#AND I NEED TO BUY CAKE STUFF WITHIN THE NEXT FEW DAYS

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part 24)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,148

Warning: Fluff

********

After Cillian had returned to filming in Manchester, you stayed with Denise for a few days in order to visit your doctor for a follow up appointment and celebrate your birthday.

You still weren’t allowed to drive but the doctor gave you the all clear to resume normal activities within the next week and, certainly, by the time you got to see Cillian again.

Travelling by air was safe for you and he determined that you were sufficiently healed to resume being intimate as well, provided, of course, that you used protection.

You took a script for the patch but the doctor advised you that, for the first month, the patch alone wouldn’t be enough and you were somewhat disappointed about having to resort to a different form of contraception again, namely condoms.

But, this wasn’t the issue that bothered you the most. An ugly scar was now covering your stomach and you felt rather self-conscious about it and, when you went shopping for new swimwear since you found out from Cillian where you would be going for your holiday, you chose a one-piece swimsuit for the first time in your life.

‘You do realise that dad won’t care, right?’ Denise said, rolling her eyes as you tried on the swimmers.

‘I know but I honestly don’t want him to see this ugly ass scar all the time’ you huffed out, causing Denise to pull a face of disgust once again.

‘Whilst the idea of you being naked in front of my father still disgusts me, I can assure you that he won’t be bothered. Mum had a c-section with Lucas and yet he somehow managed to make me’ Denise then laughed and, when she said this, it was your time to look disgusted at her.

‘Thanks, I didn’t need to imagine your dad and mum having sex’ you said somewhat amused but, of course, Denise had a counter argument.

‘Now you know how I feel when I go shopping with you for lingerie and swimwear, knowing that you are buying this stuff for my dad and…yeah…no…we need to change the topic now Y/N…’ Denise then pointed out and you reminded her that you came shopping with her upon her request as she had a date with the man she started seeing recently.

****

Later that day, after your shopping trip, Denise took you to your favourite café for some cake and coffee. It was your birthday after all and, thus for, only her, Cillian and your grandmother seemed to have remembered. Your parents didn’t bother to call you and you were rather disappointed by that.

When you walked into the café however, all of your disappointments were gone. You were stunned and surprised all at the same time when you saw your grandmother waiting for you at a small table in the corner.

‘Nan, what are you doing here?’ you asked and she reminded you that she had always spent your birthdays with you since you were a baby.

‘And how did you get here?’ you then wondered and she explained to you that a woman by the name of Orla had picked her up from her home in Kilkenny on her way back to Dublin.

‘She is staying at our house for the night. Dad organised it with my aunt and myself to surprise you since he couldn’t be here’ Denise then explained and you were absolutely amazed and gave your grandmother a big hug.

She was quick to tell you that she was going to cook for you that night and handed you her birthday present.

Just like always, she knew what you would like and gifted you a book set that you were really keen to read. It had only just been published and she knew that you wanted it.

Denise then also handed you a present, which was rather funny. It was a book entitled ‘How to be a good step parent’ and you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw it.

Then, she handed you something else.

‘That’s from dad. He asked me to give that to you’ she then said and you gasped momentarily as you didn’t expect it.

‘Uhm, I thought him taking me on a holiday to the South of France was more than enough. He really didn’t have to get me anything’ you then said as you opened the envelope Denise had handed you first.

‘Jesus, he’s written two fucking pages’ Denise then said as she looked at what appeared to be a letter and you were rather excited to read it.

‘That is so cheesy’ she then went on to say as you silently began to read it and a wide smile formed across your face.

‘No Love, that is romantic. Back in my day, my late husband always used to write me letters. It was beautiful and I kept them all’ your grandmother then explained and you tended to agree with her.

This gesture, in itself, was more unique and romantic than anything else anyone had ever done for you and you loved the fact that the man you were with was so poetic.

After you took your time to read the letter which Cillian had written for you, you opened the present Denise gave you next and were somewhat surprised when, inside the gift bag, there was a coral blue Tiffany box.

‘Okay now I am a little jealous’ Denise joked, seeing the box. But of course, you both knew that she was joking after, for her last birthday, her father was nice enough to buy her a new car after she successfully managed to not smash her old 2005 Mazda 2 she had bought second hand when she got her licence three years ago.

When you opened the box and looked inside, you saw a beautiful gold heart shaped and engraved necklace and what amazed you was that, clearly, he had remembered something quite intriguing about you no one else would have remembered.

Not only had the movie Breakfast at Tiffany been your favourite since you were a young girl, but also did the engraving bear significant relevance to you.

‘I don’t get it’ Denise said as she looked at the words engraved at the back of the charm and they read ‘as you wish’.

‘It’s from a novel by William Goldman’ you explained but Denise, again, looked at you with some confusion.

‘Meaning what?’ she then asked.

‘I love you’ you explained after telling her the story of the first ever fairy tale you read in your room at night in the dark while your parents had a fall out. The book took you away from what was happening at the time and this book also made you fall in love with literature and you recalled having told Cillian about it a few weeks ago.

    Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt

[moiyume]

could I request yan!ideku and the female reader in a queer platonic relationship? I'm asexual and arromantic oriented, and I never see imagines about it before, so you can refuse if you want. I love your blog. ><

♡ YANDERE!IZUKU MIDORIYA HEADCANONS: MORE THAN FRIENDS, LESS THAN LOVERS.

A/N: Hi my love, I'm so sorry to have left your request gathering dust. I too am aroace (not sure if you read my carrd...) and am in a platonic queer relationship, so writing on the topic with my favorite character warms my heart. I hope you like what I've written! ♡

Warnings ⚠️: yandere themes, suggestive (very little), kidnapping, cute stuff to make your day better.

Pairing: Yandere!Izuku Midoriya × fem!reader.

Masterlist ♡

My requests are closed for now.

Confused. That's the closest synonym Izuku could find for the relationship you two have crafted these past few months.

Don't think he didn't intend to take you to his room and make you see stars, because he most certainly did. However, those plans would have to wait for a next life, that is if God was merciful enough to give him the chance to meet you in the next incarnation, of course.

But you taught him that relationships are not just about sex and cliché romances. You gave him more than that.

The connection between you was established from a friendship, he had no idea how much he needed you until he spent the entire night waiting for a message from you. The need to be together, to talk, to have someone who understood him.

It didn't take long for Deku to want you so badly enough to lock you up in his house. Don't get him wrong, he just wanted to make sure you wouldn't have that with anyone else.

He was treading on eggshells at first, afraid to overstep his boundaries, because this discovery broke many of the plans he had planned. When you explained how you felt, or rather, what you didn't feel, he knew what he had to do.

Moderate physical contact, nothing that makes you uncomfortable, everything within your limits. Maybe a cuddle or a really strong bear hug.

Friday afternoons are sweet. Deku will bring milk rolls, cakes, chocolates and non-alcoholic drinks for you to sit in the back garden and enjoy the sunset, a picnic indoors.

He will watch kitten videos with you on the computer and will buy matching bracelets for you to wear. He believes that rings are all about romantic relationships, and what you have is more than that.

You can reward his understanding with words of affirmation, praising him, touching and kissing the scars on his hands, saying how strong, beautiful and needed he is. "You are good to me, Izu"

If you do, prepare for a shower of kisses on the cheek and a sticking Izuku.

On his bad days he will bring you stuffed animals and breakfast in bed, depending on how bad you are maybe he will adopt a street cat for you to raise together. "Let's call her Jade"

It's the relationship of dreams, right?

[thetriggeredhappy]

(I love all of your writings) one of Scout's voice lines literally broke my heart. The one in the Birthday mode which said that no one came to his birthday :"((( the fact that he called everyone his best friends make it sadder. Can you write about that a little bit. I know that you have written about his birthday before but can you do one more pleaseeeeeee

birthday boy time

(warnings for alcohol mention, mention of violence, and injury)

-

“Happy birthday, lad,” Demo greeted, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Scout lit up, calling back a greeting in return.

Call him a sap, but he hadn’t quite given up on having fun birthdays yet. He’d heard it a hundred times from most of the rest of the team, that you stop focusing so much on your birthday when you get older, but not this guy. Scout was determined to actually have a nice birthday.

That being said, he knew by then, after those first few years working with the team, that they had a bit of a history of not necessarily being 100% on board with doing a whole thing purely because someone was a year older, and he mostly settled for bugging some of the team into going out for drinks or ordering a bunch of pizza and playing board games, stuff like that. A hundred times more low-key than what he’d do if they were in Boston, but hey, he took what he could get, and it usually ruled anyways.

To be honest, he didn’t even really have plans that year. He’d said as much when he was asked earlier that week. It was the middle of the week, not all that close to the weekend, so going out with everyone was pretty much off the table, as was getting drunk considering they all had work the day after. He was gonna head into town and get himself a gift, that was most of his plan, maybe hang out with everyone later on too. He’d been saving his money for a while, a just-in-case fund that he’d been working on for a few years, a luxury he didn’t have growing up, and didn’t tend to spend much money on himself outside of snack food and Bonk and sometimes comic books or little things like that. It would be nice to get himself something he really liked. That alone was plenty of excitement. Not an adrenaline kind, just a regular, nice sort of thing.

Overall, he was honestly just thrilled that apparently everyone actually remembered this year, greeted all morning by similar casual “hey, happy birthday”s, including a particularly excited one from Pyro, who hugged him and spun him in a few circles outright. He had plenty of time next year to do some really sick birthday stuff, but overall, he was just gonna chill out, treat himself for once, and relax.

-

“Alright everyone,” the Engineer said grimly, half an hour previously, casting a look around the room. “Here’s the plan.”

The team minus their fastest member were all gathered around the debriefing table, and this time, rather than Miss Pauling with official orders or Soldier with the latest new strategy, it was the Engineer standing up front holding a piece of chalk.

“We’ve been over this, Toymaker, twice weekly all month,” Demo drawled, rolling his eye.

“I know that, but this is important,” he stressed.

“It is true,” Heavy rumbled, nodding solemnly. “This is big deal.”

“We can’t afford to let this one get mucked up considering our history,” the Engineer said firmly. “Every year it’s somethin’. This year we aren’t taking any chances, especially after that catastrophe last year.”

A groan from the team as they collectively remembered. A nod from the Engineer.

“We’re lucky Firebug was the one to ask why Scout was in the kitchen combing the cabinets and not one of us, otherwise he would’ve found out for sure. If he knew we all forgot his birthday, it would crush him,” he said emphatically. The team looked embarrassed as a whole, while Pyro looked particularly mortified. “And we can’t just buy the damn kid a few pizzas and hand him alcohol like that was the plan again this year.”

“Fortunately for all of you, I’ve been so generous as to look into a few things,” Spy piped in, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.

“As if you won’t take any excuse to snoop,” Sniper mumbled, and was glared at.

“I resent that remark,” Spy scoffed. “Regardless. I happen to know that we’re in luck, and that Scout is planning to go into town for a short period of time this afternoon. For what purpose, I’m not sure. But it should mean we have plenty of time to set everything up.”

“I trust you all have gifts ready?” Medic asked, and received a general murmur of agreement, and made a check on the paper he had attached to a clipboard. “Ja, ja, that is good. Herr Demoman, Pyro, you are done with your baking?”

“Cake is baked, iced, and decorated,” Demo nodded, Pyro giving a thumbs up of agreement.

“Soldier, how are decorations?”

“Acquired and prepared for deployment!” Soldier barked, holding up a hand in salute.

“Doc, Heavy, you two were meant to run interference,” the Engineer said, and the two nodded. “With that not a worry, how about you help with the cooking and decorating?”

“Heavy can do this,” Heavy agreed, and Medic nodded as well, jotting down a few notes on his clipboard.

“And the snake was gonna help with anything that went wrong, and Sniper, you were gonna help with headed into town for anything we needed last minute,” the Engineer said, and received nods from the two of them.

“Do we need anything so far?” Sniper asked.

“No, we’re fine for now. And I’ve got my own setup handled,” the Engineer said, and nodded a few times to himself. “Alright. Sounds like we’re golden.”

“Ja, very good. Herr Spy, would you keep an eye on Scout and let the rest of us know when we can begin getting ready?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Spy said.

“Alright. Now go on, get, he’ll be wondering why we’re all running late, act natural,” the Engineer said, shooing them all from the conference room.

-

Later that day after battle was over, Spy dispersed news not long later that Scout had gotten changed into civvie clothes and gone into town on his bike, and they all leapt into action. Within half an hour, the decorations were ready, streamers and balloons in every direction, the table unfolded from their storage (only used when they needed to seat the entire team, which wasn’t often) and was set up with the cake, ready to have candles lit, the presents were stacked neatly, the Engineer had set up the new sound system he’d been working on (put into crunch time to have ready for the occasion), everything was set up and perfect. The only thing they still needed was Scout.

They settled in to wait, knowing town was a good twenty minutes away, thirty if he was headed to the better one. By the time he found everyone, Spy said that it had been about ten minutes, and they took around thirty to set everything up, meaning that Scout would probably be at least another ten minutes, maybe as much as half an hour. Spy would keep his eyes open and warn them when he came back, but in the meantime, they could relax while they waited.

In the meantime, Soldier and Demo attempted a few ‘finishing touches’ (putting party hats on his more docile raccoons and setting out some firecrackers and sparklers, respectively), and some of the other members of the team sat to play cards for a bit. Pyro, easily the most antsy, burned their way through the box of matches that sat waiting next to the cake one by one and started idly playing with their lighter when they ran out, occasionally lighting some of the extra candles.

Half an hour came and went. Forty minutes. Fifty. An hour.

They asked Spy if he had any word yet. The answer was no, and the visual of a few cigarette butts littered around Spy’s feet and a scowl.

The Engineer played a few song requests on the sound system. Soldier switched around party hats on the raccoons to better suit their personalities. Demo lit a sparkler and let it burn out. They switched card games.

At the two hour mark, the concern was starting to build in all of them. Maybe Scout went even further than any of them had expected. He hadn’t told any of them to wait up for him, to be fair. But he always told them outright if he wouldn’t be back for supper, and he hadn’t said anything, and should’ve been back by then. It was getting well into sundown.

“I am preparing to declare Scout as officially AWOL,” Soldier mumbled somewhere near the two/and-a-half hour mark, just a bit angrily, adjusting the party hat on Corporal Munch where it was crooked. Demo patted him on the shoulder to console him.

“He’ll get here when he gets here,” he assured, going back to fiddling with a party popper.

“Don’t waste those,” the Engineer warned. “And no queens, Go Fish.”

A groan from Medic. Demo shrugged. “We have some extra. Here, just to liven her up.”

He tugged the string on the popper, setting it off and sending a short shower of confetti onto Soldier, and that was where it all went wrong.

Corporal Munch, startled, made a little yelp-like noise and quickly clawed up Soldier’s chest, startled and attempting to escape. Soldier tried to grab on harder, but that just made the raccoon even more alarmed, and it rushed to clamor faster, digging claws in hard. Heads turned in time to see Soldier losing his grip and the animal rushing away towards the nearest enclosed, dim space, which just so happened to be the table Pyro was sitting at with the cake.

Pyro leapt up from their seat, battle instincts kicking in for a moment, and the movement startled the Corporal, who veered suddenly and crashed directly into one of the chairs, toppling it and the one directly next to it and making the entire table jerk.

Pyro, panicked, quickly grabbed the cake stand before it could fall over, dropping their lighter and the candle in their hand. The two things landed on the tablecloth, and by the time Pyro realized their mistake, they’d already lit the thin paper tablecloth on fire.

Shouting around the room as teammates attempted to leap into action, Pyro trying to save the cake from the fire first and foremost, Soldier attempting to catch the Corporal, who was only becoming more freaked out over time. Heavy moved to snatch up some of the other flammable items off of the table, but misjudged where Pyro was moving, and Pyro collided with him, the cake tumbling from the stand and directly across the both of them. The Corporal, entirely confused on the commotion, attempted to claw into the space under the cards table, making Medic yelp as his legs were torn into, Sniper rushing to try and catch the animal as well. Demo, having found the fire extinguisher, realized he was a bit late as he tried to put out the table, most of the tablecloth gone and the fire having spread across the streamers, and he tried to put out what he could, and it was only with the Engineer’s cry of dismay that he remembered, oh, right, those streamers were on top of that shiny new sound system, weren’t they. With a final puff, the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign went up in flames and was gone, and the team was left there in the wreckage.

Spy rounded the corner into the room, eyebrows furrowed from the commotion he’d heard. When he saw the smoking, foamy, cake-y remains, all he could do was sigh, kneading at the bridge of his nose. “Something new every year, is it?” he drawled.

-

It took them the better part of forty minutes to clean up the mess, and even then, the room had a weird smell to it. By the end of everything, all they had was one of the undecorated practice cakes Pyro had baked, some party hats, and some poppers. And by the time they were done cleaning up, Scout still hadn’t returned.

“At least he doesn’t have to see what a damn mess we made of things,” the Engineer sighed, and that seemed to be the consensus.

It was much later that Spy finally let them know that he’d seen the headlights of a motorcycle coming up the road, and the team just sighed, too tired to work up much energy. Some of them at least planned to call out a ‘happy birthday’ at him, but all they could do was stare when he walked into the room.

“Hey, guys,” Scout croaked, attempting a smile through a bruised lip.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sniper demanded, taking in the sight.

Scout was busted up in a number of different ways. What looked like a former bloody nose and a swollen lip seemed to be the worst of it, an amount of blood all down Scout’s front, staining what looked like one of his nicer civvie shirts beyond repair. There was also a dampness to his shirt and hair and a stain that implied he’d been splashed with something, practically drenched by the look of it, and he carried himself just slightly off-balance and held a bag in the arm not cradled to his abdomen.

Despite that, he managed a laugh, a lopsided grin. “Man, what the hell didn’t happen to me is more like it,” he said, shrugging. “Had a weird one.”

“Are you alright?” Medic demanded, already standing up, from his chair, and Scout shrugged again.

“Just bruises and all, it’s not an emergency or whatever, but I’d appreciate a heal or somethin’,” he admitted, and Medic left the room, hurrying towards the infirmary. “Forreal, though, what a fuckin’ night.”

“What’s on your shirt?” Spy asked, entirely deadpan, looking vaguely disgusted.

“Uh, I think it’s a margarita?” Scout said, glancing down at it and picking at his shirt vaguely. “I, uh, I should start from the top. Okay, so I went into town, right? I was just gonna buy some stuff real quick, and I got, uh… I got a little lost.”

“A little? Scooter, you’ve been gone all day!” the Engineer admonished.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. There was construction on the usual road, I think they’re fixin’ a bridge or somethin’. Anyways, I got pretty far off track, but I got to town eventually. Just took a while. Anyways, I do my shopping, but because I was all rattled from havin’ to take a hundred detours I totally forget that there’s this one guy at the store that hates my guts, and I’ve gotta split pretty fast before he knocks some teeth out, y’know?”

“Do we want to know why he hates you?” Demo asked, a bit of humor in his tone.

“Nope,” Scout said simply, grinning right back. “So, yeah, but on my way into town I saw at the bar they have some kinda thing goin’ on, right, some kinda weird drink special. So I figure, hey, I’ll walk in, get the new drink, then I’ll leave, y’know? I don’t wanna have to drive home after dark and drunk. So I order, and as soon as I order some guy who’s been at the bar too long already starts tryin’ to pick a fight with me, right? And it’s a whole thing, and I finally get my drink but now there’s a whole thing, and I kinda make this offhanded comment at this gal nearby, y’know, tryin’ to make sure he knows we’re in a public place, all ‘hey, you’re really gonna embarrass yourself by pick in’ fights right in front of this real pretty girl?’, right?”

“Oh no,” Sniper sighed, already seeing where this was going.

“Well, yeah, bad luck, turns out that’s his girlfriend, and he shoves me into some guy, and I get a whole drink all over me, and mine is all over some third gut, and this whole brawl breaks out—anyways, busted lip and no drink and I’m probably not allowed in that bar anymore, but whatever, I finally start headed home.”

“Right,” Spy said, suspicious.

“And, uh, I never wanna drive at night because there’s all these animals out here, right? And the roads are shitty. And I’m headed back, and it’s dark as dicks, and I think I see this rock and I try and go around it, but then the rock moves back in my way because it’s a lizard or whatever and I hit the breaks and swerve straight into a pothole and just barely manage to keep on my bike, but I donk myself on the handlebars and totally throw my leg out of wack and all that. And, uh, and now I’m here.”

“Christ alive,” the Engineer marvelled.

“Bad day to have,” Heavy said, also stunned.

“Hey, it’ll be a funny story to tell later,” Scout shrugged, still grinning. “Got those new shoes at least, though.”

He pulled a shoebox out of the paper bag, and the box was dented into some kind of new parallelogram, barely resembling its past shape. Scout, meanwhile, was still smiling.

Silence in the room. “Well. While it is unlikely you need any more excitement today,” Spy trailed hesitantly. Pyro, understanding the cue, leapt up and hurried off into the kitchen, coming back with the cake.

“Woah, seriously?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up. “You made me a cake? Mumbles, you’re the best!”

“We, uh… we had more planned, but, some things went a little wrong,” the Engineer admitted, and trailed off as well as he looked at Scout.

“Not that we get to complain,” Demo laughed, seeming to come to the same realization as the Engineer.

“Are you joking? This rules!” Scout said, and lit up further when Medic returned with his Medigun, shaking off his injuries within a few moments. “Hey, thanks guys, seriously, no idea what I did to get such cool teammates. You guys are awesome, I mean it.”

“Dunno how we got a bloke like you, either,” Sniper shrugged, voice quiet compared to the rest of them. “Not many people can laugh after a day like yours and still have the energy to be pleased with anyone.”

“Aw, hey, I mean… y’know, it’s nothing,” Scout shrugged sheepishly, glancing away for a second. “Hey, you guys are playin’ cards? Deal me in! Oh yeah, hold on, we need plates and stuff for cake—“

He dropped his bag near the door and hurried into the kitchen. The room was quiet behind him. Demo held up a party popper, glancing around the room. The Engineer took it from him, shaking his head.

[averyonelovesjack]

learning to raise a baby ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes:)

Can you please do an cute imagine about y/n and Daniel having a baby together and taking care of the baby and figuring the parenting stuff out together. Ur amazing

summary: follow a few different events in the life of daniel and y/n learning to raise a baby.

warning(s): baby, literally too lazy to edit this i’ll come back later lmao

word count: 2608

author’s note: i have such baby fever omg 

disclaimer: i def need to clarify that i am 18 years old and do not have a baby and i have no close friends with babies (in person, at least) therefore this is purely fiction. i watch a LOT (i mean A LOT) of family vloggers and like teen mom accounts raising their kids, so basically all of my knowledge comes from that. i hope no one takes offence to my depiction of it, but my intention is purely just to write this cute fic idea, and i don’t want to pretend like i know anything about parenting or raising a child or anything like that!! okay that’s all!!

I could barely see my feet as I painfully took in another breath of air and started walking forward. Awoken at 3am with terrible back pain and a pool of amniotic fluid at my waist, Daniel and I now rushed to grab our hospital bag and make our way to the labor and delivery section of our nearest hospital. 

everything went so fast. before i was actively having a child, it felt like my pregnancy would never end, but now that it’s actually happening and i’m having a child, it felt like pregnancy flew by.

just a few days ago, i was sitting on the countertop in my bathroom, impatiently waiting to see if i was pregnant or not in hopes that daniel wouldn’t get home from the studio early and find me. i had just given daniel the surprise of his lifetime when i woke him up at four am to tell him i was pregnant because i just couldn’t keep it from him anymore to do a fun reveal. i remember how we both cried, too excited to even go back to sleep. 

just a few days ago, daniel and i were sitting in my obstetrician’s office as we got to hear our eight week old fetus’ heartbeat for the first time. we both cried. it feels like just a day or two ago we cut into a pink colored cake and found out that our precious baby girl would be coming. all of the breakdowns about what stroller to buy and which crib matches the nursey best felt like just moments ago. and now, all of a sudden, i’m ten hours into labor and i’m ready to push.

pushing was painful, but the thought of holding a sweet babygirl soon just kept me going. daniel squeezed my hand tight, standing by the end of the bed watching our beautiful daughter make her way into the world.

i gave the final push and soon i heard a cry that made everything in the whole world worth it. they say you never truly understand love until you’ve had a child, and as soon as i held our daughter, i felt an overwhelming sense of truth in that statement. i never knew such a distinct moment could be the greatest day of my life, but as soon as i laid my eyes on her, i knew that i would never get a day greater than this one. 

our daughter laid on my chest for a while as daniel sat by my head, holding both my hand and hers. eventually, the nurses cleaned her off a bit and wrapped her tightly in a swaddle for daniel to finally hold his daughter. i watched the tears fall from his bluer than ever eyes that never left her little face. by the way she settled in his arms and fell asleep, i knew i was going to have a daddy’s little girl on our hands. 

it felt like forever, just watching daniel and our baby getting to know each other. soon enough, though, the doctors finished with the stitches and i heard a knock at the door. 

within seconds, both of our parents came into the room, bearing wide smiles. daniel sat in the seat next to me, both of us staring at the beautiful baby in front of us. 

“does she have a name?” keri asks, slowly walking up to the two of us, careful not to be too loud. 

daniel and i look at each other, and then i give him the nod to tell everyone. “callista avery mae seavey.”

“our little baby callie.” i smile at the name. daniel and i both loved the name callie, but wanted it to be a nickname. avery was after his bandmate who really helped us through this whole preparing to be parents thing. mae was a pretty nickname from my side of the family that was good to separate avery and seavey. our little callie mae. 

***

it was three am and both of us were awake to callie’s loud screaming. turns out that daniel and i had a very colicky daughter who, when awake, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. daniel was in the nursery trying to grab more diapers and wipes that, out of exhaustion, we forgot to restock last night when we ran out. i held callie in our arms, rocking her gently and trying to get her to go back to sleep. 

“does she have a dirty diaper?” daniel asks, placing the diapers in the corner of our messy bedroom. a few days into callie’s life, we realized we should’ve left the changing table in our bedroom until she was ready to sleep in the nursey, but both of us were too tired to even think about moving the furniture around. so for now the corner of the room was storage and a changing pad on the bench was our late night changing table. 

“i don’t think so.” i answer, giving him an exhausted look. “her diaper isn’t heavy and i tried to feed her, but she doesn’t seem to be hungry. i think she just woke up and is being colicky again.”

“how long did the doctor say the colic will last?” daniel asks. 

“she didn’t.” i sigh, going to take a seat on our bed as i continued to calm callie. daniel sat beside me. “go back to sleep, i got her.”

“no, i know you’ve been awake all night. try to go to sleep, i’ve got her.” daniel says, and then takes callie from me. “did you take melatonin tonight?”

“yeah.” i say. “i know your body goes through a lot of changes postpartum, but i’m really not liking the insomnia.”

“okay, well, you lay down, and i’m gonna sing to you both, okay?” daniel says and then starts to rock callie to sleep as i laid beside them. and then he started to sing softly. 

***

callie was born a little over three months ago and daniel and i haven’t had a date night since then. when we fearfully realized that last week, jack and anna were both quick to offer some help. we hadn’t felt comfortable leaving callie yet, especially since she wasn’t always the easiest. we had lots of help and people offering, but neither daniel nor i were good at asking for help. that’s definitely something we’re both still working on, especially now that we have a baby. 

finally though, jack and anna convinced us. originally, we were going to leave them with daniel’s parents, but anna and jack were pretty convincing. jack had lots of experience since he himself is a dad, and anna was very close with gabbie when she had lavender. jack also decided to invite zach for some more company, which was cute.

daniel and i had a hard time saying goodbye to callie, even though we really were only going to be out for two hours at most. we knew neither of us could stay away for that long. 

the restaurant wasn’t too far from the house, which was nice because it cut down on our time away from callie. i think both of us were a little nervous to leave her. we both know that she’s three months old and other people are more than capable of watching her for a few hours, but it’s still hard to not be worried about all of the things we could be missing out on.

“oh my gosh, anna just sent a picture of callie.” daniel says in the middle of our dinner, holding up his phone to show up me the picture of our daughter in the adorable pajamas her aunt bought. 

“i miss her.” i admit, knowing he was feeling similarly. “do you think they had a hard time getting her to sleep? i hope she’ll be good for them tonight.”

“i’m sure she was fine.” daniel says, then later . “you know, maybe we should skip dessert. relieve them a little early.”

“she’s growing up so fast.” i tell him. “i’m not ready for her to keep growing.”

“we’re gonna blink and she’s gonna be cursing us out because we wouldn’t let her go out with her friends.” daniel continues. “not that we would do that, because honestly, i’ve always thought we’d be a little cooler than that.”

i laugh at his comment. “oh, we’ll definitely be cooler than that. we’re not gonna be the lame strict parents that doesn’t let their kids go out with their friends.”

“oh definitely.” daniel agrees. “except i will be strict about doors open if someone is over. i don’t care who she’s in her room with, but that door better be open. i am taking no chances.”

“i feel like that’s fair.” i add. “i know we’re parents, but wow, until i think about that future, i kind of forget.”

“i’m very glad that’s a long ways away.” he comments. “i’m barely ready for her to be three months old, we do not need to get ahead of ourselves. take this parenting thing one step at a time.”

“i could not agree more.” i smile, leaning over the table to kiss daniel’s lips gently. 

***

i walked out of my one year old’s nursery with her in my arms. we watched as daniel and anna hung balloons up around our california apartment. it’s just about an hour before callie’s first birthday party, and now more than ever, i could not be more grateful for daniel’s family’s offer to help us set up. 

rather than fighting with figuring out food for the party, we decided to get it catered. christian and tyler offered to go pick up the food at the restaurant for us, which was extremely helpful. his parents were setting up some decorations around the front of the apartment. 

i had just put callie in her adorable dress that i specifically picked out for this party. we weren’t the type to throw parties, so we weren’t 100% sure what to do or what to expect, but we decided to just stick to family and close friends. callie was too young for us to strictly invite her friends over. at this stage in her life, her friends were whoever was at mommy&me that week. 

the party was going to be small. daniel’s family, my family, daniel’s bandmates and close friends, and then my close friends. 

thankfully, we finished decorating and setting up with about thirty minutes left to spare before the party. rather than worry, i decided to just sit on the couch with anna and daniel. keri took callie from me, wanting to spend some time with her granddaughter, and giving daniel and i a brief break before the party started. 

“i cannot believe she’s a year old.” anna exclaims to me. “you guys have been parents for a year. that’s crazy to think about.”

“it’s definitely a little bit weird.” i giggle in response. 

“you guys make it look so easy, being young parents.” anna says. “i know i’m younger than you guys, but still, i cannot imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

“i didn’t think i would either.” i tell anna. “for me, i wasn’t really ready until i met dani. i realized that i was ready because i wanted to do this with him. it’s different for everyone, i’m sure, but at least personally, that’s how i knew we could be parents.”

daniel wraps his arm around me on the couch, kissing my cheek softly. “yeah, it’s the same for me. when you find someone you want to do everything with, it gets easier to imagine yourself parenting together.”

“that is really cute.” anna says. “this is what i mean, when i say you make it look easy!!”

“it’s definitely not easy.” i laugh. “but it’s a little bit easier when you work as a team. we talk things through and decide together, instead of just making decisions separately. it’s a lot easier to feel like you’re making the right decision when you talk things through.”

“and that is all the parenting advice you get, because while i am most definitely ready to be a dad, i am not ready to be an uncle.” daniel says, getting protective over his younger sister. 

“being an uncle is way easier than being a dad.” anna laughs. “but trust me, i’m not having kids any time soon. at least not intentionally.”

“well, i have to be the cool uncle. someone’s gotta bail the kid out of jail and hide it from you.” daniel jokes.

“first of all, why would my kid go to jail??” anna asks. “and second of all, you might’ve been first in the race for cool uncle before callie arrived, but since becoming a dad, you’ve fallen behind. the cool uncle can’t have kids, that’s not how that works.”

“well i’ll break that standard, because i’ll be the cool uncle.” 

“i just want to be the aunt that gives good advice at one o’clock in the morning.” i tell them. “someone’s gotta do it. i expect that for callie, anna, so i will do that for your kids.”

“oh, of course. nothing but the best for callie. and future kids.” anna agrees. “speaking of, future kids? any thoughts on that? mom wants me to scope that out.”

“eventually.” i smile. “sooner rather than later.”

***

daniel took callie on a walk. he’s been really adamant about spending at least thirty minutes a day on a walk with her. now that she’s getting a lot more balance and ability to take a lot more steps, he loves taking her to the playground a few blocks from our apartment. usually, i like to go with them, but today i made up an excuse about things i had to get done at home.

i felt especially grateful for that routine of his today, because i needed a few minutes to myself. i’ve been feeling particularly nauseated recently, and as soon as i woke up the other day, i could feel that i was pregnant again. in the past, i had always thought that when i was paranoid about being late, but now that i’ve actually experienced pregnancy, i can feel that there’s a little fetus inside of me.

daniel and i haven’t exactly been trying, but we haven’t been taking as many precautions as we were when callie was first born. now that she’s over a year old, we feel better about having another baby. we weren’t too rushed, because we lot spending time with just our little girl, but we didn’t want to wait too long and have her grow up without a sibling. having a sibling was always a priority of daniel and i’s. seeing as we both grew up with siblings, we know how important it is to have a sibling. 

my stomach fluttered with butterflies as i followed the instructions on the pregnancy test. after realizing i was pregnant with callie, i had bought a ton of tests that i didn’t end up using because it was so obvious that i was indeed pregnant. that was extremely helpful for right now when i don’t have time to go sit in traffic for thirty minutes just to go to the pharmacy. 

i sat on top of the counter, leaving the pregnancy test face down while i tried to scroll through tiktok and distract myself. it was probably the slowest five minutes of my life, other than finding out about callie. 

the timer went off on my phone. i take a deep breath and carefully lift the pregnancy test off the marble bathroom counter.

pregnant. 

[clareguilty]

Food for the Heart

My first July commission fic! Thanku to Chip for helping look things over <3 Soldier 76 & Reaper & Jesse McCree & F!Reader Rating: General | Pre-Fall of Overwatch, fluff Word Count: ~3500

Sometimes -- if you thought about it -- the fact that you had some of the highest security clearance in the entirety of the UN, as well as several major militaries, could make your palms sweat and your heart pound. Imposter syndrome sure was a bitch.

You would look out on all of the heroes and saviors and geniuses of the world, unsure of how you managed to fit in and even sit at the same table as Director Petras and Strike Commander Morrison himself.

People wouldn’t stop in the halls to salute you or turn to you for input. Many of your colleagues didn’t even seem to know your name. You were nothing but background to them, just the hand that delivered documents or typed along to broadcasts. It was enough to trick you into believing you didn’t belong.

But there was a reason you were sat at the table with the most influential people in the world. There was a reason that your office was in the same wing as the other heroes of Overwatch. And you had earned your place there -- a fact you had to remind yourself of over and over again as Commander Reyes and Commander Morrison swept by your desk every morning or as Captain Amari chatted with Lieutenant Wilhelm within earshot of your workspace. Occasionally, you would even come back from lunch to find that a cowboy and a ninja had commandeered your desktop and your office chair, respectively.

You were invisible to them. Silent and unassuming. Blending in so seamlessly to the environment that they didn’t seem to notice you were there -- which is how you heard everything. Listening was your job, after all. You were a linguist, responsible for interpreting and translating any documents or meetings or broadcasts that passed through the upper command chain. You had access to the highest security channels, writing down field notes and debriefs for anyone on base who needed them.

Fluent in 14 human languages and 3 Omnic communication systems, you were one of the most valuable assets Overwatch had. Your work during the crisis had earned you a rank and pension that looked like a mistake on all your paperwork. Surely someone as plain as you couldn’t be that powerful?

And the work hadn’t finished after the crisis. You had been swept along into the ranks and shipped off to Zurich to spend your days listening to every piece of information that needed your ears.

And you heard everything.

You heard Captain Amari talking about her daughter and Lieutenant Wilhelm lamenting his losses on the battlefield, Jesse McCree joking and ribbing with Agent Shimada, who barely ever responded when you were within earshot. You overheard Strike Commander Morrison laughing with his friends and hurling orders and sighing over paperwork, Commander Reyes growling and grumbling and occasionally giving a full-bellied laugh when someone made a fool of themselves.

But no one ever seemed to speak directly to you unless they were requesting something or saying thank you. Your days were spent surrounded by people who would lay down their lives for one another but didn’t even seem to notice as you came and went.

It was certainly lonely, being in an unfamiliar country on a foreign base, working long hours in the fruitless business of world peace. You would return to your tiny apartment in the evenings -- luxurious, but small -- and try and make the most of your life of prestige and success and heroism. You had made the space cozy and perfect since you found yourself with more money than you knew what to do with. Your family had retired to one of the nicest homes you could buy them, and you still couldn’t get rid of the stuff.

So you spent your evenings cooking and baking exquisite dishes with expensive ingredients. You had gotten rather good at it. Any time someone on base mentioned a dish that they liked, you made sure to jot it down for later. Every night you indulged in food from all over the world that you had made with your own two hands.

But you found yourself with a lot of leftovers.

You were all alone in Zurich, with just a few friends in other parts of the organization that you only got to see when the stars were perfectly aligned. There was no way you could eat all this food.

So you started leaving gifts for the high command.

Strike Commander Morrison was the one who had given you the idea to make the pie in the first place. He had complained about how much he missed the sweet from his hometown, and you had found a recipe that sounded like what he described.

You wrapped a few slices up as nicely as you could and slipped them onto his desk just before he came in one morning.

The only thing you hadn’t counted on was just how invisible you truly were.

Commander Morrison made a sound of surprise when he saw the sparkling clear wrapping paper and curled ribbons. He poked his head out of his office and glanced around. No one else had come in yet, and you were already hard at work transcribing some Omnic signals that had been intercepted.

He asked Captain Amari about it when she arrived a few minutes later.

“You can’t trust random packages that appear on your desk, Jack. You should have reported a security breach immediately. Where is it? We’ll have to send it down for examination.”

Commander Morrison looked sheepish. “I ate them already.”

Captain Amari whacked him upside the head.

“I skipped breakfast!” he whined. “And it was absolutely delicious. It tasted just like home.”

Hearing those words was enough. You didn’t care that the Strike Commander was a fool who didn’t seem to notice your presence. He had enjoyed your treat, and that was all the reward you needed.

You continued to leave sweets for the high command whenever you could. You were sure at some point they would realize it was you, but they never said anything.

Cookies. Sweet breads. Cakes. Candied fruits. Pastries. You were improving as a baker at an alarming rate, considering you had nothing to do in your free time but replicate the recipes all the soldiers on base missed from back home.

The Strike Commander, Lieutenant Wilhelm, and Agent McCree were the most shameless about indulging in your gifts. The other captains and officers partook as well. You had never even seen Agent Shimada eat, though he would gently wrap a small portion to take back to his quarters, and Torbjorn would always wrinkle his nose and scoff at the sweets, but you didn’t miss him slipping a few into his pockets for later.

Despite how much you were making and sharing, there was one person whom you never got the chance to cook for. Everyone else had mentioned a dessert offhand at some point or another, only to find the exact treat waiting for them the next day. Even Agent Shimada had mentioned a fluffy cheesecake once, though he took his portion back to his quarters to eat it. Only one person eluded your gifts, and you were patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike.

You were up to your neck in transcriptions when you finally got your chance. Something you could cook for Commander Reyes.

It was just him, Agent McCree, and the Strike Commander. You were tucked away at your desk as always, invisible to everyone but listening attentively.

“Can’t believe I was in Mexico for a week and spent the whole time camped out in the jungle. I would have killed somebody for a good churro.” Commander Reyes grumbled.

“You did kill people, boss. A lot of people.” Agent McCree had his boots on the table and was grinning around an unlit cigarillo.

“You watch your mouth,” the commander snapped, but his shoulders shook with laughter.

Churros. Authentic Mexican churros. You could certainly do your best to make some and leave them for the Blackwatch commander.

It only took a few tries to get them how you wanted them, and you strolled into the high command offices the following day with a beautifully wrapped box.

Commander Reyes didn’t have a desk in the command wing, but you knew he would be by early. You left the box on the same table Agent McCree was sitting at yesterday and got to work while you waited for everyone else to arrive.

Commander Morrison lit up in excitement when he saw the enormous box waiting on the table, but, after a peek inside, he realized who the sweets were for and didn’t take any. It would have been fine. You had made plenty enough for everyone.

Captain Amari wasn’t as enthusiastic as the Strike Commander, but she let her curiosity get the best of her and gently pried open the box as well. She smirked, and you could have sworn you saw her glance your way, but you were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as you listened to a diplomatic summit presentation.

At last, Commander Reyes made his appearance. He didn’t hesitate to go straight for the box on the table, lifting the lid and inspecting the contents with an impassive expression. He was completely unreadable as you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

Delicately, he lifted one of the churros out of the box and took a bite. He chewed for a moment, brows furrowed. You wished he would say something. Instead, you saw the tension in his shoulders ease just a little, and you knew you had done an good job.

And that was the end of it -- so you thought. Commander Reyes shared the churros, and everyone else remarked that they were delicious. The rest of the day carried on as usual.

Until you found yourself alone again. Even when they were on base, it wasn’t uncommon for Commander Morrison and Captain Amari to spend most of the day away from their offices. But now, even the other captains and assistants were gone, and it was totally silent.

Commander Reyes strolled into the command wing with his hands in his pockets. You didn’t think anything of it until he came right up to your desk, taking a seat on the edge.

“They were delicious,” he said, watching you intently.

So he knew it was you. He had probably had known for a while. The Blackwatch commander rarely let anything slip by him.

“Thank you, Sir,” you answered, not able to look him in the eye. “When did you figure it out?”

“You made salted caramel cookies for McCree. Cheesecake for Shimada. I need to know who is eavesdropping on my agent’s conversations.”

You flinched at that. “I only had the best intentions.” You chewed your lip. “The gifts were meant to be harmless.”

Commander Reyes chuckled. “You sure harmed Jack’s diet. The man has a sweet tooth and no spine. Put a dessert in front of him, and he can’t say no.”

“He doesn’t need to be on a diet, anyway. You’re all built like Greek gods,” you rolled your eyes. Then the reality of what you had said set in, and you were panicking in your seat. Leaving treats for your superior officers was only mildly questionable. Ogling their physiques and daydreaming about their strong arms was far less appropriate.

“I mean no disrespect, Sir,” you started to ramble. “I spoke out of line, and it wasn’t my place to say anything. Please just forget I ever opened my mouth.”

Commander Reyes laughed again, fuller this time as he leaned back on your desk. “It’s clear you’ve heard everything said in this office. You think that’s going to get you in trouble?” He was right. Conversations among the officers were far from professional. You had heard your share of inappropriate comments and spicy stories.

You looked at your hands in your lap. This was overwhelming. You were so used to being invisible. Now, the commander was confronting you, watching you closely and chatting as if it was nothing. You weren’t sure you had ever exchanged casual conversation with the Blackwatch commander.

“Why do you hide?” he asked. “Leave everything in secret and never speak up? We all know by now, anyway.”

You didn’t really have an answer for him. Maybe you didn’t feel worthy? Maybe you were shy? Neither of those explanations felt quite right.

“I never meant to hide. When I made the pie for Commander Morrison, he didn’t even seem to consider that I could have been the one to leave it. I know I’m practically invisible around here, anyway.” You shrugged. No one paid attention to a quiet linguist. Your voice was only used to relay the messages of other people.

“You’re not invisible. Not to us. We see you every day. Maybe it’s time that you let us give you a gift, what do you say? We definitely should have shown our appreciation sooner.” Commander Reyes held out his hand, eyes kinder than you had ever seen.

“I don’t- What do you mean?” you asked.

Impatient as always, the commander simply grabbed your wrist and pulled you to your feet. “I’m the boss, so you’re coming with me.” He dragged you out of the offices and towards what you recognized to be the high command quarters. You couldn’t disobey a direct order from your superior, so you stumbled along as quickly as you could.

While your apartment was in a cute little residential building on the other end of base, the high command quarters were housed in a higher security building connected to the command center via a series of secure walkways. Reyes simply keyed in a code and ushered you across the glass skyway.

“Sir, I don’t believe I have clearance to access the command living quarters,” you tried to warn him.

“You have access as Jack’s guest.” He answered as if that would explain anything. Why would you be the Strike Commander’s guest?

Commander Reyes pulled to a stop in front of a door with a mailbox outside labeled 3001. He rapped his knuckles on the metal door, tapping his foot as there was the sound of scrambling inside, and the door slid open. Agent McCree was grinning on the other side.

“You came!” He stepped forward and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting you off the ground and setting you down inside what you assumed to be the Strike Commander’s quarters. “Jack and I were worried Gabe would scare you away.”

“He scared me, that’s for sure. What am I doing here?” You couldn’t keep yourself from looking around the apartment. It was nice, comfortable, with state-of-the-art appliances and plenty of space for more than one person. Much larger than your own apartment.

McCree looked offended. “You didn’t tell her anything? Did you just abduct her from her desk like some kind of madman?”

“No,” Gabe said at the exact same time you said, “Yes.”

The cowboy rolled his eyes. He took one of your hands in both of his and, with the most earnest expression, begged for your forgiveness. “The three of us wanted to say thank you for all the sweets you’ve been baking lately. Those churros were absolutely amazing, so we all pitched in to make dinner for you. Gabe was supposed to ask politely if you would join us. It would make my whole world if you did.”

You weren’t sure how you could say no to something so sweet. Agent McCree was certainly scruffy and rough around the edges at times, but you couldn’t deny he was a true gentleman, unlike his boss.

You nodded, and McCree pulled you in for another hug. “Atta girl! Jack should be back in just a moment. He had to borrow some stuff from Ana.”

Sure enough, the Strike Commander appeared just a moment late with an arm full of cookware and ingredients. He was dressed down to a faded t-shirt and his combat uniform pants with an apron. When he set everything down on the counter, you realized the apron was printed with the warning “hot stuff coming through,” and you couldn’t hide your snort of laughter.

“Ana got it for him as a gift. Jack has been our barbecue guy for the past five years now.” Reyes explained.

“I like it,” you grinned. “It’s accurate.”

You had never seen the Strike Commander blush. He fumbled with the container he was prying open. “Supper was supposed to be ready by the time you got here, but I don’t always keep cooking stuff here. We’ve got snacks and drinks, and Jesse will probably make you watch something terrible with him on the TV.”

You nodded. “Thank you for all of this, Sirs.”

“Woah, woah,” McCree held up his hands. “None of that shit around here. We do first names around here only, or embarrassing nicknames.”

You were extremely thankful for McCree- Jesse. He had a way of making you feel perfectly at ease even though you were so far out of your element. “Come on, I’m gonna show you some classic films while they cook.” He wrapped a hand around your waist and led you to the couch, flicking through the menu on the wall-sized screen. You had seen how much physical affection the high command shared, and you assumed it came from trust on the battlefield. But it seemed the comfort and intimacy extended to you as well.

“Do you need help in the kitchen?” You asked the Strike Commander.

“Absolutely not,” he winked at you. “You’ve cooked far too much for all of us, and it’s our turn to make it up to you. Your job is to keep Jesse out of the kitchen.”

The cowboy grinned at you. “They say I’m a hazard.”

You nodded. “I can see that.” Gathering all of your courage, you nestled into his side on the couch. He threw an arm around your shoulders easily and selected a movie. “What are we watching?”

“Seven Samurai. Genji showed it to me. Did you know that 1900’s cowboy movies and 1900’s samurai movies are like the same thing? He’s the only one who appreciates my Eastwood classics.”

Reyes chimed in from the kitchen. “For a bunch of assassins, it turns out my entire squadron is made up of nerds.”

“And you’re the Head Nerd. King of all Nerds.” Morrison knocked him with an elbow. “We’ve seen your Halloween costumes.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Commander Reyes is a nerd?”

“Gabe,” Jesse corrected you, “is the biggest nerd of them all. He likes musicals.”

You were smiling widely now. You had been so lonely in Zurich, and now you were being included in teasing and movies and dinner with three of the most powerful men in Overwatch.

Comman- Gabe must have finished his part of the prep work because he sprawled out on the couch on your other side. It felt so nice to be sandwiched between them as the movie played. Jesse’s fingers absently played with your hair, and Gabe’s thigh pressed against your own.

Dinner didn’t take very long at all, and the four of you sat down at Jack’s dining table. There were casseroles, baked potatoes, roasted meat, and vegetables. You made sure to put a little bit of everything on your plate.

“I wasn’t sure what your favorites are, so we made a Morrison family dinner. A taste of the American Midwest.” Jack smiled sheepishly.

“It’s great!” you loved seeing this glimpse of the Strike Commander’s home.

“Next time, I’ll have to show you how we did it in LA,” Gabe was already digging in. “Jack’s Aunt Cindy is an excellent cook, but my sister knows how to make the best tamales.”

You were already putting together a menu based on what your family used to cook. It would be so much fun to treat them to the same meals you had grown up eating.

Jesse cocked his head. “I didn’t eat much as a kid that didn’t come out of a can or a box, but Ana has showed me how to make some things over the years. We’ll have to get her to cook one night.”

The implication that this was only the first of many more nights to come, your heart felt so warm and fuzzy. You tried to hide your blush as you ate.

After finishing dinner, you attempted to help wash up and found yourself forcibly removed from the kitchen by Gabe. “Stop trying to help and just let us treat you.”

And so you found yourself back snuggled up on the couch between them as the movie finished. They were so affectionate, pulling you against them and wrapping their arms around you. It felt natural. You had been working in the same office as them for years, hearing all of their conversations and watching them care for each other. Now, instead of an invisible bystander, you were a part of the family. But you had never truly been invisible. Clearly, everyone else had always considered you as one of them.

You must have dozed off at some point because Jack gently shook you awake. “Jesse can walk you back to your place,” he pushed a container of leftovers into your hand and wrapped you in a hug. “Don’t hide so much from now on, ok?”

You nodded. “Next time, you have to let me help cook.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Re Pay

MOVIE: NOWHERE BOY COUPLE: PAUL X READER RATING: FLIRTY AF

I smiled as I walked down the little path over to the strong door, I knocked as usual and soon enough I heard tussling and moving from within. And the door opened

"Y/n, hi." Paul smiled putting a hand thought his hair leaning his hip on the doorframe "you uhh your earlier then I expected" he blushed

"Good traffic" I shrug

"Course yeah uhh go on up" he smiled letting me in I began to climb his stairs and instantly I felt eyes on me but I was used to it Incase it was already drastically obviously to every human on the planet I think Paul has a crush on me? It had been clear to me since I knew him and honestly john's told me a few times. But it didn't bother me infact I kinda liked him too but I knew nothing could come of it and I didn't want people to make fun of him about it. Infact almost three or so older than paul but he got bumped up a year and it all just kinda figured out that we ended up around each other at school so we became fairly good freinds even if I knew about his crush on me. I got up to his room and noticed his unmade bed and a few things scattered about he rushed up behind me and quickly game in "ohh uhh sorry about the mess. I uhh I was up late this morning" he blushed quickly fixing the bed and offering it to me as there was little other places to sit. I happily sat and he sat down beside me getting his guitar. We sat working on this and that for a while until it started to get late

"Thank you for all your help paul"

"Oh no worries, I like to help you out" he smiled putting his guitar away "I uhh I like doing music stuff with you, your voice is beautiful" he cooed

"Aww your to sweet. But still I feel I should give you something for the time atleast" I smiled going for my purse

"Y/n no. Your my friend I couldn't charge you like some kids music lesson" he laughs

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure"

"Anything?"

"Wh- what do you mean anything?"

"Like I could make you a cake for next time? Or drive you somewhere? Or buy you a beer?"

"I can buy beer, I'm only two years younger then you y/n I can buy beer"

"When your with John because they I'd him and assume your the same age"

"... True. But I can't help having a young face"

"I know, so... you want me to buy you beer?"

"No"

"Isn't there anything you want? Anything at all?"

"..... Honestly?"

"You always have to be honest with me" I warn him

"Could uhh... no uhh nothing ignore me"

"What is it?"

"Could I, maybe. Hold your hand?"

"You wanna hold my hand?"

"Yeah"

"Aww that's so sweet" I giggled happily taking his hand "you ever had a girl hold your hand before?"

"Uhh no." He blushed "it's nice though" he smiled squeezing my hand ever so often and stroking my skin a little

I giggled a little at how sweet it was the offer of anything and all he wanted was to hold my hand "paul? I need to get going"

"Ohh right course" he nods taking his hand away I smiled taking it again and getting up holding his hand the whole way down to his door "so uhh I'll see you next week then?"

"Next week" I smiled seperating our hands "and you have another think about payment, so you have some ideas for next week" I smiled moving a little to stand on his step and I gave his lips a tiny peek making him slightly jump blushing hard I tapped his nose and smiled "bye paul"

"...bye" he blushed so I went down the path and out the gate going towards my car when he bolted down the path and jumped the gate "y/n."

"Yes?"

"Could... could I have another kiss?"

"Just one" I smiled giving him a little kiss this time he kissed back a little barely even a few seconds before I pulled back "see you next week" I smiled before getting in my car

"Yeah I uhhh I umm I'll see you" he blushed.

I smiled as I parked up I noticed him perched on his fence waiting for me, he saw my car and blushed hard jumping off the fence as I climbed out "hey"

"Hey" I smiled

"You uhh you look nice"

"Thanks, you look... nicely dressed for you" I laughed noticing how good his clothes where not like overdressed but clean, presentable, and very much looking like he was going on a date.

"Yeah I uhh I wanted to make the effort" he shrugs happily letting me in and we went up to his room "so uhh before we start can I ask you something?"

"Sure?"

"Could uhh maybe, we do a little something before we get into the music stuff?"

"Like what?"

"Like maybe?" He blushed his little finger gently stroking my hand gently suggesting so I laughed a little and took his hand

"If you wanna hold my hand paul it's fine just hold my hand" I giggled

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do"

"Could uhh could I kiss you again? I umm I really like kissing you"

"Do you?"

"Umm" he nods

"Honest" I warn

"I uhh I really really enjoyed your kisses. I umm... I couldn't stop thinking about them all night, and uhh and all week" he blushed

"That all you did about my kisses? Think about them?"

"... Well I may have uhh, done a little practice before you came over"

"Practice?"

"Kissing my pillow" he blushed "I wanted to be better at it so if you did kiss me again I'd be... better, I mean I'd never kissed a girl before"

"You did great, you don't have to practice in your pillow paul"

"Then how am I meant to get better?"

"Other sorts of practice" I smiled tapping his chin a little "well I'm curious now come on I wanna see what you've been practicing"

"Yeah?"

"Of course"

He blushed but moved closer giving my lips a little kiss, I kissed back gently which made him slowly press another kiss to my lips, so I pushed back against his kiss letting him work against my lips, he slightly turned his head his pushy kisses getting a little faster and deeper until our little kisses became a snog just without tounge

"Paul?' I muttered against his lips as he didn't want to pull away

"Umm?"

"Don't you think its music time?"

"... Umm five more minutes" he muttered

"Come on music. Or no more kisses' I laughed pushing him away

"Sorry, guess I got a little... into it"

"Overexcited I believe is the word your looking for" I smirked noticing the tent in his jeans

"Oh! I'm so so sorry"

"It's fine, nothing wrong with getting excited paul," I smiled giving his cheek a kiss he nodded sheepishly and got his guitar sitting and doing our usual stuff even if I made an effort to grace his hand much more often and get close to his face often when I did he would slightly close his eyes and pout expecting kisses but I always pulled back without giving him any till we where done for the day

"So, all done"

"Yeah I need to be getting back"

"Course yeah, I don't wanna keep you" he blushed "but uhh you know if you wanted I wouldn't mind you coming over more then once a week" he smiled taking my hand "infact I wouldn't mind you coming over and us uhh not doing music, maybe sometimes you could come over and we can just... hang out and, stuff"

"Hang out?"

"And stuff"

"Well see paul" I smiled getting my things and going down to my car

"I'll uhh see you around then"

"See you around" I smiled giving him a kiss and getting in my car to head home.

[chierafied]

What Wouldn’t I Do For You

1.7 k words of unproofread randomness because my enablers enabled me.

For @inuvember Day 24, Family.

Kagome had been Inuyasha's best friend since middle school.

By this point, she was like family – except Sesshoumaru's feelings for her hadn't been exactly familial for several years now.

He'd suppressed and hidden those feelings away, refused to acknowledge them.

But much as he loved Rin, she would never have persuaded Sesshoumaru into such ridiculousness if those unwanted, unrequited, inappropriate feelings for his younger half-brother's best friend weren't there.

Of course, while he did not expect anything from Kagome and would never presume to act on those damn inconvenient feelings, with this stunt he would surely ruin all his meagre chances forever.

Rin was five and had recently come to the conclusion that princesses were the best thing ever and that ballet dancers were basically real-life princesses.

The pink tutu Kagome had got Rin for her last birthday was her very favourite thing to wear, and if Rin could decide (and Sesshoumaru was forced to admit to his shame that she got to decide much too often) she would be wearing it and pretending to be a princess ballerina 24/7.

So, it shouldn’t have come as a huge shock to Sesshoumaru, that when he gently suggested to Rin that they should do something nice for Kagome, like buy her a gift and make a nice card, Rin’s thoughts had turned to ballerinas.

Solemnly, she’d informed Sesshoumaru that while gifts and cards were nice, she had something much better in mind.

They should invite Kagome over, Rin had told him. They would do dress up and have a tea party together. And then they would have a special show for Kagome.

Sesshoumaru had his doubts about this entire plan, of course. But then nothing would as effectively take Kagome’s mind off of the loss of her grandfather than a day spent indulging Rin.

Then again, he hadn’t factored in two things when he had given Rin the green light: that he would, himself, have to participate in this “special show”, and that Rin had his wardrobe all ready and picked out for him.

Kagome accepted the invitation gladly.

When the doorbell rang and Rin rushed to the door to let their guest in, Sesshoumaru noted that Kagome’s blue eyes looked bruised, the smile she offered Rin a little hollow.

“Welcome, Kagome-nee-chan!” Rin gushed, fiercely hugging Kagome’s legs.

“Hello, Rin-chan. Thank you so much for inviting me,” Kagome replied, ruffling the girl’s head.

Sesshoumaru stepped forward as Rin sped away towards her room.

He wanted to hug so bad – and for precisely that same reason did not give her one.

“How have you been?” he asked, his low voice laced with concern.

“Not great,” Kagome said, offering another wan smile. “One day at a time, right?”

Sesshoumaru only had time to nod, and then Rin was back.

Beaming, she proffered her favourite plastic tiara to Kagome.

“Here! You’re the princess today!”

That lured a little laugh out of Kagome. “Am I? How wonderful!”

With great care, she placed the tiara on top of her dark hair.

Rin took her hand, reached for Sesshoumaru’s next.

“Let’s play dress up!”

Over her head, Sesshoumaru’s gaze met Kagome’s and he offered her a wry smile. “Let’s.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 Losing her grandfather had not come as a huge shock. His health had not been the greatest for a while, and he had been getting on the years. Her whole family had known it was coming, and yet… He had been the first family member she had lost since her father.

So for a while, life had seemed to dull into grey numbness.

When the invitation had arrived, it had shocked a smile out of her.

For one, Kagome had not expected an invitation from Sesshoumaru. Secondly, he had obviously given Rin free hands with it, as the invitation had been pink and decorated with copious amounts of flower stickers and glitter.

The fancy handwriting inviting her to a tea party and a dance recital was all Sesshoumaru’s, though.

Her heart had fluttered with anticipation, for the first time since her world had grown grey.

And so far, Kagome hadn’t been disappointed.

When Rin had offered the pink tutu and feather boa for Sesshoumaru at the very beginning of their dress up game, Kagome hadn’t quite managed to stifle her giggle.

She’d been pleasantly surprised when Sesshoumaru had accepted the items without complaint and put them on. He looked ridiculous, but Kagome’s heart also melted a little at how wonderful he was with Rin, how willing to engage with her and the things she enjoyed.

How many dads played dress up with their daughters?

Besides, Sesshoumaru could make that pink feather boa work.

Grinning from ear to ear, Kagome added her own touch by placing a flower crown on Sesshoumaru’s head, earning a raised eyebrow.

Rin had donned a set of fairy-wings and was now digging through her jewellery box, handing a plethora of bright plastic bead necklaces out to Kagome.

She obediently draped them over her neck.

Kagome found a sparkly scarf which she tied around her neck to serve as a cape. Princesses should have capes.

Then, Rin got out her makeup. All kids stuff, in bright colours. Her brown eyes were dancing with delight and Kagome silently thought that she must be the sweetest kid ever.

Sesshoumaru, however, groaned aloud.

He had good cause, because Rin didn't enthusiastically begin to apply makeup on herself, but focused her efforts on her father.

Kagome slapped a hand over her mouth so as not to laugh outright as Sesshoumaru sat patiently and with only the faintest frown creasing his brow as Rin hummed and smeared lines of magenta red on his cheeks with her chubby fingers.

Mischief sparkled inside Kagome then, and when Rin pulled back, she announced it was her turn, holding her hand out for the makeup palette.

Rin beamed at her as she passed it over.

Sesshoumaru sighed but offered no protest or complaint.

Kagome studied her choices, finally deciding on magenta eyeshadow matching the stripes Rin had drawn.

"Close your eyes," Kagome told Sesshoumaru, scooting closer.

He rolled his eyes first, but did close them, and sat perfectly still while Kagome carefully applied the eyeshadow on him.

"You can open now," she told him once she was done.

Oddly enough, it seemed to suit him, it made his eyes seem a bit lighter, a bit brighter. Like molten pools of gold.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another.

Then, Kagome hastily turned her attention to the makeup palette.

"Now, for a final touch!" she declared, trying for a joke.

She chose another eyeshadow, this one a glittery blue.

On a whim, she traced a crescent moon on Sesshoumaru's forehead, biting her lip in concentration.

“There,” she whispered, leaning back. “Perfect.”

And somehow, it really was.

“Right then,” Sesshoumaru murmured. He slanted a glance at Rin. “I think we’re ready for the tea party.”

 Kagome gushed over the selection of cakes, frosted cupcakes, cookies, ice cream and mochi that Sesshoumaru had ordered while Rin kept pointing out her favourites and insisting that Kagome try everything.

 * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sesshoumaru sat in silence and poured the tea, half-surprised that his hands were steady.

When Kagome had taken over Rin to apply that silly makeup on him, every nerve-ending had suddenly been standing at attention. His heart had raced madly in his chest and for a few critical seconds he had forgotten how to breathe.

She had been right there, in his reach, her fingers warm and soft as they’d danced on his skin.

Somehow, he’d managed to rein in the impulse to lean in, to kiss her.

The tutu and the feather boa had probably helped with that, as it was impossible to forget what a horrid sight he must be.

Sesshoumaru served the tea and even managed a bite of mochi while he listened to Kagome’s and Rin’s chatter, occasionally weighing in on the discussion.

It felt good, to have Kagome here with him and Rin, Sesshoumaru thought, as he watched Kagome brush off a bit of frosting smeared on Rin’s cheek.

It felt right.

If only.

All too soon, however, Rin and Kagome had eaten their fill.

Rin all but glowed with excitement as she turned to Kagome and told her they had prepared a special show for her.

Rin took Kagome’s hand, pulled her along to the living room.

Sesshoumaru trailed after them, resigned to his fate.

All too soon, Kagome was settled on the sofa, looking expectantly at him and Rin.

It was time to dance.

Rin hadn’t laid out any choreography for their grand performance, so Sesshoumaru tried to just imitate his daughter the best he could.

He hopped. He pranced. He twirled.

Perhaps, if Kagome squinted, it might even be called dancing.

Sesshoumaru felt like a prize idiot.

And yet, perhaps, he was an even bigger fool because he did not care.

Not when Kagome was clapping and grinning.

Not while her beautiful laughter rang in the air, sweeter than any sound.

To hear that now, after the grief she still carried within, was worth a hundred pink tutus.

When their dance show wound to its end and Rin dropped into an exaggerated curtsey, Kagome got up to her feet and clapped wildly.

“Bravo! That was amazing!”

They had a little more tea and a few more bites of cake after the dance, and then, finally, came the dreaded hour when Kagome had to leave.

She crouched down and took off the tiara and gave it back to Rin. Then she gave Rin a big hug and thanked her for the invitation.

When Kagome straightened, her eyes met Sesshoumaru’s. She came to him but offered no hugs.

Instead, feather-soft and all too brief, her lips brushed against his cheek.

Sesshoumaru froze.

“Thank you,” Kagome breathed. “This was everything I didn’t know I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” Sesshoumaru replied when he finally found his voice again and remembered how to use it.

“Also,” she added, her blue eyes twinkling, “you look great.”

With one last bright grin, Kagome left.

Sesshoumaru bent to pick up Rin and cradled his daughter in his arms, pressed his nose to the crown of her head.

“Thank you, Rin. Your idea worked really well.”

“We should invite Kagome-nee-chan over again soon,” Rin said, hugging Sesshoumaru.

“That we should,” Sesshoumaru agreed, his heart full.

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 8

Title: “I may just take your breath away” / Sweater Weather AU

Relationship: Jemily

Word count: 35,604

Summary:

Penelope hacks the college. JJ pets a cat. There are three blowjobs. Need I say more?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

JJ adjusted the textbook in her hands, rolling onto her side to get comfortable with it. Behind her, was the calming sounds of Penelope’s pop music and her dancing fingertips as she typed code into her computer. 

She had only a few pages left to read, but she was having a hard time focusing. JJ’s brain kept drifting to the events of that weekend. On Halloween, they played spin the bottle. JJ’s spin landed right on Emily, meaning that they had to kiss. 

But it was not chaste. As Penelope most eloquently put it: “you two were seconds from ripping each other’s clothes off in front of us.”

JJ couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

Emily had really kissed her. There was tongue. It was not a peck to play the game; they had gone at it like teenagers in the backseat of a car at a lovers’ lane. 

It made reading her textbook difficult when she knew what Emily’s tongue felt like against hers. It made doing her essay challenging when she could remember the taste of her lips. It made doing just about anything next to impossible when JJ was desperate to kiss Emily again. 

“Did you know that it’s Hotch’s birthday tomorrow?” Penelope asked, spinning in her chair to look at JJ. 

“Wait, what?” JJ asked. She looked up from her textbook.  

“So... I’ve hacked into the college database,” Penelope said, turning back to her computer, her hands were once again typing a mile a minute. “Because of the whole thing with Reid not telling us about his birthday, the poor thing, and I didn’t want to miss anyone else’s.”

“Maybe we could do a co-birthday?” JJ mused, thinking about the logistics of that. 

“You read my mind, my beautiful sporty friend,” Penelope replied. “I’ve almost got everyone’s, just a minute.”

JJ stood up, walked over to Garcia’s side of the room. Somehow, her side of the room was cleaner than JJ’s, despite the sheer amount of things. Her desk was covered in trinkets, decorations and her wall covered in posters, art prints and photographs. JJ’s, on the other hand, had significantly less stuff, and way more mess. She was a busy girl and her desk was basically useless with all of her books and loose paper and miscellaneous things she needed to deal with ages ago. 

“Did you know that Morgan is a gemini?” Penelope asked. 

“Figures,” JJ replied, hoping that was the right response. 

Garcia had two monitors on her light, wooden desk, and a large desktop computer that she had built herself tucked underneath. On one monitor, was a file that she was slowly adding to, of birthdays written in white text on a grey background. Her own was there, alongside Spencer, Hotch, Derek….

JJ then watched as Garcia typed out Emily’s birthday: October 12. They had missed it too!

“Oh my god,” Penelope said, “why don’t they tell us these things?! How did we befriend such secretive people.”

“Wait, when was that?” JJ murmured, grabbing her wall calendar and flipping through the pages. “Oh my god I saw her that day. She was baking cookies, alone.”

“Alone?” Penelope whimpered. 

JJ thought back to that night. She had barged into the kitchen, talked all about her impending break up with Will, and ate Emily’s cookies. She felt awful. Obviously they didn’t know each other as well then, but why was she alone?

“She didn’t even tell Derek,” Penelope said, “oh that sweet summer child. Who hurt her?”

JJ always celebrated her birthday. Be it a family dinner or a full on birthday party when she was a kid, JJ was used to a fuss made about her each year. It was harder after Ros, but her parents refused to let the day pass without at least a cake and a present. 

As she befriended Penelope last year, their birthdays were filled with presents and friendship and alcohol, both girls making sure to give the other a thoughtful gift and make a fuss for the day.

Her heart was breaking that three of her new friends were about to let theirs pass without anything to show for it. 

“We should have a party,” JJ blurted. 

“You read my mind.”

JJ frankly welcomed the distraction from her circular thoughts about her kiss with Emily.

 ——— 

JJ left another store empty handed. She had first placed an order at a store downtown for a birthday cake, with three names on it which confused the baker, then began to wander downtown searching for presents. 

She had another half hour before she was supposed to meet back up with Derek and Penelope, who were at the dollar store buying decorations, and she had hoped to find something for Emily by then. 

The three of them were quite efficient at party planning, and they had to be with such a quick turnaround time. JJ had been tasked with finding a present for Emily.

For Hotch, they wrangled a bottle of the nicer whiskey that he liked, because even at the age of 21, he was somehow already an old man in his tastes. Spencer was also easy, because Penelope was working on knitting him a scarf. Apparently it was from the show Dr. Who, but JJ didn’t really know much about that besides that it was British and both he and Penelope were big fans. 

Emily was a lot harder to shop for. 

What could JJ get for her with the thirty dollars that they all had pitched in to fund her present? Not much. Especially since JJ knows that Emily comes from money. If she wanted something, she could probably just buy it for herself, right? 

It was also difficult because it would be from her. It would be a token of her affections. What were her affections? Did she want to simply sleep with her? Date with her? Be her best friend? JJ’s thoughts were a mess.

JJ had been in just about every store downtown, browsing clothes, gift stores, even a plant store in which she contemplated the meaning of getting Emily a cactus. Nothing was quite right.

She had almost given up when she wandered past a used book store. She had never been in before but always meant to. Out front was a stack of old milk crates filled with books, mostly romance novels and thrillers, and inside the window, beautifully bound antique books were resting in the display. 

A bell dinged as she walked in, and an elderly man waved at her from the counter before returning to his own book. 

Inside, the smell of old books filled her senses, mixed with the smell of apples and cinnamon and the earthy smell of all the old buildings in her college town. 

Stacked floor to ceiling were mountains of books, towering over her head. 

There were a few other patrons in the shop, some sitting and reading, others wandering the stacks, pulling out the occasional book. 

JJ slowly made her way through the maze. It was larger inside than she expected, with thousands of old books surrounding her, no matter where she looked. At times, she had to step over a pile of books in her path. 

The books were organized by topic, but within that, JJ couldn’t discern a clear system. 

She climbed the creaky staircase and pondered what kind of book Emily would like. Is buying her a romance novel too forward? JJ wondered. She probably wouldn’t be able to find one with two women anyways. 

Did Emily like fantasy? Sci-fi? Non Fiction? Should JJ get her something she’s read? JJ realized that she hadn’t read anything that wasn’t for school in ages. 

JJ felt overwhelmed. Was she thinking too hard? 

She did a double take at the window sill, realizing that the movement that caught her eye was a black cat basking in the sunlight. 

JJ reached out her hand tentatively to pet it. The cat nuzzled her hand, and began to purr. JJ smiled, spending a few minutes giving the cat much needed attention. 

The cat then stood, apparently growing bored, and ran off to investigate something or chase a mouse or whatever bookstore cats got up to. 

Where it lay was a small book. It was old, but not as old as some of the other leather bound texts in this store. Its white cover had a simple drawing of a boy, and written in a looping script: “Le Petit Prince.”

JJ smiled slightly, picking up the thin book. She leaned against the windowsill and carefully flipped through the pages, admiring the illustrations and trying to decipher the premise with her limited understanding of French. 

It seemed like it was for children, with whimsical art of a boy on a small planet, a king, a rose and a fox, among other things. She read the first few pages, about a boy falling in love with a flower, and decided it was perfect. 

It was a sign, JJ thought, the cat led her to this book. 

The cat—which reminded JJ of Emily with its standoffish exterior but affectionate personality—had clearly shown her that this was the perfect present. 

There was no price on it, and JJ worried that it would be out of her budget. Holding it to her chest, she descended the steps and brought the book to the clerk. 

“Hello sir,” JJ greated him, setting the book down on the table, “How much is this book? ”

He was seated in a comfortable looking chair behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register. The sign on it read, ‘cash only’  and there was a tip jar in the form of a cat mug. 

“Oh this is an excellent choice!” The man lifted the book up, examining the cover. “On ne voit qu’avec le cœur.”

That was French. JJ didn’t know what it meant, only catching the word “heart” at the end. She nodded nonetheless. 

“You speak French?” He asked her. 

She shrugged. “I’m learning.” 

“This book will teach you more than just French,” the man said. “Trust me.”

JJ didn’t know what he meant, but nodded. He still hadn’t told her how much it was. 

“It’s a gift,” JJ explained, “for a friend.”

He handed her back the book, smiling at her. He gave it to her for fifteen dollars, seeming to make up the price on the spot. The black cat waited for her near the door, letting her pet him on the ears before she left. 

JJ left the door, hugging the book to her chest. 

 ——— 

Wrangling three of their friends into attending a surprise party was harder than it looked.

With three student athletes, nights during which none of them had games, or practices were scarce, so it took them until the next Friday before they found a free evening. Then, they had to go through the ordeal of convincing them to show up at Derek’s room at the right time. 

JJ felt giddy with the secret, greatly enjoying the party planning and doing something special for her new friends. On her Wednesday afternoon study date with Emily, her excitement for the party almost overpowered her nervousness with the girl due to their recent kiss. JJ caught herself looking more at Emily than her notes, alternating between imagining them kissing and imagining the look on Emily’s face when she received her present. 

By seven that Friday night, they had fully decorated Derek’s tiny dorm with streamers, balloons, and just about anything Penelope could find at the dollar store. A happy birthday sign was strung over one of the windows, with the addition of their friends' names written in marker on poster boards taped underneath.  

Their presents were wrapped messily, as JJ wasn’t particularly good at using wrapping paper. The cake sat on Derek’s desk reading “Happy (belated) birthday Emily, Hotch and Spencer!” in red icing on white cake. 

The three of them were frantically blowing up balloons and checking their phones. JJ felt slightly light headed by the time they were done. 

Hotch and Emily were coming for a “study date” with Derek, and Spencer was expecting a Dr. Who marathon with Garcia. All were supposed to be there any minute.

There was a knock on the door. 

“Get ready!” Garcia squealed, “someone’s here!” 

She opened the door, and instead of the birthday kids, it was David Rossi, who JJ had met for the first time a few weeks prior. He was 22, only a few months older than Hotch, in his first year of his masters. He and Hotch were close, and Emily and Derek knew him well since he TA’d one of their classes. 

“Rossi?” Derek said, “you came!”

“I never turn down an invitation to a party,” he said. 

“I have to admit,” Derek said, “it’s not that much of a party.“

“It’s more of a magical birthday get together,” Penelope said as she ushered him in. 

“Good thing I brought enough alcohol to make it a party,” he said. 

He pulled a very expensive looking bottle of vodka out of his backpack, and more beers than should fit in a normal sized bag. 

“I take it back,” Derek said, “this is definitely a party.”

There was another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Garcia said, picking up a balloon to throw. 

Spencer opened the door trailed by Hotch and Emily, all looking confused as they were bombarded by a dozen balloons cascading down from above and a series of hugs from the group. All were looking around with a mix of shock and happiness on their faces.

“It’s technically none of your birthdays today,” Penelope said, “Because you are all such awful private people, BUT I got the goods and figured it out. We thought we would celebrate all of you guys, and our amazing friend group, with this little shindig.”

“It’s wonderful Garcia,” Hotch said, almost smiling, “Thank you.”

“Don’t just thank me!” she said, “It was Miss Jennifer’s idea, and she got the cake. And my beautiful Derek helped me with the decorations and loaned his room, which might I say, is strangely large for a single room.”

Derek chucked, “It was my pleasure, happy birthday you three.”

He pulled Spencer in and ruffled his hair. 

“We’ve ordered pizza too!” JJ announced, “It should be here any minute now.”

“You’re too good to us,” Emily finally spoke up, after standing in the doorway with a dazed expression on her face. 

Penelope guided them in, and the group exchanged hugs and laughter, and Hotch got a very Italian kiss on the cheek from Rossi. Penelope put silly birthday hats on their heads, and took photos like a proud mother. 

After a few minutes of chatter—about the decorations, how they managed to keep it a secret, and most importantly, the illegality of Penelope hacking into their personal data on the university server— JJ’s phone pinged and she ran to the foyer to get the pizzas. 

Munching on greasy food, there was a companionable silence with the cheery sounds of the music in the background. 

As pizza wrapped up, their chatter resumed and the room filled with overlapping conversations. JJ noticed Rossi had snuck off to fish something out of Derek’s mini fridge, pouring something out into shot glasses. Then she heard the sound of whipped cream. 

At that sound, all heads turned towards him. He had three cups filled to the brim with whipped cream and he looked like he was about to burst into laughter at any point. 

“BIRTHDAY SHOTS!” Penelope squealed. 

“No way,” Hotch said, “I’m not doing one of those.”

“One of what?” Spencer asked nervously. 

“It’s not a blowjob is it?” Emily asked with a laugh. 

“A blowjob?” Spencer asked even more nervously. 

“It’s a shot, kid,” Derek assured him, “you just can’t use your hands and there’s the-“ 

He gestured at the whipped cream with a laugh.

“White stuff!” Emily said, tying up her hair into a ponytail in preparation. 

Rossi had to explain the premise several times, before it sunk in that they had to fish out the small shot and drink it all without using their hands. Reid looked at them suspiciously but he warmed up to the idea after Hotch offered to go first so he could see how it’s done. 

The older boy had definitely done a blowjob shot before, efficiently grabbing the plastic shot cup and downing it, his cheeks covered with whipped cream. 

Emily was enthusiastically buried in the whipped cream but struggled on the follow through, spilling most of the vodka into the larger cup before she drank it. 

Reid seemed nervous to get the whipped cream on his face, reeling back and wiping his cheeks then trying again. 

Eventually, Derek reached his hand into the cup, retrieved the shot and held it up to Spencer’s mouth.

“Look ma, no hands!” Morgan quipped before rubbing some leftover whipped cream on the younger boy’s face as the group laughed. Reid was laughing happily, beaming as he wiped his face. 

With the celebratory shot in their system, it was time for cake. JJ carefully used Penelope’s bright pink lighter to ignite candles on each piece for her three friends as they sang Happy Birthday to them.  

“Happy birthday to you!” They sang, “happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Hotch, Spence and Emily! Happy birthday to you!”

They blew out their candles. All were instructed to make wishes. 

As the night progressed, JJ got more and more nervous about the present. What if Emily hated it? Would she ruin the whole night? Penelope and Derek had assured her that it was a good present but what if they were wrong too?

JJ busied herself with cutting the cake, distributing pieces and making sure everyone had forks and napkins. 

Rossi, who was their unofficial bartender, was stationed near the mini fridge and passed out fresh beers when called upon. 

“Gifts!” Penelope exclaimed once they had made good work of the cake, dragging the presents out from their hiding space under Derek’s desk.

She handed them over to Emily, Hotch and Reid. 

“We all pitched in,” Derek said. 

All three looked perturbed at the fuss, murmuring “you shouldn’t have” as they looked at the gift. Spencer opened his and laughed, wrapping the incredibly long striped scarf around his neck and thanking Penelope. Aaron actually did smile at his present and expressed his gratitude by pouring them all shots. 

Emily held hers for a moment, staring at the wrapped book with an unreadable expression on her face. JJ watched, holding her breath as she turned it over, then placed it back down. 

“Will you excuse me for a second?” Emily said, her voice tight and sounding very… formal. 

JJ gulped as Emily stood, and exited the dorm, shutting the door behind her. She immediately thought that she had done something wrong.

The group looked back and forth, not quite sure what to do, as the commotion happened mid way through Hotch doling out shots of whiskey and some were already half raised. 

A moment passed as JJ thought about whether it would be worse for her to follow or leave her be. Maybe she wanted to be left alone? Maybe JJ was the last person Emily wanted to see?

She knew there was a lot about Emily that she didn’t know. Like JJ, the other girl kept a lot close to her chest. Over time, JJ had learned some details of her childhood, but not all, and what she knew didn’t look good. Maybe all of this was a bad idea? Emily might have had a reason that she didn’t celebrate her birthday. This could have been an awful plan and it would have been all JJ’s fault. 

She stood and grabbed the book, deciding to follow Emily. She slipped out the door and walked slowly down the hall, unsure of what she would even say to Emily once she faced her. Hey I just gave you a gift and you all but ran out of the room before you opened it, did I offend you somehow? Or I’m sorry?

JJ wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. She just knew something was upsetting Emily and the last thing JJ wanted to be was the cause of that. In fact, she wanted to make Emily happy and make sure nothing ever bothered her ever again. It would probably be weird for her to say that, right? 

She assumed that Emily had gone to the communal bathroom, as she left her lanyard with her room keys behind her in Derek’s room. If she had left the floor she would have been locked out. 

JJ took a breath outside the door, then pushed it open. 

Emily was standing in the bathroom that all of the girls floor shared, with its small row of stalls, old fashioned sinks and blue tiled floor. A frosted window that looked out into the courtyard. Many mornings JJ found herself brushing her teeth next to the other girl. 

Emily had her arms braced on the sides of the sink, leaning forward and looking at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was coming in quick breaths. 

“Em?” JJ said softly. 

Startled by the noise, Emily looked away from her, quickly pulling up a corner of her shirt to wipe her eyes. 

“You ok?” JJ asked, tucking the present behind her back. 

“I’m fine,” Emily said, standing up straight and giving her a half smile. Her posture was stiff, her smile forced.

“You don’t look fine.” 

Emily stepped back, leaning against the window sill. She crossed her arms, still avoiding any eye contact. 

JJ walked forward, slowly closing the distance. 

She leaned on the wall beside Emily, trying not to stare at her and make her feel uncomfortable. 

“Did I do something wrong?” JJ asked. Her voice sounded small in her ears. She immediately kicked herself, upset at how this might sound like she was making it all about herself. 

“No!” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head. “No. It wasn’t you it’s…”

She trailed off. 

“I’ve never had all this before. The friends and the party and the gifts. All this attention… it’s a lot.” 

She slid to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. JJ did the same, turning to face the other girl. She didn’t want to push too hard lest Emily flee from her again.

“It’s all so nice,” Emily whispered. 

“Then what’s wrong?” JJ asked softly. 

Emily sighed and began to bite her nails. Her posture was hunched over, curled up on the cold tile floor. 

She began to speak, then stopped herself, gritting her teeth and blinking hard. She looked over at JJ reluctantly, seeming to think hard about how to answer that question. 

“I was always the new girl wherever I was,” she said. “I was never anywhere enough to make friends, real friends that is. Or have anything like all this. I would do anything to fit in and it never seemed to work.”

JJ’s heart felt like it was breaking for her friend. She tried to imagine Emily trying to be anyone else other than the Emily she knew and couldn’t. Fitting in is hard, let alone fitting into new countries and learning new languages. JJ knew she wouldn’t have been able to keep it together.

Emily shook her head, picking at the skin around her nails anxiously, JJ could tell that sharing all of this was incredibly difficult. 

“I lived in a dozen different countries and was barely  there long enough to make friends and when I did…” Emily sighed. “I fucked it up. I make things worse for people.” 

Emily buried her face in her hands, her breaths coming harder now. Her voice was shaky and quiet, almost whispering to JJ. 

“My mom was never around on my birthdays. She would leave me a present. Maybe. This year she didn’t even call.”

Emily paused. 

“And then you guys do all this.” 

Emily looked up, staring with unfocused eyes into the bathroom, JJ could tell she was thinking of someone else, some other day. She looked lost. 

JJ wanted to hold her hand, wanted to comfort her, keep her close. She was always called the mom friend, it was in her nature to try and make sure her friends were taken care of. Her feelings for Emily complicated things. If she was anyone else, she would grab her hand, no questions asked, but she felt herself second-guessing each move.  

Her actions suddenly felt like they had more weight to them. Knowing that she liked Emily made everything strange. If she held her hand, would it be weird? She didn’t know. Normally, she wouldn’t question holding a friend’s hand, hell, she’d already held Emily’s hand. 

But that was before she was gay, or bi, or whatever. Before she knew she liked girls. Liked Emily. Now, touching her felt scary, like she was doing something wrong, even if she was simply trying to be nice. 

Fighting against her anxious thoughts, JJ reached out, tugging at Emily’s wrist until her hand clasped onto hers. JJ ran a reassuring thumb over her hand. She sighed a breath of relief when Emily leaned into the touch. 

“You’re our friend,” JJ said, simply. “And we care about you.” 

Emily nodded, still not looking at her. 

“When I held your present in my hands,” Emily said, “I just couldn't stop thinking of my friend Matthew. He surprised me on my sixteenth birthday, pulling me out of some stupid event my mother had dragged me to. That was the only time I got a real birthday present before now.”

JJ hadn’t heard about this friend. Emily didn’t really talk about her past, beyond the general facts. JJ had to stop herself from prying, fighting back her curiosity in favour of letting Emily talk. 

She squeezed Emily’s hand in a gesture she hoped would be encouraging.  

“Your gift just brought back a lot of memories,” Emily said with a whisper. “Matthew basically saved my life. He was the only friend I had before now I guess.” 

She looked over at JJ. 

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, wiping at her eyes. 

“Don’t be.”

JJ pulled Emily into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight. Emily let out a muffled sob and fell into her, with her head tucked under JJ’s chin. They sat like that for a while, JJ listening to Emily’s ragged breathing and JJ running a calming hand over her back. Emily’s face was buried in her shoulder, her soft hair tickled JJ’s face as she held her tight.  

She focused on rubbing Emily’s back, making patterns with her hand on top of her soft sweater. Emily’s arms were wrapped around her waist. 

For a moment, tears pricked at JJ’s eyes. Watching Emily finally be vulnerable to her, for her to share something, even if she left out details, was a lot. She blinked them back and focused on steadying her breathing, being a calm presence for Emily. 

After a moment Emily pulled away, creating some distance between them, wiping her face with her sleeve and sniffling. 

“JJ I don’t want you to get hurt,” Emily said, her voice cracking, “I just bring people pain.”

“What happened, Em?” JJ asked. 

Emily looked at her with teary eyes and shook her head. 

“You don’t have to tell me, Emily. But I need you to know that whatever it is, I’ll still be here. I care so much about you and just… like being your friend. I don’t care what happened in your past or if you think you’re going to hurt me. All I care about is us.”

“I like being your friend,” Emily said with a teary laugh. 

JJ smiled at her, pulling her into another hug. Holding her tight feeling like the girl would break into pieces in front of her if she let go. 

“Do you want your present?” JJ asked carefully, still hugging Emily. She could feel the other girl nod. 

JJ pulled back, taking the wrapped book from the tile floor and placing it in Emily’s lap. Emily carefully began to unwrap it, as if she wasn’t allowed to rip the brightly patterned paper.

“You know you can rip it, right?” JJ said with a kind laugh. “Just tear it open, it’s part of the fun!”

Emily looked at her nervously, and half heartedly tugged at the wrapping paper. 

“Harder!” JJ said, demonstrating by pulling on it and making a satisfying tearing noise. JJ assumed that the girl didn’t have the opportunity to tear open presents as a kid, and JJ wanted to make sure she didn’t miss out on that joy anymore. 

Emily laughed and tore at it, ripping the paper off and revealing the small book underneath. Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 

“I read this as a kid,” Emily breathed, staring at the cover reverently.  

She opened the cover and looked through the first few pages. 

“L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux,” Emily quoted the novel just as the book shop clerk had done.

“What is essential is invisible to the eyes,” JJ translated. “I don’t really get it. I tried to read it before I gave it to you, but didn’t make much headway.”

“It’s about love,” Emily said as she flipped through the pages.

Emily slowly turned the pages, smiling down at the whimsical illustrations and murmured about it in French that JJ couldn’t quite make out.

“I could translate it for you if you want?” Emily offered.

“Is it as good in English?”

“No,” Emily said with a laugh. 

JJ beamed, happy that her gift was no longer making Emily upset. She hoped that whatever bad memories she had about birthdays were being amended with some joy from today. 

“Well then I just have to get better at French so that I can understand it,” JJ said. “I’ll need a good tutor.”

“This is an amazing present. Thank you JJ.”

They smiled at each other.

“I’ll read it to you,” Emily said, “And you can stop me and I can explain anything you don’t understand.”

JJ’s heart fluttered at the thought of Emily reading a love story out loud. Though, from what she saw it was about a boy being in love with a flower so it couldn’t be that romantic, could it? 

“Sounds like a plan,” JJ said. “Should we get back? I wouldn’t want to worry the others.”

Emily nodded, then the two of them stood up together. JJ’s legs had fallen asleep while sitting on the cold, tiled floor so she dramatically shook them out, making Emily laugh. 

God her laugh, she wanted to hear that forever. She’d do anything to keep Emily smiling and happy.

As they walked back to the party, it was Emily who took JJ’s hand. 

Maybe they could be friends. Maybe that would be enough. 

[kookiebunnii]

pairing: mark(got7) x reader

genre: fluff for the birthday boy 🥳

word count: 4.3k

warnings: mature language

When Mark had been dating your roommate, you barely spared him a second glance.

Being a college undergraduate meant that you had plenty of exams and coursework to worry about without having to keep track of who Ingrid was “dating” this month. The two of you got along as well as two individuals who kept to themselves could get along. She was rarely home, and when she was, she’d spare you the awkward introduction to her new fling by quickly ushering him into her room. You always told yourself that your living situation could’ve been way worse, so you let Ingrid’s business proceed without much of a complaint.

You couldn’t even remember how long the two lasted, given the amount of fuckboys that had walked through her door. It was a wonder that you could even recall his name, to be frank. Perhaps he left some semblance of an impression because of the way he never walked around like he owned the place like most of Ingrid’s conquests. There were times you’d find an unknown shirt hanging haphazardly across the couch or one of your pudding cups gone missing from the fridge. Despite these occurrences, you disliked confrontation, so you chose to endure rather than address your grievances. While Ingrid had been with Mark, you remember being considerably more comfortable in your own residence.

If someone had told you that you’d be head over heels in love with Mark Tuan only a month after your roommate ended things with him, you’d probably have a good laugh. You were more invested in the comebacks of the boy groups you loved than some boy your roommate, of all people, had once been with. Besides, you were a commitment-seeking gal, and anyone that pursued your roommate was definitely not expecting anything long-term.

The suggestion that you would grow attracted to such a guy would have seemed ludicrous. Yet maybe this is why the saying “not everything is as it seems” exists.

The whole ordeal began relatively innocuously. You were waiting on your hazelnut latte at the university’s central coffee shop, preparing to head to the library for some much-needed studying. Midterms were around the corner, and you had spent one too many days dozing off in lectures to feel prepared. It seemed that most of the student population had the same idea as you, since the café was bustling for a Wednesday afternoon. You tried your best to stay out of everyone’s way, focusing instead on checking the time on your cell phone and planning out your schedule for the rest of the day.

When you finally have your order in your hands, you take a small sip before heading for the exit. Right when that happens, a form in your periphery suddenly rushes in and knocks the hot coffee out of your grasp. Thankfully, or as much thanks as you could offer in such a tragedy, most of the drink cascades on the tiled floor. Only a little of your latte scalds your hand and paints your white sweater with brown polka dots. The disappointment you feel about losing your drink is quickly overshadowed by embarrassment when people start staring and the painful burning blossoms across the back of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Your offender rushes to grab some napkins, immediately going to work on wiping the floor. As his head is lowered, you try to think of a smart response. Just as you were about to give the rude kid a piece of your mind, he looks up and the words dry up on your tongue.

“Y/N?”

“Mark?” you finally manage, surprised he even remembered who you were.

He quickly hands you a napkin, looking even more apologetic before responding, “Here, for your hand and sweater…I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly reassure, doing your best to clean yourself up. The coffee will likely stain your sweater at this rate, so you decide to simply study at your apartment instead so you can change into new clothes.

This certainly puts a wrench into your plans, doesn’t it?

“Let me buy you another coffee. A new sweater too, it looks like,” he gives you a timidly awkward smile, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do so.

You offer him a quick rise of the corners of your lips, but not much else. It still felt a little shocking and disappointing to be in such a predicament, and you sure as hell didn’t want Ingrid’s ex to be owing you any favors.

“As I said, it’s fine. Really. This was an old sweater anyways,” you grab the hem as you speak, before trying to dodge around him to leave.

When he quickly blocks your attempt to escape, you realize the guy’s reflexes are quite remarkable. However, you wanted to be rid of this awkward situation as soon as possible, so his actions made you purse your lips together in discontent.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. This really wasn’t the way I’d imagine bumping into you again. Literally I guess,” he shyly runs his hand through his hair, which is now surprisingly dyed blonde. You knew something about him was different, but now you pinpoint it as his hair. He used to wear his natural dark brown locks when he was with Ingrid, so the change catches you off guard. It suits him well though, the way it easily brightens his whole demeanor.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens,” you tuck your hand into your pocket and continue, “Look I’ve really gotta go, I have midterms to study for.”

He promises you that he’ll pay you back as you rush out the door.  

It seems that Mark is a man of his word, because the next day, you find a mysterious package addressed to you waiting outside the door. With no shipping label and your name scrawled on the top of the box, your survival instincts tell you that opening it on the living room floor was probably the last thing you should’ve done. However, that happened to be exactly what you did.

The first thing you notice was a small note laying atop a variety of items that were wrapped up with layers of navy-colored tissue paper. Reading through the note causes a bright flush to dash across your cheekbones, as you realize that the suspicious package was from Mark.

Ingrid’s Mark.

You began to slowly examine the rest of the contents with less zeal, hoping that your roommate wouldn’t pop out of a corner and accuse you of having something with her old flame. The neatly-folded white sweater you discovered inside was very similar to what you previously wore before the coffee incident. However, the material was definitely a lot nicer and you spent a good two minutes just stroking the material with your fingers. His attention to detail regarding what you had worn was crazy good, leaving you more than a little impressed.

Moving forward, you found a package of instant coffee—hazelnut-flavored to be exact. You grinned, realizing that Mark’s attention to detail really was impeccable. Perhaps anyone could’ve identified the hazelnut syrup in your drink if they spent five minutes wiping it off the floor, but he had gone out of his way to identify the same flavor for you.

It was kinda cute, actually.

As soon as the thought appears, you quickly shake it out of your head. Mark couldn’t be cute. He couldn’t be anything more than somebody you knew, someone who was paying you back for an inconvenience. He was doing these things because he owed you—even if he wasn’t exactly obligated to go through such lengths.

Before you could try to evaluate your feelings about the matter, you decide to boil some hot water for the coffee you’ve just received. It seems as if the universe is conspiring against you however, as Ingrid emerges from her room right on cue. She gives the box on the floor a quick glance before asking, “Did you order something?”

You tuck the thin pack of instant coffee in your pocket next to Mark’s note. Your fingers tighten across the slip of paper, crushing it into a condensed ball as you spoke.

“Yeah. Just some random stuff.”

“Sweater’s cute,” she remarks, grabbing your gift and running her hands through the material in the same way you had previously. You felt something twist in your heart at her ministrations, as if her touch were contaminating and wearing away what that article of clothing had meant to you.

When she finally leaves after dropping the sweater back in the box, you take the entire box to your room and dump it in a corner of your closet with a slam so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.

It just so happens that that package from a boy with golden locks would signal the start of a series of frequent disruptions within your day-to-day lifestyle.

Fate probably thought it would be funny to let Mark Tuan slip into your life little by little, for a few seconds each day, just to tease you. You were starting to wonder if the boy was stalking you, given how often you would see him at unpredictable intervals. If you went to the library to study, he’d be there borrowing a textbook from the front desk. If you wanted to buy a coffee and a pastry for breakfast, he’d already be at the cashier paying for his own. If you were rushing to class, slightly late because you’d overslept, you’d almost crash into him in front of your building.

He’d always give you that cute smile with a little wave of his hand to accompany it.

Your life was a grade A joke at this point.

Midterms had long been over by the time you finally took him up on his offer to hang out one-on-one. You had spent a lot of time and effort into putting him off, making excuses for why not a single day of the week would work for you. When November rolled around, all Mark had to do was raise his lower lip slightly in a pout for you to forget why you were trying so hard to avoid him in the first place. You’d never seen the boy purposefully act in such a cute way to get something, but it definitely made your heart leap in your chest.

Even when he took you to a nice minimalistic café to pay for a drink and slice of strawberry cake, he couldn’t stop apologizing for bumping into you during midterms season. You had honestly forgotten about it, but the way he talked about how foolish he felt after the whole ordeal made you smile unconsciously. The consideration he had put into making it up to you stressed him out greatly. He couldn’t stop wondering whether or not you even liked the sweater. Did it fit you alright? Did you actually like hazelnut lattes, or were you just trying something new out that day?

At this point you couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a minute detail, something he really didn’t have to worry this much over, but he had worried nonetheless. It was really silly of him, but also showed that maybe he was more than just trying to play with your feelings. You’re about to tell him how you appreciate the thought he put into his apology gift when you realize he’s staring at you.

“W-What is it? Is there something on my face?”

He shakes out of his reverie and reassures, “No you’re fine. It’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like that.”

You blink in confusion before playing with your napkin in embarrassment, “Oh uh…I’m not laughing at you. I promise. I just think it’s amusing that you cared so much since I never held anything against you in the first place.”

Looking back into his soft brown eyes is a mistake, because as soon as you do, your heart starts racing again. He gives you a grin of his own in response, brushing his honey-colored hair back to briefly reveal his forehead. It’s stupid how much that simple gesture makes you want to jump his bones.

“I’d say it was a worth it, considering we’re basically friends now,” he says, happily taking a sip of his iced americano.

The assertion makes you hesitate briefly as you ask yourself whether or not the two of you were “friends”. You didn’t know him all that well yet, but a part of you looked forward to doing so. If anything, the only thing holding you back was that he was Ingrid’s ex. She’d probably laugh at you if she found out about your interest in him, and it also meant that you couldn’t be sure who Mark really was. Ingrid was notorious for having her pick among fuckboys, and maybe Mark was just one of them who was really good at hiding it.

It seems that he notices your lack of agreement in his earlier sentiment, so he says, “What will it take for me to be your friend Y/N?”

Using your fork to play with the cream left from your cake slice earlier, you reply, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t push you further, sensing that your answer probably meant something deeper than what you were able to convey. You feel thankful that he lets the matter go and goes back to giving you an excited puppy-dog look.

“Come on, there’s something I wanna show you.”

Turns out “something” means the ice cream parlor down the street. As he walks you back to your apartment, you can’t help but notice the way he goes to town on that poor cookies n’ cream ice cream cone.

“Are you trying to fatten me up with sweets today?” you muse, enjoying your second pastry of the day courtesy to Mark.

“As if. You look perfect Y/N—nothing a cheat day could do to you.”

It’s like the guy’s a professional sweet talker too, since he barely bats an eye at the compliment. Not something you’re used to, you try your best to not blush obviously at his statement.

God, everything about Mark Tuan was too much for you. He was the epitome of a honey boy.

The walk is fairly interesting, as Mark turned out to be simultaneously a good listener and a good conversation carrier. He’d ask you some questions that you were comfortable answering, listening intently as you shared some details about your studies, your childhood, the things you liked and the things you didn’t. You knew he was paying attention because he’d always laugh along with you, as you recollected some embarrassing things that had happened to you in the week prior.

By the time you reach your apartment door, you’ve forgotten exactly who Mark was supposed to be to you. In his large, tan hoodie with his hands in his pockets, he felt like a nervous boy walking you to your door at the end of a first date.

But could you really expect life to do you any favors just when things started to look up?

The door swings open just as you fumble for your keys, and out steps the last person you wanted to see. Ingrid takes one look at Mark and another at you before a smirk blooms across her bright red lips. Her makeup told you that she was heading to another one of her parties where she’d definitely bring a boy or two home.

“Long time no see,” she addresses Mark first, giving him one of those smiles that probably instigated all those hook-ups she partakes in.

You can’t help but feel overshadowed and uncomfortable. It would hurt you beyond measure to see the two flirt with each other right in front of your eyes. You had half the mind to just push past Ingrid and call it a day, but Mark’s words stop you in your thoughts.

“Sure.”

It’s curt and simple, lacking the flirtatious tone that Ingrid had injected into her words earlier. If you didn’t know any better, it honestly sounded downright bored—as if the speaker couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

Not giving her much to work with, Ingrid turns towards you instead. “Didn’t know you’d go for my sloppy seconds Y/N.”

Your throat feels dry and you refuse to let yourself expect anything different than the reaction your roommate just gave you. Of course, you expected her to make fun of you. It made sense that she would think of you and Mark being outside the apartment as you picking up a boy she left behind.

But why did it fill you with shame anyways?

“As if anyone would. I wouldn’t get involved with one of your boy toys,” the words leave you mouth with disgust, a tone you couldn’t help given the way you were trying so desperately to hide your true feelings. Liking Mark was dangerous and it would mean that Ingrid was right. You weren’t involved with him. You couldn’t be.

As soon as your statement pierces the air, you sense Mark’s form stiffen next to you. Immediately, you’re filled with regret. Did you need to word things that harshly? Even if you could never get to know him beyond being an acquaintance, he had shown you nothing but kindness. He never tried to get in your pants or act like a certified sleazeball like you were insinuating.

When Mark turns around and leaves the two of you standing in the hallway, it’s almost like you’re stuck in a wall of honey. The figurative sticky syrup prevents your limbs from making a move after the blonde-haired boy, as you’re stuck watching him go—watching him hurt over your words. Your throat tightens painfully with the way you try not to cry, fearing that you really ended up harming a boy that didn’t deserve the way you just portrayed him.

For the next 11 days according to your count, you don’t see Mark again. You were used to finding him leaning around the corner, listening to music on his airpods as he waited for a friend’s class to end so they could go play basketball. You had just started to adjust to his daily presence by entertaining the idea that you could start spending time with him. Props to your big mouth and careless words for shattering the prospect to pieces. The sense of guilt you carried was far heavier that the notebooks you lugged to class, and you were hoping—no, praying that you would see that bright smile of his to unexpectedly bump into you again.

Maybe meeting him again was the most luck you were fated to have.

As you doodle in the margins of your notebook, wearing the sweater he bought you all those weeks ago, you formulate an apology plan. If you showed him you were sorry, actually really sorry, maybe he’d forgive you. It wasn’t like you deserved it but seeing him again would sure beat the dreary days you were currently victim to.

Wracking your thoughts for comments Mark had made to you regarding things he liked, you realized he hadn’t talked much about himself beyond seemingly having an affinity of cookies n’ cream ice cream. He did mention wanting to have a puppy if his apartment landlord would allow it though. If it were possible for you to be more depressed, you realized belatedly that he had spent a good amount of time learning more about you than you did about him.

After your classes, you head out to find something for him. It wasn’t like you could afford getting him a puppy, especially since he literally told you he wasn’t allowed to have one, so you searched for the next best thing. It took you a few hours of searching to find something that satisfied your expectations, and you set out to spend the rest of the day preparing it for when you would confront Mark yourself.

Standing outside of his apartment at 9 PM on a Friday night was probably one of the dumbest decisions you ever made, and you made a lot of those. He probably didn’t even know that you knew he lived here. Ingrid had made you pick her up once from a party one of his roommates hosted when she was still with him, and your trusty sense of direction never really allowed you to forget how to get from one place to another. Even if you wanted to turn around and run home straight away in fear, you forced yourself to knock on the door with three quick thumps.

Praying that it was Mark and not one of his rambunctious roommates who opened the door, your wish actually comes true and you’re greeted with the sleepy frame of the honey boy you missed so much over the last two weeks. He’s wearing a thin white tee with grey sweats, as he rubs his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s actually seeing you at his door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he quickly runs a hand through his hair, as if trying to hide the fact that you probably just woke him up.

Did Mark always look this good? It’s actually unfair how pretty he is.

Clearing your throat, you gather up as much courage as you could muster before saying, “Yep it’s me. I’m here to beg for forgiveness.”

“What for?” he tilts his head slightly in question before mumbling, “Come inside, it’s cold.”

He gently rests his hand on your shoulder before urging you inside, and the way he touches you sends a shiver down your spine. Trying not to let any surprised noises escape you, you hurry on into the warmth of the apartment. You look around as you take your shoes off, noticing how surprisingly clean it is despite five boys living here. Perhaps your preconceptions need to be changed.

You shyly trail behind his large figure as he leads you into what appears to be his room. Taking note of the light-up rainbow keyboard and gamer chair with scarlet red highlights, you realize that Mark is one of those boys. You almost laughed aloud imagining him as one of those kids that whined “Mom I’m busy!” while playing Call of Duty.

He collapses on his bed unceremoniously with a groan, looking like he was ready to pass out again. Wondering who in their right mind took naps at 9 in the evening, you awkwardly stood in front of him while playing with the ribbon of the gift in your hands.

Opening one eye to look at you, he sits up and pats the corner of the bed closest to him. Wide eyed, you point to yourself before pointing to the same bed corner. He chuckles, and the deep sound sends another shudder through your body.

“Yes, I’m talking to you silly,” he grins, as if he had already forgiven you.

Hurriedly, you plop your butt down on the bedsheets and push your apology gift into his hands. He seems confused at first, messing with the sides of the wrapping paper as he examines what you just gave him.

“I got this for you because…I’m sorry for the things I said,” you relax, shrinking down in sadness before continuing, “You’re my friend.”

He looks at you through your entire confession, hanging onto each word that slips out of your lips. When you stop and slowly look back at him to gauge his response, he gives you a small smile. But it’s only when he grabs your nervous hand in his own do you finally let the small sigh hiding inside your chest escape you.

“I’m more than just someone Ingrid messed with. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding quickly, he laughs as if admiring the great bobblehead impression you were giving. Your hand in his grasp starts to become unbearably warm, as you bite your lip to keep your dangerous thoughts at bay.

“I thought I knew everything that happened. But I don’t, and I shouldn’t hold that against you,” you admit, slightly losing your train of thought when he begins to gently rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Don’t hold that against yourself either.”

You allow yourself to meet his gaze again, and the amount of warmth and comfort you find there almost breaks you down instantly. Perhaps he knew more than he let on regarding the inner turmoil you struggled with by only thinking of Mark as someone Ingrid once had. But from the first time he ruined your study plans to the moment he bought you various sweets until you verbally forgave him, he was slowly disproving those preconceptions. The amount of understanding he offered you made you feel even worse for referring to him the way you did all those days ago.

All along you thought that Mark was bad for you. Perhaps it was you that truly didn’t deserve him.

Momentarily pulling away from your fingers, he begins unwrapping the package you brought along with you. Suddenly nervous, you fiddle with the hem of your petticoat as he slowly pulls out the adorable puppy hat you purchased for him from the mall yesterday. Mark stares down at the hat in his hands, and it’s only when he bursts out in laughter do you finally let your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“What are you laughing at? I-It’s cute!” You stutter, furiously crossing your arms.

When he finally stops his fit of laughter, he sets the hat on his head in triumph as if he were wearing a crown of honor. Seeing it on him makes you giggle too, knowing that it was somehow possible for the boy you liked to get even cuter than he already was.

“Here, press the paws and the ears move,” you hand him the paws that dangled from the side of the hat and experimentally press one of them to demonstrate.

Mark spends the next few minutes pressing the ears at varying intervals and laughing at his reflection in the mirror.

“You know, maybe I should get upset more often. You’re great with gifts.”

Rolling your eyes, you retort, “Sure thing, honey.”

  -----

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 38

THE ROAD SO FAR

The EIGHT-Thirty Appointment

John 'Soap' MacTavish

London, UK

Following the events of Shepherd's surrender to authorities, the members of Task Force 141 who went rogue in pursuit of him had been exonerated from treason. This meant that from then on, life would be a little more 'normal'. No more hiding in public, no more lack of equipment, no more secret hiding areas.

This prompted Laswell to recreate the task force she once poured her heart on, with a few changes to its jurisdiction. With Ghost, Roach and Alexandra still recovering, the remaining members were invited to celebrate their success.

"So John, now that 141 is back your main focus will be Nero. Do you want the reassigned members back?" Laswell asked Price while they exited the building. Soap overheard this because he thought he was the John being called.

"If it's still okay and not much of a hassle, then yes." Price replied.

"What about Kyle?" Laswell added.

"No. Not yet. Just keep an eye on him." Price mused and turned to Soap, who quickly turned to focus back on Alex as he pushed his wheelchair.

"Excuse me, Captain Price. Can we talk for a moment?" Samantha interrupted as they stopped on their tracks. Alex turned out of curiosity, wondering what matter they were discussing.

"Hey hey hey. What was that about?" Alex asked Soap and France, who continued walking. Laswell turned to the next right as she already finished her conversation with Price, waving at Alex and the rest of the 141.

Soap chuckled at the CIA. This was about Samantha's surprise for him and he shouldn't spoil it.

"Well, with 141 back maybe she just wanted to know where she will be now. Nero no longer needs the IP Address and she's been through a lot." France reasoned, making Alex frown.

"You know… I want her safe and all but I also want her within my reach. I've lost her far too many times already. I'm not going to lose her again." Alex grumbled making Soap and France look at each other, their faces were worried at their sorry excuse.

"I think Samantha feels the same way too. Maybe she's bargaining for staying at 141." Soap lied, making France question him quietly.

"You know what, Alex? Don't overthink this." Soap tapped his shoulders reassuringly.

"Overthink what?" Samantha inserted. They fell quiet and Samantha slowly asked Soap to let her push Alex as they moved forward, Samantha being excited of what's next.

"Well, we did a great job. I guess." Soap quietly commented sarcastically, earning a soft elbow from France.

"Ow!" he exaggerated and turned to France, his face looked bewildered.

"Way to go, John." She sneered and followed the two on their way to their appointment, riding Soap's trusty jeep.

The drive to the surprise area consisted of mostly Soap and Francine acting like couples while they drove. Soap could see the two murmuring at each other whenever Soap would argue with France on whatever's going on in the road.

"I always wanted to try out some London restaurants." she mused, looking at the place they just passed by.

"Yeah? I could see you as the fancy kind." he chuckled at his guess.

"What does that mean?" France gave him a suspicious glare. Soap looked at her, feigning surrender.

"I just said it as is. You're the kind of person who would want fancy stuff." He explained, focusing back on the road.

"I-"

"Come on. You don't have to read everything I say between the lines. Sometimes, I'm just a simple man" he whined and Alex and Samantha burst out laughing, causing the two to be quiet.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on with you two?" Samantha asked, making the silence a little bit more awkward.

Soap carefully rolled his eyes toward Francine, who was actually looking down and blushing. He really had no definitive stance on whatever's going on between them, and if you ask him, he'd love to assume that they're already together. But he remembered that he told her that he'll be patient, and that's the only thing that's hindering him from taking her to the next level.

"Well…" Francine croaked, her voice was shaky and Soap was actually worried that she was already under pressure.

"We're here." Soap interrupted, wishing he did the right thing. Alex quickly looked outside to see where they actually were.

"What is this place, Soap? Where did you bring us?" Alex asked and Soap just nodded.

"I'll let your girl fill in everything for you. This was her idea after all and we're here to help her out." Soap replied as he assisted him to his wheelchair and watched the two enter the establishment.

He then knocked on Samantha's door as she was still out of focus.

"There's a coffee shop across the street, we could wait there until they finish." He invited her for another coffee date. Hopefully this time, there would be no more emp phone wielding persons to interrupt it.

"About Samantha's question…" She muttered.

"Don't pressure yourself about it. You actually owe me for saving you, by the way." He chuckled, already opening her door.

France slowly stepped down the vehicle and turned to Soap, her head looked up to his face.

"Look John. There's no other reason I can think of that would make you wait anymore. I really enjoy your company, your personality, and I'm curious about everything else about you. So, if you've been waiting all this time ever since that night, my answer is that I'm ready." She smiled, and John's eyes widened at the sight of her. The message made him hug her tight, lift her up and spin her around briefly while she giggled at the feeling.

"Wow. You don't know how much you made my day, France!" he sighed as he slowly set her down and closed the door and made their way to the coffee shop.

"I missed these so much!" France happily chewed on a slice of blueberry cheesecake, with a few crumbs stuck on the edge of her mouth. Soap smiled as she watched her enjoy the simple things in life, a thing he was always looking for in women.

Most of his dating life were his parents setting him up on business dates and most women there were far too serious. They looked like they haven't enjoyed anything in years. Some of them admittedly loved to have fun, but their idea of fun was far too complicated. Like expensive travels and luxurious shopping sprees, none of them piqued Soap's interest.

However, Francine was the first one who begged to differ. It's like every great idea in John's activity book is enjoyable for her. Simple things such as Netflix, Cinemas and even this coffee shop date, made her smile.

"What's funny?" Francine asked as she noticed the odd smile on his face.

"Oh nothing… you just looked cute eating that whole thing. It makes me want to buy a whole cake and watch you smile and eat that all day." he mused, imagining how things would've been if they weren't in public. He could've been tasting that cake from her mouth already.

He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped off the crumbs as Francine blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't notice it was there." she blushed shyly and looked down.

"Nah… why apologize. I was thinking you were hinting at me to kiss you. Like what most movies and cliché shows would mean." He scoffed and sipped on his coffee.

"Ha ha. Well you could try. As if I'd let you." She smiled bravely, but Soap could see her weakness behind that smile. She's raising her guard up again, and it's always like that when people are around.

"Wow. Umm that went differently." Soap commented, attempting to let France open up. This has been a common trend with her lately, toughening up when people are around but when they're alone, she's still strict but less tense.

"I'm sorry. It's just-" She hesitated and turned to the window.

"Say, how long would it take for them to finish?" She asked. Soap also turned to the building and shrugged.

"I don't know. Honestly, I'm excited for him. They make the best prosthetics around here and it'd make Alex's life easier. It'll look and weigh and bend like an actual leg." he said proudly as he turned to France who was looking at him weirdly.

"What?" he asked as he checked his phone which just beeped.

"Actually, they're almost done. And they're asking for an order. I'll just go get some for them, you stay here." He added, holding the thought, wiping his face and proceeded to the counter.

The reformed Task Force 141 would soon be back in business as papers were already approved by the board. They'll be situating themselves on American soil as their previous base was compromised by the traitorous General.

As for their last day on English soil, the rest of the team stayed in a penthouse condominium unit owned by the MacTavishes.

"Wow. This is top class!" Samantha mused as Alex plopped himself on the couch, his new leg quickly rested on the table. He's been in it for only a few hours but he already got the hang of it.

Samantha shot a glare at Alex's actions to which he shrugged on, prompting Soap to reply.

"Don't worry Samantha, make yourselves at home. We don't use this place anyway so help yourselves out. I promise it'll be fine." he eased as Samantha slowly plopped down beside him as Alex's arm rested on her shoulders. Soap actually wondered if he could do that to her too, get comfortable, open up, just normal stuff.

"I'll go get tea." he quickly said to himself as his imagination got the best of him as he walked to the kitchen. France quickly followed him to help out.

"Fancy place you got here, John. I wonder how many girls you've brought in here." She mused standing in front of him, helping with the teacups. Soap eyed her for a second and replied.

"Honestly, I can't count. I used to stay here when I studied and that was years ago." he replied as seriously as possible, looking at the changes on her face. She's actually jealous.

"Yeah. Figures. I saw your photos from earlier years. It was no doubt you'd have a lot of women over." She chuckled, nervously at it. Soap saw through her as she started to get curious about his life. A sign that she's ready to stop lowering her guard. Soap on the other hand, wanted her to feel special. Asking her out as soon as possible would make him come out as a desperate one, so he planned to do it the long traditional way. Which he actually despised, he would want to hug her so tight right now and it was already killing him.

"What about you? How many different rooms did you wake up to already?" he asked, changing the subject as she was already starting to feel bad about her question.

"Me?! Only a few. And most of them were owned by you. I've been very serious about my life choices that I never let myself loose." she sighed as Soap raised an eyebrow.

"Let loose? Like going out to parties?" He added.

"Yes. But broader. Like letting myself loose. I've always followed the path I wanted to be in, not letting any distractions bother me." she explained, blushing at it like it's a secret she was too shy to tell. Soap on the other hand, didn't quite get it.

"So you mean…" He tilted his head.

"Yes. Since birth, I never had a boyfriend." she looked down in embarrassment for the second time today.

Soap gulped. He didn't actually know how to respond to her statement. Sure he wanted to be the first one, but now wasn't the time. It would feel forced. And he wasn't a fan of forced relationships.

The kettle whistled and the two of them quickly responded to it as they both reached out for it, their hands met just by the handle.

"I'll take care of this one." She said as Soap slowly let go of her soft hands and watched her pour it on, carrying it to Samantha and Alex who were already giggling through a romcom.

"Way to go, John." he muttered to himself with a sigh as he ran his hand on his hair.

The day actually felt worse as France continued to remain quiet towards Soap as she invested herself on the television, third wheeling on Alex and Samantha.

Soap pondered about the words he chose to say to her and those he didn't over a steamy shower.

With the place having only two bedrooms, it was inevitable that France would sleep beside him but he also considered sleeping on the couch to respect her privacy or something like that.

As soon as he exited the bathroom, he saw France already tucked on her side of the bed, scrolling through her phone.

"Hey there." he muttered as she rolled her eyes to him and back to her phone.

"Hey." she said nonchalantly, her eyes dead focused on her screen. Soap quickly grabbed his nighttime clothes and slipped them on.

"Are you in any way excited for tomorrow?" he asked, trying to keep her from interacting with him.

"Yeah. A little." she said as she turned to him and smiled.

"Listen, about earlier today, in the kitchen..." he said.

"I'm not mad, John. I just wanted to say it out there so you could understand me."

"Tell me what you feel."

"Embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Because I looked like a fool earlier. When I told you I was ready and now I feel that you're the one who isn't. You told me you would wait but-" Soap placed his hand on her face, gently touching her cheek.

"France. You don't have to worry. You're still the one I'm thinking about every second. I just… wanted to do this the slow and steady way, where I would show off how worthy I am for you. I want you to enjoy the whole John MacTavish Experience." he smiled and she slowly turned her frown upside down.

Soap wanted to take a picture of that smile and plaster it all around the room as his heart started to pound like crazy, his face unknowingly moving closer to hers. They both started to close their eyes as they let their lips do the talking, but in a quiet and intimate way. Soap felt France's greed for his kiss as she slowly learned how to beg for more of him. It was true that she had no experience on these things but something told him that she's starting to learn some tricks herself.

Soap didn't hesitate to retaliate as she released a soft groan, a sign of her being content as her hands slowly grazed his arms, her thumb softly pressed his biceps, digging deeper as their tongues clashed. After a few more seconds, they both broke their kiss as they gasped for air.

"Yeah. Go sleep on the floor before we do something stupid." She giggled and Soap nodded in agreement as they quickly shuffled about, set their beds and called it a night.

Next Chapter - The SEVEN Inch Wound

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @bumblingbee1 @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

[troop-scoop]

Birthdays || Steve. H

Request: Steve taking care of reader on her birthday cause she’s having her period on the same day. she’s having terrible cramps so Steve and the kids need to cancel their plans for the party, but they’re worried about the reader too. timeline can be after s3 or in between s2 and s3, you decide hehe. love ya! -✨

(sparkle anon, I literally love you sm <3 and HAPPY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY!!!!) 

Warnings: period cramps.

Word Count: 1061

A/N: the last request I wrote was for a friend, and it was also about cramps and stuffs, and at the time, I hadn’t ever had cramps before. And since then, I have. and um. . . ow.

• • •

Everything wasn’t going to plan, on either of your ends. 

Steve wanted to throw you a birthday party, and the moment he came back to your shared home with the cake he’d bought from the only bakery in Hawkins that was mediocre, you were on the kitchen floor, in an odd position. 

Your leg was hooked over an open cabinet, the other on reaching the counter. It was a hard position to describe, but you looked like a broken child’s toy. 

“Babe?” Steve questioned, putting the white box on the counter, away from your barefoot that was lazily thrown onto the cheap white material that was always stained. 

“Hm?” You responded, dramatically turning your head to look at him, hair being tossed in front of your face. 

“Why are you on the floor? I thought you were gonna go pick out movies? Keith said he’d give you a discount.”

When Steve and Robin had talked about your birthday coming up, and how the two of you just bought the VCR for the TV, and wanted to start collecting VHS tapes, Keith offered to give you a discount on the movies to buy or rent. 

You made some sort of grunt, or maybe it was a gurgle or mumble. 

“What?” He asked, kneeling down next to you grabbing onto the open cabinet for balance as you stared at each other. 

“Who decided that I should be punished for not conceiving a baby? This is bullshit and I hate it.” You grumbled, once again dramatically turning away. “Baby’s are evil anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah don’t say that in front of my mom.” But he understood the sentiment you had.

You only grumbled in response, but while it did take him a second, he soon realized why you were grumbling. Because it wasn’t really a grumble, but you trying to keep your pain to yourself. 

“Come on.” He told you, unhooking your leg from the cabinet and bringing the other to the ground from the counter. 

“What?” 

“You’re having cramps, right?” 

Your cheeks flushed bright red and all he could do was sigh before helping you into a sitting position. 

He picked you up from off the ground, carrying you to the couch and laying you down on the green cushions. You never really had much of a choice in most of what the furniture looks liked. Two highschool graduates who worked part time at a video rental store that almost went out of business because of the rental store that had once been in the mall, couldn’t really afford brand new furniture. Most of it was second hand. 

“Stay.”

“I’m not a dog,” You mumbled as he walked away, disappearing into the hallway. 

Within a few seconds you could hear the hall closet being opened and him rummaging through it. He came back, without closing the closet, with an ice pouch in hand and a fleece blanket you’d brought from home. 

“How is the ice pack supposed to help?”

“I can put hot water in it. . . that can help right? I mean I got leg cramps all the time when I played basketball.” You let him ramble a bit, letting him figure it out when he noticed you didn’t try to interrupt him. “Right um. . . hot water?” He suggested. 

You gave a small smile and nodded, reaching out for the blanket. 

Steve called the kids, and Robin, letting them know that they couldn’t have the party today. You weren’t a big fan of the plans that they’d put together anyway. You were never one for big parties, having always had them as a kid. You really just wanted to stay inside anyway.

You were pretty sure their plans were to take you to the pizza place that had just opened up in downtown Hawkins. Not that it was really a downtown compared to big cities. It wwas just where most of the stores were, as well as town hall. 

With the warm ice pack on your abdomen, you’d relaxed a bit more into the couch with your blanket. You had a bottle of water from the fridge next to you, while Steve turned the air on. “What do you wanna watch?” He asked, walking over to you, basically hovering. 

“Do we still have our Highlander VHS? Or did we lend it to the boys when they went to visit Will and El?” 

He sighed a bit, “We lent it to them like three months ago and I have yet to see it.” 

You chuckled a bit, grimacing as another cramp came and left. “What about Empire Strikes Back?” You asked.  

“What?”

“Star Wars, Steve.” You reminded. “The second one.”

“So not the one with teddy bears?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “No,” 

He smiled down at you before leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek, going to the stack of VHS tapes you had begun to collect. There were only a few, and oftentimes you guys just watched TV instead. 

You took an occasional sip of water and tried to get into a comfortable position where the cramps weren’t as bad, and when Steve had gotten the VHS into the player, and it started playing, You’d gone to having your head in his lap, your arms wrapped around his knees like a pillow. 

You’d gotten comfy, and halfway through the movie, you were turning to face Steve, the cramps subsiding a bit. 

“They were worried about you, by the way.” He pointed out, playing with the ends of your hair. 

“Yeah?” 

He hummed in response as the sound of basters echoed through the apartment from the TV. “Dustin and Lucas asked if you were dying.” 

You shook your head a bit. “They’re also boys who don’t have older sisters.”

“Mike just said ‘okay’”

“Because Nancy, and his mom. . . What did you say?” 

“You were having girl issues.” He shrugged a bit. “And that I needed to stay here.” He smiled a bit, and in return you smiled back. 

“Yeah, that’s not very subtle.” You told him with a laugh. “Maybe we can have the party tomorrow? But we can order it for pickup? That way we can all just a night in.” 

He nodded in response. “That sounds fair.” He told you. “Happy birthday by the way. I know I said it this morning, but I need to say it again.”

• • • 

Add yourself to the taglist!

@jxnehxpper​ @willowrose99​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ilovebucketbarnes​ @mochminnie​ @big_galaxy_chaos @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs

[bangtanoneshotsx]

Written in Icing-Yoongi

There was a local bakery down the street from your apartment. Along with their bread and pastries, they also made custom cakes—nothing extravagant, just a round a square cake with your message of choice. Somehow the simple cake with piped writing became pinnacle in your relationship with Yoongi.

   “Where’d you get the cake from?” Yoongi asked, using his fork to take another piece from his small slice. 

   “The neighbours gave it to me to welcome me to the building.” As Yoongi nodded, his cheeks swelled with cake, frosting covering his bottom lip. 

   “That’s nice, what’s he like?” Rolling your eyes, you took a seat next to him on the sofa, bringing your own plate.

   “She’s lovely.” Blushing, Yoongi shrugged, turning to find the television remote to turn on the TV. 

   Yoongi was your best friend. You had known each other since you were in diapers due to your fathers being best friends. Your fathers had always commented on how you two would get married. When you were younger, of course, that disgusted you, but recently the idea didn’t seem so bad. Ever since the last dance as a high school student, you thought there might be something more between the two of you. Something unspoken. 

You sat on the brick wall in your prom dress, your legs swinging as they ached from wearing heels for four hours. 

   “Thought I’d find you here,” Yoongi spoke, announcing himself. His shirt was now mainly undone, his hair pushed back with sweat as his tie lay sprawled across his chest. 

   “Yeah, I just needed some fresh air.”

   “It is boiling in there.” There, was the school hall where your prom was located. The senior year group was split in between the people socialising and dancing in the hall and the people grabbing a snack in the cafeteria. You had come with Yoongi, though you were quickly separated when Yoongi’s friend, Hoseok, grabbed him, pulling him to the photo booth your high school rented for the night. 

   “I know, it’s slightly cooler in the cafeteria but not much. You okay?” You gave a soft sigh, your shoulders dropping. 

   “Yeah, I’m just feeling sentimental I guess.”

   “Why?”

   “We’ve spent so many years together, but most of it was at school. I guess I’ll miss having you around.”

   “Hey!” Yoongi exclaimed, pushing you slightly. “What makes you think you can get rid of me?” Giggling, another sigh escaped you.

   “I should’ve known I wouldn’t be so lucky.” Sticking out his tongue, Yoongi chuckled.     

   “You know I’ll always stay with you. I love you, Y/N.” Your heart pounded at the three words though you knew they were meant platonically. Silence covered the two of you for a few minutes as you looked at each other. Your heart was the only thing you could hear as you swore you could see Yoongi’s cheeks flush red.

   “I love you two Yoongi.” Yoongi grinned, jumping off of the brick wall. Sticking his hand out, he did a slight bow.

   “Now, I think you promised me a dance.” With a breathy laugh, you took his hand, jumping down off of the wall and walking back inside.

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

Yoongi had been distant recently, busier than usual. While you were worried about his health, you knew it was nothing unusual. After university, he had gotten a job at a local studio as a producer. This meant that late nights and texts from you, making sure he was still alive became a regular thing. However, recently it had become more extreme, with him not even bothering to reply to your texts. Thankfully, tonight was your movie night, something you knew Yoongi wouldn’t miss. 

True enough, at seven on the dot, your doorbell rang. You opened the door to find Yoongi, holding a cake box that wore the logo of the bakery down the street.

   “What’s the occasion?” Red flushed to Yoongi’s cheeks as he shrugged. 

   “Celebrating hopefully.” With a raised eyebrow, you watched as he placed the white box on the round wooden table in your kitchen. With a sigh, he backed up, gesturing you forward.

   “Well, do you want to open it?” Slowly, you took a step forward, confusion still flooding your veins. With a pop, the lid became unstuck, lifting slightly until you pushed it all the way. A gasp left you as you read the piped writing. “Will you go on a date with me?” 

   “Yoongi?” You asked hesitantly, turning to face your nervous best friend. He wore a thin smile, his ears matching his red cheeks. 

   “Well?” A laugh escaped you as you brought him into a hug.

   “Of course!” 

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

It had been a couple of months since Yoongi asked you out via cake. Things were going well, but you weren’t quite sure what the two of you were. You knew you loved him, but you didn’t know what his stance on the relationship was. That is until Yoongi knocked on your door, a familiar white box in his hand. With a quick kiss over the box, you stepped aside, you allowed him to enter your apartment, placing the box once more on the wooden table. Yoongi was less nervous this time, though you could tell there was still some doubt within him. 

       “You okay?” 

   “Yeah, just open the box please.” You smiled at Yoongi’s desperation, purposefully slowing down your actions until you heard a huff from him. Once again, he had used the cake to ask you a question. This time, written in pink icing was “Will you be my girlfriend?” You could feel tears at the brim of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around Yoongi’s neck, placing your lips softly on his.

   “Of course.” He could only grin, relief flooding through him, as his pounding heart stilled. The night was spent together on the sofa, date plans forgotten as you both ate too many slices of cake, neither of you wanting buttercream for at least a month. 

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

Your cheeks were stained with tears, your head pounding and your stomach full of ice cream. A couple days ago you and Yoongi had your first big fight. Big enough that it caused Yoongi to storm out the door. He hadn’t texted you, not since that night. You knew that you both probably said stuff that you didn’t mean, that you regretted, but it still hurt to see him leave like that. God knows, what your relationship was now, all you knew was that you needed him back. Needed to speak to him, to tell him that you loved him. That you still wanted to be with him. The fight was caused by his late nights at the studio, his tendency to forget date nights and important events. But you would work something out, you had to. With the way it hurt just now, you weren’t so sure you could take the pain if he permanently left.

In the middle of your romantic film marathon, your doorbell rang. With a sigh, you placed your half-empty carton of chocolate ice cream on the table in front of you. Sliding off the blanket you wore around your shoulders and got up. Trudging to the door, you gave a sniffle, quickly checking your reflection in the mirror in your hallway. Your cheeks and nose were red, your eyes puffy and bloodshot. You looked a mess, but honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

Opening your front door, you found nobody. Cursing whatever teenager decided that game was still fun, you looked down only to freeze. On your doormat sat a white cake box, the logo from the bakery proudly on the front. Stepping out into your hall slightly, you looked around only to find it empty. With a soft sigh, your heart aching you picked it up, bringing it to the wooden table in the kitchen.

  “I’m really sorry, I still love you.” You found a smile breaching your lips for the first time in days as you took your phone, dialling the familiar number. 

   “Yoongi.” You spoke out, your voice cracking. As he gave a soft hum, you could hear the emotion in his voice. “Do you wanna help me eat this cake someone left for me?” You could hear a sigh of relief. 

   “Sure.” He whispered out quietly, the doorbell ringing a few minutes later. 

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

When you moved into your shared apartment, you threw a housewarming party. For the first time, the cake from the bakery didn’t have a question written on it, just a simple floral decoration. You had now moved away from the bakery. However, Yoongi insisted on still buying from there, arguing it was an important piece in your relationship. You had been together for three years, you wouldn’t say it had been easy, but it was worth it. The arguments were worth it when you came home to him when he surprised you when you heard those three words like it was the first time. 

Slipping off your flats, you pulled your hair ties keeping your ponytail secure, letting your hair flow. Shouting into the apartment, you were only met with your white cat, who lazily came to investigate, a yawn and a judgmental stare sent your way.

   “Nice to see you too.” You muttered, petting her quickly before going to the second bedroom that you had turned into a studio. Finding no Yoongi you pulled out your phone, finding a text he must have sent you while you were driving, saying he was going to be late. 

He arrived only ten minutes after you, his hair slightly damp from the rain that had just started. A white box from the bakery was in his hands. Greeting him, you placed a peck on his lips, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

   “Am I missing anything?” Shaking his head, Yoongi let out a shaky breath. 

   “Can I tell you something?” Nodding, you could feel your heart start to race as you tried to figure out what was happening.

   “Y/N, you know I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. Thankfully, I finally got the courage to say something. We’ve been together for a few years, and it’s naturally the next step. I mean, that’s not why I’m doing it, I really want to, but I don’t know I thought it was the perfect time, and it might not be the best way or most romantic way to ask you but... Y/N, can you just open the box?” Yoongi cut off his rambling with a frustrated sigh, the tips of his ears red. Lifting the lid of the cake box, you stumbled backwards as you read the piped icing. “Will you marry me?” Turning to face Yoongi to check this was real, you found him with a nervous smile, holding out an open ring box.

   “Of course!” With your arms around him, your lips on his and a new ring on your finger, you couldn’t feel any happier. Who knew that a simple bakery in the corner of the street next to your cheap apartment would become so important?

[yikesharringrove]

Happy Trans Billy Week!

Day 3: Bakery/Chef!au

@transbillyhargrove @blurbwitch

Harringrove

-

BIlly is ftm, Stevie is mtf

-

“At least just try her stuff. She’s really good!”

Robin was trying to sell Billy on her friend, again.

He had been working his ass off opening this cafe, had been interviewing professional bakers around the city for it. And Robin wanted him to hire her friend. Who baked for fun.

“And she’ll work in house! You would just have to pay her a salary, not give her a cut of everything sold.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“But then I would have to buy all the shit for her to bake everything.”

“But you’ll make bank on her stuff. She makes these little doughnut things, but they’re double fried and made with like, puff pastry.

“So not a doughnut at all.” She slapped his chest.

“Fuck you. People would pay like, five whole dollars for one ‘a those. At least just try.”

“Fine. Have her bring me some samples of stuff on Monday. I want cookies, coffee cakes, specialty pastries, crossiants, and whatever that not-doughnut thing is.” Robin grinned at him.

-

Robin came in on Monday trying to awkwardly bring a giant box into the cafe.

“Stevie couldn’t make it. She had a doctor’s appointment or something. But anyway, here’s what you asked for.” She placed it down on a table, pointing at everything.

“So she made chocolate chip cookies, gingersnaps, snickerdoodles, and teas cookies, croissants, coffee cake, carrot cake, chese cake, that doughnutty-thing, actual doughnuts, brownies and lemon bars. I think she didn’t sleep for like, four days.”

Billy was impressed. It was a good spread.

“She also made me bring a loaf of sourdough in case you’re doing like, toast stuff. I said you weren’t, but I think she feels bad for not being here.”

They tried everything.

And unfortunately, is was all fucking delicious.

“Fine. She’s fucking hired.” Billy made a list of everything he wanted to sell, thought maybe the delicious not-doughnuts could be a bit of a speicality, new flavors every week. “I’ll need a comprehensive list of ingredients, and she’ll probably have to check out the set up we got here.”

Billy hadn’t really wanted an in-house baker, but he hadn’t ripped out the ovens, proving drawers, coolers and counters in the back, so he supposed it would work out okay.

“And tell her I want an in person meeting within the next few days.”

-

Billy was scrubbing out one of the ovens in the back when he heard the bell above the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” He called.

“Um, I’m Stevie Harrington? I’m Robin’s baker friend? You said I should come see the space?” Billy got up with a groan, stretching until his back popped.

“You tellin’ me, or askin’.” He pushed open the back door, smirking at the girl standing on the other side of his counter. She was tall, had much fucking dark hair, falling almost to her ass and big round eyes.

“Telling. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday. That appointment was important. Billy shrugged. “I have a list of ingredients for you. I figured how many of each item per day, and broke it up into waht I would need weekly and monthly, since I don’t know how you’re planning on ordering everything.” Billy nodded at the neat handwriting.

“Your stuff was good. I was thinking for those double fried things, we could do a new flavor every week. Make them a bit of a specialty.” Her cheeks went a little pink.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you liked everything, and decidded to give me this opportunity.” He smiled at her.

“You’re talented. Come see what I got.” She followed him to the back, her eyes going wide as she looked at the industrial ovens. “This place was a bakery, so we’ve got everything you should need.” The old owner had passed away, didn’t have anyone to leave the bakery to.

“Oh, this is perfect. When’s opening?”

“We’re four weeks out. I was planning on ripping all this out, so it has to be cleaned, but everything else is ahead of schedule.” Stevie opened an oven, peerinf inside.

“They’re not too gross. The old owners tool good care of everything.” She took of her jacket, was left just in her pretty dark blue dress. “I’ll help you clean.” She smiled at him as she took the cleaning supplies from him, getting to work scrubbing down the oven.

Billy played some music as they worked, chatting lightly to one another.

“So, how’d you end up in Seattle?” Billy had shot straight up here after graduating hisgh school, didn’t want to leave the west coast, but wanted to go somewhere different. Stevie had mentioned being from a small town in the midwest.

“Just kinda needed a fresh start. Robin and I moved out here together about six years ago, now. She went to University of Washington, and I jsut wanted to live somewhere interesting for once. Plus, it’s just better for me here.” Billy nodded.

“Me too.” She smiled at him. She had put her dark hair into a messy bun to keep it out of her face, and Billy had gotten her an apron to keep her dress neat.

“What made you want to open a cafe?”

“Well, I mean, it’s Seattle.” She laughed. “But I also just liked the idea of running my own business. Building something from the ground up. And I like the vibe of cafes. They’re just in between places. You can come alone and just hang out.”  Billy had gotten many comfortable mis-matched chairs and placed them amoungst the tables and chairs. He wasnted it to be cozy. He had bookshelves on one wall, thought he could even have a take-a-book-leave-a-book kinda thing goin’ on.

“I think that’s really nice.”

-

Stevie started coming over everyday to help him clean out the kitchen. Somteims she would drag Robin, but more often than not, it was just the two of them, scrubbing everything out, listening to music and talking about random things.

But one day Stevie didn’t come in, didn’t call Billy to let him know, didn’t send Robin with a message.

Billy thought he was frustrated that his employee was missing, but really, he was just worried.

She looked tired the next day when she came in, her hair up in a messy ponytail, was wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt.

“I’m so sorry. I promise that will not happen again.” She had gotten right to work.

“Look, I don’t mind if you need personal days, just call me. Let me know.” She nodded at him, her eyes were bright. “Are you okay?” Her lip trembled.

“I’m sorry. I just, sometimes I have such bad days, and I can’t stand to look at myself, and I don’t want anyone else to look at me. And you’re always so nice to me, and I, I didn’t want you looking at me with your pretty eyes. I knew I would fucking fall apart.”

She was kneeling on the floor, fucking crying as she scrubbed at the proving drawer. Her make up was beginning to run just a bit.

Billy grabbed a fw paper towels, sitting down next to her.

“You wanna talk about it?” She shook her head.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” She wiped at her esys, smudging the dark makeup underneath. He took the paper towel from her hands, wiping up streaked makeup.

He was staring into her big dark eyes, noticed the soft honey gold in them, the forest green.

“Is it okay if I kissed you?” Her gaze dropped to his lips.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

Billy leaned in, kissing her softly, keeping it slow and chaste.

He pulled back, dabbing at her eyes again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while. I’m sorry, that probably wasn’t the best timing, I just, I really like you.” Her lip trembled.

“The reason, the reason I was feeling so bad yesterday was, was because everytime I speak to my parents on the phone, they call me their son.” She swallowed hard.

“The last time I spoke to my dad, he called me his ungrateful bitch of a daughter. I get it, Stevie. I really do.” Stevie whimpered, another tear slipping out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t, didn’t know if I could tell you.” He smiled at her, wiping her eyes one last time, kissing her cheek.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell anyone anything.” She gave a watery laugh.

“Thank you, for being kind to me.”

“You’re a good person, Stevie. You deserve kindness.” She smiled at him, pulling back to take a deep breath. “And I meant what I said. I really like you. I’d like to take you on a date, if that’s okay.”

She nodded vigorously, ponytail bouncing.

“Oh, yeah! I had the biggest crush on you since I walked in here. I mean, Robin’s been trying to set us up for like, months.” BIlly raised one eyebrow, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Are you serious? Is that why she was so insistent on me trying your stuff?”

“Well, and that fact that I’m a damn good baker.” He laughed. She was grinning as she moved back to scrubbing the drawer. “She’s gonna be so smug. I can already hear her. Stevie, I TOLD you that you would love him. He’s JUST yout type.” Billy grinned iwder.

“And what is your type?”

“Beefy assholes that’re way smarter than me.”

[sabreean]

One word for you...

Where I have not gone plastic-free:

Bread box: There are no plastic-free, airtight bread boxes that I’ve been able to find and I *must have* airtight. I make my own bread in a bread machine just because I like to, and the first few loaves I made here on the humid island grew mold within three days because my old bread box was not airtight. Bread bags are more eco-friendly but aren’t airtight, and will hold the humidity. I could find no silicon boxes and also could not find silicone containers/bags that I could be sure would be big enough to hold a loaf of bread and still close completely. I’m considering a giant silicone bag I found online, for marinating meat, so if I get that I can see if a loaf will fit inside. But I haven’t pulled the trigger on that yet, buying something just to marinate meat doesn’t fall neatly into the “I really need it now” category. So I purchased a BPA-free plastic, airtight box and it seems to be working very well. It’s so airtight that I was able to store bananas in it as well and there has been no sign of fruit flies.

Suncare: I spent two days working on the porch. I was under a roof in shade the entire time but I sunburn if I stand next to a toaster, so at the end of the second day I looked like Roy Neary in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. As in the right half of my face was bright red. I wasn’t wearing sunscreen because it breaks me out. All of it. Every single sunscreen ever. They all break out my face, neck and chest within 20 minutes of application. So I did some research and learned about mineral sunscreens versus chemical sunscreens and after reading a lot of recommendations and reviews, I ordered Alba Botanica Sensitive Mineral Sunscreen. Yes the tube is plastic, but there’s probably no avoiding that. The sport cream is 45 SPF, waterproof for up to 80 minutes, vegan, free of all the chemicals that turn my face into a Marscape, biodegradable and - get this - reef safe. That’s a “gee how nice” for most people but now that I’m swimming around coral reefs, shit got real. They also make a spray-on but it’s not legal to ship aerosol cans to Hawaii, something about them exploding under pressure blah-bibby-blah. Pretty bummed about that. For those wondering, until now I’ve worn a sun visor whenever I’m outdoors but it didn’t occur to me to wear it on a covered porch. I’m sure it didn’t occur to Roy on a dark deserted highway in the middle of an Indiana night, either. LATER UPDATE: Native makes a mineral sunscreen and I thought it wasn't water resistant, but it turns out that it is, although I should not have had to dig so deep into their website to find this out. Better than getting anal probed, all things considered. The Alba sunscreen is very thick and hard to squeeze out of the tube, and you can feel it on your skin at first but you forget pretty quickly. It is completely unscented. You have to make sure to rub it in well if you don’t want to look a little weird. It showers off clean and easy and after a few days with it, not a single blemish! Our pharmacy sells some water resistant mineral sunscreens. I didn’t price them the last time I was there to compare with online ordering and they are probably reef-safe because as of January 1 of this year, suncreeens containing oxybenzone and octinoxate are banned in Hawaii to protect the reefs. But my next purchase will be Little Hands because it is made right here in Hawaii. I have been a big believer in ‘buy local’ for many years and they are plastic-free.

Groceries: Groceries haven’t changed. I’ve been using cloth shopping and produce bags for many years, they just bloody well work better. I do buy some foods in plastic, often there just isn’t any alternative. This was true even on the mainland. The main change is that now I walk to the store more often than not. I was able to walk to almost everything I needed when I lived in Austin’s SoCo in the early aughts and I loved it, I am so so happy to be able to do that again. Knowing I’m just a pleasant stroll away also means that I only buy what I need in the immediate future. There are a few exceptions for items that sell out very soon after the weekly supply barge comes, and don’t always get restocked even then. I drive when I have to buy heavy or awkward to carry things, like a case of soda. I’ve found conflicts with grocery choices because of a weird contradiction: non-hippie products in cardboard/paper packaging versus hippie products in plastic. I first noticed this when I went to buy sugar the other day - do I get the organic non bleached sugar in the plastic bag, or the nonorganic bleached sugar in the plastic bag? It wasn’t much of a conflict in any real world sense, just something that grabbed my attention. (I went with the plastic by the way, for the organic foodstuff that was going to go into my body).

Probably the clothesline, I have no idea what the hell that thing is made of, most likely nylon. We don’t use it for everything because it’s too humid here to dry everything in a reasonable amount of time. But we use it for some things - especially towels and swim wear - and I’m glad that we have it and it saves money on electricity. Our electricity generation here on the island is likely solar but still, no need to be greedy about it. Lots of people here have clotheslines, they are a common sight I am glad to see.

Bandages: I use Wellys. Patch bamboo bandages sound great, but I am clumsy AF and so I need bandages that are going to stay on through wet and dry and everything else. Wellys are flexible fabric, latex-free bandages made in the USA, in reusable tins that you can buy refills for if you don’t want a new tin, and that create a seal around all four edges. They are a certified B Corp so even with a bit of plastic, the company is still in line with my ethics.

Makeup: I use mostly mineral makeup, because it lasts longer (no organic ingredients to breed bacteria) and many mineral brands offer smaller quantities that are more sensible for people who don’t wear it everyday, or at least don’t wear the same colors every day. On the mainland I went weeks without wearing makeup and here I’ll probably go for months, it’s just such a casual place. I might wear some when we go across to Maui for a long weekend. But there are a lot of all natural and plastic-free makeup options out there these days, I am glad to see. If I need to replace anything I will shop with them but it’s just stupid and wasteful to toss everything out and buy new. One thing I won’t compromise on is mascara, I use Thrive because it really does what it claims, and it is still a company that aligns with my ethics. Many zero-waste brands sell cake mascara and that’s a complete nope for me. I tried cake mascara in high school, when I was going through my Audrey Hepburn/Sophia Loren makeup phase and I really didn’t like it. I also tried cake eyeliner and must confess that this elder goth never ever got the hang of liquid eyeliner, Icarus winged better than I can. I gave up a long time ago, pencil me in baby. Also, I wear lipstick, the paint-on stuff that stays on through food, drink, sex and a nuclear blast. IMO, lip balms are a waste of money and do not count as ‘makeup’, unless you’re only intention is to prevent chapped lips and with a small amount of color that lasts few minutes at a time.

Hair brush: I need a new hair brush that is designed for my long fine mane because my hair is getting a lot of punishment here, between wind and swimming and so more frequent washing and lots of pulling and tugging into braids. I bounced back and forth between Ibiza (boar bristles, wood handle) and Mason Pearson (boar bristles, plastic handle), for about half an hour. I finally decided to bite the big one and invest in the Mason Pearson. It is universally reputed as the best hair brush to be had on planet Earth. The was company founded in London by a Yorkshireman named Mason Pearson (bet you didn’t see that coming) in 1885. The boar bristles are either shed bristles collected from the wild in India and China or sourced from the meat industry as they are a by-product of processing farmed boar; you may ask so I will answer and yes, I do eat boar. Mason Pearson is still owned and run by the Pearson family and the Pearson women have always played integral roles in the company. Indeed Mary Pearson was the CEO for the 20 years following the death of her husband, founder Mason, and one of their daughters ran the top floor of the factory on Old Ford Road in London for 50 years. You can purchase a brush with a handcrafted made-to-order wood handle but while I am willing to make the investment in a Mason Pearson brush, I just can’t bring myself to be so self-indulgent as to even send a price inquiry for the wood model. This is where my best friend reminds me of the lengths I went to and the price I paid to obtain a bottle of the finest Irish whiskey in the world to demonstrate that yes, I can be that self-indulgent without much convincing. I just can’t bring myself to do it with a hair brush. I purchased from Pasteur Pharmacy in NYC because they made their bones, if you will, in their early years in the 60s by catering to humans with dogs.

Bed blanket: I just couldn’t bring myself to buy a bamboo blanket/bedspread that costs in the $275 neighborhood when the dogs will be spending at least as much time on it as we will spend under it. So we went with half cotton/half bamboo for a much more reasonable price. The temps here are warm by the thermometer but the air is heavy with humidity (100% yesterday and that doesn’t necessarily mean rain), so when the fans blow it around it can be pretty damn chilly. And the dogs steal the covers.

Clothing: if I need new clothing I will consider bamboo but it’s damned expensive. I was shopping for a second bathing suit recently because I’m at the beach often enough that I need a suit to wear while the other one is drying or waiting to be laundered free of all the salt and sand that didn’t wind up in my ass or under my tits. I always thought that sand-in-uncomfortable-places was a joke, I was very wrong. I spent two hours searching for bamboo or other plant-based sustainable fabric or recycled fabric and found nothing under a hundred bucks. Nothing. Not even a thong bikini (I already have sand up my ass, I don’t need material there as well). I’m not lounging instagrammatically on Waikiki, I’m swimming in 5+ foot surf every weekend at least, so I am not willing to pay that much for a suit intended for plenty of use and punishment. I got a bikini because it will be easier to discreetly rinse most of the sand away before going back up the beach, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #446

“so you can throw me to the wolves  /  tomorrow i will come back, leader of the whole pack”

Favourite cheese? American. Superman or Batman? I know literally nothing of Superman, but I like Batman. Who are your best friends? The only person I consider a best friend is Sara. Name the 3 most important people in your life: My mom, Sara, and... I suppose myself since I cherish my mental health VERY deeply. Are you currently learning from anyone how to play any instruments? No. Do you know anyone who is overly flirty with people? Girl or a boy? In my personal opinion, yes. I do believe it's possible to be "overly" flirty, considering you can really lead people on. It's a she. Do you believe vampires are real? Not the stereotypical Twilight kind. No. Have you ever been to a porn website? Were you addicted to it afterword? No. I'm really not into that. What is the most disgusting thing you think the opposite sex can do? I think the most disgusting thing anyone can do is commit rape. Would you rather be able to teleport or freeze time? Which one seems best? I feel teleportation is obviously more convenient and useful in dangerous situations. Have you seen the movie Twister? Did the tornadoes look real to you? LKJFL;AKSDJFKLASJDLFKA;WE NOOOOOOOOOO. I am WAY too terrified of tornadoes to watch that. Have you actually been through a devastating natural disaster before? Hurricane Floyd was pretty devastating. I was too young to really remember it, though. Did your mom ever fix your eggs and bacon into a smiley face as a kid? She probably did. What fast food place, in your opinion, has the best french fries? BOJANGLE'S, AHHHHHHHHHHHH. Do you believe one day aliens might take over the planet Earth? I mean, it's possible, but I don't know. Do you remember when they used to actually throw candy out at parades? I didn't know they stopped. Does it bother you when people burp around you or do you do it too? I couldn't possibly care less, it's a natural bodily function. Just because of societal standards though, I don't burp in public, though, but only around family and close friends. What is one kind of music you’d do anything to not listen to in the car? Anything like rap that has a STUPIDLY loud bass that just annoys everyone within a ten mile radius. When was the last time you babysat, if ever? Did anything bad happen? A year or two ago, for my nephew. No one else was free to watch him, so I had no choice. Nothing bad happened, besides nearly having a panic attack. Do you ever talk to people you met online through webcam? Or is that weird? No. Even Sara and I don't do it, because I'm too self-conscious of how I look. Even though she's seen me plenty before irl. Would you ever consider becoming a scientist? Why would you or why not? Well, I majored in biology briefly... I wanted to be a wildlife biologist. I just adore animals and thought I could do it. I just couldn't handle school. When is the next time you’ll talk to the cousin you’re closest to? I'm not especially close to any of my cousins. Are you really into vintage things? Have you ever been into that stuff? Yessss! is writing something that you enjoy doing? Definitely. Would you rather read or write? Write. Would you rather draw or take photographs? If I wind up being very proud of the product, I prefer drawing, but I take pictures far more. When was the last time you cheated at something? I have no clue. Has anyone ever copied off of your homework assignments? I think so? Do you have any pictures of celebs saved to your computer? ... *stares at my folder labelled "Mark"* What would you consider your favorite holiday? Why is this? Christmas. I love the whole vibe of it. The weather, the smells, the treats, my niece's and nephew's excitement... I adore all the lights and decorations, the gratefulness for family and your loved ones in general... I just love Christmas. If you’re a girl, do you have big hips? Too big? I'd say my hips are normal. Girls, do you think you look good in dresses or not? God no. Not anymore. Have you ever taken a pottery class before? Nope. How many times have you seen Star Wars? Be honest. Once. I didn't like it. Has your best friend ever made you cry? Yes. But in her defense, we've both made the other cry. Have you ever entered a talent competition? God no, I ain't got shit to flaunt. Are you smiling in your Facebook profile picture? Yes. If you wear eye shadow, do you put on a dark colour or a light? And if you wear mascara, what colour is it? I only ever wear black for both of those. What is your favourite Christmas movie? Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. What do you get complimented on the most? My Markiplier tattoo, actually. What do you think of your best friend’s ex? One I REALLY don't like, the other I'm neutral about. Are you biracial? No. Do you have Pop-Tarts in your house right now? No. We try to not buy them, given they're just TOTALLY empty calories. They don't fill me at all. Is anyone’s birthday coming up? No. Does/did either of your parents serve in the military? No. Do you like sour candy? I LOVE sour candy. Where would you like to go on your honeymoon? Alaska, to see the Northern Lights. Do you usually wear sunglasses when you’re driving? I haven't driven in well over a year. Hell, maybe two. But no, because I'd need prescription sunglasses. Ignoring nutrition, could you live off veggies for the rest of your life? God no. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yeah. What time do you usually have dinner? 5:30-6:30, usually. What’s your favourite meat? Chicken, I think. What is your favourite meal of the day and why? Breakfast. I just enjoy breakfast foods. What colour is your shampoo? White. Tell me a silly little old wive’s tale you believed when you were a child: My older sister got me to believe that if you said a word a ridiculous amount of times, it'd be the only word you knew how to say anymore, lmao. Shut up, I was little. What was the last magazine you bought? Do you subscribe to any? I don't buy magazines. Whose Facebook profile did you last look at? Was there anything that caught your attention? Uh, that's a good question. Do you regret your last relationship? Not at all. What’s better, mashed potatoes or sweet potatoes? Mashed potatoes, though I'm picky with them and the texture. Did you ever used to make cookies, cakes, or pie with your grandma? No. Do you like kids? Not especially. They ask too many questions and can be really rude, even though I know they usually don't mean to be. What are you listening to? I'm watching Gab Smolders play Dino Crisis 2. I finished her playthrough of Final Fantasy X, so now I feel a void in my soul that I am trying to fill with a new series lmao. Do you burn incense? Not really anymore. I'm not against it, I just... haven't. What is your favorite kind of cracker? Cheese-Itz. Can you name a single song by Billy Joel without looking it up? Yeah; I can name a few, actually. My dad loves Billy Joel, so I heard him a lot growing up. "Piano Man" is a classic. Do you like regular peppermint candy canes, or do you prefer different flavored ones [fruits, bubble gum, cinnamon, etc.]? I actually really like the Jolly Rancher ones. Have you ever been kissed while sitting atop the hood of a car? That's actually possible... but I'm not sure. I think I have a faint memory of lying on a car hood with Jason before. What do you think is the dumbest/tackiest piercing? I don't like calling a piercing either of those, like if they make someone feel more confident and attractive, good for them. I can say I'm personally not a fan of the smiley piercing, though. Have you ever requested a song on the radio? No. When I was a kid at a birthday party, though, one of the girls did. Does your mother still take care of you if you get ill? She helps a lot, yeah. What is one song that always brings back memories every time you hear it? Honestly, too many. I attach way too aggressively to songs. Do you currently have any pimples? Not currently, no. Did anything disturb your sleep at all last night? Ugh, yes. I couldn't sleep for shit. How does it make you feel looking at pics with your ex and someone else? I have only seen one picture of Jason with the girl he dated after me and it. Set. Me. On. Fucking. Fire. It's pathetic. If you’re not in college, why? All it did was give me emotional breakdowns. What do you think about MTV? I am way too out of the loop on what goes on on any TV channel to answer this. What was your very first day of your very first job like? What’d you do? How long did it take you to get the hang of it, and feel comfortable with working? This was waaaay too long ago... All I remember is actually being hopeful, though nervous. I never got to the point of feeling comfortable there. Or at any job. If you have a dog, are they friendly to strangers or other dogs? We don't have a dog, but we do have a cat that is EXTREMELY skittish around strangers. Someone he doesn't know comes through the door? He's bolting to hide. Do people ever comment on or joke about your driving? Well, I got flipped off once by a driver, so... I'd consider that a silent comment. I, to this day, don't know why they (it was a group of guys) did it, but it's stuck with me. What was the last thing to move you? Are you easily moved or inspired? The ending of FFX alsdkfjkaljlkwjer. And yes. If you`ve ever seen your very favorite band, did you cry when you saw them? Was it like a dream come true? If you`ve never seen them, do you think you would? I haven't, but I probably would a little bit. Of all the reality competitions you’ve watched, who are some of your all-time favorite contestants and what shows were they from? From America's Got Talent, I adore(d) Landau Eugene Murphy Jr., as well as Prince Poppycock. I keep up with them both on Facebook. Ever had a friend named Alex or John? One of my closest online friends was Alex. A couple years ago she just... got a boyfriend and fell off the face of the earth. Are you happy with your relationship status? I mean... no, I'm ridiculously lonely, but being single is for the best right now. What kind of stuff do you like on your hot dogs? Just ketchup and mustard. Have you ever been in a spelling bee? No. What is the most annoying thing that your parents do? Mom absolutely always assumes she's right. Dad repeats himself like CRAZY. Would you say you’re someone who has good manners? Yes. Did you parents know what gender you were before you were born? Actually, the doctors couldn't determine mine (or any of Mom's kids') because my legs were ALWAYS crossed when they did ultrasounds. Mom says she "knew" I was a girl, though. Have you ever been addicted to something unhealthy? I'm addicted to caffeine, yes. Who makes the best desserts in your entire family? Hm, I dunno. Do you have good dreams or nightmares more? I have very severe sleep apnea that results in very violent nightmares almost any time I sleep without my APAP mask. Even WITH the damn mask, I have them a lot. When was the last time someone insulted you? What was the insult? *shrug* Do you have trouble reading small fonts? Yes. I used to find it aesthetically pleasing, but my vision is just too bad now, even with my (shitty) glasses. Do you know anybody that believes that magic/witchery truly exists? I think so. Do you find watching animals in their natural habitat to be exciting & fascinating? Absolutely!! The last time you had sex: did you want it, or did the other person want it? ... You know it's supposed to be a mutual desire, right?? What does your sibling(s) call you? "Britt." Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? Maybe? I'm unsure. Did/do you believe them? Hell no. I don't believe in psychics and believe people who claim to be so are manipulative pieces of shit. Is anything annoying you right now? I am bored to an inexplicable level askldjfla;wejlr. Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? Yeah. Anything in your room that you’re hiding from your parents or someone else? No. Have you ever felt abandoned? Well yes. By definition, my dad abandoned our family. Where are you? I’m in my bed. What’s been the worst part of this day? I've just been so, so bored. I'm sick and fucking tired of dealing with anhedonia. Who last encouraged you to better yourself? My therapist.

[foodbytesback]

I Played Every Food Game in the Indie Bundle for Palestinian Aid

In light of increased violence by the Israeli military against Palestinian civilians, several game developers have to come together to create the Indie Bundle for Palestinian Aid.  And with over 1,000 games (available at https://itch.io/b/902/indie-bundle-for-palestinian-aid until Friday for just $5, of which all profits go towards the United Nations Relief and Works Agency), it’s no surprise that there would be a handful of food-related games.  So let’s take a look at them.

I did, however, omit a few.  There were a couple of food-related text-based RPGs, which is ultimately not a medium that I’m familiar enough with to feel like I could talk about and do it justice (and also most of them required at least 2 players).  “Breakfast Cult,” ended up being more about cult stuff than breakfast stuff, which was disappointing (for the purposes of this, anyway). A couple, upon extracting the .zip files, seemed to be files of all Unity assets and no actual game, and eventually I kinda stopped caring.  Sorry if I missed any otherwise, I did my best to gleam through the over 1,000 titles in this bundle.

Ace Baker

You’re presented with a list of ingredients with names that don’t resemble any food known to man, and it’s up to you to throw things together in combinations that will result in something that resembles a baked good before your partner comes home from work.  There are icons next to each item, which vaguely suggest what it is, but the whole point is to sort of work it out yourself.  I was just barely able to get a Perfect Cake before running out of ingredients, after countless Acceptable and Dubious attempts.  

The UI was simple but effective, and I was almost a little sad that the list of fake applications off to the side couldn’t actually be accessed. Most of the dialogue (which is very slim, and basically bookends the game) with your partner, Nora, would be clunky if it wasn’t so tongue-in-cheek about how Cyberpunk-y it’s trying to be.  The repeated use of “shiny” immediately brings to mind that one Spongebob episode where everything in the future is chrome.  The fact that the player character and their partner are both asexual (yes, that kind of “Ace” Baker) doesn’t seem to have much to do with anything at first, but it’s worth mentioning that this game was originally developed for an asexual game jam, so think of it as a game that started off as being about an asexual person and then they added the baking afterwards, rather than the other way around (And even then, who cares? If you’ve got something against asexual people, get outta here.)

My only real critique is that after a while, the music loop stopped, forcing me to sit in silence as I studied my baking grimoire. But again, this was a little game hashed together for a game jam, that, if for some reason you didn’t want to get the bundle, is actually free on itch.io, so can you really complain?

Hot Pot Panic

What a classic conundrum: you’re at a hot pot restaurant with a friend, and, despite being all-you-can-eat, you have to control your appetite to avoid weirding out your friend.  There’s basically two mechanics you need to keep track of: cooking the food in the hot pot, and managing the conversation with your friend.  You click on the raw ingredients to put them in the pot, then wait until the sprites turn a golden hue and you start to hear a sizzling audio cue to eat them.  Meanwhile, you have to make small talk with your friend, and pay just enough attention to be able to choose the correct multiple choice response to any question or open-ended statement she ends her side of the conversation with.  But you have to be careful not to burn your food, however, because that won’t count towards filling your stomach, which you have to do before you run out of conversation topics.  The whole thing is a delicate balancing act.  I have to admit I failed at first because for some reason it didn’t dawn on me that you could cook more than one thing at a time?

The pixel art sprite work works very well; the foods are instantly recognizable and I could really  feel the judging glare coming from behind the friend’s thick glasses.  The background music perfectly matches the atmosphere, and, as already mentioned, other sound design elements like the sizzling cues from perfectly cooked meat prove to be vital to juggling the different elements of gameplay.  All in all, a neat little game that perfectly encompasses the feeling of anxiety that comes with wanting to not embarrass yourself in public when all you really want to do is eat.  

Putahe ng Ina Mo: Sinigang Edition

Ok, I’m gonna try to be nice to this one.  On one hand, I love the aesthetic it’s got going on.  Upon opening the game, you can tell from the background music, which I can only describe as “whimsical mad scientist,” as well as a stream of emojis flying past, that this game is supposed to be very goofy.  Unlike other games on this list which were more point-and-click, the ingredients for your sinigang (a Filipino tamarind stew) can be picked up and thrown about as you wish.  The fact that the art style is very realistic makes this that much funnier.  

However, upon opening, the window forces a specific resolution that just would not work with my monitor.  This may seem like a minor problem, as I was still more-or-less able to access all the ingredients, but imagine the mental state I was in: I’m already confused, and then the second I clamp the lid on the pot, everything goes up in smoke!  How the fuck did I burn water? I ended up also watching a playthrough on YouTube, and they also, no matter what, burned the sinigang.   Considering the name of the game translates roughly to “Your Mother’s Cooking,” maybe the idea is that no matter what, you’re never going to make it as well as mom.  Or, considering my mom’s cooking, maybe it’s the opposite of that.

A weird, goofy little game that just didn’t seem to like my computer.  

Sangwish

This is 100% in the vein of all those weird 2010s “[Mundane Thing] Simulator” games that were all the rage for a while.  No instructions, no objectives, just a pile of food for you to play with.  My immediate reaction was, for some reason, to grill the mysterious meat slices, but it turns out the stove there is just set dressing.  Giving up on such pointless gourmand pretenses, I decided to just make the biggest sandwich I could.  Eventually, there was so much on the sandwich that the bottom slice of bread started vibrating slightly, because physics.  Then I tried to put my knife in the sandwich, but the vibrations knocked it to the floor, never to be seen again.   Then I decided to throw all of my bread and most of the ingredients on the floor, never to be seen again.  Here is my end sandwich.

Easily one of the sandwich simulators I’ve played all day.

Terroir

Much like a wine with a good terroir, this is by far the most complex game on this list (muffled snooty wine snob chuckles in the distance).  The end goal is clear: grow grapes, make wine.  But, as you can imagine, you are completely at the mercy of the elements.  The ideal time to harvest your grapes is when they are at a ripeness of 4-6 out of 10.  However, the randomly-generated months gave me month after month of cloudy and rainy weather, not allowing my grapes to get the sunlight they needed to get their ripeness above a 1.  The only time my grapes ever hit a 6 was out of harvesting season, and by the time I was allowed to harvest, they had somehow dropped back down to a 1.  And as you can imagine, a bunch of 1-star grapes will only make 1-star wine.  The fact that I almost immediately got root rot didn’t help any, either.  And because I tried to expand too quickly, buying an extra plot of land when I couldn’t even afford the grapes to grow there, I was thousands of dollars in the red within 3 years.  

Is that a dig against the game? No. It’s frustrating, but in that way that games with a learning curve often are. The tile-based design is pleasant to look at, although much of the UI can be a little confusing to look at at first.  And, of course, most of the “gameplay” is sitting and waiting for the wine critics to tell you what a bad job you did.  Some of the few management choices you can make seem to not have much of an impact (my first wine wasn’t acidic enough, so I added pressed juice to my second batch that brought the acidity up to a 9, but then the mere act of bottling the wine brought the acidity down to a 4 somehow).  It’s an interesting concept for a game that I assume I’m just not getting, but might give another chance at some point in the future.