice-guy-who-is-definitely-the-love-interest. too many of the characters just sat nicely within their tropes, doing nothing much to pique my interests. I think my favorite overall was Mister Kindly.

[emilycollins00]

hello! i've recently stumbled across your works and i really love your characterization and writing uwu if it's not too much, is it okay for me to request for a scenario where some actors accidentally found out that their director is actually good dancer? like maybe somebody was watching tv and 'hey doesn't that backup dancer look familiar?' ((you can decide on whoever finds out about it and you can also choose to use izumi's name or just write mc)) AAAA thank you very much! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡

Thank you, dear! 💕 I feel so happy when I read I you guys like it. Sometimes it gets difficult to not fall into OOC!

I opted to choose Izumi, mainly because I don’t think I’ve written anything with her even though I love her so much! As for the actors, well, couldn’t decided wich one so everyone is making an appearance.

 Hope you like it!  💕

The dorm discovering Izumi’s dancing skills

“Tenma, hurryyyyy”

“Yeah, yeah... Uh? Hey, who didn’t wash their dishes this morning, it stinks!” the summer leader complained outloud, leaving the kitchen with Misumi with the last chopsticks and glasses to place on the lounge. 

Tsuzuru entered and looked at the sink, frowning. Indeed, it smelled awful. He walked towards the couches to get the culprit.

“Itaru-san, don’t ask me why, but I know whatever that was in that plate was yours. Please clean it right now”

“Oh shit, my shield fell” 

The man in question was laying next to Kazunari and Banri, all of them most likely playing a battle game, judging by the way they were staring intensely at their phones.

 “Itaru-san!”

“Yes, yes, one minute…”

“Dang, Itaroon! You can’t pull something like that to win, I don’t have any more resources!”

Omi put a hand on Tsuzuru’s shoulder when he saw the scriptwriter was about to start scolding them “It’s okay Tsuzuru, we have enough plates. Itaru-san can clean later so dinner doesn’t get cold”

At that moment Juza, Taichi, Muku and Sakuya arrived. 

“Ah, Omi-san! After Tenma-kun and Misumi-san finish the table will be set” the cheerily the spring leader informed approaching them.

“At least we get things done quickly, having so many people at Mankai” Tsuzuru smiled tired but gratefully at the four of them “…although it would be quicker if others offered to help from time to time” he looked at the gaming group and a certain pair watching TV.

“Tsuzuru, this program is too important to sip!”

“You mean to skip? Also, I truly don’t think so. That’s one old program you’re watching” he looked around resting his hands on his hips. No one had moved an inch “That indirect was also to the rest of you, you know”

“Noted” 

“Aha”

“So you want me to set the table instead of trying to come up for ideas with customes? Fine by me”

Misumi and Tenma entered before an argument could take place “Table’s set. Someone should call Masumi, Sakyo-san and the winter troupe. They were in the practice room with director, right?” 

As if by pure summoning, the last spring member arrived, taking off his headphones “…I’m here��

“We are here too!” Tsumugi waved as the rest of the winter troupe entered talking to each other. Their play schedule had been decided and they had had a run through while Izumi and Sakyo discussed the final details for the performance.

“Okay then everyone, time to dig in!”

                                         …………………………..

Everyone sat on their chairs and started moving plates around and refilling glasses with drinks. It wasn’t often, due to the difference in schedules, but some nights the whole dorm got together and opted to eat at the same time. It was a bit of a mess but in the end, everyone had fun.

Citron was still watching silently the TV when he paused it, concerned. Getting up, he headed to the dinner table as everyone ate and talked “Director?”

Izumi looked up, stopping  herself from grabbing the delicious tonkatsu in front of her “You called, Citron? Ah, leave the TV and sit, come on. Omi’s food will get cold!” she motioned the chair that was empty.

He did as told, but kept his eyes locked on her “Director I must ask you an important question”

“Uh… ok?”

He nodded as his chopsticks grabbed some rice “Are you maybe a twist?”

Everyone turned to him, confused, but not surprised. The young woman found herself blinking in confusion too “…Twist?”

Masumi nodded in agreement “You can twist my heart anytime you want”

No one even tried to contradict the young boy, still trying to decipher Citron’s meaning.

“I don’t think Citron means twist”

“…Twix”

“Yeah Hyodo sure, Citron meant Twix. I swear your brain is a fucking sugar cube”

“You are sweet like a twix to me, director”

“Ugh, someone tell the Psycho Stalker off”

“Y-yuki-kun!”

“Citron, I don’t think your phrasing is right” Tsumugi laughed as he saw everyone starting to debate. 

The foreigner crossed his arms, deep his thought “Mmm… this word is meant to be a clone… of another person! Is it close enough, Tsumugi?”

“C-clone?!” Taichi looked up from his seat, eyes wide open “Director has a clone?!”

“Guys, come on...”

“Mhm… I might be wrong, but maybe Citron meant if our dear director has a twin?”

Citron gasped “Twin, yes! Azuma’s wisdom is as always precise!”

The winter member received the compliment from the blond with a soft laugh as the rest frowned. Sakuya raised his hand from the other side of the table “U-Um! Why do you say that, Citron-san?”

“You have sisters?” Tasuku raised his eyebrows at Izumi.

“Of course not! I’m an only child”

“But that cannot be. I saw you with my two very eyes!”

“Me?”

He nodded seriously, getting up from the chair and turning on the TV again “I will demonstrate now, the director’s clone!”

Izumi sighed. Why couldn’t they have a normal night? Just for once. It was weekday for christ’s sake. The sudden gasps and exclamations brought her back to reality.

“It really looks like Izumi-san!”

“She looks younger though, is it really her?”

“Waaah, director you are moving so beautifully!”

“Wait, seriously?”

Izumi got up and approached the TV screen, concerned for the amount of attention it was getting “Come on, how can I-“

“That is you, isn’t it?” Sakyo pointed the TV with his head.

As everyone came to the realization that it was indeed Izumi. the woman in question stood there, watching her younger self.

“Oh, you meant that!” she sat on the arm of the couch, forgetting dinner and the fact that everybody was still trying to make sense of it. Their director? In TV? “It’s not been that long but... ” she laughed “Might be the one and only time I made it for a play in a performance, come to think of it!”

Kazunari, who was at that point recording the whole situation, turned his phone towards her in awe “I am beyond SHOCK, director! What play? How come we didn’t know you danced so well? Any declarations?”

She pushed the phone away from her, laughing “I did my studies and entered in the dancing club from my university for a change of peace”

“But this amazing choreography? The moves? Not to mention you are totes on TV!”

She looked  back at the TV and a smiled appeared. Competing in friendly dancing competitions had been nice at the time “That program shows musicals, right? My university dancing club just happened to want to enter the competition and we decided to do a mute dancing play trying to tell a story without speaking. Forgot it had been recorded then”

Everyone stopped talking and looked at each other.

“…Oh”

“That’s right”

“Director had another life before Mankai…”

“Feels weird to think about it”

Izumi blinked confused. Of course, she had tried to make a life outside of acting! It had been rough, but she had had to come to terms with herself that she had to move on, at the time.

“Ey, ey, director let’s dance too!” Misumi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the courtyard. She found herself stumbling to keep up.

“W-whoah, Misumi-kun, we haven’t finished eating!”

He laughed releasing her as he tried to copy what they all had watched “That looked fun! What other dances did you do?”

Izumi laughed at his excitment.

“Well, there was nothing specific…?” she listed a few songs on the top of her head. The rest of the dorm gathered around the frames of the courtyard, watching curiously. 

“I also want to see director’s dancing!”

“Anyone has a phone?”

“On it~”

“Enough! Why are you…” Sakyo came out too, ready to start scolding when one of the songs mentioned before started playing and saw Izumi’s bright face.

It was as if some kind of adrenaline had been injected into her, enough to make her body start moving along the music, not a single movement being wasted.

It had been a while.

                                       ………………………………

“Oh my, such a stunning view… the turning of grand jetes! If this moment was to be engraved…”

Hisoka frowned next to him “Arisu… you’re too loud. Can’t enjoy it” 

“Director… is really good!” Sakuya was practically beaming as he watched Izumi moving around “She looks like a fairy!”

No one there disagreed. Her movements flowed, taking away the breath of every person in that familiar audience. Izumi had never been able to act well, but somehow her dancing expressed more than she could in a play.

Omi smiled at the view and crossed his arms “A pity I left the camera in my room” he looked at his left and saw how Sakyo looked at her.

The blond’s eyes followed her figure entranced, not moving an inch.

A few minutes later, Izumi stopped, breathing heavily after song. She looked up, greeted by a big amount of applause. Were those claps for her? Her cheeks grew hot. She didn’t remember last time she got an applause and smiled bashfully.

“Fufu that was wonderful, Izumi-san”

“Epic. I think I just fell in love all over again, director! Gonna need to post the clip on my instablam!”

“Not bad. I guess currian has another thing she’s good at, uh”

“Well, if we ever have a dancing play, now we know who to ask for notes, isn’t that right, Tsuzuru?” 

Taichi gasped in excitement looking at the scriptwriter “Oh man, I definitely want to do a dancing play now, girls would love it!”

Of course, as theatre fanatics as they were, the conversation headed into their future performances.

“Maybe like a musical?”

“But dancing as you act is…”

“I want to do a triangle dance in our play!”

Izumi laughed, gaining everyone’s attention “Okay, okay, this is enough. Let’s go back and finish dinner. Can’t believe you all tricked me to dance in front of you, geez” she still felt her breath uneven from the workout.

“But you did look beautiful out there, director” Tsumugi smiled as he pushed a complaining Taichi and entranced Masumi inside.

Tasuku sighed as he watched everyone returning to their normal behaviors “Well, I guess we must thank you are more an acting addict than a dancer” he sent a small smile to Izumi, placing a hand on her shoulder and going inside to help the adults tame the youngest.

Izumi was about to follow when she heard Sakyo’s voice from behind “You danced well”

“Ah, Sakyo-san, thanks”

He dropped his eyes momentarily before looking at everyone going back to finish dinner inside “…Think you will miss it? Dancing like that”

Izumi lifted her head up and closed her eyes, enjoying the night’s breeze. She had set it aside for so long she hadn’t really been able to think about it.

Dancing to her was like turning back the clock, returning to a previous life that might have been good. However, she had always felt something was missing. 

She smiled tenderly. Just thinking about everyone at the dorm made her heart go warm. 

“It’s become a good memory to keep”

She tore her gaze away from the night sky to smile at him, assuring him that she was being honest to those words just said.

True. She had loved dancing, but theatre? Ah.

That was her life.

_________________________________________________________

I enjoyed it a lot, hopefully, you guys did too. Have a wonderful day!  💕

[thebrownssociety]

Across The Serververse, Chapter 7

Back on the spaceship a debate was brewing. 

“-But all I’m saying is that it makes sense to get Sam!” Penelope said, for about the 5th time. “Then we know we’ve got everyone who was connected with the cartoon network universe!”

“But that’s completely illogical.” Marvin said, bluntly. “Sam, as we know, can take care of himself and is unlikely to cause great harm to himself or others. Sam is also in the ‘Wacky Racers’ universe, which is not unlike our own. Wile.E and Roady however are in the ‘Mad Max’ universe. That’s a completely different ballgame, so to speak, and we should retrieve them first so they can’t cause damage to other people, each other and themselves in that order.”

Bugs sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why, WHY did he think this would be simple? Just go round the universes and get everyone back. A hard conversation may be needed here and there [he was anticipating one with Daffy, for instance] but on the whole he was certain the others would come back. After all, why wouldn’t they? The entire family was here after all, would they really want to be left behind?

Just as Tweety was yelling that actuawwy GRANNY would be a good idea as she was - and direct quote - ‘owd and fwail’ [which Bugs personally found hilarious as he’d seen frailer cement mixers] the decision was taken out of there hands. 

“Stop!” Pepe yelled at the top of his lungs, seeing he now had everyone’s attention he said, calmly. “Why do we not see what planet we are closest to and retrieve the toons on there, yes? Make it simple, no?”

A thought flashed across Bugs’s mind that if they carried on down that route it meant Fudd would be last, but he shook the thought away like it was an irritating insect. Fudd would be fine, Bugs reasoned, he was more quick-witted and intelligent than people gave him credit for. He would be fine. Fine! Absolutely fine...

Marvin smiled [or at least the others assumed he was smiling. It was a bit hard to tell] and ‘full-speeded ahead’ to Mad Max Universe.

“Be careful!” Pepe yelled as Penelope crashed into him. “You are not on the racing track now, non?”

Marvin - somewhat uncharacteristically - ignored him and just landed the spaceship with a small ‘thud!’ “Well.” The Martian said, as he zeroed in on Wile.E’s and the Roadrunners trackers. “Here we are. The Mad Max universe. There was a pause before Marvin said, with faux brightness. “So, who’s going to volunteer to get our two brothers then?”

It soon transpired that it was Bugs himself who was going to ‘volunteer’ for this no doubt arduous task, what with the rabbit being the fastest amongst them. 

“How do I get meself into dese situations?” Bugs wondered aloud, as he stood in the middle of a dust road looking for any sign of either the road runner or the coyote. Then he saw it. The familiar dust trail of the roadrunner which Bugs knew from previous experience meant he was about five-

-zoom!-

...make that two seconds away. And if the roadrunner was here, that meant the coyote wasn’t that far behind-

-zoom!-

Aaaaaannnnnnnnddddddddddd there he went! Bugs turned tail and ran after him. 

Wile.E, Bugs could hardly fail to notice, looked like an advertisement for leather. Leather coat, leather gloves and a weird looking mask tied across his eyes, making him look like a robber. In one hand he wielded what looked like a extended litter-picker with the end significantly modified so it was [in theory] capable of catching roadrunners. The other hand was clutching the steering wheel of the motorbike he’d presumably ‘borrowed’ from somewhere. 

Bugs ran flat out as he did his best to get level with the coyote, and it was a testament to his abilities and pig-headed determination that he actually managed it. “Wile.E!” Bugs called, loudly in order to ensure he was heard over the noise. “Wile E! It’s me Bugs!”

The coyote looked at him in startled surprise, taking his eyes of the road for literally about two seconds, but that two seconds was all the universe needed for Wile.E to fall flat on his face and go skidding into a rock, which caused a boulder to fall from above onto him, just for good measure.

Bugs winced and slowly sidled up to the rock where the coyotes arm was sticking out from under it. The rabbit waited for his younger brother to come crawling out from under it, probably glaring daggers, but nothing happened. After a few more seconds he got concerned and tried to move the boulder himself. 

Back in Tune World this wouldn’t be a problem. As long as Bugs timed it at either a funny moment, or a moment that made sense within the narration, he’d have been able to do it. But, Bugs realised as he pushed, shoved and yelled curses at the rock, this wasn’t Toon World.

“Beap, beap!”

Bugs let out a shout of surprise and jumped about ten metres in the air, before landing with a thud. He sighed, got up and turned to see the road runner examining the rock critically. Seeing Bugs looking at him, Roadie held up a sign which said. ‘You get one side, I’ll get the other.’

Really, Bugs thought, this might be a good time to get Marvin’s disintegration ray, or maybe the other toons, but he didn’t really have time to argue so he just grabbed the other end of the rock [which was thankfully quite jagged, so easy enough to get a grip onto as opposed to the smooth round boulders that usually fell on Wile.E.] and together he and Roadie lifted the boulder of off the coyote and looked at the crushed noodle-like body beneath it.

Bugs stared silently, trying to digest what had just happened, while the roadrunner donned a black suit and tie and threw a random wreath at the coyote’s still body.

As soon as that wreath made contact with Wile.E’s stomach the coyote ‘rose from the dead’ ala Mushu style saying dramatically. “IIIIII LLLLLLIIIIIIIVVVVVVVEEEEEE!”

He was rewarded for this Oscar-worthy spot of acting by tomatoes being thrown at him by Roadie and Bugs. “Dat’s for quotin’ Disney!” Bugs told him sternly.

Wile.E shrugged. “Don’t blame me, inferior creature, I didn’t write the script.”

They glared at each other and then, going a 180, hugged and laughed joyously. “Oh!” Wile.E exclaimed, as he swung Bugs around. “I’m so glad you’re alive! I would like to say we never gave up hope, but I’m afraid that would be a lie as we’ve thought you were dead for the past few months now.”

Wile.E popped Bugs back on the ground and the rabbit wasted no time shaking himself to get all of the dust and rocks and like out his fur. “Oi’m gonna be hearin’ that for de next few chapters, ain’t I?” He reflected.

In response Wile.E simply pointed. Bugs followed the point and saw Roadie holding up a sign that said. ‘Well, the last time we saw you you were left alone with an angry psycho. So, you know, assumptions were made.”

Bugs grinned and flapped his arms. “Ah, never mind all dat! C’mon, Oi’ve managed to get some of the gang already, we’re all on Marvin’s spaceship! C’mon, follow me brothers!” And with that he dramatically turned heal and started in the direction of the spaceship. [Which wasn’t actually visible from where they were, Bugs having had to go on something of a hunt for his younger brothers.]

He got about ten steps in before realising he was Coyote-and-Roadrunner-less and turned back to see Wile.E standing in the middle of the dust track with his arms folded and his nose in the air, while Roadrunner looked confused and kept looking between the two like he was a spectator at a volleyball match.

Bugs approached his coyote brother carefully and asked. “Eh...what’s up, Wile.E?”

Wile.E scoffed and holding his nose up even higher [if that was possible] said; “I find it interesting, Mr Bunny, that you assume I shall just go with you?”

The rabbit frowned. confused by this question. “...Why wouldn’t ya?” He asked, eventually.

Wile.E scoffed again, as if to say ‘if you don’t know I’m not going to tell you’ and turned his back on the rabbit.

Bugs was now very confused and started pulling apart the conversation they’d just had in his mind to see if there was anything he’d said that would explain the coyote’s behaviour. About ten seconds into this thinking Bugs was gently pushed aside by Roadrunner who held up a sign that said: ‘Leave this to me.’

[Note from Author: The following conversation has been translated into English for ease of reading. Within the universe of the fic, on the other hand, the below conversation was said in roadrunner style beaps from both parties concerned. The author has also tried to keep Roadie’s rhyming style of speech. Whether she’s succeeded or not is a different matter.]

Roadrunner stepped closer to his brother and said, in a kindly tone. 

“Wile.E, my brother,

From one twin to another

Would you be so kind?

Tell me what is on your mind?”

Wile.E took a moment to think about exactly what was bothering him, before saying in a measured manner. “I’m thinking Roadie that...I’m old.”

Roadie’s eyes went wide and Wile.E hurriedly clarified. “Oh, I know what you’re going to say, I’m in my early 70′s, early 70′s is no longer considered ‘old’. Except, factually, it is. Even if you take into consideration the fact that I’m a toon and therefore immortal, I just can’t help wondering...how much longer can I do this?”

His brother looked at him in a manner that suggested he was unsure of what he meant. Clicking his tongue impatiently Wile.E snapped. “For Newton’s sake, do I have to spell it out!? How much longer can I keep throwing myself off of cliffs and under boulders and the like without damage? Even with gadgets like these...” Here he looked down at the custom-made grabber and chuckled. “...Not that we’ve got anything like this back on Tune Town. I mean, look at this!” Here he went into a half-mad description of what exactly the grabber was made of, what it could do and why exactly it was the best thing since sliced bread. Roadrunner waited patiently the whole time this lecture went on, nodding at what he felt were appropriate intervals until, finally, Wile.E finished with: “But what’s the use? I’ll never be able to invent another one.”

Roadrunner frowned and said, rapidly. “But Wile.E, why ever not?

Seeing as you’re a total swot*

Would it not be so very easy,

to build something just as great?

From an engineers point of view,

it should be easy to recreate

And with me by your side

You’ll be sure to hit your stride.” At the end of his little rhyme, Roadie smiled brightly at his twin and waited for the verdict. 

“Because, my fraternal twin brother, I made THIS one via the materials on this planet and seeing as when I step on Marvin’s ship I’m presumably not coming back here then that means I’m somewhat sunk, aren't I? More than usual, I mean.” Wile.E looked at the grabber and lovingly stroked it.  

While he was doing that Roadie thought.  Truth be told he had heard this more than a few times before. Wile.E periodically went through periods where he thought he was reaching the end of his genius, but he usually pulled through. This time he sounded different though. More wistful and melancholy. It concerned Roadie, but he was unsure of what to say and went quiet for a bit trying to think of the right words.

While he was doing that Wile.E’s ginormous brain was ticking, slotting the pieces together as he looked down at the grabber. Really, now he was actually thinking about it instead of running on emotion, the materials the grabber was made with weren't that different to similar materials that could be found on Tune Town. Melt an anvil down, for instance, and simply reshape it...

Wile.E smiled. Oh yes, that would work alright. He was an idiot to have not thought of it before!

Roadrunner saw the familiar smile and, immediately perking up, said rapidly to Bugs. “I think you will be happy to know, we are finally ready to go.”

Bugs made a celebrationary air-grab and grabbing his brothers by the arm and wing respectably pulled them in the direction of the spaceship. Luckily Roadrunners brain was ahead of Bugs’s on this occasional and he had also see where the spaceship was earlier on in the chapter when he’d speeded ahead; so, with his usual catchphrase, he ran under Bugs so the rabbit was forced to cling to him and sped of at about 1000 miles an hour, not wanting to waste any time.

Behind them Wile.E smiled wickedly and activated the grabber which enabled him to swing between boulders [how he managed not to crush himself the author only knows] essentially becoming the coyote version of Tarzan and together they speeded towards the ship

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - In Your Dreams: part 2

a/n: a couple people requested a part 2 and i couldn’t help myself!! thank you for all the love on part 1!! <3  also im bad at writing cheesy romance so i apologize in advance at how bad it will be lol

part 1 here

warnings: angst, fluff, insinuated smut (i may get there some day folks but today ain’t that day)

word count: 2967

tag list: @buckybarneshairpullingkink​

my masterlist

Matthew Tkachuk

“Are you sexting my brother?”

You yelp when Brady drops on the couch beside you and snatches your phone from your hand. Luckily, you were only scrolling through Instagram so he didn’t see the suggestive texts you and Matt had been exchanging all morning.

After the summer, you and Matt had been texting back and forth, trying to get used to the idea of talking without insulting each other. It was much easier than you were expecting and you discovered rather quickly that you enjoyed talking to him. He was sweeter than you’ve ever seen, thoughtful, good-humored and you were completely infatuated with him.

After a couple months of texting and Facetime, you flew to Calgary to spend the weekend with him. He wined and dined and took you to his bed and you hated having to leave.

You snatch your phone back. “No. Although I’m not sure why you would want to see them.”

“I don’t!”

“Keep your nose out of my business then.”

. . .

“Heck no.” Brady says when you meet him at the Canadian Tire Centre. “Oh, heck, no. You’re not wearing that!”

You look down at you Calgary Flames jersey and shrug. Matt sent it to you and asked if you would wear it for tonight’s game because the Sens were facing off against the Flames.

“I mean, technically, it still has your name on it.”

“You’ve betrayed me!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re being dramatic. Look,” you lift your jersey up to show a Sens t-shirt with number 7 on it. “See? Now c’mon, you have a game to play.”

He follows you like a sad puppy and sighs. “My own brother is stealing my best friend. You know, I think I liked it better when guys hated each other.”

You groan and shove his shoulder. “Grow up.”

 Along with buying your jersey, Matt also bought your ticket so that you’d be on the visitors side. Which means he spent most of warm up showing off to you as if you’ve never seen him play before which you have but you’ll never admit it to him.

It’s an intense game and you’re not sure who you’re cheering for half the time but they go into overtime so at least they’ll both get a point.

Matt ends up scoring the winning goal and when he points to you and mouths, that one was for you, you think your heart might burst out of your chest.

. . .

The two of you haven’t put a label on whatever you are and part of you is okay with it because it is fairly new but you’re also worried about what he does when the two of you aren’t together which is quite a lot. Sure, he sends you flowers and calls you after every game no matter how tired he is. He texts you every morning and calls you before you go to bed and it makes you feel special but sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he does this for other girls and if it makes them feel special too.

It’s something that’s on your mind on a weekend that Matt brings you to Calgary. He had practice in the morning so you’re hanging out at his apartment waiting for him to come home. You’re cooking lunch when you hear the front door open, and Matt calling out to you.

“Babe, I’m back!” He shouts and your heart swells at the term of endearment but it drops when you think about him calling other girls that when you’re not around.

His arms wrap around your waist and he presses a kiss on your neck.

“Something smells good.”

“Yeah, it’s fettuccine… I think I might’ve messed it up a-”

“I’m not talking about the pasta.” he mumbles, pressing more kisses down your neck.

“Oh?” you squeak and you really shouldn’t, because you’re still worrying about not being the only one, but you let him drag you to bed anyway.

Later that night, long after he’s asleep, you’re trying to ignore the taunting voice in your head reminding you that he might be holding other girls like this. Reminding you that someone else might also wake up to his sleepy smile and messy hair.

. . .

“So you’re her.”

You raise your eyebrows at Johnny Gaudreau, who Matt had introduced you to when the two of you first arrived at the bar. He introduced you as Brady’s friend and when you looked at him, he just shrugged.

You’re not sure what you were expecting - certainly not saying you were his girlfriend - but Brady’s friend? It was bothering you and you were doing you best to hide it but you knew you were failing because Matt had been sending you weird looks all night all while basically ignoring you. He’s barely touched you since you sat with his friends.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply, glancing at Matt who is deep in conversation with one of his teammates.

“He talks about you a lot.” Johnny shrugs. “I thought you two were dating.”

“Apparently not.” You mumble, standing up and giving Matt a quick look. “I’m going to get a refill.”

You leave before he can reply and push through all the sweaty bodies trying to get to the bar. While you’re flagging down a bartender, someone sits on the stool next to you. You look, expecting it to be Matthew but instead it’s a stranger. A handsome stranger so when he offers you to pay for your drink you almost say yes but a familiar arm wraps around your shoulder.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Matt says, glaring at the man until he mutters an apology and leaves. When he’s out of sight, Matt turns so he’s facing you and now you’re the one on the opposite end of his dirty look.

“What the hell was that?” He snaps and you scoff, shrugging his arm off you.

“Excuse me?”

“You were going to let him buy you a drink!” He says loudly and you glance around but nobody seems to be paying attention to you thankfully.

“It was a drink, Matthew. I wasn’t inviting him home.”

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” He says harshly and you flinch. His eyes widen immediately and he reaches out but you hop off the stool and run out of the bar, ignoring him calling your name.  

You run out of the bar and down the street until you come across a quiet diner. A bell dings when you open the door and a kind looking, older woman greets you and tells you to seat yourself.

You’ve been sitting in the diner nursing a glass of water for no more than fifteen minutes when the bell rings, signally a new customer.

You don’t have to look up to know who it is but you do anyway and you’re greeted with a very guilty looking Matt. He slowly walks over and seats himself across from you.

“How’d you find me?”

He shifts in his seat and stares at the table instead of you. “I tracked you on snapchat.”

You swear under your breath for not turning that option off. When you look at Matt again, his eyes are on you already. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off right away, wanting to speak your mind before he says anything.

“You introduced me as Brady’s friend.” you say quietly and he nods. “you barely spoke to me the entire night and then you got possessive when that guy spoke to me.” he nods again and you sigh. “look, Matt. I’m not asking you to say something you’re not comfortable saying or you’re not ready to say - I don’t think I’m ready for it - but you’re not allowed to act like I’m nothing to you when there are people around but get jealous if someone talks to me. And you’re not allowed to say what you said to me. That was unfair.”

“I know.” he replies. “and I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I was out of line.” He looks back down at the table and you know he’s trying to think of what to say so you give him a moment. “I know it’s selfish… but I guess I just want you to myself a little while longer. I like the two of us in our bubble and that bubble is going to be popped when people find out about us. I’m in the spotlight, people are going to want to know our business and I don’t want it to freak you out.”

You nod in understanding. You were aware of how the media can be and it’s not something you look forward to.

“I’m scared.” He admits and you reach across the table, squeezing his hand.

“I’m scared too.” you tell him, lips turning up in a tiny smile. “but it’s better to be scared together than alone, right?”

He mirrors your smile and leans across the table and you meet him halfway.

. . .

You spend Christmas with the Tkachuk’s and Matthew proudly introduces you as his girlfriend and Chantal and Taryn squeal, Keith smiles and hugs you and Brady rolls his eyes and says “I knew this would happen all along. The two of you should really thank me.”

Matt blushes when his mom gushes about how glad she is that he found someone like you and that she had a feeling the two of you were meant for each other but later that night he tells you how happy he is that you gave him a chance.

The two of you debate over how it would be best to tell everyone you’re dating and you decide on a cliche but simple post to his Instagram.

It’s a picture of the two of you standing in front of the tree, his arms wrapped around you and lips pressed against your forehead. The caption reads, it wasn’t love at first sight, but we turned out okay.

It accurately sums up your relationship perfectly and you tease him about how long he’s had that one in his back pocket.

But it still makes your heart race and you want to shout I love you from the rooftops.

. . .

It’s not easy being 2877 kilometers apart and it becomes more obvious the longer the two of you are together. You fly to Calgary as often as you can but you still have school and Matt can’t visit Ottawa much because of his hockey schedule.

It’s a test for the two of you - and your relationship - and sometimes you feel frustrated and you wonder if you can do it but you think about when Matt Facetime’s you nearly every night that you’re apart from each other and you know that it would break your heart to live without seeing his curly brown hair and blue eyes and hearing his voice so you tell yourself it’s worth it.

And it is, until it isn’t.

. . .

“I don’t understand what the big deal is.” Matt says, obviously frustrated.

The two of you had been arguing for hours. You were graduating in less than two weeks so you’re job searching and when Matt brought up the idea of you moving to Calgary with him to get a job, you panicked.

You have been together for just about eight months now and you know that it’s normal at this stage to move in with someone but you were scared. There’s always been the fear in the back of your mind that one day Matt is going to wake up and decide that you’re not who he wants and if you uproot your entire life in Ottawa for him, you don’t know what you would do if something happened between the two of you.

But you couldn’t explain this to him so you kept making up lame excuses as to why you couldn't move in with him.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” You say quietly and he huffs.

“Can you please just think about it?” He pleads and you’re tired of arguing that you just agree even though your answer will still be no when he asks.

“I love you.” He says and you smile softly. One thing about Matt is that no matter how big an argument and even if it’s not solved right away, he tell you he loves you.

“I know. I love you too.” You say before he ends the call.

You flop back on your bed and even though it’s only seven o’clock, you feel ready for bed. Ten minutes later, you’re just dozing off when you hear your door open and slam shut. You would freak out but you hear Brady call out to you and you tell him you are in your room.

You expected him to come over because when you and Matt argue, he makes sure to check on you.

What you’re not expecting is to see him fuming with anger.

“You’re an idiot.” He says.

“Excuse me?” You snap and he huffs, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at you.

“You love my brother, right?” he asks and you nod. “and he loves you.” you nod again and he raises an eyebrow.

“So why won’t you move in with him?”

You roll your eyes and sit up. “It’s not that simple, Brady.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just not.” you say because you don’t actually have a valid explanation. You know most of your reasons are foolish but you can’t help it.

He sighs and sits on the bed next to you. “What’s going on in your head? We’re best friends, you can talk to me about anything.”

You look at him and can’t help but smile. Brady always had a way of making you feel better when you were kids.

“I guess I’m scared.” You admit quietly and he knocks his shoulder against yours more gentle than normal.

“’bout what?” he asks and you shrug.

“He wants me to move across the county.”

“Yeah.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

A small smile crosses his face. “But what if it does?”

. . .

Three weeks later you’re holding a one way ticket to Calgary in your hand and saying goodbye to Brady in the airport.

“You got everything?” He asks, passing you your carry-on. You’re pretty sure if you looked close enough, his eyes would be a bit watery but yours are too so you can’t poke fun.

“Everything I need.” You tell him, and hug him tightly. You hold on to him a little longer than usual but it’s hard leaving your best friend after being attached at the hip for so long.

When he pulls away, he grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“I know.” you say. “I’ll text you when I land. And don’t forget-”

“I won’t tell him.” he promises and you hug him once more before leaving.

You’ll miss Ottawa, but it’s time for the new chapter of your life to start and you can’t wait.

. . .

Matt’s not surprised when he opens his front door to find you standing in front of him. He just grins and leans against the door.

“Missed me, did you?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. “I really did.”

[sophisticated-creepy]

Daybreak was bright, crisp, and exhilarating, Lola feeling every fiber of her being humming with excitement as the brisk autumn sun kissed her face. She was inspired and playful, eager to attack the morning as she initiated day one of her research plans. The more she thought about the Hobblin’ Goblin for her story, the more she realized she didn’t know the essentials to his origins. She was completely attached to the idea of him being her “Mr. Goblin”, the imaginary friend and childhood companion, and never dove deeper into why he played his pranks, only that he did, and therefore, negated any notion for further investigation. He simply existed, and her imagination conceived the rest. Even Raphael, she discovered over breakfast, wasn’t fully aware of the iconic legend’s origins, and he was a history Professor.

“I guess I don’t know him as intimately as I thought,” she said, stunned to the awakening of her own ignorance regarding the goblin.

“Don’t feel badly,” Raphael had comforted. “I have no doubt you’ll turn this story of yours into an adventure yet.”

Taking her beloved’s advice to heart, Lola got into the proper mindset for delving into the task of research. Her deadline was fast approaching, and she wanted to make as much headway as possible in gathering her facts before putting pen to paper. Five hundred words held the capability to be irrevocably profound. This challenge was an opportunity to showcase depth instead of fluff, so today was all business, strictly pounding the streets for information, putting in the hard work of sleuthing, deducing, and discovering what exactly made the Hobblin’ Goblin tick.

Since the town was saturated in claims of the goblin’s mischief, Lola decided that she would first get as many personal testimonies from the victims of these pranks as possible. Then, upon more research, she would be able to see what connections in claims could help in unlocking the mystery of the Hobblin’ Goblin, allowing her assignment to look into the character of the people affected by the imp, and give her plot heart. Her own opinions were too biased in a light-hearted, flouncy sort of parody she perceived of the goblin’s personality, and while in some cases that may translate well in a fairytale aspect of playful misdemeanors, Lola wanted substance, something tangible to pull in the judges’ interests. As she gathered enough information, she would know in which direction to craft her words.

One such person she wanted to interview first was her former retail manager Stacy. Lola had spent a sizeable amount of time as an associate of the boutique Lotions and Potions, and had a few experiences of her own in her pocket to pull from if need be, but Stacy swore up and down that the place was actively haunted, sharing her stories daily of what went bump in the night. Stacy tended to lean on the side of over-exaggeration, but Lola wouldn’t discount any leads if the potential to find a nugget of inspiration rested somewhere in the spinning of a yarn, so onwards confidently she marched, notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, and entered the establishment filled with buttermilk and bubble bath.

The familiar chime sounding as she walked through the door brought a smile to her face, however, seeing Stacy on her hands and knees in front of a cabinet of decorative glass bottles had her frowning. A clumping of paper towels and a wastebasket at an elbow told Lola that, at least, nothing dire had happened.

“Do you need some help?” Lola asked, setting her belongings on the checkout counter as she fully entered the store. Stacy glanced up from her position, giving her head a slight shake, crookedly smiling at the former employee.

“You don’t work here anymore, Lola, it’s no longer your job to help clean up spills,” Stacy remarked, carefully scooping up a glob of lavender scented lotion mixed with glass shards.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend.” Lola went to get the cleaning supplies on hand stowed in a nearby cabinet drawer for emergencies such as these. She handed the bottle of cleaner to Stacy while she herself took up a broom to gather fly away chunks of glass. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Stacy sighed, spraying down the ceramic tiled floor, cleaning up the last of the mess. “A bottle of lotion leapt off the shelf is all.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Lola grasped the broom tightly to her chest in delight, a beaming smile lighting up her eyes as she turned excitedly to the woman still crawling on the ground.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Stacy informed. “I mean, product isn’t cheap, you know. I’ll be out of business if things keep flying off my shelves only to have them break on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lola frantically apologized. “It’s just…I couldn’t ask for more perfect timing. May I record you?”

“Record me? What…?” Stacy watched flabbergasted as Lola rushed to her purse resting on the checkout counter, rummaging deep within the numerous confines before emerging with a portable tape recorder. Lola immediately rushed back over to her former manager, sliding to her knees, shoving the recorder up close to a bewildered Stacy’s face.

“How did the bottle fly off the shelf? Did you hear a noise prior to it falling, or after? Like, maybe a thumping, dragging sound? Was there an ominous presence before it happened? Did you see a shadow figure? Do you believe this was the work of the Hobblin’ Goblin?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stacy laughed, rearing back on her haunches, straightening away from Lola’s tape recorder and barrage of strange questions. She couldn’t help but find humor in Lola’s exuberance. “Ease up there, gumshoe. Are you playing detective now, or something?”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation for the creative arts,” Lola declared seriously.

“Sounds important.” Stacy got to her feet, taking with her the wastebasket and cleaning implements, stowing the items behind the main counter, Lola a closely following shadow.

“So, about this incident with the lotion bottle…do you think it was a prank caused by the notoriously reputable Hobblin’ Goblin?” While leaning over the counter, Lola held her tape recorder out to Stacy. “Try to speak slowly and clearly. And enunciate,” she added, demonstrating her instructions in the same manner she wished her friend to speak.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the Hobblin’ Goblin? And why are you using a tape recorder? Do they even make tapes anymore? There is a thing called ‘digital’, you know.”

“First of all Stanley,” Lola began, indicating her tape recorder’s name, “has been with me since the beginning. He was there when I got scared by a bird that one time during an evening stakeout.”

“When did you---?”

“Secondly,” Lola interrupted, “I’m asking these questions because I’m working on a story about the Hobblin’ Goblin. Weird things happen in here all the time, and I wanted to get some of your stories and see if they line up with our local legend and his patterns for hauntings.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’d be glad to talk about the hauntings that happen here. I have plenty of stories to share.”

“Great!” Lola cheered. “Let’s get started with what happened right before I walked in.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Stacy stated, waving her hand dismissively at the cabinet full of fancy lotions. “That was probably a case in gravity, if I’m honest. The truly weird things come about in the early mornings when I’m trying to get the store ready to open.”

“Tell me about these weird things.” Even with her recorder rolling, Lola still took handwritten notes to capture important details in the moment so as not to miss an idea that could be overlooked when reviewing the tape several hours later.

“For starters, it’s like I’m being watched,” Stacy described. “I can feel eyes on me, observing me, and it’s very unnerving. Sometimes I hear footsteps following behind me, and when I turn around to look, there’s no one there.”

“What kind of footsteps? Is there a limp? Are they heavy set? Quick?”

“More of a gentle shuffling,” Stacy clarified. Lola frowned while marking in her notebook.

“The Hobblin’ Goblin is supposed to walk with a crutch, so his step pattern should be different than ‘normal’ sounding footsteps,” Lola voiced her thought aloud. “Is there anything else out of the ordinary that you can think of? Maybe something that pertains to the goblin himself?”

Stacy thought hard, trying to recall occurrences of the abnormal befalling her boutique. “Sometimes I hear breathing,” she said at last. “And sometimes, things will fly off the shelves. I’ve had the record player cut off on me once or twice as well.”

All of Stacy’s stories sounded more of a casual haunt than specifically that of a trickster, the activity appearing more benign as opposed to mischievous. Lola wanted to stay as open minded and unbiased as possible as she asked her questions to help form her story, but she was honestly hoping for something more lively and extraordinary. “Can you tell me of anything…fun?”

“Fun?” repeated Stacy.

“I mean, has anything…I don’t know…silly…happened in the time you’ve experienced these haunts? The Hobblin’ Goblin is a light hearted trickster, he plays pranks. Do things go missing only to turn up in the most random places? Do the lights flicker as if to say ‘hello’?”

“I had a pen thrown at me,” Stacy shared. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘fun’, but it was the most out of the ordinary incident to have happen to me.”

Lola perked up at hearing the news. “What were you doing when that happened?”

“Actually, I was talking with a customer about the Hobblin’ Goblin a few days ago,” Stacy recalled, the memory of the conversation returning to her mind. “When it happened, I just laughed, figuring he must not have appreciated what it was I had been saying.”

“What did you say?” Lola’s sparkle was back in her eyes as she eagerly listened to what Stacy had to tell.

“I said I thought that he was childish, and that there were a lot more scary things out in the world than an imp who merely liked to play tricks.”

“Oh, Stacy,” Lola admonished, clicking her tongue reprovingly. “That was cruel.”

“How was I being cruel?”

“You said his pranks were childish like it was a bad thing,” Lola pouted. “Goblins are generally mischievous, and you insulted him. I think you might even have gone as far as to hurt his feelings.”

Stacy laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you would defend the Hobblin’ Goblin?” The door chime announced a new arrival walking into the boutique as the friends were sharing a laugh. Stacy looked over Lola’s shoulder to greet the person, smiling friendly as she recognized the mail carrier. “Good morning, Joyce.”

“Good morning, Stacy. Morning, Lola,” the mail woman greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while, little miss. How’s tricks? Staying out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lola jest. “Hey, Joyce, do you have any stories of being pranked by the Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola turned her recorder towards the mail woman, prepared to document the newest insights into her subject matter.

“I have no time to deal with pranks,” Joyce stated. “I deliver the mail, and go about my day peacefully. I don’t call upon the Hobblin’ Goblin to play his tricks on me.”

“Meaning, she’s afraid of him,” Stacy snidely commented good humoredly.

“I respect the spirits, Stacy,” Joyce quipped in return with a smile, no malice exchanging between the two friends. “Why are you asking?” she then asked Lola.

“I’m doing research for a story about the goblin, and I wanted him to have some authenticity to his character,” she answered.

“I see. Just be careful where you go poking around,” cautioned Joyce. “You don’t want to inadvertently stir up trouble.”

“Actually, I think she does,” Stacy teased.

“More or less,” Lola agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Joyce. I’ll make sure I’m careful,” she promised.

“You’ve got a good heart, Lola, I’m confident you’ll be safe.” Reaching into her mailbag, she passed a handful of envelopes and a newspaper to Stacy. “You be careful, too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stacy defended.

“Yet, but I know you also like to go looking for trouble. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a tip of her hat, and a wink of an eye, Joyce left the boutique.

“I should probably get going, too,” Lola sighed, shutting off her recorder and gathering her belongings. “I was going to see if maybe Mr. Jasons would be interested in sharing some of his stories next. Thanks for letting me bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me in the slightest,” Stacy assured as she began filing through her mail. “Oh, hey, look at this,” she said, unfolding the newspaper to read. “The old train yard at the Miners Museum made the front page.”

“Neato,” Lola responded automatically, only half listening as she slung her purse over her shoulder, her mind already on her next objective.

“Oh, my God! Someone was attacked!”

“Wait, what?” Stacy’s declaration fully captured Lola’s attention. “What happened?”

Stacy’s eyes furiously scanned the front page, speed reading as much of the information as she could. “The police aren’t sure,” she shared after a breathless pause. “They say a security guard was pushed down while chasing away some kids during the middle of the nightshift rounds. He hit his head on the railway of the old mine train. He has a major concussion and a fractured skull.”

“That’s horrible,” Lola gasped.

“It continues to say that another guard found him in the train yard shortly after he fell. No evidence, however, of the kids, allegedly, playing around the site could be found,” Stacy concluded.

“Poor guy,” Lola sympathized. “Are they sure it was kids mucking about, and that he didn’t just accidently trip?”

“Looks like it,” she validated, continuing to rove the paper. “The second guard states the first guard, the victim, went to go chase away the kids playing by the mineshaft when they saw flashing lights from the security monitors. Here’s a picture of the scene.” Stacy turned the paper around for Lola to see the front page where a photo of the old steam engine and mine were pictured, and with it, just on the outer margins, was the backdrop of the Dead Forest. Lola felt a chill creep down her spine as she looked at the newspaper. Something ominous radiated from the main image, and she squinted critically at the photo, taking the paper to examine the image closer where a shadowed form blending into the tree line, a darker mass of shapes, hovered half-cropped out of frame. The anomaly warranted further investigation, and Lola knew just the person from whom she wanted a second opinion.

“Do you mind if I hang onto this?”

“You can keep it,” Stacy offered. “I don’t read much from the paper anymore.”

“Thanks,” Lola said distantly, her eyes glued on the blurry, pixelated blob. She began to turn and leave when Stacy summoned her back.

“Little witch,” she called. Lola blinked, focusing on Stacy. “Are you planning on flying out of here, or may I have my broom back?”

“Hmm? Oh! My bad,” Lola chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” Lola leaned the broomstick she had been holding onto since helping clean up the broken bottle against a cabinet. “I didn’t even realize I’d still been holding it.”

“It’s hard for a witch to hide what comes naturally,” Stacy joked, giving Lola a look that spoke of amusement.

“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” Lola kidded back. “And thanks again for sharing your time and stories with me, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.” The two waved their goodbyes, and Lola stepped out onto the historic cobblestone, once more lost in the picture of her newspaper.

“There’s just something ‘off’ about this picture,” Lola murmured to herself. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m hoping Modesta can.” Folding the newspaper back into its original shape, Lola cradled the bundle into the crook of her arm along with her notebook, her coffee in one hand, and set her confident march towards her friend’s shop of Curios and Oddities.

~~~~~~~~~~