#just to cancel it like five times and change his mind and order 4 other things and just ruin people's day completely

[corpsoir]

when your dad won't order you fries

#i've been laughing so fucking hard at the thought of dio stopping time to place a fucked up annoying order of food #just to cancel it like five times and change his mind and order 4 other things and just ruin people's day completely #i have no clue if foodora is something people outside scandinavia use lmao whatever #its basically uber eats or doordash #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo #jjba #jjba part 3 #jjba part 5 #dio brando #dio #mudad #giorno giovanna #golden wind #giogio #stardust crusaders #corps art

[scuttling]

I said I love you, that's forever

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,619 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Fingering, Reader gets drunk, Brief mention of canon-typical violence Summary: This one is sexy, sweet, and fluffy and features Aaron getting used to his new, healthier body. Inspired by @sleepyreaderreads and this ask. Collection: Just The Way You Are Series, Part 1 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Coming Soon!) Part 4 Link to A03 or read below! Being home when Aaron gets home is the best part of having a flexible work arrangement, you have to admit. You’ve been together for five years, but only living together for four months—for one reason or another, mainly his job, it took you a while to reach the cohabitation phase, but neither of you had minded much. You were always spending time together when he was free, and you enjoyed having your own space, so the arrangement worked out for the both of you.

Now, though, as he walks into your home office looking so handsome in a white shirt, black slacks, and burgundy tie, a soft smile on his face, you know without a doubt that you made the right choice by moving in with him. You wouldn’t give this up for anything.

“Hi. How was your day?” he asks, leaning over you for a kiss. He intends to make it quick, but you put your hands on his body, lengthen the kiss, hum against his lips.

“Hmm. It was good. Better now, though.” You hit the keys necessary to lock your desktop and stand, stretch to wrap your arms around his neck. “How was yours?”

“Not bad.” He says it casually, but you can see the stress in the lines around his eyes, his mouth, and you raise a brow in question. “The unit’s being audited. A percentage of our consultations need to be reviewed, updated psychological evaluations completed—on top of everything else, it’s a lot,” he admits with a sigh, and you nod your understanding, brush your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll call Elena and cancel dinner.” You’d planned weeks ago to go out with one of your friends for Indian food, to meet her new boyfriend, but Aaron is clearly having a rough week and it’s only Wednesday. A quiet night in may be just what he needs. “We’ll stay home, I’ll order takeout. We can relax.”

“No, no. I know you’ve been looking forward to this; it’s really alright.” You tilt your head, something of a frown, and he takes your face in his hands, kisses you twice on the mouth. “It’s alright. I want to go out. I want to take you out,” he says, voice low, pulling you in for a slower kiss, and you melt against him, slide your arms around his back instead, pull him closer.

“I want to keep you in,” you murmur when the kiss breaks, and he raises the corner of his mouth in a sexy smile, presses his lips to your nose.

“And miss meeting the one?” You both laugh lightly, because Elena finds the one every couple of months, but she’s a hopeless romantic, always means it at first. It’s endearing, especially when you and Aaron feel a little like an old married couple. “Let’s go out, have a good time. If we stay home, I’ll be tempted to work.” He takes a step back, lets you head out the door and down the hall to your bedroom, so you can get changed; he follows behind, sits down on the bed while you go through your closet.

“I’m sure I could find ways to tempt you not to work,” you say, pushing dresses down the rack until you find one you like: it’s an emerald green mid-length dress, with cap sleeves and a slit up the front, not too formal and not too sexy, perfect for the restaurant where you will be eating.

You pull your t-shirt over your head, bend to slide your leggings off, and Aaron makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Consider me tempted.” You turn around, roll your eyes playfully, and put on the dress, sit down next to him to slip your feet into a pair of nude sandals; you lean in for a kiss, palm pressed to his chest, and it quickly becomes something deep, passionate. Aaron brings a hand to rest against your throat, and you have half a mind to take the dress back off and cancel those plans after all, but you know he wouldn’t let you do that anyway.

You pull back, bite your lip, and give him a very pointed once-over, then stand to finish getting ready. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time. “I’m just saying, he should be on the side of a tub of protein powder or something,” Aaron says later as he unlocks the front door, letting you step in before him. “His arms are bigger than his head.”

“He’s a personal trainer, baby. It’s his job to work out and look buff—he’s like a walking billboard for his business.” You slip your shoes off, hook the straps around your finger, and stroll toward the bedroom. “Elena really seemed to like him.”

“I give them three months.” He’s just a few feet behind you when you turn to shoot him a slightly admonishing look, even if he is probably right. “She seemed more focused on his twelve pack than anything else.”

You toss your phone onto the bed, remove your dress with a soft laugh. “Their relationship is still new; it’s all about the physical. You remember when we were like that, don’t you?” You aren’t exactly surprised when he comes up behind you and glides his hand across your bare stomach, when he brushes your hair away from your neck and kisses you there.

“We were never like that. It was never just physical for me,” he breathes into your ear, and you close your eyes, sink back against him, tilt your neck for more kisses. “I loved you before I loved you. I always just knew.”

“Fuck, Aaron,” you sigh, and you lay your arm along the one on your stomach, reach back with the other to press him closer to you. You lick your lips, turn your head so your face is near his, and he leans in to kiss you and slides his hand into your panties, rubs his fingers over your pussy.

You’re already a little wet from his hands on you, his mouth, but as always, he turns you on effortlessly; your face heats, your heart races, your breath quickens. Your pussy becomes almost unbearably slick, your moans against his lips gentle and pleading, and he removes his hand and slides your underwear down, guides you onto the bed.

You watch, panting, as he removes his tie, then takes off his belt, his pants; you can’t go without touching him for long, and you move to sit up so you can reach for him, pull him closer. You work at the buttons of his shirt from the bottom while he starts at the top, and you take it off together, then slip your hands into his boxers and push them down.

You immediately want to take him into your mouth, thick and hard as he is, and you slide your hands up his stomach, beneath his undershirt, in anticipation of that; you don’t get very far before he lays you back on the bed again, on your side this time. His forcefulness makes you ache to have him inside you, and he crowds in behind you, slides an arm beneath you and wraps his hand around you, over your breast, holding you tightly. You tip your head back, whimper, because he’s going to be so good to you as always and the waiting is almost too much to bear.

“You know I’ve got you,” he whispers, squeezing you, and you nod in response; he lifts your leg and hooks it back over his thigh, then pushes inside you, sinks fully into your wet heat. You exhale, a sigh of pleasure, and he mouths at your jaw, nibbles at your ear while he thrusts slowly but completely. “Hmm. This may not be new, but you’re always perfect for me. Doesn’t that feel so good?”

“So good, so good.” It’s difficult for you to really move in this position, though you rock your hips almost involuntarily into his thrusts, but he takes care of you, nips at the back of your neck, pounds inside you, brings you so close so quickly you almost forget to breathe. Your hands are on him anywhere you can reach, desperate for contact. “Aaron, mmm, god.”

“I know, baby.”

He puts his free hand behind your knee, bends your leg, folds it up by your chest so he can pump his cock faster, harder, and you feel surrounded by him—his hands on your body, his hot grunts of effort in your ear, the faint smell of cologne that lingers after a long day familiar to your nose. You're a little overwhelmed by it all, but pleasantly so, and when he comes you come, clenching tightly around him as he spills deep.

“Perfect,” he whispers tensely, nuzzling against your throat, and he slides out, brings your leg down, runs his hands tenderly over your body like you’re something delicate. “I love you.” You turn your head toward him, say it back, and he presses his palm to your cheek, treats you to a deep, wet kiss, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Every time I kiss you, it feels like the first time.”

“For me too,” you say with a tired smile, running your fingers through his hair, and he kisses you again before patting your hip and telling you to go get cleaned up, that he’ll take care of the bedding. When you come back, he’s in his boxers and t-shirt, legs tucked under a fresh comforter, and you slide in next to him and curl up beneath his arm. It’s a couple weeks later when you decide to bring Aaron lunch at the office; things seem much calmer lately, but the team’s cases have been back to back, and he’s been out of town a lot. You have to take the opportunity when you can, and that means showing up with a bag of Mexican food and a smile and hoping he’s not too busy to eat with you.

You get checked into the building and head for the BAU bullpen, stopping to chat with the team for a few minutes. You loosely plan for dinner or drinks in the future, make a promise to pop in and see Penelope before you leave, and then head up to Aaron’s office, knock lightly on the doorframe.

“Hungry, handsome?” Aaron looks up from his stack of paperwork with a smile, then slowly runs his eyes over you—you’re wearing a sweater, jeans, boots, nothing revealing in the slightest, but he makes you feel very warm and very naked nonetheless.

“Yes. For lunch, too,” he says, and you roll your eyes, a little bashful, and enter his office, setting down the bag of food you brought after he clears space on the desk. He stands, pulls you close for a hug and kiss, and then you unpack lunch, spread containers out over the desk. “Burritos? Are you trying to beef me up?” he asks, and you look up at him, lift your brow.

“Were you expecting salads? I’m feeding a super special FBI agent here, you need your strength.”

“We’ve only been living together for five months and it’s already getting hard to button my pants,” he grumbles, but he peels back the foil on the one labeled pollo asado without further complaint, takes the hot sauce when you hand it to him.

“So we’ll go up a size. It’s a good thing you’re not living off of coffee and vending machine protein bars anymore. You’ve been needing someone to feed you up for a while—and besides, I don’t mind if your pants are unbuttoned,” you say, licking sauce off of your thumb. “Nothing hotter than a well-fed Fed.” He rolls his eyes, and you sit down to eat.

When the hour is up, you pack up the leftovers, give him a longer, slower kiss goodbye, and pat his stomach, which makes him groan. “Any harder and the button might pop,” he jokes, and you laugh, shake your head.

“Don’t be dramatic. I love this tummy. Might even grab onto it later, you know?” You slowly wet your lips, then smile, and take a step back, take the paper bag and head out the door. “See you tonight, love you.”

“Devil woman,” he calls after you, and you grin the whole way to Penelope’s office.

“Light in the darkness,” she says when she opens the door to find you on the other side. “How did god know I needed to see an angel today?”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that, but I have some extra chips and guac from lunch if you need a pick me up.” She eagerly accepts your offering, and you take a seat next to her, dip a couple of chips half-heartedly, still full from your burrito. “So how have you been? Busy supporting the cutest group of crime fighters since Scooby Doo?” She laughs, nods her head.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the extent of it. When it rains creepy crimes, it pours, apparently. I think we’re all in desperate need of a vacation at this point—and a puppy.” She hits a few keys, pulls up a screensaver that is just a compilation of fluffy puppy photos, and you both sigh.

“Aw, a puppy would be nice. I don’t even dream about vacations anymore; I’ve come to terms with the fact that Aaron will never be the vacationing type.”

“Not even the honeymoon type?” she asks, looking at you over her glasses, and you crunch on a chip, shake your head.

“I doubt it, and we’re not there yet, anyway. I’d consider myself lucky if he took more than two days off in a row.”

“He’s always been like that—working himself too hard,” she says sadly, as if to let you know it has nothing to do with you. You know that, but can’t deny it would be nice to have more than the weekend with him. “As long as I’ve known him, at least.”

“And I get it: what you guys do is important, and I wouldn’t want him to change himself for me. I guess we all just have our things.” You smile, and she does too, reaches out to pat you on the arm.

“Could be worse, honey. Could always be worse.” She hits a few keys on the keyboard again, and up pops a man’s mugshot. “This guy’s girlfriend had to find out he’s been killing women and chopping them up in an industrial food processor.”

You’re glad you already had lunch, because the imagery is enough to make you lose your appetite for several hours.

Your stomach eventually comes around, and you and Aaron have a quiet dinner—chicken, potatoes, and “a salad, since you’re watching your figure now” you tease—and then you ask if he’d be okay with calling it a night a little early. He agrees, and you take him to bed and undress, then slowly pull off all his clothes, running your hands over his body as you go.

“So big and strong,” you murmur as you brush your palms over his shoulders, press your lips to his bare chest. “Unbearably sexy.”

“Used to be stronger,” he sighs as you trail your mouth lower, sink to your knees, smooth your hands down his thighs.

“I used to be perkier; still want me, don’t you?” You look up at him, wink, and he reaches down to cup your cheek with a big hand; you nuzzle into it, happy, content, just like always.

“I’ll always want you.”

“Good. And I’ll always want you.” Just in case the words aren’t enough, you bring your hands to his stomach, massage it a little, run your tongue slowly over the length of his cock. “Mmm. Lay down for me?”

He does, and you climb on top of him, lean in to kiss him slowly, deeply, skimming neatly trimmed nails over his chest. You kiss along his throat, down to his stomach, and then wrap a hand around the base of his dick and put your mouth on him, the other hand pressed lightly against his stomach while you suck him off.

Your pace is easy, your hand moving in time with your tight lips and hollow cheeks, and you squeeze his tummy, moan your pleasure, and flick your eyes up to his face. His lips are soft around a sigh, but his brows are tensely knit, and he brings a hand to your chin, caresses you lightly when he floods your mouth, when you swallow for him and lick him clean.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, and you crawl up his body, kiss his cheeks and his lips and then whimper when he presses your back against the bed.

His fingers find you soft and wet and open, and he pushes two of them inside, leans over you to mouth wetly at your throat, your breasts. You weave your fingers into his hair, grip his shoulder, moan his name, and he makes you come quickly, expertly, in that practice makes perfect kind of way. He kisses your lips as you sigh, sink against the bed, then rubs his hand over your chest and hums.

“Perky,” he says in your ear, and then you both laugh, and you pull him down on top of you for a quick cuddle before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed. A couple of Fridays later, it’s your turn to host girls night, so you’re in the kitchen putting together a charcuterie board and mixing up cocktails when Aaron walks in, looking casual and cuddly in jeans and a quarter-zip fleece sweatshirt. You know he plans to set up camp in his office, but you kind of wish he wouldn’t just so you’d get to look at him some more.

“Gorgeous man,” you say, peering up at him as you wrap your arm around his waist. “Can I interest you in a paloma?” You lift up a pink cocktail and he laughs lightly, guides your hand back toward the counter.

“You can’t, but I will take a beer for the road.” You shrug your shoulders, let him go so he can walk over to the fridge; you take a sip of the drink you offered him, wince a little—it’s a bit strong for a girls night in, but it won’t kill anyone—and Aaron caches the expression, holds back a smile. “Are you going to end up drunk tonight? Should I prepare for the worst?”

“Ha ha. I don’t plan on it, but if I do, just throw me over your shoulder and put me to bed.”

“It’s cute that you think that works,” he says, bending to kiss you on the cheek, and then the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it, baby. Keep… rearranging your cheese.” He smiles, you smile back, a little exasperated, and he goes to answer the door.

A short time later, you and your friends are gathered in the living room, sprawled across the sectional sofa with drinks and snacks. You’re maybe a little tipsy, and when the topic turns to Elena’s now ex-boyfriend, the personal trainer, you’re just uninhibited enough to weigh in.

“I don’t know what you saw in him anyway. He spent so much time in front of the mirror, I would have been insecure that he was going to leave me for himself.” Your friend Jada laughs, and you preen, take another sip of your drink.

“She just misses his dick; the new guy isn’t working with much. What’s his name? Chester? Charlie?”

“Clifford,” Elena says, pulling out her phone, “and no, he’s not working with much, but he’s really cute. Look at him.” She shows you a photo from her camera roll, and Clifford looks just like the personal trainer, but with brown hair instead of blond.

“Not my type,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand, “but clearly he’s yours, so congrats, really. You can work around the small dick thing.”

“What is your type?” your other friend Michelle asks. “I’ve never been able to pin it down.” You open your mouth to answer but frown after a moment.

“I’ve never really had one, I guess. I know what I don’t find attractive, but what I do find attractive?” You think on it for a minute, and all you can imagine is what you already have. You can’t help smiling wide. “I mean, if I had to say, I guess just Aaron.” Your friends chime in with a chorus of aww, and you shush them. “I just think he’s perfect, you know? He’s smart and sweet and secretly funny; tall, and strong, but not in a ‘spends all day at the gym’ way—no offense. He’s a little softer, I can wrap myself up in his arms. It’s nice.”

“I’m with you,” Jada says. “A hard body might be nice to look at, but I need something to grab onto in the middle of the night.”

“Yes! Something to grab onto, and Aaron is perfect for that. He’s such a good cuddler, and he’s heavy, in a sexy way, like when he’s on top of me.” Okay, so you’re definitely a little drunk, never this loose-lipped about your sex life, but it’s all true regardless. “And he’s nice to look at—so nice to look at. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

You could go on talking about Aaron for the rest of the night, but topics change and you have enough sense not to ramble any further; you don’t have the sense to stop drinking, though, so by the time your friends leave, you’re puttering around trying to clean up the kitchen, and not doing a very good job of it. Aaron finds you, makes a soft sound and puts his arms around you from behind, effectively stilling your motions.

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” he murmurs into your hair, and you sink back against his body, sigh happily.

“I want to go to bed—I want to go to bed with you. I always want to go to bed with you, because I love you.”

“I know, sweetheart, I love you, and we’re going to go to bed right now. We can clean up tomorrow.” You let him lead you down the hall, but you only make it halfway to the bedroom before you turn around in his arms, try to pull him down to your level. He’s so tall it can sometimes be annoying.

“I love you. I want you, always. You’re my type.” He laughs, bends to kiss you softly and tries to walk you backward toward the bedroom.

“Thank you. You’re my type, too, and I want you always.” You nod, because that’s good. You should be his type, since he loves you. That just makes sense.

“I want a puppy—a fluffy baby puppy with you. I’ll be the puppy mom and you’ll be the puppy dad.”

“A puppy,” he repeats, and you make it to the bedroom: you can tell because he sits you gently on the bed, helps get you out of your jeans. “We could get a puppy, if that’s something you want. I can walk it in the mornings before work, you can walk it on your lunch.”

You make a happy sound, because you hadn’t expected him to say that. You figure asking for one more thing can’t hurt, while you’re on a roll.

“I want a vacation, too, please. A beach vacation—I want to see you in swim trunks, your hair all wet, and I want to feel your skin warm from the sun.” He pulls your top over your head and walks away from you; when you make a sound of protest, he assures you he’ll be right back, and he returns with one of his t-shirts, helps you put it on.

“You want a beach vacation?” He turns down the bed, maneuvers you under the covers, then starts undressing himself. “What brought that on?”

“I don’t know. Just want to go away with you,” you say, and you can feel yourself drifting now that you’re cozy in bed, wearing Aaron’s clothes, soft pillows all around you. “A vacation, or a—a honeymoon.”

Aaron says something in response to that, but you can’t make it out, too busy falling asleep and imagining the scent of sunscreen and the feel of thick fingers rubbing it into your shoulders. You wake with a bit of a headache, and a dry mouth, and a warm body at your back, an arm loosely slung around your waist. You groan and press back against Aaron, and he leans forward to brush his lips over your ear and chuckle lightly against it.

“I think you went a little overboard,” he says, and he smooths your unruly bedhead back away from your face. “There’s water and ibuprofen on the nightstand. If you’re feeling up to it, I think a shower would do you some good. I’ll make breakfast.” He presses several soft kisses to your cheek and chin, and you close your eyes, hum your contentment.

“I love you, do you know that?”

“I do know that,” he breathes, and he runs his hand over your hip in a way that makes you wish you had more energy and less aching in your temples. “You said it a lot last night—I also couldn’t help overhearing you say I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.”

“Well that’s true. Incredibly handsome,” you agree tiredly, and he presses his lips to your neck in the form of soft, smacking kisses.

“You also said you wanted a honeymoon,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes comically wide, slide up to a seat, look down at his face to try to read his expression.

“I did?” He nods, clearly trying not to smile at your surprise.

“Yes, you did. I’m not clear on the details, though—would that include a wedding, or were you planning on skipping over that part?” You lean over him, hide your face against his shoulder, and he laughs softly, rubs his hand up and down your back. “We’ve never talked about it, but it seems that’s something I should have at least brought up. We just took our time moving in together, and I didn’t want to rush that if you weren’t ready. Are you ready?” he asks quietly, and you pull back to look at him—his open expression, soft features, curious eyes.

“In theory, or in practice?” You have to ask, because this is Aaron, and he’s amazing, but he’s not a grand gestures type of man—if he’s asking you to marry him, you want to be very clearly on the same page to avoid miscommunication. He smiles, runs his hand down your arm.

“In theory.” You think of what it would mean, how it would feel, being married to the best man you’ve ever met, the kindest, most open-hearted (if occasionally grumpy) person, and the answer comes easily.

“Yes, I’m ready in theory.” His smile grows, and you match it, leaning down for a kiss. Then, he moves out from under you, reaches behind himself, into his nightstand, and rummages around for a moment before returning with a blue velvet box that he just holds, so casually, in his hand.

“How about in practice?” Your heart sinks to your stomach in the best way, and you can’t find the words even though you know exactly what you want to say. You bite your lip, and your eyes water a little; Aaron presses his palm to your cheek, and you meet in the middle for a slow, sweet kiss, exhaling softly when you pull apart.

You nod your head.

“Yes, I’m ready in practice.” You kiss again, a bit less sweet, weaving your fingers into his hair, and he pulls you down, makes you laugh, covers you with his body and kisses your face until you’re both out of breath.

“That’s good, because I want to make an honest woman out of you if we’re going to have a baby.” You freeze beneath him—did you talk about children last night, too, in your drunken haze?—and he chuckles, leans back so you can better see his face. “A fluffy baby puppy, remember? I’ll be the puppy dad and you’ll be the puppy mom.” You smack his chest, which he finds hilarious, and then you put your hands on his arms and sigh.

“Let me see that ring, please.” He props himself up on his elbows, opens the box for you: it’s sparkling, beautiful, exactly what you would have chosen for yourself, and you pluck it out, hold it up, and then hand it back so he can slide it onto your finger. “How long has this been in that drawer?”

“Since you moved in,” he says, and he takes your hand, kisses it, and admires your new accessory. “It was in my sock drawer before that, and I’m honestly not sure how long it was there. Two years, at least.” You frown just so you won’t cry, and he leans in to press his lips to the downturned curve of yours. “I told you, I always just knew.”

You deepen the kiss, run your hands over his sides beneath the soft t-shirt he slept in; his fingers move to the hem of the t-shirt you slept in as if to remove it, and you pause, pull back.

“No, wait, I’m gross. How are you even kissing me right now?” Aaron rolls his eyes, presses his mouth to yours repeatedly despite your half-hearted protests.

“Because I don’t care about morning breath, I’m marrying you.” He puts his hands in your hair, continues kissing, and you know resistance is futile; he wants you regardless, just as you are, and you would feel the same if roles were reversed—you do, every day.

“Mmh, okay but. At least let me. Shower first,” you mumble against his lips, and he rolls his eyes, leans back so he’s on his knees hovering over you, hands on his thighs.

“Would that make you feel better?” You nod happily, and he climbs off the bed, pulls you to your feet. “In that case, you go shower, and I’ll make breakfast as planned. And then, if your conditions are met, princess,” you wrinkle your nose, and then you both laugh, “I think I would like to make love to my fiancée, if that’s something that would interest you.”

“I’m very interested in that,” you agree, winding your arms around his neck, and you allow him one more kiss before you shuffle toward the shower, standing under the spray long enough to feel fully human again.

You drink the water, take the ibuprofen, and throw on his quarter-zip sweatshirt from the night before, and then meet him for eggs, toast, fruit, and kisses. He’s cleaned up the mess from last night, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and you fall a little bit in love all over again.

After breakfast, you make it as far as the couch, flat on your back with the sweatshirt hiked up around your stomach and Aaron’s head between your thighs; you moan, tug on his hair as he drags his tongue repeatedly through the wetness that clings to your pussy, and when he makes you come you close your legs around his shoulders, squeezing tightly, back arching off of the couch.

“Mmm. Should have locked you down a lot sooner,” you pant, encouraging him to climb on top of you. He licks his lips and leans in for a warm, soft kiss.

“I’ve been locked down since our first date. You wore a blue dress and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You pull his shirt over his head, and he pushes his boxers off, guides his cock inside you and plants his hands, noses along your cheek. “And now you’re mine.”

You can’t remember the last time you had sex in broad daylight—or the living room, for that matter—so each roll of his body, heavy and smooth against yours, is that much hotter as the sun shines in through the window, as birds chirp from the tree just outside. Your moans feel louder, more indecent, and you hold onto his ass, run a hand up his back, while he groans in your ear, whispers things like fuck and baby and mine.

“Aaron, please,” you sigh, digging your fingertips into his hips, and he kisses you, thrusts harder, knows what you need without having to hear it. He’s getting close too, huffs hot breath against your cheek, and you squeeze him tighter, press up against him. “Yes, hmm. I’ve got you, baby.” You move a hand to his hair, carding fingers through it, and he rests one gently over your throat, kisses you deep and wet, passionate, pounds against you until he comes.

He slides his hand down your body, rubs his fingertips over your clit, and this time your orgasm is softer, and you bite at his shoulder just to feel more connected, even though he is still inside you, heavy above you. You cling to him, catch your breath, and then you kiss a little before hurrying to get cleaned up and hoping you don’t make a mess of the couch.

When you reconvene in the living room, windows open, curtains blowing softly in the breeze, Aaron is on the couch with his laptop on his thighs. You plop down next to him, peer over his shoulder, and he raises his eyebrow and smiles.

“What do you think of Golden Retrievers?” You rest your head against him, look at the screen full of fuzzy yellow puppies, and sigh, content.

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[bonvoyagenoona]

Oh..hi Roomie!

Important drive thru questions:

Which BTS member:

1. Orders for you at the drive thru?

2. Let's you order (but drives)?

3. Let's you drive and order?

4. Orders from your lap, leaned out of his seat on the passenger side?

5. Can't make up their mind where they want to go but "doesn't want" to go wherever you suggest?

6. Begs to go that one specific place?

7. Goes to the Sonic and tries to order something NOT on the menu?

Lastly...

8. Would have sex with you, in the drive thru?

(Orrrrr maybe just fondle and fool around with you. Regardless of time of day OR crowd?)

Aaaahh, not the drive-thru! 🤣 I got so excited about this one! Hope I do our special drive-thru experiences justice, Roomie! Now, let's see what's on the menu...

Q: Which BTS member orders for you at the drive thru? A: Hobi

"Two #2s," Hobi calls out to the speaker, "one with a Diet Coke, and one with Sprite." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and turns to you with a funny grin. "Both, animal style." The broken speaker squawks some sort of message to you. Hobi smiles and says, "Thanks!" As you roll forward, you blink at him owlishly. It's not a hard order, but how did he know? "I guess I internalized it somehow," Hobi reflects, nodding and readjusting his rearview mirror. He turns to you, sunk and sullen in the front seat, Hobi picking you up from work in the middle of a blah kind of day. "How about you call in, and we eat these parked up at the arboretum?" he asks. "Would that make you feel better?" You smile at him, and it's lucky that he has the wherewithal to slam on the brakes when you lunge forward to kiss him, surprising the attendant at the the window. Hobi's sunshine will always, always make you feel better.

Q: Lets you order (but drives)? A: Jin

"On that little bacon cheeseburger, can you add lettuce, pickles, tomatoes, grilled onions, grilled mushrooms, ketchup, mustard, aaaaaand---" You scan the Five Guys condiments menu just to make sure you haven't missed anything. "Hot sauce?" you finish. "Sure. So that's the little bacon cheeseburger, the little cheeseburger, two drinks, and two Cajun Style fries," the speaker repeats. "No, one Cajun style, and one regular," you clarify. You turn to Jin, who just watches you with a fond smile. "We need to mix it up. So much spice in the Cajun fries," you add, scrunching your nose. "A perfect order," Jin tells you. "Especially with you leaned over me like that." He reaches for your chest, fondling your tits and licking his lip at your visible cleavage. "Mmm. Maybe I should cancel my order and just eat you instead," he jokes, eyes nearly making griddle marks upon staring at your boobs. "What was that? Cancel the order?" the speaker asks. "NO!!" you both yell in starved unison, before turning to each other and laughing so hard that you miss the total amount due.

Q: Lets you drive and order? A: Jimin

"Can't wait for them spicy nuggs," you chirp, dancing a little in your seat. Jimin just smirks at you, the radio playing the latest sexy banger in the background. He strokes his leg as he watches your hips curving, even if it is just for some late-night meal that you decided to get on a whim. "So cute," he mutters, delighted in the way you're enjoying yourself. "You'll change that opinion of me once you watch me down these nuggets," you say. Jimin laughs. "Visual evidence of meat going down your throat? I don't think that would change my opinion at all," he points out, unclicking his seat belt. "What are you doing?" you ask smiling at him. He wiggles in his seat, too. He looks ahead at the long line of cars. "Just getting more comfortable," he tells you innocently.

Q: Orders from your lap, leaned out of his seat on the passenger side? A: Taehyung

"Two! Oreo! McFlurries!" Taehyung yells, his chain grazing your thigh. You stifle the laughs that keep bobbing to the surface, tickled by that cold chain on your skin, as well as by the way Taehyung's wild eyes are staring at the screen. "Apple pies?" the speaker crackles back at you. "NO! TWO! OREO! MCFLURRIES!" Taehyung practically screams, so frustrated that he scratches his head. "Oh, sorry, ice cream machine is down," the speaker crackles back. Taehyung whimpers and mashes his face into your thigh. You laugh and call back, "Alright, thanks anyway." Taehyung mumbles as you drive, something about "all I wanted after a long day" and "don't ask for much" and "this was the one thing". You stay silent, letting him have his pity party, because he's been so generous when you've had yours. When he realizes you're back on the road, he sits up and looks at you. "Where are we going?" he asks. "DQ," you say. You raise your eyebrows. "They have Oreo blizzards." Taehyung mashes his face into your thigh again, peppering you with a flurry of kisses. "Thank you! Ah, I love you, jagi. You're the best."

Q: Can't make up their mind where they want to go but "doesn't want" to go wherever you suggest? A: Yoongi

"Ugh, really?" he whines, still not moving after the light has turned green. It doesn't matter. It's nearly 3 AM, and no one's on the road. "It's one of the only places still open," you laugh. He sighs. "But Taco Bell is barely food, let alone Mexican food." You purse your lips together, trying not to laugh through this whole conversation. "OK, well the only things around here that are still open are Taco Bell, White Castle---" Yoongi interrupts you with another long, dissatisfied groan. "IHOP---" "They don't have a drive-thru!" Yoongi complains. The light turns yellow again, and you can't help but chuckle at Yoongi's melancholy frown. "What if we start with what you want to eat?" you ask. "What are you in the mood for?" He shrugs. "I dunno. Jalapeno poppers?" You brighten and smile to balance out that frown. "Jack in the Box is still open, too," you suggest. Yoongi beams at you. "Perfect." He lightly takes his foot of the brake, but you gasp. "Yoongi!" He looks up and sees that the light has turned red again. "Ugh, really???" he whines again, making you cackle.

Q: Begs to go to that one specific place? A: Jungkook

"What's the place? What's that with the burgers?" he asks, bouncing up and down in the passenger seat, both hands balled into excited fists, tongue tip sticking out of the corner. "That barely narrows it down," you chuckle, as you drive. "Uh, they also do those big milkshakes?" he tries. "We really should have figured this out before getting in the car," you laugh, watching him stare at each car that passes you by. "They do paper bags?" he asks, "Y'know, with those lines?" Now you're getting somewhere. "Lines," you say, thinking. "What color are they?" "I dunno. Pink? Or orange?" Your head snaps up. Orange. "Whataburger?" you ask. Jungkook's eyes widen, and he nods fervidly. "Yeah! What's That Burger!" he tries, making you snort. "A burger and a strawberry shake, right?" you ask, and he nods fervidly again. "Two burgers and shakes coming right up," you say, clicking on your left signal to make a U-turn. "Did we pass it already?" Jungkook asks. You look to your left, and you see that the Whataburger is right next to you, the entrance just on the other side of the median. "Nice!" Jungkook exclaims, leaning over and smooching you. "You always understand me, jagi."

Q: Goes to the Sonic and tries to order something NOT on the menu? A: High Namjoon

"Uhh, OK, I want..." Namjoon hangs out the back left window, words slipping out of him so lazily. You crack up as you remember how badly he wanted to be the one to order, but obviously, not the one to drive. His long arms reach out for the giant, lit window, almost as lit as he is. He clutches the metal where the speaker sits. "Do you have steak??" he yells. "No, sir, we don't," the speaker says back, for the eighth time. "Our menu choices are just above you. You can refer to that menu when placing your order." Namjoon's red eyes look back up at the menu. "Right. Right. Man, you have so many drinks." You guffaw. "It's kind of what we're known for, sir?" the speaker responds. "OK, uhhhh... wait a minute wait a minute wait a minute, uh, can I get..." He hums. "A PATTY MELT?" he screams suddenly, earning a giddy squeak from you, and a squeal of feedback from the speaker. "No, sir, please refer to the menu above you." Not wanting to run out of patience, and not wanting to get spit in your food, you roll down your window and take over. "We'll have two All-American dogs and two extra long cheesy tots, please," you answer. "Yessss!" Namjoon exclaims happily. "That's exactly what I wanted!" The person taking your order sighs with relief. After sharing your total, they quip, "Be right out." You roll up both windows for the wait, as Namjoon asks excitedly, "You think they'll bring the skates?" You smile at him in the rearview mirror. "Want me to ask?" He shakes his head. "No. I think they're mad at me." You turn around and smile at him. "Tell you what. When we get home, let's scarf these hot dogs down..." And then you eye him. "And then I'll scarf your hot dog down?" Namjoon's eyes widen. "Deal!"

Q: Would have sex with you, in the drive thru? (Orrrrr maybe just fondle and fool around with you. Regardless of time of day OR crowd?) A: Jimin

High Namjoon is too hungry, but he'll take you up on that hot dog/hot hog offer and return the favor later. Jungkook's hands are already dipping his fries in his open milkshake by the time you pull away, but his hands will be in a different box soon. Yoongi still won't be able to decide if he wants to eat you or the meal first when you get home. Taehyung wants to finish that Blizzard, saving somce ice cream to play with (with you). Jin hates car sex, way too cramped for all the crazy things he always wants to do to you. And Hobi just thinks things have their utility and place; cars are for riding and driving, and beds are best for fucking, and he wants to get you back safely so that you both can do that the minute you're home.

But Jimin.

Jimin, so eerily quiet on the drive up. Jimin, so focused on the way you place your order, lips moving around the words you say. Jimin, so naughty, and yet so, so nice. As nice as the fingers that are crawling up your thigh as you pull up to the window. "Jiminie," you coo, shooting him a warning look as you move up in line. "What?" he asks, feigning innocence. Just as quick as he undid his seatbelt, he undoes your fly somehow, and his hands slip into your flesh. "Jimin!" you gasp. Before you know it, you hear the click of the parking brake, and your seat is all the way back. Jimin is writhing on top of you, cock wet and hard from touching himself on the ride over here, and watching you in your everyday glory, so naturally sexy in the way you do things, from keying on the ignition to rolling down your window just so. He slams into you, car rocking on its axles, your whimpers floating outside. You barely hear -- and care -- when the overworked attendant shakes your order at you and knocks on the half-opened glass of your window, bellowing, "Sir! Ma'am! This is a Wendy's!!"

More Important Questions

#bts fanfiction #bts drabbles #bts smut #bts x you #bts fluff #jimin smut #namjoon smut #jungkook fluff #yoongi fluff #taehyung fluff #jin light smut #hobi fluff #bts x reader #bts x y/n #important questions #mochilatae #ROOMIE! #hope you like this one! #ahhhh our drive-thrus!

[neocatharsis]

NCT 127 Reveal The Hobbies & Obsessions They Can’t Give Up In Their Down Time

In Elite Daily’s series Rent-Free, celebrities unpack the one thought, memory, or unforgettable pop culture moment that'll always live in their head. In this piece, NCT 127 reveals the interests and hobbies even die-hard fans will be surprised to learn about.

In the past year, most musical acts had to cancel their highly-anticipated tours due to the coronavirus pandemic, and NCT 127 was no exception. That’s why its members — Johnny, Haechan, Mark, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Yuta, Taeil, Jungwoo, and Doyoung — have taken every opportunity to get closer to their fans with new music. After dropping their second Japanese EP, Loveholic, in February, the group returned on June 4 with “Save,” their latest single all about making unforgettable memories. Up next? An entirely new era. On July 7 (the group’s fifth anniversary), they announced their next album is coming in September. In celebration of all the exciting things ahead, NCT 127 opened up about how they wind down after a hard day’s work.

NCT 127 tells Elite Daily these past five years as a group have been worthwhile, and it’s all thanks to their fans, called NCTzens, who have supported them throughout their journey. “[We have so many] memories from practicing together pre-debut to our actual debut stage, and also all those times we spent working on our music and performance to meet our fans at our first concert and first world tour as well,” the group collectively says. “Each and every moment we spend on our music is for our fans, and we are working hard to better show ourselves in various different ways, so we hope you’re all excited!”

Fans have impacted the group so much that they’ve become the muse behind NCT 127’s biggest tracks. “The inspiration [behind ‘Save’] comes from wanting to save our precious memories with each other and with our fans,” the group says. And NCT 127 hasn’t let go of a single one. While they haven’t been able to perform in front of a live audience since early 2020, they held their online Beyond The Origin concert in May. They add, “It was new getting to meet fans from every part of the world at the same time.”

While the guys have their hands full recording their next project, they’re making sure to get some much-deserved R&R whenever they can. Below, NCT 127 reveal the interests that have been living in their minds rent-free.

Johnny

Johnny is a major fan of horror movies. “I love how they keep you on the edge of your seat the whole time you’re watching,” he says. His favorite scary movie of all time is Shutter, which is about a couple who accidentally run over a woman and then see her ghost in photographs they develop. “Even though I watched it when I was young, I still remember the movie, and it’s one I think about often. I’ve seen the movie multiple times since I first saw it in high school, and I recall being scared of red-lit rooms for quite some time afterward,” he says.

His most recent watch was The Conjuring franchise. He adds, “After I saw the movies, I looked up some articles about the behind stories. They were pretty interesting!”

Taeil

Taeil keeps music on his mind even after a full day of rehearsals. “Audio speakers really amplify music so you can hear the intricate details of the track, and there’s also that sense of excitement from when you hear a sound you like!” Taeil says, explaining his love for audio. “I like the speaker brand Focal. There’s still a lot I don’t know about speakers, but I find the brand very attractive since you can experience a flat sound that’s similar to what the songwriter intended to create.”

Taeil says the group’s sound has changed a lot since their debut in 2016. He says, “With time, our team color is definitely becoming more distinct and defined. I think the sound we have now is a very captivating one with strong hip-hop and R&B colors.”

Taeyong

The group’s leader enjoys connecting with others, but especially with NCTzens. “[Our relationship] is a very precious and one that I’m truly grateful for. Not only do we enjoy the same things, but we also try to improve and show that to each other. All of this is very special and meaningful to me,” he says. “It’s nice to learn of each other’s culture, and by singing in different languages, it makes me feel as if I’ve grown closer to our fans from those countries.”

Yuta

Yuta loves exercising because it’s very rewarding, and although he doesn’t have a specific fitness routine, he prefers working out at a gym rather than at home. “I like how exercising makes me feel stronger and helps me to build up my strength... which is very helpful when practicing group dances that require attention to body angles,” he says. “We had a short preparation period [to learn ‘Save’], but I was able to learn the choreography quickly and had a fun time preparing.”

Doyoung

Ever since he was cast as Axel von Fergen in the Korean adaptation of Marie Antoinette, which is based on the 2006 musical of the same name that originally premiered in Japan, Doyoung has found a newfound appreciation for theatre. “I find it very precious how you can share emotions through singing and acting,” he says. “It’s been very meaningful preparing for my musical debut, and it’s really all thanks to the amazing seniors and producers! The process in itself has been a very fun one, and I have been preparing with a heart of gratitude.”

Doyoung is set to make his musical debut on July 13 when the production opens at the Charlotte Theater in Seoul.

Jaehyun

Jaehyun says he “fell in love” with tennis in April because it helps relieve stress. “I’ve always enjoyed trying out new sports like basketball, bowling, and boxing whenever I had the chance. But I actually started tennis because my father recommended it,” he says. “I know this is the case for all sports, but tennis isn’t something you can master after a few tries. It requires persistence, and I started to enjoy it even more as I saw myself gradually improving.”

Jaehyun’s favorite tennis player is Jannik Sinner, a 19-year-old Italian athlete who competed in the 2020 French Open as the youngest quarterfinalist in the men’s singles event. He says, “I’d really like to go see a tournament.”

Mark

Lately, Mark is interested in taking better care of his hair. “It’s really important to me because I change my hair color a lot, and because I want my hair and scalp to be healthy,” he says. While he’s experimented with just about every color in the rainbow, there’s one he always loves going back to. He adds, “I think I liked my blue hair the most. It is my favorite color, after all, and I believe my fans liked it as much as I did. I was glad to be able to film the ‘Save’ music video during my blue-haired period. It fit well with all the scenes and the aesthetics!”

Jungwoo

Similar to Yuta, Jungwoo has also had exercising on his mind. “My life has become more lively since I started exercising. More so than exercising to improve my physique, I exercise in order to have a healthier, richer life. Also, it makes me proud knowing I’m spending my day more productively,” he says. “The first thing I do after I wake up is to start off the day with simple stretches that improve body balance... Stretching helps to warm up the body, which reduces the risk of injury, and can also boost your mood! I think this is why when I dance, I’m able to express those movements in more detail.”

Haechan

Haechan is now experimenting with all things fragrance. “I started using perfume since scents can give a sense of self-satisfaction and because I wanted to smell good all the time!” he says, adding he doesn’t have a favorite perfume. “The scent that suits me well, that I personally like, and that will suit me is always different!” However, there’s one scent that will always remind him of a certain memory with NCT 127. “This might sound funny, but I’d have to say the smell of sweat in our practice rooms,” Haechan says, adding it’s “satisfying” because it makes him feel like they worked hard after a long day. As for what draws fans to NCT 127, Haechan credits their “sincere music and performances.”

© Elite Daily

#nct #nct 127 #Taeil #Johnny #Taeyong #Yuta #Doyoung #Jaehyun #Jungwoo #Mark #Haechan

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x09 Review

Spring Break was a bit of an odd ep but helped move some key plots forward. Let’s dig in!

Well people can no longer claim that Portwell is one sided. We finally got Gina’s pov and she starts off the ep uncertain whether the shift in their relationship means that EJ likes her but by the end of the ep she seems sure of herself and that EJ likes her back. I liked that she didn’t try to pretend that nothing had changed or that she hadn’t noticed potential signs that EJ might like her; it always sucks when tv characters act like idiots. 

Perhaps the most important reveal of this ep was that Gina has a much older estranged brother who left her and her mom many years ago. That certainly makes her backstory more tragic and is definite set up for her brother to eventually return.

The writers continue to give Portwell great tropes, capping this ep off with an airport rom-com trope that also calls back to EJ getting Gina the place ticket so she could come back in S1. Not only did Gina keep EJ’s Duke sweatshirt but she altered it to fit her better which is both sweet and bold in the assumption that it was hers to keep. Gina got her sign when not only did EJ show up to drive Gina home and take her luggage but he brought her the granola bar that she had wanted but forgot to pack. I wonder if her posting on her story that she was ubering home after her flight was cancelled was intended to see if EJ would show up since the camera focused on her posting it. Also sweet that she’s taken to calling EJ, ‘ Eej’. 

EJ’s opening was good, shows a lot of his character growth from the selfish guy he was in S1 and how he’s learned to value other people which of course leads into his feelings for Gina. We got another great use of the camera as character tonight when Gina was laughing after her facetime call with EJ until she realized that the camera was on her. 

Jack was a lot of fun. Though he didn’t really change Gina’s mind over anything like the ep description said he would.  Seemed like Gina was largely over Ricky and wondering about EJ at the beginning and the end solidified her feelings for EJ but Jack didn’t really play a role in that, it’s not like he encouraged Gina to reach out to EJ or anything. There’s a vague sense in which Jack being nomadic linked him to Ricky’s unreliability in Gina’s eyes with her craving stability but that’s a stretch. Jack mentioned that the second most dangerous part of a plane ride is when the plane takes off, a hint to the blossoming Portwell relationship where in order to take off one or both of them has to risk a confession even though they could be turned down.

This ep might seem a bit weird in hindsight. The zoom parts probably won’t age well and five years from now people might be wondering why they had Gina hang out with a manic pixie dream boy of sorts for an ep.

The path is clear for canon Portwell in the finale with EJ being Gina’s second chance at romance and her first kiss since they clearly telegraphed it out of nowhere. I’ve been impressed with the great work the writers have been doing since 2x05 to build up Portwell as a ship but also work on Gina and EJ as individual characters; they’ve been the highlight of the season so far. 

There was discourse this past week over how well or poorly Portwell has been set up. Objectively very few ships on this show get much in the way of set up or consistent writing. Redlyn and Kowie had barely any set up before getting together. Seblos had none (though in fairness that was due to Disney restrictions) and Miss Jenn and Mike Bowen didn’t have much set up either. Rini did get lots of development in S1 but that’s because they had already dated and were the main ship of the show. The show’s not really about slow burns, if Jenzzara canons in the finale they’ll count and if Rina ever got together they’d also count but neither of those ships have gotten consistent development with Mazzara not being in several eps and Gina and Ricky not even interacting for the past 3 eps. 

Is Portwell a slowburn? In a sense since they did feature quite a bit in each other’s S1 plot lines and even had a fake dating plot but it is true that they were platonic and not that close in S1 so it’s a wash. There was clear set up for romantic Portwell in 1x10 with team wonderstudies and Gina staring at EJ (which interestingly enough looked more like set up for Gina to pine over EJ). I think the main problem is that even though we saw Gina and EJ hanging out in the background we didn’t get any scenes of substance between them until 2x05. It was a mistake and there should have been some scene, like EJ and Gina commiserating in 2x03 over being single on Valentine’s Day or something like that. Hell there was even that still from 2x01 of EJ and Gina looking at each other at the piano while they were in the frame between Ricky and Nini singing and having a moment  which would have been good foreshadowing but that shot wasn’t in the ep.

Whether Tim just really wanted Portwell to be a surprise in 2x05 as a mid-season twist to throw the audience off of what looked like a Rini/Rina triangle or he was unsure as to whether he wanted to go with Portwell or if he just planned it out poorly we may never know. Regardless they’ve had great writing for 4 eps in a row now which puts them slightly ahead of the 3 eps in a row of development Rina got in S1. I’m sure if someone added up their screen time they’d find that Portwell has more screen time this season than Kowie and more screen time than Redlyn or Seblos  got in S1. 

Caswell cousins was fun and Ashlyn did in fact paint EJ’s nails. 

Set up for Seblos drama next week, it’s refreshing to see Seb being jealous over Carlos flirting with other boys that’s definitely not something you see on Disney shows.

Ricky got some healing done with his mom. Enough to cover their issues? No but this is probably the best this show is capable of. There was a brief mention of therapy sandwiched between other options which sounds more like checking off a box then setting up Ricky actually going to therapy. I noticed Lynne was smiling at odd times like when she told Ricky she knew about his breakup with Nini; whether that was poor directing or acting I don’t know. Who knows if we’ll see Lynne again. As an aside still so wild that Tim named Lynne who’s been a kinda shitty mom after his own mom who he seems to be fairly close with.

Really liked You ain’t seen nothin as a song but not a fan of the Tiktok style vid. I’ll level with you wildcats, I’m too old to really get Tiktok, it just seems like a crappy version of Vine to me. Let you go was good, seemed better fitted for Joshua Bassett’s voice than some of his previous songs. A big sign that they’re not circling back to Rini for a long time for sure. Though on that note we got a bit of a hint that Ricky was Nini’s muse which may one day come back as a way to help bring them back together. 

Looking Ahead:

If there’s only 3 weeks left till the Menkies, with only 2 weeks left for rehearsal due to spring break, it’s hard to see East High winning unless North High is disqualified or has to withdraw. 

Lily is in a promo photo so she’s likely the unexpected facetime Ricky gets which is what I had theorized. Also makes it much more likely that she’s the party crasher Ricky re-evaluates in the finale though what Tim actually wants to do with those two I do not know.

There’s little point in bringing back the Valentine’s chocolate since there’s no real stakes. Rini are already broken up, Gina hasn’t spoken to Ricky since 2x06, and it’s not like Nini and Gina were ever close so even if they stopped talking to each other it wouldn’t really affect the show in any way. 

Seems pretty likely that Second Chances refers to Gina realizing that her first try with Ricky failed but her second chance with EJ won’t and that leads to her sharing her truth and cue the Portwell confession and kiss, perhaps with an assist on EJ’s end from Mazzara. We’ve gone well past the point where Portwell can be brushed off as just a plot device to help Rina but Tim is playing with fire by getting the audience so on board with Portwell if he’s once again going to have EJ lose a girl he likes to Ricky in S3.

Gina certainly needs to talk with Ricky and I do think that happens in ep 11 or 12 and leaves them on better terms. As I mentioned last week, if Tim was smart he’d slam the door on Rina if he’s going with canon Portwell or vice versa. If he wants Rina to be a slow burn he’s really botched the writing this season, it’s been too one sided and too angsty to sustain any kind of momentum or audience interest. They haven’t even interacted for 3 eps now and not only has it not affected the show but it’s inarguably made Gina’s story line much better.  Again I don’t think he’s smart enough to not try and do Portwell and then later Rina but he’s accidentally set up the Rina story line to quite easily slam the door permanently on them by having their conversation be closure for Gina who’s moved on and an apology from Ricky who never liked her back as much as Gina liked him.

Not looking forward to seeing Nini basically live out Olivia Rodrigo’s life in future seasons

Curious to see Carlos’ apology song to Seb. Ricky helping him with it is a great way to help start redeeming Ricky’s character in the audiences eye’s. According to Matt there is a bit of a Ricky/EJ rivalry this season and if it’s really happening the sleepover would be a good place to do it though I hope it’s not about Gina. 

Until next week wildcats.

#HSMTMTS #Portwell #Gina Porter #EJ Caswell #Ricky Bowen #Nini Salazar-Roberts #Seblos #seb matthew-smith #HSMTMTS Reviews

[diazevan]

I'm falling apart (and all I want is to trust you)

Eddie and Christopher's reactions to Buck collapsing in 3x03: The Searchers.

Christopher Diaz Week, Day 4: Eddie & Chris + “You’re the most important person.”

Read on AO3

Eddie attempted to hold his breath, but he couldn’t.

A natural instinct fought against him, forcing him to struggle through quick strangled breaths.

He leaned his head back, scanning Christopher for possible injuries with rapid eyes, and when he couldn’t see anything aside from a few scratches, he drew his son back into his arms, frantically gripping onto him as if he would disappear, without a moment’s notice.

Me and Christopher, we were at the beach.

Eddie screwed up his face as he pressed his forehead against Christopher’s chest, taking a moment to listen to the comforting sound of his heart beating.

He swallowed the rising bile in his throat.

His son had been there, he survived the wave as it came crashing down upon him, and Eddie wasn’t; he would need more than ten fingers to count all the times he wasn’t there for his son, and the longer the list became, the heavier he felt.

 “Dad—” Christopher’s tired voice muttered, “Buck fell over.”

Buck.

When Eddie had set eyes on his best friend, with two bleeding gashes across his face and an injured arm tied up in a makeshift bandage, he was sure he hadn’t felt dread like it since he had seen Shannon laid lifelessly across that street.

There was the initial shock; seeing Buck, bloodied and bruised, the same guy who’d escaped death twice in the shortest space of time, who happened to be on blood thinners, barely standing on his own two feet.

Then, it changed quickly, Eddie’s fatherly instincts canceled out everything else and his mind fixated on Christopher’s absence.

Christopher hiccupped, “Dad.”

Eddie, I just don't know how to say it.

Christopher tangled his legs around Eddie’s middle, tucking his head against his shoulder as he admitted, in the gentlest of whispers, “I want Buck.”

He was looking for Buck.

“Okay.” Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip as he swayed up onto his feet, allowing the world around him to come crashing back, “Let’s—”

Buck was down. Still awake, but his eyes were unfocused, staring blankly ahead; his skin was an awful grey, and his breaths were less controlled than Eddie’s erratic ones.

A panicked Hen was perching behind, acting as a human pillow for Buck to fall back on, but that didn’t stop her from ripping a glove off, to press her fingers on his pulse point.

Bobby had his hand pressed firmly against Buck’s shoulder, he was speaking, but Eddie couldn’t hear him.

Chimney charged over, clutching a medkit as he knelt, his hand on Buck’s cheek, trying to gain his attention, but Buck barely flinched at the touch. 

Eddie knew exactly what Buck needed and what the half-asleep kid bundled in his arms did too.

Reassurance.

“Buck—” Eddie breathed as he hurried over, “Hey, Buck—”

Buck lifted his eyes, they widened when he met Eddie’s gaze, “Eddie, I—” He tried to move, but was easily pulled back, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie rushed to reassure, “It’s okay, look…” He got onto one knee, sitting Christopher down, he looped his arms under his son’s, and turned him, so that he was facing Buck, “Look who it is.”

Christopher extended his hand, gently laying it across Buck’s cheek, “Buck.”

Buck choked out a sob, his face leaning into the hold, “Christopher—”

“I couldn’t find you,” Christopher admitted, “So, I just kept swimming.”

Buck attempted a lopsided grin, “So did I.” He scrunched his nose, “Sorry I couldn’t find you.”

“But I found you!” Christopher jumped up, off his dad’s knee, bringing him his arms to gently wrap around Buck, “And you didn’t stop looking.”

Eddie caught Hen’s face, as he crumpled, tears filling her eyes, Bobby and Chimney were the same, turning his faces away.

Christopher leaned back, hand on his chest, “I’m Nemo.” He proclaimed, “And you’re Dory.” He prodded the center of Buck’s chest, “Dad’s Marlin.”

Eddie wiped a hand over his eyes as he smiled.

Buck nodded, his eyelids drooping slightly, “That’s right, buddy.”

“Okay—” Eddie reached out, reluctantly pulling Christopher away, “Uncle Chimney needs to make sure Buck is okay.”

Hen spoke soft, “And I can check you over too Chris—”

“I’m okay,” Christopher hummed, “Buck saved me.”

Hen nodded, tying her arm tighter around Buck’s unstable front, “I bet he did.”

Chimney was busy manhandling Buck, doing all the routine checks, “Your chest doesn’t sound too good, Buckaroo.”

“I’m—” Buck let his head flop against Bobby’s shoulder, “Tired.”

Eddie jumped to his feet, scooping Christopher up with him, facing him away from the chaos.

“I know—” Bobby jostled him, “But you know the drill, kid, stay awake.”  

Buck nodded, “Okay.”

“I’m gonna see if they’ve got a bed for him,” Chimney hurried through the automatic doors, where he collided with Athena, who jumped into action as soon as her eyes found Buck; she followed behind Chimney.

“Pulse is erratic,” Hen muttered, darting her eyes between Eddie and Bobby, “We don’t know how long he was in the water.”

Eddie informed them, “They were at the beach.”

Hen lowered her head, shaking it.

“That’s—” Bobby bit his lip, “That’s impossible.”

Hen squeezed his arm, “They made it out.” She moved her head, turning her attention to Buck, “Hey, you wanna show me those beautiful blue eyes of yours?”

“Sure,” Buck blinked slowly, “But you’re married.”

“Ha.” Hen stroked her fingers through his hair, “In your dreams.”

Buck stammered, “Lost Chris—”

“He’s here, Buck,” Hen told him, pointing up, “He’s okay.”

“No.” Buck was stern, “We were safe, then lost him—”

Bobby looked to Eddie, “It was a natural disaster, son,” He told him, “Not your fault.”

“Wave came back.”

The wave retracted half an hour before sundown, and that was six hours ago, that was how long they spent apart. Could have been worse. That meant they spent six hours together and almost five apart.

“We were on a firetruck,” Buck laughed at the irony of it all, “He fell in, and I jumped—”

Eddie closed his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath as he drew Christopher closer.

Buck didn’t even hesitate to follow.

Eddie wished he didn’t have to listen, but at least Buck was talking.

“Eddie—” Buck winced, “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop.” Eddie ordered, “You did everything right and he’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” Buck relaxed, heavy against Bobby’s side, “He’s okay—” He muttered as his eyes came to a close.

“No.” Hen patted his back, trying to coax him awake, “Buck!”

“Come on, kid,” Bobby turned, hands on Buck’s face, “You’ve gotta stay awake.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Hey—” Chimney jogged over, panic etched on his face, “We’ve got a bed free, Athena’s making sure nobody claims it.”

Hen spun her head, “We’re gonna need a gurney.”

“No.” Buck winced, “No—”

Hen pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing, “I don’t like—”

“Please—” In his fevered state, Buck moved closer to Bobby, “Please!”

Bobby grabbed at Buck’s loose limbs, tugging him up so that his head was pressing against the older man’s chest, “Hey.”

“Want—” Whatever Buck wanted, he was determined, “Need—”

“What do you need, kid?”

Buck slurred, his breathing slowed, “Important—”

“What’s important?”

“You.”

Eddie could pinpoint the moment that Bobby’s heart shattered.

“I’ve got you, kid,” Bobby tapped his arm, “I’m right here.”

Hen was unable to hide the slight crack in her voice, “We need to get him inside, Bobby.”

“Okay.” Bobby looped his arm under Buck’s back, clutching his fingers around his shoulder, “I’ll take him.”

Chimney’s eyes widened, “You sure?”

“I’m not as old as I look,” Bobby got up onto his feet, one arm under Buck’s back and the other under his knees, gathering his legs, “See.”

Hen gently lifted Buck’s head, letting it sit at an uncomfortable angle against Bobby’s chest.

Buck was a little taller than Bobby, but it worked, for the most part, and Bobby didn’t even flinch.

Chimney gently tapped Bobby’s back, wearing his cautious smile, “Let’s get him inside.”

Bobby and Chimney headed towards the automatic doors, people parted to allow them through.

Hen cleared her throat, “Eddie, I can check Christopher over now.”

“Thank you.”

Christopher held up his head, looking around, “Wanna go with Buck.” He was clear and precise with his demand, “Please.”

Eddie didn’t want to keep them apart, but knew, for now, they had to be.

“You can later.” Hen pressed a hand to Christopher’s back, “When the doctors have checked him over, you’ll be the first one to give him a hug, okay?”

Christopher nodded, “Okay.”

Eddie was quiet, while sitting on the corner of the cot, Christopher on his lap as Hen did her usual checks, asking Christopher a couple of questions, which he answered happily while peppering in the fact that Buck was a superhero.

“He’s good,” Hen assured Eddie, “Really good.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s barely got a scratch on him, and the ones he does have don’t even need bandages,” She told him, “A change of clothes and a good night’s sleep, that’s what this one needs.”

“That’s—”

“I know,” Hen nodded, “Buck really went through the wringer—”

“He spent six hours searching alone,” Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip, keeping his voice low, “Bleeding out—”

“Like I said before,” Hen lifted her shoulders, “He’s a golden retriever.”

Eddie snorted a laugh.

“And a fighter.” Hen locked her fingers together, “He did good. Both of them did.” She stood up, “I’ll go and check on him, I’ll report back to you, are you staying?”

“Can’t keep these two apart for too long,” Eddie tied his arm around Christopher’s front, “I won’t do that.”

“Okay.” She nodded, “I’ll see if I can grab some blankets too.” She turned on her heel, heading for the main entrance, quick on her feet.

Christopher shuffled off Eddie’s lap, taking the seat next to him and resting his head on his arm, “Will Buck be okay?”

“He will be,” Eddie said with an uncertain nod, “It’s been a long day.”

“He got hurt looking for me?” Christopher lifted his chin, “Why?”

“He was scared,” Eddie calmed his voice, “You’re a very important person and he loves you.”

He squeaked, “I love him too.”

“It must have been scary, when you couldn’t find him,” Eddie combed a hand through Christopher’s hair, his heart beating at a mile a minute.

“I looked for him, Dad, promise.” Christopher wrapped his hand around Eddie’s, “Like he looked for me.”

“Yeah, and you found him, buddy,” Eddie breathed, “You found each other.”

Christopher straightened his back, searching the crowd, “Is everybody here important?”

“Yeah, everybody is,” He spoke optimistically, of course, knowing that they were more than a few terrible people in the world, but that wasn’t a conversation for now, “But guess what?”

Christopher offered his most adorable grin, “What?”

Eddie pressed his finger against Christopher’s chest, “You’re the most important person.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really…” Eddie scrunched his nose, “To me, Pepa, Abuela, Abuelo, Buck…”

“That’s cool.” Christopher smiled, “You’re important too, Daddy.”

Eddie tucked him closer, “Thank God for you, kid.”

“Hey…” Chimney jogged over, holding a bunch of blankets, he darted his eyes around while he headed over, searching the camp for somebody, “Have you seen Maddie?”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “Is she on her way?”

“Last I heard, stuck in traffic,” Chimney sighed, “Apparently, Buck phoned her, just before—” He cut himself off, “Here.”

Eddie grasped the blankets, wrapping one around Christopher, “Thanks.”

Christopher celebrated, “Thanks Chimney!”

Chimney smiled, “No problem, kid.”

“How’s Buck doing?” Eddie asked, his knee bouncing.

“He’s doing okay,” Chimney lowered his voice, “They’re letting him rest right now, he’s latched onto Bobby like some sort of octopus.”

Eddie snorted a fond laugh.

“He was a little out of it,” Chimney grinned, “But he made Bobby and Athena cry.”

“Hang on, he made Athena cry?” Eddie held up a hand, “We’re talking about the same Athena, here, right?”

“I know.” Chimney hissed through his teeth, “He basically assumed that everybody would wanna go home, like leave him—”

Eddie smile gradually disappeared; he always had the feeling that Buck was used to being abandoned, and he hated it.

“Said something about his mom and it pushed Athena, a little,” Chimney explained, “He’s sleeping now.”

“Any room for us?” Eddie asked, “I think they need each other.”

“They do.” Chimney spoke in full agreement, “He’s being transferred to First Presbyterian in an hour, should be more room there.”

“Good.”

Christopher yawned, “It’s been a long day, Dad.”

Eddie and Chimney laughed at that.

“Yeah, bud,” Eddie agreed, “It’s been a long day, but you can sleep if you like.”

“Nope.” Christopher sang, “Not until I see Buck.”

Chimney lifted his eyebrows as if to say, ‘we’ll see.’

He was proven wrong as even on the journey to First Presbyterian; Christopher didn’t sleep.

Once they bypassed a couple of rules, they made it into Buck’s room, and Christopher crawled up onto the bed, latching onto Buck’s side, the pair falling asleep instantly.

Eddie relaxed in the seat beside them, crossing his arms, letting himself drift off to sleep.

There was nobody in the world that he trusted, with his son, more than Buck.

#911 fanfiction #911 #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #bobby nash #hen wilson #chimney han #firefam #buddie if you squint #liberty writes

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: I’m so so sorry this took so long! I redid the whole thing. We’re going to back up a bit in this chapter and visit the past. Please check the warnings before reading. Also, my requests are open. Send ideas if you’re feeling particularly angsty! Or even fluff, I’d like to try my hand at it. As always, let me know what you think of this chapter! For tags, please send in ask! 

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Abuse, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

2 years ago.

Bucky tapped his fingers on the table as he checked his watch again. 8:15. Forty-five minutes late. Again. He let out a huge sigh, barely able to hold himself from scratching his eyes out. The curly-haired waitress went back to him with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. My manager told me I really need to take your order now. There’s already a line waiting outside…” she let her sentence trail sheepishly. Bucky tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks and gave her an unconvincing smile instead, reciting his order. When she left with visible relief on her face, he picked up his phone and called his wife again. He had tried to call and text her earlier but she hadn’t picked up.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, sounding frazzled and irritated as she cleaned up after her rude customer. He just had the audacity to leave a mess after complaining and whining about the wifi three times. She could barely keep her eyes from rolling. 

“Hey, babe. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you at the restaurant,” Bucky’s defeated voice on the other line replied. 

“Oh shit!” She shrieked, attracting the heads of the other customers as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She had lost track of time. Bucky had been waiting for her for almost an hour. On their anniversary. Oh crap, crap, crap. 

“Oh my god, baby. I’m so sorry! I’m understaffed and I lost track of time! Could you please wait for me? I’m so sorry!” She quickly took off her apron and changed into the dress she had brought with her that morning for their date. Bucky had been planning this. He arranged for Lizzie’s babysitter and everything, practically bouncing off with excitement for this night. He wanted to try out this new restaurant and between raising Lizzie and making sure Winter Bakery was still making a profit, they haven’t seen much of each other lately. She just couldn’t find the time whereas Bucky’s stable position in Shield gave him more authority to delegate. And he literally had been trained for this for years. All those late-nighters at the university and all the grunt work he and Steve went through have finally paid up. They were at the top of their game, one of the youngest to acquire their positions. They were heroes in the investment banking world. Life was easy for him now, cherry on top of the cake. He only wished Y/N could be there with him. But she was still on shaky ground with her business and he fully understood that. 

“Of course! I already picked our appetizers though. They were trying their best to kick me out gently if I didn’t order anything,” 

“Oh, my poor Bucky. You should’ve flashed them your smile, charmed your way. They would’ve made you stay,” she replied, fixing her ponytail, not having the time to retouch her makeup anymore. This’ll just have to do. 

“Really, now. It was a waitress, you know.” He teased back. 

A beat before Y/N replied in mock seriousness. “In that case, don’t you dare. I’ll be there in 15!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. See you, babe. I love you--,” 

But before he could even finish his sentence, the line had dropped on the other end.  

_______________________________________________________________________

1 year ago.

“Daddy, look, apples!” Lizzie pointed from her seat in the grocery cart. Her legs swinging as she giggled at the heap of apples on their side. “Yeah, baby, you’re right.” Bucky replied absentmindedly, not even bothering to look as he stared confusedly at the bunch of green vegetables in front of him. The list Y/N gave him said scallions, but how the hell was he supposed to know which was which? Scallions, spring onions, green onions, they were all the same right? He suddenly regretted volunteering to do their grocery shopping alone, having no clue what half of the list Y/N prepared even meant. It was the weekend, they were all supposed to go together and then have a quick visit to the toy store after, for one more of Lizzie’s birthday gifts. She had just turned 3 a week ago and he couldn’t help but promise to let her pick out another doll. When Y/N had given him a pointed look while Lizzie clung on and gushed to him, he couldn’t help but to just give her a tiny shrug. He grew up with nothing, he was gonna give his little girl everything. But that morning when he thought the three of them finally had time to spend together, Y/N couldn’t make it again. She was having problems with her manager and had to go into work unexpectedly. Now, she wasn’t even answering his calls when he had to ask her about the most complicated grocery list he’s ever seen in his whole life. 

“Daddy, when are we getting my doll?” Lizzie asked again, looking up at him as she clutched her favorite white wolf stuffed toy. 

“After this, sweetheart.” He answered, preoccupied and calling Y/N again. This time when she didn’t answer, he gave up, grabbed the one nearest to him and hoped for the best. 

When he’s gotten halfway through the list and let Lizzie point at the snacks she wanted for school, he let his mind wander, when the hell had they become like this? He barely saw his wife anymore. Her problems with her bakery cafe, always dragging her away from them. He wished she could find competent people who would stay but if it weren’t her manager, it was her baker and so on. And if she was finally free, he’d be the one who was busy. It was hard and annoying but coupled that with taking care of an over-enthusiastic three-year-old, it was also exhausting.

He missed Y/N and he wished he could spend time with her. He completely understood that she was always needed at work. He had been through that in their early 20s, but they didn’t have a kid then to compete for their time and understanding it was different from actually living it. Their marriage had become stagnant. The banality of their everyday life, a stark contrast to how they used to be when they were just a couple of kids off college who rented a too-small apartment with his little sister, Becca. Time has flown and he’s finally achieved the life he’s always wanted; a big duplex apartment, a steady high-income job and a family he had always yearned for but never really knew he needed. All of the things he promised himself when he was younger and had nothing, he had now and more, yet there was still something missing. He missed the thrill of his life, chasing his dreams had always kept him motivated, distracted. Now that he had it all, he was at his wits’ end. Maybe it was because they were also growing apart, he could feel it. Y/N had always been able to make him happy and whole; he had always been able to rely on her emotionally. She was the better part of him and now that she was becoming distant, he hung onto her like a lifeline but his insistence on going on vacations as a family wherever his wife and daughter wanted went unheard, all his attempts at romancing cancelled. 

Even as he lined up now for the cashier, he whipped out his phone to text her. His hands had been busy typing when a brooding, dark-haired man stood behind him dressed in all black. His arms were muscled despite his age and the sagging skin on his right arm holding a tattoo of an odd skull with tentacles extending out of it was barely covered by his shirtsleeve. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Bucky,” a familiar husky voice mocked from behind him. 

Bucky immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the voice sending a deep chill down his spine, making him go rigid as he slowly turned around, the blood draining from him when he went face to face with the man who had made his life a living hell, the man who not only broken him physically but in spirit as well. Repeatedly. 

“You some errand boy now? I didn’t raise you to be like that, you know,” He continued to mock, tipping his chin to the cart with Lizzie still on it. 

“Do you know him, daddy?” She asked, holding her little wolf tighter as she watched the stranger warily. 

“Hey there, sweetie. Your daddy didn’t tell you about me? That’s weird. I raised him and your aunt Rebecca a long time ago. My name is Rumlow,” he flashed her a chilling smile, stepping closer to offer his hand. That’s when the fog in Bucky’s brain cleared. He moved with a lightning fast reflex, stepping in between them as he got in Rumlow’s face, fisting his collar harshly in one hand, 

“Don’t you dare go near her,” his dark and low voice had threatened, dripping venom. His eyes had dilated, almost turning black as he shoved him hard. Rumlow’s grating laugh echoed around them, bringing back all those awful memories he had buried deep inside his head. 

“I’ve taught you well, boy. Can’t say I’m not proud,” He clapped and actually smiled at him smugly. At this point, Lizzie had started crying making Bucky even more furious. 

“I don’t ever want to see your face again. And if you go near my daughter again, I’ll make you fucking regret it. Do you understand?” His threats went on deaf ears as Rumlow broke out into a full-fledged grin. 

“I’d love to see you try, James. You’ve grown soft,” He accused, eyeing Lizzie and the grocery he had still lined up, several heads already looking at them. 

“Lucky for you. I have a new son here,” He continued, tilting his head to the boy standing by his mostly empty cart-- save for the beer and the liquor. Bucky flicked his attention to the boy and he felt his world spin as he saw himself in him with his eyes haunted, wary and afraid. He couldn’t have been older than eight. Rumlow smirked at the look on Bucky’s face, already detecting the turmoil brewing inside him. He had succeeded. He always knew Bucky was weak, his emotions his downfall. The fear and guilt clearly written in Bucky’s eyes made Rumlow gloat as he talked to the boy, 

“What did I say, Bert, huh? You’ll only have food if you go get it yourself. Why are you still standing there?” 

The boy looked around the big grocery store, mentally taking note of the stalls and where they were currently at, memorizing it in case he got lost but still, he didn’t move. Bucky looked at Rumlow and he saw the same look he’d always had directed at him before, his taunting eyes daring the boy to go or face the consequences. 

“But I’m scared,” the boy replied, his voice small and frightened. Rumlow moved to him, bending his knees to get to his eye level. “Well then, you just won’t have to eat,” he told him in a hushed voice, pouting and mocking. 

Bucky didn’t have to hear it to know the exact words, buried memories rushing back to the surface. He heard it countless times directed at him. The boy ran to the nearest stall, his heart pounding and hoping Rumlow would still be at that same spot when he came running back. Bucky knew the feeling, it was like he was living it all over again. As much as he wanted to help, he was rooted to the spot, even Lizzie’s crying couldn’t move him. Rumlow stood back up and faced him. “You were always my favorite,” he told him proudly as he pushed his own cart away from them, no doubt to give Bert an even harder chance of finding him. 

Just before he got too far, he swiftly turned around, feigning innocence as he said, “Oh and by the way, say hi to Rebecca for me,”  His lips twisted up into a sneering smirk as he left, whistling without a care in the world. And just like that Bucky was moving, grabbing Lizzie and getting out of that store as fast as he could, hoping Rumlow would stay out of his life forever. 

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

“I’m never letting you do the groceries again!” Y/N screeched, a horrified look on her face as she stared at their fridge. After the incident with Rumlow, Bucky had brought Lizzie to the toy store, allowing her to buy all the stuffed toys and dolls she wanted instead of just the previously promised one doll. They had gone to lunch after, he kept Lizzie distracted as much as possible to forget the man she had just met. When she brought him up again, he told her it was just a friend he didn’t like very much and that she shouldn’t bring it up to her mom because it was nothing, he promised he never had to see that man again. Lizzie seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to her usual chirpy self. On their way home, they passed by another grocery store. He had mindlessly strolled the aisles and grabbed whatever he thought they needed, his head at a different place, much as it still is now.

“Bucky, we don’t need four cartons of milk, why would you even get this?” Y/N asked incredulously, shaking her head as she chuckled. 

Bucky had been staring off into space, not hearing what his wife had been saying. “Uhm, hello Bucky, you still with me?” she teased, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Oh sorry, what was that?” He asked, glancing up at her from his perch by the kitchen counter. The coffee he had brewed, now cold in his hands. 

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he waved dismissively. Y/N felt a pang of guilt. He’d been bugging her to spend more time together, planning outings and dates that she never seemed to find time for. 

“Well, I finally have the day free. Why don’t we go out, watch a movie or have a picnic? It’ll be fun,” she suggested, draping a hand over his shoulder while her chin rested on the other, her elbow propped up on the countertop to keep an eye level with him. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, babe. I promised to meet up with Thor,” he moved away from her touch, standing up. Y/N looked at him confusedly, “Okay, how about after?”

“Gotta go over some accounts with Sam, sorry love. I’ll be back before dinner,” He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek before heading out. Y/N stared after him, brows knitted, before shrugging. She’ll just get her errands around the house done then. 

After pounding the punching bag in Thor’s gym incessantly, Bucky found himself aimlessly walking around the streets, he just needed to clear his head. The little boy’s face was still etched in his mind as he opened the door to a bar. A little too early, he knew but he couldn’t shake off the nagging thought plaguing his mind. 

How could he have let that monster roam free while he had lived his life without even a glance back? 

_______________________________________________________________________

Years ago.

Bucky held Becca’s hand as they ascended the rickety steps of their new home. They had just lost their parents and were now moving into an unfamiliar house. The case worker had told them they were lucky not to be separated and that they shouldn’t worry; they were getting a good foster father who would take care of them from now on. 

“I had interviewed him myself, you see,” She told the children, beaming with pride. 

“I couldn’t have found a better one for you guys, why, this area is still very close to where you grew up in. You could still visit your old haunts,” She ruffled Becca’s hair, trying to lighten the mood while the little girl just moved farther away, hiding behind her big brother. The worn-out door which at once might have been painted pristine white but now had chippings hanging off of it suddenly opened with a creak, a man with a charming and easy nature stepped out with a warm smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You guys are here! Welcome, welcome, please come in!” He gestured humbly to his house. Becca squeezed Bucky’s hand tighter which he squeezed back in return, reassuring her. There was something about this man that wasn’t quite right. He seemed relaxed and easy-going, a smile continuously plastered on his face but there was a lethality to him that the children couldn’t seem to shake off, almost as if it was buried deep inside waiting to be unleashed. The case worker hung on his every word, giggling as they talked. She slapped his arm with the horrible looking tattoo that gave Becca a fright. The children barely moved from the sofa they were seated at after the introductions. 

“It’s usually like this. Don’t worry. They start to open up after a while,” the case worker sympathized with Brock, the man who introduced himself as their new foster father; he would treat them as his own, he had promised. 

“It’s alright. I understand. After my wife, I’ve been all alone and this, this is a blessing to me,” He told her as he turned to the children. Her hand strayed to his arm again and lingered there. 

“Oh, Brock, you are a good man. They’re great children, they won’t give you trouble.” She replied, patting his arm for reassurance. It didn’t miss Bucky how she hung off his every word. 

“But I should get going, I will check up on you in a week. Children, be good. You have my number if you need anything,” She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on her blazer.

“Wait, you’re leaving us already?” Bucky couldn’t help the whine that escaped his voice. He didn’t miss the darkness that spilled over Brock’s face for a split second before he carefully put his smile back on again. 

“I’ll be back in a week, Bucky. Don’t you worry,” the case worker smiled before she walked out the door leaving him and Becca to a stranger. 

When she was out of sight, Brock had suddenly changed his demeanor. The smile on his face had turned into a scowl when he faced them. “Alright, listen up both of you,”  he boomed, his voice cruel. “Grab your things and get on to your rooms. I don’t want to hear any noise. No running around, and if I see you making a mess. You bet your little asses, you’ll pay for it,” He stood up and left them to their bags. 

“But Mr. Brock, I’m thirsty,” Becca piped up, looking up at him timidly. The man’s grating laugh rumbled as he threw his head back, shaking it.  

“That’s Rumlow to both of you, you hear me?  Don’t make that mistake again. Now, come here,” He said, beckoning both the children to come over. Once they reached the kitchen, he pointed to the high cupboard. “You see that?” He asked Becca, dropping low to get to her eye level. When she just nodded her head, he continued, “That’s where the glasses and the plates are. If you want something in this house, you go get it yourself. I’m not your nanny,” He held Becca’s face in his hand roughly. His fingers wrapped around her cheeks tight as he held her by the chin. Bucky felt his fists clench at his sides, pushing Rumlow as far as he could with his eleven year old might.  

“Stop that!” He screamed. Their parents never hurt them. How dare this man think he could do this to his little sister? 

“Oh you wanna be the man of the house?” Rumlow jeered, shoving Bucky back making him fall to the floor. Becca’s sniffles grew louder as she tried to stop her crying, her shoulders shaking from her effort. As Bucky lay sprawled, Rumlow scooted down menacingly to him, 

“You dare push me when you were just whining like a little bitch a while ago, you wanna man up? Alright, I’ll allow it,” he taunted, pondering it for a moment before his sinister smile came back on. “Let’s see how long you’ll last protecting your little sister.” He gripped his face by the chin, fingers squeezing exceedingly tight on his cheeks before he pushed him off and he hit the floor. 

“I won’t be some parent to you that you could twist around your little fingers, no. I’ll make you into the best man you could be. I will teach you about order. And order only comes through pain,” He drilled into him like a soldier as he stretched his legs back up, his measured steps going to the fridge to fish out a beer. He took a long gulp before he continued, 

“And the sooner you learned that, the better,” 

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

Bucky sat alone at one of the benches by the field at his school, choosing solitude over the roar of the cafeteria after a particularly bad morning at home. Their foster father had woken up drunk and had haphazardly thrown things at them when Bucky accidentally burnt the eggs he had been cooking for his and Becca’s packed lunch for school. He picked on the peanut butter sandwich he prepared, not having the appetite to eat when he heard jeering voices from a group of boys and sounds of flesh being hit again and again with accompanying grunts of pain. He felt his feet move on instinct when he found them by the bleachers, a scrawny boy at the center of a group huddling over him, they were laughing as he tried to fight them off, not once being able to land a punch. The blood pumped in Bucky’s veins, a constant beating in his ears, as he grabbed the biggest of the bullies by the collar and harshly yanked him off the tiny, blonde boy now sprawled on the floor with his skinny arms covering his face. When one of the other kids tried to punch him, he deftly moved out of the way and delivered a swift blow to his stomach, making sure to spare his face so as not to get in trouble. That was how Rumlow did it, might as well use the same trick right? 

“What? Who wants to go next?” He threatened, loving the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the power he had with defending someone so helpless. The lanky blonde boy stood up beside him, blood dripping from his mouth as he held both his fists up, “I can do this all day,” he said, catching his breath but his stance clearly indicated he could barely stand up straight. Bucky just looked at him weirdly, not knowing whether to find him stupid or brave. The bullies stood against them, unsure. Bucky was the same age as them, only slightly bigger. Him and the blonde boy were still clearly outnumbered but Bucky’s eyes held a lethal strength in them, his body coiled with unleashed brutality, ready to fight. The bullies scrambled out of there as fast as they could, their feet tripping over them. 

“Yeah next time, pick on someone your own size!” he hollered before looking back at the blonde boy who looked younger than them but held himself with such maturity that it didn’t seem possible. He decided right then and there he was going to make him his new friend. Rumlow had always taught him about his belief of the natural order of the world, that strength and might always won the day and that order could only be achieved through pain. If you could inflict it on others, you were stronger, better. Weaker men were useless, had to be beaten up and put in their place. “That’s just the way of the world,” he had said. But Bucky was old and smart enough to see right through his facade. He was a bully, feeding off of people who couldn’t fight back. Bucky was going to be different, he wouldn’t bow down to his will. He just needed to protect his sister, spare her from the taint of Rumlow’s anger and prove that he wouldn't become the man Rumlow has been conditioning him to be. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked the boy standing beside him who was touching the bruise forming on his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” he replied sheepishly, ashamed he couldn’t fight for himself.

“Next time, just don’t provoke them, they aren’t worth it.” 

“But they were wrong. Bullies, I’d always stand up to them,” the blonde brushed his hair back from his forehead, determination steeling his voice. Bucky smiled, maybe he could learn a thing or two from this boy too. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Steve, what’s yours?”

“Bucky. Steve, you’re a little punk. You know that?” he said teasingly, laughing. 

Steve grinned back, “Jerk,” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Present

The light filtered into the room as the curtains were drawn back harshly causing Bucky to groan on his bed, flitting a pillow to cover his eyes. 

“Buck, come on. Get up,” Steve’s firm voice spoke through the fog in his mind. 

“Get out, Steve, I’m sleeping.” he replied, turning his back to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“How long are you going to do this? It’s been two weeks. Have you even talked to your family yet?” Steve’s judgmental voice rang out, hard and unforgiving. 

“She doesn’t even wanna see me,” he huffed, anger at himself boiling in his veins. He hasn’t seen his daughter in two weeks. Y/N’s short, cold replies to his messages were just updates on how Lizzie was doing, anything regarding Y/N, he had no idea about. He didn’t even know what sort of excuses she made up for Lizzie, how his “work trip” kept getting extended. When the hell could they keep that charade up? He was lucky enough she was letting him talk to his daughter on the phone for a few minutes every once in a while. He sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for the bottle of whiskey at the bedside table. These days he could only fall asleep when he’s had one too many to drink and even then, he’d still wake up with a headache that could only be dulled by alcohol. He barely even made it to work everyday. Sam had been good enough to cover for him, staying on neutral ground with everything that’s happening to his marriage although his eyes said otherwise, disappointment etched in them. All the while Steve had ignored him the entire time since the hospital. No amount of apologies moved him from his stance except today, when he suddenly barged into the hotel room Bucky has been renting like he owned the place. 

“Jesus, Bucky, stop that!” He swiped the bottle Bucky held between his lips, splashing amber liquid on his shirt and bed. 

“Damn it, Steve! Look what you did!  Give that back,” Bucky held his arm out, his reflexes slow as he tried to grab it from his friend. 

“Jesus Christ. You smell terrible. How much have you had to drink last night?” Steve fanned the air around him trying to rid the stench of alcohol and sweat.

“How the hell did you even get in here?” Bucky’s pissed off voice grumbled but one look at Steve’s intense stare with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, standing straight as a drill sergeant, arms crossed at his chest with his muscles bulging out of his fitted gray Under Armour shirt; he knew. The punk had intimidated his way in. No doubt leaving a poor breathless, flustered receptionist in his wake. 

“You could get that receptionist fired, you know?” He tried appealing to his best friend’s better nature.

“You wouldn’t tell. Plus, it isn’t as if she didn’t get a hefty tip. Go take a shower, Buck, you stink.” Steve didn’t budge, staring him down with a disgusted look on his face. Bucky just scoffed, 

“And then what? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N kicked me out, man. Just go home, you’re wasting your time.” 

Steve’s hardened face softened as he looked at his friend. His eyes were puffy, his skin pale as he scratched his wildly unkempt beard, his greasy hair sticking out on one side. What the hell had happened to Bucky? How had it gone so bad for his friend in a matter of days? He suddenly moved out of instinct, collecting clothes strewn everywhere and packed them into the suitcase at the corner of the room. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky exhaled loudly. It was too early for this. Where the hell was his drink? 

“Get your ass moving, Bucky. You’re staying at my place,”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #steve rogers #betrayal #marvel fic #marvel x you

[jjunberry]

“I will always love you”

Kim Sunwoo x Reader request for @khimey

warnings: angst

It started off with the small things you use to love. The small things that happened use to make your heart swell with love. Now they didn’t bring any joy. The small things simply became actions you pay no attention to anymore.

Then it started to be the dates. You became canceling them saying you had to work. Sunwoo never really thought anything of that since he was busy with his schedules. His “That’s okay babe, we can hang out tomorrow!” always made your heart ache. You hated this but you didn’t want his heart breaking, but keeping how you were feeling secret was breaking yours.It all became clear whenever Sunwoo kissed your cheek and said he’d see you later after practice. He did that before he left every day.

The tv was playing a random show as you blankly stared at it. Your mind was all over the place and your heart was being torn in two different directions. So lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear the door open or Sunwoo sit next to you.

“ Y/n? Hey.” Your focus shifted towards Sunwoo who was already looking at you with worried eyes. “ Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.” Sunwoo frowned. “ Are you feeling okay? I called your name five times.�� You smiled at him, “ Yeah, I’m fine just tired.” He knew when you lied but for some reason he couldn’t pick up on you lying about your feelings everyday.

“A few of us are going for barbecue do you want to come?” Sunwoo smiled at you. “ Yeah that sounds fun.” Sunwoo got excited and pulled you out of your covers. “ Let’s get ready.”

The barbecue place was the same one Sunwoo took you too on your first date. Your first date led to 4 years together. All those years spent with Sunwoo were some of the happiest years of your life. Something has changed though. You are the same person you were in those years with Sunwoo and it was scaring you.

Sunwoo led you to a big table where a few of his members were already waiting for us. They greeted each other happily. “ Long time no see Y/n.” It was Kevin. You smiled and said hello to everyone then your eyes went to the menu. “ Babe what are you doing? You never look at that anymore not after our first date.” He was grabbed the menu from you knowing you were going to order the same thing you always do.

The same it’s always the same. Nothing new.

“ I want something else.” Sunwoo thought something else was your order, your something else was in life...in this relationship. Sunwoo smiled. “ We can get our normal orders and something else to try.” All you could do was nod.

When you looked up you locked eyes with Sangyeon. He motioned towards your phone. When you looked there was a message from him. ‘Meet me outside. Say you’re going to get air.’

Sangyeon cleared his throat. The attention shifted to him. “I’m headed to the restroom.” He got up and left the table. A little after you got up to silently leave the table. A hand caught your wrist you followed it to look Sunwoo in the eyes. “ Hey where you off too?” He was concerned.

“ Just to get some air.” He nodded and watched you exit the restaurant. Sangyeon was leaning against the wall on the side of the building. “ Why are we out here?” Sangyeon turned towards you. “ What’s been going on? Something has changed.” Damn him for being so observant. “ I-“ “ Sunwoo hasn’t changed and he can see that you have changed, he came to me about it.”

Your eyes went wide. “W-What did he say?” Sangyeon turned towards you. “ He thinks you’re cheating on him.” You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped. “ So i’m here to ask you, since Sunwoo is to afraid of the truth to ask. Are you cheating on him?”

Your heart was at your feet. “ No I would never why does he think that?” Sangyeon nodded. “You never want to go out and do anything with him anymore, he said you don’t want anything to do with skinship, and that even when you’re with him you’re not there.”

Sunwoo said all of this to sangyeon? “ I didn’t realize that he took notice, he never seemed any different.” Sangyeon put his hands on your shoulders making you look at him. “ Do you love Sunwoo?” You shrugged his hands off your shoulders. “ Of course I do.” He nodded.

“ Are you in love with him though?” You choked on your answer as the tears you didn’t know you want holding in came out. Sangyeon sighed. “ You need to tell him. After four years together he deserves to know the truth instead of you letting him pretend everything is okay.”

All you could do was nod. Sangyeon went back inside. You couldn’t bring yourself to go in yet. Before you knew it Sunwoo was coming out. “ Hey babe, I ordered your usual. Are you okay?” He came towards you and there was no stopping him from seeing your tear stained cheeks.

“Can we go home?” Your voice shook. Sunwoo just nodded taking your hand in his and leading you towards the car. He would send a text to the boys later.

The apartment the two of you shared was deadly silent when you got home. Just like the car ride to and from the barbecue place. Sunwoo’s leg was bouncing and he kept glancing at and going to speak but words wouldn’t come out.

“ Y/n what’s wrong? Please talk to me.” His voice was so small. It made your heart even more knowing you had to tell him. With a long sigh you turned towards him.

“ I have to tell you something, something that’s been eating away at me for awhile now.” Sunwoo nodded letting you know to continue talking. “ I’m not sure how to say this, honestly I debated for months on whether or not to even tell you.”

Sunwoo looked at you remaining quiet. “ This is hurting me because I know it’s going to hurt you and I never want to hurt you.” Tears where building up in both of your eyes. “ Please just tell me.” He sounded defeated almost.

“ Sunwoo I-I’ve fallen out of love with you.” That was when the tears building in your waterlines fell and continued to fall as you seen Sunwoo crying as well. “ Y-You don’t love me anymore?” You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him.

“ Whatever it is I did to make you f-feel this way p-please tell me so I can fix it.” He was tripping over his words and crying. Sunwoo felt this his entire world was just ripped away from him.

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “Sunwoo it’s going to be okay.” “ Don’t tell me that.” He stood up. “ DON’T TELL ME IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY. HOW CAN IT BE WHEN YOU DON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE.”

You cried out standing up and wrapping your arms around him. He didn’t hug you back. “Sunwoo listen to me.” He looked down at you. “ I never said i didn’t love you anymore, I said i fell out of love with you.” Sunwoo shrugged out of your hold. “ HOW IS THAT ANY BETTER?”

“ Sunwoo please sit so we can talk about this.” You sat and looked at him. He sighed loudly and sat next to you. “ How long ?” You didn’t say anything.“ I asked you how long.” His voice rose. “ A few months now.” He scoffed. “ Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “ I was afraid of hurting you.”

“ Keeping it from me this long hurts even more. You’ve been lying about your feelings for me for months.” Sunwoo wasn’t looking at you, he couldn’t. “ What does this mean for us Y/n?” You both knew what was coming. Neither of you wanted this. After four years you didn’t want this at all.

“Sunwoo I think it’s best that we end this.” It was quiet after that. Time seemed to freeze. The both of you unmoving. Sunwoo stood up suddenly turning to face you. “ I’ll pick up my things soon.” You stood up as well.

He walked towards the door. “ Sunwoo wait.” He turned towards you. “ I don’t want to loose you forever.” Sunwoo sighed before kissing your head. “I will always love you.” You said watching Sunwoo shut the door behind him.

“I’ll always love you too.” Sunwoo said to himself before walking away.

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hope you enjoyed!! -Echo ❤️

#kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo imagines #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz

[terra-sprout-imagines]

How Daichi and  Suga would make up a missed date to their S/O because of Volleyball Part 1

Written By: Terra

Request: How would Suga, Daichi, Tanaka and Noya make it up to their S/O after having to miss a date for volleyball related thing???

Author’s Note: These headcanons, along with the last ones, make me look like more of a Daichi simp than I actually am lol. Originally this was all going to be one post, but since Daichi’s are so long I decided to make it two and two so you’re not scrolling for thirty years to get to the end. Enjoy!

Warnings: None but Daichi’s takes place in part 1 of season 4 and Suga’s takes place in season 2 c:

Part 2: Tanaka and Nishinoya (coming soon!)

Sawamura Daichi

Like I said in the headcanons where their S/O surprises them at a game, I genuinely think Daichi is one of the most mature boyfriends out of the Karasuno team

And as a result, you would have to be pretty mature as well because I just don’t really see him as the type of guy to get into a relationship with someone that he kind of has to “parent” for lack of a better term

Anyway, that’s not to say that he wouldn’t feel bad about having to miss a date because of volleyball, but he definitely wouldn’t throw himself into a panic about it and go super over the top trying to make it up to you.

So the date in question for this scenario, was just a simple dinner date at one of your favorite restaurants

Daichi had been super busy as of late after Karasuno had won the Inter-High Preliminaries with preparation for Spring Nationals

Of course you didn’t complain once about it

You knew how badly Daichi had always wanted to go to Nationals, and now that they finally realized that dream you had been nothing but completely supportive

Though Daichi made sure to try and support you and your hobbies as much as his schedule would allow, so things never felt one-sided for you and you appreciated the effort he put in

Didn’t have time to go out on as many dates as you used to? No problem, you’d just come to their practice and assist Kiyoko and Yachi where you could so you could still see your boyfriend

Tonight was supposed to be a day where practice would end early enough that you and Daichi could justify getting a late dinner in town

A night where the two of you could finally have some time together away from volleyball and the team

Not that you had anything against them, but you both just wanted to be able to do mushy couple things without Suga and the second years making kissy faces and wiggling their eyebrows.

But as the minutes passed and you still sat alone at the table, your dreams of spending a night together with Daichi seemed to slip further and further away.

You jumped as you felt your phone vibrate against the table, your heart rate speeding up a little as you read Daichi’s contact appear across the screen

Though you were quick to feel the slightest twinge of disappointment as you read the message

‘I’m sorry love, but I don’t think I’m going to make it to dinner in time. Coach Ukai had us try a new technique for Nationals and it took the team longer than anticipated to get it down. We only just finished and we still have to clean the gym and get changed.’

You typed out a quick reply and set your phone down with a small sigh.

The restaurant was starting to wind down for the night, and you knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before you would have to leave since they would need to close up for the night.

Even though Daichi couldn’t be there for dinner, that didn’t mean the night had to go completely out the window.

You flagged your waiter down and placed an order to go, knowing Daichi well enough by now that you were comfortable with ordering in his place.

You paid for the bill as you waited for your food to arrive, and then made your way home, pulling out your phone to send another message to your boyfriend

‘After you get home and get showered, come to my place. Just because we couldn’t do dinner doesn’t mean we can’t still at least see each other. I know my mom won’t mind if you spend the night.’

Just as you reached your front door, your phone vibrated again with a reply

‘I actually had a similar idea. If you’re okay with it, would you mind coming to my place instead in about half an hour? I have to get a few things ready.’

You replied with a quick ‘of course ♥️’ and got to work packing an overnight bag, letting your mom know about your change of plans.

Your parents adored Daichi, and trusted the two of you, so getting permission to spend the night was hardly ever an issue.

Before you left, you grabbed the takeout from the fridge and started the five-minute walk to your boyfriend’s place.

When he opened the door, he was quick to pull you into a hug, placing a tender kiss first on your forehead and then your lips.

“I’m sorry about tonight.” You could feel his lips move against yours as he spoke

“Don’t be. You can’t help it if practice runs longer than anticipated. Besides,” You held up the bag of takeout with a smile, “I still brought dinner for us.”

You saw his eyes widen a fraction before he burst out into laughter.

At your confused expression, he pulled you inside.

He had completely transformed the living room of his house. Strings of lights were hung up around the walls, a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the television where the menu of your favorite movie played across the screen. On the table in front of all of that, Daichi had set up a meal for the two of you, and your lips cracked into a smile when you saw that the dishes were exactly the same as what you carried in your bag

“I called my mom and asked her to pick it up for me on my way back from practice.” His hand was rubbing the back of his neck and his cheeks were adorned with a red flush. “I guess we had the same thought.”

You broke out into a smile and turned to face your boyfriend, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy.

You really loved this man. You pressed a kiss to his lips, murmuring an “I love you” as you went to place the takeout you brought into the fridge.

“It’ll be lunch for tomorrow” You told him as he looked back at you.

He simply nodded and the two of you settled in the nest of blankets in the living room as Daichi hit the play button for the movie.

You were curled up into his side as the two of you ate.

Of course, that made it harder for Daichi, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Even less so when you started feeding him bites of his food as compensation for hogging one of his arms to yourself.

Later that night when the two of you settled into bed, he pressed a kiss to your temple as he pulled you in close.

“I’m sorry we had to change our date plans because of practice again.”

You brought one of your hands up to cup his face. “Daichi, it’s okay. I knew things like this would happen sometimes when we got together. You still go out of your way to make time for me, so a few missed dates are just water under the bridge.”

You let out a small yawn and placed your head on his chest. “Besides, dinner and a movie with you at home was a way better date than just eating out somewhere. I wouldn’t care if you missed a hundred more dates if it meant we got to do something like that instead.”

You felt his chest shake beneath your head as he chuckled. “I’d never intentionally skip out on spending time with you, but I’ll make sure to keep this date in mind for next time.”

Sugawara Koushi

He would feel pretty horrible about it.

Like he wouldn’t be over the top dramatic about it, but I do think he would have a lot of guilt over it and definitely be extra clingy for at least a week afterwards.

Like Daichi, I feel like Suga would understand that missing dates would probably be a thing because of him playing volleyball

And he would make sure that whoever he got into a relationship with understood that as well and would be able to be mature about it.

Despite that though, I still think Suga would bend over backwards to try and prevent volleyball from making him miss dates with you as much as possible

But when inevitably it happens, he would still feel bad about it, even though you say you’re not upset

Be prepared for a very soft and apologetic Suga as a result

Even though I said Suga wouldn’t be super dramatic about missing a date, he probably kind of was the first time he had to miss one

But after you were able to reaffirm that things were okay, he’d feel a lot more secure in your relationship and so he wouldn’t be as bad the next time it happens

The date in question for this instance, was supposed to be a surprise.

All Suga had told you, was that he would pick you up after he got home and showered after practice, and that you should expect to be out late so to dress comfortably

So, as the usual time for practice to end rolled around, you had gotten yourself ready

You didn’t know if Suga had planned for you to go out anywhere special, so you made sure that you looked nice enough if that was the case, but were still comfortable enough that your outfit wouldn’t be bugging you as the hours passed by

You ended up seated near your front door, scrolling through your phone as you waited for a call or text from your boyfriend.

Twenty minutes passed, then forty, an hour, two hours…

By the first hour with no message, you already had a pretty good idea that practice had gone on longer than usual, no big deal.

So by the second hour mark you had already changed into pajamas and set yourself up on your bed to scroll through social media, also no big deal.

You knew that the team all had to leave their phones and other belongings in the club room while they practiced, so Suga had no way of contacting you while the coach still had them busy in the gym.

He would call as soon as he had access to his phone, of that you had absolutely no doubt.

You still felt a slight twinge of disappointment that your date had been effectively cancelled, because who wouldn’t want to spend time with their significant other?

But you knew that volleyball was important to him, and you knew the effort Suga put in to making sure that you didn’t feel neglected as a result of his sport

So you just made yourself comfortable in your bed, and waited for Suga to get out of practice.

You had also sent a text to your parents, preemptively asking if he could spend the night, you knew he would want to spend as much time at your side as he could for the next few days.

Of course, your parents had no issues with him doing so. Suga had quickly managed to win both of your parents over when you first brought him over for dinner, and often the two of you would spend nights together at each other’s houses.

Your parents practically considered him their son in law already.

Several hours after the normal time for practice to end, you looked up from your laptop as you heard the repeated buzzing sound of your phone on your nightstand

You felt a small smile cross your features as you saw Suga’s contact light up across your display.

You hit the answer button and brought the phone to your ear. Before you could even say a word, Suga was already speaking.

“I’m so sorry about tonight, honey. The coach wanted to try out some new formations for the preliminaries, so he had us playing practice matches against each other.” He sounded out of breath, and you think you could hear his feet hitting the pavement in the background like he was running.

“It’s okay Koushi, you can’t help it if practice runs late. The preliminaries are just a few weeks away, right? I don’t blame your coach for wanting to make sure you guys have everything you need to make it to Nationals.”

There was a slight pause before he replied. “I really don’t deserve you, you know. I love you so much.”

“Of course you deserve me, don’t be silly. I love you too.” You took a moment to make sure you shut your laptop off before you put it off to the side. “I assume you’ll be on your way here soon?”

Suga let out a breathless laugh, “Actually, I’m already outside your door.”

“What?” You quickly sat up and made your way to your front door, you eyes widening when you saw Suga on the other side.

He was holding a small bouquet of roses and a bag of what looked to be your favorite snacks. His chest rose and fell with panted breath and his eyes were apologetic as he held out the bouquet for you to take. “Surprise?”

You let him pull you into a hug and a kiss, but you wrinkled your nose after a moment, pulling away from him. “Koushi, did you run all the way here from practice?”

“Mhm. I only stopped to pick these up for you.” He gestured to the flowers and snacks that he had brought with him.

“Koushi, you know I love you, and you really didn’t have to get me these things, but I appreciate them nonetheless. And I’m saying this next part because I love you so much, but please go take a shower before you kiss me again.”

He gave you an exaggerated pout “But I want to show you my love.”

You shook your head, a smirk on your lips, “I’m sorry but when I kiss you, I don’t want to also be kissing your ten layers of sweat. I’ll still be here when you’re done and then you can kiss and cuddle me all you want.”

He chuckled, “Mm, I’ll hold you to that then.” He placed a quick kiss to your forehead before heading into the hallway towards your bathroom.

The rest of the night was spent watching movies in your room on your bed, Suga lying behind you as the big spoon.

His right arm was wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing light patterns against your stomach while his left arm was underneath your head.

His head rested against your own, occasionally pressing light kisses to your head, neck, or shoulder.

A content smile made itself at home on your face as you brought your arm down to interlace your fingers with his.

The two of you fell asleep that way, and Suga spent all of the following day doting on you.

The next night, he drove you out to an outlook spot in the mountains for a picnic and some stargazing after the sun had set.

His cheeks were tinged red as he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“I wanted to do take you here last night but…”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, cupping the side of his face. You gave him a playful wink, “This was more than worth the wait.”

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[let-it-raines]

Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

🍁 found on ao3 | here | 🍁 

-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.  

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.  

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.  

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick…oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too) #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 2

Day 2 - There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate. 

Pairing(s): Romantic RoSleep (Roman x Remy/Sleep), background Analogical

TWs: Mild Swearing from Remy __

“No, no, no, you move my 3 O’clock to 4, my 4 O’clock to 5, then cancel it. I don’t even want to have to look at that scumbag from accounting today, babes.”

Remy kept taking on his bluetooth headset as he approached the Starbucks he’d grown so accustomed to. Normally just inhaling the scent of ground coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon spice would be enough to flood his stressed cranium with serotonin. But that wasn’t going to cut it today. 

Today he was on a mission; his soulmate timer had stopped during his visit here a week ago, and he was determined to find out who it’d stopped for. With his schedule cleared as much as possible, Remy walked into the Starbucks in his business attire, having only bothered to throw on his leather jacket when he’d left the office. Not that his outfit was unplanned, he had made a point of wearing the same white button up shirt, black waistcoat, and matching black slim cut pants he’d been wearing when he first noticed the timer had stopped. If not for making sure his soulmate recognised him, then simply because he looked damn good.

It was a gamble, assuming his soulmate would be there today, but by now he was desperate. Remy knew the rules; after exactly a week was up, his timer would disappear for good and he’d never know who his soulmate was. And he wasn’t about to let that shit fly. No sirree. 

“Now, which one of you is it?”, Remy mumbled under his breath. As he stood just about to open the door and leave, Remy had memorised the men who were present in the cafe that fateful day; eight potential men, two eliminated visually over the first two days when he noted their timers were still going. Another three all eliminated themselves the days following as they revealed themselves to be straight, in a relationship, and very straight, in that order. Remy sighed impatiently as he perused the last three men he’d narrowed things down to.

The first was a short, burly man with chestnut brown hair that tickled his button nose while he leant over to pet the outrageously cute border collie sat by his chair. His cheeks were dusted with freckles that drew attention to his mossy green eyes and sunkissed skin. The blue polo shirt and tan shorts he wore clashed with the fact he clearly worked hard labour in the outdoors. Remy guessed he worked with plants going by his scuffed and dirty boots, and the mud on his pupper’s paws. Remy dubbed him, unsurprisingly, Dog Guy.

The second, Space Cadet, was a far departure from Dog guy; his auburn hair and pale skin spoke of celtic origins while his numerous books concerning the far reaches of the universe spoke of the cosmos. Of a man who harboured an intense scientific curiosity as deep as his sapphire eyes. His black shirt hidden under a dark blue flannel shirt showed the insignia of the local museum, which Remy found fitting. In the nicest way possible, Space Cadet looked like he belonged there with his pristine glasses and tidy upkeep that bordered on neurotic.

And the third man, Anxiety Magnet, was once more a drastic change from the other two. Dark skin melted into an all black outfit consisting of a black hoodie sporting custom purple patches - perhaps he made it himself, Remy couldn’t be sure - alongside black ripped skinny jeans. His purple sneakers matched his nailpolish and eyeshadow framing heterochromic brown and green eyes. Every time Remy would scope out the young man, he’d always be anxiously biting his nails, fidgeting with his napkins, or doodling in the notebooks (Remy noted three different ones at least) he brought with him.

Remy was in for a loooong ride but hopefully today he’d finally figure out which of these lucky doofuses is his soulmate.

He walked over to the counter to order his usual drink, giving the familiar barista a nod as the man recognised him,

“Afternoon, Remy,”, the barista smiled, “The usual for our beloved fairy godmother?”

Remy rolled his eyes fondly, “Roman, babes, kindly shut up.”

Roman laughed, “Come now, wouldn’t want you turning into the Evil Queen, would we?”

“Joke’s on you, babes, I like the Evil Queen.”

Roman feigned a dramatic gasp, only returning to making Remy’s usual once he’d secured a smile from the stressed office worker. Remy twirled his lanyard in his hands; Remy Merryweather. Of all names to be cursed with around a Disney fan like the barista, it HAD to be one of the uncool ones. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Roman hadn’t insisted on labelling his drinks with “Flora”, “Fauna”, and “Aurora” ever since. Remy didn’t dwell too long on the kindly barista though, he was a man on a mission. 

Turning his attention to his first choice, Space Cadet, Remy watched him from the table he sat at; no wedding ring, his wrist was covered from sight, and he was most certainly gay going by the pride patches sewn into the backpack under his table. Perfect, he could just be the one.

As if on cue, Space Cadet shifted his watch and frowned. Perhaps he’d get lucky-

Ah, he’s leaving. Shit. Well, there was nothing else for it, Remy carefully nudged the trashcan by his seat as the man walked past, tripping him. The man let out a yelp and hit the floor. Remy was just getting up to help him when Anxiety Magnet came hurrying over out of the blue, 

“You alright?! That looked painful....”

What the fuck. Remy was about to speak up when Space Cadet locked eyes with Anxiety Magnet and for a moment the two were silent as the latter checked his timer, prompting the former to do the same. 

Son of a bitch.

Space Cadet sat up and reached a hand out to Anxiety Magnet, revealing that his timer had just stopped.

“Logan Baird, charmed to meet you, dear soulmate.”, he smiled warmly at the anxious man who helped him to his feet.

“Likewise,”,the anxious man responded, “Virgil Peyton. Nice to know my soulmate’s so handsome.”

Ugh. Remy watched as Space Cadet and Anxiety Magnet - or Logan and Virgil as he was now painfully aware - gathered up the fallen books and left together to go be happy and in love. While Remy could only watch as they did so. 

Fantastic. Well, at least he knew who his soulmate must be now. Who knew Dog Guy would be the top dog? Admittedly, Dog Guy was Remy’s last choice in a partner, but hey, after all the trouble he went to, he wasn’t about to argue with fate. Once Roman brought him his order - an iced, Ristretto, ten shot venti, with five pumps of vanilla, seven pumps of caramel, four packs of Splenda, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top with “Prince Phillip” written on the cup this time - Remy made his way over to the lucky fellow.

“Excuse me, mind if I sit here?”, Remy asked as he approached the Dog Guy. 

The man smiled warmly, “Oh, not at all, kiddo! Hope you don’t mind my dog or things might get ruff!“. The joke made Remy want to drive his head into the ground at mach speeds, but if they were soulmates, he’d learn to love it. Hopefully. Maybe.

“Like, no worries babes, your dog is totes cute.”, Remy noted the man’s cheerful smile. He sat down and offered his name, “I’m Remy, what about you?”.

“Ah, how rude of me! I’m Patton Fairchild! And this is Foster!”, he gestured to the collie, “It’s nice to meet you Remy!”. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad of a choice after all; he's bubbly, friendly, gentle, and Remy truly couldn’t deny the sexy lumberjack appeal.

“Likewise, though I hope I’m not intruding on anything here. Like, I don’t wanna take up your time if you’re here on a date or-”

“Goodness no, I’m not on a date! Don’t you worry, you’re not interrupting anything!”, he assured Remy.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of you and your soulmate, sweetie.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,”, Patton stated, sending Remy’s hopes soaring before they shattered on the marble floor, “I don’t have one. I mean, I love love and all that, but I never much felt the lure of it myself!”

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Remy’s face fell. None of them were his soulmate. He stayed to talk to Dog Guy- Patton for a while so as not to make the poor guy feel awkward, then watched him leave. Another failure with not enough time left to find his soulmate. Remy sat alone, sipping the dregs of his order. He ignored the constant texts from the office as he stayed til near closing time. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not paid attention when his timer hit zero? Maybe he deserved this; to be miserable and alone for his negligence. His soulmate probably wasn’t even missing him either. Or maybe they were and now they couldn’t find him-

“Mind if I sit here?”

Remy rolled his head towards Roman, taking in the sweet sympathy pouring from his rather lovely smile. In his hand he held a to-go cup and his work apron was replaced with a red and white letterman jacket. Great, now he was keeping the charming barista from going home. But when had Remy ever cared about not being selfish?

“Sure, take a fuckin’ seat, babes.“, he groaned, no longer caring about keeping up the facade of being more put together than he really was. Roman sat down with a concerned gaze and slowly slid the drink over to Remy.

“It’s green tea. It’s a little less extravagant than your usual tastes, but it’s good for relieving stress..”

Roman encouragingly tapped the cup lid, smiling contagiously, “And something tells me the Evil Queen has some tension she needs to release.”

Remy gave a slightly bitter laugh as he looked up from playing eye-contact-chicken with the table and noted the green tea read “Maleficent”. God, this guy’s such a dork.

“It’s more than just some tension, sweetie,”, Remy began, inhaling sharply as he sat up, “I’ve just realised I’m never going to find my soulmate. I was stupid. I wasn’t thinking and the moment I looked away, I missed him.”. The half-snort he gave came out so much more painful than intended, “I let my timer hit zero, babes, and now it’s almost been a full week. My last three chances just walked out the goddamn door. Two of them as fucking soulmates, Roman! How unfair is that?-”

Roman’s expression gave him pause. It wasn’t the sympathetic expression from before, more like he was seeing Remy for the first time. Like he’d made a cosmic realisation that was about to change his life.

“Your timer… when did yours stop exactly?”, he asked. The wording gave Remy pause as he realised. 

He hadn’t accounted for Roman. How could he have been so blind? Perhaps he couldn’t believe the charming barista could be the one. Perhaps he thought the man who smiled genuinely at him every day while he whittled down potential soulmates and greeted him with only the kindest of regards was too good for someone like him.

“It… stopped on Wednesday-”

“Around 2:15 pm? During the lunchtime rush?!”, Roman cut in excitedly. Remy was aghast as Roman pulled back the wrist of his letterman and revealed a stopped timer about as faded as Remy’s. With no hesitation, anticipation growing, Roman gently reached for Remy’s hand, which the latter offered enthusiastically. To their mutual delight, their timers disappeared, proving that they were indeed soulmates.

Both were stunned, Roman’s expression wildly happy, his brown eyes sparkling with equal elation and adoration. As Remy took in his gorgeous tanned skin, beautiful mocha hair, and that wonderful chiseled face he had the growing urge to caress and litter with kisses, all he could say in the moment was,

“Does this mean you’ll finally spell my fucking name right?”

--

This one was so much fun to write! I think this is the one piece of writing where I mostly nailed Remy’s character, so I hope this one does well TTvTT @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #roman sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #rosleep #soulmate september #coffee shop au #basically #fanfics #my fics #sleepingbeauty #thats the other name for the ship right #otherwise i put all the sleeping beauty references in there for nothing #anyway i really like this one ehe

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 40 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters here on AQ or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

Thank you so so much to @saiphl and @sillylittlecandycane for beta-reading!!

Chapter Summary: Courtney does her best to support Adore’s new relationship, even as Tati comes to a disappointing realization.

Chapter 40: Don’t Cry Out Loud

“Omigod, your dorm room is so cute!” Courtney squealed, and Roy hid a smile, settling down on the bed. Of course Courtney would find the stark white, institutional shared room which was barely bigger than a prison cell just adorable.

He lounged on the bed, wordlessly stretching his arms out, grin deepening when she immediately climbed up to settle into his embrace, sighing softly. He kissed her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her, wondering why it felt like a million years had passed since they last saw each other. He wanted to go back home for their anniversary a few weeks ago, but midterms had been kicking his ass and he just couldn’t take the time away. Courtney seemed fine about it, even telling him not to worry when he’d promised to make it up to her, but he was aware that she might be harboring some resentment.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured. “I’m so, so sorry I had to cancel the last-”

She silenced him with a kiss, passionate and deep, her fingers digging into his shoulders telling him that all was forgiven, that she still loved him, that they were good.

“I missed you, too…” Her arms tightened around him. “Anyway, Happy Belated Anniversary…”

“Two years,” he said, kissing her lightly. “It’s been pretty good, huh?”

“The best.”

It was a few minutes before he felt any need to speak again, content to hold her close, occasionally seeking out her lips for soft, messy kisses. He tried to keep himself from getting too excited, since he was aware that his roommate could easily burst in at any moment. (Joe had promised to sleep elsewhere, but it was only 5 pm, so he didn’t think that deal had begun just yet.)

Soon though, Courtney had rolled over on top of him, body warm and pliant, kisses growing more and more heated. When her hands drifted down to his fly, tugging at the button, he regretfully stopped her, breathing hard.

“We should, uh...wait a little bit. Just until I know we can have some real privacy.”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting up, running a hand through her hair. She tossed him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assured her, kissing her hand. “I’m just trying to avoid a potentially embarrassing situation.”

“Mmhmm…”

As he sat up, leaning against the wall, she moved towards him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“So...I’ve told you all about my classes and stuff. What’s new back home? Anything interesting?”

“Uhh...I dunno. Murial’s still a pain in the ass, my mom has a new boyfriend, same old shit.”

Roy laughed. “Is he as weird as the last one?”

“Thankfully no. But...well, he’s almost suspiciously normal.”

“Keep your door locked at night,” Roy joked.

“Yuck.” Courtney hit him on the arm, shaking her head.

“How are the neighborhood kids? I haven’t talked to Bob in weeks, is he good?”

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t seen him that much outside of class. I’ve been hanging out with Adore’s friends most of the time.”

“Oh yeah? Is Violet behaving?” He raised a curious eyebrow at her.

“Shockingly, yes. And Adore has a new girlfriend,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Oh...” Roy paused, unsure how he was supposed to react to this news. Somehow, he didn’t think that jubilation was called for. “Anyone I know?”

“No, she’s a new girl. Tatianna. She’s cool, and like...so pretty.”

“Well...good for Adore.”

“Yeah, it’s really good!” Courtney said. “They have so much in common. Tati plays bass, and they’re into the same music, and like...they fit really well together, you know?”

“Uh huh.” An unsettled feeling began to creep into Roy’s chest. That old, nagging feeling that he could never get rid of when it came to Courtney and her best friend.

“I’m like, so, so happy for her,” Courtney continued. “It’s been awhile since she’s dated anyone, and like...it’s really great to see her happy. I really think that this one will last. At least, I hope. It’s only been a few weeks, I guess. Less than a month. Right now they’re all giddy, in that like, honeymoon stage. You know? It’s really cute.”

“So...I mean, are you two still hanging out, or is she kinda occupied?” Roy asked slowly. He knew how much Courtney had suffered last year, how miserable she’d been without Adore, and he had no desire for her to relive that.

“We’re hanging out a lot! Yeah, it’s funny, it’s kind of been a lot of the three of us. Which is cool because I’m getting to know Tati too. I think you’d like her, she’s really sweet and funny and had this kind of sarcasm that catches you totally off guard. She’s great.”

“Um...yeah, great.”

Roy cleared his throat, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, suddenly itching for a change of topic, a change of scenery. He reached out a hand to Courtney.

“Do you wanna go for a walk? I can show you the campus and then we can come back and change for dinner. I think you’re gonna really like the restaurant I found.”

“Sounds perfect,” Courtney beamed at him with that smile, the one that never failed to melt his heart, twist up his insides, make him believe, if only for a second, that life was truly good. He grinned back, dimples deep in his cheeks, pulling her in for a tight embrace.

He was able to convince himself, that night, that everything was fine. The distance he felt was just a normal part of living apart. That this awkward year was just a necessary thing for them to get through before they could be together for real, like adults.

Roy wasn’t naive, he knew that people grew apart and that nothing was guaranteed--but there wasn’t a single version of his future that he could fathom without her in it. So the next day as they said goodbye, once again, the promise of being reunited soon over Thanksgiving kept it from being too bittersweet. Courtney certainly seemed unconcerned, hugging him tightly and whispering “I love you” into his neck.

He breathed her in once more, the feel of her post-shower hair damp against his cheek. He wished that she could stay longer, but she had what was sure to be a long drive ahead of her, and he had a paper to write.

“Call me when you get home…”

“I will.” She smiled up at him, began to unwind her arms from his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t look so sad. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Before she got too far away, though, Roy pulled her back one last time, holding her against his chest again, unwilling to let go just yet. “Five more seconds…”

Courtney giggled, hugging him back, whispering, “Take as many as you need…”

-

Adore was cute. She was really cute. And fun, and chill, and everything Tati felt like she needed after the trauma of a cross-country move.

There was just one problem. Well, maybe not a problem. A concern. Something that, at first she’d brushed off as paranoia, but the more she got to know Adore and her friends, the more it bugged her. It didn’t seem to matter that they’d been best friends for years, or that Courtney had a boyfriend (albeit one whom Tati had never seen in the flesh). Something about it was just...uncomfortable.

Tonight though, she decided to put it out of her mind. At Adore’s suggestion, they were having a chill movie night. They’d just received a bountiful order from the delivery guy--two stuffed-crust pizzas, wings, garlic knots, and whatever else they felt compelled to order after smoking in the tree house.

Tati set all the food out on the coffee table while Adore shuffled through her DVD collection.

“I promise, you’re gonna love it,” Adore said, punctuating her statement with a wink in Tati’s direction.

“I trust your taste,” Tati said, settling onto the sofa with a sigh.

Adore found the DVD she wanted and began to load it in when a familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

“Hi guys! What’s up?”

Courtney.

Tati felt bad, for thinking of her as a problem. She was a perfectly nice girl, friendly and fun and charming--but she was also always there. It seemed like she and Adore barely ever spent time together without Courtney being involved in some way. And it wouldn’t bother Tati so much, except that there was this weird energy between them, something all their other friends had just decided to ignore, apparently.

Or maybe Tati was just paranoid, overly judgmental? She bit her lip, guilt once again washing over her, that she covered with a friendly wave and a bright, “Hey Court!”

Adore looked up, slightly puzzled.

“Hi babe...I thought you were doing your whole...anniversary extravaganza thing with Roy.”

“Oh yeah, I was! It was so amazing, he’d planned this perfect romantic night, totally overboard just like always, and then brunch today.” Courtney giggled, and Tati didn’t miss the wistful expression that flickered across Adore’s face. “Anyway, I just got back, traffic was a nightmare, it took me 4 hours, blah blah blah. What are you guys up to?”

“Movie night.”

“Awesome, what are you watching?”

“Tati’s never seen The Craft. So..”

“Omigod, really?” Courtney flopped down onto the sofa. “You’re gonna love it, it’s so good. What kind of pizza is this?”

“Uhh, we have one pepperoni, and one mushroom…” Adore caught Tati’s eye, responding to the incredulous look on her face with an apologetic little shrug, pressing play on the DVD player and standing up to join them on the sofa. So, it seemed pretty clear that she wasn’t going to tell Courtney that this was a date night.

“Ughh, I love you! Thanks for getting one without meat.”

“Thank Tati, I hate mushrooms,” Adore laughed, sitting down between them.

“Tati, I love you. You’re beautiful.” Courtney leaned over Adore to blow a kiss at Tati, who caught it half-heartedly.

Tati couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Her whole attention was focused on Courtney and Adore, and their every giggly, weirdly flirtatious interaction.

She was definitely, definitely not being paranoid. As she inched herself further and further away, scrunching against the arm of the sofa, Courtney seemed to be doing the opposite. It began with her feet in Adore’s lap, then shifted to a head on her shoulder, then finally she settled into her most comfortable position: curled up with her head resting on the pillow in Adore’s lap.

Adore didn’t seem to mind one bit, either, or notice that anything was amiss. She and Courtney spent the whole movie giggling and reciting their favorite lines along with the characters, and eventually, her fingers began to drift absentmindedly through Courtney’s blonde hair.

After what felt like seven excruciating hours, the credits finally began to roll.

Courtney sat up, bright-eyed, stretching.

“God that movie is so good!” she said, then added in a deep voice, “You girls watch out for those weirdos.”

Adore laughed uproariously, replying with, “We are the weirdos, mister!”

“So uh...I guess you guys probably like...want some alone time now, huh?” Courtney asked.

It took all of Tati’s self control not to roll her eyes. But the truth was, she couldn’t even be annoyed at Courtney. Adore was the one who should have told her to leave.

“Do you mind?” Adore asked, and Courtney stood up, giving her a suggestive wink.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said, kissing Adore on the top of the head and then moving to Tati, giving her a hug.

“I don’t think that works here, babe,” Adore said, laughing.

“Okay well then…” A cheeky grin pulled at Courtney’s lips and she said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do after like 4 shots.” She punctuated that statement by licking her lips suggestively.

Adore giggled again, shaking her head and saying, “Get out of here, idiot!”

“Nighty-night, kids!” Courtney called, heading for the back door.

Tati swallowed. She knew that Adore would probably want to mess around now, but she didn’t have the energy to fake it. Nina was right. Jumping into this way too fast was a mistake. She needed friends, or the year would just be a total misery, and she was super grateful to have found their group. But if she got in any deeper with Adore, there was a chance she’d jeopardize that. So she stood up, picking her bag off the ground, and said, “I should probably take off, too.”

“What? Why?” Adore looked confused.

“Uh...you know, it’s getting late, so…” Tati began to put on her jacket, and Adore jumped up to grab the sleeve.

“I thought you were staying over. My mom’s at work…”

“Well…” Tati hesitated, knowing that she had to handle this delicately, or risk losing all of her new friends.

“What’s wrong?” Adore asked, biting her lip.

“I just...I had a different idea of how tonight would go,” Tati finally explained.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry about that, she’s not always great at reading the room,” Adore said, unable to keep the affectionate chuckle out of her voice.  

“It’s not her.”

“It’s not?” Adore’s brow furrowed deeper.

“I mean...it’s just the way you are with her, the way you look at her. And why didn’t you just tell her to leave?”

The red began to creep into Adore’s cheeks. “I guess I didn’t think I...should.”

“Right.” Tati finished putting on her jacket and slung her bag over her shoulder.  

“Wait, Tati. You don’t understand.” Adore’s hazel eyes were glassy, her voice desperate as she clung to Tati’s sleeve. “It’s really complicated, with her.”

Of course Tati understood. Inappropriate, uncomfortable crushes were practically a right of passage for teenage lesbians. Hers was a friend from camp, a girl who still made her heart ache every time she thought about her.

“Yeah, no, I do get it. Actually.” Tati took Adore’s hand and squeezed it. “I guess I just didn’t realize how complicated until tonight.”

“Please don’t go,” Adore begged, still gripping her sleeve.

Tati leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“You’re beautiful, you know that? But, it just seems like you guys have a whole--”

Tears began to slip down Adore’s cheeks and Tati stopped abruptly.

“Fuck,” Adore whispered hoarsely.

“I won’t say it out loud, if you don’t want me too.”

Adore bit her trembling lip, nodding, then swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands, finally releasing Tati’s arm.

“Yeah, please...please don’t.”

“Okay.” Tati took a deep breath. It didn’t seem right to just leave her here crying. But on the other hand, she was fairly certain that the tears had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her bestie next door. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Adore sniffled, nodding.  

Tati pulled her in for one last tight, quick hug and headed for the door, sighing. So much for a fun and inconsequential little fling.

-

“Here you go, Grandma.” Courtney carried the cup and saucer to her grandmother at the kitchen table, setting her tea down carefully. “Do you want some of that cranberry biscotti you like, too?”

“Yes, thank you, dear,” Muriel said, and Courtney skipped over to the cupboard, feeling like an absolute model granddaughter. She’d gotten home to find Muriel in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes after dinner, and immediately offered her assistance, scrubbing out a pot, loading the dishwasher, and then making her grandmother a cup of tea as she’d sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Surely she deserved an award of some kind for being this considerate and helpful.

She arranged several biscotti artfully on a plate when a knock at the kitchen door caught her attention. She set the cookies down and then opened the door, surprised to find Adore there, eyes a bit red and watery. (Of course, these days, Adore’s eyes were usually red, as she seemed to have upped the weed smoking quite a bit.)

“Hey...are you alright?”

Adore nodded.

“Where’s Tatianna?” Courtney asked.

“Uh, we sort of...broke up.”

“Oh no!” Courtney slipped outside, shutting the door behind her, feeling like this was a conversation that Muriel didn’t need to hear. “I’m so sorry!”

Courtney pulled Adore in for a hug, trying to hide her relief. She really did feel bad, even if part of her was jealous about all the attention Adore was lavishing on the new girl; mostly, she just hated to see Adore upset. She put her hands on Adore’s shoulders, pulling back a bit to look into her eyes. Up close, it was clear now that she’d been crying.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’ll be cool, I just…” Adore sighed. “Bonnie’s at work, and I just really didn’t want to be alone.”

Courtney nodded, gently tucking a lock of hair behind Adore’s ear. She hated seeing her best friend sad, of course, but it felt good to be the one she came to for comfort.

“Do you wanna stay over tonight?” Courtney asked.

“Is that okay?” Adore bit her lip, eyes flicking to Courtney’s grandmother, visible through the kitchen window.

“Of course! Anytime.” Courtney hugged her again. “Come on in. Have some of Gary’s artisan gelato.”

“Sounds perfect,” Adore said, finally flashing that winning smile, just like when they were kids and Courtney could solve any problem with ice cream. She grinned back, pressing a kiss to Adore’s temple before pulling her inside.

-

Adore lay awake, staring at the faint glow-in-the-dark star stickers all over Courtney’s ceiling. She couldn’t shake that nagging, uncomfortable feeling she’d had ever since Tati had said, or rather not said, what she had earlier.

Was Adore that obvious? Did everyone know?

And more importantly...did Courtney know?

She shifted her weight to her side, facing Courtney now, who was sleeping peacefully, one blonde curl falling across her face. She studied the way the moonlight illuminated her features. She’d spent so many hours of her life looking at that face, and almost as many dreaming about it. And still, sometimes, it was like she was a stranger. It was odd to think about how someone she’d known so long, shared some of her deepest secrets with, could be in the dark about something so monumentally big.

For a moment, Adore wondered if Tati was right. Should she just tell Courtney how she felt? Lay all her cards on the table? Deal with whatever heartbreak, whatever pain might result?

“Court?” she whispered, inching closer, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Mmm?” Courtney’s eyes fluttered, her arms instinctively wrapping around Adore’s waist, pulling her closer.

“I need to tell you something.”

Courtney opened her eyes, blinking awake, and immediately her brow creased with concern. It wasn’t until then that Adore realized that she’d been crying.

“What is it, Dory? Are you okay?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, I just...um…” Adore took a deep, shaky breath, the oxygen filling her lungs like a splash of cold water to the face.

“What?” Courtney’s thumbs gently dried her tears. “Is it about Tatianna?”

“I...I…” She gazed into Courtney’s eyes in the dim, moonlit room, breath hitching, unable to get the words out.

“What? Are you okay?” Her voice was so soft and warm and caring, hands still cradling Adore’s cheeks, and Adore knew that it was now or never.

She could be honest, in this moment. On the lumpy mattress they’d shared countless times over the years, underneath the dimly-glowing star stickers on Courtney’s ceiling. She could confess, unburden her aching heart, and maybe it would all be fine. But...what if it wasn’t?

“Um...yeah. I guess I’m just sad.” Adore gulped, her nerve suddenly gone, every ounce of courage dissolved in an instant. Her heart pounded as if she’d narrowly escaped death, as if a truck had just swerved into her bike lane, missing her by inches.

“I’m so sorry,” Courtney said, pulling her close, wrapping her into a warm embrace, lips pressed to her temple.

“Thanks. Thanks for...being here,” Adore sniffled.

“I’ll always be here. I love you, Dory.”

“Me too,” Adore said, eyes falling closed as fresh, hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She wished that Courtney knew exactly how much, but even more than that, she was relieved that she hadn’t taken that terrifying leap into the unknown.  

#rpdr fanfiction #tree house kisses #scorpio #veronica #adorney #adore delano #courtney act #bianca del rio #tatianna #bitney #adore x tatianna #lesbian au #high school au #m/f au #angst #fluff

[theunderdogwrites]

THREE BOOKS THAT NEED TO BE WRITTEN AND THEN IMMEDIATELY BANNED

Banning books is not common practice here in Canada. Instead, we “challenge” certain titles. I love us.

The first book banned in the United States was in 1637. And the name of that book is: New English Canaan.

It was written by an English businessman named Thomas Morton. In 1624, he arrived in Massachusetts with a group of Puritans, but left them because he didn’t want to abide by the strict rules and conventional values that made up their new American society.

Morton stomped off and created his own colony (now Quincy, Massachusetts) with the forbidden old-world customs that the Puritans loathed. The Puritan militia exiled him, sparking his anger. He filed a lawsuit and wrote a TELL-ALL-BOOK. Read that again. The first book banned in America was a tell-all-book critiquing and attacking Puritan customs. It was so harsh that even other New English settlers disapproved of it. He compared the Puritans to crustaceans. Imagine living in a time where the most abhorrent insult was being compared to a lobster (the cockroach of the sea back then). Nowadays people will call you a lousy, dirty heathen for forgetting your reusable grocery bag in the car.

If you ask the all-mighty Google search engine which books have been banned, the first site to come up is this one:

http://www.ala.org/advocacy/bbooks/frequentlychallengedbooks/classics

It gives a substantial list of books that have either been banned or seriously challenged over the years and lists the MANY reasons why. The list contains such classics as:

- The Great Gatsby: Challenged at the Baptist College in Charleston, SC (1987) because of "language and sexual references in the book

- Ulysses: Burned in the U.S. (1918), Ireland (1922), Canada (1922), England (1923) and banned in England (1929). (Side note: this book was thought to be “like the work of a disorganized mind” and that makes me laugh)

- 1984: Challenged in the Jackson County, FL (1981) because Orwell's novel is "pro-communist and contained explicit sexual matter."

-  Of Mice and Men: Banned from classroom use at the Scottsboro, AL Skyline High School (1983) due to "profanity." The Knoxville, TN School Board chairman vowed to have "filthy books" removed from Knoxville's public schools (1984) and picked Steinbeck's novel as the first target due to "its vulgar language."

-  Slaughterhouse Five: Banned in Levittown, NY (1975), North Jackson, OH (1979), and Lakeland, FL (1982) because of the "book's explicit sexual scenes, violence, and obscene language."

I’ve read all these books, except for Ulysses. It’s a 730-page quest I’m not stoked to embark on anytime soon. And with the exception of Slaughterhouse Five, all of these other books were school assignments.

I’ve said this before – I’m a free speech advocate, BUT words and actions have consequences. Do I always agree with those consequences? No. I struggle with ‘cancel culture’ and the unwillingness to let people atone for their behavior. But pulling at that thread right now will start a whole other conversation and I’ll spiral off topic for a long time.

I did a quick search on what books have been banned / challenged recently and found a few:

- Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher (published in 2007)

- The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie                    (published in 2009)

- Beartown by Fredrik Backman (published 2016)

- Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami (published 2002)

The reasons range from the books being obscene with very vivid descriptions of sex to being vulgar, graphic and just unnecessary subject matter to the use of filthy words to reference masturbation and themes viewed by many as anti-Christian. A couple of these books were specifically targeted because they were being assigned in high schools and parents were the driving force behind getting these titles removed. Fair enough.

There is always going to be someone who gets offended by some thing. Always. And if they have the drive and can convince enough people to see it their way, well then that some thing could be at risk.

Out of all the books I’ve ever read, I can’t think of a single one I found offensive enough to warrant keeping others from reading those words. And I’ve read Mein Kampf. No, this is not me supporting Hitler. If you want to read it, go for it. But let me save you the time you’d be wasting by reading that book with this quick review: Even Hitler distanced himself from the book.

The recent dust-up around the Dr. Seuss books got me to thinking about books I’d like to see written just so they can then be banned. I’ve come up with three. Lucky you.

1. The Cat Owner’s Guide to Being Owned

Synopsis: So, you got yourself a cat? Welcome to The Thunderdome. Prepare to be dominated! This book will assist you through the process and inevitable transformation into the 1-20 year sentence of being a servant to your house tiger. You will be taught how to cope with your newfound humility because of realizations such as:

1. You are no longer in charge

2. Scooping piss and poop from a litterbox is a chore you willingly took on when you brought that fucking cat into your home

3. Failure to fill a food dish that is already 65% full results in constant pestering and could bring on serious consequences ranging from the destruction of your valuables to urine-soaked bed sheets. Please note: you no longer own any valuables

4. Your size is a non-factor. The house tiger is a brilliant survivor who will not think twice about eating your eyes should you die in your sleep

By the end of this book, you will have come to the conclusion that you may have made a mistake.

Why this book should be banned: If the cats get a hold of it, WE ARE DOOMED.

 2. Your Period and You, by Dr. Peter Tampon

Synopsis: Dr. Tampon is a renowned Florida based gynecologist who understands women and the female experience better than most women. And in this follow up to his multi copy selling debut “Lady, It’s Not Your Hypothyroidism, You’re Just Fat and Lazy!”, he will tell you all the reasons why you get so fucking batshit crazy one week a month. Discover your body through the eyes of a male professional and learn practises to save everyone around you from certain peril should they speak to you during Aunt Flow’s monthly visit. Techniques include: just keeping your mouth shut, crying into your pillow to avoid bothering others with your weeping sounds, going for a long, long walk so no one has to deal with your imagined pain & discomfort and Dr. Tampon’s personal favorite – it’s all in your head.

Why this book should be banned: If it’s not self-explanatory then chances are you’re an actual tampon.

 3. In Absence: A True Crime Novel About The Disappearance of Kindness

Synopsis: It’s 2021 and in the midst of a worldwide pandemic – Kindness is missing. But where did it go? Some will blame The Maskless Deniers – a group of petulant children posing as adults hellbent on spreading selfishness and misinformation about their personal freedoms being violated. Perhaps science is the culprit; with all it’s pesky facts and unashamed insistence that you pay attention. Others will say it’s The Sheeple – those willing to blindly follow without question while forcing others to adhere to public health orders. And then there are those who will say the world is full of jackasses who feel they have invisible permission to create chaos and screw civility in the eye socket, so Kindness packed its bags and left on its own.

Why this book should be banned: Maybe it shouldn’t? Maybe this needs to be written about and just left alone.

 “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.” – Mahatma Gandhi

#kindness #banned books #cats #dr seuss #gandhi #pandemic

[searchingforenadi]

writing a will is standard procedure

although it’s terribly misleading, the power of a name like ‘bloody bakery’ is too strong to ignore, so that’s exactly what we’re going to keep it as :O

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

a brief summary: Your customers won’t stop bleeding in your shop. You realize this might be a problem. (second person!OC, TYL).

xxvi.

You spend a few more days reevaluating your life choices. 

Perhaps, you think, hands clasped firmly in front of you, you’ve gotten a little greedy with your  new source of revenue. 

On the other hand, another voice in your head argues, it’s not like you could’ve refused them. Paying customers are the same wherever you go. What kind of business owner would you be if you turned away every customer wearing a fancy suit?

You stare into the empty space of your store, the quiet ticks of a clock ringing in your ears. 

The fallacy of mankind, you think solemnly, is wanting nice things. 

Is this how it always begins? You used to find it ridiculous whenever the media reported sensational news about a company’s descent into corruption. Now, however, it occurs to you that perhaps you’re the one facing that same downfall as well.

Should I write a will? You stare even more deeply at the tiled floor. 

The thought has never crossed your mind before. It’s something you had planned to do when you turn old and grey, but since it looks like your chances of meeting an early demise have skyrocketed in the past few months, maybe you should.

The entrance to your door swings open. 

“Welcome,” you say, already on autopilot. It won’t do to ignore any potential customers right when you’re on the precipice of cutting off your very dangerous, very generous regulars. “How can I - ”

Yamamoto waves a hand. By his side, Gokudera remains silent, his hands inside the pockets of his pants. 

“ - help you?” you finish smoothly. It’s only through a decade of customer service that you’re able to keep a polite smile on your face. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Yamamoto says, eyes creasing with a smile. Gokudera, in the meantime, lets out a grunt. 

“The usual then?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on their faces. You’ve spent too long pointedly avoiding Yamamoto’s sword to start staring now. 

Yamamoto’s smile doesn’t waver. “That would be great!” 

You get started on the coffee and, while the water is slowly boiling, you pull out your usual tiramisu cake. 

“So,” Yamamoto says, leaning casually on the counter by your register. “Anything interesting happened lately?”

Yes, you immediately want to blurt out. I saw your friends handling illegal weapons outside my shop. 

“Not really,” you say instead, the picture-perfect image of a clueless baker. “I’ll be shopping at a new place this weekend. Very exciting.”

“I’m sure it is,” Yamamoto says, and it sounds like he means it. You turn back around and pass him the usual box of cake. 

In your other hand is the usual cup of coffee and, right as you’re handing it off to Gokudera’s outreached hand, you quickly glance down. 

His legs, thankfully, are free of any knives. 

Gokudera snatches the cup from your hand. To the side, Yamamoto slaps a hand to his own mouth.

“You - ” Gokudera starts with a snarl, eyes flashing. 

“And that’s our cue to go,” Yamamoto cuts in, stopping a potential crime scene from occurring within your shop. He slaps down a wad of cash and wraps an arm around Gokudera’s neck.

“Let me go, you little - !”

“Keep the change,” Yamamoto says, eyes creasing and shoulders slightly shaking. They leave right after, as Gokudera sends you silent death threats while struggling to escape from Yamamoto’s grasp. 

You stare down at the pile of money on your counter. The fact that you’ve narrowly missed an early meeting with your late grandpa seems to pale in comparison to the stack of bills in front of you.

No, a voice that sounds awfully like your conscience whispers, you shouldn’t. Just take the right amount and return the rest! That way, the government has no proof when they knock on your door - 

You very delicately pick up the money and slide it into the register. 

“I’m human too,” you say out loud, to the utter silence in your shop. “We all have our flaws.”

The absence of any response should’ve been telling enough.

xxvii.

The next day, during the late morning, you fiddle through several documents. 

You have enough to finally buy that mixer and now, your days of suffering are over. No longer will you have to hand mix your dough whenever your rusty, old mixer gives up on you. No longer will you weep over its struggle to handle your heavier mixtures - 

The front door opens, sending a warm breeze through the shop. 

“Welcome!” you call out, closing your notebook shut. If everything goes as planned, you should be able to order it by the end of the weekend. “How can I help you?”

You stop. There, standing in all his teenage glory, stands Lambo - your well-paying regular and possible juvenile delinquent.

Lambo grins. “Hi!”

“Hi,” you say, for lack of better words. It doesn’t seem like an appropriate time to mention your eye-witness account of his crimes. “You’re here early today.”

You can’t remember ever seeing Lambo coming into the shop earlier than the afternoon. 

He shrugs, before plastering his face into your glass display. “School’s cancelled today.”

“School,” you repeat, somehow astounded by the news. It shouldn’t surprise you - Lambo is still a teenager and those types of people should still be in school. It certainly explains the fancy uniform he’s always wearing. 

“I didn’t know the local school here required uniforms,” you think aloud, pushing a finger against Lambo’s forehead to remove him from the display. It’s enough of a sanitary hazard that you’re willing to risk getting shot for it. 

Lambo laughs, a little too loudly for the quiet shop. He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, I, uh, go to school somewhere else. Outside town.”

“Outside the town?” you blink slowly. So a private school? It fits the image you have, considering how much money Lambo throws your way. 

Lambo laughs even more, and it is the most awkward sound you’ve heard this week. You take this as a sign to leave the subject matter alone and instead say, “I have some candied fruits, if you’re interested.”

“Yes!” Lambo blurts out, his demeanor shifting immediately into something bright. “I want that.”

You wait for a moment.

“Please,” he adds belatedly, before sending you a winning smile. 

An answering smile finds its way onto your face and you move to pack a jar or two. You pull out your usual stash of dango and stick it into the take-out bag as well.

“Make sure you share some with Tsuna,” you tell him, taking his cash and trying not to scan his clothes for any suspicious lumps that would hide a weapon. 

Lambo makes a face. “But you gave him some last time!”

Your smile widens. “I’m not making you share if you don’t want to.”

He droops instantly. 

“Fine,” he says petulantly. “I’ll think about it, I guess.”

You lean onto your display, resting your head on a hand. “If you stop by next week, I might have some mochi for you to try, if you know what it is.”

Lambo perks up, so quickly you wonder if he’s ever gotten whiplash from his constantly changing emotions. “Mochi? Of course I do! I used to eat them all the time in Japan.”

You pause at this new information. “You used to live in Japan?”

“For a few years,” Lambo says, waving a hand flippantly in the air. “It was nice.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, unsure as to why this reveal bothers you so much. “Well, you’re welcome to try some if you’re here.”

Lambo gives you a strange look. “But I’m here almost every day.”

You sigh. “But you shouldn’t. Spend some time somewhere else, Lambo.”

Lambo slowly grins, in a way that tells you he hasn’t even bothered to consider your words, before waving a hand goodbye. 

You run a hand through your hair - sometimes, you wonder why you even bother.

xxviii.

That night, you set your alarm and settle into bed, closing your eyes firmly shut. Tomorrow morning, you will be getting that anko, one way or another. 

If the marketplace doesn’t have any, you already have an order form for azuki beans filled out and ready to go. At this point, price or time doesn’t matter - your desire for anko has transcended all logical thought and has become a primal need.

Just you wait, you think, turning over to one side and pulling your blankets up to your face. 

The next morning, your eyes shoot open the moment your alarm goes off. You slap a hand to your phone and sit straight up, blinking blearily into your dark bedroom.

It takes a short while to feel human again. A cup of coffee in hand and thirty minutes later, you stare out of your window, to the dusty, light blue sky. 

Outside, where the sun has yet to hit your apartment, you inhale deeply, feeling the cool, sharp air in your lungs. 

You’ve already mapped out the way to the new marketplace last night. After a few wrong turns and a five minute break to consider if you’ve perhaps lost all common sense, you eventually find a blocked off plaza full of different sized stalls.

The sun now resting on the back of your neck, you trudge through the plaza, shuffling past a crowd of people huddled around a fruit stall. Staring out into the bustling market, you decide it’s a travesty it’s taken you this long to find out about it. 

You continue wandering down the road, eyes peeled for any hint of your sought after anko. Tsuna had given a general area but it’s up to you to narrow down your search.

The sun rises higher as you awkwardly move around another small crowd of elderly women. Your crane your neck to squint at a particularly promising stall and - 

And promptly walk into a wall. 

Not a wall, you then think, hissing in pain as your hand flies to your smarting nose. Walls don’t feel like fabric and smell like smoke.

“Sorry,” you say, eyes blinking rapidly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going - ”

You pause. Through your watering eyes, your head slowly rises higher and, under a crown of silver hair, Gokudera scowls. 

What are the chances, you think distantly, absentmindedly rubbing your nose. This isn’t the first time you’ve come across a customer outside the shop, but you prefer keeping your business and private life separate. 

“Of course you weren’t,” Gokudera says, rolling his eyes. It might have been more intimidating if he had been wearing his suit, but for the very first time, he’s wearing more casual clothes - a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. 

“Right,” you say, a smile almost making its way on your face. A local marketplace is the last place you would ever expect to see Gokudera, but there’s something about it - the bustle of people, the laughter of children, the scent of fruit and spices - that almost makes him seem approachable. “Nice to see you too.”

Gokudera scoffs, shoving his free hand into his pockets. He tightens his grip on several plastic bags, before turning around and walking away. 

You imagine this is the closest thing to a peaceful exit you’ll ever get from someone like Gokudera. 

WIth a shrug, you resume your search, scanning the stalls and making sure to keep an extra eye on the road in front of you. Strangely enough, Gokudera is still only a few paces ahead of you, with hunched shoulders and trudging feet. 

It doesn’t take long for a set of somewhat familiar characters to catch your eye. You squint immediately, feet stopping in place. 

Like paper clips to a magnet, you walk up to the stall - already, you recognize several snacks you used to horde back when you went shopping at the Japanese market with your mom in the States. 

Your lips curve up into a smile.

A commotion on the other side grabs your attention. There’s an older woman, face flushed red and a package in her hands, speaking loudly to the owner of the stall, an elderly Japanese woman with gray hair tied tightly into a bun. 

All too familiar with irate customers, you send a silent prayer of sympathy to the old lady and look back down. Those same snacks are now somehow in your hands. 

The power of nostalgia, you think, clutching the snacks closer to your chest, is a terrifying thing.

You turn around - and nearly drop everything when you come face-to-face with Gokudera once again.

He narrows his eyes.

“You again?” he mutters, a perplexed look on his face, as if he can’t decide if he should stab you or leave the subject matter alone.

You fix a smile on your face. Maybe you should’ve written that will after all.

But no, you’ve risked too much to leave now. After a second of deliberation, you decide that you’d rather get shanked than miss your chance at finding some anko.

“This is the new place I was hoping to check out,” you tell him, as a reminder that, despite his intimidating appearance, you’re the one providing the goods in this business relationship.

And, because you still value your life (despite your previous resolve), you add, “Tsuna recommended it to me.”

(You actually don’t have a single clue about the sort of relationship Gokudera and Tsuna might have, since you’ve never seen the two together.

But you’re hoping it won’t hurt to bring in some familiar names, just in case, to keep Gokudera accountable.)

Gokudera pauses, his eyebrows furrowing.

Then, with a click of his tongue, he runs a hand through his silver hair and says, “Yeah, whatever.”

You give Gokudera a wide amount of space and he walks around you, grumbling under his breath.

Disaster averted, you continue your (rather limited) shopping spree, walking around to the tune of a woman’s yells. 

A few minutes pass and suddenly, after finding yourself staring blankly at a series of foreign words, it finally hits you. 

You can’t read a single speck of Japanese beyond your own name.

The despair that follows nearly cripples you. It only lasts for several moments, thankfully, because your parents haven’t raised a fool.

You pull out your phone and look up the kanji for anko. Like a makeshift metal detector, you continue walking around, appraising anything that might look like red bean paste. 

The search goes on for a short while before it leaves you completely empty-handed. You let out a long sigh, shifting slightly to accommodate the number of snacks in your arms.

You drag your feet to the register, already calculating the days it’ll take to have azuki beans delivered to your doorstep.

If I pay more, I can get it next week, you think, folding your fingers to keep track of your numbers. It would’ve been a problem a few months ago, spending an exorbitant amount of money for azuki beans, but your strange and well-dressed regulars have solved it for you with their… generosity.

You check the time on your phone. The same woman from before is still at the register, and you’re a little impressed at how she’s gone for ten minutes without taking a single breath.

It’s bothersome enough that you consider dumping the snacks and leaving altogether. From the almost blank look on the stall owner’s face, you can only imagine this will continue for a while.

Except, by sheer coincidence, your eyes focus on the package in the woman’s hands. The kanji looks vaguely familiar, which is impossible, because you only know - 

You quickly pull out your phone and almost drop your snacks in your haste. 

“There’s no way,” you say to yourself, staring at the matching kanji on your phone. 

The stars aligning themselves to dangle anko in your face isn’t the most terrifying part. Rather, you can’t believe you’re actually considering, actually thinking about taking the anko, without knowing where it’s been, or where it came from - 

A rustle of noise grabs your attention, dragging you away from your horrifying, unsanitary thoughts. You look back and, surprise surprise, it’s Gokudera, lining up behind you. 

His lips twist into a scowl as he watches the one-sided argument. It’s a look so foul, you can almost see him planning a premeditated murder. 

Which, he wouldn’t do, of course, because this is a very open space, in a very public area. 

… Right?

He wouldn’t, you think, a little less confidently. 

An ominous creak fills the air when Gokudera digs his fingers deep into the plastic packages in his hands. 

You swiftly walk up to the register, because you’re not particularly eager to witness a crime on a Saturday morning. It’s the grandest act of community service you’ve done since high school and you hope it’ll be the last.

“Excuse me,” you say, plastering on your best customer service smile. “That anko - is there a problem with it?”

The woman stops her tirade to give you a dirty look.

“The problem is that I was tricked!” she snaps, gesturing to the packaged anko. From a glance, it doesn’t look opened. “I asked for regular beans and this old lady gave me this!”

“Regular beans,” you repeat, before slowly looking back at the anko. You’re sorely tempted to ask how red bean paste could ever be mistaken for actual beans, but you swallow the words down.

“That must have been confusing,” you say instead, keeping that smile on your face because you’re a professional. “How much did you pay for it?”

“Ten euros,” the woman says, crossing her arms. “And I’m not leaving until I get a full refund for it!”

You put your snacks down on the counter, pull out your wallet, and hand over the right amount. “Great! Consider it paid for.”

The woman stares at the bills in her hand. “What?”

“Your refund,” you say, taking the anko from her loosened grip. “You can leave now, right?”

It doesn’t take long before the woman leaves in a huff, face still flushed and a hand clutching the cash tight. 

You turn to the stall owner, who still doesn’t look particularly invested in the commotion before her. She studies you for a moment and slowly, a smile appears on her lips.

“---?” she asks you in Japanese, dark eyes gleaming. “--- is okay, but ---”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you say, only able to catch a few words. Heat flares briefly on your cheeks. “I don’t really understand.”

(For the briefest of moments, you suddenly wish you had taken your mom’s efforts to teach you Japanese a little more seriously. If you had, would you even be in this situation right now?)

The elderly woman’s smile widens. 

“No problem,” she says, switching to Italian with a heavy accent. The creases around her eyes deepen as she points to the snacks on the counter. “You take this?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, a little startled at the topic change. The stall owner hums, ringing up your snacks and calling out something else in Japanese.

You’re left slightly bewildered when she waves a hand, until moments later, someone else joins your side.

With a slightly resigned expression, Gokudera sets down his own purchases, and answers back in Japanese. 

In completely fluent, native Japanese.

This, you think, blinking rapidly, shouldn’t bother you. Gokudera is clearly, at least, partially Japanese, and why wouldn’t someone like that know how to speak it?

(This time, however, you can’t stop the flash of envy that spikes through your chest.)

You shake away your thoughts when the stall owner passes back your snacks in a bag.

“Thank you,” you say, accepting the bag and adding your newly acquired anko inside as well. “How much should I…?”

The stall owner smiles warmly before saying something to Gokudera again.

Gokudera, in the meantime, lets out an aggravated sigh.

“She says don’t worry about it,” he tells you, looking as if he’d rather be doing anything else than translate an old woman’s words for a random baker. 

You look down at your snacks in surprise. “Wait, really?”

The stall owner says a few more words. 

“‘It’s payment for getting rid of that annoying fucker,’ is what she says,” Gokudera lazily adds.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

You open your mouth, and close it again. 

“Is that,” you finally begin, after another pause. “Is that what she really said?”

Gokudera shrugs, which you find is a far worse response than a simple yes or no. 

You turn back to the old woman, who still has a serene smile on her face. Your head spinning, you say hesitantly, “Um, thank you then.”

Then, because you’re fairly certain you’ve somehow entered the twilight zone, you give a returning smile and slowly back away.

At this point, Gokudera’s purchases have also been bagged and, a little dazed,  you follow him back into the plaza. 

“Well, I’ll see you around then,” you say, a heartbeat too late, but really - who can blame you? “Thanks for translating.”

You’re not sure if you actually mean it, but you imagine Gokudera could’ve ditched at any point, so props to him for helping out the elderly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, his free hand once again stuffed into his pocket. It’s strange how harmless it makes him look for once. “Next time, figure it out by yourself.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you say, after coming to the conclusion that, despite the roller coaster of events, you’re more than willing to return if you can find more of this anko. “I’m used to language barriers.”

The both of you reach the plaza entrance and, with piercing green eyes, Gokudera looks at you like you’re the slowest person on the planet.

“That’s stupid,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Why would you be used to it? Just learn the damn language.”

Something clenches in your chest.

“I,” you falter, the heat returning to your cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t thought about that?”

Gokudera snorts. “If you’ve thought about it, but haven’t tried it, does it actually count?”

It’s tempting to give into the acid that burns your throat. Gokudera doesn’t know anything about you and, frankly, it was a terrible idea to continue talking with someone who’s just a regular from your shop.

What’s even worse, you realize, is that he’s completely right.

(When have you ever really put in the effort to learn your mom’s home language? If it bothers you that much, why haven’t you tried picking it up again?)

Gokudera quickly runs a hand through his hair. 

“Look,” he finally says, after the silence stretches for a moment too long. “Forget I said anything.”

But he isn’t wrong. 

“No, that’s not it,” you quickly say, suddenly hit with the awareness that Gokudera, despite his abrasive personality, probably isn’t out to get you. “I… I get what you’re saying.”

If something bothers you, shouldn’t you at least try to go after it? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along with the anko in your hands?

You offer a weak smile. “I haven’t thought about it that way. So I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gokudera eyes you, lips twisting into that same perplexed expression from before.

“Right,” he says slowly. “You do that then.”

And without another word, Gokudera turns and walks away. You stare after his slouched shoulders for a brief moment, before glancing down at the bags in your hand.

Your smile falls and, with a heavy sigh, you rub the back of your neck.

As it turns out, it looks like you have some serious thinking to do.

-o-o-o-o-o-

what? you’re telling me that one of Gokudera’s weaknesses being old ladies isn’t canon? 

i actually had a lighter, more comedic plot point to end this chapter with, but it felt like that would diminish the importance of this final scene too much. heritage is something that matters more to some than others, but when you have different cultural backgrounds, it’s not easy to keep them all equal in your life - i hope this evolving struggle for our MC is clear to the people reading it!

there’s so much i want to say about my thoughts on this chapter, but to keep it short - this is the first time we see MC out of the shop and with it, a new set of experiences and facets of their personality. stepping out of their comfort zone (the shop) and being challenged through it - i imagine that Gokudera is the only one capable of doing it intentionally, at this time.

i know this started of as a ‘shitpost’ for giggles, but i do hope this brings some sort of enjoyment even when it digs deeper beyond the humor. it’s been exhausting to do many things lately, but i’m always grateful for how much love has been sent to this little, silly fic. please stay safe and healthy and aware out there!

#searchingforenadi #fanfiction #katekyo hitman reborn #yamamoto takeshi #gokudera hayato #lambo bovino #sawada tsunayoshi #finally #i will tag this #bloody bakery #this is the peak of my career #a title

[caitybug]

(Also sorry you are working on sads and feel blegh) maybe Rain is too "mundain" as far as prompts. 5? 7? 8? Any of those sound fun? 😂

5. Typed kisses.

7. Kisses after decades apart.

8. Kisses after dark.

Birdy, bc I love you, I’m going to try to do all of these haha.

(Shoutout to @adamarks​ for looking this over to make sure I wasn’t going insane.)

(1:35): Good morning! 

(1:35): Snow, it’s 1 in the morning. 

(1:36): Why are you messaging me?

(1:36): It’s 7:30 here.

(1:36): It’s still morning, though. So my original text stands. 

(1:37): Good morning, Snow. 

(1:37):😘 😘 

(1:38): XO. 

Day 2:

(10:03): Let me know how your appointment goes. 

(10:03): XO.

(10:04): My what?

(10:04): Your check-up.

(11:05): You forgot about it, didn’t you?

(11:10): I’m here, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Baz. 

(11:12): You’re an idiot, Snow.

(11:12): 😘 😘 love you.

(11:13): I love you too, XO. 

Day 3:

(15:03): Do you think the milk is still good?

(15:04): When did it go bad?

(15:05): It says it went bad a few days ago.

(15:06): But the date says best by…

(15:06): So it just means it isn’t at its BEST right?

(15:07): How does it smell?

(15:07): Not good.

(15:08): Then don’t drink it.

(15:09): What if I just don’t know how milk is supposed to smell? How often do I really smell milk?

(15:10): Snow, just get more milk. I think we can spare the money it costs.

(15:10): But I’ve already started cooking. 

(15:12): I’m just going to try anyway. 

(15:12): It’ll be cooked anyway, right?

(15:13): I want it known I believe this to be a bad idea. 

(15:14): You also said that subscribing to three different butter services was “unnecessary and excessive”

(15:15): I stand by that, Snow. 

(15:15): How can one person eat that much butter each month?

(15:16): I can’t believe you would doubt my abilities like this. 

(15:16): I thought we were in a loving and supportive relationship. 

(15:17): I love you and support your health.

(15:17): Which means cutting back on butter sometimes, darling.

(15:20): I’m going to use the milk. 

(15:22): I wish you the best.

(15:22): 😘 😘

(15:23): XO. 

Day 5:

(7:40): How is your stomach?

(7:45): Better.

(7:45): I told you to buy new milk. 

(7:47): I think there is a stomach bug going around.

(7:47): Probably that.

(7:49): Sure, Snow.

(7:49): That’s why you spent yesterday regurgitating the entire contents of your stomach.

(7:50): Yes, it is.

(7:52): Have a good day.

(7:52): I miss you.

(7:52): 😘 😘

(7:55): I miss you too.

(7:55): XO.

Day 8:

(20:46): The people above us are pounding it out again.

(20:47): Earplugs are in my bedside drawer.

(20:47): If you were here I’d just try to compete.

(20:48): You certainly would not.

(20:50): I bet we could beat them.

(20:52): Come on, Baz, I know you’ve got a competitive streak. Don’t let Richard and Shelly show us up.

(20:53): You’ve got two hands, Snow. I’m sure you could manage something.

(20:54): Oh? Good idea.

(20:54): Talk later.

(20:55): 😘 😘

(20:57): I regret so much about this conversation.

(20:57): XO.

Day 13:

(14:05): YOU COME BACK TOMORROW!

(14:07): Please stop yelling at me.

(14:07): But yes, I do. 

(14:08): 😊 😊 😊

(14:09): I love you.

(14:14): I love you too.

(14:15): Can we facetime?

(14:15): In a couple of hours, Snow.

(14:15): I’ve got one more meeting.

(14:16): 😔

(14:16): Alright.

(14:17): XO.

(14:18): 😘 😘

Day 14

I get through security. It’s always a painful even, especially in America. Have to practically strip just to stand in a machine that tells everyone what I’ve already known. 

No gun here the machine says with a green light and a beep.

As if I’d need one. 

It’s been delayed several hours for a reason I’ve yet to figure out. The weather looks clear, planes are moving in and out. People on other flights are still departing on time. 

The only reasonable explanation I’ve come up with is the airline is incompetent. 

“Snow,” I say, putting a finger in my right ear, trying to ignore the man screaming at the poor help desk person. “I may not be back until tomorrow.”

I look at the clock. Even if we left now I wouldn’t get home until midnight.

“What? Why?” He asks. His voice sounds frantic.

I hate worrying him.

“This airline work flew me through is set upon ruining my life,” I growl under my breath. 

The service representatives have been berated enough, they don’t need me coming after them as well. (Even if I want to.)

(Crowley do I want to.)

“Right now it doesn’t have us leaving for another two hours, so at earliest I won’t be home until 3 in the morning. With the trend of how this has been going, I won’t be surprised if it gets canceled altogether.”

He huffs.

“I miss you.”

It comes out as a whisper, any quieter, and I would have missed it.

It’s not that he’s ashamed of saying it. We’ve said it a lot over the past two weeks.

He’s sad. I am too. I was supposed to be home by dinner. We were going to order takeaway and watch a movie, kiss and makeup for lost time.

Ignore all responsibilities of the world around us for the evening. 

“I miss you too.” I face the large windows, looking at planes that aren’t mine leaving the runway. 

The blasted airport is under construction too. Everyone said to fly in and out of La Guardia because it is easier, but I’m wondering if I should have taken JFK. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“You better. Preferably before I drink more spoiled milk.”

“Stay away from all dairy products until I return,” I chuckle into the phone. 

An announcement comes over the intercom.

“They’re announcing another delay, I’m sure,” I groan. “I’ll send you a text.”

“I love you,” he says from the other side.

“I love you too,” I respond, ending the call and slipping it into my pocket. 

(14:36): I hope you get home soon.

(14:36): Threaten to suck their blood, or something.

(14:36): I’m sure that would work.

(14:36): 😘 😘.

(14:37): You’re an idiot, Snow.

(14:37): XO.

Day 15, 4:16

I turn my key in the door, trying to quietly walk into the flat. My suitcase softly rolls against the wood behind me as I pull it in, letting it sit next to the door.

Unpacking can happen after I get at least fourteen hours of sleep. 

I place a brown paper sack of scones on the kitchen table.

I couldn’t resist. The shop next to us had just opened, and I knew it would make him smile. 

I continue down the hallway, stopping only to take a piss.

In our room, still blanketed in darkness apart from the street lights coming from the road beside us, Simon softly snores. 

He still sleeps on his side of the bed while I’m away. It makes my heart feel softer than I’d like to admit. 

One hand rests next to his head, his wings spread out across the bed.

I change clothes, relieving myself of all the feelings of travel before softly lifting a wing to get under the blanket and allow him to cover me again.

I don’t have long to process the fact that I’m with him again before I feel something wrap around my calf. 

I pause for a moment before I remember.

The tail.

He is, for all I can tell, still asleep. Meaning it’s recognized I’m here and is saying hello in its own way.

I rub it softly with my other foot.

It dislikes not getting attention, you see.

Simon’s mouth is open as he breathes deeply. I think his pillow is a little wet.

I’d call it disgusting (it is, truly), but I missed him so much that I can’t help but smile.

I risk moving closer and kiss his cheek softly, trying not to wake him up.

I know he hasn’t slept well without me.

(I haven’t either, without him.)

Side effect of sleeping for so many years in that tower. We both got dreadfully used to hearing the other breathe, the way we each navigated and slept.

At this point, I think even his snoring lulls me to sleep.

(I still complain about it, however.)

An arm wraps behind my back and pulls me close.

He takes a deep breath, and when I pull back I see one eye open.

“Hey there,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep. 

“Your breath smells.” I lean in, kissing his forehead. 

“Well your hair is greasy,” he replies, pulling me into a kiss, his hand moving to my hair. 

“You don’t seem to mind it.”

He hums in response.

I pull him tighter. I need to feel this. Everything. 

His lips.

His hands.

His chest against mine.

“And you don’t seem to mind the morning breath,” he states, smiling at me as we break for a moment.

I open my mouth to retort but he puts a finger to my lips, shushing me.

“No talking, only kissing,” he whispers. “I’ve not kissed my fiancé in decades.”

He leans in but I pull back for a moment.

“It’s been two weeks, Snow.”

“Decades,” he states matter of factly. “Each day was like five years passed. It’s been 70 years. I’ve gone grey and wrinkly, waiting for you to return.”

I laugh, being shut up briefly by another round of kisses.

I should sleep.

But this is so much better than sleeping. 

I feel something wet hit my cheek.

Backing up, worried there is a leak from the ceiling, I realize why. 

It’s Simon.

“Love,” I say.

What’s wrong?

“It’s fine; it’s fine,” he says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I’m just tired, and I missed you.”

Another tear drops from one of his eyes, and I brush it away with my thumb.

I open my mouth to say a response, to comfort, but I feel a stinging in my own eyes.

(My eyes have been open for too long, you see. Couldn’t sleep on the plane. I’ve been up far too long to be able to control any tears that fall.)

I lean in to kiss him again.

We kiss, and kiss, and keep kissing. Hands roam, trying to remind our brains of what it feels like to have each other again. 

It was dark when we started, but soon an orange haze comes over the room as the sun rises.

The tears start, stop, start again.

Laughter rings out a few times.

“You did WHAT to our oven??” I shout at one point. 

He lays now with his head on my chest. My eyes are closed, fingers scratching his head lightly.

His hand is softly rubbing my stomach.

“Wait,” Simon says, jumping up and looking at me.

I blink a few times, trying to fight off the sleep that was about to overcome me.

“Did you get?” He asks, question incomplete.

I search his eyes for a moment, frowning, trying to comprehend before I realize what he is saying.

“Yes, they are on the table,” I laugh softly.

He jumps up and starts to go to the door. 

He pauses, looking back at me, clearly wracking his brain with a question. 

“We can eat them in bed,” I say, knowing where his mind is trying to go. 

He smiles and continues his run to the kitchen.

I look out the window and see the sun hit the windows of nearby buildings.

It’s good to be home.

#snowverylost #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #Caity does fanfiction #I hope you like this! #Me #Trying To Do A Text Fic #lol #<3 you birdy

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Close My Eyes(4)

I close my eyes and I make believe You’re the one that’s holding me

Pairing: WillNE x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k+

Pronouns: She/Her

A/N: This is where I made the changes to the story. Big changes.

________________

Five months. It had been five months since Will had last spoken to Y/n. Will had finally caved into Everett's demands of him keeping his distance. He did everything he had to keep her away. He blocked her contact, blocked her social media. He told Gee if Y/n had ever shown up at their front door, he wasn't going to speak to her. Will couldn't even tell if Y/n had been trying to reach out to him, he couldn't tell how long it took for Y/n to finally give up on their friendship. It hurt horribly, but it was worth it if it meant Y/n would be safe as she could be. At this point, Will's friends had learned not to mention Y/n around him. Whenever her name had been mentioned, he'd practically shut down. He'd end up closing up, becoming stiff and tense. He'd try and leave the room or setting as quickly as possible to get away from the conversation. Will had soon taught himself to tune the thought of Y/n out. He learned how to forget her. He figured out how to forget all the memories he had with her. For the first month or two, it hurt like hell. He missed seeing her. He missed being able to be in her presence. He missed the way her smile could light up a room. He just wanted to hold her close. He wanted to be able to whisper sweet things to her, reminding her that he'd always keep her safe. Keeping her safe... it was strange to think he was keeping her safe by keeping his distance. The day Y/n had figured out Will blocked her out of his life was a heart-shattering day. She had sobbed for hours, the only person to comfort her was her maid of honor. Everett hadn't shown any signs of sympathy, he almost seemed proud to have Will cut Y/n off. Y/n had left voicemail after voicemail for Will, which he never received. When she snuck out to stop by his flat, she had been ushered away by his flatmate. Gaby had even tried to reach out to Will, only to be given the exact same treatment as Y/n. After a month, Y/n had finally accepted it all. But Will lingered in her mind almost every day. She missed him. She just wanted to be with him. She wanted to hear him say everything would be okay. As the wedding date rolled closer and closer, Y/n had become quite more anxious. At this point, she wasn't sure if she was ready to get married. Everything was moving so fast, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to be Everett's wife for the rest of her life. But it seemed to be too late to cancel things. "How do you feel?" Gaby spoke behind Y/n, tightening the back of Y/n's white gown. Gaby. She had been Y/n's rock throughout all of this. She had been Y/n's shoulder to cry on. Gaby felt sympathetic for Y/n. She had watched everything happen from the beginning. She was clever enough to not call Everett out on his decisions and choices, otherwise she wouldn't have been in Y/n's life anymore. "Gaby. Get out." The room had gotten cold of all sudden. Everett walked in, a look of distaste on his face. "But I was-" "You heard me," he snapped in a stern voice. Without saying another word, Gaby took her exit, leaving the engaged couple alone. At this point Everett had started to circle Y/n, his eyes roaming her body. Y/n felt so vulnerable, she didn't like it one bit. She stared at herself in the mirror that sat in the corner of the room. She felt scared to even look at her soon to be husband. "Why are you wearing your wedding gown, Y/n?" Everett spoke in a low tone, sending a shiver down Y/n's spine. "I just wanted to try it on one more time before our wedding." Y/n couldn't help but speak in a low tone. It sounds so abnormal for Y/n to be speaking in such a tone. Everett stopped his circling, walking up behind Y/n. As soon as he stood right behind her, his hands reached out, grabbing onto her arms harshly. It felt like he wanted to leave bruises on her, as though they'd be some type of cruel trophy showing his ownership of her. He made eye contact with Y/n through the mirror, they stared at each other for a moment before Everett made a tutting noise. "Y/n... you're quite the fool, aren't you? You're going to ruin your dress. And a week before my wedding?" He yanked Y/n, turning around to face him, his grip tightened on her arms as they faced each other now. Leaning down, he raised his voice, almost growling. "How dare you? You don't realize I'm tired, overworked all for my wedding? I've been trying to make it perfect, yet you keep getting in the way. What a disappointment you are. Have anything to say?" Y/n debated with herself, should she really say anything? Or was this another trap to give him a reason to get angry at her? Y/n kept their mouth shut, their eyes emotionless as they fought back tears. "Answer me!" His voice dripped with venom as he began to shake Y/n by the grip he held on her poor arms. He definitely would leave bruises now. Again, Y/n stayed silent. That had only made Everett so much more infuriated. Within seconds, Y/n fell to the floor, her cheek stung. That's when she realized it. Everett punched her. The tears immediately started to fall as soon as his fist collided with her face. Glancing up, all she could see was the scowl on Everett's face. He had shown no sign of regret for putting his hands on her. Muttering a small 'clean yourself up,' Everett disappeared out of the doorway. "Oh my god, Y/n! What happened?!" What felt like seconds had only been minutes when Gaby appeared again to find her best friend crying. By now Y/n had finally gained her strength to stand up from where she crashed to the floor. "I-I need to go," Y/n whimpered, passing by her bridesmaid. There was only one person she needed right now. And she was willing to go and see him even if he didn't want to speak to her.

Will had invited the Eboys over for drinks and future video planning. So far they only had three video ideas planned out, but no idea where they'd be filming the videos. "I just think we shouldn't even try to film a football video-" George had flinched at the sound of the front door being pounded on. "Will, it's me. It's N/n. Please, I need you. I only need you right now," Y/n could be hear on the other side of the door. "Is she... crying?" Alex raised a brow, his eyes looked on the door. Will froze, staring at the door. If he didn't answer it, she'd go home. 'But she's crying you asshole.' "Will, I'm so sorry. He was such a bad man." Y/n had slid down to the floor, leaning against the front door as she sobbed.                                                                                                     "You've got no balls, Will." George gave his friend a look before making his way to the front door. As soon as the door opened, Y/n sat up, quickly rushing into Will's arms. Will automatically wrapped his arms around Y/n, holding her as tight as possible, he didn't want to let her ago again. He could feel his eyes water, was this actually her? This wasn't some cruel dream? When they finally pulled away from the hug, Will kept his arms around her waist, still holding her near. As soon as Will got a good look at her the first thing he had noticed was her gown. 'Runaway bride?' But the most important thing he noticed was the bruise forming on her cheek. He knew exactly who did this to her. "I'm going to kill him and no one will find his pathetic body." As Will made his way to the front door, he had been stopped by James. Somehow, Y/n had gotten Will to calm down after a while. She had promised to set charges against Everett for assault and to put a restraining order against him. After getting that all sorted out, Y/n had explained the whole story to her old friends. She told them about the way he yelled at her. She explained how he made her cut everyone out of her life. She mentioned how he chose everything for their wedding, even the gown she was wearing at the moment. After spending the day with her friends, catching up on everything and being comforted by them, James, George, and Alex decided to head back to their homes for the night. "Not to sound as demanding as your fiance-" "Ex fiance. I'm not gonna go through that marriage." Y/n cut Will off for a moment. "Yeah. Not to sound as demanding as that jackass, but you're gonna stay here tonight. We still have your old room from before you moved in with him and if you need clothes you can borrow Gee's or mine." "Yeah, sounds like a smart idea," Y/n nodded. "By the way, Y/n." Will smiled a bit, "You look good in a wedding gown." "Thanks, Will. But I think you're gonna have to help me upstairs in this gown. You would believe how hard it was to drive here." Y/n replied in a sheepish tone, trying to fight back the small blush on her cheeks. Will grinned, looking from the staircase to the love of his life. "We can make that work." Quickly, he picked her up in bridal style, making Y/n let out a small squeal. As the pair made their way up the stairs, Y/n decided to mention another thing to Will. "Also, I'm gonna need you to loosen this dress and get me that one t-shirt I use to steal all the time. You still have it, right?" "Why wouldn't I have it? I remember the last day you gave it back to me I didn't wash it until it didn't have your scent anymore." "You're a dork," Y/n giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. "How am I the dork? You're the one asking for the t-shirt." "You offered your clothes, stupid," Y/n smiled as Will put her down. They reached the top of the stairs. "Am I stupid or am I a dork?" "You're both." Will was laying in bed scrolling through Instagram. He had unblocked Y/n, only to scroll through the Instagram posts she made in the past three months. At first, he hadn't noticed the figure standing in his doorway. But as soon as his eyes landed on her, he knew it was Y/n. "Will?" "Yes, N/n?" "I thought... nevermind. It's stupid." "What is it?" Will sat up, turning off his phone. "Can I cuddle with you? I just need you." "Of course," Will nodded, patting the spot next to him in bed. "C'mon." Y/n climbed into bed, laying down on Will's chest. Will put his phone down, wrapping his arms around the girl laying down. After all this waiting, maybe he would be able to have his happy ending with her.

Will jumped at the sound of pounding. He glanced down, noticing the sleeping girl in his arms. So it wasn't a dream. His mind had been pulled away from Y/n when he heard the pounding for a second time. Slowly, he got out of bed, trying not to disturb Y/n. As soon as she was out of his grasp, Will made his way downstairs. The pounding got louder, someone was knocking on the door. When Will realized who was at the front door, he opened it. "Give her back, Lenney-" Everett had been interrupted by being pinned to the wall. "How dare you put your hands on such a sweet girl. Y/n didn't deserve any of the pain you put her through. I'm not gonna let that keep happening. Instead of stooping as low as you and resorting to assault, I'll be getting in contact with the police. Also, you might want to leave before someone calls security from how loud you've been." When Will had finished speaking, he had shoved Everett, shutting the door on him before he could have the final word. He waited for a minute, wanting to make sure Conway wouldn't bother to knock on his door for a second time. After being sure he wasn't going to try anything, Will turned to go upstairs, only to find Y/n standing there at the end on the staircase. "You weren't in bed when I woke up." "Sorry," Will sighed, approaching her. "I had to deal with something. Do you want to go out for breakfast?" "Breakfast sounds great." Within a week Y/n had divorced Everett, pressed charges against him for assault, and placed a restraining order on him. Just as she promised Will. Everyone was happy, except for the one person who didn't deserve happiness. When fans saw Will and Y/n were back to hanging out, they were excited. They had missed Y/n so much, people adored seeing they had reunited. Months after Y/n's divorce, Will had finally asked Y/n out. He didn't want to rush her into a new relationship after her last one was a dumpster fire. When Y/n was able to call Will her boyfriend, it seemed like everything was going right for once. Everything was perfect now, and that's how it'd stay.

#willne #will lenney #x reader #close my eyes #willne imagine #willne x reader #willne oneshot #willne fanfiction #will lenney imagine #will lenney x reader #will lenney oneshot #will lenney fanfiction #british commentary #british youtuber #british youtube #british commentary youtuber #british youtube commentary #commentary youtube #commentary youtuber #commentary youtubers #commentary crew #eboys420 oneshot #eboys420 imagine #eboys 420 #eboys420 #eboys420 x reader #eboys420 headcanon #eboys 420 imagine #eboys 420 x reader #eboys 420 oneshot