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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding On

Ch22: Driftwood

Summary: It’s Mary’s birthday and for the first time ever she requests a party. Meanwhile, Evelyn makes a decision and Frank isn’t entirely sure how he feels about it.

Warnings: Bad language, 18+, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: I have to a huge thanks to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for her input here! Have a biscuit, Ambi...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 21

May 2020

“So this,” Frank held up the item in his hand, showing it to Alex, “is a fuel pipe. Without this the engine gets no food. Something you should be able to relate to.”

Alex’s response was another loud gabble as he looked at his dad from his vantage point, sat in his little bouncer which placed on the deck of the boat to Frank’s left.

“Exactly, no food, no go.” Frank nodded, as he reached into the space, ducking down to get a closer look. He clamped the line into place before he shuffled out and stood up, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on as Alex peered up at him, his arms and legs waggling as he gave another shriek. “Yup, I reckon you’re right, Son. Time to give it a try.”

Checking that his hands and arms were clean enough, he unclipped Alex’s straps and gently placed him on his hip as he strode to the front of the boat, jangling the keys in his spare hand. Alex reached for them, making a cooing noise of interest and for a moment Frank let the baby curl his hand round the metal before hastily moving them away as Alex went to shove them in his mouth. As the baby let out a noise of protest, Frank jiggled him a little before successfully distracting him by holding him up above his head, bringing him down quickly to blow a raspberry on his cheek. With his son held safely against him with one arm, he stuck the keys in the ignition with his other and gave them a turn, letting out a triumphant noise as the engine fired up.

“I am a genius.” Frank looked down at Alex who beamed back, shrieking and Frank chuckled, kissing the tiny boy’s rosy cheek before he turned the key to cut the engine.

“You got it working, I see!”

Frank turned to see Fliss’ head appear over the side of the boat as she climbed the small set of ladders by the side and he grinned as she hopped onto the deck.

“Yup. Fuel line was blocked. Replaced it and bingo.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek as she gently brushed her hand over Alex’s head as he was now fisting his little hands into Frank’s rather grubby t-shirt. “He helped.”

“That right? You been helping your Daddy, Bean?” She beamed and Alex let out another string of nonsensical babble and she grinned, before she looked at Frank. “You’re filthy.”

Frank looked at his T-shirt before he bit his lip. “Shit, I didn’t realise. Here.” He made to pass Alex over but Fliss shook her head, frowning.

“Frank, it’s a bit of dirt, not like he’s eating it is he?” She looked at him, before she smirked. “Besides, that’s not why I mentioned it.”

Frank arched his eyebrow as she bit her lip, scanning him up and down, her eyes lingering on his tatty jeans for a second before she shook her head and looked back at his face.

“Down girl.” He quipped and she laughed.

“I’m just gonna sort his dinner, want me to take him?”

“Yeah, I’m done out here for the night.” Frank looked at her, passing Alex over. “I’ll just lock the garage up and be right in. You riding tonight?”

“No, I snuck in a quick one at lunchtime on Cap. Alex was down for his nap so I took advantage, parked him in the office and left him to it. Slept right through.”

“Yeah, we kinda lucked out a little with him there didn’t we?” Frank smiled. “He’s nothing like Mary, she was a pain in the ass to get to sleep. Still is.”

“Well, with a bit of luck he’ll go down easy tonight.” Fliss smiled, before she looked at Frank, a dirty little grin on her face. “Then so can you.”

“Oooh, Miss Gallagher you filthy, little minx.” Frank’s mouth curled up at one side as she laughed before she stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss.

“Glad to see you’re no longer cranky, Frankie.”

“I was not cranky.”

“Sailor, you exploded at Mary when she knocked a glass of water over.” Fliss looked at him, her face soft. “I’ve never seen you blow like that, Baby. Not over something so trivial.”

“In my defense, I had told her three times to stop messing around.”

“I know.” Fliss cocked her head to one side. “Just isn’t like you, that’s all.”

Frank dropped his head, letting out a heavy sigh, he knew shew as right. Work had really been stressing him out recently and unfortunately he’d taken it out on the very people he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.” He wrinkled his nose and Fliss shook her head.

“It’s fine, no lasting harm done.” With that she kissed him again and Frank’s hand giving her ass a quick squeeze as she turned to leave.

“Hey, can you manage?” He asked as he watched her grip the side of the steps in one hand, Alex held in her other arm.

“Yeah, I got it.” She made her way slowly down, before hitting the floor of the garage. “Don’t be too long, Sailor.”

“Like I said, locking up and be right in.” He smiled, watching her make her way out, chatting away to Alex as she went, Thor trotting at her heels.

Frank climbed down himself and then checked around the garage and workshop area, making sure his power tools were locked away before his eyes fell over the little shelf he’d made out of a piece of driftwood as a surprise for Fliss. She’d picked up Heidi’s ashes a week ago, which had been another tearful morning as she’d broken down again when she’d picked up the sleek, mahogany box with her beloved mare’s name engraved on the lid. The box was currently sat on her desk in the office at the stables, Fliss saying she didn’t really want it in the house as the yard had been Heidi’s home so she needed to be there. Later that evening, Frank and Mary had taken Thor down to the beach to collect some driftwood for their fire pit and they’d stumbled upon a particularly large, gnarled piece. Frank had instantly been struck with the idea to craft it into a shelf for Fliss, thinking it would make a nice feature upon which she could lay Heidi to rest for good, and the finished article was quite nice, even if he did say so himself. He’d managed to keep the character of it nicely, the edges remained rustic and the entire thing had come up beautifully when he’d applied the final coat of varnish the previous evening.

The builders had been there all afternoon, marking out the areas where the expansion to the yard was due to start on Monday, so he supposed tonight was as good a time as any to give it to her, to apologise for being so bad tempered over the last few weeks, and celebrate the launch of a new opportunity for her business in one go. He could put it up for her tomorrow when she decided where she wanted it to go. Tucking it under one arm, he stepped out of the garage, pulled the up and over door down before locking it and heading into the house.

Fliss was currently warming something up for Alex to eat and she turned to face him, frowning as she saw the shelf under his arm.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“It’s a shelf.” He smiled, setting it down on the kitchen island.

“Frank, it’s gorgeous!” Fliss smiled, her fingers trailing over the surface of it. “Did you make it?”

“I did.” He nodded. “Out of a piece of driftwood. I thought it would look nice in your office, somewhere for you to put Heidi.”

At his words she stilled, her head shooting up to look at him and she blinked as her eyes welled with tears. She glanced back down, before she looked up at him, and gave him a huge smile. “Oh, Frankie. I love it. Thank you so much.”

Frank smiled and opened his arms, and she moved round to fall into them, resting her cheek on his shirt. His large hands gently rubbed at her back as she sniffed and he dropped a kiss to her head. “You’re welcome, Sweetheart.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” She let out a little choked sob and Frank chuckled.

“I try.” He looked down, his hands cupping her face as he wiped away her tears, dropping a kiss to her lips. “If you decide where you want it I’ll put it up for you tomorrow.”

“I already know exactly where it’s going.” She smiled. “Could you move the one above my desk to the back wall and put that in its place? I want her right up there where she’s in prime position.”

“Sure, not a problem.” He assured her, giving her another kiss. “Was Mary okay when you dropped her at Roberta’s? She wasn’t upset or-“

“Upset, no. Raging about you being a, and I quote, ‘miserable, bad-tempered douchebag’, yes.”

Frank snorted and took a deep breath. “I’ll apologise tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it, I told her to cut you some slack. She gets it. I said you’d pick her up on the way back from the airport tomorrow morning. Everyone will be arriving for her party at one so she needs to be back here by at least midday. Roberta said she’d come too, give us a hand setting up.”

“Is there much to set up?” Frank asked. “I mean there’s only five of them coming.”

“Seven if you count the twins.” Fliss corrected. “But no, not really. Food is simple, just need to throw it on the grill. Mum’s got the cake done, snacks are sorted…just a case of setting the table outside and the music and stuff.”

“You know I think she’s more excited for the party than she was for her actual birthday.” Frank mused as Fliss pulled Alex’s dinner out of the microwave.

“Well, it’s her first party.” Fliss smiled, giving the cauliflower and haddock puree a stir.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d see the day she asked for one.” Frank continued to ponder, taking the dish that Fliss handed him, before he pulled a face looking at it. “This looks disgusting.”

“Well I’m not asking you to eat it.” Fliss narrowed her eyes at him and Frank raised his eyebrows.

“Good job.”

“Keep talking, Sailor and you’ll be wearing it.”

He gave a laugh, before he moved and sat down on the stool next to Alex’s high chair as the baby made grabby hands for the dish, noises of approval escaping his mouth as Frank held out the first spoonful to him. Fliss watched them for a moment before she smiled, and moved behind Frank, dropping a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll ring our order through for dinner, you fancy Thai or Italian tonight?”

“You choose.” Frank replied, his concentration fully on feeding his son and Fliss squeezed his shoulders, before she picked up her phone and rang the Thai place, knowing full well Frank would prefer that, even though she was in the mood for Italian.

*****

For the first time in weeks, Frank felt fully relaxed that evening. He wasn’t going into the shop that weekend, having put his foot down and said not a chance given it was Mary’s party. They’d eaten a fabulous take-out, drank a few beers and now they were sat together in his favourite place, outside in their garden around the fire pit, under the stars whilst their son was sleeping soundly upstairs.

“You know, I do love how it sometimes burns blue.” Fliss smiled as she snuggled further into him.

“Yeah, it’s to do with the salt, I think.” Frank shrugged, his fingers tracing shapes on her upper arm. ”Sure Mary would be able to tell you if you asked her.”

“Sure she would.” Fliss chuckled. “Along with a detailed explanation of exactly what chemical compounds are involved, or the fact that the moon being in a certain position to Venus means it glows a different shade of blue or some other random shit like that…” Frank burst out laughing, pulling her closer. “I don’t know how she remembers half the shit she does.”

“Diane was the same.” Frank mused. “A goldmine for trivia. She was great for Quiz Nights.”

“You do it too.” Fliss sat up and looked at him.

“I don’t.”

“You so do.” She scoffed.

“Not as bad as Mary.”

“Hmm, hey, maybe that’s what we need to do next time they have a Quiz at Ferg’s. Smuggle Mary in and hide her under the table.”

“I doubt she’d stay there.” Frank pulled a face and Fliss shoved him in his chest, causing him to snigger again.

“Dick!”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Sweetheart.” He winked as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I love you.” She muttered against his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

“How much?”

Biting her lip she arched her eyebrow and snatched his beer off him, placing it on the table along with her glass of wine before she moved, straddling him, her bare thighs falling either side of his. Bending down she kissed him deeply, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her in closer. He let his lips dance across hers before she pulled back a little, looking at him.

“That much.”

“Yeah, not sure I got it…” He chuckled, pulling her back to him as he kissed her again, this time only parting when her hands wrapped in the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging at it until he moved to allow her to drag it off. He took advantage of the moment, dragging her cami over her top, letting out a soft groan as the sight of her bare in front of him. He dropped his head, kissing and nuzzling at her breasts, Fliss’ fingers digging into his hair to hold him close.

“Got it now?” She grinned as she pushed down, rubbing her sleep short clad core into his groin, making him hiss at the feeling, his dick growing hard through the constraints of the sweats he was wearing.

“Not quite…” He teased, nipping at her neck. Fliss giggled as he went back to her breasts, hands cupping them, squeezing gently before his mouth gently covered a nipple. As he gently flicked the hardening nub with his tongue she gave a little squeak of delight.

“I mean… If you really don’t get it, Adler…” she panted out slightly, “then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.”

“Well, you always tell my brains are in my dick.” He growled a bit, giving her chest a gentle bite, and Fliss arched herself into his mouth, hissing at the way the slight pain and pleasure mixed. His arm tightening around her, Frank lifted them both up off the cushion to lay her down on her back on the outside couch and took a chance to look over her, his eyes traveling down her bare torso, before his mouth followed suit, his beard scratching her skin slightly, mouth cooling the delectable burn as he went.

Fliss rolled herself up into him, enjoying the feel of his relatively firm torso against the softness of hers, allowing herself to get lost in the feeling as she bit her lip and tipped her head back against the arm of the wicker sofa, enjoying being in her man’s care. Frank’s gently gripped at the sleep shorts she was wearing, before he slipped them down her toned legs before he pushed his sweats down, kicking them to the floor.

He moved to a kneel, one hand gently hooking Fliss’ left leg up to rest against the back of the couch, her other leg falling automatically to the floor, toes pressing onto the smooth sandstone flags, leg bent at the knee. Frank took another moment to look at her as his hands rubbed against her inner thighs, taking her in from her toned shoulders and arms, right down to the gently curve of her hips. There wasn’t a single bit of this woman that he wasn’t achingly in love with.

Sliding his hands up and around, he gripped at those hips and shifted her slightly making sure she was where he wanted her.

“You know, Frank…” Fliss, looked up at him, and her deep brown eyes flashed in amusement, as she watched her fiance appreciate her body, and she could feel a flush rising pink up her neck, into her cheeks. The way he looked at her, like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen still made her a little bashful at times. “If brains were dynamite, then, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your pants off.”

“Oh, really?” Frank leaned forward, kissing her lips, and down her neck as she laughed, his fingers drifting along her curves till they dipped between her spread thighs and slipped along her folds, causing her got gasp. “Never heard you complain before.” He braced a hand next to her head, as she starting to wriggle from where expert fingers teased her slick. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Shut up…” She groaned as she arched up into him, pushing against his hand.

“You started this, Sweetheart.” His fingers picked up their pace and he watched as she writhed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged pants, her fingers digging into his biceps, soft whimpers of his name leaving her mouth in a staccato chant. “You wanna think about what you just said?”

“You’re not using your…fuck!” She cried, as his fingers stretched her open, gliding and rubbing against her walls which clenched with need around his digits. “-dick, you…oh, God!”

“Nope, not yet.” He agreed, dropping his head so he could reach her breasts, a pull of his teeth on a nipple drew out another cry from her. “But I’m not sure I’m gonna need to.”

His fingers moved even faster, Fliss quivering, her whole body rubbing against his, panting as she glanced down at him, his blue eyes peeking up at her, twinkling with desire and mischief. “Frankie, please, I gotta…”

His lips wrapped around the other nipple, sucking and working his teeth around it before he pulled away, the muscles in his back and shoulders shifting as he arched up once more watching her. “Let go, Lissy.”

The heat in her stomach flooded her and she arched up off the cushions, a loud moan rolling from her throat as Frank felt her clamping down round his fingers, as her eyes flickered shut, her legs twitching. Frank leaned over to kiss her, deeply, as he slotted himself between her thighs, grinding down into her. Kisses flowed into soft bites of skin while Frank arched his hips up enough to slide his cock between her folds, and once he found her entrance, he pressed into her heat, burying into exactly where he wanted to be the most, forehead pressed against her own, breath mingling as both panted through the initial hit of sensations that coursed through their veins.

“You okay, Baby?” Frank looked down at her and Fliss nodded, tipping up to press her lips against his, tugging on his full bottom lip, nudging her nose against his.

“Better than okay” She rolled her hips once more against his, the shift in angle making her tighter, driving Frank crazy to feel her fluttering around him. Pulling his hips back he thrust deeply into her, causing her shudder.

“I can tell.” He grunted as he started to move himself, the thrust of his hips moving her slightly with each drive forward. Shifting to his elbows on either side of her head, Fliss immediately wrapped her leg from around the couch over his hip, rocking up to meet him.

“Oh, fuck, Frank!” The change in angle hit her deep and just right as he reached down and grabbed under her other knee, bringing that leg around his hips too before he fisted a hand in her hair, tipping her head back and dragging a swipe of his tongue up her neck. He kissed that sweet spot just behind her ear, once more dragging his name out of her in a chant, as he slowed his movements down, his hips now driving slow and deep. But her hands dragged down to his back, nails digging into the bunched muscles he was using to monitor his speed and she grabbed at him.

“No Sailor… I want you to fuck me.”

Frank gave a little groan as he moved to look at her and found her eyes challenging him. Fuck, he loved it when she got all fucking horny and needy.

“Oh, Cowgirl…” He smirked, shifting his chest across hers and pulling away, propping himself up above her as both his hands fisted in her hair to hold her down. “. “You better hold on to something.”

Her eyes flashed and then without warning he began snapping his hips forward and back with a brutal pace as he dragged himself back and forth from her fluttering channel.

It was so quick that Fliss screamed out, a vague thankful feeling crossing her addled brain about how she was suddenly glad they had no near neighbours, but all thoughts disappeared as soon as they flashed into her mind as she felt her eyelids flutter shut as she could feel nothing but how thick he was inside her, the constant pounding left her trying to keep up with his furious fucking, and she was failing, big time.

Her eyes opened and her entire gaze was filled with nothing but Frank, a wide chest with its spattering of dark hair drove her crazy, to the straining shoulders that gave him the leverage to shift his body in every way to claim her. And then his face, that handsome face she knew from memory, his sharp, bearded jaw was tight, those baby blue eyes burning into hers as his face hovered inches from hers, all his focus on her and only her.

It was driving her crazy.

Frank was just as swamped with the sensations. He enjoyed making love to his girl but he also enjoyed the faster, carnal fucking too. There was a darker side to him that enjoyed being able to use his size to claim her how he wanted and give her what she needed and since their weekend in Vermont, he knew he could do exactly that without fear anymore.

"Fuck…“ he growled out as he rutted into her, feeling her clench as he hit a particularly toe-curling spot deep inside her and her mouth dropped wide in a loud gasp. He was angled just right, and she dragged her nails down his back, urging him to keep hitting it, which he did, rotating his hips, making her groan and her whole body arch into him.

Frank kept going, relentless, hard, demanding, claiming. Fliss tightened her legs around him, her, hands scrambling along his back, and her head fell back against the arm of the couch again, and Frank heard her signature cry, a whispered, garbled tangle of words falling from her lips as, her whole body locked around him before with a loud, guttural cry of his name she came, hard.

Frank dropping himself enough to press his forehead against hers as she cried underneath him, his lips pressing to hers, swallowing her cries. He slowed his thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm, but he wasn’t that far from his, it was simmering and he was teetering on that edge that he knew he was going to fall over soon. There was a slight stutter to his hips as he grained speed again, grinding into her until her clenching body was too much and with a gasp of a name and a dirty grunt he spilled into her, jolting to a stop after several erratic thrusts, sinking down over her as Fliss pressed her face into his neck, breathing in deeply.

After a moment, she eased her limbs from around him, her foot sliding down the back of his thigh and calf, humming softly post-orgasm, she leaned up, nibbling on Frank’s neck, and he gave a soft hum of delight as she nipped at his jaw.

“Maybe you could blow your boxers off. At a push.” She mumbled cheekily, and Frank laughed, his mouth claiming hers, if for no other reason other than to shut her up.

*****

Even if they’d had chance to lie in the next morning, which thanks to their son was not an option, they couldn’t have. Fliss was up early, the excitement in the house at the fact they were hosting Mary’s first birthday party was infectious, and Frank found himself getting swept up in it too. This was all he’d ever wanted for Mary, and the fact she’d actually requested a party in the first place had almost reduced him to tears.

By the time nine in the morning rolled by, the balloons were blown up and scattered about the place, banners had been hung and the music system was ready to go outside. With a quick kiss goodbye, Frank headed off to go and pick his mother up from the airport, before driving back down to their old estate to pick up a very hyper active Mary, and a slightly less bouncy Roberta.

Mary was overjoyed with the decorations, hugging Fliss and thanking her over and over again, and then the time seemed to fly by with her best friend Rosie arriving first, along with her parents who once more asked Fliss and Frank if they were sure the little girl was okay to stay the evening too. Fliss waved away their concern and asked if they’d like to stay for a while, an offer which they rather hastily declined and Frank snorted a little as Rosie’s dad gave him a wink when he told Frank they had ‘plans’.

By two, the pool party was in full swing, Steve, Frank and Bill overseeing seven kids as they dived in and out of the pool, jumping on and off inflatables as the music played in the background. Frank glanced around, watching as Fliss bustled about the garden, Alex perched on her hip as she laughed at something Roberta had said before she nodded and passed Alex over to the woman who beamed at him as he grabbed at her large beaded necklace.

“Frank?”

He spun to face his mother who smiled at him, her large sun hat shading her face. She held up the empty bottle in her hand. “Me and Verity appear to have finished this Sancerre. Do you mind if-“

“You’ve sunk a bottle by two in the afternoon, shame on you.” He gave a lout tut and his mother simply arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, well having children turned me into a raging alcoholic.” She stated matter of factly and Frank snorted.

“Touche, well, help yourself, you know where it all is.” He jerked his head towards the kitchen. “You don’t need to keep asking for things whilst you’re here, you know.”

“No, I know. But I was kind of hoping to talk to you actually.” Evelyn looked at him. “Come with me.”

“Oh?” He frowned, tossing a glance back at Fliss before he followed Evelyn into the house. He reached into the fridge, pulled out another chilled bottle of wine before he set it on the counter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I just…well, I’ve come to a decision about something, and I wanted to run it past you first.”

“Okay.” He watched her as she cleared her throat.

“I’ve decided to sell the house.” She stated and Frank watched her, having a feeling he knew exactly what was coming next. “And I’m going to buy and apartment. Here.”

“Right.” Frank looked at her, his face passive.

“And one in Boston.”

“Two apartments?”

“One plus one was two last time I checked, yes.” Evelyn’s mouth twitched at the corner and Frank rolled his eyes. “I thought I could spend the winters here and the summers in Boston. That way, it would only be for six months a year. Sure even we could survive being in the same state as one another for that long.”

“Sounds like you got it all planned out.”

"I want my grandchildren to know me, Frank. I already missed out on so much with Mary, and yes, before you say anything, that was my own fault, but I don’t want to miss out on any more.”

“And you won’t, I’ve told you-“

“Well, clearly I am because I missed the fact that Mary was now calling Fliss mom.”

Frank took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest, “I thought we’d been through this. You said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It isn’t, I just…well, I wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s on me.” Frank looked at her, his expression softening slightly. He hadn’t really considered what effect it would have on his mother, hearing Mary call someone other than Diane her mom, but then again, why would he? Evelyn had never seen Diane with Mary after all, it never even crossed his mind that it would upset her. “I should have warned you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Evelyn shook her head. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting it that’s all.”

There was a pause and Frank took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve told you before. I want you to have a relationship with the kids, and, well, if you feel moving nearer to us is gonna help that then…” He trailed off giving a little shrug.

“So you wouldn’t object to me moving closer?”

“What would be the point of that?” He asked, passing her the bottle of wine. “You’d do it regardless.”

“Yes, I would.” Evelyn stated simply before she took the bottle from him. Frank gave her a small smile which she returned before she moved to leave, greeting Fliss who had just walked into the kitchen.

“Did I just interrupt something?” She frowned.

“No.” Frank shook his head, watching his mother leave. As soon as she was out of earshot he gave a groan and pulled a beer from the fridge. “She just told me she wants to sell the house and buy two apartments. One in Boston and one here.”

“Oh.” Fliss frowned, cocking her head to the side. “But, that’s…fine. I mean, you and your mom get on okay now, so-”

“Yeah, we do.” Frank nodded, taking a huge pull from his bottle, swallowing his beer. “Because she’s in Boston and I’m not.”

Fliss gave a chuckle and slipped her arms round his waist. “Stop being a little shit, Frank. I hate to point it out but it makes sense. She’s not getting any younger and if anything happens she’s a three hour flight away, as we saw when Mary was taken ill.”

“Why do you always have to be so fucking sensible?” Frank narrowed his eyes at her and she grinned, shrugging.

“I’m not, I can just see it from her point of view. But hey, look on the bright side. If she’s told you, it gives you a perfect excuse to help her look for somewhere. Tampa’s not a bad area, and it’s a forty or so minute drive away…”

“Oh, now who’s being a little shit?” He laughed as he dropped a kiss to Fliss’ lips.

She chuckled and pulled back, looking at him. “Anyway, parking that for now, the kids are getting hungry. Can you we fire up the grill and I’ll get the sides and stuff out?”

“Sure.” Frank smiled, before he kissed her again and headed outside, grabbing Steve’s collar as he went, roping him into helping.

Half an hour later kids and adults alike were sat around munching burgers, hot dogs and various other items Fliss had dotted out on the tables at the side of the garden. Frank was stood drinking a beer as he watched Steve flop down next to Sian on the seat round the table the adults had settled at, gently rubbing his hand over her little bump, giving her a quick kiss. Frank smiled, thinking back to how it didn’t seem like five minutes since he’d been doing the same to Fliss.

“Not sending you broody is it, Son?”

Frank turned to look at Bill who nodded to Steve and Frank scoffed. “Nope. Two is quite enough for us, thanks.”

Bill laughed. “Exactly what Fliss said, well, not exactly. Her phrase included the words ‘fuck off, Dad’ but the sentiment was the same.”

Frank laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, we’re both agreed, thankfully.” He smiled, his eyes flicking to Alex who was perched on his mother’s knee, as she sat chatting to Verity.

“I had a nosey up at the yard before.” Bill took a swig from his bottle. “Looks like they’re all ready to start. Must be a relief that they’re finally getting going.”

“To be honest, Bill, I’ve not been as involved with it all as I’d like.” Frank bit his lip. “I mean I’ve been over the plans and keep checking the costs and stuff but as far as actively being involved in organising anything.” He let out a deep sigh. “I know I should have stepped up a little more.”

“Hey don’t worry!” Bill smiled. “We got it covered.”

“I know and I’m grateful but I just, well this is our future you know? Her business, our property and land and I kinda feel a little...”

“Left out?”

Frank wrinkled his nose. “Not left out as such. Not in control is the best way to describe it, I suppose.”

“We talking about the building work now or life in general?”

Frank snorted, it unnerved him how easily his future father in law could read him. “That obvious, huh?”

“A little, plus Fliss says you’ve been mad busy at the shop.”

“I thought it would have died down by now.” Frank shrugged. “But we seem to be getting bigger and bigger and, it’s just not what I had in mind when I went to work there. And I know, I’m grateful but I kinda miss when things were simpler, you know?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t really sound like I’m very ambitious does it? Most people would kill to be in my position.”

“Look, management and running a business isn’t for everyone. If it was, the world would hardly tick over the way it does, would it?” Bill said wisely. “Have you talked to James?”

Frank shook his head. “I honestly don’t know what I’d say.”

“Well, what do you want to happen?”

“I miss the repairs.” Frank said, honestly. “I enjoyed it when I was running the workshop. It was a good mix between management and still being able to get my hands dirty when I wanted to.”

“Tell him that then.”

“Not that simple, we got a new guy running that side of things now. Plus it would be a drop in wages.”

“Do you need the money?”

“Not especially, Fliss brings in a fair packet and it wouldn’t be a bad income at all. But I like the security.”

“Well in that case don’t let that be a factor in your decision. Trading off a higher standard of living versus job satisfaction is a mistake I’ve seen a lot of people make in the past, Frank. It doesn’t end well as they become miserable and resent their choices.” Bill paused. “Have you not thought about going back into repairs full time, like working for yourself again?”

Frank shook his head. “No. The security which comes with this job is too big a pull to give up. Especially now there’s four of us to consider.”

“You could make it secure if you did it properly.” Bill looked at him. “Set yourself up as an independent business but get a unit on one of the Marinas. Yeah, they’ll take a cut, but you’re pretty much guaranteed work and it comes with most of the perks but you’ll manage your own time.” Frank looked at him as Bill smiled. “Might be a bit of work at first to get yourself back in the game so to speak but I can help with the practicalities of setting out on your own. Fliss has an excellent accountant plus I hear you know a pretty good lawyer.”

Frank smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Just think it over. If you need the money to set up you know me and V will help out. Plus, the beauty of it is Frank, you have a job to keep you going whilst you make your decision. It ain’t a bad place to be when you think about it.”

“Thanks Bill, I’ll give it some thought.”

***** The party filtered out at about five, and their family stayed around for a little while until they too left a couple of hours later. Mary hugged Fliss and then Frank tightly, thanking them both for ‘the best birthday party ever’, Frank not bothering to point out that the sum total she had held or attended didn’t give her much to go on. He was simply happy she’d enjoyed herself.

They managed to get the two girls to bed in Mary’s room at a ridiculously late hour, so when Frank woke the next morning he wasn’t surprised to find them both fast asleep still when he poked his head into the room. He was surprised, however, to find his bed empty. Sundays were normally their lazy mornings, none of them really bothering to get up until they had to, Alex often coming into their room for a few hours. But today, it was barely gone nine and Fliss was up and fully dressed in denim shorts and a baggy fitting t-shirt.

“Morning, Honey.” He greeted her with a soft kiss. “You’re up early?”

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” She shrugged, before her face wrinkled up and she swallowed, rubbing at her stomach.

“You okay?” Frank frowned, his hands gently running up and down her arms. “You sick?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head. “I came on a few days early and it’s fucking excruciating for some reason. Hasn’t been this bad since I had Alex.”

“Oh, Baby!” Frank pouted and with an exaggerated fake chuckle-slash-sob she pressed her forehead to his chest and he smiled, wrapping his arms round her, kissing her head.

“My ovaries are trying to kill me.” She whined and Frank chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Not really, other than give me lots of sympathy and pretend you know what I’m going through.”

“Think I can manage that.”

Together they made breakfast, Evelyn joining them and Fliss took care to leave enough batter to feed the girls with when they finally surfaced at half past ten. Frank then let them head back out to the pool for another hour or so before he dropped Rosie off home and swung by the store for some snacks which he knew would keep Fliss satisfied for the afternoon and hopefully help keep her killer womb at bay.

They all settled down for the afternoon on the sun-loungers outside, the lazy Sunday bleeding into the evening, as they dipped in an out of the pool before it was time to sort dinner, which consisted mainly of left over party food, Frank grilling the remaining burgers and sausages that hadn’t been eaten at the party. Once that was over, Evelyn asked if she could take Alex’s bath time. Fliss handed him over with a smile, whilst Frank headed upstairs to make sure his mother knew where everything was. Once he was bathed and put down for the evening, Evelyn retired back to the guest house and Mary retreated to her den to watch one of her new DVDs, leaving Frank and Fliss to curl up on their sofa, settling in for another binge watching session, this time making their way through The Witcher.

As Fliss shifted again, trying to ease a particularly nasty cramp in her stomach, Frank glanced at her, frowning a little.

“Have you taken some more painkillers?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, stretching her legs out. “Just haven’t kicked in yet.”

“What hasn’t?” Mary asked as she walked past the sofa from her den, heading to the fridge.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Frank replied, not even looking at her.

“Are you on your period?” Mary asked bluntly and Fliss glanced at Frank who looked at her, blinking, before they both turned their heads to look at her over the back of the sofa as he closed the fridge, juice box in her hand.

“How the hell do you know about that stuff? You’re ten!” Frank stared at her and she shrugged, moving back towards them.

“I read about it when I looked up where babies came from.”

“You looked up where babies come from?” Fliss repeated, her voice controlled as she was trying to supress the laughter bubbling in her throat.

“I was curious, Mom. Wanted to know how you made Alex.”

“Jesus Christ.” Frank groaned, as Fliss let out a snort. “I clearly need to increase the level of Parental Control on your laptop and tablet.”

“No you don’t because it didn’t let me google it, so I had to find it in a book in the library.” She said matter of factly as she paused by the back of the sofa, fixing them both with a look. “And, for the record, I think it’s totally disgusting what you did. But, now you have him, you don’t need to do it again. That is unless you decide you want another and-“

“No, you’re absolutely right.” Frank cut her off, his face serious. “It’s totally gross. I’m so relived I will never have to go through that torture ever again.”

Fliss couldn’t look at him, she had to turn away, the expression on his face was utterly dead-pan. She pressed her lips together, scrunching her face up as she tried desperately to stop the laughter exploding from her mouth.

“God knows what Uncle Steve and Sian think they’re doing, having another one.” Mary grumbled.

“Well, your Grandmother had two.” Frank pointed out, and Fliss slapped his thigh, in a desperate attempt to make him stop. His lips quirked at the sides ever so slightly before he straightened his face once more as Mary looked back at him.

“I suppose, but you were the eldest so she clearly thought she needed to try again after having you, you know, make it right.”

At that the laughter Fliss had been supressing burst from her mouth as her shoulders shook and she tipped her head back, roars of laughter filling the room.

“Well,” Frank looked at Mary, “you’re technically our eldest so…”

“Yeah but you adopted me, therefore you chose me.”

“Well, not really as you were kinda already here.” Frank teased.

“Yeah but you chose to be my parents, not just my uncle and his wife.”

“That’s true.” Frank nodded.

“So, that clearly makes me special.”

“Oh, you’re special alright.” Frank agreed, his face serious.

Mary grinned as she flounced back off to her den, shutting the door behind her. As soon as it clicked shut, Frank look at Fliss, who was now bright red from the force of her laughter, tears pouring down her face and he too began to laugh.

“Fucking hell.” He shook his head as Fliss wiped her eyes. “I can’t with that kid!”

“She’s hilarious, I love her.” Fliss chuckled. ”And you- I’m so relieved I will never have to go through that torture ever again, liar, much?”

Frink grinned, his arm curling round her shoulders, pulling her to him as she snuggled into his side. “Well, sex is dirty. But only when it’s done right.”

Fliss snorted. “And of course we do it right, Sailor.”

“Damned straight we do.” He leaned back against the sofa, pressing a kiss to her head.

“So, are you gonna tell Alex sex is dirty and gross?”

Frank hesitated, before he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Fliss was getting at. “You know, of course we will properly talk to Mary when she’s older and starts to get interested in dating, Fliss.”

“Careful there, Sailor. You’ll give yourself whiplash backtracking that fast.”

“I’m not backtracking."

“Course not.” Fliss wrinkled her nose sarcastically and Frank groaned.

“Look, can we stop talking about when she’s...” He waved his hand and gave a shudder. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Face it Frankie, it’s probably gonna happen sooner than later. You got to be prepared.” Fliss looked at him, her lips twitching at the corners. “I mean, you wanted her to have a normal life. Dating is part of that."

“Are you gonna shut up, or am I gonna have to make you?” Frank turned to Fliss, dropping his head a little so his nose was mere inches from hers,

“Thought that was like gross.” She teased. “And besides I’m on.”

“You know, I have heard that orgasms are supposed to help with cramps.” Frank shifted a little, his lips gently brushing her neck. “Could always do it in the shower,” he nipped at her skin. “No mess, no fuss.”

“I showered before and besides,” Fliss pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to stop his teasing bites to her neck, “it’s a known fact that a woman’s entire sexual reproductive system grows teeth in shark week.” Frank blinked before he gave a snort of laughter as Fliss shrugged. “Well, it feels like my womb is trying to eat its way out so…”

“There’s somewhere else I could shove it to keep you quiet.” Frank grinned and Fliss scoffed.

“Yeah that’s got teeth too, Sailor, and I ain’t afraid to use ‘em.” She laughed and gave him a gentle kiss. “But only when you ask nicely.”

Frank gave a groan against her mouth. “You’re killing me, Lissy!”

“Aww, I got you all worked up Sailor?”

“Yes.” He answered bluntly.

“Shame Mary’s in the den, I could have fixed that for you.”

Frank looked at her, before his head whipped round over his shoulder. “Mary! Go to bed!”

Fliss slapped his arm, laughing as Mary pulled open the door to her den and glared at him. “It isn’t even nine yet!”

“He’s joking.” Fliss looked at her.

“No I’m not.” Frank deadpanned and Mary rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Dad.” And with that she disappeared again, the door shutting behind her.

Frank groaned as he lay his head back, shifting slightly, trying to relieve the strain at the front of his jeans. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Fliss smirked to herself. She loved how she could get him worked up simply by using her words, it was a fucking huge turn on.

“You know, I’m sure I just heard Alex upstairs.”

“What?” Frank turned his attention to her.

“Yeah, I best go check on him,” she looked at Frank, “you know, upstairs,” she bit her lip, “and it might take me five minutes or so.”

With a puzzled expression Frank watched her go before he turned his attention to the baby monitor. On the small screen he saw Alex was sleeping soundly. He frowned, Fliss had no reason to be-

Oh. Oh

With a grin he stood up. “Mary just gotta nip upstairs for a moment. If you need us just, well, just wait.”

And with that he shot after Fliss, taking the stairs two at a time.

****

Chapter 23

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #frank adler x oc #frank adler smut #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

kings of the southside: CHAPTER 2

The storefronts on the block were different now— fragile minimalist displays and organic coffee shops uprooting the aged wooden bar signs with peeling paint and bullet holes— but against all odds, and with everyone else moving on, he and Mickey had decided to stay.

(a canon divergent fic in which ian and mickey stay on the southside and take over the alibi)

read chapter 2 here on ao3, or below the cut! (see notes on ao3 for various credits)

The end of the first weekend of them running the Alibi came quickly, and with it came Mickey’s focus being pulled in a million goddamn directions; they still had to unpack all of their shit upstairs, still had to figure out inventory and restock the bar and balance the books. Between all of the swirling and circling tasks Mickey felt like his head was going to explode, a sharp shift after the smooth waters of doing fuck-all for the past few months before the weed security business took off and he’d been forced to snap back into business mode.

Ian had bounced back from that first Saturday night of running the bar, the slump relaxing and fading out of his shoulders, and he was chipper as ever all Sunday afternoon, constantly grabbing at Mickey’s waist and singing fucking songs in his ear as they brushed elbows while pouring beers beside each other at the bar. As always, Ian fucking sunshine Gallagher’s mood seemed to have some sort of trickle-down effect on Mickey on Sunday, despite Mickey’s best efforts to not be a love-crazed loon. So even though they had a million things to do for Ian’s 80s night bullshit and Mickey had every reason to be stressed, he found himself fucking whistling when he rinsed the dishes behind the bar on Sunday night, and Tommy started giving him shit— and Mickey realized that he didn’t think there was a time he’d remembered whistling, ever, in his goddamn life.

He couldn’t really help it; Ian was radiating this new, breezy energy that Mickey still hadn’t had the time to feel the past few months, with all the bullshit going on with Terry and his family next door that set his teeth on edge— but now Ian was melting into their new life, acting settled, acting like he didn’t have a goddamn care in the world and everything was all figured out. And Mickey started to realize, in the fuzzy back corners of his brain, that maybe, just maybe— he could start to feel that way about their new gig at the Alibi and their new place, too.

They didn’t have to run from anything anymore.

Mickey practically couldn’t believe his ears the other week when Ian had willingly accepted custody of the Alibi with a too-relaxed air of nonchalance, with a well, maybe Mick and I could take it off your hands, on one of their final days scarfing down sugary cereal in the late hours of the morning in the Gallagher house kitchen. There was no way Gallagher was being serious about this— Ian was always talking about going somewhere, about being something bigger than he was, so there was no way he was offering to Kev that they would take over his dump of a bar. Except he definitely was— and for a sharp and splintering instant Mickey was worried Ian was saying this for him; that once again, he was holding Ian Gallagher back.

But Mickey had felt Ian’s warm palm resting on his leg under the kitchen table— and he’d seen the warmth, that fucking warmth that always heated Mickey’s insides, as Ian turned to him with his eyebrows raised in a question, in a wordless proposition— and once again it struck Mickey like a goddamn lightning bolt just how much Ian Gallagher loved him, if he looked this blissed out about the prospect of living in a shitty Southside apartment and running an even shittier bar with Mickey Milkovich for the rest of his days.

Mickey knew part of Ian doing this was for him, after all the Westside bullshit that Mickey had resisted at every turn. Mickey knew he’d lost his shit when he made that yuppie poodle lady rip their lease to shreds, but could anyone blame him? The few hours they’d spent at the apartment complex made Mickey feel like he was going to crawl out of his fucking skin, like the glares of everyone he passed by in the too-clean, air-freshened hallways made him itch from the inside out. There was no fucking way he could stay in a place like that. But he was going to try, if Ian wanted.

But with a simple sentence, with a simple maybe Mick and I could take it off your hands spoken into the dusty kitchen of the Gallagher house, Mickey was saved. This Alibi plan pulled them both above water, gave them both a shore to rest on— and now they were finally, finally on the same fucking page, after figuratively (and literally) butting heads about the future for so long.

So now they were here, and they were doing it, and it was scary as fuck. Mickey had never lived in a place so quiet, a small space so devoid of the press of other people screeching and fighting and leaving trails of clutter, and he knew that Ian hadn’t either; both of their childhood homes were always crawling with various drunks or Russian prostitutes or batshit crazy relatives, and the silence of their too-small studio, in the morning hours before the bar was opened downstairs, was deafening.

Mickey could feel his jaw start to clench as he laid twisted in the sheets on Monday morning, when Ian had gone for a run and Mickey was left in the apartment alone for an hour and it was quiet, too quiet— but instantly the boisterous noise of the Southside streets had started to flow just outside the open window, a cacophony of honking horns and shouted slurs and gunshots, and the trickling in of the sounds tickled Mickey’s scalp, and reminded him that he was still rooted— he was still home.

And then Ian came clomping up the stairs like a sweaty monster after his run and tackled Mickey into the mattress, flopping onto him like a fucking Saint Bernard—and Mickey remembered why they did this, why this was good for both of them.

Against every single one of Mickey’s instincts, against everything he’d always known— he was going to let himself have this.

Ian’s brows were furrowed, a pressed series of creases narrowed in focus, as he stared at the paint swatches with a too-sharp glare.

“Mick, I really don’t see the fucking difference between Charcoal Gray and Burnt Ember.”

Mickey huffed, snatching the series of paint swatches out of his hand. “Nevermind then. You’ve got no eye for this shit, Gallagher. Charcoal Gray has cool undertones, Burnt Ember has a warmer vibe. We’ve definitely gotta go with Burnt Ember, the lighting in this place is shit and I wanna make sure the kitchen has a good ambiance.”

Ian’s lips curved into a smile of disbelief, rolling his eyes. Annoying motherfucker. “They both look like gray to me.”

Mickey flashed a grin in reply, then swatted Ian’s chest with the remaining paint swatches he was holding. “It’s a good thing you’re good at manual labor. If we wanna have this place painted by Wednesday, we’ve gotta get moving.”

“On it. Lip’s coming by with the paint for the main room and the wallpaper stuff, too.”

And just then, there was a gentle tap at the door. “Ey, it’s me and Liam.”

Ian bounded across the room to pull the paint-chipped door open. “Speak of the devil.”

Lip strode into their shithole apartment carrying cans of paint and a wrench clenched between his fingers, Liam trailing behind him.

“Damn. It’s only been two days and I already forgot what a dump this place is.”

Ian shoved Lip’s shoulder. “Fuck you. If you can renovate our shitty house, fixing this place up should be a piece of cake.”

Mickey noticed Liam scanning the room— in a fit of annoyance the other morning, with the bright fucking sun streaming in because they hadn’t gotten curtains yet with the bar pulling focus downstairs, Mickey had sliced a black trashbag and pinned it to the window as a makeshift curtain. Liam’s eyes lingered on the hanging trashbag, and he raised a judgmental eyebrow at Mickey.

“Love what you’ve done with the place.”

Ian chuckled. “Yeah, Mick’s a real interior designer.”

Liam just sighed. “You guys need all the help you can get.”

Mickey’s brows furrowed. “Fuck you both. That was a temporary solution.” He walked over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer, just so he had something to do.

Ian grinned again, then reached out to ruffle Liam’s hair. “How’s the new place, superstar?”

Liam shrugged nonchalantly. “I like it. I just hung up all of my posters. Added a bit of vibrancy to the color palette that Tami chose to paint my room.”

Ian smirked, and nodded a head towards Mickey, who was standing by the fridge and fumbling with his beer bottle. “You should talk to Mickey about color palettes—we’ve been arguing for the last half hour about what shade of gray to paint the kitchen. Something about cool and warm undertones?”

Liam turned to examine the kitchenette in the back of the studio, hand on his hips. “Definitely warm undertones in a small space like this, unless you get some updated light fixtures.

Ian grinned. “Damn. Guess I really do have two interior designers in my family.”

Liam smiled back, his eyes lighting up. “You need any other advice? Mickey, I’d love to hear what unified aesthetic you’re aiming for with the décor.”

The rest of the afternoon was filled with the rhythm of smooth paint rollers sliding against the wall, the old radio in the corner of the room (that had probably been there for decades) turned to a low hum— Liam and Lip helped them shuffle through their belongings in the trash bags, moving the mattress to the center of the room and not even bothering to cover the already-stained hardwood floors with a drop cloth before they coated the studio’s walls in thick layers of paint.

Mickey and Liam were tackling the kitchen, priming the walls in a comfortable silence. Frank’s death had hit Liam pretty hard, and Mickey could only imagine how fucked up it was, to have all the heaviness and all those complicated clumps of emotion that came with Terry dying inside you when you were only a kid— losing a shitty father was almost harder than losing a good one.

But Liam seemed enthusiastic about helping with the renovation efforts— he covered the walls dutifully in multiple coats of primer, ran to the corner store to pick up canned pints of “Burnt Ember,” and even offered Mickey advice on various wallpaper swatches for a feature wall in the studio (which Mickey actually appreciated, because he was still learning all this shit and fuck if he knew what a “feature wall” was or how to make it look good). Liam also gave his review of the various pieces of furniture Mickey had circled in an Ikea catalogue with a black Sharpie. Mickey was flipping through the catalogue, Liam methodically painting a final coat of paint in the kitchen beside him in a comfortable silence, when Mickey tuned in to Lip and Ian’s conversation from where they were painting in the main room.

“So, you guys are really doing this shit, huh? Running the Alibi?”

Ian paused, presumably taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Don’t know, man. The neighborhood’s changing. My bet is the crowds’ll get thinner and thinner.” Lip paused, ripping a paper towel to wipe his hands. “You sure that you and Mick have thought this through?”

Mickey tried to hold back an audible scoff from the kitchen. There were a number of things he could’ve yelled from the other room— for starters, when in the last 12 months had fucking Phillip Gallagher thought anything through— but he decided to hold his tongue, listening for Ian’s reply.

“Jesus, Lip. Yes. We’re already living in the place, not gonna give it up now.”

A pause.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole.”

Mickey could hear Lip twisting open the soda can he’d been drinking from.

“I don’t know, man. It’s my job to care about this shit, isn’t it? I thought Fiona taking over the laundromat was a bad idea, and she still did it anyways.”

Ian gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah.”

The soft tempo of the paint rollers on the wall continued.

“You sure this is what you wanna do with your life?”

Mickey felt that twist in his stomach again— the ice cold one, the feeling of fear that always sunk into his bones in moments like this, when he knew other people saw what he saw: that Ian Gallagher was far, far too good for him, and that all Mickey doing was ensnaring him in the dirty streets of the Southside and holding him back, when everyone else was moving on with their lives into gentrified apartment complexes.

But he’d heard the smile in Ian’s voice as he replied.

“Absolutely.”

Finally, after a long fucking day, Lip and Liam had left the creaky apartment— the place was looking pretty good, the kitchen and the main room both painted, and Lip had even been able to do a bit of work on the plumbing and fixed the leaky sputter of the upstairs bathroom faucet (he had also tried to convince Ian to install some sort of fucking backsplash thing in the kitchen, a multi-day project that they’d both resisted). Now, with Lip and Liam out the door, he and Ian were ready to crash. Mickey strode across the room and opened all the windows as wide as they could possibly go, trying to dispel all the paint fumes and let in gusts of humid summer air so they could collapse on the mattress. They probably could’ve crashed at one of the other Gallaghers’ places for the night if they felt suffocated by the fumes— but for now the light evening breeze was quickly drying the paint, circulating the almost-too-small room.

Across the room Ian flopped onto the mattress, a ridiculous streak of gray paint smeared across his forehead. Mickey smirked, and crawled into bed next to him, sitting so his legs were pressed against Ian’s upper torso.

“I can’t wait to get a fucking bedframe,” Ian breathed out—his face buried in the pillow, his eyelids drooping. “And a new mattress. Not this shitty one with stains all over it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey smirked, reaching a hand over to card through Ian’s hair.

“Mm.” Ian hummed happily in reply as he kept his eyes closed, probably starting to drift off to sleep.

While was probably a horrible idea— at the very least, Ian should change out of his paint-streaked clothes and wash his fucking face. There were flecks of paint all over his face and in his hair, mingling and dried in his copper curls, from when he and Mickey had gotten into a moderate paint-splattering war like a couple of teenage boys when they were trying to paint the living room walls later in the day. He prodded Ian in his side, who was now laying curled beside him with a dreamy fucking smile on his face.

“Hey. Mumbles. Get the fuck up. You’re gonna fall asleep with that toxic shit all over your face.”

Ian yawned, his nose crinkling. “Don’t care,” he said into the pillow.

“C’mon, Ian.”

And all at once Ian’s eyes were open, and he was crawling his way on top of Mickey, boxing him in with his arms on both sides of Mickey’s head. Mickey felt a gust of air whoosh out of his lungs in surprise—and in an instant he was reminded of when they used to live at the Milkovich house, in his shitty bedroom with far too many bad memories for Ian’s presence to completely tip the scale and outweigh them with the good ones, when Ian would be laying sleepy beside him and they’d get into little wrestling matches and tussles like this, with grips of hair and breathed out “C’mere, army!”s. There was the same energy buzzing between them in this moment—but god, they were so fucking different than they’d been then. They were fuller, more solid; Ian was measured in a way that still made Mickey’s toes curl when he looked at him and compared him to the scrawny and glassy-eyed teenager that he’d been, to the hollow frame he’d been on the worst days when Mickey placed a hand on a too-cold ribcage curled under thin blankets and run a hand through his hair and whispered “please,” trying to will the light back into Ian’s eyes.

But that light was there all the goddamn time now— and it was there right now as Ian dipped down and kissed at Mickey’s neck, Mickey breathing out as a no-longer-sleepy Ian made his way downward.

He guessed Ian could probably just shower all the dried paint out of his hair tomorrow morning.

Tuesday was a blur of getting ready for Ian’s idea to host fucking 80s night, and getting ready for Franny to stay— Mickey had thought the extent of Ian’s plan for this party thing was going to just be playing some tunes and charging a little extra for beers, but apparently Ian wanted to go all out. He’d had Debbie make some sort of poster with a colorful font and stapled them all over random bulletin boards and telephone poles on the Southside, and posted a bunch of shit on her Instagram (which had a weirdly large following because of her whole “hot handywoman” thing, which was still a complete fucking mystery to Mickey). Mickey wasn’t sure that Ian’s plan of throwing a party at their random Southside bar on a Friday night was going to fix all of their financial problems— but hey, if they needed cash then they needed cash. And while Mickey’s preferred way of procuring cash was heading down to the local corner store with a gun stowed at his waistband, for once in his life he was trying to do this shit right. So maybe his goody-two-shoes husband was making him soft (he definitely, definitely fucking was)— but when his jackass ginger giant of a husband looked at him with fucking puppy dog eyes and asked him to go along with this plan, instead of Mickey’s not-quite-joking suggestions that they just rob the bodega two doors over instead to fix all of the Alibi’s money problems, there really wasn’t much that Mickey could do about it.

He and Ian were wiping the bar, Mickey mentally running through the list of shit they had to order to prep for Friday’s crowd, when their phone screens both illuminated with text messages on the bartop.

Debbie (2:34 PM): everyone make sure to post the 80s night flyer on ur socials!!!!

Lip (2:34 PM): What the fuck are socials

Debbie (2:35 PM): 🙄

Debbie (2:35 PM): u aren’t an old man, phillip. instagram, twitter, even facebook for dinosaurs like u🦖

Liam (2:35 PM): 👍👍 Already posted.

Liam (2:36 PM): But I don’t know how useful advertising to a bunch of 11 year olds will be…

Carl (2:36 PM): me and a bunch of the boys r gonna roll through- get ready to rage motherfuckers!!!

Ian (2:37 PM): ❤️❤️

Ian (2:37 PM): Thanks for all your help Debs

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Sappy motherfucker.”

He decided to reply to the groupchat in the way that he knew best:

Mickey (2:37 PM): 🖕

Mickey remembered the first day that he’d been initiated into the Gallagher family group chat, nearly a week after returning from their “honeymoon” in the dingy motel that smelled like mildew and cigarette smoke— he and Ian had been back at the Gallagher house for about a week, sleeping in most long lazy mornings and getting up to… various activities. It was one of those lazy mornings in bed when Ian had gotten decidedly distracted from said activities by the series of notifications that were lighting up Mickey’s phone on the nightstand from the groupchat Gallagher Fam:

Debbie (11:34 AM): the jonas brothers are playing upstairs. everybody take cover

Lip (11:34 AM): Thank god I don’t live there anymore

Debbie (11:35 AM): also welcome to the group chat mickey xoxo

Liam (11:35 AM): Noise-cancelling headphones are on. An excellent investment

Carl (11:35 AM): i’m just seeking shelter & keeping it real in the basement 😎

Mickey had never been part of a fucking family group chat before—he’d barely been involved in any group chats, since the extent of his smartphone use before prison was nonexistent, and he’d relied on burner phones to do all of Terry’s shady bidding after he got out of jail up until the wedding. He’d used some of their wedding cash to get himself an iPhone—even though he barely fucking knew how to use it half the time, except for shitty multiplayer games he and Ian liked to mess around with— but he’d barely had an excuse to text anyone except Sandy about various wedding logistics, and obviously Ian.

But now he was crashing with Ian’s family, and he and Ian were fucking married, and he was a part of this shit for real— it was group chat official. Which strangely felt all the more real, even though Mickey already had a fucking ring on his finger. And he’d never tell a fucking soul, not even Ian, but it made something warm pool in his stomach— to have siblings to fucking banter with about who ate the last of the potato chips, or who could pick Franny up from school, or whining about whoever was making too much noise, in the same ways he and Mandy and his brother used to get on each other’s fucking nerves.

Ian smiled down at his phone at Mickey’s reply to Debbie’s nudge about the posters. “Excellent contribution. Thanks for showing Debs how grateful you are.”

Mickey brought his emoji to life and flipped Ian off. “You’re welcome.”

Ian bit at his thumbnail, looking down at his phone. “Debbie says she can get us a karaoke machine for Friday. That might be kind of fun, right?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Whatever you think, man. It’s your idea.”

Ian started tapping away at his phone, and Mickey turned back to tidying the bar, the rows and columns of those fucking black binders from the Alibi’s storeroom still lingering in the murky corners of his mind. He didn’t want to blow too much money on this shit— he had no idea how much a karaoke machine costed, but it probably wasn’t cheap. Why the fuck couldn’t they just steal one? Mickey gritted his teeth. He could crunch numbers any day, could make enough bank to stay afloat— but something about this, about running a fully legit business, was making him start to feel like he was being pulled underwater.

Mickey stayed tense the rest of the day, feeling like a bundle of fucking nerves without really knowing why— there was just so much going on, between moving and painting and Ian’s nervous excitement at planning this event bullshit. They’d both stumbled through the slow day at the bar, and now were collapsed in bed for the evening; Mickey was scrolling through various furniture store websites, weighing their options, while Ian was curled next to him, talking about something in a low voice that Mickey wasn’t really paying attention to.

“Sorry, what?”

Ian breathed out and smirked. “Nevermind. You weren’t listening.”

Mickey scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry, man. Just distracted.”

“Why’re you distracted?”

“Just thinking about all this shit. Furniture shopping, unpacking, whatever.”

Ian smiled. “Yeah? We can probably just pick stuff out when we go in person, we don’t have to overthink it.”

Mickey blew out a breath. “Yeah. Guess so.” He stretched his arms over his head— when the fuck did his shoulders get so tight?

“You ready for bed?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab the light.”

Mickey stood to pull the string for the bare lightbulb hanging directly above them, then thudded onto his stomach on the mattress. Immediately he heard Ian rustling under the sheets, moving closer to him, and eventually lifting on his arms to hover over Mickey’s back.

“The fuck’re you doing?”

“Relax, Mick. Just take a deep breath. Lemme take care of you.”

Mickey blew a breath out of his mouth into the pillow. “Not in the mood right now, Ian. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Not like that— just lemme make your shoulders hurt less, at least.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath on the back of his neck as Ian settled, sitting back on Mickey’s upper thighs and leaning over him. He ran his hands along Mickey’s upper shoulders, delicately rubbing his thumbs up and down near his spine and trying to work at the permanent knots there.

“R’you giving me a fucking massage?” Mickey mumbled the words into the pillow, letting his eyelids droop. It did feel pretty fucking good, if he was being honest—the tension was draining from where he’d been holding it in his shoulders all week long, absorbing the impact of all the changes swirling around them and trying to keep them both afloat.

“Mm.” Ian hummed in reply, working his hands down to Mickey’s lower back and digging his thumbs in right where there were bundles of dull pain. Mickey almost flinched—not because it hurt, really, but because Ian’s fingertips gliding across his skin felt so fucking good.

He remembered the first 17 years of his life, the years when he’d been touch-starved without even realizing it, when the only touches his nerve-endings knew were high-impact beat downs and fists connecting with his jawbone. Milkoviches didn’t fucking hug, aside from a casual slap on the shoulder or side-hug when one of them was released from juvie—and even after he and Ian got together it took fucking forever to know what being held, what being gently touched, felt like. Those first few times when Ian had dragged his fingers over Mickey’s hipbones when they were fucking made Mickey nearly shudder, his nerve endings sparking like goddamn fireworks; and he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. It was like his body was going on alert, like there was an invader breaching and he was always used to bracing for impact; but despite himself, all Mickey wanted was more— all he wanted was to press his cheek to Gallagher’s fucking jawbone and just keep it there and breathe in the scent of him, absorbing the warmth of his skin.

He still wasn’t totally used to this shit, the luxury of a warm body next to his after those years in a narrow prison cot, and on the run— but as he drifted off to sleep, his shoulders now unclenched and Ian’s warm, sturdy limbs circled around him, he thanked god, if god even did fucking exist anyways, that living in the shitty apartment over the Alibi was where he ended up in his life right now, with Ian by his side.

The next evening, just as the sun was setting pink outside the windows and Mickey was finishing up organizing everything behind the bar, Debbie towed Franny into the main room of the Alibi, wearing some sort of pink frilly shirt and carrying a kid-sized backpack with her pajamas and toothbrush inside.

“Thanks for watching Franny tonight, you guys are the best!” Debbie had barely set foot in the door before she was out it again and letting it swing shut behind her. Seconds later, Mickey could hear the distinct roaring of a too-expensive car engine coming from the street outside the bar.

Ian peered out the front window to inspected Heidi’s ride. “Jesus. It’s some sort of Ferrari convertible.” He scooped up Franny’s backpack from the floor, slinging the comically small bag onto his broad shoulders as he crouched to give Franny a hug. “Hey Fran, it’s so good to see you!”

“I missed you, Uncle Ian!” Franny enthusiastically squeezed Ian back.

Ian pressed a peck to the top of her head. “Missed you too. We’ve gotta have a talk with your mommy when she gets back about child road safety. That Ferrari was noticeably lacking a car seat.”

“Uncle Mickey!!!” Franny nearly squealed as she spotted Mickey behind the bar, running up and trying to jump up onto a stool so she could reach him. Ian laughed and lifted Franny so she was perched on a stool, her legs dangling as she reached forward. Mickey reached out an arm to fist-bump Franny, the best he could do with the bartop between them.

“Hey there, Little Red. Missed ya.”

Franny immediately looked Mickey up and down, like she was assessing if he’d changed at all since she last saw him. Her brows furrowed—then finally she spoke.

“Uncle Mickey, I have a question.”

Mickey reached across the bar to ruffle her hair. “What’s up, kid?”

She paused. “Can I rip the sleeves off my shirt too, like you?”

Mickey chuckled in surprise. He was wearing one of his flannel tank-tops with the arms ripped off—a white trash summer look in every way. “Let’s see what we can do. I think Uncle Ian’s got some old shirts packed upstairs that we can mess around with.”

Luckily, the bar was totally empty for the evening, aside from their three or four regulars— so Ian and Franny got to go upstairs and play dress-up while Mickey dealt with shit at the bar for an hour or so, deciding they’d close early so they could pay attention to Franny.

“Hey, Mick! We’ve got a surprise for you.” Ian’s voice wafted down from the back stairway that led up to the apartment.

“What’s up?”

“One sec. Stay downstairs.” Mickey could hear two sets of pattering footsteps coming down the staircase—and Franny dashed into the room, wearing a very baggy white tank top that reached her knees and an oversized flannel with the sleeves ripped off, an exact replica of Mickey’s outfit.

“Look, Uncle Mickey! I have an outfit like you! Now we can play liquor store robbery.” She looked at him seriously—then her face contorted, her brows furrowed and her lip sticking out in a face that Ian had taken to calling the “Milkovich scowl,” a trait that Franny had adopted in her many hours of playing “robbers” in the backyard with Mickey with her fake guns he’d gotten her for her birthday.

“Gimme all of your money!”

Mickey chuckled, and threw his hands up in surrender. “You got me, Wonder Woman.”

Ian walked towards the bar, lifting Franny up so she was perched on the countertop. “You like Franny’s new look? She was pretty insistent about wearing the tank top too.”

But Franny was still peering over at Mickey, like something had caught her eye.

“Uncle Mickey, can I have drawings on my fingers too? Like you? All the real robbers on TV have those.”

This time it was Ian who was laughing. “Oh my god. Debbie’s gonna kill us. If Franny gets knuckle tattoos by the time she’s seventeen, I’m blaming you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Ain’t nothing wrong with family tradition. Fuck you.”

Ian tapped his fingers on the counter. “Wait, I have an idea. Franny, wait here.” Ian rushed upstairs, and came back down holding the black Sharpie that had Mickey had been using to circle pictures in the Ikea catalogue.

“Here, hold out your hand Fran.”

Franny held out her hand for Ian to hold—and he started to draw blocky letters between each of her knuckles. When he finished, he held Franny’s hand up for Mickey to see the doodled serifs, smiling sheepishly.

“L T T L R E D ♡”

Mickey grinned. “Now you’re a real robber, Rockstar.” Franny looked at her hands and smiled contentedly, running her thumb over the letters.

“L. T. T. L. I know all these letters. They’re different from Uncle Mickey’s. Mommy said his say ‘fuck.’”

Ian snorted. “Yeah, you get your own special letters Franny. They say ‘little red.’”

Franny beamed. “That’s what Uncle Mickey calls me!”

“You got it, kiddo.”

The rest of the afternoon involved many rounds of playing “liquor store robbery,” and Ian lifting up Franny to “help” behind the bar by pulling the lever of the beer tap— and by the early evening, when even fucking Kermit and Tommy had gone, Ian had the idea to make a fort out of the leftover empty inventory boxes, and Franny had repeatedly busted through the tower of boxes and shouted “Put your hands in the air!” as she pretended to blow up fictional liquor store walls.

Now it was late and they were all upstairs—Franny had crashed after dinnertime, after bouncing on the bed with a sugar high from the Poptarts Mickey had snuck her after dinner (to supplement some bullshit pasta thing that Ian had forced Mickey to feed her, even though he never remembered wanting to eat that shit when he was five— he practically lived on Honey Buns and pork rinds from the nearby gas station).

They still didn’t have furniture, and at one point they’d perched on the mattress so Mickey could show Franny videos of monster trucks on his phone— and now Franny was totally passed out against Mickey’s chest, breathing those raspy, loud breaths kids make when they’re deeply asleep.

Ian came in the room from the semi-divided wall of the kitchen, wiping his hands after finishing rinsing the dishes (two plates, and a bowl that Franny ate from because they’d only swiped two of everything from the Gallagher house last week); and Mickey saw Ian’s lips curve upward in a knowing smile as he noticed Franny curled in the bedsheets, half-leaning on Mickey’s chest. Franny and Mickey were smack in the middle of the mattress, taking up most of the room; but Ian crouched to sit on the edge of the mattress beside Mickey, hooking his chin on Mickey’s shoulder casually as he peered over at Franny, still wearing her oversized flannel and smudged knuckle tattoos.

“Guess our babysitting duties are over.” He breathed out, trying not to unsettle Franny’s steady breathing. “Hope we didn’t corrupt her too much.”

Mickey scoffed. “Debbie’s dating someone who’s more of a fuck-up than we’ll ever be. Don’t think the ball’s really in our court on that one.”

“Fair.”

Franny scrunched her nose in her sleep, sighing out heavily before nestling deeper into the bedsheets.

“I kinda missed her, man.”

Mickey was surprised by the words as he heard them coming out of his mouth— they were true, but he hadn’t even voiced them to himself until now. As shitty as he’d always been with kids, he had to admit that goofing around with Franny was pretty fucking fun.

Ian smiled from where his mouth was pressed against Mickey’s shoulder. “Yeah. Me too.”

There was a silence, the room filled with the soft sound of Franny’s steady breathing. And then:

“Maybe… we’ll have a kid of our own sometime.”

Immediately, Mickey felt his gut lurch. It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about this shit—they definitely had, in the abstract moments before the wedding; before everything blew up in their face and the pandemic took hold and any thought of kids was pushed way, way to the sidelines. And it wasn’t like Mickey was avoiding the topic— but he wasn’t exactly bringing it up, either, and neither was Ian.

Mickey thought back to that moment before the wedding, back to the hushed “you want kids?” Ian had placed between them— and how in that moment Mickey had known how much Ian wanted kids, how much Ian constantly cared for other people, how his voice got all soft and mushy around the edges in the vicinity of a baby. He knew how much Ian wanted this— but even broaching the topic made Mickey’s muscles start to clench.

Mickey tried to keep his cool—even though he felt the tides starting to roll inside of him, threatening to pull him under.

“I’d be a shitty dad, man.”

Ian’s head pulled away from where it had been nestled against the crook of Mickey’s neck—and Mickey turned his head to meet Ian’s piercing gaze.

“No you wouldn’t.” Ian’s voice was soft, surprised.

Mickey swallowed. “What if I like. Beat it. Or—” he cut himself off, knowing his voice was starting to waver.

Ian’s voice was firm when he replied. “You won’t. You’re great with Franny.” Ian paused.” “You were great with Yev.”

And there it was—the other fucking elephant in the room, beside all of Mickey’s other daddy issues; the fact that Mickey already was a father, was forced to be a father against his own will, giving him some sort of complex that he didn’t even have the energy to dig into about the potential of scooping up some kid to raise with Ian…. when there was already one out there with his gene pool that he didn’t want, that he couldn’t want, whose existence was forced onto him at gunpoint and who he didn’t have the strength to take care of.

Mickey felt Ian’s hand, feather light, tracing down his side— pulling him out of the current of his internal monologue. Ian’s hand hooked around his hip; a touch to root him, giving Mickey solid ground to hold on to.

“Hey.”

“What.”

“You’re gonna be a great dad.”

Mickey swallowed down the lump in his throat—and with it he tried to swallow down whatever bullshit was holding him back from letting himself have this. He thought about Ian—despite all his own reservations, he knew Ian must be having the same type of feelings about all of this shit; Ian was the one who had stolen Yev, who had worked so hard to get himself to the person he was today—a stable place where he was allowed to dream about being a parent, allowed to dream about shit like this.

“I hate this.”

Mickey didn’t really know what he was referring to in particular as he said the words—he hated all of this, he hated the churning emotions inside him. He felt so fucking uncomfortable—but that was always the first thing he felt, wasn’t it, when there was something deeper inside? It was the first thing he’d felt when he started to fall for Ian, when he started to realize he much preferred scrawny redheads to the busty figures with long hair; the pushing and heaving of no no no from somewhere in his ribcage, because he knew how much letting himself have this was going to hurt, how much shit he was going to have to wade through.

But he’d fucking done it—and look where he was now: Ian curled against his back, their fucking niece sound asleep beside him.

“Hey.” Ian’s voice was soft, nearly tickling Mickey’s ears. “There’s no rush for any of this shit. I’m just talking about… big picture. Eventually. When we’ve got all our shit settled.”

There it was again—that word, the one Ian had been saying all the time lately, the one that had been radiating out of his pores. Settled.

Mickey clearing his throat, trying to dispel the huskiness he knew would be there when he spoke. “Yeah. Maybe someday.”

He looked down at his hands. He knew that saying that wasn’t enough— Ian had to know how much he meant it.

“I— I wanna give you that shit. Someday.”

Mickey knew that was still an inadequate expression of everything he was feeling, of how much he wished he could just race carefreely into making fucking forts and playing dress-up with a kid of their own; but he also knew that for tonight, Ian understood. He knew in the way Ian pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw, and said into the silence of the room:

“You’re so fucking good at taking care of people, Mick.”

Mickey let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. They were going to do this—someday.

“You know… now that we’ve got our own place.” Ian’s voice trailed off.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Well— we could be good millennials and start with a dog. Y’know, as a practice run. Get your fucking Milkovich pit bulls or whatever.”

Mickey instantly felt whatever remaining tense energy that had been clinging to him dissipate. He felt a grin creep onto his face. “Hell yeah. I’m in.”

Ian pecked his shoulder. “Cool. We can check out shelters sometime next week.”

Mickey shook his head, still smiling in relief. “A pit bull, I can handle. We’re gonna treat her like a fucking princess. Who needs kids anyways?”

Ian smiled back. “The first step in starting our own Southside family.”

Mickey’s insides instantly got warm and gushy at the words— and again, it was that mix of no no no and you don’t deserve this alongside something deeper, something more solid. He tried to do what Ian always told him to do, in the moments that he felt like this: he forced a breath in, forced himself to expand his ribcage. He forced himself to think:

You deserve this.

The next day had been uneventful, other than Franny’s tearful goodbye— and now it was the early afternoon on Friday, far too early for any sort of rush. Once again only Tommy and fucking Kermit were seated at the bar, but today he and Ian were barely paying attention to them, despite Tommy’s halfhearted attempts to drag Mickey into some sort of bullshit banter (as much as Tommy said he preferred silence at the bar, everyone knew that was a lie. Why the fuck else would be have been coming here every day for the last eleven years?).

Today, Ian had dragged a chalkboard out from the clutter of the dingy back closet of the Alibi, a sandwich board meant to be placed on the curb to promote the bar that looked like it had hardly been used. Ian continued to shuffle through the various boxes in the back room, making a shit ton of noise, until he finally found whatever else he’d been looking for.

“Aha!”

He held up a bent cardboard box of multicolor sidewalk chalk— half empty, and half broken, but it would get the job done.

He strode over to the bar, laying the chalkboard on it— then turned to Mickey, folding his arms in front of him.

“Alright, bartender extraordinaire. What drinks should we make for 80s night?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, puffing out a breath. “I don’t fucking know. Most of the guys who come in on Fridays just drink beer. We don’t gotta overcomplicate shit.”

Ian pressed his lips together, contemplative and looking down at the blank canvas of the chalkboard. “I’m not saying we should force out the regulars, because that’s definitely not what we’re going for with the event— but it’d be nice to have a couple of new things, in case the new people in the neighborhood do some by. Nothing too fancy or frilly or whatever.”

Ian dug in the cardboard box, plucking out a piece of chalk.

“And we should make our own signature drinks anyways, since we’re taking over the place. Make our mark on the Alibi.” He grinned. “Got any fun drink name ideas?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, and felt the corners of his lips turn upwards in an amused smile against his will, thawing. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Ian continued smiling. “How about… the Milkovich Mojito.”

Mickey puffed out a breath of air, shoving Ian in the chest and furrowing his brows. “No fucking way.”

Ian just waggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, we own the place. It’ll just be a mojito with a shit ton of rum, only enough for someone with Milkovich-level tolerance. People will think it’s funny.”

Mickey felt his eyebrows lift upwards a bit, and he could see from the expression on Ian’s face that he’d lost this one. “Fine.”

Ian smirked, penciling in “Milkovich Mojito” on the chalkboard and drawing a little design around it. Mickey forgot how good Ian was at this— at the little details like this, at making shit look nice.

Ian rose from where he was hunched over the chalkboard when his masterpiece was completed, hands on his hips. “Alright. What else?”

Mickey shrugged. “I don’t know. How about ‘just fucking beer’?”

Ian laughed, and a warm feeling pooled in Mickey’s stomach despite himself. “Yeah. We should spell that out on the menu, so people know that’s our standard.” He leaned to write “JUST FUCKING BEER” on the chalkboard, drawing a little cartoon beer stein with foam on the top next to it. Mickey reached out, smudging a bit of the chalk of the drawing to annoy Ian, just because he could.

Ian swatted his arm away. “Hey! No touching the masterpiece.” He drew over the part Mickey smudged as best he could, biting his lip in concentration. Fuckin’ dork.

Ian stood tall again, admiring the finished product. “There. One more?”

Mickey shrugged again, feeling utterly out of ideas. He could balance a budget, sure, but he was useless with all the creative shit like this.

Ian bit his lip again, thinking. “What’re even mixed drinks people like? Sex on the beach?”

Mickey smirked. “There ain’t a lot of beaches in Chicago, man.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess it’s more like ‘sex behind a dumpster.’ Or ‘sex on your twin bed at your family’s house.’”

Mickey grinned, catching Ian’s drift. “Sex in the dugouts.”

Ian laughed, then made a little gesture with his hands like inspiration had struck. “Mick, I think we have our final drink name.” He turned to write it on the chalkboard.

“What the fuck are we gonna put in it? Just a fuckin’ lukewarm beer?”

Ian smirked, looking off dreamily. “Ah, memories.”

Mickey prodded him in the sternum. “You’re a fucking sap.” He shoved Ian over. “Here, let me write this one.” He took the chalk from Ian’s hand. “No peeking.”

He scratched on the chalkboard for a moment, then stood back to reveal his work. “Ta-da.”

In scratchy handwriting, not unlike the “STAY THE FUCK OUT” sign that used to be taped to his door, read “SEX IN THE DUGOUTS”—and next to it was two drawings, of a cartoon dick and two stick figures fucking doggy-style.

Ian grinned wide. “It’s perfect. Definitely captures the vibe of the new owners.”

Mickey just smiled back.

It was 6 p.m. now, and the bar was just about ready—Ian had compulsively swept the floor during the lull in the afternoon, even though it would be dirtied and scuffed within seconds of the usual Friday blue-collar crowd streaming in through the doors, and Mickey was perched on a stool at the end of the bar, laboring over his playlist. He usually didn’t overthink this shit— he’d included all the classics, from Bon Jovi to Queen to fucking Cyndi Lauper, but there was something so public about he and Ian running this thing now, and about throwing a loud event to proclaim it, that make Mickey’s stomach start to do somersaults for some reason as the first huddled crowd of Southsiders shuffled their way in through the door.

The bar did look good— Ian had got some sort of lighting gels to put over the lamps in the Alibi, and the room’s lighting was tinted a suave blue color, making the small space feel a little hipper, a little cooler, while still retaining its comforting dingy feel. It almost reminded Mickey of the soft, colorful lighting in that random Westside bar they’d gotten engaged in, with the shitty overpriced beer and the sparkly fucking lights when they’d watched that god-awful harp band with Barry or whatever the fuck his name was— but the lighting here looked cooler, more deliberate, and cast a calculated glow across the room that added to the vibe. The bass was thrumming low through the speakers Ian had rented from somewhere— right now it was just playing some mellow Joy Division song as people continued streaming into the bar.

Ian had crept upstairs at some point, probably to change out of whatever sweaty t-shirt he’d been wearing all day; and Mickey saw a flash of red hair emerging from the stairway now, turning the corner to stride into the dark room.

“Hey! Oh my god, it’s great to see you guys!”

Immediately Ian was swept away by some group of people in their mid-twenties near the swinging door that led to the back of the bar, who were chattering away about how they’d seen the poster on Debbie’s Instagram or some shit. Mickey assumed they were some people Ian had known when he’d been locked up, one of the unfamiliar faces from their wedding that got involved with Ian’s “Gay Jesus” bullshit—and as much as Mickey knew Ian’s relationship with those figures from a very different time in his life was complicated to say the least, it was nice to see Ian leaning comfortably against the bar, chatting away with someone that wasn’t him or Lip— chatting with friends. Looking settled.

Mickey smirked, knowing his gaze was lingering for too long when Ian locked eyes with him from across the bar, tilting his head towards the stairway. Giving Mickey a chance to go upstairs, to freshen up, to take a deep breath if he wanted to.

Fuck it. Mickey strode across the bar, heading upstairs to the quiet sanctuary of the studio and its fresh-painted walls. He shuffled through the various shirts and baggy jeans that were now in their designated-clothes-pile in the corner of the room, at least until they got a dresser and hangers and all that shit. He decided to peel off his sweaty tank top and change into a blue Hawaiian-print shirt, the one he’d swiped from the laundry room at the yuppie fucking Westside apartment complex before he’d burned that bridge, to amp himself up and fit the vibe downstairs. The shirt was only a little bit creased from being shoved in a pile in the corner of the room, which felt like a bonus— and Mickey smoothed a hand through his hair and fixed the collar of the shirt as he caught his own eye in the cracked bathroom mirror. There weren’t lots of times Mickey really gave a shit about what he wore—he and Ian pretty much lived in tank tops and boxers at home, and tank tops and denim at the bar especially on hot fucking days like these ones— but he had to admit that it did feel pretty nice to put on a shirt with a collar, a shirt with bright colors and patterns on it that, fuck it, he knew made his eyes pop—just because he wanted to have fun, just because he could.

He ruffled his hair one last time, then clomped back down the back staircase towards the light chatter swirling in the room below. Immediately he noticed the line at the bar starting to grow, and walked with intention over to behind the bar to start taking orders from a mixed sea of regulars and younger, new faces.

“Looking pretty festive there, Mick.”

Mickey held up a middle finger to where Tommy was seated on his usual stool. “Fuck you. I look hot and you know it.”

“You definitely do.” Ian slid behind him, speaking low into Mickey’s ear and his hands gliding to bracket Mickey’s waist for a moment as he shuffled by to pass a beer to a customer, then walked to the end of the bar and start to take more orders without a glance back. Mickey felt his neck flush red, just for a second— Ian was always just saying shit like that, about how good Mickey was, whenever he looked nice. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

After a few hours the party was fully humming, and both he and Ian could barely glance up from the bar because of how many people were streaming through and placing their orders. Courtesy of Debbie, a karaoke machine was up and running in the corner of the room, the speakers blasting a series of poppy instrumentals across the small space—and as much as Mickey hated to admit it, he had to say that this event bullshit was actually a pretty fucking good idea. There were a handful of new faces in the crowd, a bunch of fucking millennials with man-buns and Ray-Bans and brimmed hats; but most of the crowd was the typical neighborhood crew, blue-collar workers with beer guts who were dropping slightly more money than their usual tab on an extra beer, and walking sloshed to the corner of the room to serenade their buddies with “Livin’ on a Prayer” (which made Ian stare across the bar at Mickey with a knowing smile between pouring drink orders).

At some point in the evening Debbie rolled in with a group of people from some gay bar she’d been pregaming her evening at, and Carl came by with some of his cop buddies; and all in all, the place had all the makings of a good fucking party. Which meant they were making good cash—beyond the wads of bills left on the bartop as tips, all the millennial jokers filtering through the space were surprisingly biting on the overpriced cocktails Ian had concocted, and they were racking up a good profit as the night went on.

Maybe they could fucking run this place after all.

Right now, a very sloshed Debbie was singing on the karaoke machine in the corner, belting out the final verse of “I Will Always Love You” and practically eye-fucking her new Grand Theft Auto girlfriend— an image that Mickey was trying not to pay attention to at all costs as he scanned the room, trying to mentally calculate just how well they’d done for the night. There’d been a good crowd streaming in for hours— and now the numbers were finally dwindling, and at last he and Ian could finally slow their pace for a bit, instead of being pulled in a million goddamn directions to wipe up beer spills or clear tables or refill the ice cubes in the freezer.

“Heeeyyyyy everyone! Listen up!” Debbie’s muffled voice took over the fade of the final chords of the song, her mouth a little too close to the microphone and making it screech as she spoke out to the crowd in the bar. “I just wanna say a shoutout to Ian and Mickey for taking over the Alibi! And for being the heroes that kept this place alive!” She teetered slightly. “Southside forever!”

Mickey scowled, and locked eyes with an amused Ian across the bar. “Control your fucking sister, man.”

Ian shrugged. “Eh. She’s the one that helped plan half this shit. Let Debs have some fun.”

Debbie pointed a finger over to where Ian and Mickey were standing behind the bar. “Everyone give them a round of applause! C’mon, they deserve it! C’mon!”

There were a couple of chuckles from the crowd, at Debbie’s deeply inebriated state as she tried to put the microphone back in its stand and drag herself away from the small TV showing song lyrics— but then, one by one, people at the bar started to clap— regulars, random newcomers, and even Tommy gave a little whoop as the cheers grew louder and louder and started to erupt.

Mickey just rolled his eyes, but Ian straightened his spine and smiled as he addressed the crowd. “Couldn’t have done it without all of you guys!” He wiped his hands with a towel, and went back to wiping down the bar as the applause settled.

Just then, Debbie turned and fumbled to grab the microphone once more. “Wait! Ian, Mickey! Come up here and sing a song.”

If Mickey thought he was scowling the first time Debbie had stumbled her way into the mic, now he was on a whole different level. He flashed a glance to Ian, and saw the sappy grin starting to grow on his face, like it always did when Ian had some dumbass idea. Jesus Christ.

Mickey needed to pump the brakes on this one fast. “No fucking way, Gallagher.”

Ian stepped closer to Mickey, reaching a placating hand onto his elbow. “C’mon, Mick. It’ll be fun.” Ian raised his eyebrows— and his stupid fucking eyes were shining again, doing that fucking thing where Mickey could feel in his bones that Ian was so ridiculously happy that they got to do sappy, mundane shit like this together…

Mickey blew out a breath. “I gotta do a shot or some shit before we do this.”

Ian’s grin grew ten sizes as he dropped the towel hanging from his shoulder onto the bar and swiftly turned to pour Mickey a shot of Jameson. Mickey’s frown deepened as he lifted his head back to pour the liquid fire down the back of his throat, bracing himself for battle; of course his stupid fucking American-Idol-wannabe husband couldn’t resist a call to do goddamn karaoke. Mickey blamed himself—he should’ve known Ian anywhere in the 1-mile radius of a karaoke machine would inevitably be a recipe for disaster.

Ian strode past the length of the bar and toward the corner of the Alibi where the illuminated screen of the karaoke machine was sitting there waiting— Mickey trudged behind him, shooting a glance at where Tommy and Kermit were seated on their regular stools.

“You two are in charge of the bar for 2 fucking minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” Kermit raised his hands in surrender, and Tommy just raised an eyebrow.

Ian was already punching at the little arrows on the machine. “What song d’you wanna do?”

“I could give less than a fuck, man. This is your fucking idea.”

Ian just flashed him a grin as he scrolled through the preselected song options. “Here, let’s do this one.”

He handed Mickey a microphone, and reached over to grab the second mic from Debbie’s hand (who was now successfully being corralled back to a booth by Heidi).

Instantly, the techno intro rhythms to the song began—and Ian started bobbing his head, causing the onlookers at the bar to laugh and one person to whistle. Mickey just shoved his upper arm.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

Ian just raised his eyebrows, and in a very off-key voice, started to sing:

“You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar

When I met you

I picked you out, I shook up and turned you around

Turned you into someone new”

Mickey felt his heart thudding in his chest—and fuck that. He owned the fucking bar, he could fucking sing with his goddamn husband if he wanted to. Fuck whatever everyone else was thinking.

So when the first verse ended, and quickly streamed into the second, Mickey clutched the microphone and half-spoke, half-sang the illuminated words on the screen:

“Now five years later on you’ve got the world at your feet

Success has been so easy for you

But don’t forget it’s me who put you where you are now

And I can put you back down too”

Ian’s grin was splitting across his face— and once again Mickey had to reach out and prod him in the chest.

“Stop looking so fucking sappy!”

Ian just held the microphone in both of his hands, and playfully started to sing the chorus:

“Don't

Don't you want me?

You know I can't believe it

When I hear that you won't see me”

He looked over at Mickey, raising his eyebrows. “C’mon, Mick!”

Fuck it.

Mickey swallowed down whatever lingering… feelings were happening about all of this shit, and let the people watching them melt away, fading into the hazy blue lighting— because fuck all those assholes, anyways. He and Ian had been through way too much shit in the main room of the Alibi for Mickey to be afraid of doing fucking karaoke right now; he’d literally come out to his dad in these four walls. He’d had his face bashed in the moment he decided right here, rooted in this same spot on the scuffed hardwood floors, that he would do fucking anything to always be by Ian Gallagher’s side. So he squeezed his eyes shut, just for a second— and pretended it was just him and Ian, singing fucking Lady Gaga in their bathroom as they brushed their teeth (which, yes, they had been prone to do since Chromatica came out, fucking sue him)— and let himself actually sing, deep from his gut in the same goofy, lighthearted way that Ian was doing along with him:

“Don’t you want me baby?

Don’t you want me? Oh!

Don’t you want me baby?

Don’t you want me? Oh!”

Ian’s face was slightly flushed, still grinning from ear to ear, his eyes shining as he bobbed his head along with the music— and as they both finished singing the chorus, everyone in the bar started to lose their shit. Everyone was clapping and whistling; even some of the old regulars Mickey had pegged as homophobes a long time ago were cracking smiles through their scraggly beards and clapping their hands together.

When the song finally ended, Ian took a dramatic bow— then he took Mickey’s hand, clasping it and raising it over their heads. The applause and cheers erupted from the crowd, and someone yelled out:

“Let’s hear it for the new owners!”

After that, for the rest of the night Mickey loosened the fuck up— and maybe it was the couple of shots in his system, or maybe it was the fact that there weren’t that many people in the bar now at all except for a thin crowd of familiar faces— but he was feeling happy and warm as he milled through the crowd picking up empty glasses. At some point Debbie switched up the playlist to more dance-y stuff, causing her and Heidi to start spinning in the middle of the room, and a couple others to push the bar tables to the side and follow suit.

And now, people were dancing—and some random middle-aged neighborhood lady grabbed Mickey by the wrist, a smile on her face, to come dance with them—and usually Mickey would scowl and say “Fuck no” to dancing with some random fucking stranger in a situation like this, but he was feeling the blood rushing through his veins, feeling fucking settled—so for just this once, he decided to dance like a fucking goof in his Hawaiian shirt with the random lady for a while, til he locked eyes with where Ian was standing across the bar.

And maybe they were supposed to be paying attention, because they were still the ones running the fucking bar— but all Mickey wanted to do in that moment was walk across the room and press himself closer, closer, and reach his hand up to the side of Ian’s neck, and drag him to lean down to just the right height to press their lips together, to feel the warmth between them.

So that’s what he did, in the midst of the whirring of their neighbors and strangers in the Alibi around them.

We don’t have to run anymore.

#finally finished!!!#not rly proofread lol #yes it is almost 10k oops #i am actually rly proud of completing this chap i hope u enjoy #i love u all so so much i cannot get over how many amazing hcs i feel lucky to have included in this!#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #lip gallagher #liam gallagher #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm

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supernatural-jackles · 4 years

Text

Seeing You Again

Title: Seeing You Again

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 10,871

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Virginity Loss, Implications of Depression, Smut, Love Lost, Divorce, Tears. Jensen is an innocent, love struck sweetheart.

Summary: Fifteen years had passed since you had seen the love of your life, Jensen Ackles. Your childhood sweetheart, the man of your dreams. The two of you separated against your wishes. Until he walks into your bakery one day without knowing you owned it. You never expected old feelings to resurface, let alone something more

Square Filled: Childhood Sweethearts ( @spnfluffbingo) First Time ( @spngenrebingo)

A/N: Happy Tuesday!! My posting schedule is remaining the same from now until the middle of August. You get a new update every Tuesday and Sunday!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy reading!

You tied your apron around your waist, making sure it was secure before bunching up your hair in a quick messy bun. It was a busy Saturday afternoon and you had multiple things on the go already.

You were a baker; at least that was one of your job titles anyways. Business owner, workaholic, you name it. You lived a busy life. You worked six days a week at the bakery you owned in Dallas Texas, and had for the last three years. A successful little place you called Sweethearts. A name you had picked out for longer than you’d ever admit to anyone.

Every day was something new. A new order, or arrangement of orders. New faces, and familiar faces. The same smiles and thank you’s you got with every purchase. It was something you loved doing. You loved to bake and you loved to see the look on people’s faces when they picked up one of your creations for someone they loved.

This was your dream, believe it or not. You had always wanted to own your own business and be your own boss. You were never one for following the rules, no matter who the leader was. You never wanted to be some corporate lawyer, or a nine to five, hating every second of life kind of person. You wanted every day to be an adventure. You wanted to be independent.

You rolled out the fondant on your bakers table, getting ready to throw it over your double chocolate cookie cake for a special order. A lady wanted something special for her son’s tenth birthday so you were making a cookie monster cake in hopes he’d like it. In the distance, the timer for your oven went off, indicating that your in house pie was done.

Saturday’s were typically busy days. Today was no different. Thankfully you had most of your orders done for the morning. It was only this cake that needed finished before you could take a break and make some simple cookies.

“Hey Y/N, someone wants to see you,” your assistant called back. You wiped your hands on your apron as you walked out into the front of your shop. An older lady was standing there, a wide smile playing on her lips.

“Hi there,” you greeted her.

“Are you the owner of this place?” she asked.

“Why yes I am,” you nodded. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I just wanted to give compliments to you. You run a very nice business. The treats are out of this world. In all my time, I’ve never had a chocolate chip cookie taste so good,” she beaned.

“Thank you! That means a lot to me,” you nodded with a smile.

“If you’re not already taken, my grandson would love a woman like you,” she teased, adjusting her jacket around her arms.

“I’m married to my work,” you told her. “Someone has to make all the orders.”

“Well, you let me know,” she winked. “Take care now.”

You waved the older lady off, watching her walk out the front door of your shop. Each seat was taken. You watched as people sipped away at their coffees and every one of them had some sort of baked good from your display. You were finally doing something right.

“You know, you’re going to have to settle down someday,” your assistant, Victoria smiled at you.

“I know,” you sighed. “Someday.”

You walked into the back, getting back into finishing your cake. It needed to be done in less than an hour for the woman picking it up. You had to get your blue buttercream ready for the top of the cake, and the few cookies you had set aside to finish the top. It was going to be a breeze. You couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she saw the cake. The customer's reaction was always one of your favourite things. You loved seeing their smile.

You took a deep breath, mixing up the buttercream and food colouring to get the correct consistency. Your mind wandered back to the older lady for a moment. Sure you were thirty one, but you had tons of time to settle down and find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Right now, you were a business woman. You had that and it was one hundred percent what your focus was on. You needed to continue to be successful. Relationships were overrated anyways.

You poured the buttercream into the piping bag and began your design. You were excited to see how this was going to turn out. If it was good, it was definitely going on your instagram page.

You could feel the sweat forming at your brow as you continued the last strokes on the cake. It looked amazing if you were to say so yourself. It turned out much better than you were expecting it to, times a million. This was definitely going to make that ten year old’s birthday.

“Customer is here for the cake order,” Victoria called back to you.

“Coming right out.”

You boxed up the cake in a nice blue one you had custom made for purposes like this. It already said happy birthday on the side, along with some balloons. It was all about making the customer happy. You carefully lifted it off the counter and headed out to the front of the store with it in hand.

“Alright, cookie monster cake,” you smiled, placing it down on the counter by the register, opening it up. “Cookie dough cake inside, along with homemade chocolate chip cookies on top and a blue buttercream topping,” you smiled proudly, looking down at your cake.

“Gotta say Y/N, I always knew you’d be successful,” a deep voice said. You hadn’t even looked up at the customer yet. That voice was so familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on who it was. Until you finally glanced up. Those piercing green eyes boring into yours.

“J-Jensen?” you breathed out.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he smiled at you.

“W-what are you doing here?” you cocked your head to the side.

“My sister in law sent me to pick up the cake for my nephews tenth birthday,” he said. “I had no idea this was your place. Although, I have to say, it’s very you if I remember correctly.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Uh, twenty two dollars,” you breathed out.

“Do you accept tips?” he questioned as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Perfect. All I have is a fifty. Keep the change, sweetheart,” he winked. “You certainly deserve it. This cake looks perfect.”

“Thanks Jensen,” you swallowed hard, not daring to take your eyes off of him. That fucking nickname. The whole reason why this place was called Sweethearts. The man you had fallen in love with all those years ago. “Take care.”

You watched as he walked out the door with the box in his hands. You couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people you expected to walk in, he was never one of them. The man you had grown up with. The first and only man you had every loved with your whole heart. The one that slipped away.

“Who was that?” Melaine, your part time girl who helped keep your shop in working order.

“Just some guy I used to know a long time ago,” you smiled at her.

“Did you guys used to be together?” she inquired as she poured a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, for a while,” you breathed out.

“Well, with the way he was looking at you, I’d say there is definitely some feelings still there,” she chuckled. “I wish my boyfriend looked at me the way Jensen just looked at you.”

“Who was looking at who?” Victoria popped her head out and asked.

“A very hot customer was looking at Y/N. Apparently they have history,” Melanie wiggled her eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you shook your head, trying to repress your smile.

“Awwww,” Victoria cooed.

“He had heart eyes for her. Major heart eyes,” she beamed.

“You guys, he’s an old friend. Nothing more. Now we’re dropping it,” you stated before walking back into the kitchen to begin your clean up.

Your heart was still racing in your chest. It had been a really long time since you had seen Jensen in person. Sure, you followed all of his social media and kept up with what he was doing. He was an actor and had been for the longest time. He was successful at what he wanted to do and you cheered him on from your own tiny part of the world. But seeing him again after all this time, it wasn’t easy. It made you realize just how much you missed the way he’d call you sweetheart. You missed that in the sound of his voice, which was a lot deeper than it was the last time you heard it directed at you.

The afternoon dragged on and four became six. Victoria and Melaine cleaned everything out front and took a few things to go home. You were left with closing up and counting the money made in sales before you could head home. You were just packaging up the last of the cookies when you heard the ding of the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed now. We open back up on Monday,” you called out, closing the packet.

“Uh, sorry,” the familiar voice said, causing you to look up. Jensen was standing by the door with a nervous look on his face. You swallowed hard, not knowing where exactly you should look at him.

“Jensen,” you breathed out.

“Hey,” he half smiled, taking a step forward.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly, instantly cursing yourself for it. “Did your nephew like his cake?”

“Oh yeah,” he let out a chuckle. “Said it was the best birthday cake he’s ever had.”

“Good, I’m glad,” you nodded.

“How long have you been in Texas?” he asked, making his way over to the counter.

“Almost thirteen years now,” you told him.

“T-thirteen years?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I hated it in Minnesota.”

“You’ve always been a Texan at heart,” he smirked, going quiet for a moment. “You know, you’re even more beautiful now than you were fifteen years ago.”

“Jensen,” your cast your eyes down, unsure of what to say. “We’re not the same people we were back then.”

“I know,” he nodded, licking his bottom lip before he looked at you. “Doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

“What are you doing here, Jensen?” you asked him, opening up the package of cookies, motioning for him to take one.

“I - uh,” he paused, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I was hoping that maybe I’d catch you before you headed home. Uh, maybe see if you would want to go out for dinner? Catch up?”

“You sure you want to do that mister famous actor?” you teased him, watching his chest fall as he let out a laugh.

“So you’ve been keeping up a little,” he said with a chuckle.

“Here and there,” you shrugged. “I do have to finish up here before I do anything.”

“Anything I can help with?” He offered as he took a cookie from the packet. You smiled, closing it right, trying not to look at Jensen. “These taste amazing. They are even better than I remember.”

“Same recipe I used before,” you told him. “If you want to pack up the rest of these while I do the deposit, I’d appreciate it. I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

“Nah. Put me to work,” he assured you.

You showed him where the containers were and he got to work instantly, starting from the right side of the display, moving onwards. You headed over to the cash, taking out the register to bring it to your office which was right by the display.

“How long has this place been open?” Jensen asked you.

“Almost three years,” you answered, emptying out the till.

“Gotta say, you’re pretty successful here,” he told you. “Lots of customers. Bakery is amazing. I always thought you’d open up one in Minnesota.”

“I couldn’t wait to leave,” you admitted. “I lasted two years before I came back to Texas. It’s always been my home.”

“Your mom still there?”

“Yeah, with her boyfriend dickwad,” you shared. “At least, that’s what I call him. Not the biggest fan of him if you couldn’t tell.”

“Your dad here then?”

“He’s around here somewhere. He stopped talking to me after mom took me away after the divorce was finalized,” you revealed. “Now, he doesn’t talk to me much.”

“That sucks,” he frowned.

“How long are you visiting for?” You dared to ask.

“Few days before I head back. Changed my flight,” he said lowly.

“When were you supposed to leave?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“Tomorrow at three in the morning,” he said sheepishly. “But I knew as soon as I saw you-“

“Jensen, dont,” you swallowed hard.

“C’mon, it’s not like we parted on bad terms,” he reminded you. “It’s not like either of us had a choice in the matter. You were leaving to move a million miles away.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But It’s different now. I’m not sixteen anymore. You’re not sixteen.”

“No. I’m thirty one,” he reminded you. “Back then, we didn’t have cell phones or whatever. It’s different now, but at the same time, it feels exactly the same.”

“It’s not going to work,” you shook your head.

“Okay, say you are right,” he paused, glancing over to you in the office. “Will you at least hang out with me for one night?”

“Considering you probably aren’t going to leave until I say yes, fine,” you stated.

“You’re not wrong,” he shrugged.

You finished counting up the money from the day and put it in the safe before locking it up. You pulled your keys out, grabbing your jacket before shutting the door behind you. You took a deep breath, seeing Jensen standing there waiting in anticipation. You knew this was going to be a mistake. You knew it the second he walked in here that this was a mistake. Too much time had gone by between you and you couldn’t let yourself snap back into what the two of you had before you parted ways.

“Ready?” he asked you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, tightening your jacket around yourself. Jensen placed his hand on your back, walking with you towards the front doors of your little shop. You pulled your purse over your shoulder before switching keys to lock up the place.

He stood by the curb, his hand in the air to hail a taxi to take the two of you wherever. You could feel your stomach getting tighter. You were nervous. Something you hadn’t felt around a guy in a very long time.

A taxi pulled over to the side of the road, stopping right in front of you and Jensen. You let out a shaky breath as he opened up the door, motioning for you to get in first. He joined you seconds later, shutting the door.

“Hi, could you drop us off at Beertown please,” Jensen said to the driver. A young man who simply nodded his head without a word. It took everything in you not to look over at Jensen. You wanted to so bad. You wanted to see if the freckles still dusted over his cheeks. You wanted to see the greens of his eyes and get lost in the millions of stories he had seen over the years.

It was a short ride to the restaurant he was taking you to. One of the ones you frequented growing up. You were never legal to drink, but the food was amazing and so was the atmosphere. It was where he took you for your first date. One you’d never forget. You were more nervous about this dinner than you were on the first date.

He helped you out of the taxi and led you to the front door of the restaurant. You took another deep breath, trying to control yourself as the waiter led you to your table in the back. Somewhere a little more private as Jensen asked for.

“It feels like it was a lifetime ago that we were here,” he commented.

“It was a lifetime ago,” you said. “We were fifteen. Still in high school.”

“Back when everything was simple and all we had to worry about was finals,” he chuckled.

“That and I remember worrying about my parents fighting all the time. ‘T’s why I spent so much time with you at your place. Your family always got along, unlike mine. I liked it there,” you shared.

“It sucked a lot when you were gone,” he swallowed hard. “I know we parted on good terms but it was hard without you.”

“Least you had your friends though,” you reminded him.

“I still have your letter,” he confessed. “In my apartment in Vancouver. I still have it.”

“Really?” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I wrote you back and then never heard from you again.”

“Mom was pissed at me,” you sighed. “Moving away from everything and everyone I knew was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. It was worse when she didn’t listen to me when I told her I was struggling. Failed three classes my last semester of high school. Managed to get into UT and left. I was homesick and I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he stated. “Hell, I went to prom with my buddies.”

“I think we made it worse for ourselves though, Jensen,” you breathed out.

“Hey there. What can I get for the two of you?” the waiter smiled, pulling out her notepad.

“We’ll have two classic burgers, some fries and two of whatever you have on tap please,” Jensen told him.

“Coming right up,” he nodded, taking off to the next table.

“What do you mean you think we made things worse?” he cocked his head to the side, folding his arms on the table.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Jay,” you said lowly.

“Are you - do you mean the night before you left?” he furrowed his brows. “The night we-”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Do you regret it?” he inquired.

“No. Of course not. But it made everything a million times harder,” you revealed. “It was all I could think about from the time I left until I got there. Even then, I thought it wasn’t going to be so bad because we were both applying to UT and we were going to see each other again soon enough.”

“But I didn’t,” he frowned. “I left for LA instead.”

“It is what it is,” you nodded. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not proud of you. I want you to know that. I’ve been following you from the start. I watch every episode, and every movie. I’ve seen your interviews and I follow all your accounts on everything. Hell I’ve even seen some convention footage.”

“I wish I could do the same with you,” he brought up. “Trust me, I’ve looked and haven’t been successful so far. Made me wonder if you got married and changed your name.”

“No. I’m not married,” you chuckled. “Not to anyone at least. Work maybe.”

“Here are your meals and your beer. Enjoy!” the waiter smiled as he placed everything down on the table. He even brought some ketchup for the fries and a bottle of vinegar. You gave him a warm smile with your thank you, looking forward to diving in.

“What about you?” you dared to ask.

“What about me?” he furrowed his brows.

“C’mon, a guy like you has to have a girlfriend,” you teased him.

“Nope,” he shook his head, picking up his burger.

“Yeah, I find that very hard to believe. Girls were always fawning over you in high school and I’ve seen what people say about you on the internet,” you giggled.

“See, the only one that mattered to me was you. You have had my attention since I met you in kindergarten,” he let out a laugh. “My parents always said we were childhood sweethearts.”

“We were,” you agreed. “You were my first everything, Jensen. Quite frankly, I’m glad you were too.”

“Why is that?” he cocked his eyebrow.

“Because you treated me like a queen,” you shrugged, taking a fry off the plate. “You treated me better than anyone’s first boyfriend does at that age. You set my expectations high, which is why I’m not married or with anyone. No one can live up to the simple standards you set when we were sixteen years old.”

“Good,” he declared. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. Don’t settle for anything less. I was honoured to be your knight in shining armour.”

“You mean king?” you corrected him.

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m simply a knight, sweetheart.” And just like that, you melted into the seat. You felt like you were sixteen again, sitting in the passenger's seat of his truck, staring out at the sunset in the field. The little moments that meant a lot to you.

“Well I beg to differ, darlin’,” you winked, trying to play it cool. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. How could it possibly feel like no time had passed between you? Fifteen years had gone by and yet, you connected if it was just yesterday.

“I missed that,” he smirked.

“What?” you cocked your head to the side.

“You calling me darlin’, or honey,” he admitted almost nervously. “For the record, you made me feel like a king, even if I was a knight.”

You grabbed your burger off your plate, finally taking a bite from it. The flavours danced on your tastebuds, bringing you back. This whole night was filled with nostalgia. You came to the conclusion that this couldn’t happen again after tonight. It was too hard to sit with him, and reminisce about how great things were many years ago. It was hard to sit with him and look at his soft features you had spent so much time with and know that it was in the past. Jensen was your best friend growing up. He was your rock. Your light in the darkness. But you couldn’t let him back into your life again and have things go sour this time around. You needed to keep those happy memories happy. Not turn them into something you have to speak to a therapist about in two years.

“When do you leave?” you asked him, taking a sip of your beer.

“Monday night,” he answered, taking a fry off the plate. “So I’m here another day and a bit.”

“I’m sure your parents are happy to see you,” you half smiled.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They think I work too much. I don’t visit often enough according to them.”

“Your parents are cute,” you giggled. “They still have your bedroom in tact?”

“No actually. They did some renovations on the house and turned my room into one of the kids rooms when they have over the grandkids. I’m staying in a hotel for the next few nights. They have an extra room in the basement for me but it’s not ready yet.”

“Your parents were always the busy type,” you pointed out. “Your mom was always doing something when I was there.”

You watched as Jensen brought his beer up to his lips, taking a good drink of it. Your eyes wandered over his features once more. His soft hair sticking up and leaning a little more to his right. The crinkles by his eyes made you smile, especially when he did. He was handsome and he only got better with age. He had grown into himself now that you allowed yourself to look at him. He wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore.

“Can I get you guys anything for dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared away your plates.

“No thank you,” you mouth to Jensen.

“No thanks, can we just get the cheque please,” he nodded politely.

You sat still in your seat, reaching for your phone in your purse to check your messages. This wasn’t a date, you reminded yourself. This was acceptable and this was you check on your business. You had no email orders thankfully and everything else looked fine. It was seeming more likely that you could have a day to rest tomorrow instead of in the kitchen. You took a deep breath, hoping that maybe you and Jensen would part ways after this and you could head home to spend the night in your apartment.

The waiter came over, placing the cheque on the table. Before you could even look at it, Jensen had taken out his wallet and placed some money inside it. He never let you pay for dinner, even back then.

“Thank you for dinner, Jensen,” you smiled at him.

“Thank you for joining me,” he half smiled. “Any chance your night is free?”

“What did you have in mind?” you cocked your eyebrow.

“Honestly, nothing. I just don’t want to leave you yet,” he confessed. You were a little confused for a moment. You couldn’t understand why he wanted to spend more time with you. He was a famous actor now. You were a small town girl he was with a million years ago. You had history but this was almost too far. You appreciated his honesty. You just had a bad feeling about this.

“Jensen,” you breathed out, getting up from your seat. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You feel it too?” he asked, almost sheepishly. You licked your bottom lip, your eyes casting down. Your heart rate picked up a little at his words. There was this awkward tension that had been sitting there with you most of the night, just waiting to make its move. It finally had.

“Feel what, exactly?” you dared to ask.

“This awkward weirdness that’s never been there before,” he pointed out. “Something telling you to walk away.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded, adjusting your purse over your shoulder. You let out a sigh. “But there is also this stupid feeling inside of me that’s stopping me from walking away. That same stupid feeling I got when you asked me to dinner.”

“That same feeling when you saw me earlier today,” he breathed out.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“C’mon,” he motioned for you to follow him. You nodded your head, letting him lead the way out of the restaurant. The sun was starting to set, creating a nice warm orange tone in the sky. Jensen walked down the sidewalk, a few steps ahead of you.

What the hell were you doing? You barely knew him now. He was Jensen Ackles, a well known actor. You were Y/N Y/L/N. You owned a tiny bakery. That was your accomplishment. He had everything and so much more. He was the definition of success. Everyone loved him. You are not about to be a part of that. You were not about to be reckless after years of hard work.

“Jensen wait,” you swallowed hard, as you stopped in front of the park, taking a seat on the bench. He looked at you in confusion before taking a seat next to you.

“What’s up?”

“Where are we going?” you shrugged. “What are we doing?”

“I- I don’t know,” he sighed.

“I can’t do this, Jensen,” you shook your head. “I’m not doing this. I’m sorry. It was really nice seeing you after all this time.”

With that, you got up and started walking the other direction. You couldn’t sit there with him. You could go wherever he was going to take you and you certainly couldn’t let yourself get attached to the idea of loving him again. He was your childhood sweetheart. The one who taught you what love was and how to love someone with everything. Too much time had passed and you were two completely different people now. There was no changing that and you didn’t want to.

“Y/N, wait up,” you heard Jensen call out from behind you, followed by heavy footsteps, indicating that he was running after you.

“Jensen-“

Before you could even get a word out, his lips were on yours, kissing you hard. His hands came up to your cheeks, just like they used to when he kissed you unexpectedly. Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you could feel your lips tingling at the sudden contact. You wanted to reach out for him; pull him in close and kiss him like you used to for hours on end. His lips were soft along with the stubble growing on his face. You couldn’t deny kissing him back as your eyes fluttered shut. His breathing was heavy after running, shortening the kiss by quite a bit.

“Sorry,” he swallowed hard. “I had to.”

“It’s okay,” you nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. Your eyes cast down for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Look, seeing you - it brought up a lot of memories that I don’t think I was ready for. I never really got over you, you know? You were in my life everyday for eleven years and then you were just gone and I barely got to say a proper goodbye.”

“You did,” you assured him. “That last night before when we had sex for the first time. That was goodbye.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said softly. “I don’t want to leave this on bad terms.”

“We’re not going to,” you assured him. His lip curled upwards as his piercing green eyes met yours. You could feel the tension building between the two of you. His words swirling around in your head. He never really got over you, just the same as you never got over him. He was the one you lost all those years ago and it didn’t seem like he was walking away without a fight. Not this time.

“My hotel is just down the street. What do I have to do to convince you to come with me?” he smirked, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Depends,” you played. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing you aren’t comfortable with,” he said. “I just know I'm going to regret it if I don’t ask you.”

His words were honest. For a second, you saw a glimpse of a boy you knew a long time ago. A boy who was willing to do anything to put a smile on your face. Deep down, you knew he was still in there. He had to be for people to talk about him the way they did. He was admired by everyone he worked with.

“Alright,” you agreed, nodding your head.

“I’m not expecting anything-”

“I know,” you smiled.

“So what was Minnesota like?” he asked, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you walked down the sidewalk.

“Shitty,” you scoffed. “People aren’t that nice. After my first class at my new school, I went into the bathroom and cried. It was the first time I had no one and I was terrified. It’s why I came back to Texas. My mom was too busy with her new boyfriend to even notice.”

“You didn’t make any friends?” he furrowed his brows.

“No. Not a single one. I didn’t go to prom. I thought about skipping graduation,” you confessed. “I never want to feel like that again.”

“Anyone ask you to prom?” he cocked his head.

“Yeah, one guy,” you shook your head. “Only because he thought I was a virgin and he wanted to up his score.”

“Really?” he swallowed hard.

“I told him I had a boyfriend with a huge dick and I wasn’t interested in contracting herpes,” you let out a laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, pulling you in tighter to him.

“What about you? How many girlfriends have you had since?” you poked his side playfully.

“Three including you,” he answered. “I didn’t date anyone for a few years after you. I was about twenty when I started dating a girl who was a year younger and that lasted for about a year. She and I just didn’t click after sometime. Then a couple of years later, I met someone who was really cool. We dated for two years before calling it quits. I work too much and so did she. We were just better off without each other.”

“Sucks when you work a lot in a different country,” you breathed out.

“It does,” he agreed. “You dated anyone else?”

“One guy in college for about three years,” you shared. “Justin. Turns out you can date someone for three years and not really know them all that well.”

“Oh really?” he frowned, leading you into the front doors of the hotel.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I called you a king. Well this guy was more like a street rat in the end.”

“Like Aladdin kind of street rat?” he joked playfully.

“Shut up,” you giggled. ��Worse. Aladdin at least had a good heart. He got the princess in the end. I’m talking about Jafar here!”

“Fuck that guy,” he stated. “You deserve better than that.”

“I had better than that,” you reminded him. “You ever think about what would have happened if my parents never split and I never would have left?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I always come to the same conclusion though.”

“Which is?”

“You hating me,” he revealed. “If you never left, we would have made it to graduation and I would have left for LA and it would have been a messy break up and you would have hated me. Or I would have accidently knocked you up and ruined your life and you would have hated me. Say that never happened, I work in a different country and the distance would have driven us apart and you would have hated me. No situation has a good outcome.”

“You always were an overthinker,” you teased him.

“So are you,” he chuckled.

He led you over to the elevators on the right side of the hotel lobby. His arm was still around you, tucking you into him. You had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen as soon as you entered his hotel room. You knew his expectations were low, and you understood that. But god, did you miss him. You never really realized until his lips were on yours. Everything came flooding back to you. Suddenly, you were sixteen years old again and nothing had changed.

“Jensen,” you whispered as soon as the elevator doors shut. He leaned over, pressing number twenty seven. “I could never hate you.”

“Yeah, but you could not like me and that’s not something I want,” he admitted. “I’m going to be honest with you here. I know I’m a little off tonight. Not that you could tell, but I can.”

“You’re a little clingy,” you joked, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“My best friend got married two weeks ago,” he sighed. “I was one of his groomsmen at the wedding. I just see him with her and how happy they are, and when I did, the first thought that came to mind was you. I still think about you, more than I should. Maybe it’s because we never really split up for a bad reason. Both of us still had strong feelings for each other and we were ripped apart from each other. Then I saw you today, after looking for you for years, in Texas again and I - I just knew I had to take a chance.”

Your mouth went dry at his words as the elevator doors dinged open on floor twenty seven. You didn’t know exactly what to think. Did he just miss you? Was this a mid life, I’m never going to settle down kind of thing? Was he just thinking of you because of what you had a million years ago. Jensen didn’t know the person you were now. He didn’t know what the last fifteen years of your life were like, and you didn’t know about his.

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t miss him. After all, he was the only man you had ever loved. You were convinced he was the love of your life for the longest time.

“W-which room?” you asked him.

“End of the hall,” he pointed to the left.

You stepped out first, holding out your hand for him to take. He ducked his head down, trying to hide his smile before slipping his hand in yours. His hands were rougher than you remember them being, and a little bit bigger. Engulfing yours in warmth. You could smile without him seeing. You didn’t want to give away the fact that you loved the feeling of his hand in yours again.

“Here,” he stopped you, releasing your hand. You stood next to him, watching him slide the key into the door before the green light flashed. He opened up the door, motioning for you to walk inside.

You could smell the cool hotel room air as soon as you stepped inside. The first thing you noticed was the big window on the other side of the room. It took up the entire part of the wall. The view was beautiful. It was nice to see Dallas from this perspective.

You turned around, seeing Jensen standing behind you with his hands in his jean pockets. He was looking at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. Your eyes darted to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. He had his bag on the chair next to the bed.

“So to continue on from what you said in the elevator,” you paused, “you’re in a bit of a dark place, huh?”

“I was,” he admitted. “Then I saw you today. Randomly, out of the blue. You were just there.”

“Coincidence,” you shrugged.

“Or fate,” he swallowed hard.

“Or fate,” you breathed out. You felt your heart rate picking up as you looked at him.

“You haven’t changed much,” he said lowly. “You’re still kind, and caring. You still laugh at the same things. Back then, I thought you couldn’t get anymore beautiful. Until I saw you today.”

“You age like fine wine yourself,” you smirked. “You’re taller, and more muscular.”

“I grew up a bit,” he chuckled.

“Still got your cute lil’ bowlegs though,” you giggled, taking a step towards him.

“Shut up,” he let out a laugh. “God, I want to kiss you again.”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked him, taking a seat on the end of the bed, looking up at him.

“Overthinking,” he let out a dry chuckle.

“Spill.”

“I could kiss you,” he paused. “But then I know I’m going to want to do it over and over again. I don’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to be the reason why we don’t talk again for another fifteen years.”

“I think both of us are afraid of that,” you confessed. “But I’m also going into this prepared for that.”

“So what are you saying?” He asked.

“I’m saying we have tonight. Let’s just focus on that first,” you whispered. “We can go back to our lives after this.”

“Can I at least grab your number before you leave?” he asked you.

“I’ll think about it,” you played, getting up from the bed. “I have to say, it’s really good to see you again.”

He stepped forward, slipping his hand around the small of your back. You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his touch, craving more of it. This time, you allowed yourself to hold him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You stood on your tiptoes, carefully pressing your lips to his in a hesitant kiss. His grip tightened on you, drawing you in closer as he kissed you back.

Memories of the past came rushing back to you. Jensen was just a boy you were best friends with. The one you spent everyday with up until the day you left. You remember the day he kissed you for the first time like it was yesterday. Out in the park where you frequented. He sat at the end of the slide, waiting for you to come down one evening. It was just the two of you left. Everyone had gone home for dinner. He was so smooth and cute about it, which was one of the reasons why you fell so hard for him so quickly.

Every moment from then on led up to now. You wanted this to be another addition to those memories. Your king making his way back to the castle for a moment. You knew it wasn’t going to be permanent and you were almost sure you could handle that, if it meant you had tonight with him.

You parted your lips, deepening the kiss as your arms tightened around his shoulders. Every so often, his nose brushed against the side of yours. His tongue slipped across yours, and you could taste the beer he had with dinner earlier tonight. You want more of him. You wanted every part of him. His touch had heat pooling in your core. The smell of his cologne only entranced you more. You were headed down a path that you couldn’t turn back from. You weren’t sure you even wanted to.

“Jensen,” you breathed out, pulling away just slightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Too much?” he whispered.

“No,” you shook your head. For a moment, you paused, not sure if this was something he was okay with. You wanted his touch, and you craved it. You didn’t know if it was okay the other way around.

You released him from your hold. Your hands making their way to your jacket, quickly peeling it off. Jensen stood there, his eyes locked on your every move. In a moment of confidence, you tore your t-shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor. That confidence quickly fell away when you realized he had probably dated models, and seen so many beautiful women that were so much nicer to look at compared to you. God, what the -

“You’re so damn beautiful, sweetheart,” he said softly. Just like that, one damn word and you were melting into again. He shrugged off his flannel shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He took the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his torso inch by inch. His stomach was soft, just like it was fifteen years ago, only now, he had grown into himself. He had a tiny trail of hairs leading down into his jeans, making you smile. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Jensen,” you whispered, “you’re so handsome.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said with a nervous smile.

“I do,” you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, reaching for the button on your jeans. His hand came up to yours, halting your movements.

“Is this - are you sure?” he furrowed his brows.

“For old times sake,” you winked. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“Fuck,” he smiled, looking down. “For old times sake.”

You continued to undo your pants while he worked on his own. This was definitely happening and you were more than okay with it. You felt that desire building inside you, and you needed to satisfy the itch. You needed him for so many reasons. He stood there in his black boxers. The outline of his cock making an appearance. He looked bigger now than he was back then.

You stood there in your bra and panties, unable to take your eyes off of him. You could feel yourself dripping in your panties. God, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his length inside you again. You wanted to hear him come undone to you touch.

“Do we need-”

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra, letting one of the last articles of clothing fall to the floor. Jensen’s eyes never left your body. You watched as his eyes darkened at the sight of you. His hands reaching for your body for the first time. You melted into his touch, letting your nerves simmer down.

“So perfect,” he muttered under his breath. “I can’t keep my hands off you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to.” Your nipples hardened at the coolness of the air.

You turned in his hold, facing him. His eyes roamed over your body, his bottom lip coming between his teeth. He had such an effect on you and quite frankly you couldn’t get enough now that you had started.

You motioned for him to get on your bed and he did so quickly. You straddled his hips, your centre lining up with the bulge in his boxers. A tiny wave of pleasure coursed through you as you did. Your lips were on his in an instant, your tongue dancing with his. His hands held you tightly against him.

Your heart was soaring in your chest as you kissed him. Your hands traced over every inch of exposed skin like it was the first time. You loved the way he felt beneath you. You loved the way you felt in his hold. It was calming, and warm. Jensen made you feel safe and there was no one in the world you could say made you feel that way and you were slowly starting to realize that.

“Hmm Y/N,” he breathed out. You ground your hips against his, eliciting a groan from his lips. “I’ve gotta have you.”

“Have me,” you muttered.

“Yeah?”

“I like this,” he mumbled.

“You want me on top of you?” You played.

“I want you anyway,” he growled.

You climbed off of him, slipping your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. His eyes hooded with lust and desire as he glanced over you. His smile was soft, and sincere as he did.

You leaned down, dipping your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his legs. His cock sprang free, hitting his stomach with a soft slap. You smirked, throwing one leg over his lap once more. You took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

You pressed your forehead to his, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, eyes that you never thought you’d get to look into again. Now he was staring into yours, trying to learn you all over again.

You sank down on his length, slowly letting him fill you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. The first thrust was always the best. The feeling of being one; of being so damn close to one another. Jensen took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You saw how much they had darkened once he opened them. Your lips collided with his as he bottomed out inside you.

His hands rested between your shoulder blades, pulling you in closer to him. You shifted, lifting your hips before sinking back down, creating a steady pace that worked for both of you. Jensen’s hands slipped down the length of your back, resting them on your ass to help you move on him.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

“Jense,” you breathed out. You gripped his shoulders, bouncing a little faster on his dick. A thin layer of sweat began to bead along your skin.

Jensen held you to him, shifting quickly. Your back hit the mattress. Jensen thrusted into you at a quickened pace. His entire weight was on top of you, adding to the pleasure he brought to you. His cock was dragging perfectly against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer to your breaking point. You could hear the tiny cries that escaped passed his lips as he drove into you. Your nails scrapped down his back, trying to pull him in even closer to you.

His lips attached to the spot beneath your ear as his thrusts slowed down to almost teasingly slow. You let out a moan as he sucked down softly. The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stood up. He paid attention to you and what you liked. You carded your fingers through his hair, something you knew he liked.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled into your neck.

His thrusts picked up a little more. You could tell he was getting closer by the way he was breathing. His mouth was ajar, and his tongue just peaked passed his lips. He was fucking gorgeous before he came, and every other time really. But this was different. Not many people had seen this.

“Jensen, I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead,” he breathed out. “I’m right behind you.”

“Come for me, Jense,” you urged him on, trying to keep up with his thrusts.

Within a few thrusts, your walls were clenching around his cock, squeezing him as pleasure soared through you. Your body was shaking beneath him as you threw your head back against the mattress. Your fingers digging into his back once more. You couldn’t contain your moan, or any of the words that rolled off your tongue. He made you feel so damn good, and you didn’t want to hold back.

Jensen wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusts became sloppy, and inconsistent. He tried to get as close to you as he could. His balls slapping against your ass. He came with a muffled cry of your name, spilling himself deep inside you. He slowed down, letting his orgasm run its course.

He lay on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, waiting for his breathing to even out. The second time was even better than the first and you were thankful it was. It was a nice moment between the two of you. Finally feeling him again like you had craved for years after you left.

“Guess now I can cross have sex with an actor off my bucket list,” you breathed out with a chuckle.

“Shut up,” he shook his head, grinning into your neck before shifting off of you. He withdrew himself from you, and you instantly felt the loss of him. He hopped off the bed, heading into the bathroom. Your eyes wandered down to his perky ass, watching as he walked away.

He came back seconds later with a warm washcloth in his hand. He cleaned you up, just like he did the first time you did this together. You smiled at him. He was still that sweet boy you had known all those years ago.

You made yourself comfortable on the bed, waiting for him to come back and join you. It was just after ten and you didn’t exactly want to leave at this time and make your way home by yourself. You didn’t know if you should stay the night.

“At least this time I actually get to cuddle with you,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to sneak out the window to head home.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” you scoffed. “I wasn’t exactly expecting your brother to come home.”

“Neither was I,” he shook his head. “C’mere.”

You inched over to him, throwing your arm around his waist before intertwining your leg with his. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder before placing a kiss to the top of your head. You could feel yourself slowly unwinding from the day. You were up early to start your orders and didn’t stop until Jensen walked in just after you closed. You were exhausted.

“You smell good,” he muttered, kissing your head once more.

“So do you,” you yawned. “You also stink of sex.”

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly.

Your eyes fluttered open to a dark room. The clock in the corner read four thirty six. You were in a hotel room. Shit, you were in Jensen’s hotel room. You glanced to the other side of the bed, finding Jensen laying there on his back. He was fast asleep.

Guilt rushed through you. What were you doing here? Why were you still here with him? You knew you shouldn’t be. He was Jensen Ackles, an actor. He wasn’t your best friend anymore. He wasn’t that same small town boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. He was a busy, hardworking man now. You were from two completely different worlds. He loved the idea of you and what your past was.

You carefully slipped out of the bed, trying not to make any big movements that would wake him. You bent down, picking up each article of clothing, putting it back on. You were doing him a favour. You couldn’t be that girl he used to know. You couldn’t give up your dreams for a past dream.

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked back at him. He was forever going to be the man you had fallen in love with. The one who treated you like a queen. You couldn’t be that for him now. He deserved better than that. He was simply confused and he saw you and thought of an easy way to get what he wanted.

You tiptoed over to him, leaning over to him. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning to head out. You never expected it to hurt so bad, but it did. Jensen was your happy thought in a world full of misery for two whole years. He was the one thing that got through to you when you felt like giving up.

You slipped out of the hotel room, quietly shutting the door behind you. As soon as you got to the elevators, the tears slipped down your cheeks. It hurt. God, did it hurt. But you were leaving on good terms. You were leaving after a night of reminiscing and soft touches. A night filled with the same passion you had all those years ago. You wanted it to go that way. You wanted him to remember that about you.

You took a taxi back to the shop, trying to keep your tears at bay at that time. You must have looked like a crazy person to the older man. Eyes red and puffy heading to a bakery at nearly five in the morning.

It was just starting to drizzle when you stepped out of the cab after paying for your fare. You had your keys ready in your hand, opening up the door to your shop. Your biggest accomplishment. Everything you had in the small little shop was created by you. You built this. You worked your ass off for this and the way you felt at this very moment - it was like it meant nothing.

You walked into the back of the building, heading up the stairs to get to your apartment located right above the shop. The only way you could keep the costs low. You opened up your apartment door, stepping inside. The second the door shut, the tears kept coming. You were doing the right thing, you reminded yourself. You were doing what was for the best.

Monday morning came quickly. For the first time, you didn’t want to get out of bed and start the day. You didn’t want to go to work and you didn’t want to bake something. You just wanted to take a break. You wanted to go back to three days ago when Jensen wasn’t a thought on your mind. When he was just a public figure on the internet.

You threw on a blue t-shirt and a comfortable pair of black pants. You weren’t bothering with makeup today. You were going to bake and that was it. No customers today. Your sole focus was making cupcakes for a birthday party and a few pies for orders. You could finish by one and go back up to your bed.

“Morning, Y/N,” Victoria smiled at you, handing you your morning coffee.

“Morning,” you smiled at her, reaching for your drink.

“Rough weekend?” she smiled knowingly.

“You have no idea,” you chuckled dryly. “I know I look like ass. If you and Melanie could keep a handle on everything out front. I don’t exactly want to scare customers away with my grudge look today.”

“You look as beautiful as always. You’re just too hard on yourself,” she smiled. “We can take care of things no problem.”

“Thank you,” you gave her a warm smile.

You pulled some of the already prepared cookie dough from the fridge, placing them on three trays to begin filling things up out front. You had your cupcake batter on the go and your buttercream already mixing in the kitchen aid. The smell was starting to fill the kitchen, making you feel more at ease. This is what you were good at. This is what you loved to do.

You poured the chocolate batter into the cupcake holders, adding in a little extra to have bigger cupcakes. It was for a girls birthday party. The buttercream was sitting in the mixer. A nice neon pink colour that was going to go well with the dark chocolate cupcake.

“Hey Y/N,” Melanie poked her head back. “Someone is here asking about the open position.”

“Oh really?” your ears perked up. “Uh well, send them back here and we’ll take it from there.”

“Okay,” she beamed, turning away.

You grabbed your measuring cylinder, placing your piping bag into it so you could get your buttercream ready for when the cupcakes were done. The timer for the cookies went off at the same time. In the corner of your eye, you caught a figure, which had to be the one inquiring about the position.

“I’ll be right with you. I just have a lot on the go,” you told them, grabbing your oven mitts to take the three trays out of the oven. You had a cooling rack next to your oven, perfect for placing lots of products when they were done. “You’re interested in a baking position?”

“Yeah,” the deep voice said. You almost stopped what you were doing. You were definitely expecting a female voice. “I’m only available Saturdays, and the odd Fridays. Depending on when I get off my other job and when I can fly in.”

You turned around, taking a deep breath. Jensen was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He was clearly nervous. He looked about as good as you did, if you were being honest. His eyes were tired.

“Y-you’re not actually interested in the position are you?” you swallowed hard.

“I am,” he nodded. “I can’t bake to save my life but I'm interested.”

“Jensen-”

“Why’d you leave?” he asked you. “I woke up and you were just gone. No sign you had even been there.”

“I can’t, Jensen,” you sighed in defeat, moving over to one of the stools by your counter.

“Why not?” he questioned, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I told you I still have feelings for you-”

“That’s not enough and you know it,” you licked your bottom lip, your eyes casting down. “Feelings don’t make a relationship work, especially not one between two people that barely know each other anymore. I get that your best friend getting married striked something in you and seeing me didn’t help. But I can’t be that girl for you, Jensen. I can’t drop everything I’ve worked for and that’s why it would never work. You’re an actor who works in a different country. I work six days a week here. Timezones, distance, insecurities, doubts, guilt, and god knows what else will come between us. It doesn’t matter if I still love you or not.”

“Do you?” he asked lowly. “Still love me?”

“Of course I do. I never stopped, ” you admitted. “But it’s not enough.”

“I’m not asking you to give this up for me,” he said to you, taking a step closer to you. “I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

“This isn’t because of everything is it?” you dared to ask.

“This is because I love you and I never stopped,” he stated. “I’ll fly down every weekend I don’t work to take a Saturday shift and spend Sundays with you.”

“N-no,” you shook your head.

“Y/N, are those cookies done by chance?” Melanie asked sheepishly. “Sorry, I know you’re in the midst-”

“Yeah, you can take one. They are hot though,” you told her. She snuck passed you with the empty tray in her hand. She moved quickly, placing eight of them in their places before sneaking back out. The tension was growing in the room.

“Why not, Y/N?” he sighed in defeat.

“I can’t be the girl you want me to be, Jensen. I can’t walk red carpets with you and be in the public eye like you are. I can’t be the girl I once was,” you sniffled.

“And I’m not asking you to be,” he declared. “All I want is you. You and whatever comes with you. Whatever shit you’ve been through, whatever it is. I’ll take it as my own. I just know that I love you and I haven’t felt my heart beat the way it has with you in a really long fucking time.”

“You could have anyone -”

“All I want is you,” he repeated. “Long days, phone calls, weekend flights. I’ll do it if it means I can be with you.”

“I work six days a week,” you reminded him.

“I’ll work Saturday’s,” he stated. “You’ve already seen me work.”

“I live in a one bedroom shoe box apartment above this store,” you shared.

“Is that your attempt to get me to change my mind,” he chuckled, taking the stool in front of you. He placed his hands on your legs, looking at you. “Nothing you can say will change my mind. I looked for you for ten years, Y/N. Now that I found you again, I’m not losing you.”

“I don’t have money to fly to you,” you argued.

“Don’t care. I’ve got frequent flyer points,” he smiled. “Anything else?”

“I think I’m done now,” you admitted with a half smile. “For now.”

“So do I have the job?” he cocked his head to the side.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re on probation though.”

“Is it because I can’t bake?” he let out a laugh.

“Yes. One hundred percent.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “But do me a favour?”

“Anything,” you looked up at him.

“Don’t ever leave me in the middle of the night like that again,” he breathed out, leaning over. He pressed his lips to your cheek.

“Promise,” you agreed. “I gotta work now, darlin’.”

“Put me to work, sweetheart. I can fit in a couple of hours before my flight,” he winked. “I’ll be back Friday night for three days.”

“Good,” you beamed, holding your hand out for him to take. You helped him off the stool and led him over to the counter. You handed him an apron so he wouldn’t get his shirt dirty.

“Hey Y/N,” Victoria smiled as she walked back into your work area. “Did we hire this one?”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a wide grin. “For now.”

“Good,” she smiled. “It’s about time you let someone in. Glad it’s heart eyes.”

“Heart eyes?” Jensen furrowed his brows.

“You gave me heart eyes when you saw me Saturday afternoon,” you teased him.

“Crazy heart eyes,” she pointed out. “Break her heart and I’ll break your face.”

“Victoria,” you said, wide eyed.

“I don’t care who he is,” she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “I can take on Dean Winchester.”

“There’s an idea,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your table.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Jensen smirked.

“Nothing, darlin’.”

“Yeah okay,” he chuckled, leaning over to you, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You smiled against him, finally allowing yourself to truly enjoy it for the first time. You really were childhood sweethearts. You only hoped that you became a couple that was destined to grow old together. Either way, you were glad you were entering this journey with Jensen by your side.

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

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response keeps me writing!

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the-darkfactory · 3 years

Text

A SICK GIRL.

This text was written and published in November 2018. This is the first time I translate to English. Hope it reaches those who need to read it most. Much love.

I was born dying. I was dragged from my mom's belly straight to the intensive care unit and spent a month in the incubator until I could breathe without machines. I was also born whole and no one ever told me that, one day, my mind was going to split in two.

I was very little when I first felt strange. Very strange. I was already 5’6 feet tall when I started my last year in primary school, finding clothes that fit me was torture. However, for my graduation party, I found a purple dress that seemed perfect. When I tried it on, under that all-showing light in the changing room, I felt fat. That was the first time I was disgusted by my reflection.

After a summer tinged with school farewell melodrama, I started high school. I spent most of my free time studying, listening to the Backstreet Boys or reading Harry Potter. At the end of the first semester, I got the best grades in my class. While everyone at home was happily celebrating, I made a pact with a friend: I was going to stop eating.

My thinness brought about new habits and what I remember the most is how cold I was: during school recess, my friends would go out to play and I would stay in the classroom wearing every sweatshirt I could find. It would take me forty-five minutes to eat an apple and before going to sleep, I would go over each food item I’ve had in the day and calculate the calories. I also learned that I had to get up slowly to avoid the dizziness that turned my room into a washing machine.

One day my family and I went to one of those “all you can eat” restaurants. After two sandwiches and a bit of cake, I started crying because I had an intense stomach ache, but it was all a premeditated drama I staged so they wouldn't make me have dinner. Two days later, my mom dragged me to a clinic. I had to take off my clothes and stand on an ice-cold scale. "You weigh 39 kilos," the doctor announced. "You're anorexic."

I was taken to a hospital that had a team specializing in treating people like me. We waited for hours until my name was called and I was met by an anti-anorexic army: a nutritionist, a clinical doctor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and others I never understood who they were. They made my parents leave and Anorexia and I were interrogated. They asked us if we vomited, if we had thought about committing suicide and if we had ever been abused. When we talked about my parents' divorce, we burst into tears. Then they faced the back of two chairs and asked us to separate them according to how far apart we felt they had to be from each other in order for us to fit between them. We did it and passed the test: we knew we were tiny. The doctors said I was on the verge of hospitalization. I was a sick girl.

Once our relationship was made official, we went to the hospital three times a week. Long waiting, weighing, talking. We were forbidden to be physically active and we had to write down how much of what we ate a day. Mom sometimes comforted us and sometimes shouted at us. One night she yelled a lot because we had only had a piece of fruit for dinner, but how could I explain to her that eating made Anorexia hurt and so it hurt me too? We were sent to a psychologist we stared at in silence for an hour. We finished our junior year with straight As, enslaved at home and undernourished.

Anorexia and I did everything together. I would start a sentence and she would finish it. When I moved my hand to grab something, she was the one who forced my fingers closed, and if something bothered her, I did whatever was necessary to calm her down. One afternoon, we went cycling with our friends and we were carried on the handlebars so we wouldn't move. Everything was going beautifully until a sudden stop made us fall face first to the ground. We got up spitting teeth and blood. We broke our four incisors, skin came off our lips and we split the right side of our face. That night before showering, I stared at our skeletal, beaten up reflection. Days shy of my fourteenth birthday, I cried my heart out asking Anorexia what the fuck had she done.

I wanted her to go away. The only thing I could do to get her to leave was eat. Sometimes she won, sometimes I won. Once, she lost 100 grams and I went home after the medical check up feeling a killer urge. Another day, I gained 200 and that night she didn’t let me sleep. It was war. If Anorexia told me to hide food, I ran off to snack with my brother. If she hated sandwiches, I'd buy a dozen of my favorites. For every complaint of hers, a food bite of mine, and so, bite by bite, I filled her mouth with silence until I could no longer hear her speak.

I started my second year of high school with a seemingly healthy weight. I went to the hospital once a week. Eventually, I was told I could go once a fortnight, once every twenty-one days and, somehow, I stopped going altogether. I don’t remember how or when that decision was made. The only thing I do know is that during all that time I ate almost nothing from Monday to Friday and a lot from Saturday to Sunday in order to weigh more at the Monday check-ups. The thing was that once the pact between Anorexia and I had been made, she would try and talk to me every day. People didn't notice but I knew she was still there. We were still the best students, we lifted weights after eating a salad and we never got our periods. We were stopped on the streets to be offered jobs at modeling agencies and we realized that our bond had the aesthetic approval of society. I forgave her for all she had done and gave her, again, space in my body to grow.

When we turned seventeen, Anorexia changed. She screamed at me and didn't feel like doing anything. We quit the gym, gained weight and developed insomnia. One drunken night, we came home and went straight to the kitchen. We opened the fridge and devoured, on our knees, all the leftovers from dinner. We then shoved our fingers down our throats. That's how Bulimia arrived.

Bulimia was fiercely hungry. My cheeks, arms, and chin grew like a fatty bubble. I was disgusted by my body and I got dressed in the dark. I stopped studying, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. At prom I had two drinks and passed out. I woke up in hospital with an IV in my arm and my worried mother by my side. I didn't know how to explain that for weeks and in order to be skinny that night, everything I ate, Bulimia vomited.

I wanted to feel normal. I was very weak and exhausted, but Bulimia was young and confident. She never shut up, she would even eat raw polenta in spoonfuls and vomit it all, leaving me tired and confused lying in my bed. Her arrival was abrupt because Anorexia had already drilled holes in my head: they were different versions of the same thing and a pattern of destructive habits that infected everything. They turned my life into a living hell.

We vomited so much that we spent hours burying our heads in the toilet seat and we would only stop when we saw the first thing we had eaten leaving our body. We did it five, six times a day. We used every bathroom we set foot in. The ones at school, my friends' houses, restaurants, my grandmother's, my dad's. I developed arrhythmia and thought that Bulimia was going to get me killed. Some nights, while dreaming that I was violently bingeing, I would wake up desperate and ready to stick my fingers in my mouth until I realized that, that one time, the binge had been a dream. That feeling of “fake need to vomit” was the closest thing to peace I felt during those times.

Bulimia didn't want me around anyone. She made me think I was crazy and that I would never be able to be separated from her. I stayed away from my friends. I stopped having dinner with my family and we would lock ourselves up in my room. Mom would bring me trays of food that Bulimia kept in plastic bags. I once found a rotten chicken inside the closet. It was full of maggots. We were almost found out when my brother saw a glass of vomit in the bathroom that we had forgotten to flush down the toilet. He brought it to me and said, "Is this yours?" while retching. We nodded and took it away from him as if it had been a misplaced shoe.

I don't know how I managed to free myself from anorexia and bulimia, but for the last three years I have hardly felt their presence. Sometimes I wonder if I started traveling around the world to confuse them and leave them stranded in another part of the planet. Maybe they got bored of my criticism and couldn't stand my will to not share my body with them. One thing I’m sure of is that love played a major part. It was crucial to understand that I did not choose to live with them and that asking a person with compulsive thoughts to stop having them is like asking a paralytic to simply stand up and walk.

Anorexia and bulimia stole my time and energy. I gave them my will to live, my projects and motivations. In return, they gave me anxiety, panic attacks, depression and suicidal thoughts. They still whisper to me every now and then but I can ignore them. It’s not always easy. I don’t know, this coexistence has been very strange but they definitely don’t own me anymore. Looking for the reasons I developed this disorder is complex. I know that I was affected by the pressure I felt from a very young age to be perfect, the weirdness that arose in my family dynamics after the divorce and feeling that for society I was worth more as a woman the skinnier I was. The final trigger must have been a genetic predisposition and a bit of mystery: there is still a lot that science doesn't know about all this. Once my disease was established, it became a vicious, out-of-control cycle that was perpetuated by the worst evil of all: silence. I felt a deep shame, thought it was my fault and that, hence, I deserved what was happening to me. That made me sicker and I vowed to hide it, which was possible because these disorders are invisible: they lock themselves inside bodies of all types, gender, background, shape and turn them into slaves.

When I stopped vomiting and regained control of my hands, I wrote this. It feels weird. After seventeen years of being in a symbiotic relationship, there is something I still don't understand: if I am no longer a sick girl, then who am I?

#bulimia #anorexia #eatingsdisorders

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adenei · 3 years

Text

Always A Bridesmaid, Never a Bride - Ch. 2

so much for only posting one chapter a week...oh well. You’re welcome for those of you who are into this!

AO3 || FFN

---RON---

“Ron, hey! Have a good weekend?” Neville Longbottom approached me as I walked into my office at The Telegraph.

“Hey, Nev. Yeah, I guess. You?”

“It was great! You missed out on Saturday night. The film festival was spectacular!”

“Yeah, well, in case you’ve forgotten, I work Saturday nights. I call it the curse of the commitments.”

I knew Neville meant well and he was a good friend, but he seemed to forget that I’m stuck in this hell hole having to attend weddings and then portray them as these beautiful, fairy tale level events. This was not what I anticipated my writing career to look like, yet here I was.

“Right. Sorry. It must be a truly despicable life. Dining on free food and red velvet cake. Was it a good wedding, at least? Find anyone to shack up with?” Neville asked.

I almost snorted out the sip of coffee I’d just taken. Nevile knew that I wasn’t on the pull, right? Let alone looking for someone to move in with. “Hardly. How many times do I have to tell you, one night stands and weddings are not a good mix, no matter how many people say otherwise.”

“But there has to be single bridesmaids looking for a fun night with no commitments,” Neville pressed.

“Maybe there are, but I’m not going for it. It’s not worth it.” I waved Neville off as I set my stuff at my desk and made my way over to my boss’s office.

I’d been waiting the rest of the weekend to unveil my brilliant story idea. I was convinced this would finally promote me out of the commitments section. Not bothering to knock, I strode in and dropped the overflowing Filofax on my editor’s desk.

“This better be important, Weasley,” Rita Skeeter said.

“Er, yeah. I’ve got a story idea I wanted to run by you,” I said. All the confidence I was feeling before somehow disappeared as soon as I stepped into her office.

Rita kept on working as she said, “We’ve been through this before. I hired you to write wedding announcements, not investigative pieces.” I could tell she was not in the mood, but I’d given this far too much thought to give up.

“All I'm asking for is a chance to prove to you that I can offer my writing skills to other sections of the paper—”

“If this is another story proposition about exposing some minute detail of how the wedding industry is ripping people off, you can walk right out of this office. I don’t have any interest in hearing it.”

“But those were meaningful stories! People deserve to know that bakeries are overcharging for cakes. You could ask for an elaborate birthday cake design and the price would be significantly less because it’s not for a wedding! They’re conning innocent people just because they’re in love!”

“Readers don’t want stories on the price gouging, Ron! They want happy, feel good stories that give them hope, and you do that quite well. Your articles make most of our money, and I’d be insane to switch you to a different section!” Rita said with a tone of finality.

“Just hear me out. Please? I promise this is a good one.” I opened the Filofax. “This girl’s been in seven weddings—”

“So?” Rita responded. She sounded unimpressed.

“—This year. She was in two this past weekend alone. On the same night! There’s a story here, and I can sense it. She’s like a perpetual bridesmaid. There has to be a reason for it. She doesn’t strike me as the type that has that many friends.”

Rita finally looked up at me. I couldn’t read what she was thinking, but I was mentally preparing to be shot down again. Not this time, though. I needed to fight back for this one. It might be the only way I can get close to Hermione again.

“Fine.”

“Seriously, Rita I can make this—wait, what?”

“I said, ‘fine.’ I’m giving you a chance. Two weeks to find something out of this, and we’ll see what happens.”

“Four,” I said. Two was nowhere near enough time.

“Three, and that’s it.”

“Okay. And if you like it, I move out of commitments for good,” I said firmly.

“Ron—”

“I’m serious. I’ll quit. I can’t spend the rest of my career finding creative ways to highlight baby’s breath and sugar roses.”

“Fine. But you won’t quit. I know you better than that.” Rita picked up the Filofax and handed it to me before ushering me out of her office. “Now, get that adorably cute face out of here before I change my mind.”

I flashed a grin at her. “You won’t be disappointed.”

If the indication from our conversation in the taxi told me anything, it was that I had my work cut out for me. I opened her Filofax and set to work. A plan was already formulating, and I was eager to set it in motion.

This was my chance. My ticket out. Now, I just had to get close to the woman who drove me insane two nights ago. The woman I was unable to get out of my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was just because of the bridesmaid thing, I kept telling myself. That was it.

---- HERMIONE ----

Monday rolled around far too quickly, but I was okay with it. Harry was coming back from a conference after being out of the office last week. I made sure things ran smoothly while he was gone since that was my job. You could call me his assistant, but I was also second in command of the company he’d started from scratch: Second Chance Publishers.

Harry Potter was the ultimate entrepreneur, and I was lucky to work for him. He was everything you could wish for in a boss. Kind and understanding, yet firm and determined in his vision. He was always one who wanted to help the underdog, hence the company’s name. We read author’s manuscripts that had been tossed aside from leading publishing agencies, and gave the promising ones a chance. It’d been eight years and the company was still going strong.

Harry had taken a chance when he hired me fresh out of university, and I like to think I’ve proved indispensable since then. I was incredibly lucky to work in a position where my opinion mattered and I felt needed, like I belonged. Not to mention my boss was unequivocally sexy, and somehow still single.

Single was a good thing. That meant I may still have a chance. He had to notice me eventually, right? Okay, yes, I’ll admit it; I fancy my boss, but it’s innocent! I swear.

I needed to stop thinking about him. The anticipatory butterflies were already fluttering in my stomach, and I needed to get them under control. Coffee in hand, I walked the remainder of the two blocks to the office, and met Lavender on her way in.

“Never made it home this weekend, I see,” I said with a smile as I handed her coffee over. I was totally judging her and she knew it. I was never one to engage in one night stands and she knew it.

Lavender gave me a smug smile and ignored my question. “Maybe. Not that I could find you to stop me. What happened to you the other night? You were hardly there and then you left with that guy. Did you get lucky?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot. You’re holding out for Mr. Right,” Lavender scoffed.

I ignored her comment as we meandered through the main doors into the office. Luna Lovegood, the receptionist, was sitting at the front desk. “Morning, Luna!”

“Hi!” she said brightly.

“Question for you: have you seen my Filofax around anywhere by chance?”

“No,” she answered simply.

“Oh, okay then. It’s probably in my office. No problem. I’ll keep looking. Did you happen to send out the order I left on your desk Friday afternoon for the manufacturer?”

She looked nonplussed. “No.”

“Alright. No big deal, I’ll take care of it,” I said as we continued on down the hall.

“Wow, Hermione, you really told her,” Lavender said.

I sighed. “It’s fine, Lav, I should have done it myself anyway..”

“But you’re the boss, you’re allowed to tell people what to do.”

“I’m not the boss, and you know that. I’m the boss’s assistant. There’s a difference.”

“Correction, there would be a difference if the boss didn’t rely on you so much as well.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I just like my job.”

“Or maybe, it’s not the job you like, but the boss,” she raised her eyes knowingly at me.

“Get to accounting, Lavender,” I told her, since I wasn’t willing to admit that she was right.

“Oh, sure, now you get bossy,” she said as she meandered off.

I chuckled to myself as I walked into my office and got settled for the day. My first point of business was to find my Filofax. That held my life. Every appointment and event was written in there. Not to mention all my cut outs of details I loved and wanted to incorporate for my own dream wedding. I searched high and low and it was absolutely nowhere to be found.

Giving up, I turned to my computer and attempted to get some work done. My productivity didn’t last very long, though. I looked up a half hour later to see a flower delivery at the front desk. Did Luna just point to me? My heart beat a little faster in my chest. I think she did. The man was walking towards me and stopped just outside my office.

“Hermione Granger?” he asked.

“That’s me,” I said in a hushed voice.

“These are for you,” he said as he handed them to me and turned to leave.

I was dumbstruck. I never received flowers, let alone at work! Setting them on my desk, I began searching for the note card that should have accompanied the beautiful bouquet, but nothing was there to reveal the mystery sender.

“Oh, sure, I spend all weekend in bed with a guy and you’re the one who’s sent flowers!”* Lavender sounded annoyed as she strolled into my office. “Who are they from?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t say.” My voice still sounded shocked.

When I turned to look at Lav, I watched as her face went from annoyed, to understanding, and then it finally settled on pity. “Hermione, no, you can’t possibly think it’s from him.”

“Well, who else could it be?” I asked indignantly.

“I don’t know, but you’ve got to stop this! You’re in love with a man who doesn’t even know you exist.”

“I am not in love with him,” I lied. “And he does too know I exist.”

“Yeah, in a ‘she’s my assistant’ kind of way, not in a ‘she’s so sexy I want to rip her clothes off and have mind blowing sex with her’ way.”*

“You don’t know that,” I said weakly.

“I do too know that! Honestly, at least get it under control, will you? The whole office knows,” Lavender argued.

“They do not!” I said incredulously.

Luna, who was passing by my door at that exact moment, must have heard Lavender and chimed in. “Yes, we do.” She smiled at both of us and kept right going before I could stop her.

“See?” Lavender pressed. “I’m telling you—” she was cut off by a dog barking, which could only mean one thing.

“Pads!” I cried as the large black dog darted towards me.

“Hey, Padfoot, easy there. Hermione doesn’t want a face full of slobber this morning,” came Harry’s sultry, baritone voice.

“No, no, it’s okay!” I said quickly as I stood back up. “Hi. How was the conference?”

“Brilliant! If things went as well as I hope they did, we may be expanding into the American and Canadian markets.”

“That’s wonderful!” I noticed Lavender pretend to gag from over Harry’s shoulder.

“How are things here? Have we met our quota for the end of the month?” Harry immediately began business talk. I liked a boss who was no nonsense and wanted to make sure things stayed on track.

“Almost. There’s a few manuscripts to get through, and we’re waiting on approval from Hopkirk on the illustrations. If we can get that soon, the art department can move forward, and we should have the new publication out by the middle of next month.

“Great. I’ll make a point to call her personally to see if we can get the process moving more quickly.”

I nodded. “Just so you know, you’ve got an 11:00 meeting with marketing. Oh, and the Boys and Girls Club has an event coming up that they’d like you to speak at. Nothing too intensive, just a few words on the impact that reading has had on their kids, and how you’ve seen the program grow since you’ve become involved. But it will be a formal affair,” I added.

“Ah, so I suppose that means I’ll need to bring a date,” Harry acknowledged.

“Yes, probably,” I said with a small smile. I was trying to hide the hope that he might ask me. It was a work event. Sort of…

“Well, I guess that’s one aspect of my life that I shouldn’t need your help with, right?” he said with a chuckle.

“Er, yeah, right,” I said regretfully.

I watched as he turned and left my office. Lavender looked like she wanted to say something. “Don’t even start.”

“Fine. Hey, what are you doing before Luna’s sten party tonight? I’m meeting some friends for pre-drinks. You could use the distraction!”

I laughed at her brazenness. “My neighbor is coming back into town. I promised I’d pick her up at the train station

and we’d grab a bite before the party.” I lowered my voice for what I was about to say next. “Who schedules a sten party on a Monday anyways?”

“Are you just starting to question Luna’s decisions now? And is that the neighbor you’ve been friends with since you moved in, but know nothing about? The one who disappears for months on end?”

“Yeah, Jenny. But she’s really nice, and fun to hang out with when she’s in town. There’s only so much I can take of you,” I joked.

“You wouldn’t know what to do without me,” Lavender scoffed.

Just then, Harry popped his head back in my office. “Hey, Hermione, did you leave the coffee on my desk?”

“What? Oh, yes. It was nothing. I, er—I figured you might want it,” I said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Thanks! You were right, just like always,” he smiled and I thought my legs were turning to jelly. “That’s why I love ya,” he added as he disappeared from my doorway.*

I was awestruck. “I love you, too,” I said quietly under my breath as I watched him walk away*.

Slap! Lavender smacked me hard across the face. “Get it together!” she snapped.

I shook my head as I cleared my head from the haze. “Y-yeah. Yup. Thanks. I needed that.”

Lavender had no words for me. I always appreciated her realistic view on things, even if it was a bit crass. The fact that she was speechless over what had just happened was like someone dumping ice water down my back, and the cold realization creeped through my veins. I had it bad for my boss, and I was stuck.

~o~

I was right on time when I arrived at the train station to pick up Jenny. She’d been away for six months, which was longer than normal, but I was excited that she was coming home for a while. I loved Lavender and her friendship, but sometimes she was a bit much. Jenny was way more relaxed, and didn’t press me as much about my personal life. Soon enough I saw her flaming red hair in the crowd. I waved and it didn’t take long for her to spot me.

“Hermione!” I heard her cry as she made her way over to me. She wrapped me in a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I’m sorry you had to pick me up. My brother bailed on me last minute.”

“Ah, yes, this mysterious brother you insist exists, yet I’ve never met in our five years of sharing the same building,” I joked. “Come on, I’ve already called for takeaway.”

“Brilliant! I’m starved. Fish and chips, I hope? I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had a good English classic,” she said eagerly.

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Jenny threw her arm around my shoulder as I took one of her bags and we made our way to the taxis. The ride took a bit longer than usual since it was rush hour, but our takeaway was still warm by the time we got to the flat. Jenny dropped her bags off in her flat next door to mine, and then met me a few minutes later.

“Finally! I was drooling in the taxi,” she said.

“So, how were your travels this time around?” I asked between bites.

“Eh, same old, same old. It’s a rough schedule being on the job for six months and then off, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“You’re an athletic trainer for one of the female football teams, right?” I attempted to verify.

“Something like that, yeah. It’s hard to believe I’ve finished my sixth season already.”

I nodded, storing that information in the file I had in my brain for her. I’d learned a good deal about Jenny over the past few years, even if it was nothing terribly close to her personal life. I knew she wasn’t overly fond of animals, hated cleaning, and could drink anyone into the ground and be completely fine the next day. She was strikingly beautiful with chocolate brown eyes that possessed a hardness to them when she showed the world her ‘no nonsense’ attitude. I was sure she had no trouble finding men even with her crazy work schedule getting in the way.

“Soooo,” Jenny said, interrupting my thoughts. “What’s been going on with you? Have you met a man yet?”

Maybe I’d spoken too soon when I said I appreciated her friendship more than Lav’s. “No, still single, but I received flowers from some anonymous person at work today,” I mentioned with a chuckle.

“Oh? Tell me more!”

“It was nothing, really. Just a delivery with no note. I have an idea who may have sent them, but they never came forward.”

“Do you think it’s from your mysterious workplace crush? Have they finally noticed what they’ve been missing out on?”

“One can only hope,” I said as I shrugged. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“Probably dumping the contents of my luggage on the floor of my bedroom and crashing, if I’m being honest. Why? Do you have anything planned?”

“Luna, the receptionist at work is having her sten party at XOXO,” I told her. “You’re more than welcome to join if you’d like. Meet new people, reacquaint yourself with London’s nightlife…”

“At an Indie bar? We’ll see how I’m feeling after this food digests. I’m way too full to think about going anywhere,” she said.

“Well, the offer stands if you decide you want to meet me there later on, though I don’t blame you for wanting to make a date with your sofa instead.”

We got up and took care of the containers. As Jenny was getting ready to leave, I saw her pause by the counter. “What are these?” she asked as she picked up several newspaper clippings.

“Nothing!” I said quickly, snatching them out of her hand.

“Do you really save wedding announcements?” Jenny asked me.

“Not all of them! Just the ones written by Billy Weston. He’s the best!” I insisted.

Jenny was looking at me quizzically before she headed for the door. “Well, you do you, I guess. Thanks for picking me up again! And for dinner. I owe you one.”

“No problem! It’s good to have you back.” Jenny flashed me a smile before she left.

I hoped that maybe someday she’d trust me enough to let me in on the parts of her life she kept locked up tight. The least I could do in the meantime was be a good friend. For now, I needed to get ready for the sten party.

~o~

Lavender and I were walking away from the bar in the club when I heard someone say Harry’s name. He was here! I turned in time to see him making his way over to us.

“You got them annual passes to the London Zoo and Aquarium,” I said, noticing the worried look on his face.

“Great! Thanks, Hermione. Any chance she’ll believe it’s from me?” Harry asked.

“Maybe. You do an okay job of getting to know your employees, so I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty shot,” I quipped.

He gave a look of approval. “Excellent. I’m going to head to the bar and get a drink. Do you guys need anything?”

I chuckled as I said, “No, thanks. I’m set.” I held up my own drink as Lavender also shook her head no.

Harry nodded and walked away as Lavender looked at me incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” she shot me a look.

“What?”

“When a guy asks to buy you a drink, you always say yes! Even if you already have one. If you ask for a sex on the beach, it’s a subtle hint to indicate what you’re hoping for later.”

I shook my head. “Honestly, Lav, do you ever not have sex on your mind?”

“What’s wrong with that? It might finally get you what you’re hoping for. He buys you a drink, you talk about something other than work, he sees you more than just his assistant and voila! Happily ever after!” She lifted her drink in a cheers motion.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous statement. “We already do talk about things other than work. I’m not going to rush him into anything.’

Lavender rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“No, I’m responsible.”

“What guy wants responsible?” Lavender was clearly getting flustered now.

“Harry! He loves my responsibility and appreciates me for who I am,” I insisted.

“Well, yeah, but he might appreciate you more if he knew what you wanted,” Lavender said just before clamping her mouth down on her straw and taking a big swig of her drink.

I gave her a look as Harry made his way back over to us. “Hey, Hermione, I hope that thing I left on your desk this morning was okay…” he said quietly.

“That...thing?” I said breathlessly, immediately thinking of the flowers.

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of a new level for us and I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

‘Y-yeah! Yes! Totally fine with it! Definitely,” I said as a grin broke out on my face.

“Great. Er, thanks,” Harry said as he nodded to me and took off to mingle.

I turned to Lavender. “It was him. He sent me the flowers. Oh my God! Lavender, he sent me the flowers!”

“Holy shit, he really did!” I could tell by the shocked look on her face she couldn’t believe it either. “What are you waiting for?!” she asked.

“W-what?” I asked, confused.

“What are you waiting for? Go over there and tell him how you feel! He made the first move with the flowers! It’s now or never! Go declare your love! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s your fairy tale moment.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Go. Yes, I’ll go,” I said awkwardly.

Lavender pushed me in his direction and I began walking slowly his way. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for years to come face to face with! My heart was beating faster with each step.

I was only a few paces away when I saw him notice something. I followed his gaze across the dance floor and saw Jenny looking around, probably for me. I was used to seeing her dressed down in a pair of jeans or sweats, but she was actually done up nicely. Her makeup was done, and her straight red hair fell over her shoulders. She was wearing a shimmery emerald green dress that showed off a bit more than I would have ever expected from her.

I saw her notice Harry, giving him a small smile. I should have stopped and turned around when they were clearly making their way toward each other, but I couldn’t stop my feet. They just kept propelling me forward. Ironically, I met up with them just as they stopped in front of each other.

Jenny noticed me out of the corner of her eye and muttered, “Hermione.”

“Oh, er, right. Harry, this is my friend Jenny, Jenny this is my Harry—no! I mean, this is my boss, Harry,” I clarified. How humiliating!*

“Yeah, Hermione’s the best assistant anyone could possibly have. Half the time she knows what I need even before I do, and she’s always willing to help,” he said nervously. Since when did Harry get nervous? “Just this morning I left Padfoot’s groomer appointment slip on her desk. It was last minute and I had a meeting, so I asked Hermione to drop him off for me.”

I felt like I’d been sucker punched in the gut. The flowers weren’t from him after all. How stupid was I to get my hopes up?

“Ah, Pads’ appointment. Right,” I tried to say as lightly as I could.

“Well, a clean dog is rather important,” Jenny agreed in a sweet voice.

“Would you like to get a drink?” Harry asked. He only had eyes for her.

“Well, I came to get a drink with my friend, but I couldn’t possibly say no,” Jenny giggled. Since when was Jenny a giggler?

My worst nightmare was coming true. Harry was clearly smitten with my neighbor. This wouldn’t be happening if I’d never invited her to come along, and now I’m watching them get a drink together.

Before I could turn and leave, there was a tap on my shoulder. It was Ron. “What are you doing here?” I asked. I was totally shocked to run into him again.

“Fancy meeting you here! Did you like the flowers?” he asked me.

“What? Those were from you?” I asked. My voice definitely sounded rude.

He nodded with the lopsided grin flashing across his face. “Er, yeah. Did you like them?”

“Oh great, the marriage hating cynic left me romantic mystery flowers this morning. How ironic!” Could this day get any worse?

“Yeah, I guess you could put it that way. Oh, also, I have something for you.” He paused, and I watched him dig around in his satchel. “Here you go!”

It was my Filofax. “Oh, thank God! You found it!”

“Yeah, it was in the back of the cab. You should be more careful where you leave stuff like this. It was either I meet you here tonight or Thursday at your dad’s birthday party.” He laughed like it was a joke, but I was deeply offended and creeped out.

“You read it?”

He shrugged. “I tried to. I didn’t know anyone could fill up every possible centimeter on the page,” he joked again.

I didn’t find it funny, and what made matters worse was I now saw Harry leaning in and whispering into Jenny’s ear. She was smiling and flirting and it felt like my life was falling apart.

“Hey, Ron, could you hold this for a sec?” I asked as I shoved my drink in his hand.

He never got a chance to respond as I made my way to the nearest exit to get some air. Luckily the club was loud enough so no one inside could hear the scream of fury that was escaping my lips. I wasn’t proud of the vulgar language I let out, but tonight called for it. I stopped abruptly when I heard someone clear their throat. I looked up and realized the door I’d left didn’t actually lead outside, but to another room where a child’s birthday party was taking place.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t—5 years old, wow. Congratulations!”

I knew my face was red as I swiftly turned around and made my way back into the club. I reluctantly walked back over to Ron. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he said, handing my drink back to me. “Do you want to get a drink?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t know…” I said. I suddenly wasn’t in the mood.

“Come on, it’s just one drink,” he said. “Let me prove to you I’m not some creep.”

“It’s not that. I just—I won’t be any fun tonight,” I admitted.

“Oh, er, alright then. Well, maybe I’ll see you around? Thursday?” he joked again.

I glared at him. “Goodnight, Ron.”

He gave me an awkward wave as he turned to leave. Lavender had suddenly appeared behind me. “Ooooh, who was he and where can I get one?”*

“He’s no one, Lav,” I said. I wasn’t in the mood anymore, and I just wanted to go home.

“What happened?” She asked, concerned.

“It’s a long story. I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.

I found myself walking over to the bar, approaching Harry and Jenny in a last ditch effort before giving up. “Hey,” I said to them. “Jenny, you must be tired from all that traveling today. Do you want to share a taxi?”

“What? Oh, no Hermione, I’m fine,” she said dismissively. “Harry, do you want to go somewhere more quiet?”

“Sure, I know a place a few blocks from here.”

“What? No—Jenny, it’s getting—” I tried to interject, but nothing could break their attention from each other.

“Brilliant! I hardly ever explore this side of town,” Jenny said to him.

“Do you want to join, Hermione?” Harry asked.

I looked between Harry and Jenny, and she was giving me a frown and a slight shake of her head, willing me to say no. Of course, I couldn’t let her down, so I said, “Oh, no. You two go. I need to get back.” That was it. My chance was officially blown.

“Maybe next time,” Jenny said convincingly. “Let’s get coffee in the morning, yeah? I’ll text you!”

I nodded weakly as I watched them get up and head for the door. Jenny turned around mouthed ‘Thank you! You’re the best,’ before taking the arm Harry held out for her. My heart felt like it was shattering to pieces.

I caught a taxi and made my way home, resisting the urge to cry. There was no way I was going to sleep tonight. I tried to do a few things to tire myself out, like clean the kitchen and doing a home workout, but I found myself obsessively checking the peep hole in my door, and listening intently to hear whether Jenny had come home and whether or not Harry had joined her.

Just the mere thought sent needles through my heart. At around two in the morning, I gave up and forced myself to go to bed. It was everything I could do to avoid getting up. Eventually, after a lot of tossing and turning, I managed to fall asleep.

#romione #muggle au #romione muggle au #ron x hermione #27 dresses inspired

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Sweet tooth

Architect Mark X Baker reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Extremely cheesy fluff

Summary: As soon as you graduated from culinary school, you wanted to follow your dream in opening your own bakery but you had no idea where to start. Your professor recommends an architect to help you make your dreams a reality but little did you know, you’d be falling in love with said architect the longer he helped you out on the project.

A/N: Hi guys! I have a few more requests in my inbox and I just wanted to let you all know that I didn’t forget about you it’s just that my mom has been sick so I’ve been taking care of her and all the house duties so I haven’t had much free time to write stories but here is the architect Mark anon! I hope you enjoy! In all honesty, I feel like this was rushed and it’s one of the stories I’ve written that I care about the least because I feel that it’s all over the place but it’s fine lol

Opening your own bakery has been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember. You’ve been baking all sorts of cakes, pies, cookies, breads and pastries since you were seven years old. Whenever you’d visit your grandparent’s house during the summertime, your grandmother would always take you to the bakery down the road for a little treat.

The sweet aroma of the different jams they used along with the smell of yeast and baked bread would immediately fill your nose as soon as you walked in and you were always excited to see all the different types of desserts out on display. Right after your grandmother would finish paying for your choice of confection, she would bring you towards the window where you’d be able to watch the bakers preparing and making all of the delicious treats.

As you got older, your love for baking only increased. You’d make all sorts of treats in your downtime causing your mom to freak out by the mess you would leave once you were done mixing all your ingredients together. You went straight in to culinary school right after graduating from high school and even took on a part time job at the bakery a few blocks down from your house. On the days that you weren’t at work or school, you would be in the kitchen coming up with and testing out many different recipes that you would plan to sell at your own bakery one day. Whenever, you did go to work, the day always seemed to go by very quickly. Time seems to fly by very quickly when you’re having fun and you always seemed to have a good time when you were in your element.

Because you were very passionate and dedicated to your craft and couldn’t wait to graduate in order to start up your own business, you began taking on more classes and cutting back on hours at the bakery in order to graduate sooner. There were nights where you cried over how frustrating school could be and you got so stressed out to the point where your pastries weren’t coming out the way you wanted them to. However, you had a dream and you were determined to achieve your goals in the timeline that you set up for yourself.

Only three years after you entered college, you graduated culinary school with your bachelor’s degree and you couldn’t be more excited to finally start working on your project. Unfortunately, you didn’t know where to start. You were so focused on the baking aspect that you failed to come up with where you’d want your bakery located, how big you wanted it to be and who you needed to hire in order to help you set up your space. Hell, you still had yet to find other bakers and cashiers to help you manage the shop and you soon grew discouraged at the thought of how much time and effort you had to put in to starting up your bakery.

It took you a couple of months to put a plan together before you actually got to make your dreams a reality, but you wanted to make sure you had your ideas written down on paper before reaching out to people for their help. One of your culinary professors was kind enough to refer you to one of her friend’s son’s construction company to help you plan out the building of your bakery. After she sent you his contact information, you decided to do some research on the architect before contacting him to make sure he was the right candidate to help build the bakery you’ve always dreamt of.

When you pulled up his website and saw all the great reviews and how people practically raved over what an amazing company he owned and how great the projects would turn out, you found yourself dialing his phone number and inquiring about how much it would cost and how long it would take to build your bakery. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was by the many photos that showed up under his name. He had a long, skinny face with curly brown hair, the prettiest smile and the cutest little dimples. People like that worked in construction? You knew you should’ve listened to your father when he told you to become a mechanical engineer.

You were nervous to say the least about consulting with him. It was obvious that he’s been doing this for years. He’s designed skyscrapers, buildings, condominiums, mansions and town houses. His line of work went beyond that of your tiny little bakery, but it didn’t hurt to see if he’d be willing to design your cute little shop. He was very soft spoken over the phone and offered to meet you at a coffee shop later in the afternoon if you were free. Since you were so adamant on wanting to open your bakery within the next year and a half, you found yourself quickly agreeing in excitement.

As you drove over to the coffee shop you agreed to meet him at, you couldn’t help the smile that rose on your face at the idea of things finally coming together for you. Sure, there was still a lot for you to do and so many people you still had to contact, but this was the most important thing you had to get done. When you walked in to the cafe and spotted him in the corner by the bookshelf, you began to approach him and the smile he sent in your direction made your heart flutter.

“Hey! You must be y/n. Nice to meet you. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?”

You looked at him in curiosity before politely shaking your head in disagreement. “I should be the one offering to buy you something! You’re doing me a favor. Thank you for coming to meet with me by the way. It’s like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.” He giggled slightly and pulled out a notepad. After the two of you put in your drink orders and playfully argued about who was going to pay, you headed back to the table and he started to ask you a few questions about the location and size of the bakery that you had in mind.

Once you gave him all the information, he began to draw out an idea of what he felt you would like and you were excited to see your plans coming out on paper. As you watched him draw out his ideas, you were quick to notice how focused he was and how much detail he put in to his work. It was extremely admirable.

“I’m sorry if this project is nothing compared to all of the amazing work that you’ve done so far but—“ He looked at you with the most adorable pout on his face and you were sure your heart was going to combust at the sight.

“Don’t be silly y/n! I love every single project that I get to work on. Honestly, this is the first time I’m working on building a bakery, so I’m very excited to see how it’ll turn out. With the way you told me about how passionate you are about baking and how you’ve been wanting to open your own bakery for a while now, this is definitely not nothing.”

He sent you a toothy grin and returned back to his sketching. Throughout your time together, the two of you conversed about many different things. You were surprised to hear that he had no plans of getting in to construction and architecture and that he actually had plans of becoming a pilot. However, when he took art in his freshman year, it was his professor that told him to look in to becoming an architect. The way his eyes would light up when he went in to detail about how he’s always loved to draw and do all kinds of sketches made you feel warm inside.

He reminded you of yourself. Just like you, he’s loved drawing, painting and sketching from the time he was young but he never thought he could use his talent in the real world; so he pushed the idea of becoming a professional artist or having a job that had anything to do with drawing in general to the back of his mind. Hearing about how it took him a couple of years to set up his company worried you; you didn’t think it would take that long to open up your bakery but he assured you when he saw the glum look on your face that it was a different situation.

“I had to make sure I was hiring the right people, that they all had insurance, I had to find a place to set up my company—there was a lot I had to do to make sure my employees were covered and then I had to make contracts with the state. I needed more than just other architects. I had to hire construction workers, estimators, carpenters, project engineers, electricians and so many other types of workers. That’s why it took a while. But planning, setting up and building your bakery won’t take too long. I’d say three months tops. I’m actually stoked to see how it’ll turn out and I can’t wait for it to open. I’ll bring this in to work with me tomorrow and we’ll get started on your shop as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you y/n, I had a great time. I’ll stay in contact with you and try to update you on what we’re doing so there’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about okay? You can trust me. I hope to see you again soon.”

Once he left the coffee shop, you took a few minutes to process your entire meeting with him. He was nothing short of a gentleman. He always made eye contact with you whenever you talked to him, he was very attentive, threw in a few jokes in order to make sure you were comfortable and always asked for your opinion to make sure you agreed with everything he was doing. He had called you that following Monday to give you a rough estimate of how much everything would cost and to let you know how long it would take to build.

You found yourself developing a small little crush on the architect in the short amount of time that you’ve known him for, but how could you not? He was extremely patient with you, curious about your likes and dislikes, very passionate about his work, determined, soft spoken yet easy to converse with and he seemed like a very genuine person. Over the course of a few months, he kept his promise of keeping you updated on the progress of your bakery. He also invited you a few times to watch it actually getting built and to your surprise, he had a helmet customized specifically for you.

There were days that he would call you just to see how you were doing and how everything was going with the other responsibilities that came with opening a bakery. You couldn’t help but feel as if there was more to his calls and supportive little text messages and you were sure architects never were this involved with their clients but you didn’t mind. You loved talking to and spending as much time with Mark that you possibly could.

Finally, the day came where his company were finished with building your bakery and to say you were happy with how it came out was an understatement. It was everything you could have wanted and more. The kitchen was huge and Mark had explained to you that it was because he wanted you and your employees to have enough space to move around without having to worry about getting in each other’s way. There was an office, storage room, freezer and bathroom. He even made a closet and an area for your employees to place their belongings. Even the store front was spacious. It was perfect. You never once doubted that Mark would do an amazing job, but seeing the final product made you speechless.

“So, how do you like it?” Absentmindedly, you jumped in to his arms and buried your face in to his neck.

“It’s perfect! I love it so much. Thank you Mark! You’re amazing.” He smiled lightly against your cheek and held you closer to his embrace. When you came to the realization that you were holding him, no matter how much you loved the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, you found yourself pulling away and apologizing in embarrassment.

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I wanted to make sure it turned out the way you wanted it to.” He would never admit it to you, but there were nights where he stayed up till the wee hours of the morning in order to put together teams with some of his best workers to help out with building your bakery and to pull some strings with the owner of the land that you wanted to have your bakery located at.

At first, Mark had a hard time understanding why he was going above and beyond to make sure your bakery turned out the way you’ve dreamt it to. Out of all the many projects he’s worked on so far, your bakery was the one he actually helped work on the most. He went to the construction site almost every single day to make sure it was coming out perfectly. It took him a while to realize it, but when he would hear the excitement in your voice and saw the breathtaking smile rise on your face whenever he would inform you about how your bakery was coming along, he knew he had more than just friendly feelings for you.

There were times where he’d sit in his office and work on other projects, but his mind would always wander off to you. Your bright and positive personality send a warm feeling to Mark’s chest and he couldn’t help but want to act on his feelings for you. When you came to the realization that you would no longer need to stay in contact with Mark anymore, you were upset to say the least but there was nothing you could do about it.

“Did you need help with bringing in the appliances and setting up the plumbing?” The idea of getting to have Mark in your life for just a little longer caused you to scream internally and the word yes was on the tip of your tongue, but the realist in you gave him a sad smile.

“You’ve already done so much for me so far, I don’t want to continue being a burden and I’m sure you have more important things to work on—“ he gave you a knowing look and interrupted you before you could continue to feel bad over the thought of everything he’s already done to support you and your bakery.

“Nonsense y/n, I want to help you. Plus, I have some connections that could really help with making this the best bakery ever.”

You giggled softly. “No matter how beautiful you end up making this place, I doubt it’ll be that popular. I’m sure there are many more bakeries out there that are way more popular with better products. I’m not all that special.”

The gentle squeeze on your wrist pulled you out of your self pity and before you knew it, you were being pulled against his chest. “Stop that. Stop thinking that you’re anything less than all that you are. You are extremely special y/n. I’ve never seen someone so passionate and so in love with their job as much as you clearly are. This bakery is everything you’ve wanted and more and no matter what you think, it’s going to be the best bakery in town. I don’t care if I have to dress up as a croissant and pass out fliers to people in order to get business booming, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this bakery becomes successful.”

You were sure that if Mark were to look at you, you’d be as red as a tomato. His words sent fire to your bones. When you felt him wrap his arms around your waist, you looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done to me. Thank you so much Mark.”

With the way you were looking up at him with so much gratitude in your eyes, Mark wanted to close the space between your lips and release all the feelings he had developed for you through a kiss. Before he could do anything he’d regret, he placed his chin on the top of your head to prevent him from connecting his lips with yours. God knows that if Mark were to stare at your pretty pink lips any longer, he wouldn’t be able to control himself and his desire to feel your lips against his.

“You don’t owe me anything. All I want for you to do is to have faith in yourself. Be more confident. Don’t you ever doubt yourself or say anything negative about yourself anymore okay? Make me proud y/n.”

Once you got everything settled with the bank, insurance company, plumbing company and kitchen appliance company, you began to work on furnishing your bakery. Mark would head straight to your bakery once he finished work in order to help you set things up against your pleas that he’d go home and rest. You didn’t want to be a burden on him and you were sure he was probably exhausted from work; but you weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t enjoy his presence.

Knowing that he wanted to continue to help you out although his part of the project was already over with made your heart happy. You wanted to believe it was because just like you, he enjoyed spending time with and being around you. However, you would mentally scold yourself for thinking like that and making up scenarios in your head of the two of you starting up a relationship together. In the moments that he came and helped you move your furniture, went with you shopping for necessities, ingredients, decorations, uniforms and everything else that you were in need of, your feelings for him only grew stronger.

When you were back at the bakery, he would play some music on his phone and the two of you would dance and sing along as you worked on getting everything set up and making sure all areas of your bakery were ready for opening. There were times that you caught him looking at you and other times that he would “accidentally” touch your waist and lower back if he tried to pass behind you. No matter how long you’d spend with him, you’d always miss him whenever he would leave. Sometimes, you would order food for the both of you as an excuse to extend your time together. Mark was someone who you loved being around.

The constant support he gave you along with the many compliments about your talent and sometimes even your looks never failed to make your heart flutter. You could only wish there was a reason he would stay in your life once this was all over. Finally the opening a day came and you were overwhelmed with so many emotions. Sure, you were excited. Your dream was finally coming true. But the doubts and worries of nobody showing up wouldn’t leave your mind at all for the few days leading up to today. Unfortunately, Mark had let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to make it because he had a few meetings he had to attend to and the news made you even more upset than you already were. Mark had practically set this entire place up. He was the reason everything came together just the way you wanted it to so it was only natural for you to want him in attendance. Plus, knowing he was there would help you relax and the thought of him would block out any other negative thoughts that were currently bringing you down. However, his cute little supportive text messages did make you calm down a bit but your heart rate fluttered at his sweet words.

“Hey boss, you’re gonna want to take a look at this.” One of your pastry chefs motioned for you to follow her outside and when you saw just how many people were waiting outside for you to open made tears brim at your eyes. Were they all really there for your opening? But how did they all hear about it? You paid to put an ad in a few newspapers but that was pretty much it. You didn’t think it would bring in at least two hundred people right outside your storefront but you were extremely over the moon.

“Hi guys! Thank you so much for coming today. It genuinely means everything to me. I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a little girl and I’m so excited to have you all try my pastries. The cake fairy is finally open for business!”

Hearing the crowd cheer as you cut open the rope and allowed people to come in made your heart race. It took you a while to finally take everything in and to come to the realization that all these people were here for your desserts. For recipes that you came up with years ago in school when you were actually supposed to be studying for finals. Nobody other than your family and friends have tried your treats, so this was the first time anyone else was going to be tasting it and your heart felt like it was going to bust out of your chest. When you saw the first few customers take bites out of your pastries and saw the smiles on their faces while they murdered just how good it was, you released a breath of relief.

The day went by extremely quick but that’s because you had so much to do. You had to help take orders and serve people while running to the back and helping out with baking. You were afraid of running out of things to sell but you and your team tried your best to make sure that everybody got what they wanted. Some customers asked to talk to you personally and wouldn’t stop raving over your desserts and congratulating you on your success. It was such a heartwarming feeling seeing all your hard work and passion come together.

After such a successful work day, you thanked all of your employees for their hard work and sent them home with some pastries while you stayed back to clean everything and to take a few minutes to yourself. As you began to wipe down the countertops, you heard a soft knock at the door and at first, you were alarmed seeing as how it was nearing 10 p.m. but when you saw your favorite smile peeking at you through the glass, you immediately dropped what you were doing and ran to the door.

“Hi there my favorite little puff pastry! How was it? I heard the line went on for hours. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be here to see it.” He handed you a bouquet of sunflowers and a teddy bear dressed up as a chef. The reason why Mark wasn’t there for your opening was because he had a few tricks up his sleeve. You weren’t able to see the billboards he set up throughout your city, nor did you have the time to watch tv and see your ad being played every other commercial. He meant it when he said he was going to do whatever he could to help you succeed and it was mainly because he loved seeing that contagious smile of yours when things went your way.

“It’s fine Mark. I understand, but thank you for being here right now and thank you for these gifts. I’m more at ease now that you’re here. Today was perfect. There were so many people and everyone seemed to really enjoy my desserts. I’m still having a hard time processing that all those people were here for my treats. It’s such an indescribable feeling and I couldn’t have done any of this without you so thank you.” With the way he was looking at you as if you were the one who set all the stars up in the sky, you felt as if you would melt in to a puddle right there.

“Don’t mention it. Honestly, you could sell your cakes in a grungy and disgusting bathroom and people will still come. I’m sure they taste just as amazing as they look.” You asked him to follow you in to the kitchen while you brought out the cake you prepared for him the night before as a small thank you for everything that he’s done for you. It wasn’t anything too over the top; just a two tiered chocolate cake with a peanut butter cream cheese filling and the words thank you next to some sketches and a construction hat. The smile that rose on his face made your cheeks warm and you couldn’t help but mirror it back to him.

“Wow y/n, this cake looks amazing. You’re really talented. I can’t believe I’m the first one to receive a cake made by the renowned baker y/n y/l/n. Don’t forget me when you become famous okay?” You playfully rolled your eyes as you brought out a couple other desserts and placed it on a plate for him.

“These were the best sellers of today. Tell me what you think.” He began to take a bite out of everything and for some reason, you found yourself getting nervous at what he would think. Mark’s opinion meant the most to you. You were afraid that he wouldn’t think all too highly of your creations but when you saw him practically vacuum your strawberry shortcake, you had to stifle back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I must look so messy but this is so good. Damn y/n, I’m gonna need about two dozen of these to go. I’m going to eat one at every meal for the rest of this week. I’m not even kidding this is delicious—“ you couldn’t help but bring your thumb up to the corner of his lip in order to wipe away some left over strawberry cream. He looked adorable and hearing him say such nice things about your strawberry shortcake made you grin like an idiot. You weren’t able to notice the way he looked at you while gliding your finger against his mouth, so you had no idea that Mark was practically near his breaking point.

Before you could do or say anything else, his lips were on yours. It was a breathtaking feeling, literally. His lips were soft against yours and he brought both his hands up to your cheeks, cupping it all but gently while continuing to kiss you like his life depended on it. The way he was kissing you with so much passion and fervor made your head spin. He brought his hands down to your waist and hoisted you up on to the counter top but his lips never once left yours. You tried your best to keep up with his quick pace but you were still in shock that this was all happening.

Mark felt as if his body was in flames while you felt like you were consumed by the ocean. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes, not being able to get enough of one another and when you felt Mark moan in to the kiss, you knew things were getting hot and heavy. To Mark’s dismay, you pulled away in order to catch your breath but placed your forehead against his. He wrapped his arms around your hips as he left gentle kisses all around your face.

“Wow. That was—you are—wow. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for quite some time now. I hope you know that there’s going to be a lot more from where that came from.” You beamed up at him and playfully booped his nose.

“The feeling is mutual, trust me. I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met at the coffee shop. I haven’t been the same since you’ve came in to my life but I like it like that. You’ve brought in so much positivity in to my life and I’d like to think I’m more outgoing and confident because you make me want to be. I want to be someone you are proud of. Someone who has a good head on her shoulders. Someone whose good enough for you, Mr.Oh so successful and extremely dreamy architect that all kinds of people; business men, CEOs, entrepreneurs and other construction companies go crazy over. I can’t blame them though, I’m crazy for you too.” He picked up some frosting from one of the cupcakes you gave him and smeared it on your cheek earning himself an adorable whine.

“All these desserts yet you’re the sweetest thing here—hey! Come back here y/n! You’re lucky I love you—oh.” Hearing those three words fall from his mouth sent you in to a frenzy and the two of you completely ignored the fact that Mark now had guava jelly on his dress shirt.

“You what?” He brought his hand up to the back of his neck and scratched it out of embarrassment.

“I said I love you. I’m sorry, was that too fast? I totally understand if you don’t feel the same just yet and it might be kind of early for me to say this—“ he was quick to smile in to the kiss once your lips connected with his as your attempt to get him to shut up.

“I love you too. What do you say we get cleaned up here and head back to my place? You can be my taste tester for some new recipes I’ve been planning.”

He began to run his hands along your sides painstakingly slowly and it was obvious that he was trying to rile you up but you weren’t letting him mess with you that easily. “I have an even better idea. I can make us some dinner and then I can eat you for dessert.” He sucked on the juncture of your neck but frowned once he felt you pull away. “Babe! Come on, I bet you taste just as good as you look too!”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan fluff #mark tuan imagines #got7 fluff #got7 preferences #got7 drabbles

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all-things-skam · 4 years

Text

Jens’ season: chapter nine

Saturday, February 29th

Feeling the bed shift next to him, a smile broke out on Jens' face as he remembered last night's events. His plans had completely shifted and he couldn't be more happy - sorry, Robbe.

His heart began to swell, filled with endless happiness. He had thought Lucas was asleep when he confessed his feelings to him. That's why Jens allowed himself to say those three words. Given the Dutch boy's steady and slow breathing, he should've been asleep - but he wasn't -, which turned out to be a good thing. If he had been, Lucas wouldn't have reciprocated the words.

Jens felt his smile deepen. Lucas loved him back. Life couldn't be better.

At least, at 8am on a Saturday.

Lucas woke up not long after Jens, both still sleepy but also needy. He nuzzled his face into Jens' neck and along his shoulder, fighting sleep. That boy was really cuddly in the morning. Not that Jens minded.

Jens wished all his mornings would be like this. Warm, lazy and filled with kisses from the prettiest boy. It was as close to a perfect morning as it could get.

Lucas bit Jens' bottom lip and let it go with a 'pop'. ''Do we have any plans for today? Or are we staying in bed all day? Not that I'd mind.''

''We?''

The brunet hummed, blue irises looking up at Jens. ''I told you. It's my mom's weekend. I don't need to go home. I can stay here instead.''

A content smile formed on Jens' lips. ''I'd like that very much.''

Now that Jens had come out to the boys, he could officially introduce Lucas to them, but staying home and keeping Lucas for himself sounded better. Much better.

He leaned down to join their lips together, one of his hands sliding under the blanket and down Lucas' body. His hand was about to slide inside Lucas' boxers when his bedroom door opened and Lotte walked in, forcing their little 'fun' to end before it even started.

''Lucas!'' she squealed, eyes sparkling with joy the second she saw him in her brother's bed. Lotte jumped on the bed with them, clueless about what almost happened. ''I didn't know you were here.''

Lucas forced an awkward smile, cheeks flushed from the situation.

''Does Mama know?''

''Yes.''

Lotte knitted her eyebrows, staring at her brother, trying to figure out if he was lying. ''That's a lie. If she had known, you wouldn't have been startled when I came in.''

Jens groaned. If only she knew why he was startled... ''Lotte, can you go bother someone else? It's 8am, let me go back to sleep.''

''No! Dad left for work so Mama and I are making waffles downstairs.'' She turned to Lucas. ''Are you staying for breakfast, Lucas?''

The brunet cleared his voice. ''I guess I am.''

Grinning, Lotte took Lucas' hand and tugged, trying to drag him out of bed, but the curly haired one stayed under the covers, very aware that he was only wearing underwear. No matter how much he loved Jens' mom and sister, he didn't feel comfortable enough to be walking around like that in front of Jens' family.

''Why don't you go and make sure Mom doesn't burn the pancakes? We'll join you in a minute.''

Sunday, March 1st

Spending the weekend at Jens' made room for a lot of awkward situations.

Yesterday, Lucas almost stumbled into Jens' dad when exiting the bathroom after his shower. Is there any better way to be introduced to someone? Lucas wanted to be swallowed by the ground. Then, he got caught mid-changing by Lotte. Thankfully, his pants were still on.

Their making out session had been cut short this morning when Jens' mom walked in, catching them kissing in Jens' bed. Fenna didn't say anything, both boys being still fully clothed. She just deposited the pile of clean clothes and left, leaving the door wide open instead of just ajar. Message received.

Later in the afternoon, Jens decided to leave the house to get some fresh air - aka freedom.

While he was grateful that his parents agreed to have Lucas spending the weekend over - and sleeping in his bed -, he was tired of his family breathing down his neck or constantly being interrupted by his sister. They couldn't even sleep in or have some morning cuddles without Lotte coming in and jumping on the bed. Jens really needed to learn to lock the door.

It was cloudy and gray outside - a bit cold too -, but Jens wanted some time alone with Lucas. Can you blame him?

Spoon still in his mouth, Lucas hummed, eyes closed. ''This cake.''

''It's good, uh?''

The brunet nodded avidly, cutting another piece of his cake with his spoon. ''You, Belgians know how to make desserts.''

Jens shook his head, smiling. ''You and your sweet tooth...''

As if a cake wasn't sweet enough, Lucas had ordered the sweetest one on the menu: a chocolate mousse cake. Even though Luc had told Jens how much he loved chocolate, he didn't realize until now exactly how big of a sweet tooth he really had.

Jens watched the thick, yet smooth chocolate mousse disappear into the brunet's mouth. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, reminding himself where they were. He tried to keep his mind from wandering to a dangerous place, but it wasn't easy. It seemed, sometimes, like Lucas made every minor actions somewhat suggestive, and he knew exactly the effect it would have on Jens.

''Want a taste?'' Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Turning his attention back to him, Jens nodded. Why not? He wasn't a big fan of desserts, but the chocolate mousse seemed really tasty. He opened his mouth, ready to taste the sweet desert, but Lucas put the spoon in his own mouth, making Jens frown and pout.

''Hey! That was for me.''

Lucas shrugged. ''Sorry, but this cake is just too good to share.''

''Tease''

Smiling smugly, Lucas blew him a kiss over the table before returning to his plate.

Jens pulled up his phone, snapped a picture of Lucas - he was just too cute to not capture this moment - when a notification from the selling app popped up. ''Yes!''

Lucas glanced at his boyfriend, confused.

''Someone is interested in something I'm selling,'' Jens explained.

''What are you selling?''

''Oh, just games I don't play anymore.'' He shrugged. ''They were collecting dust.''

It wasn't a huge sale. Only some game at 7€, but, it was 7€ less to find to pay back the drugs Lucas had flushed.

Lucas frowned, taking a sip of his fancy coffee. ''Why are you selling your video games online? Can't you go to a game store for that? Jayden does it all the time.''

''Yeah, but they only offer discounts on other games. I need money.''

''What for?''

Jens sighed. He didn't want to involve Lucas any more in his problems, but he already knew about the drugs, so why not. ''Remember when you saved my ass and got rid of the drugs in my locker? Well, my dealer texted me and he wants his money. I have some cash from the weed I sold and other stuff, but what has been flushed needs to be paid too. I can't just tell him I almost got caught and had to get rid of them.''

''I can help. It's partly my fault that you have to repay him.''

Jens shook his head. ''No. It's my fault that I'm caught in this shit.''

''And, it's my fault that they're in the sewers somewhere in Antwerp.'' Lucas paused. ''We could always try to retrieve them...''

Jens wrinkled his nose in disgust. The pills had probably all dissolved by now anyway. ''Ew, gross.''

''So, are you taking my offer?'' Jens hesitated and Lucas smiled at him. ''You can pay me back if you want to. In cash or...other,'' he added, winking over the table.

''I'll think about it.''

Monday, March 2nd

''What the fuck, man? Why did you shoot me?''Jens asked through the headphone's mic as his character received a bullet to the chest.

''Sorry, I thought it was Aaron.''

Jens laughed, looking around on his TV screen to find Aaron and shoot him, laughing harder as he did so.

''Hey! Why is everyone trying to kill me?''

''Because it's fun,'' Moyo responded.

paused his video game when he saw Michiel's name on the screen. He bit his lip anxiously before opening the message.

Michiel: Where's my cash, kid? Ghosting me won't work. I need it by Thursday. Or else...

Jens stared at the screen for what felt like a lifetime. Michiel was now threatening him. Jens had to do something quick or he was going to be in real danger. Who knew what Michiel - or his men - were capable of? He couldn't tell Lucas why he had suddenly changed his mind and he felt bad for asking his boyfriend for money - Lucas wasn't his personal banker -, but he needed the money sooner rather than later.

Jens: Is your offer still standing? I don't think I'll sell enough shit by Thursday

Lucas: I told you I'd help, didn't I?

Lucas: When do you need it for?

Jens: Thursday

Lucas: Want me to come with?

Jens: No. I'll be fine

Lucas: Is that supposed to be reassuring?

Jens: I'll be fine, Luc

Lucas: Okay... but I want you to text me when you get there and when you leave just so I know you are safe

Jens: 👍

Wednesday, March 4th

The television was playing loudly when Fenna returned from work, some sort of anime on the big screen. She furrowed her eyebrows at the unfamiliar characters, her heart aching at the explicit content flashing across the screen. How can teenagers watch that?

''Sorry for finishing so late. There was a big car accident and I had to do extra time to help,'' she explained, removing her jacket and setting her bag down. ''Did Lotte eat already?''

''No, I let her starve,'' the teenager answered from the couch.

Fenna gave her son a look. ''Jens...''

He flashed his mother a smile. ''I'm joking. I reheated last night's leftovers.''

''Good. Where's is she?''

''Upstairs playing in her room. Want me to tell her to come down?''

Before he could call Lotte down, Fenna shook her head. ''No. That's good, actually. I wanted to talk to you.''

Jens frowned, trying to read his mother's face but failing. She came around to sit on the couch and he turned down the volume of the television.

''You...you were right. About your father. He lied to my face about this job, he lied to all of us.'' Fenna closed her eyes, her husband's lie still fresh.

She had gone to see Mohamed on her lunch break between shifts since the hospital wasn't far from his new office - and he wasn't answering his phone. When Fenna got there, she asked to see him and was told that he didn't work there and never had.

''After a lot of difficult thinking, I made a decision and I wanted you to be the first to know about it. Your father and I will be separating.''

''As in a divorce?''

Fenna nodded slowly. She didn't want to get a divorce - nobody does. Divorce felt like a failure to a lot of people. But, it was the right choice to make. ''I still love your father, but sometimes love isn't enough. Money might not buy happiness, but without money, we can't live in this house.''

''We?'' Jens repeated. ''That means we're going to...move?''

Exhaling a breath, Fenna nodded sadly. ''I didn't want to. I did everything in my power to stay here, but I can't afford this house on my own.''

Jens swallowed thickly, a wave of sadness flowing in. He wasn't one to get attached to things, but loved this house. He spent his whole life here. Every corner and walls held a memory. The staircase where he broke his arm when he fell with his bike when he was five, the dining room table where him and his mom used to sit and work on his spelling homework, his bedroom where he had his first makeout session and the place he lost his virginity.

''What about Dad?''

He didn't want to be insensitive, but where will his father go? Clearly, he won't be following them after the divorce.

''His brother lives in Liège, he'll be staying with him for a moment. Or, so he said.''

Jens nodded. Maybe a change of scenery will be good for him. Maybe it'll help him get back on track.

Thursday, March 5th

His hands were clammy as he crossed the street, seeing Michiel's building in his line of sight. After his parents' divorce announcement, Jens wasn't in the mood to meet with Michiel, but he didn't really have the choice. Michiel had been clear: he wanted his money. He didn't care whatever was happening in Jens' personal life.

All the money was in his left pocket, feeling heavy, and a worried Lucas was in the other, sending him texts every ten seconds.

Jens stood on the doorstep and rang the doorbell, stress growing in his stomach. He bit his lip as he waited, going still when the door opened and the same big guy who was there the first time stood there.

''Long time no see,'' he pointed out.

''Is Michiel here? I have his money.''

The man nodded and let Jens in, the door shutting loudly behind.

''So, it's over? No more drug dealing shit?''

Jens hummed. ''It's over.'' He kissed Lucas in the middle. ''No more drug dealing shit.''

Lucas rolled his eyes at the small mockery. ''Good.'' He sighed, relieved.

After leaving Michiel's, Jens came over to Lucas' to reassure him and take advantage of Mr. Van Der Heijden being at work. They hadn't had a lot of alone time during the weekend despite Lucas sleeping over, so it was nice to be just the two of them again.

Lucas led them to the couch and cuddled against Jens, being the cuddle-bear he will never admit to be. Some things were just for Jens and him to know.

''I could fall asleep right here and now,'' Lucas pointed, closing his eyes as Jens played with his curls, twirling the soft ringlets between his fingers.

''Am I that much of a bore? Because I can go home if-''

Clutching a fistful of Jens' hoodie, Lucas made a protest noise. ''Don't you dare.''

Jens laughed and kissed his forehead, feeling Lucas pulling him in closer. He was keenly aware of Lucas' wants and needs and cuddling was Lucas' unspoken signal of reassurance that he would always be there for him.

''So, now that you've met my family, when am I going to meet yours?'' Jens asked, mildly teasing, breaking the comfortable silence first.

Lucas grew quiet, staring down at the carpet in front of the couch, the shades of browns and greys suddenly very interesting.

''Do you...not want me to meet your parents or something?'' Jens asked, silently hoping it wasn't that.

The brunet sat up, removing himself from Jens' hold. ''No, no. That not- It's just, I've never introduced someone to my parents...like that.''

''You mean a guy?''

''No girls either, if it reassures you,'' Lucas added with a bit of humor.

''You've told your mom about me, though?''

''Yes, but it's complicated. With my mom, we can't just schedule a date and have dinner all together. She might get anxious or she can- So many things can go wrong.''

''Or it could go well.''

Lucas sighed, moving away from his boyfriend's touch. ''Jens...''

''And, your dad?''

‘’My dad’s a dick. I only moved with him because the judge said I had to. It was that or going to a foster family. My dad might be a dick, but he’s not the worst. There’s kids out there that need fostering more than me, some who are stuck in abusive families or even orphans. I would’ve felt bad for taking someone’s place. Entering the foster system would’ve also meant not seeing my mom anymore and I can’t renounce to that.’’ Lucas paused, swallowing his emotions. ‘’She needs me. I’m all she has left. I can’t do that to her.’’

By the way his voice was strained, Jens could tell that it was still a difficult subject. Lucas was close to his mother. Hearing his story made Jens wonder how bad her mental illness was. If a judge had declared her inapte to take care of him, it must be serious. It was also so sad to hear that her husband had completely pushed her out of his life just because of her mental illness. She was lucky to have a son like Lucas.

As much as he wanted to meet Lucas’ parents, it wasn’t worth putting Lucas - nor his parents - in this state. Causing trouble in his boyfriend’s family wasn’t what Jens wanted.

He shook his head. ‘’Forget what I said, okay? I’ll meet them when you’re ready. No pressure.’’ He flashed Lucas a small smile which got reciprocated.

Lucas nodded, grateful to have someone as understanding as Jens. ‘’I love you.’’

‘’I love you,’’ Jens repeated, pulling the smaller one back into his hold.

Friday, March 6th

‘’Is Lucas coming?’’ Aaron asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Jens nodded, taking a sip of his beer. ‘’He said he’s on his way.’’

An eager smile spread on Aaron’s lips. ‘’So, I’m gonna meet him?’’ he added, unable to contain his excitement.

‘’You’ve met Lucas before...’’

‘’Yeah, but not as your boyfriend. This is a big deal-’’

‘’Aaron…’’

He shrugged. ‘’What? I didn't say it the other day, but I’m happy for you. I liked Jana, but Lucas is much cooler. At least he skates with us instead of sitting and watching.’’

Jens raised an eyebrow. ‘’Cooler than Sander?’’

‘’Don’t push.’’

After Robbe, Aaron was Sander’s biggest fan. He was never shy to voice how much admiration he had for him whether it was his flirting tactics, his confidence, romantic gestures or how good looking he was. It even became a running joke in the gang that if Sander wasn't already taken by Robbe, the curly haired one would tempt his chance.

‘’Your boy is here,’’ Aaron pointed out, nudging Jens as he saw Lucas walking in.

Jens looked up, watching as Lucas squeezed a path between the dancing girls in the living room and some shotgun drinkers. He grimaced at the mess it was making on the floor and scanned the room, trying to find his boyfriend, fastening his pace when he spotted him and Aaron in the kitchen.

Jens greeted him with a kiss, getting some cooing from Aaron. Could he be more annoying? Lucas leaned into Jens as the latter hooked an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close.

‘’So, you’re Jens’ boyfriend?’’

Jens rolled his eyes and groaned. ‘’Let’s go look for Moyo and Robbe.’’

They all sat in the bathroom, passing around weed and booze, like the old days. Moyo had brought some weed and smoke was rapidly filling the bathroom as they all blew their thick, grey puffs into the air.

It was the first time they all hung out together - Lucas and Sander included. Jens and Lucas squeezed in next to Robbe and Sander in the tub, laughing as Aaron vented about his latest romantic gesture that turned into an epic fail. Honestly, when does it not?

''I had the room all set up and everything,’’ he explained. ‘’Candles, flower petals, her favorite scented bath stuff, but then her mom came home and ruined my surprise before we could even get in the water. I tried telling Amber that we can still go in, but she said it was too weird if her mom was in the house.’’

Amber’s bathtub. Lucas shared glances with Jens, memories of their first kiss flowing in.

Sander sighed. ‘’Robbe’s the same, he won’t-’’

Knowing where this was going, Robbe didn’t let Sander finish his sentence, covering his mouth with his hand before he could say any more, refusing to let this turn into another let’s tell Aaron about our sex-life episode.

‘’Why did you stop? It was getting interesting,’’ Aaron complained.

‘’Quit encouraging Sander into telling you stuff. It’s private.’’

‘’And weird,’’ Jens added, backing his best friend.

‘’You’re the one who used to brag about sex-’’

Jens rolled his eyes. ‘’I don't brag…’’

He did tell everyone about losing his virginity and the sex he had with Jana - what else does fifteen years old do? And, he ranted about that toothpaste tip...a lot, but he wasn’t on Aaron’s level of bragging.

‘’Well, if you really want to know, there’s this amazing thing Jens does with his-’’ Lucas stopped himself, a smug grin on his lips. ‘’Did you really think I was going to tell you?’’

‘’I like him,’’ Moyo commented, giving Lucas a high five.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Jens. It was nice to see that Lucas was integrating well into their group.

“So, since we have two new guys in the group, maybe we should get to know you both better?” Aaron suggested, waiting for his turn to take a puff.

“Dude, why do you always have to be in everyone's business?” Moyo asked.

''Don’t you know Sander enough already? You've pestered him with questions ever since Robbe said they were dating,’’ Jens said, making Robbe laugh.

Lucas felt his phone buzz and reached into his pocket to see who it was. Noting the number, he silenced the call and put his phone back in his pocket, returning his attention to the boys.

Aaron shrugged. “I’m just trying to get to know my best friends' boyfriends. If they are important to them, I want to get to know them better and let them know we care enough to get to know them.”

Sander snorted. “How profound and thoughtful of you, Aaron. I feel much more appreciated.”

Robbe laughed as Jens grabbed the joint from Moyo and took a hit. He had hesitated at first, remembering recent events, but figured that weed was a better coping method than Xanax. And, he wasn’t going to let himself get so high. Just a couple puffs to have a nice buzz.

He was about to hand it to Lucas when his phone went off - again. Sighing, Lucas pulled it out of his jacket and frowned.

‘’Gotta take this. It’s the third time he’s called, it must be important. I’ll be right back.’’

Jens nodded and watched as Lucas rose to his feet, leaving Jens’ side and headed outside to answer the phone call in a more quiet place.

The second the door closed, Sander whistled. ‘’I didn’t believe Robbe when he told me you two got together. Does he still steal your fries?’’

Rolling his eyes, Jens shook his head.

Minutes later, the door opened and Lucas’ face was worried and distraught, his previous lightness and drunken happiness completely gone.

Jens furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’Luc?’’ He sat up, recognizing a frantic and panicked behavior.

‘’I-I gotta go,’’ he simply said, ignoring Jens’ question and grabbing his jacket on the edge of the tub before leaving again, not saying ‘bye’ to anyone.

The boys watched confusedly and gave Jens a look, but the latter wasn’t paying attention to them, his eyes focused solely on Lucas. Jens stood, handing the joint back to Robbe, and went after his boyfriend, wondering what he had been told on the phone that made him want to leave the party so fast.

He didn't catch up to him until they were outside, the amount of people inside the house made it difficult to get a hold of Lucas. The evening wind hit his face the second he stepped out, sending a shiver down Jens’ back. He grabbed Lucas’ arm when he was close enough to reach and made him stop.

‘’Slow down, Luc. Why are you leaving?'' he asked, releasing his arm.

Lucas turned around, eyes filled with tears but he fought them. ''My dad. He said-'' He interrupted himself, shaking his head, voice trembling and faulty as he spoke.

Jens frowned, going immediately into comforting mode. Something was up, but the Dutch boy was talking so fast and the panic in his voice made it more difficult for Jens to understand what he was saying.

He lifted Lucas' chin, catching sight of his glassy blue eyes. ''Hey...tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you or understand if you don’t tell me.’’

‘’My mom. It’s- She’s going to be admitted to a clinic, I… I have to go.’’

#van der stoffels #jens's season #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #wtfock #vds #skam nl #jens x lucas #lucas x jens

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matkomakto · 4 years

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How was it to be a volunteer in Italy?

In this post I want to describe my experience as an AIESEC volunteer in Bologna (I posted a lot during this period on my Instagram). My project was related to SDG4, or in other words Quality Education. The name of my NGO is EduChange. What I did in practice was teaching English and giving presentations about Poland and Polish culture to Italian children at the age of 9-10 (and once 14, but that’s a different story). I will put a line now, so that if you’re not interested you won’t have to scroll like crazy.

ARRIVAL

I don’t want to describe the whole procedure of applying, it’s very easy and nothing really happens. Before you leave you have two meetings - one in your local AIESEC and the other via Internet with the one you’re going to. My journey starts on January, 17th. In the morning I entered a bus to Kraków, from where I departed at 4pm to Venice, and then to Bologna. Venice welcomed me with rain (I got a little cold because of that, but Gripex saved my life once again) and so did Bologna. The whole journey took 26 hours (yes, I went by bus and you can’t judge me). Somewhere on my way my first host-mum, Mary, messaged me wishing me a good journey and asking if I was safe (and in this sentence you have everything about this woman - always kind and caring <3). A few hours later, my other host-mum, Chiara, who was supposed to take me from the station messaged me too. At the station I was welcomed by Chiara and Matilde, one of my new sisters (in general, now I have 3 sisters and 1 brother). In the car I met Davide, dad, and Carlotta, my other sister (or daughter, as some people would say). After a short conversation, I realised we were in the house of Mary, where I was about to spend next 3 weeks of my life. I was tired af, but it’s understandable, I think. I messaged my buddy, Marie Claire (oh, haven’t told you about her — a buddy is a person from bolognese AIESEC, who takes care of you, a kind of nanny I’d say) and my manager, Sofia. And then I had dinner and went to sleep. I was sleeping from 14.00 till 11.00 on Sunday. I had no idea what would happen next.

FERRARA

I woke up when nobody was at home. It was a bit creepy tbh. On the table I found a note “We’ll be home at 12, eat anything you want” (I didn’t, my stomach was still acting as if I were in the bus). When the whole family, it means — Mary, Andrea, Athina and Achille, came back, they told me “We’re going to Ferrara”. I thought “What is Ferrara?”. It’s a beautiful town near Bologna, where we spent an amazing afternoon. I didn’t know anything about this town, and even if Mary and Andrea tried their best as guides, I spent a whole evening using Google Maps to identify objects I had seen. Among them were the Cathedral, Palazzo Muncipale, Castello Estense, Palazzo dei Diamanti and Via delle Volte. I ate a delicious cake, which name I don’t remember, filled with Nutella. Achille kept complaining “Maddalena’s cake is the best!” (they all ok, almost all called me Maddalena, which is Italian version of Magdalena). In the evening we played all three in the living room and I was texted by Serena, an English teacher from one schools I was going to teach in, also one of my best bolognese friends. With her message I became both excited and anxious about the next day.

FIRST DAY(S)

All the anxiety disappeared when I entered the first school. The children were so lovely and cheerful that I fell in love with them (in a good meaning ofc) instantly. On the first lesson I was just sitting and doing nothing. Then, Serena came, and I was helping her to answer children’s questions during a final test. Believe me, there were hundreds of them. I came home tired, but happy. And finally I became hungry and ate everything I was offered (I always have a problem with eating far from home). The next day meant another school. It was less pleasant as a building, as Mary described it - it looked more like a hospital. Nevertheless, both the teachers and the students again were pure love. In the canteen I sat with 5 boys, who were supposed to make an interview with me. I felt as if I had been watching Familiada live. Then, one of the teachers came to our table hugging one boy saying “Ask him as often as you can. He’s my son”. Lovely, isn’t it? XD In the next class two girls came to me, giving me a drawing (I have it still in my diary). When I asked in Italian if it was for me, I heard a loud, full of shock “LEI CAPISCEEEEEEEEE”. One of the funniest things during these first days is that nobody knew I spoke Italian, and seeing their faces as they discovered it was a very entertaining activity. Wednesday was my day out, I’ll describe it later. On Thursday and on Friday I went to the third school. I ended up in Athina’s class and believe me, it’s really hard to be in one class with your sibling. Fun fact, both English teachers in that school are Rosannas, which confused me a bit these days.

DISCOVERING BOLOGNA

Finally, on my free Wednesday I got an opportunity to go to the centre. I remember my heartbeat when the bus no.13 entered the centre, it was fulfilling of a dream I made as a 13-year-old girl. I walked through Via d’Azeglio and found myself in Piazza Maggiore. Do you remember that scene from Home Alone, where Kevin realises he’s home alone and walks along screaming as crazy? It was me at the moment (but I screamed internally, don’t be scared). I entered Basilica (which I loved and I came back there several times, even twice on the same day). When I went out, I met Marie Claire. She was my guide that day, we had a great time as she showed me Bologna and its 6 secrets (google it). Later I was supposed to go on an AIESEC meeting (there were 2 meetings and Global Village). I continued my trip around city centre from Saturday till Monday, even if the weather wasn’t as great as on Wednesday. Also, on Saturday we spent a few hours “occupando Italia in un Irish pub” with other volunteers. On that day I discovered KIKO Milano, which is now my #1 makeup brand, I’m addicted to it, sorry if I’m a disappointment.

WEEK #2

I was about to write “Nothing interesting really happened”. But damn, I survived a power shortcut in one of the schools, I ate a true Italian pizza and gelato for the first time, I prepared 120 minutes of lesson in 5 minutes because the teacher was absent, I got engaged into “International Mother Tongue Day” organised by one of my schools, I bought a pair of beautiful shoes, I started to enjoy my new social life (volunteers, ily’all and miss y’all <3) and I managed to organise my first trip completely on my own. If that’s nothing then I don’t know what it is. Oh yes, my famous trips, or as I heard from some people “you have too much money”. Let’s remember the first one.

ROME

No matter how hard I try to overcome it, the very first thing I remember about Rome is the pain in my feet. If you’re ever in Rome, please children, don’t go there in brand-new shoes and try not to walk 21,5 km in a single day. As a true Polish, I will start with complaining. I waited 1,5h for a bus and it didn’t have a machine to buy tickets, as they have in Bologna (Bologna-Rome 1:0). On Saturday, despite not the best weather, I made a beautiful trip from Basilica Papale di Santa Maria Maggiore, through Colloseum, Forum Romanum, Altare della Patria, Palazzo Colonna, Fontanna di Trevi, Piazza Navona, Castel Sant’Angelo to the Vatican City and its museum (I have an illegal photo from Sistine Chapel, but shh). My friends volunteers, who also were in Rome, wanted me to go with them to Trastevere, but believe me, I was dying. The next day I did the check out before 8am and I enjoyed empty Rome on Sunday morning, it was amazing. I visited Trinità dei Monti. It was almost empty, @turbinis told me I was very lucky, so I will make you see how my luck looks like:

INDEED.IT.WAS.EMPTY.AND.ONE.HOUR.LATER.I.CAME.BACK.THERE.AND.IT.WAS.FULL.OF.PEOPLE.

WEEK #3

In one class there was a Polish boy. Whenever I saw him, he was yelling “CZEEEŚĆ” and whenever I told something about Poland all the children looked at him in the way “Do you confirm what she’s saying?” This week also brought me two great memories with my bro, Achille. He was sick and out of school and this week he was supposed to be back. He was a bit depressed and thought he would have to study all night. Oh, I forgot about the deep existential question he asked me two weeks before: “Have you ever loved someone on this Earth?”. Deep, you must admit. Another time, he was watching cartoons. When his cartoon ended, they started a cartoon for younger kids. He got offended, switched off the tv and took off the battery from the remote control, because “he won’t watch things for babies”. I remember that one day I became extremely hungry and the next day I went to Café Zamboni (coming back from Pinacoteca, which was amazing btw) and ate so much, that I could barely walk XD. I started realising that I want to go to Erasmus here. It was also a week of Sanremo, I remember with laugh how Athina tried to show her dad the performance of Achille Lauro and poor babbo was running away from her and her phone (I was team Gabbani, although now, when I’m writing this, I hear a loud “FAAAAAI RUMOOORE QUIIIII”). On Friday I got compliments from Rosanna and Rosanna for being a good teacher. They really liked how I had substituted Rosanna#1 the week before. Having my wings grown, I started my next trip, using Frecciarossa for the first time.

NAPLES

Although you may not believe it, it was the first time I had seen the sea. Moreover, I saw it for the first time in the same place as did Elena Greco in “L’amica geniale”, but I realised it a few weeks later. Getting out of the hostel, I went down Via Toledo, Galleria Umberto I, Castel Nuovo to Piazza del Plebiscito. I swear, I will fight anyone who says that Naples is dirty/ugly/both. Also, everyone was telling me about thieves, but somehow I didn’t get stolen. After I finished a gelato on Piazza, I went to the sea. It was one of the most beautiful feelings I’ve ever experienced. I thought “Screw all the sightseeing, you will do it tomorrow. Enjoy the sea today”, and so I did. I followed Lungomare all the time, passing along Castel dell’Ovo to the Mappatella beach. As it was the first time I saw the sea, the beach was also a whole new experience. Kids, never ever go to the beach in winter shoes, did you know? Because I didn’t. Probably I would watch a sunset there, but I got a bit scared with all those theft-stories and I was in the hostel before it got dark (I watched the sunset on Piazza del Plebiscito though). On Sunday I went from Santa Maria del Carmine, via Via San Biagio dei Librai and Via dei Tribunali to the Cathedral, Piazza Nazionale and train station. I arrived in Bologna at 11pm tired, but happy.

WEEK #4

In the middle of my stay, I moved to my second host family. At the beginning it was a bit weird (just like every time you change your life 180°). Everything changed the next evening, when I stayed home alone with my sisters and their nanny. We had a great time playing games and joking. Although I’m still ashamed that I lose in Mario, which was the game of MY childhood :C. That week another AIESEC meeting took place. Even two meetings, because on February, 14th there was a Global Village. It was a great event, even if I couldn’t enjoy it till the end, because the next day I had to wake up early. For the train. Btw, it was a Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? I received some sweet cards from my students and it made my heart melt. After school we met with Marie Claire, who showed me something that now I miss a lot - tigelle.

FLORENCE

I woke up with a strong “oh shit” feeling. But as I realised I’m going to Florence, I got up and got ready in 20 minutes. Everyone was still sleeping, though I woke up Chiara when I tried to open the door. It was a cursed day for trains, I think. The train to Florence had too few wagons (I was assigned #9, but there were only 7, though they let me in) and the train from Florence was 40min delayed (I got into precisely on time I should get off in Bologna). I spent a wonderful day, mostly contemplating Il Duomo. Seriously, I took 42 photos of it, which makes almost a half of all photos taken in Florence. I can’t resist to put here at least one:

When I arrived to Ponte Vecchio, I saw a beautiful exhibition of jewelry. Really, it was so beautiful, that I couldn’t stop watching it. I even took a photo of it. As I started to continue my trip I said to myself “Magdalena, you will regret it till the end of your life!” So I came back and bought one bracelet. For 130€. Do I regret it? No. Would I regret if I hadn’t bought it? Yes. I will even show it to you.

One of the most important highlights is the visit to Capelle Medicee - if you ever go to Florence, go there, it costs only 2€ if you’re below 25 (or 26 idk). I enjoyed an amazing view from Giardini Boboli, saw another Neptun Fountain (like, Italians, aren’t you done with them yet???) and took a rest in front of Santa Croce. As a nice finish, I watched the sunset by the Cathedral.

WEEK #5

That Sunday (yes, now I start with Sunday, why not) Chiara woke me up early in the morning and we went to Matilde’s training (she plays rugby and btw Athina plays tennis and Carlotta does skating, I’m really proud of them). After the match (Matilde’s team won ofc) we went to Chiara’s parents. Oh my, I had never thought that people who had never seen me before would treat me as if I were their granddaughter, because that’s what I felt. I don’t remember if I ever had such a dinner, in such an atmosphere. I miss nonna’s tortellini, no one will ever prepare me better ones. In the evening, we played Dixit (a bit of Katowice flashback), the best game ever and don’t even try to say something different. Monday and Tuesday were the days of saying goodbye, since next week these days were supposed to be free. On Wednesday I spent a nice afternoon/evening with Heloísa, my Brasilian friend. We both didn’t know then that we will miss going out so much. On Thursday and on Friday I was a bit sick, I don’t know whether it was just a cold, a beginning of flu or covid-19, which everyone believes me to have had. Nevermind, on Saturday I was completely well.

SAN LUCA

San Luca is a sanctuary located on a hill near Bologna. You can go there on foot, through 666 “portici”. So did I with my host-mom Chiara and Carlotta. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I remember Carlotta running fast up the stairs and being tired when we went down. My sister has a big, pure heart. She gave her chocolate to a homeless man. Also, on that day she became my daughter. At least for the woman in the souvenir shop. (If you ask about Matilde, she was on a soccer game with her dad)

WEEK #6 HOW IT ALL COLLAPSED

Here, I should describe my last week in Italy. But I won’t.

It all started on Sunday morning. I had bought train tickets to Venice and Rimini a few days before. Chiara said “Do you know, there are more and more cases of coronavirus in Venice, in the evening there will be an official communicate. Consider not going there tomorrow”. All I said was “Okay.”. But really, I had no fear of this virus, I even thought I would take advantage of it, because panic means it will be less crowded, no? In the afternoon I went to the centre. In Piazza Maggiore, Via dell’Indipendenza and near the Two Towers people were celebrating the end of the carnival. As I don’t like crowded spaces, I went for a walk near Via San Vitale and Strada Maggiore. As the sun started to set, I decided to go back home. I received a message from AIESEC members that all schools in Emilia Romagna are closed. “A whole free week, cool” I thought. But as the new messages appeared I realised, that there would be no Venice tomorrow. They wrote “Please, don’t travel”. But then it was not my problem. I wanted to get into a bus, but somehow all the bus stops were empty. I had to go back on foot. Have I mentioned that I lived about 5 km from the centre? So, it was a long walk. As I walked, I tried to think what I would do for a whole week as probably the girls will go to grandparents’ and Chiara and Davide have their works. With Chiara we made a decision, I have to go back to Poland. We contacted a few members, about an hour later I had new bus tickets on my phone. We went to a supermarket, it was as if a war was coming. 5 minutes before closing the shop was full of people. And empty on shelves a few minutes later. At 10pm we drove to grandparents to leave the girls there. It was one of the hardest farewells in my life. You can ask why, they are not even your family. Maybe because I remember Carlotta’s words, when they both occupied the whole sofa and I asked “Oh, there’s no longer place for me, is there?” she answered “There will always be a place for you here”. Maybe because I remember Matilde’s head on my shoulder when we were on the way. Maybe because I remember how grandma treated me as her real granddaughter giving me some food and her confitures to Poland. Maybe because all these people showed me more familiar love and affection in these 5 weeks than I received from my real family. Maybe because they still text me asking how I’m doing. Maybe.

I stayed awake till 3am, making my suitcase and handbags. On Monday I went to school, which was closed, to make a closing meeting and to say goodbye to my first host-family. I went for a last coffee and pizza to my favourite restaurant nearby and came back home. I watched tv all the afternoon and had a farewell-pizza as a supper (2 pizzas in a day, very healthy, Magdalena). On Tuesday at 6am I was in a bus heading to Prague and then to Kraków. Instead of watching the sea in Rimini, I was watching some fields somewhere between Kraków and my town.

To make a happy end, it was the time of my life, I’d write something better here but it’s almost 1:30am when I write this, so sorry :C

#it's 1.30 i don't care about tags

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my-fanfic-soul · 4 years

Text

No Need to Regret: Chapter 27

From the Beginning

Being in London with Niall still felt like a dream. That first night had started the process of my emotional tank refilling. I hadn’t realized just how empty it had become. I was so drained but everything about being here was helping me recover.

We had all walked down to a local fish and chip shop for dinner, Olivia’s hand laced through mine and Bethany chattering about what she knew about British history through what she had learned in school. Niall had looked so at ease, his hand occasionally reaching up to brush against my lower back. Every time we went to cross a street, his hand went up almost protectively, and it wasn’t just for me. He wouldn’t let the kids go until he was certain the cars were going to stop or pass us by.

At the shop, he had belly laughed when Olivia had made the realization that chips were french fries, not potato chips and he had bantered playfully with Ethan over where the appropriate place to put ketchup on fries was. He was good natured in his loss when the shop owner took Ethan’s side, even as Ethan and Olivia teased him mercilessly.

On the way back to his flat, though, was when my heart had really started to feel the effect of what this trip would do for me. The sun had gone down and the temperatures had dropped. My siblings weren’t used to it being cold in March and Beth was wearing a thin jacket. When she shivered, Niall didn’t even seem to think about it before he was slipping out of his own coat and handing it over to my little sister. We were still fifteen minutes from his house and he didn’t complain once about being cold. He didn’t make a comment about her needing to remember to bring a better one next time.

How did I manage to find someone like him?

We have fallen into a comfortable schedule for while we’re here. Niall wakes up and goes down to the gym while I shower and get dressed. By the time he gets back, I’ve woken up the kids and started the process of getting everyone fed and getting ready for the day. While he has work commitments in the morning, my siblings and I head out to see some of the more touristy parts of London.

The afternoons are spent with Niall. On Saturday he had taken us to a museum, Sunday we relaxed in a park while he passed a soccer ball back and forth with Ethan and Olivia, Monday we had all gone to see a movie together, and Tuesday we took a trip to Windsor. In the evenings we would make dinner in his kitchen and he would do things like play video games with Ethan or teach all of us how to play poker, minus the money part of it. It was easy to focus on the good moments and look past the moments where Ethan whined because we were going somewhere he didn’t care about, Olivia whined about her feet hurting, or Bethany whined because the other two weren’t getting in trouble for whining.

There were so many more good moments than bad.

It was easy for my mind to wander, to imagine this as life all the time. The practical part of me knew it wasn’t possible, the kids were normally with dad and Niall is gone so often-- this is more of a tease than anything else. But the bittersweet feeling of knowing that there was a potential out there in the world for my younger siblings to know a good life, a life full of love and attention, was a near constant presence.

Our schedule on Wednesday was completely thrown off from the moment I woke up, though. Instead of waking up to Niall slipping out the door of his bedroom in his workout clothes, I woke up to fingers tracing down my neck and a gorgeous, blue eyed Irishman staring at me lovingly.

“Happy birthday, Kendra,” he whispered softly before peppering my cheeks, forehead, and finally lips in soft kisses.

I closed my eyes again and stretched, groggy and surprised by the greeting but pleased. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice deep with sleep as I caught his lips with mine. He grinned, his hand sliding from my neck, down my shoulder and my side to rest at my hip. He squeezed gently and swallowed the soft moan that escaped my lips. As wonderful as it was having my family here getting to truly know Niall, I was trying to calculate how long we had before they woke up if we stayed quiet.

“None of that,” he whispered. “The kids are already awake and making breakfast.”

Every trace of tiredness evaporated immediately as I opened my eyes to give him an exasperated look and started to sit up, pushing the blankets off of me as I went. “You left them alone in the kitchen? Bethany burns cereal!”

A swift kiss put a halt to my attempts to get up. “Don’t worry so much, they’re fine. I’m doing the hard part; they’re just washing fruit and getting all the ingredients together. They love you, they wanted to do something special for you.”

“As much as I’m enjoying the kissing--” another one was planted on my lips for the compliment, “Don’t you think you should get back in there before one of them finds their ambition and burns this entire flat to a crisp?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were awake and let you know that you need to go ahead and shower. I’ve got a busy day planned for you, birthday girl.”

I sat up at that. “Don’t you have work this morning?”

His mischievous grin made my insides melt. “I rearranged some things.”

My brain was waking up now and making better sense of what he was saying. “Wait. You’re telling me you woke them up this morning, early, and they all just cheerfully went to make my breakfast?”

“No, they knew the plan.”

“When did you have a chance to plan this with three kids?”

He kissed me gently as he grabbed my hands and pulled me out of bed. “Now, darling. A man should never share his secrets. Go shower. Take all the time you need to do your hair. I’ve got breakfast and the kids covered and a full day of exploring London with you.”

“What are you…”

“Go.”

I wanted all of the details, but the draw of the shower was stronger. One thing I had learned to appreciate about Niall’s flat was his water pressure. It was a thing of true beauty and I stood using all of his hot water for as long as I could stand it, washing and conditioning my hair. Leisurely stealing his expensive soap. Allowing the stream of water to massage out the pleasant exhaustion Niall assured me was normal for a vacation.

I’d sleep on a thin mattress full of nothing but feathers if it meant I got to use that shower every day.

There was a crashing sound from the kitchen as I finally stepped out and I almost rushed to see what had broken but paused at the sound of deep laughter. He was spoiling me in ways I never could have imagined. It was a relief to be able to pick up a hair dryer and take time brushing out my hair knowing there was another adult who had it handled.

When I finally joined them there was flour all over the counters, stray raspberries scattered across the floor, and four grinning faces greeting me. “Happy birthday!” they chorused together before my younger siblings attacked me with hugs.

“No cake,” Niall said, holding out a plate in front of him. “But we made you waffles with all of your favorite toppings.” Sure enough, there were thick waffles with syrup, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and raspberries on top-- completed with a single candle.

“I told him that if we put all 21 candles on it, we might set off the fire alarm,” Ethan teased. I pushed his head playfully and he grinned again.

Even with Niall leading them, there still managed to be six different keys between the four of them for singing happy birthday to me, and they ended in three different places, but I couldn’t get the smile off my face. It was by far the best birthday I’d ever had and it was only the morning. Behind the residual smoke from my single candle being blown out, Niall’s glowing face promised a day that I’d never forget.

---

And how could I? He had planned everything out perfectly with my interests in mind. He remembered conversations I would have never thought to hold onto. He thought of everything and expected no work on my part from beginning to end.

Breakfast was homemade waffles made to perfection with scrambled eggs and sausages that I watched Ethan scarf down as fast as he could. He participated in a video chat with each of my siblings still in the States so they could all wish me a happy birthday, as well. He took charge of cleaning up and directing the kids on what to do to streamline everything. Once he and the kids were dressed, he ushered us out the door and down to the car.

“Where are we going?” Ethan asked as he crawled into the back with his sisters.

Niall shook his head, “Does no one in this family enjoy a good surprise?”

“No,” all three kids chorused together.

“Get used to it.”

Traffic was as hectic as ever but we eventually made it to a parking garage in London near all the tourist attractions. “Won’t you be recognized?” I asked nervously as we all piled out of the car. Niall pulled on a ball cap and gestured to his nondescript clothing. “I really hate to break it to you, but you’re no less gorgeous dressed like a frat boy than you are when you’re standing on a stage in skinny jeans.”

Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

“As long as we’re moving, I should be fine.”

We walked for nearly ten minutes, keeping the kids close to us, Niall’s hand firmly gripping both mine and Olivia’s. Seeing him so protective of all of us did things to me. When I saw where we were headed, I couldn’t help the smile that was starting to hurt after half a week of it being nearly constant.

“The Tower of London?” I asked and he nodded. It had already been on our agenda for today and Niall had remembered, even though I hadn’t been detailing our plans to him much before the day of. I had mentioned it a few weeks ago, in passing, that it was the plan for the morning of my birthday.

He wasn’t playing around, either. We were met near the start of the line by a woman who introduced herself as our guide. He had arranged a privately guided tour for all five of us, allowing plenty of time for me to absorb every detail that I wanted.

And we did. Between the four Americans, we kept her on her toes asking questions and looking at everything we could. Niall kept track of Livy so I wouldn’t have to worry constantly about where she was. Ethan and Bethany did their part to not wander too far away and only squabbled a little, which I still had to manage but I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my morning.

When we were done, we wandered down the street towards a sandwich shop and I got my next surprise in the form of a familiar face. “Mark!” He wrapped me up in a friendly hug with a happy birthday. “I thought you’d be spending time with your family, not slumming it in London on your break.”

“My family’s in the city while I’m here. Don’t worry about me.” Niall introduced him to my younger siblings and Mark joined us in the shop for lunch.

When we were done, Mark took the kids back up to the counter to buy sweets and Niall turned to me with nervousness in his eyes for the first time this trip. “Mark’s actually here for a reason. I want your trip to be special and today to be all about you. I want the rest of the day to be just you and me.”

My heart squeezed in my chest. I wanted that, too, but… “Niall, the kids. We can’t just leave them to their own devices, even at the flat. It’s not right.”

“I know, I thought about that. That’s why Mark’s here. If you’re comfortable with it, Mark has agreed to take the kids for the rest of the day. I figured you’d be happier if it was someone you knew and trusted.”

“But, his time with his family…”

“They have their own stuff today.”

I sigh, wanting so desperately to give in because I want it, too. Time with just Niall outside the moments we stole before we fall asleep at night seemed like a dream. When they came back to the table, I laid it out on the table for them. “Are y’all comfortable spending the rest of the day with Mark?”

Ethan, predictably, eagerly agreed. He was convinced the man was more than he let on and had been asking about exercise in ways that implied he believed Mark had killed a man. Nothing was cooler to a twelve year old boy. Bethany nodded her own agreement, seeming unconcerned with the plan. “You and Niall need some time to do whatever it is adults do in this city.”

Livy was the only hold out. She glanced nervously between me and Mark. Abandonment issues were a real and constant thing with her these days and I couldn’t blame her. If she said no, I’d tell Niall we needed to reevaluate the plans. But she quietly asked, “Are you coming back tonight?”

“Yes,” Niall assured her. “And if you’re asleep before we get back, I’ll make sure she goes and wakes you up long enough to know she’s home.”

She chewed the inside of her lip and asked, “Will Bethany be there all day?”

“Absolutely,” I tell her, wanting to touch her, reassure her. It’s hard to give her the space she needs to make decisions on her own in an attempt to prevent any more codependency issues. My first instinct is to make everything better for her and it’s hard to let that go.

Finally, she nodded. “I’ll go with Mark.”

It was huge for her, but I couldn’t make a big deal about it without making her take another three steps back so I settled for smiling at her and assuring her that Mark was very nice and that I knew him well from his time in Texas and when I had visited the band.

It’s still hard watching them walk away and back towards Niall’s car, which he gave Mark the keys for. “I’ve got a service picking us up tonight,” he explained when I questioned it. “Mark hasn’t got a car big enough for all four of them.”

I set my shoulders and smiled up at him. “So, what’s on the plans for an adult’s afternoon?”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and steered me down the street. “We’re gonna take a little stroll before our next tour.”

I glanced up at him, taking in his relaxed features. He was happy, content. Well rested even though I knew tour was exhausting for all of them already, and this had only been the first leg. “I bet it’s boring playing tourist in a city you already know so well.”

“I’d play tourist in Mullingar if it meant I got to spend the day with you,” he replied easily. “Besides, I don’t get many opportunities to explore London like this. It’s nice to be a tourist, again.”

“You do nothing but travel.”

“Ken, you’ve been with me on tour before. There aren’t many opportunities to get out and see the sights. Last year they had to put us in a bread van just to get us out of a hotel to go see the Christ the Redeemer statue in Brazil. It doesn’t exactly allow for taking pictures in front of pretty buildings.”

We walked quietly while I wrapped my head around having to sit in a delivery van in order to leave my hotel. Things had been hectic when I had visited him on tour, but it had never been that bad. “How is it that you have to hide to leave a hotel, but you can walk through London without any problems? Why do we need two security guards to go around New York, but I haven’t even seen Howie since we got here?”

Niall kicked a coffee cup out of our way, keeping his head down as we moved. “It’s different when we’re supposed to be somewhere. When they can anticipate us leaving an airport or showing up to a venue, that’s when it’s the worst. And some countries have fewer restrictions on what the paps are allowed to do and that makes it inherently more dangerous. When we’re off, it’s easier to blend in.”

I looked around, taking in the blend of modern buildings with older ones mixed in, like they had forgotten them when they were cleaning the streets. It spoke to the nature of London as a whole, tradition laced into a fast paced, modern world. “Do you ever wish you could go back and do the normal tourist thing? Just walk down the street, taking pictures of obscure trellises without worrying about ending up in next week’s magazine print?”

“More often than you know.”

We rounded a corner and Niall led me up to a modern building. “What are we doing here?” I asked skeptically. Modern anything was more his taste than mine and so far the entire day had been geared towards my interests and likes. I was trying to not feel selfish, but this had been his idea of a birthday gift for me.

“Just trust me,” he urged me, gave me a soft kiss, and pushed the doors open for me.

Niall:

If I could spend every day watching the way Keni’s eyes light up in the face of historical information, I’d die the happiest man on Earth.

When I led her down to the basement, she’d given me a funny look and said, “You do realize you’re famous, right? People are going to know it was you if you kill me in a basement.”

“If I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would have done it back in the woods in Texas? Just trust me.” Fact was, I was nervous. This hadn’t been on her list of things she wanted to do while she was here. Nothing about the rest of our day was something she had wanted to do, but I was ready to shit myself with anxious hope that she’d love it anyway.

Either I knew her, or I didn’t, but I was sure she’d love her surprise.

The moment she saw where I’d brought her, she was speechless and I knew I’d been right. It filled me with a certain amount of pride when she looked at me with glowing eyes. “I didn’t even know this was here,” she told me, gesturing at the sign declaring that it was the Billingsgate Roman House & Baths remains.

My girl likes old things, and I’m here to provide.

“I didn’t either until I started planning for your birthday,” I confess. “I know it’s not a castle, but I thought you’d enjoy it, nonetheless.”

“It’s perfect.”

She nearly hugged our guide when she learned that taking photos wasn’t prohibited inside, as long as she didn’t use flash. But best of all was the soft “Oh!” she uttered and the wonder that filled her eyes as she looked at the 2,000 year old remains for the first time. It just looked like a collection of dirt and rubble to me, but I would have bought her an entire excavation site just to see that look on her face for one minute longer.

Drugs had nothing on the way she made me feel.

It wasn’t that I found the tour to be boring, because it really was full of information on London when the Roman’s still had control here and the way the bath house worked, but I didn’t find it interesting in the way Keni did. She asked questions constantly, her eyes taking in details that I would have ignored completely. She asked questions about social structure that even with a textbook in front of me, I wouldn’t have thought to ask.

Watching her mind work was as attractive as watching her clothes come off.

She was beside herself with giddiness an hour later when we made our way back up to ground level. “I can’t believe that it was in such good condition! Just… there. Right below London. It’s amazing! Who could even imagine?”

She could, if she gave herself enough credit. The thought made me smile as I looked at her fondly. “Well, we’re not done here, yet. Do you see that church door?” I ask, pointing up a walking path. Her lips purse as she nods. “Walk up that way.”

For a girl who had just joked about me killing her in a basement, she was awfully trusting. She didn’t even hesitate as she walked up towards what looked like a church building. I kept close enough that I could hear her gasp when she got her first glimpse at the church ruins. “Oh, they’re magnificent!” she breathed. “I would have never thought to look back here. And with all those business offices all over the place…”

“I know. It’s an oasis. Keep walking, there’s a gate up here.”

“We can go in?!”

I grinned at her and her face positively glowed with light as she rushed up the path. I followed behind her, watching her explore among the ruins and the ivy. “The church was ancient,” I told her as her fingers brushed along a window frame. “I don’t know much about the history, but it was bombed during the Blitz. The church of England made the decision not to rebuild it and at some point, they decided to turn it into a public garden.”

“Our government would have just torn it down.”

I chuckled, watching as she nearly tripped over a paving stone as she stared up at a higher window. “Don’t start thinking too highly of the British. There was plenty of that, too. But these walls have stood for a thousand years, why tear them down now?”

But she wasn’t paying attention anymore, her focus was on the ruins surrounding us.

She was too beautiful for words and I couldn’t help myself. While she was distracted wandering around, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started taking pictures of her. The wonder in her eyes. The way her hair blew lightly in the wind. Framed in doorways. Through what was left of a window. I could see her mind working, imagining what it had looked like. How the stain glass would have looked. The way people would have walked through the doors for centuries, looking for faith in faithless times.

I had pieced together Keni’s love of history bit by bit over time, through conversations and other pieces of her life that I knew about. Her working in a museum and her fascination with Greek Mythology had been the most obvious, but there had been more. When we talked, she always had random bits of trivia for a lot of the places I was traveling to. She watched documentaries fairly often on Netflix and the majority were history related. She had never met a museum she didn’t love and when she was planning this trip, she had been the most excited for the tours of all of the historic places in the area.

It wasn’t hard, if you were paying attention.

I’m glad that I was because I can tell how much she’s loving this. I was worried that I was trying to shove too much into one day, but we needed this. She needed this; being able to enjoy the history of a place without worrying about how bored Ethan was or if Liv had wandered off or if Bethany was starting to get hangry.

We’re both going to be exhausted but it’s worth it to experience what it would be like if we could travel together.

Keni was reluctant to leave, but I had another surprise up my sleeve, more that I thought she needed to see. More that I wanted to show her.

“You really love this sort of thing, don’t you? History and all of that.” We were plodding our way down a sidewalk, hand in hand, towards the street. She had just trailed off from talking about what the buildings that were still standing had seen.

“History, culture, how people live and used to live… It’s always been a passion of mine. Getting that job in the museum was like a dream come true. Where are we going, now?”

I gently nudged her and pulled her back against my side. “Have I supplied any clues so far today?”

“No.”

“And did you like it all, anyway?”

“Please? A clue?”

I shook my head and gestured to the car with a business emblem on a sticker in the windshield pulling up onto the side street. “We’re getting in this car.” She turned wide eyes to me and I chuckled. “It’s a car service. They’re supposed to be picking us up, Keni.”

“I think you’re trying to get me killed.”

Opening the door for her, I grinned. “That’s not a very good birthday present, is it?”

The glare she gave me before she slid into the backseat of the car held no heat and yet it sent heated desire through me. I was starting to think that she could do no wrong. There was nothing about her or the things she did that made me want to duck and run. If I wasn’t so sure that where we were going next was going to be the best part of her day, I’d skip straight to the end of our day where I could finally get her alone after everyone went to bed.

That peaceful look on her face as she holds my hand across the middle seat and gazes out the window at the buildings passing by… I’d sell everything I own to have this moment forever. It always feels so right but so surreal to be in her space. To breathe in the scent of my soap on her skin as she brushed past me. To be able to reach out and touch her whenever I wanted.

Kendra:

The car turned onto a small street off Piccadilly and pulled to a stop. “A bookstore?” I asked, looking at the display window of a shop with a sign declaring that they sell rare books and prints, interest and confusion swirling around in my mind.

“Antique books, to be precise,” Niall said, his face neutral but a smug look in his eyes. “Prints, too. I thought you might want to look around for Noah. And before you get fussy about how expensive something is, it’s a gift to him from me, since he couldn’t make it on the trip with the rest of ya.”

Noah’s art. He always remembered Noah’s art.

Stepping through the doors was like walking into a warm embrace. It was like a library had been condensed and intensified. All around us were cases full of books, the familiar musty smell overpowering and riddled with age. They weren’t anything I had ever considered for myself-- why buy books that were so old you couldn’t even read them for pleasure? I found myself drawn to the nearest case, however. From surprisingly vibrant covers with finely embedded gold lettering to thick leather cracked with age, long life marked by discoloration.

“I hoped you’d like it,” Niall said, his hand brushing lightly across my lower back. “Take your time, Ken.”

Everywhere I looked there was something new drawing my attention. The way covers were painted. The detailing on leather bindings. I was touched that Niall had not only remembered my love of history and books but found a way to combine them in a way I hadn’t expected. “How did you guess I would enjoy this?” I asked as I took in the details on a book called Bill the Minder, light green with gorgeous gold detailing.

He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been in a library with you, Ken. And you always have a book on you when you leave the house. Too many sometimes, but that’s an old argument.” We both smirked at the memory of us arguing about how many books it took for me to write a paper.

After looking at all of the bookshelves, I went to look at the prints. I won’t lie, it’s not really something I’m overly interested in but I knew Noah would be all over it. He paints and draws, but he’s interested in every art medium there is. In the end, I find a vintage Olympic poster from the 1972 Olympics in Munich and a piece entitled “Gentleman Commoner & Nobleman, Pro Proctor” with three men wearing what looked to be graduation regalia from some time around the Victorian era, if I had to guess. It wasn’t my major area of interest when it came to history but it fits with Noah’s high school graduation coming up and I knew he’d appreciate it.

I had thought to argue with Niall about the prices until he gave me a look that promised his full stubborn rebuttal. I left well enough alone. In the end, it wouldn’t be nearly as much as buying Noah a ticket here and back would have been.

When we made our way up to the counter, I noticed a book sitting casually on its surface. I perked up instantly as I saw the black lettering embossed on the deep red cover: A Collection of Greek Mythology. There was an image that was taken from a Greek vase depicting a battle in the same black under the title and my fingers itched to pick it up.

“You can look through it, if you’d like,” the man standing behind the counter offered as he started on working up our order. I hesitated, not wanting to damage something that probably cost a fortune. In the end, curiosity got the best of me.

The top edge of the spine and the corners were frayed in a way I was familiar with-- the sign of a frequently used book. When I gently opened the cover, I discovered a list of names, previous owners I’m sure, in fuzzy pencil markings. The text was in clunkier letters than what you’d see now, and the spacing was different. Like it had been done on a typewriter. All of the most popular Greek myths were present, with pictures depicting key scenes at the beginning of each story. Occasionally, written in the margins were small notes or lines would be underlined. It was like peeking into someone’s textbook notes.

“How old is this?” I found myself asking the man who had been helping us.

He typed something into his computer and said, “The item intake says this edition was published in 1852.”

I would have ripped my hands away from it if they hadn’t been supporting the front cover and the pages I’d already turned. It wasn’t as old as some of the other books in the shop, I’m sure, but it was the oldest thing I’d touched in my life besides maybe a rock or a building.

I shut it gently and sighed.

“Do you like it?” Niall asked, leaning against the counter as he watched the man carefully pack away Noah’s gifts.

Nodding, I pulled my hands away from the cover. Every history documentary I’d ever seen had antique pieces handled with gloves. While this book wasn’t that old, I felt weird leaving the oil from my skin all over it. “I love it.”

“Good. Cause it’s yours.”

I stared at him blankly, my mind rushing to catch up. “Niall, you can’t. It’s too…”

Warm, thick fingers reach out and wrap around mine. “Don’t start in on the price again. It’s your birthday, Keni and I know how much you love Greek mythology. I already bought it.”

Today had already had too many surprises and my brain was struggling to keep up. “You already…”

His eyes were dancing. He knew he’d done well. “That book right there is the real reason we came, I needed to pick it up for you. I scoured every rare book shop in London looking for a book on Greek mythology for you. Had to use the online catalogues since I’ve been out of the country and you wouldn’t believe how hard it is finding one.”

My hand spasmed in his, gripping his fingers tighter as I looked at the book laying in front of me. “Most guys get a girl a bear or a cheap necklace for her first birthday after they start dating. You’re setting the bar way too high, Irish.”

His smile matched the delight in his eyes. “I’m planning on outdoing this birthday for many years to come.”

I stepped into his chest, wrapping my arms around him as the smell of him mixed with the smell of books in my senses. “It’s perfect. I don’t think you’re going to be able to top this one.”

“We’re still not done.”

----

Not being done included walking around looking at all of the shops before taking me to dinner at a nice French restaurant. I felt ridiculously underdressed but Niall either didn’t notice our relaxed attire or simply didn’t care. His attention was solely on me.

He flipped back to the wine selections and pointed at them. “I know you could drink here legally yesterday but it still seems momentous.”

I wasn’t even sure what to get, but our waiter was more than enthusiastic about helping me decide based on what I had enjoyed in my limited experience and what I was ordering to eat. Once he was gone, I asked Niall, “What did you do for your 21st birthday?” I thought about it for a minute and then corrected myself, “Probably what you do for all your birthdays. I forget that it’s not that magical number in most countries.”

Niall chuckled and shook his head. “We made a pretty big deal of it, alright. We had a concert day of, but I went to Vegas as soon as I could, since I could finally have the full experience. Don’t remember much of it, to be honest.”

“How very rockstar of you,” I tease. “Six months later and you’re having to be home in time to put a 7 year old to bed. My, how the mighty have fallen.”

Blue eyes lock onto mine. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Ken.”

Say what you want about the man, but Niall knows exactly where to get good food. The waitstaff are all attentive and in no time at all, I have a steaming plate of food right in front of me. He waited until I had a mouth full of fish before asking, “If you like history and anthropology so much, why aren’t you studying them?”

I nearly choke and take a few moments to chew properly and get my mind in order. “I have taken courses for them.”

“You know what I mean, Ken.”

I spin my fork around on my plate, half wondering if there’s someone with impeccable manners watching me and about to have a stroke. “I love them, but it’s not easy to make a career out of them. The financial risk is too great, especially with me helping out so much with the kids. I need something that has better odds of me finding a well-paying job.”

“Even if you’re not passionate about it?”

Thumbing the stem on my wine glass, I mulled over how to respond. “It’s not like I don’t care about helping people, it’s just not… my biggest interest. I don’t think there’s any harm in allowing your passion to just be a hobby in the name of doing what’s best for you and your family.”

“If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? Don’t worry about risks or your siblings for just a few minutes. What would it be?”

“I’d love to work in a history museum as an archivist or curator. Or take on a research position about ancient civilizations. Artifact research. It doesn’t really matter, as long as culture and history are involved.”

“So, you want to be Indiana Jones?”

I scrunched up my nose at him. “Would you hate me if I told you that I’ve never actually seen those movies?”

He stared at me, his jaw hanging slightly loose. “You’ve been living under a rock. Hurry up and finish your food. We’re going to go pick up cupcakes and get back to my place to fix that. Tonight.”

It wasn’t Vegas, but I couldn’t imagine a better day that he could have planned for me.

Master List

Chapter 28

#Niall Horan fan fiction #Niall Horan fan fic #One Direction fan fiction #One Direction fan fic #Niall Horan fanfiction #Niall Horan fanfic #One Direction fanfiction #One Direction fanfic #No Need to Regret #NNTR

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 4 years

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FIC: Something Borrowed, Something Blue ii

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PART ONE

Wednesday morning started dark and early for her. Sleepy kisses as she bid good morning to the other in the bed, not due to get up for another three hours, and checked in on the youngest of the household to ensure he was still fast asleep before showering and preparing for the day.

Usually Jo would sleep for another thirty minutes, but given today was due to be a long one filled with photos as she baked and decorated the demonstration trial cake from scratch, she figured an extra thirty minutes to ensure her hair and make up looked nice for the day (though inevitably she’d be flour covered by the end of the day and tendrils would fall out of the nice high pony tail before lunch). Usually she would get to wake up and luxuriate in bed for a while before getting up, showering and then waking Billy to get prepared for pre-school. Today, Jack would get the pleasure of preparing the boy for the day, making him breakfast and hearing him babble about whatever strange dream he had the night before.

Dressing for the day in a pair of denim shorts and one of the oversized shirts that still remained in her wardrobe after five years, Jo smacked her lips together and blotted the excess from her red lips as she gathered her recipe-slash-sketch book and headed out to the bakery as the sun barely made it’s creeping way into the sky. Overhead the clouds were still the dark inky blue of night time, just slightly tinged golden to the edge and purples slowly building their way through the rolling masses. The perfect inspiration for her work that day, quickly snapped a few times as she walked on her way to the bakery.

As she reached the front door, she could see the exhausted looking journalist outside already, hands clutching as if to a lifeline to the Starbucks cup. At least she knew she looked more prepared for the day than him even if it was only just past five in the morning.

“Good morning Chuck.”

The grumbled sound she got in response made Jo laugh as she unlocked the front door of the bakery. Moving inside and flicking the lights on, she noticed the man slip in behind her before sinking into one of the closest chairs as she got the space prepared for the morning. The smell of baking bread was already filling the air, her favourite part of having automatically timed ovens that she could avoid the two am starts that other places had to endure. Flicking the coffee machine on, refilling the front displays with prepared trays of cookies, cakes, slices, pastries and other goodies, Jo hummed to herself practically forgetting the other was there aside from the odd groan.

There were breads to be pulled from the ovens, trays of prepared cupcakes and brownies to go back in, a pot of caramel to be placed on the stove while the shortbread bases baked; there were muffins to be loaded into the cake displays and covered with their glass dome, glass cookie jars to be refilled and brownies to be stacked high on plates within the display case. There was milk to be checked on, fruit tarts to be glazed and mixers to be started up with bases for the rest of the days work. And finally there was a section of the kitchen to be set up in preparation for making the wedding cake base later in the morning, butter to be set out to come up to room temperature and ingredients to be laid out in decorative bowls and artfully positioned.

As the clock approached six am, the first few customers began appearing - mostly other cafes for their daily pick ups that Jo moved through easily with a laugh and a smile, and the exchange of a bunch of mint with one of the herbal stores a few blocks away that always ordered raisin and oat cookies, an entire crate full of lemons and beetroots from Mrs. Mills who ran a tea shop just out of the city who grew her own produce but was a failure baking them into anything herself but would trade ingredients for discounted trays of pastries to go along with the tea and best homemade lemonade and hard cider in the area, and the constant flirting that even now Jo never could stop partaking in when Andy came by blushing and stammering for his special brownies for the medicinal store he ran across town. Others breezed in and out smoothly, and Jo had already poured Chuck his third coffee before the hour was out by the time her long-haired barista-lawyer arrived to start up the morning as the first of the commuters would begin to arrive.

“C’mon Chuck, lets get this shoot set up for today, huh?”

There was an almost awake nod before Jo lead the way back into the kitchen where she began to lend a hand setting up a selection of cameras to capture time-lapse as well as real time footage of her working through the preparations for a demonstration cake with all the elements she’d discussed. The cupcakes had been selling well and she thought that the blueberry icing was the way to go underneath the fondant for today’s trial in preparation of Friday’s mock-up. Usually Jo mocked up cake after cake once every few weeks for a wedding, but with the amount she’d be making these flavors this week she felt comforted that she’d be fine until a few weeks before the wedding itself this time around.

“Alrighty, fondant time.” Jo chirped to herself quietly two hours later, an ongoing stream of conversation from her having filled the morning where mostly she talked to herself or sang along with the radio while Chuck seemed to either work on typing up his notes from the last two days or try to wake up still. The fondant work was always her favorite thing when she got the chance to do it, for one important reason. Slapping the large white block of fondant down and cutting it into pieces with a dough scraper, Jo let out a laugh as she started working a quarter out with her rolling pin. “Who needs a gym when you can bake instead?”

“Who indeed?” Chuck’s answer was just as vacant and distracted as her own question had been, and Jo felt a laugh pop right back up at how relaxed and unobtrusive the other was to her work. He’d barely looked up from his laptop as she’d made the batter for each tier of the much downsized trial cake for the development today; and Jo liked it that way.

Working the white fondant out until it was a thin enough sheet to go through her larger scaled roller, she called him over to move a camera to catch the process as she fed the fondant through one end over and over until it was paper thin. Slicing out little shapes of various sizes and laying them out on a baking sheet dusted with potato starch and layer separated by a tea towel, Jo spent the next hour slowly making those white petals and then various petals of lilac and deep aubergine as well in smaller amounts. As she did that, there were cakes and brownies removed from ovens, loaves of bread traded out and cupcakes and pastries a plenty made and prepared all over again like her Monday in anticipation of the day off tomorrow to keep the bakery ticking over.

By lunch time, Jo had three full trays, six layers deep of petal and leaf shapes, and long flouncy ruffles to do an ombred ruffled layer, as well as the white fondant ready to be marbleised with the different purple shades after a lunch break.

“So,” The journalist’s voice caught her as Jo finally sat down for the first time in some seven hours as the clock hit just after one in the afternoon as she cut herself a slice of salmon quiche after dishing up the same for the other man. Perched on her stool and pulled up close to the central island, Jo raised a brow across at the finally awake voice and her eyes spotted the running silver dictaphone in the middle of the bench as they started her lunch break. Sam had been in the hour before for a quick bite while Jo’d worked the coffee machine for the quick lunch rush, and the amount of cocoa on her cheeks was less than normal considering. “I got my rough draft from a lot of stuff yesterday-”

“Was that helpful for you? Thinking about getting into INKED and leaving Rolling Stone?”

“Eye opening, yes, but I’m stuck here until this sham of a wedding is complete.” Chuck grumbled the words out quietly, eyes focused on the trashy magazine pile he’d brought with him that day that held stories that Jo suspected were about the bride and her ‘whirlwind’ romance - the fake stories that didn’t have a lick of truth to them.

Her back when rigid and Jo found herself snarling sharply at the accusation against her friend, lips curled into a sneer. “Now listen here, buddy. Absolutely nothing about this wedding is a sham.” Jo’s brown eyes flashed dangerously for a second as she caught his eye finally, and found herself shaking her head and holding up a hand as the other’s mouth opened to speak. “No no. No talking until I’m done. I get that you might have an image of what Shada is like, what she does for a living, how she presents herself to the world, and the way the show she’s on has given her whole... storyline. But absolutely none of that is accurate to the woman I know. Nor to the man that loves her, and the depth of their romance.”

“Oh?” Chuck’s brow raised in return before he set his magazines back down and picked up his notepad and pen instead even though his laptop was open beside him. An analog guy it seemed. “Well, I’ve got to say - I’d love to be able to write the most genuine series of articles I can about this wedding compared to this-”

“Trash.” Jo supplied the word at the gesture of his pen towards the stack of magazines, and the bemused smile she got for it made her hackles drop from how they had been risen.

“Exactly.” The other nodded for a moment before gesturing his hand at her. “Well, tell me the real story again then - I know we covered some yesterday but that’s just broad strokes. Give me fine details, huh?”

Jo found herself sighing, and then launching into the many, many positive and wonderfully genuine parts to her friend throughout the rest of the afternoon. For the next four hours as she layered the small cakes together with buttercream, crumb coated and then fondant wrapped one in the ombre ruffles, one into the beautiful purple marble coated and then sparkling with carefully placed gold-leaf, and the lilac purple buttercream cake which was then covered in the delicate roses made out of the petals - each with tiny edging of silver-leaf and shimmering with a light layer of lustre dust. And as she assembled the small practice cakes, she talked of her friend.

Shada’s genuine smiles, her love of her brother, how she’d always be kind to anyone and everyone she met. The way the dark haired woman never once ordered anyone directly to do something, unless it was followed by an apology for being pushy. How the girl had grown so much in the two years Jo had known her, and the maturity and wisdom that she spoke with on a regular basis. How Shada was so kind to her son, and the way the girl truly wanted to get married and have a family. That Shada had been unsure about the wedding being a part of the show and covered as much as it was, even if she’d daydreamed as a teenager of being rich and famous and a star-studded wedding to one of the Jonas Brothers - that now she was marrying the love of her life, that the brunette would be truly happy marrying in a potato sack (”one that she would obviously make purple and look beautiful in though!”) and still be happy. How the starlet had planned originally to have a quiet, intimate wedding at Ian’s family manor in France during the break in filming, before the couple had talked about the opportunity and agreed after being approached that they could do this for Shada’s career and have the smaller, intimate celebration for their anniversary the following year.

It was as Jo continued to place tiny edible pearls around the roses, that she found herself being guided into reminiscing about her own wedding in comparison. The quick court house event that she’d worn a lacey, white shift dress she’d bought for $2.50 at a secondhand store while her Marine wore his dress uniform. The posey of baby’s breath in her hand and the way the ceremony was completed in no time in front of her mom, Bobby the other couples getting married right before and after them. How the only photograph was taken by Ellen on the courthouse steps as she’d been lifted in her husband’s arms and one of her shoes had fallen off as she’d laughed. That her wedding dinner was pizza in bed as they watched some old black and white movie that he loved, and Jo’d fallen asleep in no time. That he’d been shipped out two months later, and dead within four from then.

And she spoke softly, as she wrapped the fourth option in a layer of plain white fondant before collecting her airbrush kit and the array of purples, blacks and golds to start covering the blank canvas in her own form of art, of how much she wished the couple far more than half a year of happiness. The gentle whistle of the airbrush as she delicately mottled the colors together and as she smiled thinking to herself that she was absolutely certain the pair would have that.

The noise from the front of the bakery was quieting down as Jo finished the last flourish and grinned across at the journalist as he continued to look up and down between her and his notepad. It was closing time, and she had four examples to show her friend on Friday when her and her fiance arrived originally for the final design choices, and she’d have enough cake prepared to do a full size mock up of the design they chose that day as the journalist would talk to the couple and snap photos beside her and her work. But for today, she was done and began putting away the demonstrations and the baked goods and doughs she’d prepared for Sam to utilise tomorrow while she was out with the bride and her entourage.

“Jojo, mamacita, your boyfriend is bothering me again!” The called voice that bounced through the door to the front as Ash pushed it open and followed in the grinning professor with his own laugh. “He was bothering me about someone’s photoshoot and when those photos would be coming in.”

“I wasn’t-” Jack’s blushed furiously as he moved towards her at the fridge, his hands reaching out to go around her waist before stopping short noticing the scruffy journalist packing away his laptop and notepad though the dictaphone stayed out in the middle of the bench. In an instant, his arms dropped to his side and Jo found herself frowning to see the smile drop just as quickly from his face and whatever he’d been saying disappear along with it. “... Jo.”

“Hunny.”

“How was your day?”

Arching a blonde brow, Jo let out a bit of a laugh to herself as she noticed the focus of Jack’s eyes on the silver recording device until Chuck’s hand wrapped about it and tucked it away in his messenger bag.

“It was fine,” Jack’s voice was still tight and quiet, brushing against the curve of her ear as she moved in closer, before he spoke a little louder and clearer. “Have a good evening, Mr Shurley. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Seven beautiful women and an array of gowns?” Chuck grinned widely as he moved about the kitchen towards the door and Ash’s equally appreciative grin. Raising a hand in a wave, he pressed it against his chest, mocking a wound. “How did I get this job, huh? Luckiest bastard-”

“Your week just keeps gettin’ better and better!” Ash laughed along with him and he followed the reporter out of the bakery with a wave behind him at the couple, closing the swinging door behind him. “See ya later, lovebirds.”

“Tell Sam I’ll close up!” Jo called out loudly to the others back as the door swung back and forth and finally closed, before she found two hands wrapped around her waist and then let out a squeal as she was lifted up onto her still floury work surface. “Hun!”

“Yes?” Jack’s lips spread into a wicked smile as he leaned in to catch her own for a moment before pulling back. Jo could feel her cheeks heating up as his fingers brushed over her flour and sugar covered hair to tuck a few strands back before he kissed her again, thoroughly and hard, fingers tangled in her messy hair. There were a long, heated moment before he pulled back again leaving her breathless as he let out his own sigh. “What a day.”

“Yeah? What happened?” Jo ran her own fingers through his hair gently in return as the slightly stressed look she’d remembered from the last years exam time started up again. He always ran himself ragged during them, and if nothing else, she could ease some of his stress with her kisses and touch. “Tell me all about it over dinner?”

“I’d much rather hear about your day.” He replied gently, leaning into her touch for a moment before they both smiled at one another.

Jo recalled the discussion of the day as they packed up the kitchen and closed up the front of the bakery too, with Jack’s hands carefully wiping the flour from her jeans and then helping her to pack each thing away as needed. They took no time at all to close up and walked hand in hand on their way back to Jack’s house. As he’d wrapped his fingers around hers, Jo couldn’t help but think as she talked about how happy she was for his little sister finding the love of her life, that perhaps she’d been lucky enough to find another one.

Dinner was quieter that night - Bobby and Ellen taking care of Billy for the next two nights as a fun sleep over as well as to keep him from getting Jo to run late the next morning - than usual with just the two of them, but at the same time it meant that Jo could relax on the sofa with her feet up and a glass of wine while she could hear the quiet humming of a song and the sizzle of bacon and the bubbling of pasta from the kitchen without lifting a finger.

“Carbonara?” Jo sniffed the coated pasta happily as the bowl was offered out to her and she swung her legs around to sit upright as the dark haired man took the seat beside her. “You spoil me.”

“Not nearly enough for what you’re going to be dealing with tomorrow for me.” Jack’s voice was gentle and teasing in equal measure as he slumped beside her and kicked his own feet up on the coffee table. The baker curled up beside him and tucked her feet under his legs as they both dug into their dinner together.

Jo shook her head, smiling. “Nah, I’m doing it for your sister, you idjit.”

“How am I an ...idjit?!”

“Because, hun,” She giggled quietly, slurping up one of the noodles with a loud noise before smiling widely. “Not everything is about you. And I love your sister all on her own.”

“You do, do you?” His voice was softer than before then, the teasing tone bleeding out and replaced with something gentler and that made her stomach flip a little as he chewed on his own mouthful thoughtfully before swallowing. Jack turned his head to catch her eyes with those piercing blue ones of his, staring straight at her and if Jo could she would have melted right then under his look as he quirked one side of his lips up. “And why’s that?”

Jo’s tongue felt ten times too big while her mouth felt parched of any kind of moisture before she blinked a few times out of that look. Her cheeks a bright red, she smiled back simply. “Because, she’s more like family now.”

“Aunty Shayday and all?”

“Exactly.”

If she was red before, it was nothing on the flaming feeling of her whole face and neck as Jack’s eyes had searched hers for something she wasn’t sure of as they spoke, before he finally seemed to reach a conclusion and turn back towards the television with a small, secretive smile. “Well, that’s good that you’re not going to be tortured for me.” There was a beat as Jo recovered herself and the other chewed another mouthful of pasta, before he added cheekily, “Now I don’t need to spoil you tomorrow night too.”

“Hey! No fair!” Jo laughed and giggled then, cuddling into his side as they settled in to watch a movie and then head up to bed later. It would be a relaxing night before the inevitable stresses of the next day, and she was going to savour every moment of calm she could fit in before the morning came.

But come it did.

Rolling over onto her back as she climbed off of her love with a quiet, happy moan as his hands followed her path to continue running across the bright colors of her sides, Jo wished she didn’t have to get out of the bed at all. Her skin was marked all over between her tattoos and the signs of their lovemaking, but if she had it her way they’d both stay there until there wasn’t a piece of skin without the ghost of his lips on it. Stretching her back and letting out a giggle at the slight tickle to her side, she finally sat up after the other rolled out his side of the bed to grab a shower and rush out to work. She’d made him late for his 8am class, but as Jack threw a glance in the mirror from the ensuite over his shoulder back at her with his toothbrush dangling from his lips and sudsy teeth flashing a grin at her, Jo knew she wasn’t in trouble for keeping him in bed.

Rolling her hips back and forth and tossing about languidly like a cat waking from a long nap, boneless and pleased, she finally pushed herself upright before going to wrap an arm around the dark haired man’s shoulder to press a kiss on his back before heading to the shower.

She used to argue about staying the night here in his lavish townhouse - about his giving her a drawer in the ensuite and another in the wardrobe, and then more wardrobe space, and then how he got a cot-attachment added to the spare bed so that Billy could stay sleeping when he’d go down after dinner. And then it seemed pointless when her yearly lease came up and instead of renewing she found herself moving every bit of her life into a new house. Even the box of the clothes and books she’d still not thrown away, though she’d forgotten she still had it before the move. The spare, spare, spare room was reconfigured into Billy’s room, and Jack had even added another desk to the study and cleared shelves for Jo to add her cook books to the lounge and dining room spaces. Her cupcake cushions replaced his modernist blue ones, and there was a toy box brought in and added to each and every room in the house. Her tattoo designs went up on the wall beside a large oil painting of some beautiful woman with her face hidden behind shadow that held a dripping book out - Jo had not been surprised to learn that was one of the last of Jack’s work before he quit, the sheer mania, depression and confusion in the brush strokes hit her hard every time she stopped to stare up into the dark void where the woman’s eyes should be but weren’t yet felt like she was screaming out from. And in the kitchen her trinkets and gadgets and utensils had filled the drawers that before had the spartan one knife-fork-spoon combination.

The rainfall shower head was a luxury, and Jo waved goodbye through the fogged up glass as Jack left, leaving her to spend a good amount of time lathering and rinsing her hair. The whole room smelled like the bakery as she stepped out from the mists and set about doing her hair and make up nicely, but not too nicely as to upstage the stars of what was going on today. A little wave, a messy bun and just enough concealer to cover the darkest spots that littered her neck and her under eyes for different reasons was all that she needed to do to look suitable - if she needed anything more, Jo figured since it was actually being filmed but not scripted, she’d have access to an actually talented make up artist. Besides, she was known as the bubbly, cute baker girl so it made sense she looked a little rougher around the edges. At least this time she’d not have flour in her hair or cocoa on her nose.

Jeans and a black knit sweater, followed by a green hoodie borrowed from Jack’s wardrobe was her choice for the day. What she wore on the outside mattered less than wearing the nude colored strapless bra and nude toned underwear, but she drew the line at wearing heels for the whole day. Tossing her keys, phone and a few paper bags of snacks into her bag and her travel mug of coffee in hand before dashing out the door, the blonde flagged down the first taxi she saw and spent the trip chewing on her nails.

She hadn’t had to deal with bridesmaids for her own wedding - there hadn’t been time, and besides she hadn’t had female friends back when she was twenty-one and flunking out of her history major - and the few bridal parties that had come through the bakery had scared her immensely that a group of women with one goal in mind was a terrifying thing. To be part of said group felt entirely alien for her, and Jo half wished she could be on the grooms side of the aisle in a suit and without any drama instead.

Far quicker than she had wished, the taxi pulled up out front of the nondescript building with the small black sign and Jo handed over a twenty to cover the trip and tip as she clambered out ungracefully onto the pavement before steeling her nerves. She could spot that one camera guy she always spotted winking at everyone and who she had enjoyed flirting shamelessly and harmlessly with every time they filmed at the bakery leaning against the brickwork by the building’s door.

“Hey Gabey, what’s cracking?”

“Well now, gorgeous, that’d be spoiling the surprise wouldn’t it?”

“Like you care about spoilers!”

Gabriel, the previous camera man turned B-director, shook his head with a laugh and a smirk as she needled him for answers. “Come now, you know I need to get genuine reactions from you all.”

The blonde laughed in return, quirking a brow up at him. “Are you suggesting that I, Jo Harvelle, might not give a genuine reaction?”

“I plead the fifth.” The dark haired director laughed back, shouldering his camera bag on his shoulder with a sigh as a trio of black cars arrived and began unpacking with the rest of the small camera and other crew members poured out and then quickly into the building. “Ugh, I know Shada wished this could have been skipped-”

“But that would miss out so much potential drama, right?” Jo smiled back at him for a moment, before digging about in her bag to pull out one of the paper bags. Waving it at him, she raised a brow. “I’ll trade you these for confirmation that there isn’t any scripted drama today and that I don’t have to fake anything other than that I don’t think Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee are vicious conniving bitches.”

The bag was exchanged in a flash, and the wide, toothy grin she got back in response when the other saw the selection of chocolate chip cookies that were also made using her burnt butter base and shards of salted toffee inside made her smile back at the cheeky salute before Gabe moved off with a shout for some hair stylist ‘Balthy’ to get his ass inside quickly.

Jo found herself leaning up against the wall herself instead, the warmth from the other’s back still in the brick, as she pulled her phone out to start getting ahead on orders and emails while she had the time. She dipped a hand into her bag to fetch out the bannana bread, oat muffin with peanut butter she’d packed for her breakfast that she started nibbling at between coffee sips as she waited. It was just before nine, but the girls were known to be late.

Over the next thirty minutes others slowly trickled into arriving - first was the taller blonde girl with a big, wide smile and the cutest habit of always covering her hair in little lace bows that was Ian’s little sister; followed by the brunette Bela who’s sunglasses hid almost all of her face except for her pout, and then the newly black haired Ruby with a snappy greeting for everyone before disappearing off at the wave of greeting from the director of the day. Jo was talking at length with Ombre about the different cake designs she had been working on and was showing her the photos of the trials from the day before when the next two women arrived.

“Oh lookie, the baker is here too.” The clipped tone pulled Jo out of explaining to the excited Ombre just how to make the ruffled cake that matched her name, and looking over her shoulder at the new arrivals, the blonde didn’t even bother to keep the sneer off her lips as she looked at the redhead. Anna smirked back, smugly, raising a brow at her. “I suppose you’re here to make our dear Shada seem more grounded right?”

“No, no, Anna, it’s cause she’s trying to fuck her way into society the same way Shada did.” Lilith’s snide comment rolled out from her with an equally vicious grin on her lips at getting to throw a few comments in before she would need to play nice-r to the cameras. “Tell me, Jojo, did you give her pointers for how to do that with your step-daddy or-”

“Lilith, you better shut your goddamn fucking mouth before I shut it for you.” There wasn’t even a beat before Jo had the other blonde pushed back against the brickwork with a hand around her neck, pressure tight but not dangerous as she glared up at the other woman. She held the position for a count of five in her head, before stepping back and leaning down to pick her coffee up from where she’d left it earlier. “Today is about Shada, and I will not have a single person say a negative thing about her, her life, her choices or anything to do with her and this wedding or anything else, okay?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself!” The deeper than usual tone cut through the small crowd of women as Ruby arrived back with their director in tow right then. Gabriel’s eyes caught Jo’s for a split second longer than the others as he stared each woman down - and all she could think was that this poor man had to herd this crowd of women day in and day out without anyone unconnected enough to lay down the law, and how much harder that must be dealing with five grown women than one almost-five year old. “Anyway, ladies, if you could head inside for the last touch ups and then Shada should be here and we’ll reconvene outside for the outside shots, right?”

Jo wasn’t at all surprised by the warm clasp of the dark haired Ruby’s arm around her shoulders leading her and Ombre inside into the ridiculous process of last minute checks and confirmations from the miniature hair and make up team preparing for the day. The younger blonde almost cried when the hair stylist Balthazar suggested taking out some of her bows, and then the fact both Anna and Bela were made to change their dresses to something different due to ‘looking too alike’ in the camera was insane. Jo watched on in a mixture of shock, awe and disdain as the make up, hair and wardrobe stylists did their work, and was only a little relieved when she was left alone as ‘good enough’ since she doubted she’d be filmed much that day. If she was, she’d have to bring out her back up bribery too. Ruby likewise was left alone, and the make up artist glared daggers at Jo when Lilith complained her neck looked ‘a little too red’. But everyone was touched up and finalised within half an hour, and Shada too had arrived and was barely containing her nerves.

She wasn’t sure when he arrived, but Jo noticed Chuck walking about behind other cameras and ducking under wardrobe racks at one point with his camera out and dictaphone hanging from a cord on his neck. Jo smiled when she caught his eye, but thankfully today wasn’t actually about her. Today was his content for the month after her cake special - all about the bridesmaids - and she would barely be spoken to today. This was his first chance to interview and speak with the other five bridesmaids, so really Jo would get to spend most of the day talking to Shada and keeping her company instead.

As the group were guided out to the black trio of cars again and slid into various seats to represent the way they would arrive to the studio, Jo laughed when Gabe grabbed her arm and had her lean up against the building instead.

“Really?”

“What can I say? The lighting looks great on you like that. Besides,” Gabe grinned conspiratorially at her as they waited for Shada and Ombre to climb into the third car, with Ruby and Lilith into the second and Anna and Bela in the first, “It means you didn’t have to go into one of the cars with those conniving bitches.”

“My hero.” Jo replied with a flourish of eyelash batting and laughter alike as she picked up her coffee mug, refilled by Shada’s PA Kevin, and began checking her phone as instructed and felt natural to her as she waited for this intro shooting to finish.

Soon enough the group were ushered back into the salon - now looking like a proper boutique rather than the explosion of wardrobe and styling that it had looked before - and Shada was greeted enthusiastically by the extremely smug fashion designer Meg Masters from Mastersara Bridal.

“Welcome, ladies, to my boutique.” The brown waves around the woman’s face were so well quaffed, like the other starlets that surrounded Jo as they moved into the space and were guided by the designer towards the luxurious white sofas with the golden accents. The whole group looked mostly put together, and Jo could tell as she made sure not to look directly down the lens of the camera walking backwards before them as they moved that there was a clear line between the reality stars, and herself and Ombre. If she hadn’t already been sure, then the look of distaste that swept the designers face as Jo slumped down on one end of the couch beside the perky blonde was enough to confirm it. “Our sophisticated designs are here for your review, and I am certain that you will find the perfect design for your vision in our collection.” The glance towards Shada and the rest of the stars as the B-camera came to pan across each womans’ reactions was enough to make Jo fight not to snort. “Mastersara Bridal is for not only the modern bride, but the modern bridal party - and we are so touched-” Jo found herself frowning at the tone as the dark haired woman said that word, the tiny curl to her lip and slight sardonic element to it as Meg’s eyes forcefully stayed staring straight, “-that you are here to select your gowns.”

Glancing to her right at the bride herself, Jo could see the glimmer of excitement and the wet sheen in the brunette’s eyes as she smiled that beautiful way that lit up the whole room. The family trait that Jo knew so well, and found herself smiling in return about it as Shada clapped her hands excitedly.

“I love shopping!” The excited giggle that came from the bride was perfectly timed, and the laughter that rippled out was almost entirely genuine from the group that were there, before Shada bounced back up to her feet. “I’m so excited!”

“I’m sure you are,” Meg smiled back, a tiny slice of danger behind white teeth, but waved a hand towards one side of the room. “Let’s see what we can find, shall we ladies?”

Jo actually flinched at the loud squealed exclamations from all the other women, before the group dispersed quickly in a rush in all different directions. Blinking in surprise, she caught the bemused look on their director’s face for the day as he bit into one of his cookies with a wink as he waved a hand for the three other camera men to start following the rest of the group.

Taking a deep breath as the noise slowly quieted down and instead each small group of women began talking amongst themselves, the blonde leaned over her knees as she breathed in and out. This was a lot. She was used to having this level of excitement and such around her, but as she finally got to her feet and approached where Shada was talking animatedly about only wanting purple shades regardless of if certain people’s hair would clash horribly and wash them out, Jo was surprised to realise that it was overwhelming for her in a way she’d never experienced before.

“Oh Bela, I know you’re not a fan, but green just is so not my color wheel.” Shada giggled loudly at the seductive green silk dress the other brunette was holding up to her frame. “Besides, you’re a bridesmaid - you’re not there to be sexy.”

“Says you.” Bela tossed her head back with a smile, eyes flashing and Jo was sure that the camera was eating every second of that wicked look. “You know weddings are the perfect place to meet men, and I know that Ian has some equally rich and handsome cousins-”

“No!” The chirp came from the blonde that stuck her head with a very exaggerated scowl through the nearest clothing rack. Ombre eyed the actress with a frown for a moment before adding sharply, “My cousins are all gay. Or married. Or-”

“Or you’re lying to disuade me.”

“Maybe.”

“Girls, lets not fight - we’ve got to find dresses.” Jo found herself speaking up as the bickering back and forth began and all she could envision was how frustrating it was to deal with Billy’s squabbling with his friends and put her foot in before it could get going. “Shada, how about you get everyone to grab a dress or two - so long as they can be made in a purple tone - and we can get started?”

There was a second before her friend’s arms went around her waist and Jo found herself laughing along with Shada as she grinned back at her. “See? This is why we need a mom around here! Someone who knows what they’re doing!” Looking over Jo’s shoulder, Shada flapped her hand at those around the room. “Let’s get trying!”

The god awful squeal happened again, and biting down on a wince, Jo let Shada link their arms together and herself be towed about the room as the brunette reviewed dress after dress with the designer pointing out features left and right. It took forever, but perhaps that was just how it felt to Jo, before the six bridesmaids were each sent off to their own dressing rooms with a large array of dresses in each to match one another - guided to start from the left to the right.

Letting out a sigh, Jo stripped off and quickly pulled on the first dress with little struggle. At least this one, compared to some of the others, looked a lot less intimidating. Tugging the chiffon straps carefully, Jo frowned when they wouldn’t stay up and instead hung off her shoulder. It must have been intentional, she thought as she readjusted her bra and settled everything where it should be before there was a called out direction by the directing man for the bridesmaids to emerge on the count of three.

Sighing to herself, Jo followed instructions and moved out of her changing room towards the central space in line with the other bridesmaids to scrutiny.

Looking down the line, the blonde found herself smiling to see Ombre swishing the skirt of the soft lilac dress happily, while both Anna was trying not to scowl on camera while trying to pull her dress down enough to show more cleavage than should be necessary or was acceptable in such a simple and classic dress. The color looked beautiful on a few of the other women’s skin tones, but washed out others like Bela and Ombre.

Jo jerked at the sound of a laugh near her, and looked over to see Chuck with his camera pointed directly at her while Gabe was directing his own the cameras away from her. Frowning, she raised a brow at the men in confusion.

“Have a good night, Jo?” Chuck asked, tone full of implication, as Shada and Lilith bickered about whether the color of the dress was dramatic enough or not. Jo frowned further in confusion until the reporter gestured at her neck. “Should have remembered you were doing things today.”

Turning her head towards the mirror, Jo let out a loud laugh noticing the dark patch under her ear that was visible now she’d switched her borrowed hoodie out for a dress. Giggling, she looked about for an option before a tall, lanky blond came over with a compact and whispered at her in an accent that would have once upon a time been dreamy about “got mauled by an octopus did you, dearie?”

Thankfully the rest of the women were busy squabbling or enjoying their dresses that by the time all turned towards Jo she was covered sufficiently and could simply say she thought the dress was ‘nice’ and ‘a good start’ without any further questions other than to turn the topic back to the bride.

“I agree, Jo, it’s a good start. I love the color - its so lovely and reminds me of spring! It would match the wisteria arches perfectly...” Shada frowned slightly in the sweetest looking frown Jo had seen in a while, tapping at her lip with a finger as her brows furrowed and a camera came in for a close up. “But something about the strap bothers me. Onto the next!”

The clap that followed that was order enough for the bridesmaids and director alike for them all to return to the dressing rooms for the next dress.

Jo emerged before being called this time - half to check that she didn’t have anything extra to be hidden and half to check on the bride herself - and found herself blushing at the loud exclamations of how beautiful she looked from her friend.

“Oh Jo, you have to get a dress like this some day. My brother would eat you up!” Shada leaped off of the sofa to run up to her, all smiles and grins as the camera crew focused on taking b-roll of the store itself while the other women struggled to get dressed. The brunette took her hands in a second before tugging for Jo to spin so the soft, tulle swirled about in a beautiful arch while Jo could hear in the background the shutter of the reporter’s ever observant camera going off. “Look at your figure, wow. Wow. You’d totally steal the show from me!”

Jo laughed along with the other at that, aware that the warm tone and the way the other pulled her in for a hug that that would in no way be true but the sentiment felt so strongly. She did look nice, she supposed, catching a glimpse in the mirror. She was just lucky her breasts had shrunk back to almost the same level after having weaned Billy onto a bottle all those years ago, because with much more cleavage and she’d look very different in this dress.

The rest of the bridesmaids slowly emerged, and Jo bit down on a smirk at the decreasingly excited or pleased reaction each woman got as more appeared in the beautiful design. The deep-v that looked lovely on Jo, Lilith and Ombre, looked borderline tacky on the two dark haired women when Bela and Ruby emerged even if the dark purple color of the bodice looked beautiful on their complexions. And on the redhead when Anna eventually emerged, it looked downright tawdry.

“Oh no.” Shada shook her head, eyes fixed on the ample curve of bossom visible in the deep-v of the redhead’s dress before she swept a glance over the rest of them with a wistful look. “No, no, this one won’t do. You all look far too sultry and amazing. Though perhaps I should buy one of these for my hen’s night?”

The round of laughter and eye rolls that came from that, as well as the extreme pout from the redhead were amusing, and Jo made her way over in a swish of fabric as the rest moved back to the dressing room to catch the bride’s arm.

“Hey, Shada sweetheart, it’s absolutely okay if we don’t find something today, okay?”

“But-”

“No,” Jo shook her head at the somewhat deflated look on the other’s face as Jo guided her to sit down. “I know all those girls have their own expectations of what they want to look like, but you should know that this is about what you want and what will make you happiest.”

The glance the dark haired woman gave to the cameras that were now focused on the pair was concerning, though Jo reached out to grip her chin firmly but gently and caught her eye again. “No. This is about you Shada, not any of that. This is all about you, and your love and your happiness - not the dresses, not the cameras or the opinions or the whims of everyone else. You tell me which dress you want, when you see it, and I will make sure you get exactly what you want.” Jo could feel the prickle of tears at the corner of her eyes as she said it - remembering the voice that was becoming less clear growling to her that 'whatever makes you happy’ when she’d said she just wanted her own wedding over with - before smiling widely. “You are the bride, Shada, and this is about your big day. Not everything else happening around it.”

There was a beat before the younger girl nodded her head a few times and Jo wrapped her up in a tight, bone-crushing hug for a moment regardless of the cameras on them and the shutter sound of the smaller ones. After a moment, she pulled back and knocked her fist gently against the other’s chin before rushing back to her dressing room to get into the next dress.

Jo barely refrained from jerking away when she noticed the next dress, scowling to herself as she pulled it on and tugged at the turtleneck of it as it scratched at her skin. Turning in the mirror, she pulled a face all over again at the figure hugging nature of the dress and just how much of a Mom-ass she looked to have already in that dress.

Heading to her spot in the line up, Jo found herself biting back a laugh at the vehement fight breaking out between Shada and Lilith over the dress itself.

“No way! They’re too sparkly-”

“I happen to think these are better than those trashy, boring dresses from before.”

“You all look trashy now!”

“You would know!”

“Get the Hell out of those things!” Shada shrieked, gesturing along the line of women as the smirking blonde continued to tug her dress to show of every single curve of her body in the dress in a way Jo was trying to conceal for herself. “My wedding is not in Las Vegas! No way, no how, get out of them now!”

Jo was glad to turn tail without even being out in that one for even a minute, before catching sight of the next dress with a sense of dread. Sparkles and sequins weren’t exactly Jo’s dream idea, but as she struggled to work out the straps to the open sides and back of the next dress and had to call a store girl in to help, she couldn’t help but find her breaths rushing realising that perhaps if this dress was chosen she’d definitely stand out.

Emerging to the floor to see Shada, Ombre and Bela gushing about the dresses in the centre of the room and how pretty the color was on each woman, Jo tugged a little at the side of her dress. Glancing towards the large mirrors before them, she could see three quarters of each of her ribcage tattoos on display under the straps - dark lines and bright colors standing out against her skin and the deep eggplant color. Frowning to herself, she moved up towards the other women and blushed brightly when all three turned to look at her with matching frowns at the distracting ink from the design of the dresses.

“What do you think? Too much?” Ruby’s voice cut over them as she moved up as well, and Jo’s eyes went straight to her chest and the limited coverage in this dress compared to the other deep-v. “Not enough?” The additional comment seemed to be addressed over the women’s heads towards the camera crew, and Jo bit down a smile at the smirk and thumbs up sent back to the dark haired beauty from the directing chair. “Shada, me thinks this might not work-” There was a pause as Ruby glanced behind her to see Lilith and Anna emerging too with their own problems of either not filling out or over filling the dresses respectively, before looking around and at the tattoos visible on Jo’s sides. “For multiple reasons.”

Shada’s own face slowly shifted from a smile about how lovely Ombre and Bela had looked in the gowns to taking in the rest with a growing frown before nodding. “Yeah, I love the color though-”

“It’s definitely lovely!” Ombre chirped up from beside Shada with a wide smile, and Jo couldn’t help but feel glad that at least there were two of them on Shada’s side.

“But perhaps the design isn’t quite... accommodating enough?”

“We can expand the cups.” There was a sniffing sound as Meg moved forward to gesture towards the redhead’s chest with a sneer. “For those who need a little more coverage.”

Shada’s eyes darted about between the dresses and the designers frowning disapproval uncertainly, and as she blushed brightly, Jo could tell where this was going. She was such a people pleaser and so lovely a person, but that just meant sometimes she could be trampled too much. Not on Jo’s watch though.

“Oh, but you’d have to change the whole bodice of the dress to cover my tattoos though.” She quickly snapped out, tugging surreptitiously on the dress in the middle to show even more of her ink as she turned to the side, drawing everyone’s eyes over to her and away from Shada. Jo locked eyes with the designer fiercely, lips twitching to go into a smirk at the way the other woman’s own curled up into a sneer. “And then it’s jut a whole different dress. We might as well keep looking.”

“Exactly right, Jo. Thank you.” Shada spoke up then, stepping up to point and tap disapprovingly at the side of her dress as she looked back at the designer and then made a flapping, shoo-hand towards the rest of the bridesmaids. “Next dress, ladies!” As the group dispersed back to their own dressing rooms, the bride reached to hold Jo’s wrist with a smile. “Thank you,” She whispered quietly then, the intent and gratitude clearly pouring out that Jo could do little but smile back before shuffling back to the next dresses.

The fifth dresses resulted in a shouting match about just why was no one in the color purple and why would Shada want to look at silver dresses when none of those designs came in her chosen color; and the sixth was in another pale lavendar color but looked a little too sweet and girly on everyone except Ombre. Jo half thought that girl should be treated as a junior bridesmaid, given she wasn’t even nineteen yet, and could wear the flowy, laced halter dress to be different from the rest - but that idea brought tears to the other blonde at being treated differently and was quickly shut down. The brown bag of elephant ear cookies was quickly brought out and the younger woman calmed down with sugar before they moved onto the next dress. The seventh dress was widely agreed to be Nice But Wrong in a way that nobody could put a finger on and was after about five minutes of dissection to get to the bottom of it called off with a shout of “NEXT!” from the bride that sent them all scurrying away.

Jo had noticed between dresses that Chuck had been making the rounds talking to each of the other bridesmaids for a few minutes before they changed to discuss the wedding, Shada, their involvement and connection, and whatever else he seemed to want to draw out of these women thrown together by a job or through the groom in Ombre’s case. Jo was just glad to avoid talking today until she noticed him hovering by her dressing room as she emerged in the eighth dress.

“So, how is this compared to shopping for your own dress?” Chuck’s voice was quiet, thankfully, in the space as he held the dictaphone between them with a warm smile. “You said it was at an op shop, but did you have much to choose from?”

“Not really. There’s only so many white dresses about the place that aren’t stained, if you feel me.”

“That makes sense. Did you get that feeling though?” Jo found herself raising a brow at the question, which brought out a chuckle from the reporter. “Oh I know, odd for me to ask. But all the other ladies keep talking about some magical feeling or experience, figured you’d be the one to know the truth maybe.”

Jo laughed a little at that, shrugging a bare shoulder as she tilted her head to the side considering. “Hmmm... I don’t think I did. I just picked the dress that fit and looked the nicest.”

“If you were to get married again, what do you think you’d be after this time around? That magical feeling?”

She shook her head as she moved out towards the group, smiling sadly to herself as she glanced back over her shoulder at the man. “Sorry Chuck, I’m a bit too much of a realist these days about marriage and weddings,” Jo felt that prickle again and blinked rapidly for a moment before sighing gently. “Once you’ve experienced that young love feeling, you know that fades. Real love is about the real world, and facing that together. I don’t think you need a magical feeling - just to feel like you’re home and safe together.”

The reporter nodded repeatedly and Jo watched as he pulled out his notepad to make a few more notes as he moved off distractedly out of shot from the other cameras as Jo stepped up on the podium beside the other bridesmaids in this dress.

She had felt a little self concious of her hips and butt in the dress in the dressing room, but standing in line with the other women she couldn’t help but think they’d stumbled upon something that flattered each woman individually without drawing too much attention. Sure, she definitely looked curvy in the dress beside the others, but Anna and Ruby’s chests looked equally full, while Lilith and Ombre’s hair color and svelte figures looked statuesque and beautiful. And Bela just looked gorgeous in any and every dress she’d worn that she blended in with the rest just as lovely in the deep plum dress beside the rest of them.

“Oh. Oh these...” The bride’s eyes had lit up as soon as the six of them has assembled along beside one another, taking in the elegant drop sleeves and gentle curve of the silhouette that flattered each of them together. “I think, maybe...”

As each woman took turns to speak how much they liked the dress - with the sole exclusion of Anna who pouted repeatedly and played up to camera that it was too form fitting while clearly meaning the complete opposite as she continued to perk her chest up higher and twist to make her butt stick out more as she glanced between her own behind and Jo’s own - or at least appreciated the design for various reason, followed by the designer to talk incessantly about how lovely and flattering it was, Jo kept her eyes on Shada’s own wide, glossy ones.

“Well, we still have two more to try!” Ombre interjected when no one seemed to be making a move either way, and watching Shada shake herself out of her thoughts, Jo smiled that perhaps they’d found the one that would make the other happy already.

Stripping out of the dress, Jo let out a yelp at the sound of her curtain being pulled open before scowling in the small mirror in the room back towards the blonde and redhead that were in her doorway, delayed in changing from their interviews with the reporter.

“Excuse fucking you?” Jo snarled the words out, turning to sneer back at them as she lifted the dress back up from the floor to cover her front as she raised a brow at their own nasty looks. “Your rooms are further down.”

“Oh, are they?” Anna’s question sounded innocent, but the way her eyes raked over her disapprovingly made Jo question just how good an actress she thought the other actually was. “Our mistake. Hmm, Jo, what on earth happened to you?”

“What?”

“Those marks. You’re absolutely riddled in such horrible stretchmarks!”

“You’re right, Anna!” Lilith jumped right onto the line of picking as her own eyes ran across Jo’s skin in a way that made her want to throw punches - bra and panties be damned. “Were you a fat little kid? Or is that all from that little bastard you’ve whelped?”

Everything seemed to flash red in that moment, and if it hadn’t been the slight movement of something silver out the corner of her eye, Jo would have grabbed the other blonde by the hair and shut her up one way or another. Instead she glared hatefully at the recorder that stopped her from breaking the sneering bitch’s nose then and there and instead snarled back harshly. “Lilith, grow the fuck up.”

“What?”

“And you too Anna,” Jo hissed the words out, holding the dress tighter against herself as she tried not to let her rage boil over as she glared hatefully between the two of them. “I get you’re pissed that your boob job last year was fucking lopsided, and that you, Lilith, only got released last month for that little coke habit of yours - but I won’t have either of you talking shit about my son or trying to ruin this for Shada. So shut the fuck up, grow the fuck up, and don’t make me force the issue after we’re done here.”

There was a pause as the other two women exchanged a look, and Jo felt a small amount of pleasure as the redhead hiked up her dress on one side self-consciously in a way that Jo had felt before her mind got flooded with anger, before they turned about on their heels to go back to their change rooms. As she slid the curtain back in place she could hear them continue to whispering viciously about her ‘dumptruck ass’ and stretch marks, and one comment that as Jo turned back to the mirror, dropping the dress to the floor, stuck harder. ‘What makes her think she’s so special to be included here? Just cause she tricked Shada’s rich older brother into thinking she’s someone worth anything.’

Staring back into the mirror for a moment, Jo struggled to keep her face straight even to herself as she ran an eye over each of the imperfections they’d named as well as every other problem she saw in herself - each cut and mark and the less taunt skin around her stomach that had never gone back as tight as it used to be and the way her arms were too muscular from all the kneading and her hair was getting the odd silver strand amongst the blonde between running a business with such early hours, having a child and trying to restart her romantic life - before she spotted the dark bruising starting in the tops of her thighs and the curve of her breasts and the spots covered faintly still by make up on her neck. The proof that all those little bits, those little flaws and problem areas, and pieces that showed the history of her life in them, weren’t anything to be ashamed of.

Shaking her head, Jo quickly pulled on the next dress with a scowl of disgust at how washed out the color was compared to the deep jewel tone of the previous one, and the flacid ruffle along one side that made her want to tear it off. Some how this was almost as bad as the sparkly one.

When Jo got out onto the platform with the rest of the bridesmaids, she was not surprised to see both Anna and Lilith refusing to meet her eye before the redhead said loudly to the other, “Oh it’s such a shame some people look like old mothers rather than young bridesmaids.”

“It’s a shame some of us look like an episode of Botched,” Snapped Ruby with a smirk as she lifted her nails pretending to inspect them as a few of the other women frowned uncertainly. “But as I believe Jo said earlier, it’s about the bride right? So if someone’s tits are pointing in opposite directions then it’s probably very helpful for us all that we’re supposed to blend into the background, right?”

Jo bit down on a snort of laughter at that as she could spot a few of the crew trying to hold in their own noises. The fact there was no script today meant absolutely nothing to the ability for Gabe and his crew to get enough soundbites and drama for an episode. Glancing towards the reporter who was fiddling with his voice recorder, she could see the bemused look on his own face as well.

“Shada?” The uncertain question cut through the tension, and Ombre blinked sweetly a few times at her future sister-in-law before everyone turned back towards the dark haired bride. “What do you think?”

“Get rid of the tapeworm dresses, please, immediately!”

Jo found herself laughing hard at that description, and louder still when she shimmied the excess frill towards the bride and got a horrified squeal in return.

This time she wasn’t disturbed as she changed into the last dress. The sequined monstrosity that it was.

Shada didn’t even let half the women emerge from the change rooms before the call was made for everyone to put back on the deep purple mermaid dress with the off the shoulder cut. The one dress that made everyone look gorgeous and equally beautiful, though the way Jo could see the dark haired woman’s eyes cutting towards the redhead she could tell she wished it looked worse on her.

As they stood in line as they would on the day, Shada let out a loud and excited squeal - clapping her hands and bouncing happily on the sofa as she looked at the line of bridesmaids with joy. “We found it you guys!” The woman practically buzzed with excitement as they looked them all over and then got swamped by a giant hug from the youngest blonde who launched herself over for a hug. “We did it! Oh I have such pretty bridesmaids!”

“She using the right term? For you I mean.” Jo startled at the question from beside her as the other women milled about to try on accessories, looking out the corner of her eye at the reporter. His dictaphone was away at this point, as was his notepad, and Jo felt her cheeks heating up at the implication of the words before she got called away by Bela to try a necklace.

The rest of the day was a quick blur, and as soon as she was back in her normal clothes and wrapped up in the faint smell of aftershave, Jo felt much more comfortable as she got talked through how to do a brief interview for the show itself rather than the reporter, and then got to take Shada and Ombre for a late lunch at the sushi restaurant that the brunette never got to go to often any more. It was a relaxing time, with all three talking happily and confirming that Shada had chosen a beautiful dress that would compliment her own wedding dress when it was finally chosen too.

After lunch, Jo stopped by the bakery but was shooed straight out by Sam with the end of his broomstick and a lot of laughter. Instead of heading home, she swung past the college instead to check on Jack. That led to her sitting in on his last two lectures, staring moonily at him as she watched the passion with which he talked about his work and whipped his classes up into a frenzy of enthusiasm and appreciation for whatever topic he talked about. Then it was dinner, a movie on the couch and kisses in bed before sleep caught up with her.

The next day was equally calm in the morning, with the opening of the bakery as standard and her morning breezing by as if it was any regular day. It felt kind of strange to be back to her regular routine without her reporter shadow or anything out of the ordinary planned like shopping or photo shoots. It was quiet even as she bopped around to her tunes and worked on her usual catalogue of treats and baked goods. It felt good to be back to normal.

That changed as the clock hit one, and Jack arrived alongside his sister and Shada’s fiance Ian. Just after Jo had served up lunch of pithiviers, the door swung open to let in Chuck as well as Ash for their own lunches and bringing in a tray of coffees for the others. Jack’s attitude dipped slightly at the reporter’s arrival, but as the questions bounced about simply interviewing Ian and Shada about their feelings about Jo’s baking and why they had chosen to have Jo make their cake, he calmed some and slowly relaxed next to her as Jo rubbed her thigh against his under the bench.

As soon as lunch was finished, Jo fetched out the four different cake styles as well as the base crumb coated tiers to make a three tier mock-up of the cake itself based upon whichever design the couple chose.

It was a quick blur discussing what elements they each liked of all the cakes, and what they didn’t, but the silver dictaphone was out and Jo found herself talking more professionally than she usually would between friends but taking the time to really discuss at length the different elements. That Ian really liked the demonstrated fondant flowers but they both would be so intruiged to see some pulled sugar demonstrations as well. That Shada loved the understated, modern elegance of the airbrushed cake. That neither liked the ruffle effect of the ombre cake, even though Ian softened at hearing the name of the style and both thought it was a sweet connection to Ian’s sister but not quite their style. That they trusted Jack’s opinion on every single element.

As they finally settled on wanting to see a three tiered airbrushed cake, Jo set the fondant rolling for each cake and after wrapping and stacking the bottom two tiers - she held her airbrush out to the dark haired artist with a smile.

“You want to do the first spray?” She asked with a smile as she started wrapping the last of the cakes. “Or do you have any suggestions for the patterning?”

“Jo, I’d never suggest I could paint a cake near as good as you could.” Jack’s smile was blinding as he turned back to her as she started putting the last tier to the top with a steadying hand from him to help her when it was above her head. There was a pause before a sudden gust of air and edible dye splattered onto her cheek as Jack sprayed at her lightly on accident with a laugh. “See? I’m all thumbs!”

“That you are!” Giggling herself, she set about starting to do the same mottled effect of blacks, greys, golds and definite purples across the side of the cake - spinning it carefully left and right on the cake stand so she could create a gentle gradation that worked on both sides of the cake at once. So that no matter where you stood, you could see a gentle flow of color spreading along the while surface and swirling together. “Whatcha think, hun?”

There was a pause before Jo felt the other’s hand wrap around her fingers and lift the gun to point at one last spot. “A tiny bit there, and I think it’s good.” Jack’s lips were brushing against the shell of her ear as he talked, and she almost forgot hot to breathe when his finger pressed down on top of hers to pull the trigger for a moment before releasing again as the final, perfect brush stroke finished off the cake. The noise of the whole room had dropped away as she took a minute step back into his arms, her back to his chest and his other hand spreading across her waist, before a loud squeal broke the spell wrapped around her like her love’s arms.

“Oh my gosh, Jo! It’s absolutely perfect!”

The happy exclamation from the dark haired girl felt so good after the week of worry and stress trying to perfect the design and flavors and options for the other, and as Jo turned to look across the bench top from between the beautiful mocked up cake and the warmth of her lover’s embrace, she found herself grinning widely to see the same amount of love and excitement that she felt on the young couple’s faces as they looked between her cake and each other. Tilting her head back to catch Jack’s eye, she couldn’t help but think Shada had it utterly right.

Letting out a laugh, Jo smiled back and after a loud cough from the reporter, quickly moved to pose with both the bride and groom and the cake alone, before Chuck announced he had more than enough content for his cake article.

“I’ll see you all in a few weeks for - what was it, florals and bridal showers?” Chuck looked equally as confused as the other men in the room, shrugging his messenger bag with all his gadgets up onto his shoulder. “This article should be out by then, I think, depending on what date exactly you’re doing those parts Shada.”

“Not until after, I don’t think.” The brunette smiled gently from her perch on one of the stools, holding hands with her fiance and barely glancing away from him even as Ian was answering some email on his phone. “I loved the first article!”

“Oh yeah, that one was good.” The reporter nodded a few times, and shook hands with the distracted groom before extending a hand towards Jack as well. It took a second before the men shook hands, and Jo quickly jumped to her feet as Chuck went to leave.

“Wait! Take one of these with you, won’t you? I’ve got more cake than I’ll need for ages!” Jo flapped a hand and quickly fetched out a large cake box to slide the cake covered in the edible flowers into it for him. The ombre ruffled cake was boxed up already to be dropped off by Ian to his sister as a surprise, and Jo knew she’d use the other two as cake specials for the rest of the weekend. “I hope you like lemon.”

“You better believe it.” He looked surprised and a little uncertain to be receiving the full cake, and Jo was confused by the almost guilty look that crossed his face as Chuck took it from her with a sigh. There was a pause before he smiled again and waved goodbye with his free hand and headed back out to the main part of the bakery.

Frowning to herself, Jo moved back over to the three tier cake and grabbed a knife, holding it out to Shada and Ian. Looking between them and her own love, the blonde grinned with a wicked smile before asking cheekily, “You two need to get some practice in before the big night?”

---

#jopov #au stories #bakery AU

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imagine-avengers · 4 years

Text

Bakery Part One- Bucky Barnes Series

1/5 All other parts can be found on my masterlist once they come out!

Right in the heart of Brooklyn sat a small little café called The Pastry Corner. It was owned and operated by Melody Rogers and frequented by her brother, Steve Rogers. The café was small, not able to sit more than twenty people. The exterior was a pastel sea-foam that was painted over the old stoned making it pop out from the other businesses in the area. The inside had worn white brick everywhere besides where the photo wall was, which was where Steve Rogers and his friends sold their art. Walking inside you smell the pastries, bread, and coffee, a sense of comfort washes over you whilst you take in the rustic interior along with the array of plants, which were Wanda’s doing.

The café was unique in the sense that you didn’t get to order a specific drink, the barista, Natasha, was a wizard at reading what people would like and there was never a complaint with their order. Then there was Wanda, the cashier who’s friendly smile kept customers coming back for more. But the real reason people came back, was for the pastries and baked goods that Melody made fresh daily, from breads to cakes, Melody made them all with the help of her friend Maria, whom also made breakfast, lunch sandwiches, which were a big hit. The bakery was open everyday of the week, except for one, Sunday, which the group all spent with their families, occasionally Melody would go in and prepare the bread for the Monday.

The day started as usual, Melody had gotten to the café at four in the morning and began her routine of baking. Around six, Maria showed up to help, and six thirty came Natasha whom prepared the coffee and finally Wanda at six forty-five when she began opening everything for seven. At seven on the dot they were open and had their normal regulars whom came in before work or class to grab a pastry and coffee for breakfast. Then the eight-am rush came of everyone going to work for nine, after the rush it would slow down until around ten which is when everyone began trickling in for lunch before the lunch rush at twelve. After the lunch rush was over and the last of the pastries were in their displays and Maria was cleaning the kitchen, Melody would head behind the counter, her apron full of flour, her hair in a messy bun with more flour, but a smile adored her face as she helped serve customers their pastries all while Natasha was preparing coffee orders.

“Your croissants are really the best in Brooklyn.” A regular, Anna, stated as Melody bagged the pastry.

“Well we try our best. Have a good day.” Anna left as Melody glanced towards the clock. One thirty, Steve, Sam, and Bucky would soon be coming in with some new art pieces they had made so Melody moved behind the counter and began bagging pastries for the trio, all of their favorites before asking Maria to make the three their lunch. Just as Melody went to ask Natasha to make coffee, the trip came in.

“Hey Mel.” Steve greeted his sister as the three came in, all covered in paint and carrying different canvas’ and photos.

“Hey guys.” Melody responded cheerily as Natasha began their coffee before Melody began making Steve’s dragon-fruit lemonade.

“I see the three of you were busy today.” Natasha spoke as she set Sam and Bucky’s coffee’s on the counter.

“Always are Nat, can’t seem to keep these paintings on the wall.” Sam spoke to his longtime friend as he was hanging the slightly wet canvas on the wall.

“Mhmm sure Sam.” Natasha responded just as Steve finished hanging his own paintings and moved towards her and kissed his girlfriend of five years, Sam doing the same with Wanda. The three grabbed their drinks and lunches before falling into a spot by the window, the girls continuing to work, each one getting a break.

“Pietro is bringing the new books in today right?” Melody asked as she was helping a customer.

“Yeah he should be here around three.” Wanda responded whilst she rung up a customer.

“Fantastic. I’m gonna head upstairs and grab some of the old ones that I stole.” Wanda’s brother owned a local bookstore and the two owners would often trade coffee and pastries for books for the patrons to read.

As Melody walked past the art wall towards the stairs which led to her office, she stopped and stared at a photo, one that Bucky had taken. The photo itself was simple, but Melody recognized it immediately, it was a black and white of a woman sitting in a window with a cup of coffee, Melody recognized it because it was her in her apartment. Melody hadn’t been seeing James ‘Bucky’ Barnes for long, six months at most, and she hadn’t expected him to take a photo of her doing something so mundane. The time that Melody and Bucky had known each other he only took photos of places, animals, and inanimate objects, never a person. Melody stopped staring at the photo and looked towards Bucky, who’s eyes were already on her. Tilting her head towards the photo with a smile, Bucky grinned but looked away as Steve spoke knowing that if Steve knew he was dating his sister, he’d flip.

“Pietro.” Melody greeted the blonde a few hours later. “Thank you for the books, they were lovely.” Melody handed off the small box as Pietro finished setting up the new books on their display by the photo wall.

“I’m glad you enjoyed them. Now tell me about this photo.” Melody looked up and knew which photo he was referring to.

“Uh no comment.” She shrugged.

“Melody, you and I both know that that’s you and James Barnes doesn’t take photos of woman.” Melody rolled her eyes.

“Mel someone’s asking for you!” Wanda called causing Melody to give Pietro a small smile.

“That’s my cue.” Walking to the counter Melody was met with an older woman whom looked less than pleased. “Hi, I’m Melody, what can I do for you?”

“I said I wanted to speak with the owner.” The woman stated snidely.

“Yes ma’am, I understand that,” The woman cut Melody off as she spoke.

“If you understand than why isn’t the owner in front of me?”

“Ma’am, I am the owner. Now what seems to be the problem?” Melody was slowly losing her patience, Steve and taken Nat out to get something different for lunch and Sam had left to the studio to finish a piece, leaving only Bucky with Melody and Wanda, Maria having left twenty minutes prior.

“My problem is that I asked for an earl grey tea and this is green tea.” The woman held her cup up.

“I’m so sorry, I’d be happy to make you a new,”

“She doesn’t want a new cup.” A man whom Melody assumed was her husband came up next to her. “We want a refund and a dessert.” Melody stared at them.

“I can give you a refund or remake your tea but I can’t give you a free dessert.” Melody spoke evenly as she glanced to the side where Bucky had been taking photo’s out the window, but was now staring at her, waiting to step in.

“That’s insane! We want compensation and a free dessert!” The man argued as Melody held her hand up towards him trying to calm him as other patrons began to stare, the same time she did, Bucky showed up next to the man.

“There a problem here?” Melody looked towards him.

“Yes, this bitch is trying to say she’s the owner and refuses to give us what we want.” The man spoke looking to Bucky whom rose an eyebrow.

“Firstly, she is the owner. Secondly, she’s not a bitch, she’s a human being doing her job. Now she offered to remake your wife’s tea and even give it to her for free, which she doesn’t have to do. But what she really isn’t doing is giving you a pastry for free. Wanda give them the amount for the tea.” Wanda handed the money to Bucky who shoved it into the mans hand. “Now get out.” The man stared at Bucky but he and his wife left as Melody gave him a smile.

“Thank you.” Bucky nodded before grabbing his things and moving to the counter where he sat until five when the two girls began closing for the night, Melody already having gotten the doughs started for the following day. “Go home Wanda.” Melody spoke as she began cleaning the counters. “I can finish here.”

“Are you sure?” Wanda asked but she was already pulling on her coat.

“Yes, Bucky’ll help me lock up. Go before Sam call’s and complains that I’m hogging you.” Wanda smiled at the two and bid them goodnight before disappearing out the door. “Can you grab those mugs?” Melody asked pointing towards the mugs that sat on the tables by the door.

“Of course.” Bucky moved and grabbed both mugs before going and depositing them in the kitchen to be cleaned the following morning. “You gotta get some more help in here babe.” Bucky stated as he noticed the disarray of the kitchen. “The four of you are going to go insane.”

“We already are my love.” Melody spoke as she entered the kitchen. “I hired two new people last week, they start tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ll be spending less time here and have more time for me?” Bucky teased wrapping his arms around his girlfriends waist.

“I wish, unfortunately not, I can’t leave someone else to make the pastries. But Tony and Pepper recommended the kids, they were interns for him, said MJ always made the best coffee so she’s gonna learn from Nat and Peter is gonna work the counter with Wanda and dishes when needed.”

“What about you and Maria, you need the help and you’re financially stable that you can afford someone.” Bucky spoke as Melody moved out of his arms and started the dishes.

“I dunno James.” She spoke softly. “I like baking, hell I love it, this place is my baby, I can’t just let anyone into the kitchen.”

“Baby, what about Nebula, you said she was a wizard in the kitchen, even if she comes in for the afternoons, give you a break.” Melody thought about it a moment before looking back at her boyfriend.

“I’ll consider calling her if you tell me when you took that picture.” Bucky smirked.

“The night you agreed to go out with me, you didn’t want to do anything fancy so we ate pastries and Maria’s sandwiches in your apartment, you had just made a coffee and looked peaceful.”

“Don’t you think Steve is gonna say something?” Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, can’t see your face, he’ll probably think it’s some girl I slept with before.”

“James.” Melody groaned and turned towards him. “He’s going to notice because you never photograph people like how Sam only paints birds and scenery whilst Steve only draws people and animals. They’ll notice that mister still life and scenery has a photograph of a girl, much less a pretty girl whom looks exactly like me.” Bucky just shook his head.

“We will cross that bridge when it comes, okay? And it isn’t for sale, it’s actually for you, figured we’d leave it up a couple days and then you could take it home. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up so I can take my girlfriend out to dinner.” Just as Bucky spoke the bell in front went off.

“Girlfriend?” Natasha spoke as Melody turned to her.

“Nat.”

“I forgot my wallet earlier, but this is so worth having to come back.” Nat stated, her wallet in her hand.

“Nat.” Melody moved towards her brothers girlfriend. “You can’t tell Steve,”

“Steve would flip.” Natasha stated. “He would kill you Buck.” Bucky shifted on his feet.

“I know that, why do you think we kept it to ourselves? We both know that Steve already stated that Melody was off limits,”

“Wait he what?” Melody asked.

“Uh oh.” Natasha spoke.

“He sorta said we weren’t allowed to date you.” Bucky stated as Melody nodded tossing Bucky the keys.

“Lock up, I’m going to have a few choice words with my brother. He at home?” Natasha nodded and Elizabeth ripped her apron off before storming out. Melody stormed the two blocks towards her brothers apartment and pushed the door open not knocking, causing him to jump from his spot on the couch with Sam, the two watching TV.

“Mel?”

“How dare you! How dare you tell your friends that I was off limits! Who the hell do you think you are? Did I tell Natasha you were off limits? No! How dare you try to get involved in my love life! I will date whoever the hell I want and if that includes your friends, then fine!” Melody stated as Steve stood there staring at her before she turned to leave, stopping at the door. “By the way, I’m dating Bucky, might be fucking him too but that’s not your business.” Melody slammed the door and made her way back to the bakery but Bucky stood outside Steve’s building.

“What did you do?” He asked leaning against the side of his motorcycle, arms crossed.

“I’m sick of him trying to control my life Buck.” She mumbled moving over to where he was standing. Bucky dropped his arms as Melody wrapped hers around him, him doing the same.

“You brother is going to kill me, you know that, right?” Bucky asked softly as Melody shook her head.

“He won’t do shit James.” She spoke to him. “You locked up, right?” She asked pulling out of his arms.

“I did.” Bucky slipped the keys into the pocket of Melody’s jeans. “Come on, I’ll drop you off at home.” Bucky grabbed the helmet from his bike and handed it to her.

“I thought we were gonna get dinner?” She asked softly, putting the helmet on her head.

“No, best not to, Steve’s gonna end up showing up at my apartment in about a half hour.” He spoke as Melody nodded slightly. “But I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fine.” She spoke. Bucky climbing on the bike, she climbing on behind him. Bucky dropped her off, the two standing at his bike kissing for a minute before Melody began backing towards her apartment. “You sure you won’t come in?”

“No, I should be going. Looking forward to that confrontation with your brother.” Melody nodded.

“Fine. Call me afterwards, okay?” Melody entered her own apartment and made herself a small dinner. Melody spent the rest of the night inside her apartment, no word from Bucky at all.

The next morning came faster than Melody would have liked. Waking up to her phone going off at three in the morning after falling asleep on the couch sucked. Melody groaned and turned her phone off before heading to shower and get ready for work. Arriving at the bakery, Melody opened up the back and began her daily routine of baking. Noon came around, and someone asked about a particular photo on the wall, it was of the New York city streets.

“I’ll have to call the artist, give me about five minutes.” She spoke at the counter before moving to the back and pulling out her phone, ringing Bucky. The phone rang and rang, eventually Melody left him a message explaining someone wanted to talk about a photo before she went back to the customer. “Unfortunately the artist didn’t pick up, but if you leave your contact information I can have them call you.” The customer did that and Melody slid it inside the cash register drawer.

“You okay?” Natasha asked around four, when Melody was staring at her phone.

“Huh?” Melody looked up at her. “Oh, it’s just,” Sighing Melody ran a hand through her hair. “Bucky was supposed to call me last night and he never did, he’s still not answering me.” She spoke softly.

“Steve stopped by there not long after you left his apartment.” Spoke Natasha as she made a peppermint coffee. “He got back around eleven, that’s probably why Bucky didn’t call, he knows you go to sleep early to be here.” Melody nodded slightly.

“I guess. I’m going to go clean up in the kitchen.” Heading back, Melody did just that. At five thirty, Natasha and Wanda both left and Melody continued cleaning before heading out at a quarter to seven, stepping outside she found Bucky leaning against his bike. “Hi.” She said softly before locking up and turning back to him.

“Hey.” Bucky didn’t meet her eyes for a moment.

“Uh, did you get my messages?” She asked, fiddling with the keys in her hand.

“I uh, yeah.” Bucky nodded looking up at her and stood from leaning against his bike, Melody stepped closer to him. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” Melody stopped moving and stared at him.

“What? But, everything was fine yesterday.” Her voice dropped. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened Melody.” Bucky shoved his hands in his pocket. “I don’t want to lead you on, I don’t see this going anywhere.” Melody nodded.

“Steve got to you.” She stated.

“This has nothing to do with Steve,”

“It has everything to do with him James!” She raised her voice. “We were fine until he talked to you. After that you stopped answering my calls and my texts.” Her voice dropped as it broke.

“I stopped answering because I don’t want to lead you on Melody. We’re done.” Melody nodded, tears falling down her face.

“Fine. Fine.” She mumbled.

“I’ll have Steve get my photos,”

“Don’t bother.” She spoke. “Leave them, Nat will deal with the transactions from now on, happy? You won’t have to deal with me at all.” She moved past him and headed to where her car sat.

“Don’t be like that Mel,” Melody turned around and glared at him.

“Be like what? Cold? I think you deserve for me to be like this James.” Melody shook her head. “You say you didn’t want to lead me on, but what have you been doing for almost six months?” She asked. “Tell Steve you were a good little boy.” She hissed turning back to where she was parked. Melody sat in her car a moment before starting it and driving home.

This is part of a five part series. Thank you all for reading!

Until next time my lovelies!

#bucky barnes imagine #artist bucky x baker oc #james barnes imagine #avenger imagine

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crimsonblackrose · 4 years

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Because I had seen cherry blossoms at the park I decided to start my first day in Okinawa at Taste of Okinawa learning how to cook a couple of local specialties. It was a bit late for me to book tickets on most websites as they want you to book them further in advance then the night before. But on the Taste of Okinawa website I was able to book it the night before. I don’t suggest doing that unless you have to because who knows how busy they might be. It’s always best to book in advance.

Classes are available Tuesdays through Sunday. There are no classes on Mondays. There is a morning class and an afternoon class. The morning classes start at 10:30 am and end around 1:30pm. Afternoon classes start at 3:30pm and end around 6:30pm. Though they do suggest to be there 5 minutes early. The price is 6,500 yen per adult. (Cheaper for kids) and with a max space for 20 people.

Tuesdays through Saturday’s the morning set is:

Goya Champuru- a bitter melon stir fry

Miso Rafute – a sweet miso glazed pork belly

A-sa-jiru – seaweed and tofu soup

Sata-Anda-Gi – brown sugar donuts

Tuesdays through Sundays (and both morning and afternoon on Sundays) the set is:

Okinawa Soba – homemade noodles in a pork broth

Jyu-shi – almost like a fried rice with pork and veggies

Mozuku-su – a sweet vinegary local seaweed

Sata-Anda-Gi – brown sugar donuts

To book the class online you need to fill out the form on their website. If you have 10 or more in your party they request you make an inquiry first. Go here to make a reservation if you’re interested in taking their Cooking Experience class. It is in English.

I paid and thankfully it went through. I was nervous because I’d booked a tour before leaving for Okinawa and had to call my bank which is always nerve wracking since I don’t have an American phone number and that tends to freak them.

The class starts at the Taste of Okinawa shop. It’s located within the market. Because the market is big with many little streets crowded with souvenir shops and restaurants I highly suggest leaving early. It was suppose to be only a ten minute walk from my hotel and yet still, somehow, I was late.

After everyone drops off their things (though always take anything valuable with you) we headed out into the market. Because I was visiting during my Seollal vacation (Lunar New Year) it was also Lunar New Year in Okinawa so the market they usually use was closed. But we still got a market tour. I love going through market tours with a cook who knows how to pick the best of each ingredient and point out other special things in the area you might not know. Like the peanut tofu. We also got to try fresh fish cake and see what the fish looks like before it becomes a bonito flake.

I really enjoyed the tour.

bonito before it becomes a flake

fish cake

fresh produce including some bitter melon

umibudo

I had booked the morning tour for Goya Champuru because I had had the Okinawa soba the night before. I had really wanted to work with and try goya or bitter melon because as a teacher when I taught cooking and the senses of taste, bitter always brought up bitter melon. But neither my students nor I really knew what bitter melon was. Now I know. And I know how to use it in cooking. For a lot of our cooking we broke up into teams and cooked together. So it was different from when I cooked in Thailand. But it would have been way too much food if we’d had cooked it all individually.

I think every class probably goes differently as well depending on the class and teacher dynamic. We made the Sata-Anda-gi even though online it says you buy them in the market. Our teacher also bought us other small things to try like Umibudo and the peanut tofu (Jiimamii Dofu) which was really nice to try without having to find it somewhere else.

I had a lot of fun with everyone and I was glad I wasn’t the only solo traveler in the class.

bitter melon aka goya cut in half

remove the middle and slice. Thinner is better and add some salt

If cooking isn’t really your thing, or you don’t have time, Taste of Okinawa is also a craft beer restaurant and bar. They’re open Tuesdays through Sundays from 5pm until 11pm. From 5pm until 7pm they have beer and light foods, after 7pm they have a full food menu to go with the beer. They have five local beers on tap and usually ten other local/ Japanese beers by the bottle. Their food is all locally inspired and is meant to compliment the beer. Their tables, which we used while cooking are big communal tables which they say goes with an Okinawan saying “ichariba choudei” which means “we have met, and now we are family.” I’m not sure if they have a staple menu or if you’re in for a surprise every time you go to eat, but the staff was very friendly while we were cooking and I loved the atmosphere. If you like or love beer or just want to get to meet other people who are in Okinawa I think doing either the cooking experience or going to the restaurant after the cooking experiences are over would be well worth it.

Goya Champuru, Miso Rafute, and A-sa-jiru with rice

the peanut tofu and umibudo

Sata-Anda-Gi

If you want to make a reservation for the bar you can call +81-98-943-6313

Taste of Okinawa テイストオブオキナワ Because I had seen cherry blossoms at the park I decided to start my first day in Okinawa at Taste of Okinawa learning how to cook a couple of local specialties.

#cooking classes #japan #naha #okinawa #places to eat in naha #taste of okinawa #things to do in okinawa #travel

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alindakb · 4 years

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Letters to my Parents - Monday 29 August 1994 - by Alinda

Monday 29 August 1994

Dear mom and dad,

I think I had the best birthday ever this year. Draco arrived on the morning of my birthday, kissing me awake. It was good to have him in my arms again, to have him close. I hate it when he’s not with me. Draco said he had the worst month of his life, trying to avoid his father as much as he could and missing me like crazy. And then he went off to go make me breakfast while I showered and got dressed.

When I got downstairs Draco just finished our breakfast. I think Sirius was impressed that Draco knows how to cook and I could see he was trying really hard to be civil with Draco. Draco is really polite towards Sirius and all that crazy pure blood etiquette is showing when he’s around Sirius. I don’t think it really helps, that it just pisses off Sirius even more. But I love how Draco tries to impress my Godfather and proof he’s a decent person.

Oh, I need to tell you about the awkward conversation I had with Sirius the day before my birthday. He said that he had a talk with Moony and that realised that it was pointless to try to keep me and Draco apart at night, that if even Snivellus can’t make it happen it would be hopeless. It took me a couple of seconds to understand Sirius mend Professor Snape with that. I wanted to say something about that but didn’t get the chance and the topic Sirius started was so horrifying it slipped my mind for some time.

Sirius gave me the sex talk. It was awkward, he stumbled over his words and I just wanted the ground below me to open up and swallow me whole. He said you would have given me the talk too if you were still alive dad, and Sirius wanted to make sure I was safe and protected. He asked me if Draco and I had already done anything more than kiss and I didn’t know what to say. He took my silence as a yes and said he knows forbidding me to do anything while Draco is here is useless, that he was young once too. So instead he thought me how to cast a strong silencing charm and gave me a book that explains spells that can help when penetrating each other.

I tried to shut him up by saying hadn’t done that and I think Sirius was relieved to hear that. He went on that Draco and I are still very young and that I shouldn’t do anything I don’t want to. I promised I wouldn’t and then fled the room. Draco has looked into the book and says it’s interesting, says I should read it for when we want to take that step, so I also know what to expect. I don’t know if I want that, but on the other hand, the idea of being that close and intimate with Draco makes me feel all fussy inside.

But back to my birthday. We had breakfast and then Draco and I just hanged out in the garden. The family Tonks and Professor Lupin, who keeps insisting I call him Remus or Moony, joined us. Mrs Tonks had baked a cake for my party and prepared all these crazy dishes for lunch. It was nice to see Sirius light up with Remus around.

Around four all my friends arrived. It was nice to have Hermione, Blaise, Greg, Daphne and Luna come over to my home during the summer. We had a lot of fun. Mrs Tonks had put 14 candles on my cake, which was delicious. We hung out in the garden and everyone told me about their own summer adventures. Blaise had been to some tropical island, Greg and Daphne had met up several times during break and Hermione explained how she helped out her parents with their work. Luna was fascinated by the way muggles take care of their teeth.

Sirius had ordered pizza’s for dinner and made a bonfire in the garden when it became dark and chilly. I have no idea till how late we all stayed outside and talked, but it was amazing to celebrate my birthday this way.

A couple of nights after my birthday I had this crazy dream. I woke up with my hand pressed over my face and a worried Draco next to me. My scar hurt like it was burning and I was glad that Draco was here to hold me and tell me it was all just a dream. I told him I’d seen a snake and had heard Wormtail talk to Voldemort. I couldn’t see Voldemort and when the chair he was sitting on got turned around I woke up from the horror of it. And there had been an old man who got killed and Voldemort spoke of a person they had killed and the person they were plotting to kill, that last one being me.

But the dream was not the thing that scared me. I was scared because my scar hurt. The only other time it had was when Voldemort was close. Draco checked by looking out the window, but he assured me there was no sign of the Dark Lord or any of his followers outside. The little park in front of the house was deserted this late at night. Draco got back into bed and pulled me down with him and hold me until I finally fell back asleep.

The next morning we talked to Sirius about my scar hurting and he was not pleased. He said that I should not worry, that he was just overreacting, but he left that afternoon to talk to Dumbledore about it. He also talked about signs, and that we should all be careful. He gave Draco a look before he left. I hate it when he does that, look at Draco like he’s the enemy. Draco hates it too, he tries so hard to get on Sirius’ good side but nothing seems to convince him that Draco is not a bad person.

This Tuesday we went over to the family Tonks so we could take a very early Port-key to the Quidditch World Cup. Sirius had gotten tickets from the Ministry for his wrongful imprisonment. We were all very excited to go. We had six tickets and we went together with Draco, Tonks, Remus and Mr Tonks. Mrs Tonks made us an amazing dinner the night before and promised to wake us all up in time. It felt like she woke us up way too early. Draco was even cranky, and he’s the morning person of both of us. I was just glad she didn’t say anything about the fact that Draco hadn’t slept in the bed she made for him but instead had again crawled into mine.

We had to get up so early to take the Port-key. It was just for me and Draco, all the others could apparate but they said it would be more fun if we would all go together as a group. Tonks regretted that decision in the morning, complained that it was too early, that her head hadn’t recovered yet and Remus jokes she should have drunk less. It sounded like he, Sirius and Tonks had a little party last night when we were already in bed.

On our walk, Sirius and Remus told us all about how good you were at Quidditch, dad. They talked about the boring training they would watch, while Remus and Peter would do homework and Sirius would just try to distract Moony. Tonks piped in on how she loved flying against Charlie when she was on the team during her time at Hogwarts. And then I told them how good Draco is as a chaser and that he was voted our new team captain. Everyone congratulated him, even Sirius, who said it was a great responsibility and that he should remember not to favour any players above others (meaning me). Draco promised he would try to and that he was really excited about it.

We didn’t take the Port-key with just us six. When we got at the location Cedric Diggory and his father were already there. Draco and I both agree that Cedric is extremely handsome. He’s about seventeen and is the captain and seeker of the Hufflepuff team. His father got all excited when he noticed that I was along everyone. He looked at my scar and it made me a little uncomfortable. Draco squeezed my hand and it made me feel a little better. Until Cedric’s father looked at our locked hands like we were contagious. Cedric noticed and mouthed a sorry towards us.

When it was time we all gathered around the Port-key and Mr Tonks counted down from three and then it happened. It felt like a hook just behind my navel had suddenly jerked me irresistibly forward. My feet left the ground but I could still feel Draco’s hand in mine and I knew it was okay. We were speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colours until my feet slammed onto the ground and we were at our destination. Both Draco and I fell over and Tonks laughed at us. We had arrived at a misty moor and were told by the ministry officials (who were very jealous about Tonks not being on duty for the Quidditch World Cup) which campsite we had to go to. Cedric and his father were on a different campsite, so we parted ways with them and set off to our own campsite.

The landlord of our campsite was a muggle and was really confused about all the crazy people that had pre-booked and looked like crazy people that kept showing up. Mr Tonks had a nice chat with him. Being Muggle-born, he was able to settle the man a little and he showed us on a little map where our site was. The entire field was filled with tents, some of them looked muggle, but a lot of them didn’t. Our spot was at the edge of the wood at the end of the field. With the guidance of Mr Tonks, we set up two small tents. One for Tonks and her father, and one for Sirius, Remus, Draco and I. The tent looked very small from the outside, but once you would get in it was pretty large. It had two bedrooms, both with bunk beds. Sirius told us we could have one just for the two of us, as long as we promised to keep our hands to ourselves.

Once the tents were done, Draco and I went out to get some water from the tap. It was amazing to see the many wizards and witches around us. I never really thought about how many there were in Britain, let alone in the entire world. And there were little kids with magic, playing with their parents' wands and flying small broomsticks. Draco saw me gaping at them and he told me he still has his somewhere at the manor if I wanted to go give it a try. I pushed him a little away from me and we both laughed before our hands linked again. I felt really good that day, just hanging with Draco at a campsite filled with people from all over the world that were just as magical as me.

The only downside was that sometimes people would look at us, see how close we were and that we were holding hands, and then would say nasty things. Sirius had warned me that not all wizards and witches are okay with people being bent, and I know that there are kids at school who also think its wrong, but it still hurts a little when they show their hatred of people like us.

One small spot of the campsite was covered in shamrocks and was filled with Irish people. Seamus Finnigan and his best friend Dean Thomas among them. We had a little chat with them, Seamus was sure that Ireland was going to win, no matter what. We agreed and then moved on so we could talk about Victor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. He looks a bit grumpy most of the time, but he’s an amazing flier. And he’s only eighteen years old. He’s been in Quidditch Weekly a couple of times and his skills are impressive. I wish I could fly like that. (Draco says I should tell you that he thinks I fly even better than Krum)

We also ran into Terence Higgs, who introduced us to his parents and told us that he had dropped out of his potions masters studies because he got signed by the Puddlemere United reserve team. I told him Draco was made captain of the team now that Marcus had graduated and Terence said the right man got that job. A little further we saw Adrian and Miles who waved at us while they cooked breakfast for their families.

Ron Weasley was also at the campsite, together with his brothers, his little sister, his father and Neville Longbottom. Fred and George greeted us with big smiles on their faces and Ginny was all shy around me. Ron said that she worshipped me still, even though it was clear I would never love her back. But more interesting were the older brothers, Bill and Charlie. Bill is a curse breaker with long hair and earrings and Charlie works with Dragons in Roumania. He’s got tattoos and burn marks all over his body. I think Ron didn’t like that we had more attention for his brothers than for him.

When we got back to the tents everyone had settled around a nice fire and we eat some amazing sandwiches that Mrs Tonks had prepared for us. Sirius and Tonks were having a loud discussion about who would win the match and Draco and I sneaked off to the woods behind the tents to have a nice little snug fest. Before we got back to the tent again we bought some omnioculars, very fancy magical binoculars that can replay, slow down and have flash up play-by-play breakdown.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. We made our way to the stadium and up to the top box all the way at top of the stairs. The top box was at the highest point of the stadium situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. Sirius made sure we got to sit on the front row seats. In the beginning, it was just us at the top together with a house-elf, but soon more people made it to the top box, including the Minister, Cornelius Fudge who greeted me like I was an old friend of his. He introduced me to the Bulgarian minister and introduced himself to Draco, but ignored Sirius, Tonks and Remus the best he could. Remus later said that the minister didn’t want to been seen with a werewolf, a metamorphmagus and a reminder of his failure when it comes to Sirius.

Not long after that, Draco’s father and mother arrived. They took places just behind me and Draco. Draco hugged his mother shortly and said a formal hello to his father. I also greeted them, in the hope that one day they would consider me worthy enough for their son. At that moment I understood why Draco was trying so hard when it came to Sirius. I know Draco kind of hates his father at the moment, but he’s still his father and I want him to like me. Not that Sirius was any help with that. He and Lucius greeted each other with a look of dismay. Draco’s mother made a little more effort and said it was nice to see Sirius again. She did the same with Mr Tonks and she introduced herself to Tonks, saying it was good to finally meet her. Tonks just nodded and turned back around in her seat, not interested in her aunt at all. She later told Draco she’s glad he’s not as narrow-minded as his parents. I know Draco struggled with this, he really loves his mother and I agree with him, she’s lovely. She really helped me last year when I had run away from the Dursleys.

The game then began with the Bulgarian mascots, Veela’s. It was crazy to see how they impacted all the man around us, except for me, Draco and Sirius. Sometimes it’s nice to be bent and not interested in women. We could hear Draco’s mother whisper to his father to get a grip and Mr Tonks was on the front of his seat to get a better look. Tonks pulled him back to make sure he wouldn’t fall out of the box. Next were the Leprechauns, the Irish mascots. They made it rain gold, but Sirius warned us that the gold would disappear so that it was no use trying to catch it.

And then both teams were introduced and the game was happening right in front of us. It was an amazing game. The speed of the players was incredible and I missed the first goal because I slowed my omnioculars down and was watching in slow motion. The Irish chasers were superb, they worked as a seamless team and Draco told me he wanted to try out some of their moves with the Slytherin team this year. He was sure that he and Adrian would be able to pull some of those moves off. They scored a couple of times before the Bulgarians made their first goal. And then the Irish seeker crashed to the floor when Krum did the Wronksi defensive feint. I looked at it in slow motion when the medi-wizard took care of Lynch (the Irish seeker) and was amazed by Krum’s flying skills. He makes it look like he’s unsupported and weightless in the sky.

When the game started up again, the Irish took a massive lead and the game became dirtier and dirtier. At one point the Irish got a penalty and the Veela tried to seduce the referee, who then tried to send them off the field. The Bulgarian beaters started an argument with the referee, who then gave Ireland another two penalties. Not much later, when Ireland got another penalty the Veela and Leprechauns got into a fight and the Veela’s didn’t look beautiful anymore, but their faces had elongated into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders. But I didn’t pay much attention to that fight, because the game was still going on and I didn’t want to miss one little bit.

At some point, a Bludger hit Krum who broke his nose, but the referee didn’t see because his broom was on fire and Krum just continued the game with a bleeding nose. At that moment the Irish Seeker suddenly went into a dive, he’d seen the snitch. Krum sped after him and they drawled level while they hurtled towards the ground. Lynch smashed into the ground and Krum rose up into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. He’d caught the snitch. The final score was 160 points for Bulgaria and 170 for Ireland. Remus asks why Krum had cot the Snitch and both me, Draco and Tonks explained to him that it was clear that Bulgaria was never going to catch up to the Irish.

After the game, Draco said goodnight to his parents and we made our way back to the campsite. Mr Tonks made us all some hot chocolate and I think he spiked the once of all the adults and we had some conversations about the game. When we finished our drinks Sirius told us it was time for bed and Draco and I slipped into the tent. We got into our bed and Draco told me he wanted to become a professional Quidditch player one day. His eyes shown and his smile was wide and gorgeous. I told him that I’m sure he will be one day, that he’s an amazing Chaser. We kissed and moved together until pleasure took over before we fell asleep.

I wish that could have been the end of our little trip, blessed out and in the arms of the man I love. But the night turned into a small nightmare. Sirius woke us up in the middle of the night and told us to get a jacket and to get outside. When we got outside we could see people running away into the woods. Something was moving across the field towards us, emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Draco muttered the word Death Eaters and when I looked closer I could see that the something were people wearing masks and pointing their wands into the air. High above them, floating along in midair, were four struggling figures that were being contorted into grotesque shapes. Sirius told us to hide in the woods, that he was going to help Moony, Tonks and Mr Tonks who already had set off towards the group of Death Eaters.

Draco took my hand and pulled me into the woods. When I looked at him he had tears streaming down his cheeks and I stopped him when we had just passed the first line of trees. I could hear children crying, anxious shouts and panicked voices all around us, but at that moment I only had eyes for Draco. He muttered he was sorry and I took him in my arms, told him he had nothing to be sorry for. And then he said that he had, that his father was probably one of the people torturing those muggles. I didn’t know what to say to Draco at that point. I don’t blame him for what his father does, and I hate how it hurts Draco, but he was right. Draco’s father was most likely the one organising the masked parade.

The blasts from the commotion came closer and closer and Draco took out his wand and light it up. I tried to get mine, but somehow I’d had lost it. We looked around with the light of Draco’s wand but couldn’t find it. It made me feel vulnerable and I was glad Draco was with me, knowing he would protect me if it was necessary.

We were still looking when the house-elf that had been in the top box was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She moved as though someone invisible was trying to hold her back. She said some nonsenses and then disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path.

We decided to move further into the woods and slowly the world around us became quieter. We picked a spot and sat down to wait for Sirius to return. I was worried about them all, fighting the death eaters. I only just got to live with Sirius, I didn’t want to go back to the Dursleys if anything bad happened now.

After some time we heard footsteps behind us, but nobody was there. Draco called out a hello, but there was no answer. And then someone shouted a spell that made Draco shiver next to me. A vast, green light erupted from between the trees and flew up into the sky. It formed a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. In seconds the woods around us erupted with screams and Draco was squeezing so hard onto my hand it hurt. I whispered to him to ask what it was and he told me it was the Dark Mark, the sign of the Dark Lord. We stood there frozen searching the woods around us for the person who had conjured the mark until wizard appeared around us. We only just ducked in time before they all started shooting off stupefy’s. And then Tonks screamed at them to all stop, that it was Harry Potter they were aiming at.

The firing stopped and Tonks checked to see if we were alright, but she was pushed out of the way by a stern-looking wizard, Mr Crouch, who right away accused Draco of conjuring the Dark Mark. I told he Draco hadn’t, but Mr Crouch didn’t believe me. Sirius and Remus showed up and Sirius almost started a fight with Crouch. Remus asked us where the Mark had come from and we pointed him in the right direction. Remus and some of the other wizards raised their wands towards the trees we pointed out and went to search the woods. Only seconds later they came back out with an unconscious house-elf, Mr Crouch’s house-elf. And she was holding a wand. When Mr Diggory held it in front of the elf I recognised it as my own lost wand. For a moment everyone looked at me like I had conjured the Dark Mark until Sirius said that they all should remember who they are looking at.

Mr Diggory continued to question Mr Crouch’s house-elf and I was surprised when Draco spoke up to say that it hadn’t been a house-elf voice that had conjured the mark, but the voice of a man. There was some more discussion going on and in the end, everyone agreed that the house-elf couldn’t have conjured the mark and we were all free to go and I’d gotten my wand back. Sirius apparated us back to Grimmauld Place and made us go back to bed. In bed, Draco explained to me that the Dark Mark was used whenever someone was killed by Death Eaters. His father had told him about it when he was younger. I told Draco I was worried, that not long ago I had woken up with my scar hurting and now his mark had shown in the sky. Draco nodded and kissed me and told me to try to get some sleep.

And now it’s morning, Draco has just finished his shower and we’re about to go down for some breakfast. I’m scared mom and dad. What if Voldemort is really coming back? Will he come after me?

Draco is telling me not to worry, that we’ll be off to Hogwarts soon and that the Dark Lord is terrified of Dumbledore so that we will be safe as long as we are at school. And that he’s hungry, so I should stop writing and make him breakfast.

Love you both,

Harry James Potter.

#letters to my parents #drarry #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #harry in slytherin #quidditch world cup #birthday party #dark mark #viktor krum #AlindasStories

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

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Friends in Dark Places [ch 12]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: sensory overload, panic attacks, self hate, school dances, swearing, food mentions, kissing, embarrassment, rumors, eating, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

“So, Virgil. Are you going to prom?” Roman casually asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.” Virgil absently dipped a chicken nugget into the pool of ranch on his tray. He really hadn’t thought about prom that much. Plus, the thought of a whole bunch of his peers stuck in one room together, probably grinding with their respective dates, was not a pleasant one.

“Awww, kiddo! You should go! You could come with us; we’re going to grab dinner and everything,” Patton whined.

“I mean, I guess?” Virgil grimaced as he weighed the options. “But don’t I have to rent a tux? I don’t have money for that, especially not after what happened on Monday. I’d be surprised to find my credit card still working with all of that in mind.”

Logan jumped into the conversation. “You would have to rent a tux, yes, but the three of us would be more than happy to help cover your expenses. We value you as a member of our friend group, and we wouldn’t exclude you from something just because you couldn’t afford it.”

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, but Roman interjected, “Dude, seriously. Just let us do this for you. It’ll be fun!”

“Plus, Ro already bought you a ticket,” Logan added and held out a small slip of cardstock. Westview Junior Prom.

Well, Virgil Thomas was now going to prom.

---

“Hey, Pat? Can you help me with my tie?” Virgil called from his bathroom. He had been struggling for the past five minutes trying to figure out the witchcraft behind ties, and he still had zero clue as to what he was supposed to be doing.

“Be right there, kiddo!” It was only a few moments before soft footsteps could be heard approaching, and Patton walked into the bathroom. He’d already mostly finished getting ready sans the fact that his hair was a catastrophic mess. Virgil could guess that he’d been trying to fix it when he’d been called into the other room.

“Alright. Work your magic,” Virgil smirked. In a matter of seconds, Patton had looped and pulled the tie into place, gently tightening it around Virgil’s neck. It was deep purple, picked out specifically because of his dislike of most other colors, and it went very well with the blues and reds of the others’ ties. The tie also matched the freshly dyed purple hair that Roman had forced his three friends to do along with him earlier that afternoon. What an ass.

Virgil admired his reflection. “Dude, what the fuck? How did you do that?” He felt oddly confident in his skin. The same feeling had come about a few times since he’d met Patton, and he had to admit that it was nice. Pat’s happy-go-lucky attitude somehow perfectly meshed with Virgil’s own doom-and-gloom one, forming a hilariously compatible friendship.

Patton smiled and ruffled Virgil hair, much to the other’s dismay. “Now that I helped you, will you please fix my hair.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I mean it, Virge! Look at this.” Pat ran his fingers through his hair and aggressively tugged when he reached a clump of knots.

“Okay, yeah, we’re fixing that right now.”

---

“Dinner? Really, Patton? You guys couldn’t have told me about this before?” Virgil whined as the four walked into the diner. Yes, a diner, which meant that they were ridiculously overdressed; every other patron was wearing some sort of flannel and jeans combo. It smelled great, sure, but it was so unexpected that he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“It’s our favorite restaurant,” Logan explained. “We always come here before school events. Roman has coined it as some sort of weird ritual, but it’s mostly tradition.” He led Virgil to the booth that Patton and Roman had already rushed to sit in.

“Plus, we’re friends with the staff,” Ro started with a smile. “You’ll love them; they’re all super nice. Speaking of, here comes Emilia.”

A young lady with brown hair walked up to their table, pulling out her small notepad. “Well, who do we have here? Another addition to our little group of customers of the month for every month since 2014?”

“Hey, Emilia!” Patton said. “This is Virgil; he’s a new friend of ours. He’s been living with me for a few weeks while his dad is out of the country on business.”

“That’s sweet, Patton. Now, what can I get for you guys?”

The three regulars spouted off their orders, clearly versed in what they wanted to eat. Suddenly, all eyes turned to Virgil. He’d barely been able to look over the menu in the time the others had taken to order.

“Uh… I… Um…” He stuttered. Every drop of intelligence that he had in his body was gone in an instant, and he was left a bumbling mess.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Patton cut in, saving his friend from any further embarrassment.

“Alright! I’ll be back in a few with your food and a pitcher of water!” Emilia gave the boys another smile before she walked back behind the counter to tend to other customers. Almost immediately, Patton and Roman launched themselves into a fast paced discussion about the upcoming festivities. Virgil, unsurprisingly, not only felt anxious, but he also felt like a complete idiot. He was just ordering dinner--there was no reason for him to have been so freaked out.

Virgil felt a hand rest on his left shoulder, turning to see Logan with a worried expression etched on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to step outside for a moment to regain composure? I’d be willing to go with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Uh, no. I’m okay. I’m just a little worried. I mean, this is my first proper school event in, like, ever, and it’s freaking intimidating. You guys go to these things multiple times a year?” Virgil ran his hands through his hair, distressed.

“I understand. When Roman and Patton first made me come with them to homecoming, I was so nervous that I nearly passed out on the way here. Thankfully, I wasn’t driving us everywhere back then otherwise that would’ve ended in a disaster.” Logan gave Virgil a small smile, adding to the tiny--yet slowly growing--list of his outward displays of emotion. Virgil knew Lo wasn’t an emotionless android, but Roman and Patton were so all over the place that someone needed to play the calm and collected one.

“They can be pretty intense,” Virgil commented with a smile at the enthusiastic conversation across the table from them. Both of the teens were grinning and flinging their hands around in wild gestures, barely avoiding impact.

“Yeah, they sure can.” Logan glanced at the other side of the table with a fond expression, but he quickly snapped out of his reverie. “Don’t worry about the dance. Oh, here!” He pulled a pair of earbuds out of his inside jacket pocket and held them out to Virgil. “It gets pretty loud at these dances. I’ve observed that you put on headphones when it gets too noisy, so I brought these just in case you didn’t have your own.”

Virgil pocketed them just as Emilia finally returned with their food. The other three immediately began to dig in while he hesitantly poked at his burger. He picked up a fry and lazily popped it into his mouth.

He picked at his fries for a few minutes, but he eventually worked his way up to taking a bite of his burger. “Holy shit! This stuff is great--wait, why haven’t you taken me here yet?”

“I was trying to ease you into our friend group, so I thought eating dinner at my house would save you some unnecessary interaction,” Pat explained. “Obviously, that was a crime against your taste buds.”

“Of course it was, Patton. Depriving anyone of this blessed food is practically a war crime!” Roman dramatically stated, throwing out his arms. Virgil snorted at the theatrics.

They continued to eat, and all but Virgil had finished their dinner when Emilia returned to their table for dessert orders. Logan ordered a slice of pecan pie for himself, a chocolate lava cake for Roman, a hot fudge sundae for Patton, and a caramel shake for Virgil. Patton, of course, began to spout off a review of all of the desserts they’d ordered, even though Virgil wouldn’t be eating most of them. They all listened politely, not really absorbing any of the information, until their orders arrived. Within a nanosecond, Pat’s face was stuffed full of vanilla ice cream and fudge sauce, easily and efficiently shutting him up.

They ate in near silence, save for the “light” discussion of whether cake or pie was better (Patton eventually had to cut in when Roman threatened Logan with a butterknife). Pat covered the whole bill once they’d finished, claiming “it’s my way of thanking you guys for putting up with my shenanigans.”

---

“Three, two, one!” Roman dramatically counted as he threw the doors to the venue open. Time seemed to freeze as the four friends stepped in; all eyes snapped to them. It had been days since they’d been the topic of gossip at school, but that didn’t mean the student body had lost their interest in the boys.

Roman was at the front of the group, confidently striding to the grand staircase and adjusting his red tie. Logan followed close behind, who looked absolutely stunning in the sharp suit and deep blue tie. Then was Patton, who was marveling at the cascading flower vines and glittering fairy lights. And last but certainly not least…

Virgil. He had a wary smile on his face, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. The boy made absolutely sure that he didn’t get lost; he kept eyes on Patton the entire time they descended the stairs.

Logan had been right; it was fucking loud. People were screaming left and right, and the music was so loud that Virgil could feel every beat vibrate in his chest. He was lucky that he’d put the earbuds in before they’d arrived, or he never would have stepped inside the venue.

Patton turned around to check on Virgil, obviously sensing the tension building in his friend. He held out his hand for Virgil, who hesitated for just a moment before gently taking it. If people wanted to believe they were together, that wasn’t his problem. It was no skin off his back.

They talked and danced for what felt like hours, and Virgil even joined in on a few of the dances he knew. He was having fun. He smiled and laughed, and it was all genuine! In just a few short weeks, Patton had actually transformed him from a suicidal nightmare into someone who found joy in life. It was a stupid sentiment, and he knew it, but it still brought Virgil a bit of warmth in his chest.

The DJ announced a slow dance. Ugh, how awful. He had nobody to dance with; it was just—

Oh.

Patton tugged Virgil’s hand lightly, pulling their bodies closer together. “Wanna dance? We don’t have to, of course, but it would be a fun first experience for both of us!”

“I—Uh, sure,” Virgil mumbled, trying to hide his gently growing blush. Pat gently guided Virgil’s hands around his neck and placed his own on Virgil’s waist. For the first time, Virgil noticed that he was just an inch or so taller than his friend. Reveling in the warmth and closeness, the two swayed together to the gentle rhythm.

The song ended, and Virgil stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was extremely grateful that the low light hid his pink cheeks. The screaming resumed as couples broke apart, and early 2000s rap boomed out of the speakers.

And then just like that, Virgil was attacked by anxiety. His hands started shaking, and he rushed away from the small group he was in, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. He calmed slightly when he had made it outside, where he simply collapsed to the ground, but then his panic picked up again when he realized how fucking alone he was always going to be.

Nobody would love the weird guy who rushes out on social gatherings for no fucking reason! Why should they? Virgil had nothing to offer; he was just a guy who had snark to rival Roman and barely two cents to his name.

Tears streamed down his face, running in dark gray streaks as they mixed with his black eye makeup. He could feel his chest heaving, but little air actually made it into his body. Everything was working overtime yet nothing actually happened. Virgil stayed sobbing on the ground. Nothing. Changed.

“Virge, honey? Do you need me to call my mom and have her pick us up?” Patton slowly lowered himself next to Virgil, talking softly so that he woudn’t stir up anything worse.

“N-No! I’ll… I’ll… Fuck!” Virgil cried as he ripped the earbuds out of his ears. He threw the cord a few feet away, instantly regretting it as the sound of shattering plastic reached his ears. He’d have to buy Logan new ones. He couldn’t afford to replace them.

“Goodness gracious, Virgil. It’s okay. I’m going to call Logan, and we’re going to get you out of here—“

“I-I-I don’t… want t-t-to… ruin… night…” Virgil sputtered. He was having trouble pushing the words out; all of them got stuck in his throat.

Patton carefully began to comb through Virgil’s hair with his fingers in an attempt to soothe the attack. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. There isn’t much more fun to be had, anyway. We still love you—I still love you.”

That’s it. That’s what he felt. Love. He loved Patton.

All of the impulse control he had—though, truthfully, there was very little to begin with—left his body. He reached out and brought Pat’s face to his own, lightly kissing him. Patton stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the kiss. They were both going to regret this later, but what did that matter in the moment?

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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bananxjin · 5 years

Text

Two Halves of a Whole Idiot // Kim Seokjin x Reader

|| List ||

Word Count: 3,018

Synopsis: All it takes is one phone call for Reader to realize her feelings might run a little deeper than she’d originally thought. AKA: “Hey, let’s date!”

//Heavily inspired by this video which every Jin stan needs to watch immediately. Its ruined me.

I don’t think I’ve ever cranked a fic out faster. Not spellchecked so there might be errors! Apologies!//

Fluff || Fluff || Heavy on the Fluff

☆

“No she didn’t.”

“She absolutely did!” Jin yells into the receiver, sounding completely baffled. “She was like, ‘I guess it’s just kind of weird? You’re nearly thirty years old, and you��re still collecting Pokemon cards?’.” You roll your eyes. “And then when I asked to see a dessert menu, she said she doesn’t do desserts because they aren’t healthy.” He sighed, “I mean yeah, devil’s food cake isn’t healthy, but it sure is fucking tasty after eating a big dinner!”

You frown and lean back further into your computer chair. ‘I’m really sorry she didn’t end up being what you wanted, Jinnie.” You coo. You knew Jin had had a crush on this girl for months now. Everytime Jin would flirt with her or make an attempt to ask her out, she’d brush him off or as Jin would say, ‘She’s playing hard to get!’ -- You recall the rare times where she’d flirt with him or how he’d turn to jelly anytime she brushed her fingertips along his shoulders while he was working.

It was all for naught though, and deep down, you knew. She’d only use his crush on her to her complete advantage anytime something was ‘Too hard’ or if she was leaving early and couldn’t be bothered to finish a project -- She’d run to Jin, butter him up, and leave him in her wake. You didn’t want to say Jin was foolish, but…

He’s a bit foolish.

But that’s what love does to ya, right? Jin sighs again, “It’s not your fault, (Y/n). I think it’s just going to suck seeing her at work again on Monday.” You hummed in response, “I mean the date was terrible! I can already see it, she’s going to tell everyone…”

“I’d say don’t worry about it.” You responded, sitting up a bit. “You know everybody in that building loves you; you’re a walking teddy bear, and say she does manage to change one or two people’s opinions of you, who gives a shit?” You’re voice trembled a bit. Jin doesn’t respond.

“The people who want to be your friends aren’t going to let some crappy date with a snobby, spoiled brat ruin that.” You continued, “I know if she says anything to me, I’ll tell her where she can shove her rumors.”

Jin chuckled, “That actually made me feel a little bit better; thank you, (Y/n).” His sweet laughter brings a smile to your face; it never fails to do so. Ever since you’ve met Jin, that’s always been the best part about him. His laughter paired with his beautiful smile and goofy sense of humor. He’s always been your brightest ray of sunshine.

Then you start thinking about it…

“Do you have plans next weekend? There’s a new restaurant that opened up on the dock, and I really want to try it! They have boba and red bean pastries!” He exclaims excitedly, but you barely hear him over your own thoughts.

You’d always look the other way anytime he’d flirt with her because “That’s gross.” and “I’ll never understand why you like her; she won’t even give you the time of day.”, or when she would flirt with him, it’d make your blood boil. Yes, it was because you knew she was taking advantage of your best friend, but deep down, it was something much bigger.

Even now, after sitting here for the past hour, listening to him complain about the date going horribly and how his idea of her just crumbled -- You’re kind of happy that the date didn’t work out. That sounds terrible, but at least you’re being honest with yourself.

“(Y/n)? Did I lose ya?” He coos. You clear your throat, blushing a bit.

All those times in college when the two of you would stay up late, insisting you’re gonna study, but you played video games together instead. Falling asleep, cuddled up together on the couch; in your bed; in his bed. Being cuddled up to him during movie nights with your friends, or sharing food and drinks when you went out to eat together.

These feelings.

They’ve always been there.

“Yeah, I’d love to go, Jin! Will Saturday afternoon work?” He giggles on the other end, “Saturday afternoon is perfect!” He exclaims. “Ugh, I’ve gotta go now, though. I’m pretty sure my laundry finished like half an hour ago, and I don’t want anybody stealing my clothes from the dryer.” He sighs, “Thank you so much for listening to me whine about last night.”

You smile, “It’s no problem!” You exclaim, hesitating a bit before adding, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

You can hear him smirk, “I’ll remember that next weekend when we get the bill.”

“Hey!” You yell, making him burst out into a full belly laugh. “I’ll talk to ya later, okay?”

The two of you say your farewells before hanging up. You toss your phone onto the bed and slump downwards until you slide out of your computer chair and onto your floor like a puddle of mushy goo.

“So we’re really doing this, huh?” You mumble to nobody in particular, staring up at you ceiling. “We’re just gonna suddenly fall in love with World Wide Cute Guy over here and call it a day, huh?” You continue a little louder this time.

The anxiety begins to bubble in your tummy. What if you tell him and he shoots you down? You two have only known each other for nearly a decade now, surely it wouldn’t ruin your friendship?

A thought suddenly hits you, and you gasp. Did you actually end the call?!

The speed at which you move from your floor to the bed would put Speedy Gonzales to shame. You’re relieved to find that the call had most definitely ended, but on your lockscreen was a text notification from Jin. All it said was, “Seriously, thanks for always being there for me! I don’t know what I’d do without you!” Followed by a spam of pink, sparkly heart emojis.

Your heart swelled ten times larger, cheeks turning a dusty pink and you couldn’t hold back the soft smile forming on your lips. You wouldn’t know what to do without Jin yourself. Your best friend Jin, who gave your forehead kisses. Jin, who held your hand during scary movies or while walking down the street. Jin, who will buy the largest bowl of orange sherbet that’s offered, and then spoon feed it to you even though he bought you your own cone. You can’t help but cover your face when you remember the first time he did that.

“Wow! You actually ate off my spoon!” He laughed. “Yeah! You hold a spoonful of ice cream up to my face, I’m going to take the bite!” You laughed in response.

His laughter slowly died down as he took his own bite, “You know when they do that during anime, they always joke about how they shared an indirect kiss.” He giggled. You didn’t think much about it as you worked your way through your cone. Then slowly, you put the puzzle pieces together in your mind, nearly forcing your heart to stop.

“So, (Y/n)... How was our first indirect kiss?”

You huff out and fall back onto your bed, body feeling all warm and tingly as you begin to wonder what it’d actually feel like to kiss Prince Pillow Lips. You rake your fingers through your hair and turn to your phone again.

“Okay, okay.” You breathe out, trying to calm yourself. You’re suddenly hyper aware of everything. Every aspect of your relationship; every word you’ve ever said to him; every interaction the two of you have ever had. What should you say to him? Do you even respond? There’s not really much you can say, “Yeah, my heart would probably crumble if I couldn’t see you anymore?” God, clingy much?

You swallow and scroll through some reaction images you could send to him. You find a goofy one of Hobi laughing really hard with hearts surrounding him. Would that be weird to send? Namjoon’s the one that made it look like that and you’ve sent it to him before, but what if…

You scroll back through your chat thread, re-reading old conversations. Nothing here to indicate any developing feelings; just a bunch of terrible jokes, “I’m here!” notifications, and a few serious messages about Coworker that let Jin down.

You could hear your heart thrumming in your ears ‘Just do it!’ your brain screams. You feel little beads of sweat building on your forehead as you stare down the little “Call” button in the corner of the screen. What’s your excuse? The two of you just got off the phone, what else could you possibly have to say other than, “Hey, I just missed your voice, and I realized a couple of things about you and me-”

Somewhere in your dissociation, you’ve already hit the call button, and Jin’s been on the line for the last fifteen seconds asking if you’re there. You swallow and put the phone up to your ear.

“(Y/n)?! Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…” You rasp. “Is something wrong? Did you need to-”

“Let’s go out.”

… … … Silence.

“What?” He asks in a hushed whisper.

“Let’s go out… On a date.”

Silence. Again.

“Is this a joke? Are… Are you messing with me right now? Because (Y/n), if you are, then that’s really mean, and I don’t-”

“No, I’m being completely serious.” You respond, surging with confidence as you sit up right, “I know I said next Saturday, but actually I want to go to that new restaurant today, and afterwards I want to get ice cream from that little shop near the ferries? And then maybe we can go to the observatory later and look at the stars or something, I don’t know! But what I do know is…”

You take a deep breath, “I want to be close to you right now.”

Again with that blasted silence except this time, you’re actually worried he might’ve hung up on you.

He didn’t.

But your worrying persists.

“Okay.”

“... What?”

“Let’s do that, then. I’ll be by to pick you up in a half hour, yeah?”

As promised, you went to that new restaurant. Despite how awkward you felt over the phone, Jin acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. He carried the conversation in the car, telling you all about this American video game that he could finally buy and play in Korea, or how his parents were back in town and his mom desperately wanted to see you again, “She thinks of you as like her own daughter; she loves you!” He laughed.

The waiter directed “The sweet couple” to one of the outside tables where you got a lovely view of the ocean and all the tourists coming in and out of the ferry boats. Jin insisted on taking a cute picture together with the ocean in the background. You smiled through the anxiety and Jin held up his fingers in a peace sign. You had to complain after seeing the picture because “I look terrible in that! Please delete it!” And of course Jin had to laugh at you, “You look as cute as you always do, (Y/n)~” He cooed, leaning in closer to your face as he said your name. It did nothing to settle the butterflies in your tummy.

Damn him.

After lunch, Jin immediately grabbed your hand and dragged you further down the docks so you could get ice cream from the little ice cream shop. Jin had to get his Extra Large bowl of orange sherbet, and you got your usual cookie dough cone. That lasted all of thirty seconds when a seagull swooped down and reached for your ice cream. He didn’t manage to grasp it, but the fear of him swooping you caused you to drop your cone on the ground.

Jin couldn’t hold back his squeaky laughter, keeping a hold on his ice cream bowl as he doubled over in his cute, dumb laughing fit. “Please don’t worry, (Y/n)! I’ll gladly share my ice cream with you!”

The two of you took a seat on one of the benches. As promised, Jin took turns spoon feeding you and taking bites of his own. “That couldn’t have worked out better, actually.” He mutters through mouthfuls of creamy sherbet, “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to finish this all on my own.”

You roll your eyes, instinctively opening your mouth so he can feed you, “Then why do you always order the biggest size dummy!” You demand, covering a hand over your mouth. He chipmunks the ice cream in his cheeks, smiling wide at you, “Because I know you’ll eat it with me!”

It wasn’t quite late enough to see the stars just yet, so the two of you took a stroll through one of the many shopping districts in the area. Jin pulled you into one of his favorite shops so you could look at CD’s and cute stationary. From the moment you two walked through the door, Jin always caught you glancing back at the gudetama stationary set. Despite your stubborn adamancy, Jin insisted he buy it for you. “It’s the least I could do since you took me out to that restaurant!”

“I took you-! You’re the one that insisted on paying for the meal!” You bit back. He snickered, “It’s the thought that counts, (Y/n).” You stubbornly walked away towards the beauty products while Jin took the stationary set up to the cashier.

You thanked Jin for the stationary once you left, but you still berated him for actually buying it, “You didn’t have to do that!” You whined cutely.

“But I wanted to!” He mocked you in the same whiny voice before promptly grabbing your hand. You could feel your cheeks heating up, but you refused to say anything. Jin smirked and laced his fingers through yours. “Let’s head back to the car. It’ll be dark enough by the time we get to the observatory.”

The observatory was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night, mostly consisting of parents with younger children or older couples. The entire top floor was rounded, encasing telescopes that allowed you to look over the brightly lit city or up at the moon and stars. A little further down the hall was the gift shop where most of the kids would end up lingering.

You and Jin went through and looked through each telescope, wanting to get different views of the city and sky, but you kept lingering back towards a specific one that offered you a wonderful view of the ocean. “I love how the lights just reflect off the water.” You whisper, “The ocean looks beautiful at night.”

You’re startled as you feel Jin wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Hmm… I’ve seen way prettier.” He responds nonchalantly. You snort, “You talking about when you look in the mirror?” You ask somewhat jokingly. He smirks, “Sometimes, but even more beautiful than that…”

He gently pulls you back, turning you around to face him. He takes a good look at your face before a big dorky smile breaks out onto his own, “That,” He says, “Is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You swallow thickly, tilting your head to the side, “What?”

“You.” He whispers, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, sliding his hands down your arms and into your hands. You smirk at him, “I am sweaty and i’m sure my hair looks like a total mess right now, how can you joke like that? It’s mean.”

His large hands move down to cup your waist and pull you closer to him, “I’m not joking.” He says sternly, gazing into your eyes.

“(Y/n), I’ve liked you since our college days together.” He whispered leaning his forehead against yours. You ran your hands up his arms, and flattened your palms against his chest. “I thought that maybe if I get into a relationship with someone else, I’d be able to get over you, but…” His eyes search yours for a moment, “(Y/n), I need you. I need you and all of your affection and all of your baggage.” He chuckles a bit, “I’m a selfish man. I want all of it; everything... God, when you asked me out on the phone earlier, I thought... I didn't know what to think.” He huffs out.

Your eyes remain glued to him, unable to look away. He just laid it all out there for you in a complete state of vulnerability. Time to match his sincerity. “That’s wild because I’ve been trying to deny my feelings for you for years now.” You make a face immediately after saying that; way to ruin the moment, you think, but Jin doesn’t mind. He can’t help but laugh, “W-what I mean is…” You clear your throat, hoping Jin won’t notice your red cheeks, “I never thought you’d see me the same way I see you, so I thought… I’d rather preserve our friendship than take the risk.” You mutter, gaze flickering down to his lips. He smiles, “I don’t want you to deny your feelings anymore.” He whispers, “And I don’t ever want you to get over me.” You whisper back.

He finally leans forward, closing the gap between the two of you; finally gives you a taste of what you’ve been craving for so long. A soft, sweet, loving kiss that you want to pour all of your love into just for Jin. He inhales, smiling against your lips before wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping you. You squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m going to love on you so much tonight.” He mutters against your kiss swollen lips. You can’t help but giggle and lean in to kiss him again.

“But seriously… We’re both kinda dumb, aren’t we?” He laughs.

“Maybe just a little!”

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