#And calls the cheese he buys Mafia cheese

[wistfullywaiting2]

The real reason why Atsushi shops at the same grocery store as Akutagawa is because the grocery store they both shop at is one of the Port Mafia’s money laundering schemes.

It’s not like Atsushi is completely unaware that it was a money laundering scheme, he just didn’t piece together that it was a Port Mafia money laundering scheme. He shops there anyway because Mori doesn’t know the average cost for most household products so everything is ridiculously cheap and also decent quality.

[smoooothoperator]

Beautiful Stranger

02: Need To Know

Driver! Lando Norris x OC (Lily Barton)

Summer love, strangers to friends to lovers, Greece and Greek mythology references

Words: 3.3k

Masterlist

Official playlist

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a/n: hello beautiful people! here we have another chapter of this two silly duo. And we have a Spotify playlist!!! If some of you think that I should add more sings please tell me

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

🖌️

"I had a little accident, Nora… it's okay" I sighed looking at how my foot was on a cushion on the coffee table. "I have to rest around three days and then I can go work"

"No, no, no! You won't come in a few weeks! You have a sprained ankle, you have to rest" she protested. "But how did it happen?"

"Well… I just fell and twisted it, easy" I shrugged my shoulders. "But I'm fine, really… don't worry!"

"Just rest, okay? I'll go there and help you with everything you need" 

"It's not necessary, Nora. I can walk, you don't have to come"

When the day started I never imagined that something like this could happen: having a stranger in my house cooking my dinner for me because he crashed into me and now I can't move my foot.

On the way back to the apartment complex he was tense all the way, driving carefully and looking around, making sure he won't crash on someone again. We stopped on a pharmacy so I could buy my medicines and even crutches so I could move around without any help.

"Logan, really… it's not necessary" I sighed, looking at him moving around my kitchen after I finished the call with Nora.

"At least let me make  your dinner" he said, looking back at me. "Then you won't see me again"

I frowned, raising an eyebrow and sighing. He was nervous, I can tell. It's like when someone wants to clean a crime scene. He wants to make me forgive him for crashing into me.

"You know that will be impossible, we are neighbors and this town is small" I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest and watching him move around. 

He just remained silent, making my curiosity grow even more. He's British for sure, his accent is too obvious. I'm sure he has money, the perfume I smelt when I was behind him on the scooter seemed expensive. He wears a Lacoste shirt and Ray-Ban sunglasses. 

"Why did you come to the town?" I asked him after some minutes of silence studying him. 

"What are you talking about?" he frowned, turning around. 

"It's obvious you have money, right?" I pointed. "Lacoste, and expensive perfume"

He looked at me and I saw his Adam apple move. Is he nervous?. He doesn't want anyone discovering him?

"What, are you a robber or something? From the mafia?" I laughed. 

"W-what? What are you talking about?" he mumbled, making me frown and look at him.

"Why coming to Parga, and not going to…  I don't know" I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "Mykonos or Santorini…"

"Why don't you mind your own business?" he interrupted me, pissed. 

"Wow, relax" I laughed. "I'm just joking! Come on, I'm bored. I can't move and you are just making my dinner!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, looking back at the kitchen. He was making something that looked like a salad, with some lettuce, olives, feta cheese and tomato. 

"I came here because I wanted to be on my own" he said. 

"Oh, I see..." I nodded, understanding him. After all, that's part of the reason why I came and stayed here. "Then let me tell you that Parga is the perfect place"

He looked over his shoulder at me and I heard him sigh. There's something about him that intrigued me, something that makes me want to know about him.

"How is your hand?" he asked me, putting the salad he made in front of me.

"It's okay" I sighed, looking at the mix of vegetables he made. "Stings a lot, I want to scratch it…"

"You shouldn't" he frowned, grabbing a glass of water and putting the pills I have to take next to it. "And try to not move a lot, you heard what the doctor said. Not even going to the beach"

“But…” I protested, receiving a frown from him, making me groan. “Okay”

He looked at me and stood straight, crossing his arms in front of his chest and sighed. RIght now I feel like when my mother used to give me that cold look because I was doing something wrong, with that disappointed gaze. 

“You can leave now” I sighed, grabbing the fork and eating the salad he made. “I can do things on my own. You better go careful after this, I wouldn’t like to crash into someone else if I were you”

He smiled weakly and nodded, grabbing his things and looking back at me before he walked out of the apartment, closing the front door behind him.

What way to finish the day, with a sprained ankle and a neighbor that made my dinner after only knowing his name.

🎮

She has something that makes me want to know about her. Maybe it is the way she lives, her house doesn’t have many personal things, just the necessary.

But what makes me feel curious is the tons of books she owns about Greek mythology or about its history, all the shells she has on jars and the room that is dedicated to paint. She didn’t even cry when we had the crash, just argued with me immediately and tried to do everything by herself, not accepting my help.

After I made her dinner and left her there, I went to my rented apartment. How could she know I am rich only by looking at my shirt and smelling my perfume? She said she was joking, but the way she looked at me made me feel anxious. 

She doesn’t know who I am, right? Then why does she look at me that way?

“God, I don’t think I’ll survive in this place” I sighed, my phone in my ear and Carlos at the other side of the line.

“Why? Do you miss me?” he smirked, laughing after that. “What’s wrong with that place?”

“No… the place is nice” I sighed, looking out through the window. “I just… God, I arrived today and I already nearly killed my neighbor”

“What?!” he laughed loud, making me frown and pull away the phone from my ear. “You muppet! No one can leave you alone!”

“Don’t laugh at me! That’s being mean!” I groaned. “I just… I had to lie about my own name because she acted weird, like if she knew who I am”

“So you gave her a fake name? God, can you be more stupid?” he sighed.

“But… What if she discovers who I am! What if she takes a picture of me and posts it on Instagram?” I frown. “People will know where I am and then they’ll come. I don’t want that, mate. I don't want to explain why I'm alone or why I don't have a girlfriend"

"I know, but…" he sighed. "Lying about your name? That's… that's too much, mate"

"Why? I mean, maybe I won't see her again" I sighed. "What's the matter with that?"

"Nothing" he sighed. "If you are okay with it, them it's fine"

I sigh and nod, ending the call and looking at the beach. Lily, my neighbor, wanted to go there and I ruined it. What a great way to start my vacation.

I opened the fridge and grabbed the first thing I found, going to the couch and looking at the wall while eating it. I really want to finish this day and go to bed, forget about what happened and start again.

But then I heard a strong noise, and a groan. And it came from the other side of the wall.

"Lily?" I frown, talking loud. Maybe she could hear me.

I heard her curse and I just got up, walking out of the apartment and going to her door.

When I helped her get inside her apartment after coming from the pharmacy I saw that she always leaves her door unlocked. She might trust the people from here to leave the door like that.

"Lily?" I called her again, standing on the frame of the front door.

"Bathroom" I heard her mumble.

I sigh and walk towards the bathroom, searching for the door of it. And then I saw her on the floor, naked and wrapped in a towel.

"Oh, eh…" I gasp looking around, trying to not look at her body. "What happened?"

"I tried to take a bath but I just fell" she sighed, tightening the towel around her. 

"Do you need help?" I sighed. I could feel how my cheeks were getting red.

"Logan…" she said, and then I heard her sigh defeated. "Please?"

"Okay… ehm…" I mumble looking at the ceiling. "You are naked under the towel, right?"

"Yeah" she sighed. "I mean, I have the bottom of the bikini. I fell trying to take it off…"

"Okay, good" I nodded, looking around and finding the top of the bikini. "Can you put it on so I can help you?"

I heard her groan a little and move, sitting on the floor. I reached the top, making sure I didn't look at her, and handed it to her, waiting until she told me she was ready.

"Alright" I nodded.

I looked at her, sitting on the floor. She had small tears in the corner of her eyes, some of them dry. I sighed and looked at the bath, it doesn't have water on it yet, so I opened the key and let the water run until it was warm, butting some shower gel to make sure it made bubbles.

"Did you hurt your hand with the fall?" I asked, kneeling in front of her. She nodded and I just sighed. "Let me see"

"It's okay, Logan… really" she sighed. "You can go back to your apartment"

"No" I frown. "Right now you need someone to help you, and I'm just a door away"

Why did I say that? 

"Come on, I'm sure you were busy" she protested. "Really, I'm fine. I can get up and then get in the bathtub on my own"

"God, let me help you, Lily" I sighed, tired of how stubborn she's acting. 

She sighed and groaned, giving up. 

"Yeah, I hurt my hand" she mumbled, showing it to me. The bandage that was wrapped around her arm to protect the wound she made after falling to the road had a little blood on it. "I think I opened the wound after falling…"

"It's okay" I nodded. "You have a first aid kit here, right? While you are on the bath relaxing I can change the bandage"

"But you don't have to stay here while I take the bath!" she protested, but the moment I looked at her she sighed. "Okay…"

I sigh and stop the water of the bathtub and look at her, picking her up and placing her on it, making sure that the foot with the bandage was held up at the edge of the bathtub. At the start she protested when I held her, saying that she could stand for herself, but it was clearly a way of telling me to stop helping her.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, changing the bandage and putting the cream the pharmacist gave her. 

"You are already doing it" she mumbled, groaning softly when I touched the wound.

"Hm, funny" I said sarcastically. "Anyway… why didn't you accept my help?"

She looked at me and sighed. I could feel her eyes scanning me, judging me. Maybe she knows that Logan is not my name. That I'm Lando Norris.

"I don't trust you" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "The only things I know about you is that you are my neighbor in this apartment complex, that you probably are British because of your accent, that your skills driving a scooter are horrendous and that you make good salads"

I looked at her and tried to not laugh. She might be the first person that thinks I cook well, or that at least I make something edible.

"I'm not that bad at driving a scooter" I said laughing softly after I finished wrapping the bandage on her hand. "I'm a good driver"

"A good driver? Let me doubt that" she laughed softly too.

I look at her and smile. Her laugh is cute, at least now the mood is not as tense as before. 

I looked at her while she looked away. Her skin is tanned, the kind of tan you get after going all days to the beach. Before she fell to the floor she put her hair on a hair lip that had the shape of a white flower, and the baby hairs of her nape were too short to be with the rest of her hair so now those strands were wet and stuck to her skin. The bikini she's wearing is blue, a color that goes well with her skin and her blue eyes. 

If someone told me she is a model I would have believed them.

"I'm from Bristol" I said, sitting on the floor, looking at her. "So yeah, I'm British. And I'm terrible at cooking"

"Makes sense" she nodded. "So you are terrible at driving a scooter and at cooking. What else?"

"I can't sing" I chuckle. "But I know how a DJ set up works"

"Interesting" she laughed. "So, what are you? Some kind of DJ that needs to be away and have a solo trip?"

Actually… it could work.

"Yeah, kinda" I chuckle nervously. "I'm new in that world and I want to discover my own style"

"Ah.. that's cool" she nodded, making me raise my eyebrow. "I'm serious! It's cool"

"Tell me about you, then" I said, nodding at her. "Where are you from? Because I can tell that you have a good English accent but you speak fluent Greek"

"I'm… British, too" she smiled weakly. "But I came here because I loved this country"

"I can tell, you have lots of books about Greece" I nodded, even more curious than before after I saw her weak smile.

"I studied ancient history and I always wanted to be here to live it in first person" she sighed, resting her head in the back of the bathtub. 

"And then I thought that you were like some of those girls obsessed with that Mamma Mia movie" I chuckled, trying to ease the mood. "You gave me those Donna vibes when I saw you"

"Who knows? Maybe I'll turn into her in a few years" she laughed softly. "I came here searching for a dream and I'm already living it…"

"That's good" I nodded, curious.

She smiled weakly and sighed, relaxing. I should go back to my apartment, but there's something that makes me want to stay and help her. Maybe it's the fact that I feel guilty, that she's like this because of my fault, because I crashed into her and she got injured.

"Why do you leave the front door unlocked?" I asked her, curious.

"Why not? I trust the people" she said, shrugging her shoulders and looking at me. "I don't have anything to hide or anything they can take from me. People are kind and I'm kind with them. I trust them"

"What if someone comes in the middle of the night to hurt you?" I frown, kinda worried.

"Well… now I don't have to worry anymore, right?" she said with a soft smile on her lips. "I have a neighbor with good hearing sense that would come here to help"

🖌️

The moment I said that I felt immediately stupid. I saw how he looked at me, trying to not laugh. Laugh at me, because of how ridiculous I was.

"I didn't mean to say that" I excused myself quickly, blushing and looking away.

"It's okay" he laughed. "It makes sense, I surprised myself of how quickly I came to help you"

I look at him and blush, laughing to hide the embarrassment. He was putting everything back in the first kit aid, his fingers moving around the things to place them correctly.

His hands are nice, with long fingers and a big palm. There are some bracelets on his wrists, some of them were orange and the other other yellow. 

"Eh… can you help me get out?" I asked, somehow shy. 

I know that the moment I'll get out of the water, things will happen. Like the bikini top wet and stuck to my breasts, all my body wet and then getting his clothes wet. That's why I didn't want his help, because things would turn back uncomfortable.

"Oh, yeah" he nodded, getting up.

Great, why are you so freaking kind? 

I took a deep breath and looked at him standing on the side of the bathtub. He was looking at me, waiting for me to move, but when I stayed still, he frowned.

"Well? You don't want to get out?" he frowned, confused.

"It will be awkward" I sighed. 

"It doesn't have to be" he said, and it just made me close my eyes, sighing heavier.

"Logan… my nipples are hard" I said, just to make him understand. "And my whole body is wet, if you help me get up I will make your clothes wet"

"O-oh…" he nodded, now understanding. "Okay… then I'll help you on another way"

I sighed, groaning. He really wants to help, no matter what? How can someone be so stubborn?

"Okay, try not to slip" he said.

I turned my head and saw him standing behind me, holding a towel with his hands. I sighed, really defeated, and rolly eyes.

"You win" I said. "Just… don't let me fall"

I heard him chuckle and then his hands were holding my arms, helping me get up without hurting me. He wrapped the towel around me and I just held it tighter once I was standing in the bathtub.

"Ready?" he asked, wrapping his arm on my back and getting ready to pick me up.

I nodded and then he picked me up, making me hold his shoulders and sigh. He sat me on the toilet and I just looked down, embarrassed.

"I promise this is the last time I take a bath with this thing on my foot" I groan.

"Just… don't hurt yourself again, Lily" he sighed. "You gave me a heart attack when I heard you fall"

I looked up at him and blushed. Okay, no, this can't be a crush. No, no. Get that idea out of your head, Lily.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you" I sighed. "It won't happen again"

"Don't worry" he chuckled. "Do you need help to go to bed?"

"I actually didn't want to go to bed" I said, holding the towel tighter and making sure it didn't fall. "But you can leave, really. I can do things on my own"

"You sure?" he frowned.

"Yeah, Logan. Don't worry" I said. "Good night"

He nodded and walked out, leaving me alone in the bathroom. 

This day can't get worse. There's no way it can't get worse.

I sighed, taking off the bikini and putting on clean clothes to finally feel comfortable. The crutches are my big enemy, but if I want to move around I have to wear them, even if I hate it.

I walked, as best as I could, and went to my art room. I needed to do something to take all my emotions of the day out of my mind. I need to take my frustrations out and forget about everything that happened today.

"Well…" I sighed, grabbing my notebook and some pencils after sitting on the chair.

I let the pencil work alone, connected with my brain. I wasn't paying attention, but when I saw what I was drawing I just gasped.

"No way…" I mumble.

The eyes.

His eyes.

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow @celestialpierre @ophcelia @msliz @lorarri @ironmaiden1313 @imsorare @mycenterfold

[from-memphis-with-love]

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 2

Summary: Memphis Mafia antics cause trouble on set and put Elvis' relationship with the film's director on thin ice. Amidst this chaos, he finds himself increasingly drawn to his co-star, Francesca, who challenges him to consider a more serious path in life. Their growing connection, marked by moments of vulnerability and the thrill of new affection, leads to a pivotal evening that could change Elvis's life forever. Will he embrace the possibility of true love, or will his old habits die hard?

You can go back and read chapter one here. Word count: 9,800 Warnings: Outdated gender dynamics; crude humor; sexual content; alcohol use.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“Hey, E.P. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

“Hands off yer snakey!”

Elvis knew those annoying hyucks and haws anywhere, especially beating down his door at the crack of dawn. He yanked on a black silk robe and tied it at the front. 

“We know you’re in there, E! Come to the door!”

He could hear the alcohol and pills still imbibing their speech and doubted they’d even went to bed last night. Opening the door to his home proved that no, they in fact had not gone to bed last night. At least not their own.

Joe Esposito wore a frumpled paisley polo shirt that was half tucked into his black slacks. One shoe was missing and there was old vomit on the one poor mahogany loafer present. Jerry Schilling had sweat through his beige three-piece suit and struggled to keep upright on the pebble driveway leading to the patio.

Marty Lacker and Billy Smith were leaning against one another, using each other’s gravity to stand up. The saddest mountain in the valley. Red West, sober and only a pinch aggravated, a vein bulging from his sweating forehead, opened his arms up for a mighty hug and a few wallops on Elvis’ back. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before asking, “So why haven’t you answered any of our calls? You know I had to call fucking Parker to clue us in on where you went off to.”

“It hadn’t been that long,” Elvis insisted, glancing at his neglected answering machine.

“Longer!” Joe wailed, leaning all over Elvis and rubbing his pink forehead into Elvis’s silky sleeve. “Oooh, it feels so cool against my face. Say, where’s the bathroom around here again?” He gestured towards the pool right out back and Elvis guided his hand to straight down the hall. 

“First room on the left.” Or was it right? He didn’t use the downstairs as much in this house. Those double glass doors leading to the pool veranda freaked him out at nighttime. He made a mental note to buy some curtains. Getting everyone some water and ginger ale to nurse on, Elvis kicked back in his recliner, still in his loungewear with almost a full house. He hadn’t been so casual since childhood, without even his slippers on, for God’s sake. But everyone drank deeply and munched on the little cheeses and crackers he’d set out just in case they needed to soak up some of the liquor sitting on their bellies. He could get wild around this group of men. 

His reputation was something that he never really tended liberally. It was effortless to display whatever it was that made his fans flock to him. In all regards, he was just himself and it seemed to work to get him this far. His fridge was full, his bank fuller, houses in every state (that he liked to visit), top shelf dames for the picking. Why, just the other night he’d (almost) taken Francesca on a date. She insisted otherwise, but his cheek still sizzled with that little peck, he could smell her perfume when he shut his eyes. Hot spiced wine and caramel. He couldn’t get enough. 

The image he needed to maintain for this production was demanding and he realized that some of the worry he carried, in making this work, in making a mark, in doing more than just producing a film—in crafting a classic; was not for himself alone. The heaviness was shared for her. Frannie. She’d been in films before, he’d even watched a few of them. Some strange indie films, an avant garde piece with a French director, with her voice distastefully voiced over. She had a few commercials, television and radio. 

Francesca might not be selling out stadiums, but she certainly had a devoted following of fans. Some of them were mixed in with his, albeit intermittently and much quieter than his raucous crowd. Young ladies with long straight hair and plaid skirts, glasses and berets, tracksuits and pinstripes. Artsy types. Sophisticated types. And of course, young men by the droves. 

She always waited patiently for them, one by one, talking with them. Graciously asking them how their families were. Sometimes she remembered specific fans’ names, told them about their gifts seated on her mantle or dangling from her rearview mirror. She always had time for them, always radiating humbleness. She was grateful for every interaction, every autograph, every bouquet and box of chocolates. Frannie was working class at heart, just like Elvis. They both had a gift that lifted them from poverty, and both of them never forgot their roots, feeling more comfortable around the “little people” rather than their contemporaries. 

So it meant something to him. To inadvertently have a stronghold on the helm of her career. He’d blame himself for the rest of his life if he did something to steer her into a media storm. He watched her perform when she thought no one else was looking. He learned that when she was rehearsing, she had a whimsy about her. A playfulness in everything that she did. But she was also precise, always hitting her mark, yet subduing herself. She was saving her true magic for the camera film. Like an endurance sprinter, pacing herself. When she was alone, or under the impression she was, Frannie flourished. Like the night he first saw her on the television, an angel on stage. She commanded hearts with ease, turning heads, widening eyes, craning necks. He could watch her for hours. 

“So, who’s the girl? You know we know there’s a girl,” Joe asked, pouring himself a drink while plopping down in the only dent Elvis had managed to carve in the slippery white leather wraparound couch.

“There’s always a girl!” Marty hiccupped, his eyes shut as he sunk down in the crook of the couch’s arm, his cheek mushed against the wooden panel. They weren’t wrong. Elvis was by all accounts a ladies’ man. Women were the gentler sex and he’d always adored them, lovely and flirty as they came. He liked what he liked.

The Memphis Mafia had always been his traveling pack, but just for this film that he wanted to distance himself if only a little bit. Just to take things, well, seriously. He knew the boys were his weakness. They could get him partying all night long, blowing his money at casinos, bars, races. He loved the fellas, but this was only temporary.

But looking at ‘em all, so sad and slumped on his couch, strewn about his living room, stumbling back from the bathroom, he wanted to hang loose, too. Relax. Unwind with the boys a little. They were all dying to see what it was like on set. But more importantly, they were dying to meet Francesca.

“I saw her on a billboard on the way here! That dark haired doll with those come hither eyes,” Red whistled, rubbing his hands in that scamp way. “Oooh wee. Nothing gets me going more.”

“She’s a lady on set, but I guarantee she’s a wild cat in the sack, isn’t she, Presley?” Joe snickered, nodding his way.

Elvis felt a momentary pang in his heart. Then, he felt a childish itch to fib, but he relayed the truth, “Frannie and I are just friends for now. But trust me, it ain’t for the lack of trying.”

The fellas nodded solemnly, sharing glances with one another. “Typical games. They want you to try, try, try until you almost can’t see the finish line anymore.” Billy chided.

“Nothing quite like the fire of a hard-to-getter,” Red chuckled dryly. “She’ll make you work for it. But I can tell you just from looking at her, it’ll be worth it.”

Elvis wanted to pivot the conversation away from Frannie. It felt off to talk about her like a conquest. While he wanted her willing and wanting, batting those lashes at him, swooning for him, it just wouldn’t be quite right. She just didn’t seem like the type to fawn and frill. She never had a moment of, “Wow! You’re really Elvis Presley!” She’d taken him as a man, as her equal. A coworker, a co-star. A foothold on the wall-climb of success.

Once his boys had a power nap, a greasy fast food breakfast, and a long ride to the studio with the top down, they were right as rain, springing out of the Cadillac one after another.

“Good morning, Mr. Presley,” a young crew member winked. It was the girl from a few days ago that’d tried getting his attention. Looking at her now, she was quite the pretty freckled thing. Wispy bleach blonde hair pulled back in a high, twisty ponytail. Her hair was thinner than Francesca’s. So blonde it was almost pink. She had on a lot of make-up, maybe. He was apparently not the best at pegging if a girl had any on or not, if she was subtle enough with it. But she had black clumps in her eyelashes. Pretty, still.

The fellas tipped their suggestive glances towards him, wiggling brows, laughing and slapping him on the shoulders. Out on the hot concrete, the huge garage style bay door was open. Apparently, the air conditioning had gone out over the weekend and everyone was going to have to just power through it. The breeze was nice and there were more crew members lingering outside, smoking and shooting the shit.

Cassandra had gotten her hair cut, the graying wisps framing her face as she glared at him from across the way. She watched them cautiously, critically. He knew instantly that he would be under scrutiny with his boys around, but what’d started as a seed of worry had died and in its place agitation bloomed. He never liked the idea of being anything but his authentic self. His boys were nothing but a little harmless fun, and they weren’t causing a disturbance. Yet…

On set, Elvis noticed someone he hadn’t before, not only because of the new face, but also because he was escorting a brilliant mare, blonde and spotted, who shook her head and whinnied softly. He kept to himself, in a torrid conversation with the director, luring her attention back to his face.

Francesca’s scenes weren’t being rehearsed until the afternoon, but she was always in attendance early. She was inside, dark hair tousled by the breeze, chatting with the make-up crew and Eddie, who was already back on set, albeit with a neck brace and bandages squeezing his fractured hand. He gave a thumbs up before wincing, making the guys laugh.

“Looks like you at that age,” Red jibbed, as Eddie was almost a head shorter than him, gangly and pale. The poor kid was made to be behind the camera. Which was too bad, considering he had a lot of charisma. He told Frannie and Elvis jokes between gracious thank yous when they drove him back to his place. Kid still lived with his parents. In a basement no less. Eddie’s well-loved station wagon was outside and Elvis pointed at it, half-heartedly saying, “If I had to have a family car, that’d be the one.”

“That’s the car that would make you a father?” Francesca had laughed, that flighty, birdsong sound that haunted his dreams. Literally. He dreamt of her, feverishly, night after night since their not-date at the carnival. At first, they were silly dreams, wherein he was pantless and asking for directions in his second grade classroom and Francesca was the teacher answering snidely, “Yes, you may use the restroom, Elvis.”

Saturday he’d seen her in his childhood home. She was a little girl with braided pigtails and a sunhat too big for her tiny head, letting diamonds of sunlight in. They played together until it was time for him to wake up. One of those dreams he couldn’t remember the devices of, just the impression, the feeling he’d been left with when blinking his eyes open.

But there was one dream, his fervid dream just last night, where Frannie let him in, let him take her on a real date, wining, dining, charming her. Making her fall in love with him. Dark arms reached from the backs of their dining chairs and before he could shout, he was plunged into pitch black. Flashes of sunlight and song, mirth. He awoke with her in his bed, her beautiful back facing him, the linens bunched at the dip of her elegant waist. He would dream of lifting that sheet, but instead he drew her into his arms, inhaled her lush scent, felt her soft tresses against his face. His eyes had shot open and without even looking down, he could feel the space between the blankets and his belly where his morning wood tented the sheets.

A cold shower had been imperative. And then his crew had arrived, worried that he was in a slump (or more likely needing a place nearby to crash while they slept off their inebriants). But those feelings returned in full force the nearer he drew towards her. 

Sensing his approach, Frannie turned to him with a face so lovely it made his heart ache. He inhaled sharply, never as off kilter with his words than with her. She just did something to the part of his brain that told his mouth to say things.

“You look stunning, Frannie,” Elvis rubbed her arm and although she didn’t pull away, she wasn’t at all receptive to the touch, or returning the familiarity in any way.

It wasn’t until she leaned in with a worried look in her eye that she said, “There’s a reporter on set. I want everyone on their best behavior.” She hadn’t emphasized “everyone,” but she might as well have. He wanted to kick rocks or maybe go find a hole. Suddenly, thoughts that never plagued him before came rushing in, a worry that he could be the architect of his own undoing. He felt as if he was being eyed, damn near looked down upon. Like she waited for him to step out of line and make a mistake, sending her inevitably and gracefully swooping in to save his bumbling ass. 

Over by the craft table, Joe gestured towards Frannie and whispered, “That’s her, that’s her right there, shining like the sun. Talking to Elvis.” The boys made a beeline towards her and introduced themselves one by one, everyone remarkably tame.

She was still on the balls of her feet, her heels lifted, her composure fracturing when she watched the collective headturn of all the Memphis Mafia, eyeing bleach blonde and buxom Debbie who rapidly approached. She was a background dancer, the waitress that one of the male side characters was supposed to fall for. The girl who had winked at him just earlier. It took him a minute before he recognized her.

Debbie cut a line towards them, ignoring Francesca’s presence obliviously, so close to Elvis that she reached out with frosted pink nails and fixed his starchy white collar. “There ya go. I know how you like lookin’ your best, Mr. Presley.” She was chewing gum, strands of her hair getting occasionally snared on her glossed lips. “You wanna go see a movie after this? I’m free.”

He blinked in surprise at her boldness, but swerved the invitation tactfully, even with the boys egging him on.

“She says she’s free, Elvis,” Billy snickered.

Elvis grinned. “I’m so tired of movies, maybe something like lunch another time.” He didn’t intend anything but cordialness, but he instantly saw a shift in Francesca’s features. Her brows pinched momentarily, her lips thinned. She took a minute step back, acknowledging the situation.

Debbie was over the moon, clapping her hands together girlishly with a squeal behind her teeth. She had a gummy smile. He knew he’d done something that he’d regret, even if he didn't necessarily feel guilty.

Francesca walked away without a word, her perfume following her. He didn’t know whether to try and talk or just let her go. But watching her walk away, his decision not to trail left him hollow for the remainder of the day. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her face in that moment.

*

“So, like I was saying. My favorite place ever to shop closed down last week and I’ve been so upset about it. Where else am I gonna find another consignment boutique around here? Gah!”

Elvis nodded. “You should try secondhand, there’s a lot of good—”

She cut him off with laughter. “No way! You shop at thrift stores, too?!” Her voice was up there, volume wise.

“Oh, sure! I grew up shopping secondhand. This old spot back home, Tupelo Treasure Trove—”

“Shut up! You’re from Tupelo? My mom is from Saltillo!” She slapped his chest, her hand lingering for just a little too long. “That’s crazy! I bet we crossed paths before at a grocery store or a park, or like, on the street maybe. How funny would that be?”

Red and the others snickered behind him, rescuing him from menial conversation with a well-meaning loud girl, a natural reflex they’d honed to perfection over the years.

“He’s gotta get to make-up, ma’am,” Jerry politely interjected, hauling Elvis back.

“Yeah, he looks like hell, look at that,” Marty ribbed, mussing up Elvis’s hair, leading him towards crew. He craned his neck to look for Frannie and although he spotted her, she never glanced up at him.

While he was getting his hair sprayed and his pores powdered in, he saw Colonel Parker off to the side. He appeared as surly as ever, arms crossed and face puckered as he watched all the young people on set scurry around, getting everything perfect.

He approached Elvis. “Still just doing rehearsals? Thought you’d be filming by now at least,” he said gruffly, lighting a cigarette inside, something that Cassandra had strictly forbidden, proclaiming that the smell made her gag. 

“The director just wants to make sure that everything is perfect before we start filming.”

“That’s what retakes are for.”

It was always an argument with Parker about something, anything. He would find the little details to gripe about. Even while getting the lion’s cut of the share, he was still a begrudging miser. He coughed wetly, pointing at Elvis. “This hotel fee is going to fucking kill me.”

Elvis didn’t take the bait. He just went positively along, refusing to argue. “Prices are crazy. If you want, I can cover the cost of the hotel, too.”

“Oh, would you be so kind?” Parker stamped his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, flicking it into a trash can. “Look, there’s press on set.”

“Trust me, I know.” Although, he hadn’t seen anyone yet with a camera or a recorder. They must be trying to gather information without being noticed first.

“Just don’t lean in to any of those disparaging questions they’ll ask you about your other films and you’ll do fine like you always do. You're proud of your work and you’re excited to give a female director a chance.” He couldn’t finish that without chuckling at the end. 

Elvis nodded along, knowing that if he misspoke about his previous work, he’d just be burning bridges in every direction. It was true, he was proud of his work even if it wasn’t his best. He’d put heart into all his roles, even if he’d been playing hard most of those blurry nights. 

“You’re up, hun,” the director’s rotund, sweet-faced assistant pitched her head towards the main set, the floor of the casino. He had another solo to play, but the music wasn’t the focus so much as the conversation his character was supposed to be overhearing between the crooked casino owner and a dirty cop.

The boys were chatting up some pretty girls at the craft table, lining their pockets with ding dongs while they were at it. They waved to him, all thumbs ups, wolf whistles, and cheers for their main man. 

Elvis took his spot at the piano bench, looking for Frannie again, settling his sinking heart before he focused on the ivories. The first tones were somber and the words he whispered were pitifully sad. He’d wanted Frannie to hear them. He selfishly wanted to see if she would be impressed with his playing or follow the lyrics with him. To see if she would still be avoiding him or not. 

But she didn’t show, and his lines were rehearsed and his scenes acted and danced out without a hitch in his step and declined to answer a lot of questions from the weaselly reporter that approached him, sticking to jovial, safe, canned responses about everyone doing their best.

*

Francesca avoided him. Jackass. Him and his little friends. They were acting like a bunch of pigs. She didn’t want to get muddy. She wasn’t some groupie.

Taking a break outside and enjoying the shade, the fresh air and flowing breeze made for a cooler air than the stuffiness on set. She could hear shouting from inside and after listening intently, she could tell that it was Cassandra, pitching an absolute fit. Stepping closer to the door, she propped it open to get a peek. Earlier in the day, Cassandra had grown instantly agitated by the presence of Elvis’s so-called “Memphis Mafia.” The obnoxious group of men had no right to be there. Their carefree demeanors sullied the professionalism on set, and both she and Frannie knew that they would serve as a very unhealthy distraction to their second leading star.

And they encouraged Elvis to flirt with all the girls on set. Ugh.

Cassandra had been fuming, practically pulling at her hair all day. She wasn’t saying a word, not yet, while she watched the boys cutting up daily, shmoozing with the pretty young crew members as the press sniffed for blood in the water. It was just embarrassing. Him. His antics. His effect on the film.

But now, the good director was spearing her anger directly towards the group of men, yelling at them to, “Cut the shit! How else would liquor end up in the punch?”

“Look, lady, we understand why you’re so pissed off. But we had nothing to do with this. Less than nothing. I don’t even know nothing. That punch tasted like regular ol’ punch to me earlier, but let me try some now.” The one she was sure was named Joe was clapping back at her, but it only pissed her off more when he sampled a bit from the pouring ladle.

“Get out! All of you, off the set. Anyone who is not getting paid by me, leave my set.” Her voice lowered an octave and she shut her eyes, calming her nerves and letting the men gather their wits.

Elvis was shocked, his face one of disbelief, but all the guys just laughed.

Francesca watched him lean into Debbie, close enough to smell her cheap perfume, to see the glitter she sprinkled in her hair to try and catch some of the low light and make him notice her. They exited out the door and Frannie, well, she was content to practice her lines. She wouldn’t let him dirty her on-set decorum. Maintaining good composure, she just barely tilted her head to acknowledge him, her expression blank. He was turning out like every bad rumor she’d heard about him.

Hell, when Francesca told her sister Connie about landing the star role alongside Elvis, she’d gasped and warned her to cage herself around a man like that. They just liked playing around and dipping out when things got inconvenient for them. Say something wrong, do something obnoxious, not laugh at one of their jokes and that was all they needed to deflate the joyride and steer things off course. 

But Frannie hadn’t set a course. She was just having fun and quite content to stop things at anytime. If they’d even started, that is. After all, she had told him that wasn’t a date. But they were supposed to go to dinner this weekend. Somewhere out of town, he wouldn’t tell her where. 

She was done thinking about this, letting him live in her head. She cleared some well-needed space and when he was hot on her tail after his rehearsal, when he’d magically garnered a moment away from his rowdy pack of dogs, he was laughing, shouting back at them, “One sec, just one sec!”

“Don’t bother,” she thought but didn’t say. Decorum, Frannie. Work professionalism was key in climbing the rickety ladder of fame. One wrong step was all it took. An explosion on set, a scorned would-be lover, jilted and hysterical, unable to continue filming, production on hold until a replacement could be found and—she swallowed, clutching her throat, turning to face him with a placid smile.

“Elvis. Don’t you want to get back to your friends?” Her tone was level, but he wasn’t stupid. 

“Well, hey. Hey, how are you feeling? You seemed a little distant on set today.”

“Distant? Distant, oh, I’m sorry, I’m not going for that with Josephine’s character.”

He waved that away. “No, no. I mean you. What’s wrong, did I do something? Say something?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and pull her closer. He already was with his eyes, raking them over her.

Usually she would never buck up, never cause a stir. She gracefully knew to take the pacifist route in this world very much dominated by men. But seeing him with Debbie genuinely rattled her. It was a strange, foreign feeling. 

“Look, I’m not a girl who can just sit pretty on a shelf and wait for you to come and fancy playing with me again. Do you… understand what I’m saying?” She struggled to keep her tone calm. He had truly unnerved her. She’d liked him, dammit. Still really did. But she kept it to a whisper, knowing that a nosey reporter could be anywhere on set, lurking in the shadows to get the next scoop, maybe overhearing a conversation on set that he shouldn’t have.

Francesca was horrified at the thought of any bad press getting out about the movie before its theatrical release. She didn’t want to do anything to put this project in danger. It meant so much to her, definitely more than one night at the fair. But she’d gotten kinda dizzy on the swings after a whole funnel cake, and he’d wiped powdered sugar off the corner of her lips, absently licking it from his finger. Her heart had skipped a beat. Now, it’d just sunk into the pit of her stomach. Like a portent, black storm cloud on the horizon, a man approached her with a greasy smile to match his sickly green checkered shirt and ocher colored shorts. He had a badge around his neck, a thick pair of prescription glasses resting on his bulbous nose and a pair of extra shades propped on his balding white head. He didn’t have a camera crew in tow, but he did have a recorder in hand, and he was already fumbling with it before he made his way to her.

Francesca steeled herself, trying to read him as a hard hitter or a blow-over. Some papers wanted a fluff piece about the latest film to placate the average reader. But others wanted to dredge up the worst of the worst, all the drama, all the angst, all the little petty arguments taking place behind the scenes that didn’t matter even an ounce in the grand picture of filmmaking. She saw them as pests, wondering if there was a fly buzzing in front of her face.

“Francesca Ferrara,” he slanted, his recorder hissing in the background, rustling his voice like wind through leaves. “What’s it like working alongside Elvis Presley for your biggest film yet?”

Maybe he was oblivious to how duplicitous it was to pose a question about her much more famous co-star, especially as the very first thing out of his mouth. She just barely masked the twitch of her lips, keeping her smile on.

“It’s amazing! I cannot believe that I actually get to work with Mr. Presley. You would not believe how professional he is. I couldn’t ask for a better co-star.”

He looked satisfied with that answer, asking another. “And this is your first Hollywood debut, right? What would you say to any potential moviegoers who don’t know which ticket to splurge their hard earned dollar?”

“I’d have to say this one. I’m so thankful for the opportunity to star in a movie directed by Cassandra Morgan. She is amazing. So, to not give too much away, just know that there’s going to be a lot of runaway laughs, heart stopping romance and a rocking soundtrack that’s going to shake the house.”

“Excellent, sweetheart. Excellent. And you just look fantastic. Fantastic, darling. What’s your diet? All the ladies are crazy about that cabbage right now. But you’ve always said you have a hearty appetite. How do you do it?”

Frannie was taken aback, but not surprised that his line of questioning devolved into simple dribble. What do you like to eat, Francesca? Do you go for a morning run like Miss Natalie Wood? Are you seeing anybody, Miss Ferrara? Do you have a man in your life?

She cleared her head, smiling though the bullshit. “That’s my little secret. But you can bet that I was taught never to be late for dinner, and I don’t count on skipping any meals. I’m Italian, after all! You’ll have to tell me about that cabbage, though.” She laughed daintily, even though she hadn’t really said anything all that humorous. She just wanted this to be over, clean and short. But he just kept prodding.

“So, I’ll ask the obvious. You and Elvis are playing a couple and have quite a few romantic scenes. Does any of that chemistry translate off camera?” The silence was filled with that anticipatory hiss. The recorder hungry for a story. One she was hesitant to give in full.

She couldn’t deflect his insinuation too hastily, for it would look like she was trying to hide something. Instead, she rolled her shoulders and held her chin up when she said slyly, “Isn’t that every girl’s dream?”

Thankfully, the questions shifted to lighter things about co-stars and estimated release dates, which she couldn’t really comment on other than a hopeful guess for next fall. When he concluded their interview and went on his way, she felt eyes on her. Turning to glance over her shoulder, in the shadows of the casino set, Elvis’s creepy agent, Colonel Parker was watching. The same dickhead who tried to lowball her agent and get her to take a smaller cut and put her name second. Absolutely not. She did not like the man, and by the looks of it, he didn’t like her either. She could live with that just fine.

*

Elvis watched from the sideline, a cool towel around his neck. He apologized profusely to the boys and also on the boys’ behalf. He just couldn’t believe that any of them would do something like that. Hell, when he interrogated them about it outside, they all had clean pockets. No one had a flask. So whatever alcohol had been used, the bottle had been disposed of. He wanted to check the trash cans to see if he could find any evidence, but what use would that do? They were already banned from set, and now Elvis was on what some might consider thin ice. Luckily, Cassandra Morgan was forgiving, seeing the obvious confusion and worry on Elvis’s face when he tried to make sense of what happened.

Apparently, some of the crew members were enjoying an early lunch. The punch left out had tasted a little dry and the smell was off. Elvis wondered if maybe some fruit juice had simply fermented. None of the boys would do something like this. Sure, they were jokesters, but they would never involve unwitting victims in their pranks. Absently, he had to worry if someone was trying to sabotage him.

With the air conditioning out and summer setting in, it was already starting to get hot with so many people. Debbie was saying something but when Elvis leaned in to hear what she was saying from all the way down there, he spotted the new horse trainer talking to Frannie. She was laughing, letting him release her hand after giving it a kiss, her eyes glittering. She looked refreshed, happy. Saying, “Antonio, you’re too much.”

Antonio was helping her up on the golden mare, letting her get used to the feel of such a powerful animal under her reins. She looked pretty and comfortable, like she’d done this before. When she responded to something the dashing Spaniard said to her, her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, mesmerizing him, Antonio, and certainly any other man with eyes in attendance. Her outfit was smart, tight fitting in a black pants and silver heels, the stark color of her slacks making the hand helping her quite glaring. Even though Elvis couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, he could tell that Antonio was fishing. 

His fists balled and released at his sides, but he kept it cool, watching as Antonio exited stage left and Frannie took her place just off camera. In this scene—a heavily stylized dream sequence—she was supposed to blaze down the steps of the casino and steal a loose carriage horse to make a quick getaway from armed men who are tailing her, guns blazing! A few sound guys were stand-ins for the henchmen and posted up with the fingers as pretend guns. One knelt for a quick long range shot and the other was in pursuit as soon as Cassandra called action.

Francesca pumped her arms, her heels clicking as she ran, picking up speed before attempting to make the jump up to the saddle. She made a good first attempt, skipping to a momentous slide and up—up! Well, not exactly all the way up. She could almost get her leg over the saddle, but would fall just a little short and of course, her valiant hero came to lend a hand.

Antonio smiled, clearly loving the image he’d built for himself as the charming, helpful casanova. His hands once again grabbed her lithe thighs when she ran towards him, like she might tumble into his arms. And up she went, given that extra boost needed to soar up and land gracefully on the saddle. The horse, Goldie, adjusted with a mild-mannered flick of her blonde tail as she boredly chuffed.

“There you go, you had it in you the whole time. Just don’t be scared. She will catch you, just trust her and trust yourself.” Antonio served, but she was only somewhat interested as she nodded at him, grinning in acknowledgement and towards Cassandra to continue on with another take.

This time everyone was in a quiet standstill as Frannie focused ahead on the sprint path and took off. Without falter, she draped her right leg over the saddle like lace, fitting her feet into the stirrups and grasping the reigns. Goldie’s mane fluttered and she looked tired of the action, ready to gallop free. But she was a good girl, enjoying pets from Frannie to her big broad neck and ears. Gentle creature, tamed by a beautiful woman. 

Elvis watched on with a foreign pang in his heart, but there was pride in seeing how accomplished Frannie looked, mounted high like a queen on her throne.

“Good job, my girl! I knew you could do it. Just takes a little practice, like everything else.” Cassandra’s southern accent grew thicker when she was tired, and her words were practically a drawl in this heat at high noon. “Let’s pick this back up tomorrow, folks! Give poor Goldie a break—and a round of applause! For Goldie and her handsome handler.”

The ladies in attendance all looked at Antonio with saucy, behind-the-hand laughter and then turned to giggle amongst themselves. Except Debbie, who was still very much enthralled with Elvis’ presence, her hands clasped low and her breasts pushed high up, betting for his attention.

Frannie waved goodbye from up on Goldie, ironically doling out kisses just like royalty. Always in good humor and ready to make someone smile.

He went to approach her, to stride up the steps to see her. Debbie’s arm looped into his so fast it gave him whiplash.

“Whoa, whoa!” He kindly brushed her away, “Almost lost my footing there, thanks for the hand. I’m gonna go talk to our lovely friend there,” he trailed, hopping up the set steps with his hands in his pockets. 

Frannie could sense him approaching even while she conversed with Antonio, saying something about, “The Costa del Sol sure must be lovely this time of year.” She laughed elegantly, the kind of laugh that you stopped your own laughter to listen to. But here she was, putting on a polite show. Elvis could tell instantly that Frannie didn’t like Antonio, she was just being cordial. But the same couldn’t be said for the Spaniard, who was leaning against Goldie with his tan, brawny arms crossed, letting his eyes greedily wander all along Frannie’s figure. He was whispering, his brown eyes darting up to see Elvis rapidly approaching.

Frannie turned on her heels, never displaced, never caught off-guard. She touched her well-manicured, red lacquered pointer finger at his chest, muttering tightly, “We were just having a conversation about classic bikes. You have an old sportster, don’t you?”

He could tell even with the craft of her words, that the deliverance was key and that he wasn’t being welcomed in. Antonio looked smug, smirking at Elvis from over Frannie’s shoulder.

Elvis didn’t avoid eye contact with the younger man. “A Sportster. A Bonneville. Superhawk. Got an Electra Glide on the way with some customizations, before they’re being sold to the public next year.” He didn’t like being steered on when and where to talk, especially if some chump was going to try coming in on his girl.

Frannie leveled him with a split-second, whip crack glare. Like she couldn’t believe he was actually trying to flaunt his wealth. Or was he just puffing up like a peacock in some misguided attempt to win some perceived fight with Antonio? Either way, it shouldn’t have stung Elvis as much as it did. He was often regretting the things he said moments after he said them.

Antonio glanced between them, sliding his hand out with owl eyes. “Hello, sir. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Antonio.”

“Antonio here is only supposed to be on set for a few weeks, so we have to make the most of our time with him while we can.” The insinuation in her voice wasn’t lost on him but Elvis didn’t want to believe it. Whatever chemistry they had couldn’t have soured so quickly. He then realized why Frannie had been acting terse with him since this morning. 

Was he being an ass right now? He stopped just short of rubbing his hand tiredly down his face. She was jealous and flaunting herself to tease him. Him and all the other men on set who would chomp at the bit for her affection, pouring their intentions into every word, every lift onto a pony. She was stunning, even when she was ticked off. 

*

Elvis suddenly felt alone. His boys were probably at home, having a good time playing his records and eating his food, while he was here pacing the dark hallway to the dressing rooms. He’d spent only a short amount of time thus far in there, seeing as he was already dressed to the nines when arriving on set for rehearsals daily. Filming would commence next week and he was more than ready.

He let his brain toss his thought-slurry up one more time and somehow, amidst the fight for logic and courage, courage won out and he marched towards Frannie’s door. Knock, knock, knocking before he’d actually come up with anything to say to her.

“One second!” He heard a loud bash like she hit her vanity. She coughed a little painful grunt and stumbled to the door. “Jesus. I’m coming.”

When she answered the door, her heels were off, and she had her right foot clenched in her hand.

“I stubbed my toe for this?” She rolled her eyes, not hiding her irritation with him now. He wasn’t used to members of the fairer sex disregarding him like this. If any other woman had done that, it would have made his blood boil. But with Frannie, it only made him want her more.

“Frannie, talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on? What did I do?” He wanted to make it right. Alleviate some of her pain. He didn’t like seeing her so upset—especially at him.

But she just glared back. “I already told you that I do not want to speak to you.”

“Well, you didn’t say that.”

“I guess it was implied. I would appreciate it if you got out of my dressing room, please.”

“I just want to talk to you, Frannie. Don’t be like this. Can we at least go out for a walk? Some fresh air, maybe? It’ll do you good, you’ll love it.”

“I’ll hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Get out,” she cut, shutting the door, but he caught it with his fingers. 

He shouted out in pain and she instantly pulled back, worriedly looking over him, but he used that as an opportunity to slip inside and shut the door behind him.

“Not until you talk to me.”

“I told you to get out! Do not—” Francesca collected herself before she misspoke, her heart leaping into her throat. He was so close. “Do not cause a scene.”

“Look, we’re behind closed doors. I’m not gonna raise my voice or nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you, Frannie. We’re safe from the press. Just… talk to me. If you’re mad, let me know what I can do to make it up to you.”

Frannie was fuming. “Make it up to me? Making it up to me would encompass you apologizing me to start with and I don’t know, changing your entire personality perhaps? Because it seems you are incapable of going five minutes without ogling the next set of perky breasts.”

She knew she caught him completely off guard with her rashness, but she wanted him to feel struck, just like she had. Because for a moment, she entertained the idea, the fantasy that the rake Elvis Presley could be reined in, tamed by one woman. She couldn’t believe herself for believing in him for even a second.

“What are you talking about, Frannie? Oh come on, are you really upset about Debbie?” His tone was incredulous, like he couldn’t fathom fault in drooling over multiple women. 

“You cannot be that dense, Elvis.” She scoffed, turning away from him to pour herself a drink. Just some water, to settle her roiling stomach. He was actually having a physical effect on her. More than one.

“I was just joking around with her. You heard me turn her down? Didn’t you?” Then he grinned. “Besides, you and I, did we ever go on a date, really? I didn’t think you even really liked me all that much, Frannie.”

Oh, he was so full of shit!

“I heard you tell her you’d go to lunch sometime.”

“I was just letting her down easy! Lunch isn’t very sexy, is it?”

“Then how would you like it if Antonio asked me to lunch. Huh? What if he asked me to go with him to Spain later this summer? And we ride horses on the glittering sands together?”

That made him falter. “Well, I... that’s completely different. Situationally.”

“How? Situationally.” Smart ass.

“Because you know that I like you.”

Now it was her turn to be caught with her mouth open, closing it without a word, mulling over her response. He was being vulnerable with her right now. Real.

He looked even more handsome in the low light of her dressing room. The red lamp shades made it look like he had hearts scattered in his blue eyes. He took a step towards her and she didn’t move away. 

“Is that why you’re upset, Frannie?” He asked, his voice like velvet. “’Cause you like me, too?”

Of course she liked him. How could she not? He was a recipe for heartache wrapped in charm and velour. It would be too easy to fall for him, as easy as breathing. He was right in front of her now, looming above. The back of his hand brushed against the apple of her cheek. She inhaled sharply, her eyes searching his for the answer to the questions her heart asked.

Should I really be doing this?

He made the decision for her. When his lips crushed against hers, she cleaved to him, letting him melt against her. She could feel his relief when she didn’t retreat from him. He smiled, enveloping her face in his hands, petting her ears, exhaling indulgently, saying thank you with eager presses. 

Elvis was pushing her back till her knees hit her settee. She stopped him, her hands on his chest. When he pulled away for air, blinking slowly while gazing down at her, his mouth parted. He almost panted with passion. She was helpless not to let him continue. He took her down, his large body pinning her to the cushions. She felt warmth pooling between her thighs. He was such a fucking good kisser, his hands busily caressing her, his tongue gently sweeping against her bottom lip, kindly asking for permission. She readily allowed him in, letting him lick against her in the same beat of his hips, which had begun to pitch forward against her own.

“Frannie…” He muttered into her neck, making her shudder and cling to him. What was he doing to her? Whipping her into a fervor pitch just with a kiss and a deft roll of his hips like this. He was parting her thighs, making her accept him between them. His trousers were silky against her skin, his mouth desperate against her neck and his hands exploring her body. Starting with the dip of her waist, he let his fingers trace her. 

She arched into his touch, settling comfortably with him on top of her. It kept creeping up on her, the brevity, the quickness with which she was allowing this to happen. But she never pushed a man away because she was prudish or scared, only because she wanted to know that he meant to stay with her. That he was willing to get to know the real her. Yet something about them felt right. She couldn’t help but adventure headlong into this foray with him, learn these things about one another. About how sweet his mouth tasted, or how sturdy his hands were, gripping the small of her waist.

The vapors were rising and she could feel her body flush with heat. Her head began to spin, grounded by his weight. She touched him, cradling his face, pulling him into another kiss. Stirring his hips against her, she let out an unbecoming sound, one that he wanted her to make again and again with the way he continued that very movement.

“This side of you, how long was she waitin’ to come out?” He asked against her lips, stealing her breath with another smoldering kiss. Marking her with bruising passion. He was eating her up and she couldn’t get enough, even knowing that this was hurtling too fast, too far. 

Maybe he felt her about to retreat, to douse the flames, so he quickened his pace, rocking his hips against her, lacing her hands with his and hoisting them above her head while he kissed her fluttering throat, leaving little love bites as he went. 

She cleared her throat. 

“You want me to be honest with you?” Francesca poised the question and he was hooked on hearing the answer. Gazing down at her, his hair falling out of place. “I do like you, Elvis.” She felt his hot hands slipping up her thighs, darting underneath the shadows of her dress. The fabric began to bunch at her waist and he was mesmerized, watching her face as he pet her. 

“No sex,” she insisted breathlessly when he cupped her panties, palming the white cotton. Had she been anticipating this deep down? She wore the type of undies that turned him on most and delighted at the sight of his mouth parting.

“Anything you say, Frannie.”

His lack of fuss surprised and endeared her. What a good boy—a gentleman, even. Taking what he could get. Perhaps he really did like her. If only that were enough.

“This isn’t how I usually… conduct myself.”

“Well, I really love the way you’re conducting yourself right now.” He notched her dress up just a bit higher, catching the little bow at the top of her panties. It took his breath away.

“You should see how they match the top,” she alluded, rolling her shoulders and letting her dress fall. He eagerly assisted, tugging it down to show her lush breasts, attractively on display in a white cotton bra. It complimented her olive skin nicely. He touched her with open hands, gripping her impatiently. His thumbs pressed gingerly on either cup and he whirled in small circles, slowly stirring her, sending jolts down her spine with every spin. He was making her squirm, touching her so thoroughly. And he’d barely graced her bare skin. She worried if she could control herself if he did. She could be a voracious lover, taking a man for an endurance ride, and Elvis seemed all too ready for the task. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. 

“So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a real date now?”

She laughed throatily. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, big guy.”

He shivered, holding her tighter. “I like that. Keep calling me that.”

“Only if you keep behaving.” She retorted, with only a sliver of venom laced in. Still, he knew what he needed to say. To really get the panties to drop. And maybe get her to… like him more.

“You know. I’m sorry. About before, I am. I’m just—You…” Where to start? He breathed out, tousling her pretty hair. He didn’t need to make excuses; he knew she wasn’t the type of woman to wanna be fed any. But she waited attentively, patiently, for him to say the right words that would reel her heart in. Maybe she’d never be able to love a guy like him, but he could at least get her to kinda like him. “I’m sorta, y’know, stupid when it comes to women’s feelings. I know that I like the attention, it makes my big dumb ape brain happy when a girl tells me I’m her favorite artist, or I’m sooo handsome—”

“Oh, please.” Frannie snorted. Elvis giggled too. 

“I’m going somewhere with this, I promise. I just want to say, I’ll quit listening to the part of me that says to entertain these girls and start listening to the really, really loud part, begging, pleading to listen to—” He leaned into her neck, still as stone, his hands poised on her ribs. She froze. “Frannie! Francesca!” He was tickling her, making her laugh involuntarily. She couldn’t even accuse him of playing unfairly; he was making her fight for every breath between bouts of laughter.

When he let her go and they were both catching their wind, looking longingly, almost warily at one another, she put her hand on his wrist, “Take me to dinner tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Hmm. I’m busy tonight,” she coyly replied, letting him place butterfly kisses along her exposed collar. He dipped a few to the pillow of her cleavage, nuzzling into her, brushing his cheek along them. Almost purring. She played with his hair.

“You ever ride a motorcycle?”

She chuckled and he looked up to see what he’d said that was so funny. Behind a daintily furled finger, she grinned. “I’m very acquainted with them, darling.”

His ears went red and his cheeks bloomed with color when she called him sweet names. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night!”

“Or, how about we ride separately, but together.” She could tell she was speaking his language when his eyes brightened. There was that wagging tail again.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at Sullivan’s.”

*

He couldn’t believe it. She was letting him in. He felt her skin. He tasted her tongue. He had her fingers squeezing his while he kissed her. When he palmed her down there, he’d felt how wet she’d gotten just from kissing. She was mesmerizing and constantly on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He dreamed about her again. 

They were riding horses through the woods together, somewhere in Tennessee. It was snowy and there were perfect white flakes on her thick lashes. She looked like an angel atop a black mare. Next thing he knew, they were beside a roaring bonfire and he was taking her savagely in the dirt, her cries like music in his ears.

Again, he awoke thrusting his sheets, reaching out for her and grasping nothing. Dreams were weird and his always had been exceptionally so, but now they were also sex fueled. Francesca Ferrara fueled.

He brushed his teeth and thought of Frannie. What was she having for breakfast right now? He got dressed and wondered what she would be wearing. He stepped out into the living room, tumbling into the game room to play some billiards with his boys and pass the time until he could see her again. 

Filming started Monday and Cassandra wanted everyone at their best, well rested. They stopped by a local burger joint. Joe griped about the director for the third time that day.

“I’m just saying. That lady had some nerve. Talking over me like that. Wouldn’t even let me explain. I don’t drink that stuff. You know what was in that punch?” He stabbed a steak fry into ketchup. “I’ll tell you. That was Malort.”

All of them gagged in response.

“Malort. Cheap garbage. It's a better drain cleaner than it is as a liquor. I don’t buy that shit. Don’t know anybody who does. Maybe poor guys on welfare.” Joe shuddered. “That’s some immature high school level shit, pouring it into an open drink like that though. I’d never do that. We’d never do that.”

Elvis held up his hands. They knew he believed them. “She’s just terrified of anything going wrong, is all. It’s her first big budget film and she’s critical of everything.” Especially me.

“She’s giving you a hard time cause you’re a man,” Marty quipped around a mouth full of burger, the others nodding in agreement.

“Damn, this is good,” Red gruffed, hardly saying a thing while he inhaled his plate, sucking his fingertips after every bite.

“I’ll talk to her about letting you guys back on set,” Elvis promised, knowing that he could grease the wheels with Cassandra a little bit. Tell her he’d let her family have free merchandise or something. Even a meeting with him and all that jazz.

“Ehh, don’t even worry about it, champ. We’ll just be distracting you, keeping you from uh—making it with that Ferrara girlie.” Lamar Fike’s double chin jiggled as he laughed.

Elvis grinned. “Don’t talk about my Frannie.” 

“Oh, his Frannie, he says!” Marty chimed in, banging the tabletop, turning heads in their direction. 

“I’m just trying something a little different. A little more…”

“Serious?” Red finished, the others waiting on his answer like a bunch of sad sacks. Like Elvis was going to marry and settle down with two and a half kids, white picket fence, labrador and station wagon. 

Elvis shrugged, picking at the fries on his plate, anticipating dinner tonight. He had made the reservations and the breathless host had told him they could have a whole section to themselves, but he asked instead to just be seated far from the door, maybe outside on the balcony. He didn’t want a bunch of people coming up to them, star struck. He’d just wanted a private evening alone with her.

“Yeah. Just a bit more serious this time. Frannie is a really nice girl.”

“Don’t go falling in love.” Red warned.

“Don’t go breaking that nice girl’s heart, you old dog!” Lamar added, clearing his plate.

It was the last intention on his mind. In fact, it was paradoxically the one thing keeping him the tightest bound from diving into things with her. He wanted to take her on a trip to Europe, he wanted to take her to Bloomingdale’s and let her pick out anything her heart desired. Buy her a puppy, buy her a fur coat, buy her a matching pink Cadillac, buy her a house across from his so that he could see her at his leisure. 

But above all, he didn’t want to hurt her. And inevitably, he always hurt the women he got involved with. He already gutted her with just a little harmless flirting. It worried him that his wandering eye would get the best of him and she wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to continue forgiving him, accepting him back into her life. He couldn’t do that to her. She said so herself, that she didn’t want to just be part of his failures, his shortcomings, his bad films, his broken relationships and used women.

Francesca wanted something he would have to dig deep to give. His truest self wasn’t the type of man that she deserved. He had a lot of thinking to do while he picked out which outfit looked best. “Navy or white?” He asked the guys, holding up two ties, the poll for white winning out.

He wore a sporty black three piece, his red under shirt conveying his bleeding, beating heart. His gold cufflinks clinked against his helmet as he placed it on his head, careful not to mess up his hair. Tugging on his jacket, he headed out the door. Sunset painted the mountainous horizon in swatches of orange and violet. The blue sky fading beneath dotted with starlight, guiding him towards the city as his bike ate up smooth black asphalt. He knew to meet her at her apartment so that they could ride together—but separate—as she’d put it.

Elvis caught Francesca again, looking out the open window. And he wondered how long she had been waiting there for him, in a flowing red dress and black leather boots. Riding boots. She looked like a mermaid, wind racing lovingly against her figure, whipping her hair wildly about her face. A vision of loveliness. Maybe this was what it meant to truly take a heart’s gamble and roll the dice.

[chaotic-beautiful]

Need to touch the grass

Can people just stop complaining non stop about the product placements in the episode ??? 

Yes I get it why some people may find it annoying , It takes one out of the story and all that , but I do think it was delicately placed and not too much to snap the mood.

But most importantly , have some decency and gratitude ( two virtues that are getting increasing rare nowadays as is common sense , which is a rare sense nowadays ! ) . This is not a show backed by giant corporate conglomerates like Netflix or Amazon. This is Thai BL show that once got scrapped because Filmania got bankrupt and we should be forever grateful that one of the lead actors were extremely attached to the story / character he’s playing, enough to convince his friend and industry buddies to create a new PH to produce the show , channeling the conviction enough so that the executive produced was literally ready to do freefall ( he recently talked about it in their DramaArtsChula interview , how Mile approached him with the script , requesting him to take it up , how he invested all his money in it and nearly went bankrupt , couldn’t even buy cheap fruits from the market . ) and how Mile’s friend revealed that Mile himself investing 9 figure amount in KP , along side Pond when the money was tight and they couldn’t go through . Enough to use whatever connection they have in the industry to bring sponsors. 

Each and every single sponsor that came forward to place their trusts on a rookie newbie production house on their 1st project , which is itself on a niche genre with little to no guarantee to get any money return , the entire fandom should be forever thankful to them for making the show even possible. For making the show look as expensive and deluxe and plush and convincing as it is. Without the massive amount of money rolling in , the show would’ve looked cheap ( I’m looking at some of the other so called mafia shows like Unforgotten night .. which among many other things , just doesn’t look like flashing money the way I’d expect from Bangkok based Mafioso. )

Case in point - that could have been our beloved show. Looking that cheap.

 If not for Mile and Pond and other sponsors ( the bread, hair color , cheese and noodle ones . ) 

Worse, the show might not have been even a thing. Regardless of which couple you love, you could’ve missed out on them entirely . Or they could’ve looked like cheap thugs in roadside theater.

Think about it. Let it sink in. Be grateful. There’s a reason I grit my teeth through the product placements , because when I think of the alternatives ( it freezes my blood thinking KP wouldn’t have existed , it was infact a very real possibility ), I feel grateful enough to not even think of complaining or grumbling.

[welldonebeca]

it's a Bad Idea, right? (4)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC!Betty WC: 1.2k words Warnings: Mafia AU. Secret identity au. Tension.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Masterlist

Betty should not have been surprised to cross paths with Steffan again.

Sure, New York was huge, but Brooklyn wasn’t endless and there were only so many placed Hydra had its tentacles on.

But the supermarket was a new one.

She hadn’t seen him for a whole week, but his tip really had been helpful that week, to be fair to him.

The Mafia paid well, indeed.

That was why she remembered him, of course.

No other reason.

He was the one to stop her before she saw him, all the way in the dairy section.

“Betty,” he called.

And maybe she was ovulating, because the voice of that man shouldn’t make a healthy woman this thirsty in public.

“Morning,” she spoke back.

Steffan walked to her, his golden hair wiped back and perfectly in shape.

“Good morning,” he smiled, all charming, his basked in one hand, and the thing looked tiny compared to him.

Betty tried to look nonchalant and casual on her spot.

“I would like to apologise for the other night again,” he offered. “I didn’t meant to spook you.”

She shifted the basked to her other hand.

“It’s alright,” she assured him. “You were really respectful.”

He stopped at her side, and damn, she was so tall. And large.

“Still,” he insisted. ‘It was a haste decision.”

She nodded. Yes, it was.

“Thanks.”

They fell into silence for a moment, quiet as she looked through the cold shelf.

“Trying to find cheese?” Steffan asked, sounding a bit… tense?

She glanced back at him, and the joke was too quick on her lips for her to stop it.

“A bishop in Wisconsin said something antisemitic so the temple has decided to boycott cheddar cheese.”

And just as she suspected, that right right over Steffan’s head.

“Oh,” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

Betty winced. Oh damn. She’d just told a German she was a Jew.

Her grandparents would be so disappointed.

“It’s...” a joke, she tried to argue, but decided against it. “Yeah. Non-practicing, though. I get all the persecution and none of the benefits.”

She wanted to curse at herself. Her jokes were horrible, why she did keep making them?

“But don’t tell your friends,” she mumbled. “I know Hydra is… not… hm… friendly. To us.”

Nazis. Hydra was full of Nazis.

And Steffan was a fucking German!

"Your secret is safe with me," he assured her with a friendly smile. "You should try cantal."

It made her frown and look at him.

Cantal?

"Cheese," he added quickly, as if clarifying. "It's a good cheddar replacement; they're quite similar."

Yes, it was.

Now, Betty was French. Dad had been the one who had the idea of immigrating to the south of France for work, and mum would have followed him to hell, which was why Elżbieta was born there, and Polish or not, she was French.

In France, cheddar cheese was practically a mortal sin. If a temple ever decided to boycott it, she'd sign up in a heartbeat.

"Parmesan too," she chimed in as she picked up a block. "It's very nice."

She tossed it into her basket.

"If you're keeping my secrets, then I should tell you I'm not eating kosher."

Nor did Wanda and Pietro. They had never eaten kosher since moving in together – Betty hadn’t eaten kosher since she moved out of her parents’ house.

"I eat cheese and egg and bacon sandwiches twice a week," she confessed, the package of bacon in her basket enough of a proof. "Usually with bagels, and often with cream cheese too."

If she was breaking the rules, might as well break all of them at once.

He hummed along, seemingly unperturbed.

"Sounds tasty," Steffan remarked.

Betty’s thoughts ran wild as she held the basket in both hands.

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t-

“I can make you one someday,” she offered, leaning it to get a sick of butter, not looking at him.

Now, she didn’t know she wanted him to say yes or no, dammit.

"I'd love a bagel sandwich anytime," he said simply, the sound of a smile quite obvious. "Do you need help with those groceries?"

She exhaled, relaxing.

Okay, alright.

Piet was home, he could keep an eye in for her.

“Absolutely,” she agreed. “I’ll have a lot of bags to carry.”

Two bags. She had two bags.

But he was strong, he could carry them.

“I can help you,” he offered. “With the rest of it.”

And he did.

It was a foreign and a strangely serene experience to shop with him. Steffan was quite good at picking fruits, didn’t complain about her carrying a calculator to make sure she didn’t go over her budget and bagged her items into her ecobags very quickly and neatly.

He took the street side of the pavement when they left, with all three bags – two of hers, one of his – and didn’t seem to require a lot of talk.

“How long have you been in New York?” he asked as they crossed a street.

Betty paused for a moment to consider.

It’d been… a while.

“Seven years, almost eight,” she told him. "I came when I turned eighteen to study Fashion Design at FIT. I got to study costume design for a couple of years, but things got tougher back home, and I couldn't just work as an unpaid apprentice while funding my own visa. So, now I'm a waitress."

And she recognised how out of place it was to be from fucking France and go to the United States to study Fashion, but ever since she was a little girl, Betty wanted to be in New York. And now she was in New York and it was nothing like she expected or wanted it to be.

"Fashion?" he inquired. "Sounds nice. So you design clothes and keep up with trends and all that?"

Betty nodded, offering a faint smile.

"All that," she agreed. "But I haven't had the chance to work on clothes in a while."

“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

She glanced at him and shrugged.

"I'm a waitress," she reminded him. "I don't have much time or money to spare."

Steffan nodded in understanding.

"I see," he said quietly.

She looked at him.

“What about you? How long have you been here?”

It was his turn to pause, and he seemed to think about it as well.

“Over a decade,” he decided.

And yet, Steffan didn’t elaborate on it, which peaked her curiosity even more.

Yet…

“Is this one of those answers you’re not allowed to detail?” she asked, trying to sound less tense and more playful. “Because of the business?”

He chuckled in response.

“You can say so,” Steffan decided. “I don’t think I’m allowed to share that details.”

She hummed along.

“Do you know a lot about it?” he asked suddenly. “The business?”

Betty bit her lower lip, tense.

Well.

“I know enough not to mess with it,” she shrugged. “And to not tell you guys about my heritage, although I was dumb enough to tell it to you.”

He let out a chuckle, and she felt her cheeks a bit warm.

“And I can assure you this detail won’t leave my lips,” Steffan affirmed again.

Betty knew. Sure, she had only met him once before, and yet… well, it felt like she could trust him.

He had something in him she couldn’t quite name, but enjoyed.

They arrived at her building, and Betty stopped, taking a deep breath.

Okay.

She was bringing him in.

"We're here," she announced, indicating her building.

Steffan hesitated for a moment and then gestured towards the gate.

"Ladies first."

. . .

“it’s a Bad Idea, right?” was posted on my Patreon in September 2023 and is fully finished. To have early access to it (and lots of other stories), consider subscribing to my page! It’s just $2 a month, and I know you won’t regret it!

. . .

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Bad Idea: @peaceloveancolor

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Is it too late to request mafia prompt?

It was not too late! I got nostalgic about No New Friends this weekend, so let's drop in on that universe.

“Ma!” Cristina Rizzoli calls out to Jane from about twenty yards away, marching toward Jane’s perch on a stone wall not far from the beach. She pulls Cicciu along, and he buries his nose in a map as his sandals scrape the sand under them. “Ma!”

“What! What,” Jane asks neither time, but softens her demand when Cristina gets up close, flush with exhilaration and the sun. To see her children in the Sicilian summer fills her with both accomplishment and pride.

“Can we go take some pictures over there while we wait for Mommy?” Cristina begs before Jane ever says no, such that Jane can’t. 

Jane turns, seabreeze sweeping through her hair when she makes a show of scoping the area. “Sure,” she says finally. She sighs, dropping her shoulders just to get a rise out of her daughter. The bait is taken, because Cristina stamps her sixteen-year old foot with all her might. Jane chuckles lowly. “Just stick, together, a’right? And stay where I can see you. I’m gonna try and wrangle Mommy so we can all enjoy the water.”

“Oh, thank you,” Cristina squeezes Jane, her camera bulky between them. “Thank you, thank you. We’ll be right over there!”

“Yeah, yeah, go. Practice your Italian!” Jane yells after her children, who wave her off.

She turns her attention to the street market just across the way from where she stands. People peddle seafood, fresh produce, and baked goods that she knows she’s going to eat entirely too much of during this trip. There are men selling juicing tools for citrus, there are women in front of booths full of takeaway pasta, there are fishmongers tossing their catches from a cooler to a bed of ice, and yet, Jane’s concern is only the woman in the white sundress handing a euro bill to a boy who gives her wrapped up cheese in return.

Jane can wait no longer. She approaches. “Scusi, signura,” she says in that natural, liquid Sicilian she has, “parra sicilianu?” Excuse me, ma’am, do you speak Sicilian?

The woman places the cheese in her cloth bag and turns, her honey hair wavy under her summer hat. When she turns, she smiles in a way only Jane has made her for the last seventeen years. “No, ma capisciu si parra chiù lentamenti,” she hedges. No, but I’ll understand if you speak more slowly.

Somehow, Maura’s recognition of the ruse and her willingness to play along turns Jane’s joke into a fire in her belly. Jane sticks her hands in her pants’ pockets and steps closer. They share air. “Hmm, beni, mi po’ diri comu si va a Taormina…?” Just as Maura is about to kiss her, Jane deepens the roleplay and breaks their stare so she can pull her own map out of her satchel, one identical to their son’s. She opens it up, and they both move to the side so an old woman can buy her own cheese. Well, can you tell me how to get to Taormina?

Maura pulls the top of the map toward her between two fingertips. “Ah. Devi turnar indetru,” she trails down the coast to Taormina, tapping her fingertip toward it, and then up Jane’s chest until she strokes Jane’s chin. You have to go back.

“Ah, minchia,” Jane shudders. The curse rattles out of her lips in a whisper and her face flushes. She regrets foregoing Maura’s kiss, leans in herself this time. Well shit.

Maura doesn’t pull away. She stops Jane just before they come together. “Si ti po’ jiri in machina?” she asks, but Jane is already in motion. Can I drive you?

Their tongues slip against one another, and Jane puts all that precious height, that familiar body weight, into it. When she opens her eyes, Maura’s crow’s feet are close and Jane wants to fly. “You sure seem to know a lot of Sicilian to me. And do you routinely offer strangers rides?” she teases just so that she stays put on the ground. 

“Are you a stranger? You don’t taste like one,” Maura growls, bringing the kiss back. Their lips smack a trio of times when Maura weaves her free hand into the hair on the back of Jane’s head. “Although you do taste different.”

“All the Sicilian oranges?” Jane offers with a smirk. “Or the coffee.”

“The power,” Maura corrects her. She looks down to where their hips meet. “The honor. A made man is stronger on the tongue. Now let’s go get the children before they wander off.”

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | Chapter 2: Jaemin x Reader

Summary: 

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

CHAPTER 1

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

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

"So you want to be a doctor?" Jaemin asked as he took a bite off the crust of his pepperoni and cheese pizza. He could have easily eaten it like any other person, but of course, he refuses to be normal and chooses to do even this his way.

I shrugged and tucked my legs under me with a sigh. We were currently sitting on an expansive field of grass overlooking a cluster of abandoned factories, the first place that Jaemin actually asked me to hangout with other than his regular visits in the cafe. It was a couple of minutes of drive away from the city—and is honestly kinda sketchy looking—but at twilight, the place transforms into a peaceful sea of green with the clear night sky watching over it. 

"I'm trying to be a doctor. A surgeon, to be exact." 

He turned and gazed at me quietly for a few seconds, his slice of pizza halfway into his mouth.

"Trying?"

"Yes. Getting into the medical field… It's tough. And expensive. I can take the endless studying, but the money… that can be so hard to get by sometimes."

"Why? How much is it?" He asked innocently, a small frown etched between his eyebrows. Jaemin wasn't lying when he said he doesn't know how to do friends. In fact, there's a lot of things he doesn't seem to know. Normal ones too, almost as if he lives in a bubble of his own. It has always intrigued me, how someone can be so out of touch with things, but of course I never took it against him. 

"Hmm… really expensive. Usually students like me can get loans but that will have us strapped into long years of paying them off even after finishing our studies. I did get a partial scholarship though so that helps, but the day to day academic expenses are just expensive so you know…"

"Doesn't your job at the cafe cover that?"

"No way," I answered quickly with a short laugh. "Well, barely. But it isn't comfortable. If I want to get a side gig that can pay for everything, I might as well work at a strip club. Or find a sugar daddy," I answered off-handedly as I popped a french fry into my mouth. 

"You don't want to go to strip clubs. They're dangerous."

I choked a little at how seriously he said that. 

"Why do you sound like you know so much about them?" I grinned and teasingly wriggled my brows at him. He didn't answer, taking another bite of his pizza instead. 

"Just… don't even think of doing that, okay?"

"Jaemin, do you really think I can pass off as a stripper? Relax. I know that's one job I'm underqualified for."

"Overqualified. You're too pretty to be one."

He said that so casually I didn't even know what hit me until he had moved on to another topic. 

"You know if you need money, I can help."

I gave him an odd look, still reeling from that compliment he just gave. 

"How?"

"I can give you money." 

I blinked at him.

"In exchange for what?"

"Nothing. I can just give you money."

I stared at him like he had grown another head. 

"Why?"

He looked at me like I was asking such a common sense question. 

"Because you need it."

"Jaemin, you're not my sugar daddy. Is this how you always offer help to your friends? Because I am seriously so concerned for you right now."

"Well, if you want, I can also be your sugar—"

I slapped his arm before he could even finish what he was trying to say. 

"Ow! That is not very sugar baby-like of you."

"I'm going to wring your neck, I swear." 

He flashed me his grin and dropped himself back on the grass, his arms behind his head. It was dark, but the moon threw just enough light on the curves of his face to compliment his features. His eyes twinkled back at the stars looking down on us and I forced myself to look away after realizing how much my heart started beating harder in my chest just by staring at him. 

I don't know when I started feeling this way towards him, but it is for sure not the first time I noticed where my emotions were going. It is odd… how these things happen. One day everything was going well like normal, until all of a sudden there is a skipping of a pulse after a smile, a flushing of the cheeks when he laughs. Everything is normal, until one day, it's all just free fall. 

Of course, I'm not stupid enough to do anything about it though. Jaemin has been nothing but a good friend, but the fact that I still know nothing about him is a big factor, at least for me. Lately, I felt like he was trying to open up more of his world to me—case in point, these quick escapes to this field—but there are still barriers there, walls that seem too steep to be broken down. 

"I wanted to be a surgeon too…" 

His voice was so quiet that I barely caught it when he spoke again. I looked back at him and caught the pensive look on his face, the same one he would always have whenever he thinks nobody is looking his way—that expression of longing that seems to overwhelm him every time he retreats into his own world. 

"You can still be one though… it's not too late yet," I whispered as I leaned back so that I was laying beside him. I rolled to my side to face him better, my eyes scanning his moon-washed features.  

He chuckled and briefly looked at me. 

"I wish it could be that easy, but it's really complicated."

"Why?"

He rolled on his side as well so that we were facing each other. The stare he gave me was so intense, it felt like he was pouring his heart out to me, except he can't do it with words. I tried my hardest to meet his gaze, my own way of telling him that he can if he wanted to... That I am his safe space.

"Didn't we agree on not asking questions?" He asked in a soft whisper. 

"I never agreed to such a thing." 

"But you've been trying your best." 

That made me purse my lips. My gaze moved away from his momentarily as I tried to weigh my words. 

"Until when can I not ask questions…?"

"Until when can I ask you to do it without you leaving me…?"

Our eyes met again. In that exact moment, I knew we were both on the same page despite the unsaid words and the secrets. 

"Until I can, Jaemin."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

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

"Hi, hi! What's your specialty here?" 

It took me about three seconds to register the boy currently beaming at me by the counter. I was going through some inventory so I had my back turned to the door for a little bit but I sure was expecting to hear the small bell by the entrance ding to alert me of new customers. I was about to open my mouth to answer when another boy strolled towards us, coming from the area where we have our pastries on display. There were… two of them I didn't notice? 

"Yah, Chenle. They have cheese bread. Buy me some." 

I softly cleared my throat and tried to plaster on my well-practiced service smile.

"Um… hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. Would you like to have a cold or hot drink? I can recommend our best-sellers for each." 

"What does Jaemin-hyung usually order?"

My smile dropped and I stared at the duo in front of me. Who are these kids? 

"I'm Jisung and this is Chenle. We're Jaemin-hyung's friends."

The taller of the two answered as he seemed to have picked up my confused expression. I nodded slowly, my eyes scanning the visitors. They look just a little bit younger than Jaemin, maybe about two to three years tops, as noticeable from their more careless, youthful air.

"Did… Jaemin recommend our place?" 

The pair exchanged glances before they both broke into giggles.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What the hell are you two doing here?”

The three of us whipped our heads towards the source of the voice by the door. Standing there was Jaemin, his face tensed as he stared at the two boys in front of me. It’s obvious from the looks of his reaction that he did not, at all, recommend this place to his friends. 

I was about to call out to him when the door pushed open behind him again to reveal two other boys.

“Yah… I told you to distract him, Jeno-hyung!” Chenle whined while Jisung pointed at his friend as if silently telling everyone that it was all his idea in the first place. The one I assume is called Jeno shrugged and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. He looked almost the same age as Jaemin but with a more muscular build that reminded me of some of the athletes at my uni. 

“I tried. Haechan slipped. Go blame him.” 

My gaze moved to the other one standing on Jaemin’s right at that moment. He is a little shorter than the other two boys crowding the door but there is something about him that seems wilder than the two. His eyes sparkled as they met mine and his lips twisted up into a slight smirk as he knocked back the lollipop he had into the other side of his mouth. He crossed the space between the entrance and the counter quickly with long quick strides and leaned his hand into Chenle’s shoulder to peer down on me. 

“Ah, so that’s why this is your favorite place, Jaem. How selfish of you to keep it all to yourself~” 

“Um…” 

Jaemin finally moved to approach us quickly, his eyes moving between me and the three boys in front of my counter. The boy called Jeno wandered into the cafe, looking at the bags of beans and tea packs we have on display at the far side. 

“I’m sorry, I had no idea they were coming,” he told me apologetically, his face strained. I couldn’t really understand why he was so worried but I gave him a smile to assure him that everything is fine. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I have no customers anyway so I’m glad your friends came over.”

I have a feeling there is more to his anxiousness than I could understand. 

“She’s right. We’re just here to have some coffee,” the boy, Haechan, said as he winked at me. “So what do you recommend, miss? I won’t have anything Jaemin loves to get, if it means having his death concoction.

That made me laugh a bit. Jaemin’s frown deepened.

“Well, we have really good Chia tea and some hot chocolate. Our cocoa is sourced from the Philippines so—”

“According to online reviews, their blueberry cheesecake is bomb,” said a new voice that followed the opening of the cafe door for the third time in the past ten minutes. All of us looked around to see a new visitor with black and blonde hair falling over his eyes. His thin frame was covered by a light jacket and he glanced up from his phone to talk to us as if he was right there with us from the beginning.

“Do you have it right now?” 

“Uh… yes.”

“Seriously, who else did you crackheads invite?” 

Jaemin turned to Haechan and the rest of the guys with an expression I couldn’t quite paint.

His answer came with the cafe door dinging open again. 

“Yo, man. Am I late?”

Jaemin gave one look at the boy with blue hair, groaned, and cursed silently to himself. 

-----------

“Go back there and hangout with your friends,” I nudged Jaemin slightly by the shoulders as he continued to fume silently beside me. I was finishing the orders of the group and he seemed to still be adamant in keeping his distance from them for as long as he can. 

“I don’t hangout with assholes.” 

I chuckled. He looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Hey, language. Why are you so pressed, anyway? They just came by to visit. I’m glad I have customers.” 

For a moment, I thought he was not going to give me any answers again. Jaemin simply stared  at me, his arms crossed over his chest for a few full heartbeats. 

“I don’t think I should get you any deeper into my life as it is,” he finally said quietly, voice just loud enough for me to hear over the humming of the espresso machine. I looked up at him, surprised by his words and the fact that he actually replied to my question. 

“I suppose I cannot ask what that means…?” 

He gave me a small tight smile. Just then, the microwave beeped to tell me that the food I was heating was ready. We both looked at it and Jaemin took the chance to push himself off the counter he was leaning on to grab a tray. 

“I’ll take care of it. We’re making your job harder today, at least let me help serve those dorks.”

I nodded and wordlessly let him put some of the drinks on his tray. I did the finishing touches on the blueberry cheesecake the guy called Renjun ordered before loading it on mine. 

When we both walked to the table that the rest of his friends chose, the boys had already busted the jenga game that we usually offer to our customers. Jisung, Chenle, and Haechan were in the middle of sabotaging each other with their pulls while Renjun and Mark—the last newcomer—were peering over Jeno’s shoulder who I assume was playing a game on his phone.

“Here are your orders. I added extra powdered sugar on your chiffon cake, Jisung,” I said with a smile as I arranged everything on their table. The youngest boy looked up at me with sparkling eyes as if I’ve given him the world. The others took their orders after giving their own variations of thank you. 

“Thank you, noona,” Jisung said before turning to Haechan to “whisper” in his ear.

“I like her.” 

“She can hear you as clear as day, Jisungie.”

“Well, if you need anything, just call out to me alright?” I said with a polite smile, already feeling a little bit more relaxed around the group. I’m sure Jaemin has his own reasons to feel anxious about his friends being here, but they all seem like your regular boys to me. I’ve always wondered what kinds of acquaintances he has and I’m glad to know these are the ones he has around. 

“Wait, can’t you hang out for a while?” Haechan asked as I took the trays with me. Jaemin was quick to answer, throwing dagger glances at the other. 

“She has work.” 

“There are no customers.” 

“You can go back if someone comes. You’re only serving us right now, anyway,” Renjun quipped as he took a bite of his cake. My eyes moved to Jaemin just in time to see his jaw tighten a little bit. He did look a little bit resigned though so I decided to compromise.

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes. I haven’t had my break yet,” I said with a slight smile. Mark patted Jeno’s thigh to give way for me to sit on the space where he had his leg up.

“So, are you and Jaemin-hyung dating? For how long now?” My ass haven’t even touched the seat yet when Chenle shot the question. I looked at him, completely taken aback. 

“Chenle, you don’t just ask people that out of the blue,” Mark said, despite the small playful smirk that he tried so hard to hide. He turned to me apologetically then, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t go out often.”

I was too taken aback that I failed to notice how Jaemin didn’t even try to deny Chenle’s assumption. I glossed over it and chose to take another route instead. 

“Do you guys all live together?” I asked with genuine interest. Jaemin did say that he doesn’t get a lot of chance to socialize but it seems like it applies to all his friends, too.

“We all live in the...same apartment, yes,” Jeno said carefully. 

“Oh… roommates.” 

“We grew up together, actually,” Renjun pointed at Jisung who had his upper lip covered with powdered sugar as he shoveled cake into his mouth. “Jaemin birthed him.” 

“That’s right,” Jaemin said so seriously with a straight face beside me. 

“So you’re also childhood friends.”

“I guess you could say that. Chenle and I both came from China but we grew up here.”

I nodded, already invested in knowing more.

“Are you studying? Or are you always here?” Haechan asked me as he deftly removed a block from the Jenga tower he had reassembled. 

“Mm, yes. I’m on pre-med right now.” 

Jeno gave a low whistle and lowered his phone a bit to look at me.

“You’re going to be a doctor?”

I smiled. “Hopefully a surgeon, yes.”

“So does that mean you’ll be stitching up wounds and getting bullets off flesh and things like that?” Chenle asked. I laughed at how specific the situations he gave were. 

“I can actually do them right now, but yes. My father used to be a doctor too and I helped him around his clinic before he died so I know the basics.” 

“I didn’t know about that…” Jaemin spoke up beside me in a quiet voice, breaking his silence.

“About what?”

“About your parents.”

I laughed. “You never asked.” 

“So are you living alone?” Mark followed through. 

“Right now, yes. I lost my parents a couple of years ago but I do have an auntie living right in the next city.” 

“Man, so you’re working and studying at the same time. You’re tough.” 

“Thank you, but it’s not really anything new to college students like me. How about you guys? Are you in college?” 

The boys exchanged quick looks with each other. 

“We’re all, uh, home schooled,” Renjun finally answered. 

“Oh… I see. That makes a lot of sense.” Just then, my eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. I started slightly after realizing that my fifteen minutes of break is up.

“I have to go though, sorry. I’m alone right now so I have to work on multiple things,” I said apologetically as I picked myself up from my seat. I gave everyone a quick smile before retreating behind the counter. 

I didn’t look back to see how Jaemin stared at me as I left and how he finally caught Mark who was staring at him in return. 

The two boys didn’t have to speak to understand each other, but the younger one easily got what his captain clearly told him with his gentle gaze. 

Be careful. 

----

Chapter 3

[ratsoh-writes]

Omg, I have this curse ask in mind for so long now. Do you know this meme ad with the "You can't say no to Panda" (you can find it on YouTube ) ? What if it happened to your main boys out of nowhere ?

Ok so I looked up the panda commercials and I think I died man. These are so good!!! Literally I would buy panda cheese because of that commercial lol

The commercials in question

Sans: with shaking hands while staring into the pandas soulless eyes, sans levitates three more panda cheeses into his shopping cart then hurries away lol. Coward

Papyrus: literally he just wants mozzarella and papyrus WILL NOT BACK DOWN. Papyrus and the panda are both nose to nose, right up in each other’s faces staring the other down. The panda slowly hands him a bad of shredded panda brand mozzarella cheese. Papyrus nods seriously, and without breaking eye contact, walks away

Star: he just didn’t want the sandwich and now this panda is beating his bike with a stick and honey is hiding behind a tree like a weenie. Star will have a stick-lightsaber joust to defend his honor. And he won’t back down even if it dusts him!!

Honey: he was more in the mood for toast and jam instead of toast and cheese, and now this psycho panda is tearing up his house. Honey hides in the closet and calls the police. When they arrive, his kitchen is ruined and the security footage has 20 minutes of a panda staring creepily into the camera

Red: he’s gonna make this panda his B*TCH for breaking into his house. Red will bare fist fight this dang animal if he has too. The neighborhood is treated to the sight of red and a panda slugging it out in the street lol

Edge: the panda broke his laptop. He breaks their bank. Was putting a whole company out of business over a laptop overkill? Maybe? Did it feel good? Totally >:) oh edge you sweet summer child.. do you think that will stop the panda

Mal: once, just once, mal will ask the mafia for help. Because this panda broke the windows to his shop and some of his goods were stolen. And mal wants it GONE. This may be the start of an unlikely friendship between him, the old lady squad, and ace. We’ll see...

Cash: him and bruiser go on a man hunt to find and capture the panda. They wind up including a bloodthirsty butch, charm who’s just there for the drama, mal who of course is joined by the old ladies, and the most surprising ally of all. Willow. This panda is going down

Oak: he almost cried when that panda overturned his whole picnic table and kicked one of his chickens. Oak would’ve fought back, but his chickens safety was on the line, so he shortcutted away with them instead

Willow: this panda wasted food, kicked his chicken, and worst of all, scared his brother. Willow will stop at nothing to rid the world of this evil. And if it means joining an illegal manhunt, then so be it. He provides the snacks and positive encouragement

[rottingmanifesto]

Headcanons because I’m Bored as Hell

So it’s Fall Break part 2 electric boogaloo and my anxiety is through the roof. Take these headcanons because why not. Tagging @buggeezzsideburn2 because I have a feeling she’d like most of these.

Vito Scaletta (Mafia 2 and a bit of 3)

He’s not as bad as a cook as everyone thinks— he’s actually pretty good, he’s just lazy when it comes to making food for himself.

His eyes are dark blue, NOT brown. M3 can fight me on this

Once upon a time, he knew pieces of Spanish, but that didn’t last long. (Note that there is similarities between all Romance languages and Vito would know a few phrases in Spanish, French, etc. due to cognates. I’m not a linguist though so I can’t really explain any further.)

As a kid, he drew horses and dogs a lot and even made some money off of them. During the war, he’d doodle dogs on his letters home. Not like he’d show anyone his drawings though.

Prefers American music to Italian usually, but he has a soft spot for the music he listened to as a kid

He’s always looked older than he is. This was great when he’d buy beer without getting carded as a teen, but not so much when he entered his 40s. Sorry, Vito, you did NOT age well.

Dated numerous girls, but always knew that he was gay but refused to acknowledge it. He would be in his 50s (so in the 1970s) before he even attempted to verbalize his romantic feelings.

Lincoln and Nicki’s friendship (Mafia 3)

This part is canon: Nicki was the “cool” friend, Lincoln was the “dork” (well, according to Nicki).

When Nicki got married to her wife, Lincoln was the best man and a stand-in for Burke, who refused to show up to his own daughter’s wedding.

Nicki was the designated driver most of the time on their escapades because she didn’t trust Lincoln with any amount of large machinery. That, and he’s only a good driver when he wants to be

Lincoln many years after the events of the game came out properly to Nicki, who in turn sent him a letter saying “I called it, us queers can sniff each other out”.

Lincoln Takes Over Route: during the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s, he publicly donated to numerous LGBTQ+ safe havens and did his best to make New Boudreaux a safe place for the community, for Nicki’s sake.

When they were young, Nicki and Lincoln wanted to go to Alaska together one day and watch the Northern Lights.

Lincoln offered to help Nicki get out of NB once he left for California, but she denied it because she wanted to do it herself. That being said, he still sent her money periodically to help out. They were both too stubborn, so it went on for years.

Nicki Burke (Mafia 3)

Loves animals, but specifically birds. Why? No one really knows, she just does.

As a kid, she had a lot of freckles on her face, but they faded with time. Danny used to play connect-the-dots with her freckles at night to the point where Nicki would stay up with a water gun to catch him.

Older than Danny by 2 years

Her second girlfriend briefly dated Lincoln once, and Nicki told her all about how he was as a kid. Lincoln was a bit annoyed, but he got his revenge later.

She’s a terrible cook. She can do grilled cheese sandwiches and that’s it. She would make food when Burke was passed out and she and Danny were kids, but Danny rarely ate it because almost everything she made was burnt. As a result, Nicki and Danny would sneak over to the Hollow and ask Perla (Sammy’s wife) for food.

When Nicki turned 7, Burke gave her an entire bottle of whiskey. And, being 7, she drank it. After that point, she rarely drank whiskey.

Danny Burke (Mafia 3)

He’s a tit man. (I mean, y’all remember that Mardi Gras scene, that’s canon)

Danny knows a tiny bit of Irish Gaelic and sometimes curses when he misplaces something or someone startles him. Lincoln and Ellis would purposely startle him just to make him say random shit.

Hard of hearing in his right ear due to years of working around loud machinery without proper equipment

He was everyone’s wingman— he got Lincoln his first girlfriend, introduced Nicki to Darlene, and tried many times to hook Giorgi up with this girl named Yvonne. Never worked, by the way, but it was worth a shot.

Had his first kiss when he was 8 (unintentionally but he was so proud of himself)

Hates cleaning. He used to be able to sucker Ellis into helping him, but Ellis eventually began to sabotage everything so Danny would leave him be.

Danny and Ellis were insanely close, similar to Giorgi and Lincoln (before you-know-what). Both were younger brothers, expected to run their dad’s businesses, and felt inferior to their older siblings. Whenever Danny went over to Perla’s as a kid to get food, he always asked to see Ellis.

He accidentally killed a guy once when he was 17, and had Lincoln help him hide the body but felt so guilty he eventually told the victim’s parents “sorry” (he wanted to turn himself in, but Lincoln forced him to stay under the radar).

Ellis Robinson (Mafia 3)

He had a huge crush on Nicki in his teen years. Danny tried to dissuade him, but it didn’t work, and Nicki turned him down pretty harshly after years of being pestered. Thankfully though, Ellis bounced back after a few months and apologized to Nicki for being annoying.

An absolute party animal. He’d drag Lincoln into parties as well, but he rarely joined in.

He skipped classes in high school more often than not, but when he did go, he was pretty good at history and got on the history bowl team (but sadly lost). Just don’t ask him to do any English homework for you, it will look like a second grader’s response.

He loved Christmas but only for the parties and food— he was never that religious.

Ellis learned how to hotwire a car when he was 14 (Burke taught him) and stole a car for Lincoln. But he got caught and Sammy got mad at him, though Perla found it hilarious and sweet and got Sammy to lay off the punishment (beyond leaving him in county jail for the weekend).

Tell me if I should do more!

[octupus-on-the-moon]

A table

~It's been done *laughs in Dr. Frankenstein*. After a lot of sweat, cursing and repeatedly flipping of my laptop and tablet. A new part of a nightmare is ready. It's a bit longer because of my absence and I hope I can keep my motivation up~

《 Previous - Masterlist - Next 》

Ninth part of nightmare

Word count: 1,814

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Warning: Non I guess. Just some fluff and a burned gratine.

Bucky opened the door, awaiting the cold, baldness of the walls. To end up being surprised by the green he saw everywhere.

He totally forgot the little plants, y/n bought for him. They really made a difference. A welcome one. His clenched jaw and frowned eyebrows disappeared.

After taking of his jacket, he took an empty glass and went around pouring some water in all the colorful pots. He cursed under his breath, after he spilled some water for the second time. Mentally making a note to buy a watering can. Without noticing that his dark thoughts lifted and the silence around him was a welcome one, rather than a threatening menace.

Barnes looked at his wristwatch. It was still over an hour, till y/n would come back from college. He felt a sting of joy in his stomach.

That was new, Bucky wondered. It was probably just the excitement of finally having something to look forward to, instead of enduring one day after the other with the same maddening routine.

In the meanwhile, he could be useful and cook lunch. Y/n would be hungry after college and he had promised to cook the next time. Bucky looked in the fridge and cupboards. Potatoes, cheese and bacon. Exactly what he needed

Y/n had 30 minutes of lecture left, till she was free. She really wanted to go back to her little room in James’s apartment after the first class, but Monday was full of important courses, so she somehow managed to convince herself to stay.

The short call with James lifted her spirits considerably. It was his stoic way of talking, as soon as she showed a bit of interest in him, that made her feel warm inside. Her thoughts wandered off. To him. To the unpleasant night and how she finally saw the scared child he was. But then they went off to his blue eyes and the little crinkles around them when he frowned.

He must have been quite a look back in the forties.

Of course she had seen the photos in the Smithsonian, but she pictured him in a classier way. With a fitted suit and a fedora hat, walking down the street stealing hearts. Maybe a girl at his side and his eyes constantly lingering around her, as if she were the whole world and more. At the thought of it, y/n caught herself picturing a girl just like her, beside his tall figure.

That made her stop and turn back to reality. It was not a good sign. Or maybe it was. It felt like forever, since she let someone into her life and James was pretty much the last person she would have thought of. But she also did not expect her father being a criminal and her whole existence a facade.

Life was full of twists and turns lately. Some good, some bad. Maybe it was time to let something good happen.

“Ms. y/l/n, could you resume the discussed topic?” The professors sharp tone ripped y/n out of her train of thought. This will be the longest 30 minutes of my life, she thought.

A quite knock on the door distracted Barnes from intensely starring at the oven. He decided himself for a simple potato gratin, that would hopefully suite y/n’s taste. With is heart beating a bit too fast he neared himself the door.

And there she was. Her hair a little mess. A bag casually hanging around her shoulder and a beam as bright as the sun itself.

“Will you let me in or just keep starring?” Her playful greeting made Bucky’s heart stumble and without wasting words he stepped aside. He made another mental note. His gaze is not to be trusted. “How was therapy?” she asked letting her bag slide to the floor entering the kitchen in on smooth motion “Who of you two bit off the other one´s head first?” It took Bucky moment to get out of his trance.

“I….. We…. It went good” Barnes cleared his throat closing the door behind him “But she got a little suspicious about me deciding to cooperate” Y/n was drinking a glass of water leaning against the counter and once again Bucky could not get his eyes off of her.

“I did not think about that. We should have done one thing at a time. But I guess it´s too late now. Oh! And it smells amazing” she replied signing over to the oven. The quick hand move, the way her voice floated in the air, that one fuzzy hair in her face, everything captured him. “I…” A sharp smell tingling his nose interrupted Barnes. It came from the hot oven in the middle of the kitchen. His concentration fully gathered again, let him act quickly, reaching over for a rug and rescuing his gratin in the last moment. The crust was now a bit darker than needed but it was still acceptable.

“It´s a burned potato gratin” Barnes darkly commented, placing the form in the center of the already ‘set up table’.

“Hey, don´t be so hard on yourself. It still looks amazing”

“I´m not being hard with myself, I´m blaming you. It wouldn´t have burned if you wouldn´t have distracted me” Bucky’s eyes were glimmering amused.

She gasped overly dramatic, laying one hand on her chest “Me?”

“Yes. You” He broke out into a smile, without wasting another thought he reached over to her, brushing that fuzzy string of hair out of her face. Y/n’s giggle stopped for a moment at the closeness between both, making place for a shy smile, her eyes searching the floor. Barnes retreaded himself, feeling a heavy stone inside his stomach, as he realized how intimate the gesture was.

She did not expect him coming so close, her heart was already fluttering and was about to explode at his touch. Then he moved away causing an emptiness inside her. The same emptiness she always felt since the day of the notification. It was the last time she felt truly fulfilled and at ease, she had dreams and goals. Then everything changed. Life suddenly was a landscape of grey. Every task dull and meaningless. Time passed. She soon enough noticed that the emptiness would stay and the grey would only flourish.

Then the nightmare happened. And the already grey landscape had now even dark shadows to be afraid of.

James moved away to cut and serve the gratin. Giving her a little time to calm down her heart beat and ‘take a seat’ on the kitchen counter. After another heartbeat of discreetly observing Bucky serve the plates, y/n decided to break the silence “James”

He looked up with a shy grin “Yes?”

“We really need to get you a table”

….

“Is it really necessary?” Bucky and y/n were standing in front of the furniture store. Bucky incredulously, Y/n exited.

“Well at least I am not going to keep eating on the floor and, or the counter. My back is literally hurting from eating the gratin”

“Yes, it’s true. But. I…” Barnes closed and opened his fists a few times weighting his options “Okey. I guess we can take a look around” She nodded enthusiastically leading the way into the shop, James sighted heavily and followed.

The store was more or less deserted, which relieved Barnes. He didn´t like being in a already overwhelmingly filled hall with an ever more overwhelming count of people in it. The exit routs were explicitly signed which calmed his anxiety a bit more.

The most urgent thing for y/n was definitely the table, which led them to the dinning room section.

“I feel like a mafia boss” Y/n declared sitting down on the front side of a heavy wooden table. The chair, throne-like, up-holstered in a red velvet.

“Yes. A very scary mafia boss” Bucky jeered from the other side of the aisle.

“Hey! I can be scary if I want to”

“Jupp, as scary as a teddy”

She got up from the huge seat and walked over to him “Have you ever started into the cold dead eyes of a teddy bear?”

Bucky thought for an overly long moment “No, I haven´t. What about this one?”

“James. That’s a plastic table and it isn´t even a good quality one. In half a year, you will need to buy a new one” grabbing his arm she dragged him away “Come on these place is gigantic, we can find something better”

Yet, they didn´t. Every table y/n suggested was rejected by Bucky and vice versa. It was mostly to big, to small, to pompous, to dull, to much seats, to little seats and so on.

Both had almost reached the end of the section, when y/n suddenly dragged Bucky over to another exemplar. It´s design was simple, a glass top and a blond wooden frame with matching metal legs. Four chairs coated in a clear fabric rounded the dining set.

“This one. It´s the perfect size and I think I saw stools that would match, for the counter” Y/n sounded near desperate. Bucky took his time to look around the table. He was searching for something specific on it.

The price tag.

Y/n had picked out the most beautiful and practical tables, but the price was often more then exorbitantly high, which led Bucky to refuse all her suggestions. And the same happened with this one, it was by far the best table she had found today. It would look amazing between the plants, near the window, the chairs comfortable to sit on, in the early mornings to drink coffee and read the paper. It was a shame the table was out of Bucky`s scarce budget.

“I don´t know” Barnes commented “The chairs will get dirty pretty fast” Y/n´s face dropped.

She really didn´t expect it being so hard to satisfy Bucky´s furniture taste. Y/n thought that given Bucky´s cloth taste, he would have somewhat the same taste for furniture. Modern, comfy and in style with the room. Yet, every piece he had found acceptable was old styled, plastic or just straight out in a horrible color “You really liked that plastic table didn´t you?” She sighted.

For the break of a second Bucky frowned disgusted, then he nodded convincingly. But it was enough for her to know, what was keeping them from agreeing for a piece of furniture.

Cheap.

Every single table he elected was not because of its design, colour or material, it was because it was cheap. For a moment y/n felt bad. It was selfish of her not thinking that way, even though she truly believed that she didn´t have a rich complex, sometimes she did forget that not everyone had unlimited resources.

“Maybe it´s time for a little break. I think I saw a popcorn stand outside” Bucky’s conflicted face lit up a bit at her words.

All rights reserved.

《 Previous - Masterlist - Next 》

Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[neverendingstories00]

you guessed it...another round (unfortunately) of BoB headcanons in the middle of the night because sleep is for the weak but I am weak

Luz has...a unique sense of style. We’re talking clashing patterns, neon crocs with jibbits, sunglasses and fedoras, you name it. Urban Outfitters who? He was wearing it before it was trendy🙄✋🏽 GET on his level. A wonderful example of his fashion sense is the time the company had weekend passes (modern au) and he decided to wear his best outfit; a white shirt with an horribly outdated meme, cargo shorts with a chain, nike socks, and neon crocs. To top it off; a fedora and sports sunglasses with a purple tint. Yeah, it’s BAD.

To add to the Luz and his horrible fashion sense, do any of you remember icarly and the penny tee’s saying stuff like “my cheese my rules” and “fries matter?” HE OWNS A WHOLE DAMN CLOSET OF THEM

I can see Speirs LOVING Lana Del Rey. He has a secret Spotify and has a whole playlist of his favourite songs by her. Actually not just Lana Del Rey, all the sad girls like Lorde and Mitski. If you catch Speirs singing in a velvet robe to Millon Dollar Man, no you didn’t. You would be dead by then.

Speaking of music tastes, let’s move onto Lewis Nixon. First of all, brace yourself. Lewis Nixon has reverted back into his college phase (like he ever grew out of it). He’s a huge fan of Alternative eighties rock like The Smiths, The Pyscadelic Furs, Talking Heads, The Cure, etc. He has all his old vinyls and it’s a cool collection. However, Nixon hates Morrisey, which is good. He complains about the Smiths, with The Queen Is Dead blasting in the back.

Speirs kidnapped Carwood Lipton one time. Carwood works as an English teacher and Speirs is his boyfriend who works as a real estate agent meets ex mafia hitman but he doesn’t talk about it. Speris one day was like “we’re going camping” and took Carwood...camping. But like the thing is...Carwood told NO ONE. And plus he had a job to teach so yeah. Let’s just say that Carwood might’ve been a missing person’s case for like two weeks. But he kept posting on his Facebook like “what a lovely hike with my lovely boyfriend😍” or “look at our rv? isn’t she something🥰” and George Luz would comment and be like “BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP WHERE RU”

Eugene wanted Babe to start eating healthier, so he took him to Trader Joe’s and made him buy a bunch of healthy snacks because in case you have forgotten, Babe is a literal baby. So Babe picks out a bunch of snacks but doesn’t realize it’s baby food, nor does Eugene. So Babe is casually munching on little yogurt bites and Guarno is like “Franny feeds that to our baby what the fuck” and Babe spits them out, mortified.

Floyd Talbert was apart of the dance team in middle. Like, he was the only guy on the team so it was insanely akwared. I can imagine him having a solo for “Womanizer” but getting kicked off the stage bc he started full on strip dancing in a glittery fedora in front of his prince pal. High school Floyd is an absolute nightmare.

Joe Liebgott eats Hershey Bars, Meat, and monster energy drinks only. No wonder he’s skinny. He’s such a picky eater, it’s horrible. Like he also loves weird food combos, like cheese and Oreos. Which is nasty.

Dick Winters LOVES Water Skiing. I’m not joking, it’s his favourite hobby. Catch your daddy Quaker in a pair of tight speedo shorts and Nixon’s aviators, gliding across the water.

HARRY!! How could I forget. I can see his man owning a bunch of cat’s and calling them “sweetie”, “honey”, “sugar”, and a bunch of cutesy names. All of the name’s were kitty’s idea. Speaking of Kitty, I can see her being a big girl, like height and weight. Harry worships her and calls her “my big beautiful Amazon” and Nixon thinks it’s weird BUT IT’S CUTE

Johnny Martin has a secret Twitter account that nobody is allowed to see. Instead of typing like a normal person, he smashes the keyboard. Nobody knows what he’s saying except for Bull. It’s very concerning.

For Halloween, the mortar trio have really strange costumes. One year, they were a rollercoaster. Other years they were the three musketeers, Alvin and the chipmunks, and the powderpuff girls. There costumes are genuinely terrifying to look at. Did I mention there the sexy versions as well? There worse costume was sexy rock, paper, and scissors. Mega yikes.

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch22 Cooking Cat Returns With Mustache Girl

(I headcannon Mustache Girl's actual name to be Muriel. )

You know. It feels a lot better sleeping on a bed than it was sleeping on a hard cold wooden floor. Also much better to wake up with having sore muscles for a second time. Slowly waking up, blue eyes peered out awake to the world, blinking away the blurry vision that came with it. Where was she again? The first thing she saw was the blue canopy of Hattie bed......And slowly she started to remember what happened last night. Groaning, the grown woman slowly sat up on the bed and reached a hand up to push the long messy hair out of her face. Vision slowly focusing and seeing the large pillow pile and diving board attached to the top of it, and the bookshelf with all those children books on it. Yawning, Poppy stretched out her back the Starella story book tumbling off her lap and onto the bed beside her, not that she noticed. She was a little busy smacking her lips and rubbing her face before standing up and sluggishly walking her way towards the tiny door. She was hungry and you know what, some apples in the morning didn't sound too bad anyways. As her ma would say, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Right? Well not quite. As she tired crawled(dragged) herself into the control room, the sweet smell of fried eggs and cheese filled the air and when she sniffed, Poppy found herself turning in the direction of the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of the food and she stood to her feet again. Mind blank as she tiredly trudged her way towards the ramp up to the kitchen area. Passing Rumbi who was happy to be back in the control room and not carried around room to room anymore cleaning. Up the ramp and past the big vault door, she could smell the food getting closer and closer until she pushed open the doors without a second thought.

"....Well, good morning to ya," a cheering slightly southern accent called out, "I was wondering when I would see you again."

The voice seemed to finally wake up Poppy as she blinked and turned her head in the direction of Cookie who smiled and was standing on a chair to reach the hot stove. Something was sizzling on the stove in front of her and that's what was making the delicious smell. The girls were there too, all dressed in the same outfits as yesterday but these ones were different colors. Same design and style, different color. Hattie was wearing a dark blue and white out fit and hat( dark blue being her shirt and pants, and white being anything else from her cape to hat), and Bow was wearing a similar dark blue and white attire(with her dress being dark blue and everything from her Bow to shoes were a white). The girls happily waved at her in between eating what looked like friend eggs into their mouths. A third short person was standing off in the corner of the room behind Cookie looking bored.

"Oh. Uh.....*YYYYAAAAWWNN* H-Hello again, Cookie." She proceeded to rub her face again. "W-What are you doing here?"

Cookie smiled turning back to the stove to flip the yellow almost cresent shaped egg. "Well, since the last episode of my cooking show for this season was finished, it means I get a few months to take a load off and prepare for the next season after the Annual Bird Movie Award Ceremony is over."

"Bird ....movie awards?"

Cookie nodded. "It happens once a year, but unfortunately since one of the three judges not awefully sick from bad bird seed they had to push it back a few months this year. Now the deadline is the week before Cupid's Day, that's why the theme for this year's contest was romance. Poor Mr. Grooves is having an awful time trying to find suitable actors for this fairytale romance theme he has going on. I would've volunteered myself, but I was really looking forward to some rest." She smiled shyly and pointed to herself. "And I wasn't exactly what he was looking for in the fair maiden role."

"I think you're beautiful Cookie!," Bow piped up, "The prettiest cat in the world!"

"And the best cook, too!," Hattie added.

Both making Cookie giggled and waving her paw, "Oh stop! Ya'll are making me blush worse than a kitten with a puppycrush."

"What are you cooking?," Poppy asked shuffling closer to them.

"Cheese omlets," Cookie replied happily. Reaching over and grabbing a plate laid next to her, she expertly flipped the omlet up and onto the plate in her paws with ease before turning to Poppy smiling and offering it out to her. "I hope ya'll don't mind me stoppin' by. I had nothing else today to really do, and I thought that I'd drop by and spend some more time visiting like I promised. And I wanted to see for myself if you were settling in today."

Poppy gladly took the plate from her stomach rumbling and mouth watering at the sight of it. "Uh. N-No. It's perfectly fine. In fact it's very kind of you to do so." Smiling she took the fork handed along with her and dug in......OH MY PECK!! Whatever a cheese omlet was it was SO delicious! Once again her cooking amazed her again. " SO GOOD!!"

Cookie ended up chuckling again turning off the stove. "I'm glad you think so, honestly it was only a few eggs and slicing a few pieces off that cheese wheel, the fridge is practically empty. Why didn't you go restock yet?"

Poppy stopped mid bite and looked at her for a moment staring. "Restocking?"

"Y'know. Shoppin'? All ladies like to shop, don't you?"

"Uh...Actually I don't think I could. I haven't exactly been paid by anyone yet so I don't really have much to buy any fancy things." She continued eating and eventually a movement to her right caught her attention, blue eyes looked down to meet gold ones as the two made eye contact and her brain quickly registered it to be another little girl in a red hood with her hair in two ponytails. Swallowing down some food, Poppy smiled at her. "Well hello there. I don't think I've met you yet. What's your name?"

"Mustache Girl!," the tiny girl proclaimed pointing a hand up, "Defeater of bad guys and savior of the world!"

"More like almost destroying it," Hattie shot back shooting her a dirty look witch this ...uh...'Mustache Girl' shot back with equal annoyance.

"Says the one who messed up by making it rain dangerous hourglasses everywhere!," the blonde yelled back pointing a finger, Hattie just stuck her tongue out at her.

The little girl continued to look slightly annoyed and Cookie reached behind her to pat the child's head. "This is Muriel. But we call her Mu for short." She gave a scary mom smile down to the children. "And we're not going to fight today are we?"

"No, Cookie!," all three girls agreed under the cat's gaze.

Poppy wasn't gonna lie, she was slightly scared and kinda impressed and this cat woman's skills to mother these three with ease within just a few seconds. And Mu huh? She giggled. It was pronounced the same way as 'Mew', like what a cat would say. And honestly it was kinda cute of her. Mu noticed the way Poppy was giggling and looking at her and frowned. Before shooting an accusing hand and face at her.

"And what are you laughing at?," she asked and Poppy noticed she also had some kind of accent. "Are you a bad guy too?!"

"MU!," Cookie scolded giving her a stern look and Mu instantly froze, eyes shooting sideways to the cat, "What did we talk about with minding your manners? Now you apologise to Ms. Bloomington this instant!" Her gaze turned apologetic to Poppy. "I am so sorry. It's hard for her to break old habits from Mafia Town, but I promise you she's a good girl."

"There's no need to apologize." Poppy smiled wider before kneeling down slowly to Mu's height. The little girl pulled her hand back to her and watched as Poppy stopped eye level smiling at her like Cookie would. "It sounds to me like you're a very brave little girl."

Mu paused for a moment. Looking Poppy up and down suspiciously as if trying to decide if she was serious or not about it, but took it as a compliment. Smiling proudly and puffing out her chest, pointing at herself. "Absolutely not wrong! I'm the bravest crime fighter in the world!"

Poppy chuckled again and sweetly nodded. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised if ya was. Such pretty eyes too. They look just like gold and honey."

"YEAH! That's exactly what I am!" She puffed up prouder at the strokes to her ego. "Gold and honey! The best gold and honey in the universe! Finally someone who gets it." Behind her Hattie rolled her eyes stuffing the last of her breakfast in her mouth, and Cookie seemed to be happy with the way the two stopped arguing finally.

Poppy chuckled again. "Well, it's really nice to meet you, Mu."

"Likewise, Bloom-in-Tons!"

"Call me,Poppy!" She smiled as she stood up to finish eating her food as she smiled. "Why don't you all go play?"

"Yes," Cookie agreed nudging Mu forward a little bit, "Why don't you all go and play with that pretty gold castle they showed us and be nice while the adults talk for a little bit?" The children were a little apprehensive at first but agreed to do so with Bow quickly stuffing the rest of her breakfast into her mouth and both her and Hattie tossing the dishes into the sink as one after another they ran to the doors with a few shouts of- 'I call being the Gold hero!' 'No you don't! I'm the best crime fighter!' "No you're not! I beat you remember!' 'Yes way!' 'No way!' 'Yes, Way!' and Bow following after the first two as they left. Cookie sighed shaking her head and grabbed the frying pan and spatula she had been cooking with hopping off the chair before looking up at Poppy. "I'm sorry for that. Those three may fight sometimes, but Hattie was quick to forgive everyone including her. They are friends I swear, but they argue worse than Conductor and Mr. Grooves at times....Mind being a dear and dragging over that chair there?"

"Hm. Oh! Sure." Plate in one hand, Poppy used the other to drag the chair across the room right behind Cookie to the sink following. "And it's quite alright. Kids will be kids after all, I don't blame them at all. Hmhm." She scooted the chair over where Cookie silently pointed and watched as the plump cat impressively jump onto it and faced the sink with the already dirty dishes in it. Going back to eat the other half of her breakfast as she watched Cookie roll up her sleeves more and turning on the sink. "Thank you for the..omlet by the way. I really appreciate it. "

She nodded not looking at her and instead turning on the hot water to the said sink. "Well it wasn't trouble at all. I was a little surprised you hadn't gotten up yet. Aren't you supposed to be the little dumplins' new babysitter or somethin'?"

Poppy sighed through her nose swallowing again. "Uh, well. Yeah that's my new job I guess. Being a maid and nanny to 'em. But to be honest with ya, I don't know the first thing about where ta go or even start with whole thing."

Cookie paused for a moment in her movements to look over at her...Yellow eyes roaming up and down eyeing the tacky dress on her and the messy bed head she had. "Well, by the way you look now ya'll are having some trouble settling in."

Poppy groaned allowing the cat to take away her now empty plate. "Tell me about it. With all the darn crazy things that's happened in the past few days I'm about ready to burst. And even if I knew where ta shop, I couldn't exactly pay for anything being broke."

Cookie looked at her confused. "Broke? But I thought all those gold do-dads were supposed to be your payment? The children seemed awefully proud to have them and Hattie said something about buying a whole bunch of things with some of it."

........OH!! THE GOLD!! OF COURSE!! She had completely forgotten about all of that in favor of being hungry and getting herself some food, but now that she remembered that didn't sound like a half bad idea to use it for food and some clothes that weren't so tacky.

"That doesn't sound like a half bad idea ya got there!...But. I'm not really sure where to use it. Haven't visited many places around here."

"Hm...I got an idea!" Cookie's smile widened at her. "Mu and I were just going around to do some errends after visitin'. Why don't ya'll come along and we'll make a girls trip outta it? It'll be fun to show someone around my favorite places! And I know just the place in Express City where you can trade gold for pons."

Poppy blinked. "W-Wha- N-No! I-It's fine. You're too kind really. We'll be just fine just how we are right now-"

"Nonsense," Cookie cut her off giving her a look. "Staying here all the time isn't going to magically put food in your fridge or nice clothes on your back. I insist. Besides, some time stretching your legs will be good for you."

Well. That didn't sound too bad to be honest. She could definately get a change of scenery besides haunted woods or an alien space ship, plus some actual soil under her feet sounded nice instead of floating in outer space. But Cookie wasn't exactly about to let her just waltz out with a bed head like hers. Luckily there was three little girls who gladly got very excited when they were asked by the cat to play 'make over' with Poppy, and by that she meant tidy up her hair. To say it hurt quite a bit with all the tangled built up ever since she crash landed in the swamp was an understatement. IT PECKING HURT!! Didn't help her hair was very long so it would take quite a while, in the meantime Cookie was nice enough to gather some of the gold objects they definately could put to better use. Of course both Bow and Hattie were very reluctant to let any of the buried treasure they found go, and once seeing all the gold Mu certainly was not willing to let 'any potential evil doers get their hands on it'. But they all came to a understanding with the stern gaze of the cat thrown at them. They would the girls each keep one, leave one or two pieces of gold for back up just in case of any emergency where they needed money, and the rest was coming along with them. They agreed reluctantly. No surprise Hattie chose the golden Roach King. Bow chose the castle as she enjoyed having it while playing her games. And Mu chose the cookie. Why?....She pouted and said because it reminded her of someone before shoving it into her cape's pocket with a huff. It was decided the golden skull would be the thing to be left behind and was hidden under Hattie's bed for safe keeping. Which left the golden gear, trophy, potion, pencil, Mafia Man, Cheese pieces, and candle would be all the things to go. But they all wouldn't be easy to carry as solid gold was a sure heavy thing. Luckily Poppy was just what they needed, who else to carry them but the strongest gal here? So into the pockets of her trusty leather apron they went. The weight was a bit much but she'd manage, like the light pain in her head right after the girls got done with her hair finally, leaving it in that signiture long braid and pretty blue bow tied at the end by Bow. She was ready! But the trip all the way down to the planet was another thing in of itself.

She was NOT about to risk free falling from space again, and these two weren't exactly known for their iron grip the last time. Cookie, being the genius cat she was suggested she just come along with them to Moon City to catch the next chip taxi down to the planet with them. Poppy hesitated at first, but she agreed afraid of falling from the sky again. Bow and Hattie coming out with umbrella's in their hands presumably going on their own to follow them all. Making sure they were all comfortable the cat lifted her sleeve again to reveal the same watch like device she had used the last time she was there and instructed Poppy to hold onto her paw now, as it would be a really quick trip there. She wasn't sure what to expect when she nervously grabbed Cookie's paw, but she did slam her eyelids shut when Cookie pressed the button on there. Before quickly grabbing Mu's hand with her other paw.

.....

........

"Uh..Ya'll can open your eyes now," came Cookie's voice.

Were they there already? Poppy's hand was released by Cookie and the human slowly opened her eyes. ....And what she saw both surprised and calmed her. Looking up the starry sky of outer space shown down at her live the time she free falled, but without the falling to the ground this time. The pretty stars shown brightly before those blue eyes blinked around at everything else. It was a CITY alright. A BIG ONE!....Well, she guessed any city would be big to her, as she's never really been IN a city before, the only one she's known to be in the city was her distant cousin who had a Fruit Stand somewhere in the Subonette City Marketplace. He'd sometimes tell them all the tall buildings that were so close together and the giant skyscrapers the rich fatcats lived in and their fancy carriages being pulled by giant beautiful black stallions. He always said the place was always too big and crowded for his liking but he didn't leave because the market always brought the best customers to his food. But she'd didn't think any city would be this.....Flashy. The tall buildings were decorated in massive lights and music blasted from everywhere and all kinds too. Rock, jazz, blues, techno remixes. You name it. It was almost enough to hurt her ears and her eyes. And all around them were...There was....PENGUINS!! Moon Penguins. They all didn't seem to mind or care that they just showed up in the middle of the town square and didn't care. Beeping was heard as a car zipped by them all and Poppy jumped staring at the weird mechanical beast that just went by. Gigantic signs were everywhere decorated with lights. One said 'Hats', another had a picture of a fedora and said 'Nuthin' Cooler', one Said 'Hats and Buy'. She giggled at one that read 'Penguin Suits Clothes Store'. There was even a giant glowing sign of piano keys with the words "Feelin' Lucky? Casino Hall'. It was...AMAZING!! Even if her senses were being attacked right now. But then she stopped to stare at the fountain they were standing right next to. It was in a giant shape of a music note and like most everything else, was bedazzled in lights as water poured from it.

"Are you alright?" Mu was giving her a strange look as the grown woman gawked at everything. "You look like you've never seen a fountain before."

"I've never been in any city before! Let alone on the moon!" Poppy smiled excitedly at the two of them. "This is amazing!"

Cookie chuckled and grabbed Mu by the hand gesturing for them to cross the street to the right.....Then proceeded to grab Poppy's hand to drag her along behind them as she still stood and gawked at everything but jumped at the tiny cat pulling her along across the street to the sidewalk. Another red car driving by them. As they walked Poppy noticed there was tiny bush plants in pots everywhere also covered in lights as they passed. These pengiuns really loved lights huh? Speaking of them she saw a lot of them. Moon penguins wearing suits, fedoras, and black sunglasses, they were all listening to music or talking to one another, or driving those big machines they were riding in. At one point she saw a lady penguin dressed in a pink outfit similar to the others, waddling around with a baby stroller with an egg carefully placed inside of it. She giggled at the sight of a tiny fedora on the egg as they passed, how peculiar- BAM!! Bright yellow light! Suddenly hitting her straight in the face. Poppy had to slam her eyes shut again at the sudden bright yellow flashing on them, only being guided by Cookie still holding her hand but Poppy did blink her eyes open and look up to where the light was radiating from when she felt cookie tug her in a different direction before stopping. While she got her hand back, Poppy held it up above her as her eyes adjusted and she was finally able to make out the blinding light up above. There was three gigantic blinding signs on top of the biggest building she's ever seen. Two were saxophones and one in between them were bright yellow letters saying GROOVES.

"That's Mr. Grooves moon studio," Cookie explained noticing her staring up at the signs. "He built it right by the entrance to the metro so he can just waltz on in and start workin' if he decides to shoot on the moon for what ever reason." Her yellow eyes also squinted up at the sky above and pointed up to two little stars floating down from the sky. "And here come the little darlins' now. I told them to meet us as soon as possible at the metro here before we go down to Express Town."

"Express ....Town?"

"It's the first town before you get to Express Owl City. Millions of birds ...mostly owls, live there. But Express town is big enough to have everything we need, and to be honest I'm not a fan of cities. I've gotten used to a small town life as it was."

Poppy continued to gawk at the bright lights, slightly impressed by it all...but then slowly shifted over to two little things floating down from the sky towards them, it was hard at first to see them thanks to the blinding yellow light from the sign but eventually she was  able to see the forms of Hattie and Bow floating down towards them. Hattie was holding onto her hat with one hand and smiled down at the three girls below when she noticed they were staring at the three of them.

"I'M MARY PENGUINS YA'LL!!," she called down from the floating umbrella waving her hat.

Mu huffed crossing her arms. "Show offs."

Poppy chuckled at it all and watched with a smile as the two girls gently floated down closer and closer, until they were right in front of them.  Standing on the ground smiling and putting away those magic umbrellas into...Well magic thin air she guessed and smiled up at them all.

"Are we late?"

Cookie shook her head, and gestured to the stairs leading down into the ground, turning as she did and starting to walk down said stairs. "Not at all, Sugarplum. Come along now everyone. The evening train's 'bout ta leave any minute now. And we don't want to miss that now do we?"

Shaking her head no, Hattie followed right behind her with Bow and After rolling her eyes, so did Mu. Poppy slowly followed after them down the stairs, but surprisingly she wasn't greeted in darkness. Instead she was met with a secret underground tunnel of concrete under the city and ....HOLY COW!! A train! There was a train smack dab right in the middle of the room, a few penguins climbing onto it or off it as the many doors on the long thing was open. Thank goodness it wasn't as flashy as the city outside as she looked around in wonder. The place was still pretty big even for small penguins, about five or six houses wide and height if you asked her. There was one penguin who wore the same thing as the other penguins only had on a conductor's hat and a small mic in his flipper, Poppy watched from the bottom of the stairs as this penguin looked at a watch on his other flipper before bringing the mic back up to his mou- ...Uh...Beak.

"Attention passengers." His voice boomed through a speaker above them all. "The Evening Train to the planet below will leave in exactly thirty two seconds. Those boarding please have your luggage in hand and board immediately. Last call for the evening train. That is all."

"Oh, that's our ride. C'mon ya'll. Don't want to be late now."

Cookie hurried the three little girls in front of her towards the nearest open doors on the trains, Poppy trailing behind. Passing penguins going in or out of the tram Poppy gazed up at it as she stepped in. She had to lean other a bit to not hit her head on the ceiling. The weight of the gold in her heavy duty leather apron making her lean more from the weight of it. It had white painted walls with poles and handles on the ceiling to hang onto along with benches the perfect size for Poppy and the girls to sit in. Poppy being obviously taller ended up taking up a seat and a half next to them, but there wasn't many penguins on board so she had plenty of room to herself without having to worry about taking up space for anyone else.

"Last chance of boarding. I repeat last chance,'' the Conductor Penguin's voice sounded out. Poppy glanced over at the doors as they all closed with a loud click ceiling them as the girls and Cookie all sat on either side of her. But gave a small yelp when the train lurched wobbling everyone in it and slowly started to pull forward, Poppy glancing out the window behind them and seeing the station move as the train started taking off. "We are now leaving Moon City Metro. Please remain your seats and enjoy the ride. Thank you for choosing PenCo Express Services for your space travels."

As they picked up speed, Poppy kept staring out the window and her eyes widen seeing the out side of outer space and suddenly the sight of the moon after a few seconds, it was silver and round like a moon would look like but a good CHUNK (like half of it) was alive with lights bright enough to be seen from her spot on the running train. The lights making the buildings look shadowy, it was kinda pretty in a monochrome way. As she turned her head in the opposite direction to look forward, the planet from what she could see from it was getting closer and closer. Well.....Here she goes.

[lenawin4]

an offer you can’t refuse

HOW WE DOIN ELLICK FANS?

I had this fic in my drafts halfway done, but after I watched that promo, I finished it in like, two hours. hope y’all enjoy. (also, may or may not contribute to the wave of 18x05/18x06 speculation fics. EXCITED)

summary: 

“It’ll be fun,” Nick said on Day Four, then looked at them incredulously. “What? You’ve never taken down the mafia before?” ft. the whole gang, some blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions of Tiva, and prank wars.

Or: Nick’s jealous, Ellie’s clueless, and the team dismantles a crime family.

rating: gen, k+

length: 3.4k

genres: fluff, minor angst, romance

read on ffn | ao3

So Ellie’s in her corner of the bullpen, and Nick can’t stop looking at her. That’s how it all starts.

She’s wearing one of her cashmere sweaters, and they’ve been working this case for so long that her outfit is three days old. The bags under her eyes can’t be hidden by makeup and the curls in her hair have started to flatten. She has that crease in between her eyebrows that warns him not to bother her with a stupid joke, but that’s never stopped him before.

Ellie’s phone rings, so he freezes in the middle of sauntering over to her, halfway through the bullpen. It’s magic: her eyes widen slightly; the crease disappears; a slow smile spreads, then a grin.

The corners of his mouth start to slip upward, but he fights it down because McGee is at his desk. He’s talking to the local PDs, spelling out one of the long Italian names they’re trying to pin on something, and Tim is eyeing him like a hawk.

“Mark?” Ellie shouts into the phone. 

Who?

“Gimme a sec,” Ellie points to her phone and mouths, I have to take this, sorry, and Nick is left gaping at the back of her head as she runs to the break room.

-

That happens on Day Six. A recap:

Dead sailor in a drive-by shooting in Bethesda. Grab your gear.

There was cocaine underneath the bed and piles of cash in the closet in the sailor’s apartment.

McGee traced a bank account in the Caymans to a Joey DiGiorno, as in, It’s-not-delivery-it’s-DiGiorno’s.

“Do you think he has a cousin named Domino’s?” Ellie asked; and —

For the fifth time this month, Nick realizes that he’s in love with Ellie Bishop.

Joey does not have a cousin, but he does have a criminal record and an uncle who happens to be the DC/Virginia/Maryland leader of the DiGiorno Family. 

“Wow, two states and the capital city,” said McGee. “Impressive.”

On top of Nick’s To Do List - Get Gibbs everything on this guy: records, cars, girlfriends, other nieces and nephews, etc., etc.

“It’ll be fun,” Nick said on Day Four, then looked at them incredulously. “What? You've never taken down the mafia before?”

-

McGee follows the money to a nightclub in DC (“Do they serve pizza?”; “Nick, please.”), but there’s no way to know when or how the drugs are smuggled into the building, which can only mean one thing: stakeout time.

Stakeouts are the worst. Stakeouts mean unlimited time in a confined place with nothing better to do, the uncomfortable silence of Nick and his thoughts and the little place in his head that teeters between sixteen different names and a glass jar of lake water that hides on the shelf of his apartment.

Right now, a stakeout is the best thing that could ever happen to him.

So, Mark. He can’t exactly Boyle his way into this, not after Bishop nearly chewed his head off because he cancelled her date. 

It’s not helping that Bishop keeps smiling at her phone every two hours, and semi-aggressively types out a text in all caps and extra exclamation marks. (He watches the way her fingers move. He knows those are exclamation marks. Like, at least ten of them.)

“Didn’t know dates liked it when you yelled at them all the time.”

“What?” Ellie says, not looking up from her phone.

He puts his feet up on the desk a little too harshly. Ellie wrinkles her nose.

“What could possibly be more important than this very, very interesting stakeout right now? Don’t you see there’s a hooker in front of the club and it’s barely noon? We should report it to Gibbs.”

There’s that sarcastic laugh that’s reserved for him, a quip about not being able to afford her, then back to the invisible Mark he’s heard nothing about.

-

To: ninja lady, 11:59

hey on a stakeout w El. what should i do

To: big wuss, 12:05

prank war. worked for us.

To: ninja lady, 12:06

i’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not

-

He tells her he’s buying fast food and chips a few blocks away. He asks the cashier for an extra paper bag and places a spring-loaded glitter bomb from the Dollar Tree at the bottom.

-

To: ninja lady, 14:05

success

To: big wuss, 14:07

ha! watch your six. revenge is tasty, no?

To: ninja lady, 14:09

i think you mean vengeance is sweet, but check with your husband

-

Nick returns from a bathroom break and peers left and right. Nothing in the room has changed: Ellie is still finishing the bag of fries. Her head is turned towards the window, and she’s glancing at her phone every few seconds. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he sort of doesn’t care. His chair hasn’t moved from the computer desk, and there are no booby traps outside the bathroom door or in the hallway.

Okay. The coast is clear.

“Hey, maybe you should check your face one more time, I think you still have glitter — ”

Splat.

His chair explodes in a tidal wave of green and red paint, splattering all over his jeans — gross, it feels so cold — and his leather jacket. 

When he looks up, Ellie’s beaming at him from behind her phone, fry stuck in her mouth like a cigarette, green paint smeared across her cheek like evidence. Mercilessly, she sends the video to McGee, Kasie, and Tony.

-

To: big wuss, 17:25

I’m disappointed.

To: ninja lady, 17:29

yeah, yeah, laugh all you want

this sucks

To: big wuss, 17:30

Not just the stakeout, I presume?

To: ninja lady, 17:32

who the hell is Mark

she keeps texting him

it’s distracting me

To: ninja lady, 17:35

you know, from work

To: big wuss, 17:40

Oh, Nicholas.

-

(Across the Atlantic, in a small apartment in Paris, a married couple compares recent messages.

Ziva clicks her tongue. “I think he might be a bigger wuss than you, Tony.”

“I had better pranks than this guy, okay, at least give me that.”)

-

There’s a crowd of seamen lounging around the club. Their voices send pinpricks into his brain, and he can smell the alcohol from the second floor of this building. The bouts of laughter and shouts are interrupted by crunching. Next to him, the foul smell of artificial cheese surrounds Eleanor Bishop. Her fingers are coated with orange dust. Her eyes are laser-focused on the group of men, arms around each other, starting to sing the first bars of “Piano Man”. She licks her lips, and a bit of orange dust is left over at the edge of her mouth. She brings her fingers to her lips to lick them clean.

Nick’s mouth is suddenly dry.

Okay, okay, he needs to focus. Focus. It’ll be easy.

When he finally turns away, the hooker is grabbing one of the men by his tie, who tries to pull away. He rolls his eyes, but before Nick can say, “Playing hard to get, are we?”, the sailor is handing her a thick wad of cash. It’s exchanged for something thickly wrapped in saran plastic wrap, and he jolts out of his seat.

“It was the hooker!”

-

Nick did not know running that quickly in high heels was possible.

-

Ellie’s phone dings three times past his limit on the way to the interrogation room. The sound grates against his ears and his eyes can’t roll further up his socket. She doesn’t even notice.

They’re behind the glass, waiting for McGee to question her, when Gibbs walks in. He takes one look at the green paint on Ellie’s cheek and sees the same paint on Nick’s jeans.

Before Ellie can try to explain, Nick announces, “Gibbs, I told Ellie to call you about the hooker hours ago and she didn’t listen to me!”

“That is not true!”

“Yes, it is!”

-

“Wait, so we’re just going to give up?” Ellie’s hair is still slightly frazzled from tackling the suspect down, strands loose on her forehead and around her ears. She ran up and down four flights of stairs to catch her, but they’ve been given an order to push the case to another day with another lead. “What about Sugar Honey?”

“We can’t catch anyone higher up the food chain if she doesn’t consent to wearing a wire.”

“So sneak one on her!” The Director raises his eyebrows.

“Bishop.” She snaps around, eagerly awaiting Gibbs’s cowboy orders. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

“What? I can’t believe you’re actually agreeing with this.”

“Ellie,” Nick says, coming to her supposed rescue. There’s a flicker of hope in her eyes, and he hesitates to kill it. But he has to. He stands up, and immediately yelps and whines. Guiltily, he savors the look of concern she gives him. “Actually, could you drive me home? I think I twisted my ankle when we were chasing down Sugar Honey.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ellie pouts. It maybe makes his stomach flutter, which is stupid, because Nick doesn’t feel things like that.

“You know me. Stoic face and all. I could get stabbed and none of you would know.”

“You know, that’s not a good thing.” She grabs his car keys from his jacket and puts his arm around her shoulders.

Bishop throws a stern look to the Director and Gibbs. Their bosses look half-confused, half-amused; Nick avoids Gibbs’s knowing look. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She walks him to his car. He feels warm and lonely all at once, because her phone rings two more times.

Nick plops down on the passenger seat, and Ellie wrenches the car into ignition, and says with no small amount of strife, “I know you’re lying and I’m either taking you to your apartment or back to the club. Your choice.”

Um. “Hey, let’s not do anything dangerously impulsive here.”

“Me? Impulsive? What about you?”

“What? When have I ever done anything dangerous or impulsive?”

“You stole a truck and totaled it when you were chasing down a suspect last month. Gibbs was already waiting on another block to cut him off.”

“Well, at least I didn’t get hurt.”

“You had a concussion and I had to wake you up every hour that night.”

They’re already out of the Navy Yard, almost ten over the speed limit, and going in the opposite direction of his apartment.

“Okay, I’m sorry I lied about my ankle. But Bishop.” He’s not sure how to say it, so what leaves his mouth is a sound of frustration. “You can’t dismantle the mafia with just this one case. These things take time. One Sugar Honey confession was the best we could do today. And that’s okay. But we’ll catch another one tomorrow, or maybe next week, and the week after that.”

The car slows down; Ellie’s pout becomes more pronounced. The sudden U-turn makes him clutch at the dashboard and pray for his life.

“Fine,” Ellie says. “But — ”

“Tomorrow, I will help you possibly arrest a drug dealer, that will lead us to the drug supplier, that will lead us to the boss.”

She nods, hands tightly holding the steering wheel. There’s glitter in her hair and streaks of paint on her jeans. They’ve barely slept in the past two days, driving each other insane. 

“I can take the couch for a few hours and then we’ll be on our way. We both need to rest.”

Ellie doesn’t reply.

“If you don’t crash at my place, I’ll call Gibbs and tell him you’re going back to the club.”

Ellie protests for the rest of the car ride, but Nick doesn’t budge an inch.

-

The stakeout resumes peacefully. Gibbs and Vance were right: the dealers are spooked and no deals occur for the next week.

Bishop doesn’t spend every single moment on her phone, so at least there’s that. He can’t deny the twinge of longing every time he sees her eyes brighten at the sound of another text.

Still, even that is nothing compared to the ache he feels when she yawns and rubs her eyes. It’s the type of case that makes her want to prove herself, to risk everything to accomplish her ambitions, to run after something without a thought of the consequences. He knows the feeling. He has that feeling every time a kid is involved.

So he triples the bags of junk food on the floor of the moldy apartment. He lets her rest a little more when it’s his watch. She curls up in the blanket she stole from his apartment and sighs in her sleep.

They’re both exhausted, so their prank war grinds to a halt. Nick’s exasperated, and he doesn’t reply to any of Ziva’s requests for updates. Ellie’s smile is something admirably distracting and infuriating, especially when it’s not directed to him.

-

Here’s the thing, though: Nick can’t imagine when Ellie had time to go on a date with a Mark that he’s never met or heard of in the past few weeks. Before Operation Take DiGiorno’s to Prison, they had back-to-back murders that took a total of two weeks out of their lives. Before those, Nick went to pilates with her for three consecutive weekends. So whoever this Mark is, might be special to her. Someone she wants to keep to herself. Someone she wants to talk to all day, someone she wants to smile and laugh with, someone she wants to be with. It’s that simple.

It’s just not Nick.

-

The seaman in Interrogation still isn’t talking, but at least there’s something in the cocaine.

“Local PD’s been digging up everything they can about the drug ring for months, and this little sample here matches their signature packaging and purity. But I’m telling you, whoever hired their chemists needs to do a better job, cause this stuff ain’t pure at all.”

“Can we connect it to Joey or the uncle?”

“I’m so glad you asked. We, in fact, do have a way to arrest them, thanks to Kasie — ”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person.”

“Okay, someone’s grumpy! DiGiorno’s olive oil company bought bulk chemicals, which are being delivered to this address. We’ve got dimethyl sulfoxide, tetrahydrofuran — ”

“English, Kasie.”

“Coke. They’re making coke. Trust me, those materials are not extra virgin.”

He grunts out a thanks and swirls around, ready to leave.

“Woooaaahhh there, son.” Kasie holds her hands out in front of her to tame him. “What’s going on with you, Nicholas?”

“What? Nothing!”

“Okay. Then I guess it has nothing to do with you and your feelings.”

“What? Nothing’s up with Bishop and me!”

“I didn’t say anything about Bishop.”

“Okay,” Nick chuckles, searching for an exit route that may or may not involve rolling past Kasie in a very ninja-like manner before booking it out of the building. “You said something, I said something, now we’re both confused, and I gotta go now, bye!”

-

McGee’s hawk eyes peer at him when Bishop retreats to the break room again. It makes Nick squirm in his seat and try to pry his gaze away from her empty desk.

“Is something going on between you and Bishop?”

“Uh, no, why, did she say something?” He crosses his arms to quell the sound of his heart.

McGee scoffs. “I mean. You guys have barely talked since you came back from the stakeout.”

“Well. I don’t need to talk to her. All the time.”

“But you do.”

Nick makes a face. Bishop strolls back into the bullpen, carefree and light, and he shuts his mouth.

“What do we got?” Gibbs says, and McGee has no choice but to brush this under the rug.

-

It’s Day Ten, more accurately Night Ten, and they’re sitting in the car, driving to the warehouse where they’ll arrest Joey and his uncle. She’s wearing a vest and he has the urge to clean his gun before a shootout. But they’ll be fine.

He glances at her tied-up hair and the clench of her jaw. His hands tighten on the steering wheel, because he wants to hold her face in his hands and tangle his fingers in her hair. He wants to tell her something he can barely admit to himself.

She says nothing. The phone doesn’t ring. He keeps driving.

-

He forgets she has a vest on. He forgets everything, really, when he sees Ellie go down in the middle of the raid, and Joey starts running away. Gibbs yells at him to call an ambulance before he and McGee chase after the idiot who shot his partner.

Nick scrambles to her side, vision blurring, and he has more trouble breathing than she does when he reaches her. “Bishop, El, you’re gonna be okay, alright?”

Ellie groans as he slices her vest open. The bullet clatters off the Kevlar.

“Nick,” Ellie’s saying. “Nick, I’m fine.” His hands hover, barely brushing over her arms, neck, head — I have to check for concussion — and it does nothing to reassure him, until her hands fold into his. “Nick.”

She looks at him, mouth parted, cheeks flushed. Her ribs are probably bruised, if not broken. Her hands are the only source of stability; every other part of him is shaking.

“You’re alright.”

Ellie breathes out a heavy sigh; it shakes like his legs quiver, and he has to kneel next to her. “I’m alright.”

-

Along with the DEA, they confiscate every last bit of cocaine from the warehouse, effectively crippling the crime family’s major source of money. Joey rats on every aspect of his uncle’s business for a shorter sentence. As the EMTs are wrapping her ribs up, Nick holds his hand up for Ellie to slap and says, “We took DiGiorno’s to prison!”

He offers her his arm and a ride home. She graciously accepts, and the smile is his, again, for now.

But he can’t not say anything now. She almost — she almost. There’s nothing else to say about that.

So Nick says, “So, you’re going home to Mark today? You got a hot date?”

He’ll get over that lump in his throat, that spike in his pulse eventually. She’s alive, and he’ll be fine.

He doesn’t expect her to start laughing, only to be interrupted by a wince and a tender hand on her left side. “Nick, who do you think Mark is?”

“Uh.” There’s a dark hole of miscalculation, the feeling of falling down the cliff of Being Wrong. “Your hot new date you kept texting over the past, like, five days?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Stop laughing, you’ll make your ribs worse.”

“It’s — ” Ellie takes a deep breath and pulls out her phone. She scrolls, and Nick’s about to say something about not wanting to read her love letters to Mark when:

Auntie Ellie, thanks for my birthday gifts! I miss you so much.

The voice can’t be older than five, with a light stammer and a lisp. Nick takes his eyes off the road to gape at a boy with two missing front teeth, and his heart both soars and sinks. Someone honks behind them, and he steps on the gas pedal, startled that he’s stopped at a green light.

“Well.”

“He turned four last week, and my brother’s been letting him call or text me videos every day. They’re stuck in Oklahoma and they miss me.” He can hear her shrug, the fabric of her jacket rustling against the car’s leather seat, but he keeps his eyes on the road. “I haven’t been home in almost two years.”

“I’m sorry.” It punctuates the silence that follows, leaving them both speechless, wondering, wishing.

“Were you jealous?” Ellie whispers.

“Yes.” He can’t stop himself. Not anymore. Nick floors the brake and looks at his passenger’s seat, red light shining on her, everything else dark and unimaginably lonely. “Yes.”

Ellie nods, then smiles. “Okay.”

-

They arrive the next morning together. McGee smirks at his phone. Kasie’s eyes switch between them, back and forth, before she raises an eyebrow and glares at Nick, threatening and protective. Gibbs says nothing. Nick smiles the whole morning, because he still tastes her lipstick on his teeth and feels her hair in his fingers.

-

To: big wuss, 10:20

Congratulations. You aren’t a bigger wuss than Tony.

To: ninja lady, 10:25

ha. thanks

for everything, i mean, i guess.

To: big wuss, 10:26

You’re very welcome, Nicholas.

fin.

[kertneyk]

Cute Delivery Boys

When you finally make it home, you are exhausted.  Another long day, the paperwork for the academy took ages.  Then you had to talk to everyone who had the monster route ahead of you and get the lowdown and map it out.  Then the chief had you running all sorts of other in-office errands.  Just because he knew you hated it.  But the worst part of it was, you didn’t get to eat properly.  You looked at the clock. 7:00.   It wasn’t too late to make something, but you didn’t have any meat thawed out.  And with as hungry as you were, you needed to induldge your carnivorous side tonight.  Which would mean a trip to the store.

Or you could order in.  You went to your wallet and took out the coupons Muffet gave you.  One was buy one get one coupons for a burger and fry combo, the other was a free meal, delivery fee included; just pay tip. You look in your wallet folds, you had enough a good sized tip. And Chief Johnson did give you the weekend to integrate yourself in the monster community.  What better way than by spending money?  You try to talk yourself into the extravagence, you were supposed to be on a ramen diet afterall.  But it isn’t nearly as difficult as you pretended it was.  You are already pulling out your phone and dialing the phone number.  

You really were not great with money.  

You go down to the hallway closet and start pulling out some boxes while the phone rings.  A very bored sounding man answers.

“This is Grillbys.  Wha’ya want?”  Ok....

“Um, you do delivery right?”

“Ya.”

“Ok, uh.”  You think about what you actually want for a moment.  “Triple cheese burger, extra onions, no mustard and a large order of chili fries. And load those babies up with cheese.”

“Tha it?”

“Yeah, I got a coupon for a free meal.  You want me to read the code off the back, or just give it to the driver?”

“Read the code.”  You read off your numbers.

“Ok, that’s it.”

“Sure. The address?” You rattle off your address for the guy.

“Oh! I’ll need to buzz the delivery guy in, but intercom is busted, so you’ll need to give them my number.”

“You gonna to be one of those pain’n tha ass people ar’ncha?”  You laugh at his boldness.  You really weren’t trying to make his night difficult.  

“Not trying to I swear!  But since you are gonna call me out like that, I better live up to it. Make sure to send your cutest delivery boy.  Only cute guys get my number.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.”  He chuckles and you hear the line click.  You shake your head.  Yeah, monsters were going to give you a hard time starting Monday.  Until then, might as well enjoy it.  You wonder mildly if they were really going to send a cute monster to you.  And if so, would you find them cute?  Do monsters have a standard of beauty comparable to humans?  Guess you’ll find out.  You go grab a shower and change into some comfier clothes.  Going for a pair of shorts and tank top.  You then gather up your boxes and take them to the living room.

your cell phone starts ringing.  You smirk when you see the unknown number.  Must be your cute delivery boy!

“Yello, this is y/n.”

“Yah, got’a delivery from Grillbys fer ya.”  You are surprised by how deep the voice is on the line.  You said cute delivery boy, not ‘biker gang, don’t bring him home to meet your mama’ delivery boy.  Oh well, you buzz him in.

“K, I buzzed you. See you in a sec.” Click.  When you hear him finally knock on your door, you grab your wallet.  You only had a twenty in there, but that was fine.  It was a little excessive for a delivery tip on a burger and some fries, but since monsters couldn’t drive yet he probably had to take the bus.  That would have sucked.  

What greeted you when you opened your door was defintely not what you were expecting.  

The monster in front of you was short.  Like shorter than you short.  He stood at about 4’6”.  He was a skeleton, like GTP; but that was where the similarities stopped.  Besides being short, the guy had a row of sharp, shark-like teeth with a golden fang on one side.  His dark eye sockets glowed with the light of two pin pricks of red that made up his pupils.  His head was round where GTP’s what more square and sharp.  And the guy liked his red.  His coat, a fur-lined hooded thing was black and red, he wore a red turtle-neck and his shorts were black with a single red stripe down the side.  

The thing you noticed most about the delivery boy, however, had little to do with his appearance.  His magic was blinding in its power.  Out of all the monsters you’d met so far, this guy was easily the strongest!  

Your shock must have shown on your face because he coughed to get your attention.  

“see sometin ya like sweetheart?” His flirt was half-hearted and obviously not meant.  In fact, he seemed almost disgusted with himself for even attempting it.  

Ok, he was pretty cute.  

“Heh, well yeah. I said ‘cute delivery boy.’ Glad to see Grillby is a man of his word.”  You wink at him and watch his face erupt in a crimson blush. Blushing bones are totally a thing you guess.  Two out of two skeletons can do it.  

“W-wha! Wha ta fuck is wrong witcha? Don’t fuckin say shit like that.” He growls at you and shoves a bag between you two.  “Here, take yer fuckin food so I can go.”  

“But what if I don’t want you to go?  Not every day a handsome stranger knocks on my door.” You say as you dodge the bag.  

“Not my problem yer an ugly human.  Can’t even attract yer own kind.” He tries again, and again you manage to not take it.  

“Dude, that’s so harsh!” You clutch at your heart, “You gotta be nicer to ladies. We are delicate.”

“Yer a pain in the ass is whatcha are.  Take yer damn food.”  He growls at you, getting extremely frustrated.  

“Not until you go back to calling me sweetheart.  You’re really hurting my ego.”

“I don’t give a shit, sweetheart.” The word dripping in sarcasm.  Obviously, he finds you less than sweet. He finally manages to shove the bag into your hand.  

“Alright, alright.  You win.” You chuckle a bit and he relaxes, seeing an end to his ordeal. “Here, hold this so I can get your tip.”  You wave your wallet and hand the bag back to him.  It takes him a second before he realizes what just happened.

“Fuck!”  You cackle, picking on poor delivery boys should be beneath you.  But no one ever said you were a mature adult.

“Oh come on, don’t be sore.  That was good.  And I really did need an extra hand to take out the cash.”  You laugh some and take the bag, handing over the twenty after.  You notice in his other hand he has another bag.  Must be his next stop.  His face is still red as he shoves the bill in his coat pocket and stomps off. You lean out your door and wave goodbye to his back.

“Farewell oh adorable stranger.  May our paths cross again!”  He flips you off then vanishes down the stairs.  He was cute.  But really rude.  And definitely a more accurate representation of the troubles you will be having interacting with monsters in the future.  Of course, he might have been more receptive to your charms if you hadn’t looked at him like that.  He was probably sick of people looking at him like a sideshow attraction.  You decide that if you ever see him again, you would definitely be nicer.  And look at him less.  

Sans POV

Oh Sans was going to let Grillby have it next time he went in!  Who sends Sans the Skeleton to play delivery boy with a fuckin pervert human?  Cute! She said he was cute!  Lying shit bag human!  Skeletons weren’t fuckin cute.  

And so fucking bold too!  Most people avert their eyes when they are caught staring at him.  Oh no! Not this bitch.  When he called you out, he just made it worse! He fumes as he thinks about it.  

He takes the turn around your apartment building and then shortcuts back home.  He kicks his shoes off in the entryway and slams the bag on the table.  

He should have known Grillby was up to no good when he brought Sans a bag of free food.  He had been nursing a bottle of mustard, unable to afford his usual tonight.  Boss had cracked down on what money Sans was allowed to carry, and Grillz had closed out his tab when they all came up to the surface.  So when Grillz said all Sans had to do was deliver a burger to a dumb human, and he would even get to keep the tip, Sans said sure.  It was just one human.  Well, never again.  He was never do any more shitty fucking deliveries for shitty fucking humans.  He is interupted from his thoughts by his phone.  That was odd, Boss was havin another cooking competition at Undyne’s.  Hopefully they weren’t asking him to come and judge.  He shudders as he checks the message.  

Unknown: Hey, this is the girl you just delivered to.  I was rude, sorry.  

BZZT

Unknown: Question though?  Did I insult your boss when I ordered my burger no mustard?  Cause.... it looks like I did.

BZZT

Unknown: Seriously, it looks like I have a hit out on me from a mustard loving monster mafia.

The next text is a picture of his regular.  A burger and fries, everything absolutely covered in mustard.  Shit! He grabs the bag on the table and rips it open.  The fries in this bag coated in chili and cheese.  He gave her the wrong bag! Tch, not his problem.  He could always scrap off the chili and he has mustard here he could put on his own burger.  

BZZT

Unknown: It’s everywhere! Oh god, the poor burger, it’s bleeding mustard.

BZZT

Unknown: This is downright disrespectful.

Another picture of the burger, but with a little handwritten RIP sign held above it.  He can’t help but snicker a little.  

Sans: wrong bag. deal with it

BZZT

Unknown: Oh good, you can get texts.  I was worried for a second that I was texting the void.

BZZT

Unknown: I did see you had another bag in your hand.  Could I meet you somewhere to swap?  I was really excited about the chili on my fries.

Sans: no learn 2 like mustard

BZZT

Unknown: Dude, that is cold.  

BZZT

Unknown: Cold like the corpse of this mustard burger.  Is it even a burger?  All I see is mustard.

BZZT

Unknown: Please save me from condiment hell!  

Sans: why should i

BZZT

Unknown: Besides the fact that you would be helping a beautiful stranger?

BZZT

Unknown: Kidding! Don’t answer that.  My ego probably couldn’t take whatever terrible response you were writing.

BZZT

Unknown: I am officially out of cash now, but I would owe you one.  I really don’t want to have to call  back to the restaruant.  

Sans palms his face, sighing loudly.  It wouldn’t take much to go back and exchange the bags.  And Grillby would probably charge him for the burger if he had to make another. He reads the last message again, smirking as he does.  You said you would ‘owe him one’ it would be nice to have a human owe him something for a change.  Make you do something embarrassing.  Or maybe just make you go to Grillbys yourself.  See how you like it when everyone stares at you.

Sans: fine. U owe me. ur place couple min

BZZT

Unknown: YAS! I shall await your return!

[elichorph]

OH SHIT???? did you see avery jeong buying princess bandaids at the local cvs after punching out somebody’s car window??? anyways, he’s a legacy and a member of the yale's elite, they're twenty-three and a 1st year grad student majoring in mechanical engineering. they are as strong willed as they are naive.

hello, i am back with my third character. yes this is my second character that has a 5 letter name that starts with an a. yes this intro is extremely long. if you read it i will send you a gif of your fav celeb to thank you.

stats:

full name: avery tobias jeong nicknames: ave age: twenty three birthday: march 8, 1998 ( yeah he’s technically 22 right now but he’ll be 23 soon enough ) chart: pisces sun, aries moon, cancer rising siblings: one ( lilia, younger sister ) gender: cis male pronouns: he / him sexuality: bisexual & biromantic height: 6′0 hair color: black tattoos: random tattoos on his arms, faded hand tattoos (specifically an angel on his left hand) piercings: right earlobe ring

blackmail:

( violence & drugs tw )

he had an unplanned child at nineteen with his ex-girlfriend who he now has little to no contact with. his ex dug up a public intoxication charge that avery’s family had paid to cover up in order to place a restraining order on him and deny him custody of the child.

he was involved in an underground fighting ring for multiple years as a means to make money after being cut off by his family. however, he always took fights too far and was banned from the ring in new haven after he nearly killed one of his opponents.

family:

if you’ve already read lilia’s intro then you can skip this because it’s the same thing!

ya’ll ever read one of those drug ring ao3 fanfics where y/n is dating the sexy drug cartel leader? well that’s their family!

generational family blood money because that’s how cartels work i think. started running + dealing three generations back with their great-grandparents in order for them to make a living. it wasn’t until the so-called business was handed down to their grandparents that they wanted to expand and generate more money. the big pharma cover was created in order for them to manufacture, distribute, and supply at a larger scale. present day, their family name has notoriety with other cartel and mafia families. 

basically avery was supposed to take over because he was the oldest right, but lilia did not want that at all. their parents started favoring avery and schmoozing up to him a little bit to get him to say yes (even though avery was fully prepared to give lilia the position) and lilia was like! what the fuck! so she told their parents about this one time that avery accidentally blabbed the family secret to a stranger at a party which broke their one rule of keeping it a secret. their parents wanted nothing to do with him anymore and completely cut avery off and kicked him out of the family. 

everyone knows that avery and lilia are siblings, even though they don’t really know the actual details about their past together because avery doesn’t say anything about his family and the cartel is a secret. now that they are both at yale and in the elites together they are just kinda like haha awkward <3 they basically would just tell everyone that they grew apart if other characters tried to pry but also lilia is now telling people that avery fucked up a business decision which is why he left the family and avery is like alright but good luck trying to get other info out of them! xo, the jeongs

present:

after being kicked out of his family, avery booked it to new haven to attend yale. he was able to score a full ride after graduating as the valedictorian of a specialized school for science in nyc and for continuously staying near if not at the top of his class. literally this man is a casual genius. he will get drunk as hell and talk about math for the entire night even if you don’t care. avery joined the elites in his junior year and even though he technically is a legacy from his family, he told them that if he was going to join, he wanted to be recruited for his academics because fuck if he was going to use his family name!

to expand a little more on blackmails, avery was broke as shit after coming to new haven. he still is, but he literally had so little money to his name and eventually found an underground fighting ring and made money by winning matches through that because he is Beefy and a Unit and his anger issues could be released <3 but he would always go a little too hard and would near murk his opponents, especially this one time that caused him to be banned from the ring. now for money he just fixes up people’s air conditioners and fridges and shit and also works maintenance at a hotel chain around connecticut to get money when he really needs it <3 literally if you need something fixed hit him up and he’ll be happy to do it but he would also love if you made him dinner to thank him because he has eaten too much kraft mac n cheese.

when avery was a sophomore, his girlfriend of a few months accidentally got pregnant whoops <3 and he was ready to literally drop everything for his girlfriend and daughter, but his girlfriend didn’t want that because she was lowkey a bitch! she ended up using a secret that avery had told her (that he had a public intoxication charge that his family had covered up) and took him to court and got his custody rights taken away and a restraining order placed on him and then dropped out of yale before anybody could know about the baby and zoomed to another state and now avery is like ok <3 his daughter’s name is skye though and she is four now and sometimes he still gets updates but literally it eats him alive hahaha

personality:

basically paddington going through an emo phase. he has extreme rbf and might be a solid unit who looks intimidating, but he genuinely is so sweet. by his looks you’d expect him to push you down the stairs but in reality he’s the kid who is 20 minutes late to class to hold the door open for people and he’ll feel good about it even if nobody says thank you to him. 

certified sad boy! the extremely nice guy you meet at a house party who remembers what drink you like from some time you apparently met three months ago? avery loves house parties for real and will be the angel who cleans up at 5am even if he’s got an exam at 8. he loves to take care of people to fill his fatherly void even though he’s the one that needs help the most. 

accepts the fact that he’s now #poor now, but he also gets kind of insecure and jealous seeing everybody pop off with a britney work bitch vc bugatti. tries to keep up with people looks wise at least, he has one old balenciaga cross body bag that has holes in it, way too many ripped pairs of designer jeans, and a scratched gucci belt that you will see him sporting often. might want to bash your face in if you flaunt your wealth and gets kind of whiny about it sometimes.

avery is the type of person that loves the outdoors and going on picnics. his romantic dream is to lay under a tree with the soft summer breeze and play some guitar for the love of his life <3 yes he has a guitar and yes he is actually good at singing even though he gets embarrassed about it. he fucking loves music.

still has that aries moon though, is extremely defensive and my one character who will actually fight in the group chat because what the fuck does he have to lose at this point! avery has extreme anger issues that hurt him more than anything. even though he’s banned from the underground fighting ring, he still needs an outlet and will have his hands shoved in his pockets because they’re either bruised to shit or discolored from how many times they have been bruised. can be found walking home after taking the late bus so he could go scream in a field somewhere.

this man? also naive as fuck. has been hurt by too many people and really just sets him up at this point. an open book most of the time, so much that it hurts him. will tell you everything about himself like the way he can’t sleep in silence and has to have ocean noises playing, but he can’t listen to whale noises because sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks it’s a ghost. however, his family stuff is off limits and he will spit in your face if you even think about asking him about it. 

won’t hold grudges. the type to see a person for who they are as a whole and if they mess up, he’s just like “you’re better than that /: but it’s fine.” probably why he gets hurt so much

wanted connections

a roommate maybe? i pictured him living in an apartment because he probably wouldn’t be able afford live anywhere else. could be besties, could be someone he barely knows but he just needed someone to move in to split the rent.

the one person who he’ll let take care of him. it probably would take a lot to break through his walls, but this person can calm him down after he gets riled up.

since his ex went to yale, maybe one person who knew her and had somewhat of an idea of what happened. they don’t know everything but maybe from what they heard from his ex, they believe everything was avery’s fault and that he fucked her over entirely.

gut wrenching hate plots of where they really love each other but things just can’t work out for one way or another.

gentle romance <3 slow burn. someone who won’t hurt him PLEASE.

aaaaand someone who takes advantage of how naive he is

and friends. so many friends. he is just so friendly and he isn’t the type to hold shit over people’s heads. 

other links 

pinterest

[sheeple]

Real thing | 4: Surprise visit

GIFS NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): mafia!au / hacker!au Group(s): NCT Pairing(s): Qian Kun x fem!reader / Jung Jaehyun x fem!reader Summary: (Y/n), a college student who joined WayV ─ an international crime organization ─ for some extra cash as one of their hackers. But what happens when she gets mixed up in a lot more heavy stuff than only sitting behind a computer and disabling security cameras? Warning(s): Just mafia stuff / illegal things [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist]

“Are you sure you can go alone? Don’t you need me or... or Lucas to join you?”, questions Yangyang with a worried look in his eyes as he watches me put on my coat.

“Don’t worry, YY”, I chuckle, “I’m only going to study at that coffee bar down the road. There will be enough people around me to be kidnapped again. Okay?” I lay a hand on his shoulder and smile at him.

“I guess you’re right”, he grumbles as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m just... worried.”

“And I understand, but I have a mean right hook. Qian would be really stupid to try something so out in the open.” 

I swing my backpack over my shoulder and give my roommate one last pat on the shoulder before walking out the door, skipping down the stairs and getting into my car. 

Your first time being kidnapped hits different. The way Qian’s eyes spoke murder still haunts me every time I close my eyes. I mean, I would be a psycho to not feel a thing when you’re getting threatened with your life. 

With a sigh, I walk into the coffee shop and order something to drink. The barista gives me my beverage and I take place at the back, pulling out my books and laptop to study. 

But my peace is soon disturbed by another person dragging the chair in front of me back and taking place on it. I look up from my laptop screen and my breath hitches. The devil himself, Qian.

I part my lips to say something but no sound comes out my mouth. A feeling like my airways are getting squeezed shut overwhelms me as I scan the crowd.

He sighs and looks around. “Ehrm...”, he stops mid-sentence to lick his lips. “I─ how’s your neck?” He points towards the bandage Yangyang put on it to hide the wound and protect it from debris.

My hand reaches towards it and I swallow. “It’s okay, I guess?”

“Did you disinfect it? I don’t want it to get inflamed.” Qian runs a hand through his hair and chuckles awkwardly.

“Why are you here?”, I blurt out. “Sir”, I quickly add, my face turning beet red.

“No, you have every reason to be rude and defensive. I wanted to apologise. Thanks to my policy about anonymity I didn’t know you were actually working for me like you said. Is there any way I could make it up for you? Maybe a pay raise or a new car?”

I look baffled at my normally stonecold boss who has shame written all over his face. Is he... seriously buying my silence

“No thank you, Sir. I just... want to further suspect the suspects.” 

Qian sighs. “You’re actually not a spy, so normally I wouldn’t allow it. But for this time, you can. But you have to keep me or either Lucas up-to-date.”

I nod with a slight smile. “Of course, Sir. I’ll do my best.”

Qian nods and gets up. “Then I’ll leave you to study. Have a great day, (Y/n).” He turns around and nods towards two guys behind him and before they leave, he turns back around. “Don’t hesitate to give me a call if something’s wrong.”

I exhale and run a hand through my hair. I am glad he’s gone. I quickly grab my phone and text Yangyang about my encounter with the boss.

My eyes scan the place before I pack up my things and almost powerwalk out of the cafe. I don’t want the chance to see Qian again. God, he really freaks me out. 

I lay my backpack on the backseat of my car when I feel a tap against my shoulder. I shriek loudly and turn around, raising my hand to punch the shit out of Qian’s men if I need to. In case they’re here to take me again.

Before my fist makes contact with whoever dared to sneak up from behind me, they already stopped my swinging motion mid-air by grabbing my wrist. 

I open my eyes and see it’s Jaehyun and Doyoung, Jaehyun the one stopping my fist.

“Hold your horses, it’s only me”, he chuckles and I drop my hand.

“Do not sneak up to me like that, you scared me to death.” I lay a hand on my heart and sigh. 

“So your immediate reaction is to punch someone?”, questions Doyoung with a slight raise of his eyebrows, Jaehyun elbowing him. 

“Yeah”, I say as I narrow my eyes. “You never know if their intentions good or bad.” I fold my arms protective over each other and lean against my car. Something about Doyoung’s stare makes me really pissed.

“How are you doing?” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side with a smile, ignoring the burning stare of Doyoung on the side of his head.

“Good, I guess. And you? How’s studying going?” Why am I acting like we’re friends? Are we friends? No, definitely not. We're just classmates that help each other when needed. It’s polite to say hello when you see each other.

“Thanks to your tip of Mrs Shin’s website my notes are getting better.” Jaehyun smiles brightly. How can be such a happy and cute person be in the mafia? 

I look at my watch and sigh softly in relieve. “Oh look at the time, I have to go. It was nice seeing you. See you in class?”, I question while walking towards the driver’s side.

“Wait!”, Jaehyun calls out and I turn around. “Do you wanna hang out? Doyoung and I are going to the movies to see the new Frozen film. Care to join?”

I look at Doyoung and he scowls while looking away. He really doesn’t like me.

“I can’t, I’m sorry... I already promised my friend that I would go with him since he’s a big Olaf fan. Maybe we could hang out another time?” I give the two guys a pitiful smile and put a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“Ah”, Jaehyuns says, seeming a bit disappointed. “It’s okay, another time is also fun. See you?”

I nod and open the car door. “See you.”

Once I slide off my sneakers and place them in the shoe rack, I let out a relieved sigh.

Yangyang’s head peaks from behind the corner, chewing on some piece of bread that half sticks out of his mouth. “You’re home early, was it because of Qian?”

“Fuck yeah it’s because of Qian.” I walk towards the kitchen and pour myself a glass of milk. “And I also saw Jaehyun and Doyoung. I have a feeling Doyoung doesn't like me.”

“Do you think he’s maybe onto you?”, he questions with big eyes.

“No...”, I shake my head, my eyes focusing on the countertop. “Well... You think?” I look up to my roommate and he shrugs. 

“Maybe you have to ask what’s his problem is? Playing innocent always gets me out of problems.” He opens the fridge and grabs a couple of cheese cubes. 

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but you act innocent in front of a teacher and sweet talk your way out, not squaring up to some mafia guy who can easily kill you with the gun behind his belt.”

Yangyang looks at me with big eyes. “He carries a gun around, even at school?”

A sigh leaves my lips as I move around the kitchen, grabbing a bow to put some peanuts in it. “No, idiot. It was matter-of-factly. Well... I could see Doyoung carrying a gun to school. That dude has the vibe of a trained killer, I swear.”