#anyway. i know the prices are often the same across stores but not always so I've been trying to find a kobo daily or weekly deals email

[caffeinated-bibliophile]

You know how there's stuff like Book Bub and Book Riot's ebook deals emails?

Is there one that's for NON Kindle books like for the Kobo store?

When I finally replace my kindle, I do think I'll try a kobo, but I'm also trying to not buy many ebooks from Amazon anymore.

[fizzingwizard]

Yesterday bf and I went to a Michelin guide okonomiyaki place called Mizuno that we saw in a vid on youtube

I know Michelin guide isn't the same as Michelin star, but anyway, it definitely gives it a lot of attraction, and the place almost always has a queue, you have to order while you're still in line, and it's packed with tourists.

I was interested to see whether it would live up to the hype or turn out to be a tourist trap. There were a lot of very positive reviews on tripadvisor but... if most of those came from foreigners, particularly ones who never ate okonomiyaki before, then they wouldn't really have any reference for comparison. And there were some more negative/indifferent reviews. In terms of what the latter had to say about service (upset about having to stand in line or not feeling catered to), I don't agree because it shows they didn't know what kind of restaurant they were going to. This really isn't a place to relax. It's attraction is famous okonomiyaki, you go in, eat, leave. There aren't even any side dishes, not one.

It's most famous for nagaimo-yaki I think, so we ordered that and also the mizuno-yaki which is more typical. We liked the nagaimo-yaki, but agreed we liked the mizuno better. For me, the nagaimo-yaki was kind of salty and I'm not sure why. Still enjoyed it but not going back for more.

LOVED the mizuno-yaki. It's a very regular Osaka-style okonomiyaki with a LOT of protein (pork and a bunch of seafood). It was delicious. Even bf, who isn't a fan of seafood, ate it and liked it.

The portion size is small for the price. It was filling for me. Bf probably would have eaten more if we could have ordered sides. But yeah, it's a little overpriced. However, I often feel too full after eating okonomiyaki at restaurants. This time I was just pleasantly satisfied. For me it turned out to be the perfect size. Also, although I'm a huge fan of okonomiyaki and eat it often, the sauces can overload my stomach. Not this one! They put plenty (but not too much) and I didn't feel the least bit sick afterward.

So I'm definitely a fan of the mizuno-yaki. But as to whether it's worth lining up for compared to other, cheaper okonomiyaki places? That's a NO.

It was good okonomiyaki. It was NOT substantially better than other places, where you won't have to wait as long or at all, and you'll also get more food, sides, and probably a table where you can enjoy yourself instead of being ushered along. I prefer the okonomiyaki restaurant in my town that I go to the most often. Bf is a fan of Chibo, which I also like.

So in my opinion the "michelin guide" stuff really is nonsense. If you're a tourist in Osaka, listen - the food is just across the board good wherever you go. It's reeeeeally hard to miss! In eight years I think there have been maybe two places I didn't care for. There is absolutely noooooo reason to go specifically to Mizuno for okonomiyaki. You'll probably like it if you do! It's good! But there's like ten other okonomiyaki places right on the same street, and Chibo around the corner...!

Actually, if you want good food in Osaka and also a relaxing time - don't eat in Dotonbori at all! yeah yeah it's famous look. From Shinsaibashi to Tennoji it's a straight line and if you just keep walking you will find all the same stuff that's in Dotonbori elsewhere, cheaper, and less crowded. You'll find it *easily*. I never hang out in Dotonbori, so I was stunned by how many tourists were there. It was jam-packed. I totally get following the guide books, I'd do the same thing if I were in a country I didn't know well. But anyway, that's my tidbit of expat wisdom for you. Just walk past Dotonbori, at least during peak hours. You won't get lost, there are entrances to the subway everywhere, and if you do somehow lose track of them you can *always* find a convenience store that will help you with directions. Just keep going through the shopping arcades and you'll find places that aren't half so crowded that are just as good as anywhere in Dotonbori.

(One plus for Dotonbori though: we found a candy apple store!! They had cinnamon candy apples which were amaaaaazing. Felt like the middle of autumn in May. We tried to resist but couldn't. Had to loop back for them. Mmmmmm.)

[acdeaky]

out of the blue (3am calls)

warning: mentions of nightmares, implications of PTSD, fluff

note: this is (technically) my other submission for @celestialbarnes’ 4k writing challenge! i chose the prompt ‘bed’ and dialogue 9 ‘“was it the nightmares again?” “no” “you suck at lying”’ congrats again, rachel! and enjoy 🤍

read my other submission here!

word count: 1.9k

“...sorry that i can’t come to the phone right now, but- james?” you picked up, hearing the shaking breaths of bucky’s down the line as he tries to self soothe himself.

“hey,” he sighed down the receiver; you could imagine his metal hand running through his shortened locks, too. “did i wake you?”

“no, no, i’m always awake at...three-fourteen in the morning.” you replied, a teasing tone to your voice as you rubbed your sleep-ridden eyes.

“i just needed to hear your voice,” to ground me, he wanted to say, “i’m sorry, it was selfish.”

“i don’t mind, i wanna talk to you.” you smiled, knowing in a minute or so you’d be leaving the confines of your apartment to walk across the hall to bucky’s.

the other side of the phone stayed quiet for a moment, the only thing being heard was the static of the line. you didn’t want to say anything, knowing bucky usually needed a minute or two to collect this thoughts before he asked you to come over.

his excuse was that he felt like a burden; your response was always the opposite. ever since you had met him, something you always reminded him was that you were there for him, knowing what he had been through. although he was hesitant, the majority of the time you were by his side in the early hours of the morning.

“can you come over? just for a little while?” bucky’s voice was small, quiet, as always when he asked those four words. both of you knew that you’d be there much longer than ‘a little while’, but you didn’t mind when you forever replied,

“of course.”

it wasn’t long before you pulled a hoodie over your head, slipping on some socks before making your way to your front door. you grabbed your keys and opened your door, turning and twisting the lock as quickly as you could.

the hallway seemed darker than usual that night, the chill of the wooden floorboards seeping through your socks and hitting the pads of your feet as you crossed over to bucky’s apartment door. you knocked, waiting for the answer which came only a second or two later.

“i’m sorry.” was the first and only words he spoke as the door swung open.

“it’s okay.” you replied as bucky stood to the side, allowing you to step through the door before he closed it behind you.

the bareness of his apartment always worried you; it felt as if there was little progress happening, but it was. slowly but surely, and bucky knew this, he was just waiting for the right moment to ask you to go shopping with him. help pick out a new sofa, one you found comfortable. maybe even a coffee table, or a dining table so you had a proper place to sit while you ate your various take-outs every week.

it wasn’t like you didn’t see each other enough for him to ask, but he was hesitant; worried you’d say no, that he’d miss judged your friendship, your relationship even, that you were only a source of comfort on nights like this and not a friend who helped make a house a home.

even after that time you’d been with him whilst buying new bed sheets. his mind kept telling him right place, right time, that you didn’t actually want to do that with him, but you’d felt obliged to when running into each other in the store.

he was wrong, of course. your friendship meant the world to the both of you and you adored bucky, but he needed time and so did you. so, your friendship was just that: friends who saw each other the majority of the time, who found any free moment to spend together and who slept next to each other on nights like these...

bucky locked the door behind you before grabbing himself a quick drink, watching your figure as you stepped into the side of the living room and hovered over the blanket and pillow on the floor.

like usual, you said nothing, only following the same route into his bedroom while bucky left his now empty glass in the sink. just as he turned the corner, you were pulling the covers back, pulling off your hoodie and sliding under the sheets.

he watched for a minute, waiting for you to find a comfortable spot with the sheets pulled tightly around your body.

his mattress was cold, still hard, yet comfortable, from when he first bought it. the sheets were soft, too, your choice - of course - colours which you had said complemented his eyes; it was more difficult hiding the blush on his face than you hiding the price tag. he bought them anyway, knowing that you wanted the best for him and hoping that you’d put them to use some time.

and use them you had. there had been many nights since that day which you had spent in his bed, curled up against him as you feel asleep and bucky attempted to. you were the only reason the sheets got washed often; other than you and him on nights like these, nobody else used them.

it wasn’t long before he moved from his place by the door, following your early actions and joining you under the covers. ever the gentleman, bucky stayed on his side while you stayed on yours, him on his back with you on your side facing him.

it took for you to move closer to him, pressing your body into his for either of you to begin feeling any comfort.

the warmth of bucky’s body was a pleasant contrast to the mattress, both of you slowly warming up the longer you were huddled together. truly, you hadn’t meant to lay like this, but after climbing under the sheets next to him for the first time, bucky pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you. as if on instinct, your head laid on his bare chest, a hand resting in the middle of his torso as you shifted onto your side.

there were some delicate whispers from the two of you before you drifted to sleep. your kind words soothed bucky’s mind as he allowed himself to relax and settle back into the pillows; a luxury he rarely let himself have. his allowed you to feel them reverberate in his chest, his low hums acting as a settler for your thoughts.

both of you were asleep moments later.

-

“was it the nightmares again?” you asked the following night, your back against the headboard of your bed, the bright moonlight shining through the thin curtains you’d forgotten to pull across the window earlier.

“no”

“you suck at lying.” a light giggle came from you, followed by bucky’s unpleased sigh. you were right; he knew it and so did you, but you wanted him to admit it.

“i really don’t.” you scoffed lightly at those words, knowing that he didn’t even believe his own words.

“james barnes, how have you not yet learned that you cannot lie to me? i know you.” like always, there was a teasing tone to your voice, trying your best to cheer him up over the phone, especially when you could just tell that the nightmares were bad tonight.

for a moment, the other side of the phone feel silent, except for some light rustling of covers. you knew he was laid on the floor, blanket on top of and under him. regardless of how many times the two of you had tried, bucky could never find comfort inbetween his sheets unless you were there by his side.

“buck? you still there?” you hadn’t meant for your voice to go so quiet, but you really didn’t want to stop talking to him; you never wanted to stop talking to him.

“yeh, yeh i’m still here-” his sentence was almost cut off by three rough knocks at your door, making you body stiffen.

“hold that thought, buck.” you replied, moving slowly off of your bed and towards your slightly open bedroom door.

“doll, its okay,” he spoke softly, noticing the slight quiver to your voice. “its only me”

“could you not have told me that?” you laughed, speeding up to open the door as to not let him stand in the hallway for much longer.

“hey.” he smiled as the door opened, dropping his phone from his ear before ending the call.

“hey.” you mirrored his smile, doing the same while moving to the side to allow him in. as you shut and locked the door, bucky went through his usual routine every time he stepped into your apartment this late at night. his keys were dropped into the bowl on top of the cabinet by your front door, then he grabbed a drink fro your kitchen that was adjacent to your entryway, and then he met you in the doorway of your bedroom, your arms open and waiting for him.

he gladly accepted the contact, always relying on you to ground him when it felt like he’d been floating for too long. and tonight he had been.

both of you used the minimal light from the moon to figure out your way to your bed, his right hand never letting go of yours until he finally had to. the covers were pulled back from where you had left them moments ago, the sheets now cold.

the two of you laid in your bed moment later, bucky being the first to be settled on his back as you began to be pressed against his side, your head on his chest. along with the curtains, earlier you had left a small window open, allowing the noise of brooklyn at night to seep through to your room. neither of you would be falling asleep anytime soon.

“i love you, buck.” your whispered confession making its way to bucky just before he closed his eyes.

“love you, too.” he replied, not allowing the true meaning of his words to be heard.

“no, bucky,” you sat up, leaning your weight onto your right elbow as your left hand reached out for his cheek. “i love you, okay? i love you.”

there was no words for him. he truly hadn’t expected the weight of your confession and it has shocked him beyond words. all he could think to say was,

“i love you, too, doll.” his shy smile made an appearance, reminding you of the first time you saw each other. with that, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss onto his lips, the corner of his mouth and on his cheek.

bucky’s smile never faltered, only growing wider the longer you planted kisses upon his skin.

after leaving a lingering one on his jaw, you moved back to face him, resting your forehead onto his. “goodnight, baby.” you whispered, pressing one last kiss on to his lips.

“goodnight, doll.” bucky repeated your actions, leaving the both of you in a fit of smiles.

and, just like earlier, you laid on your side, your head resting above bucky’s heart with his vibranium arm around your shoulders. the two of you were asleep a few moments later, the steady beat of his heart bringing about a peace which you always felt around him.

-

taglist (for people who i think might enjoy this): @forever-rogue @buvky @buckys-darling @barnessupremacy @wallflowerbarnes @bvckysmoon @gryffindorwriter @lokiscollar @propertyofpoeandbucky @buckys-bug @aerynwrites

bucky taglist: @marvel-rhapsody @bloomingbucky

[aprillikesthings]

lol yet another nostalgia post, I never did have a tag for these

Summer used to be my favorite season in Portland because I was outside doing things constantly (especially group bicycle rides, the kind that were parties or had themes and started or ended at food carts and beer) and we had the windows open 24/7 so it was like living outside, we would just shut the blinds on whichever side of the house was getting full sun and that was enough to keep things comfy for all but like a week or so of the summer. You'd fall asleep to the sound of the breeze and the trains and cars going by and sometimes people walking outside and chatting to each other, and you'd wake up to birds and the sounds of the city.

(worth noting: due to the low-ish humidity around here it's perfectly comfortable up to 85f/30c if you're in the shade with a breeze/fan, and it often cools off to 60f/15c at night)

You'd go out for a walk just because it was nice out and everyone else would be outside, too; it seemed like. I would walk to the store and someone would be playing the banjo on their front porch and I would love the sound even though it made me feel like my neighborhood was a Portland stereotype (spoiler: it is. or was). I would pass by free piles and poke around and maybe find a book I'd been meaning to read. Or maybe a shirt in my size. A house down the street from me used to be full of Burners (aka people whose lives revolve around Burning Man) and someone in that house wore the exact same size I did and was constantly putting clothes in their free box that fit me and that I liked. They also used to have huge plywood things on their porch they were painting for that year's burn.

A house across the street from the former Burner house is for sale right now. Daci and I walked by on the way to Los Gorditos last weekend and I said, "guess the asking price," and they guessed right: nearly $700,000. (Hah, the asking price went DOWN 20k, that's a good sign.)

I wonder if I still have any of the clothes from that bin?

But now I'm always too tired to do anything outside or too worried about covid or it's too hot.

It's often just too hot. ;_;

Look: I hate air conditioning. I hate it. Don't get me wrong, I love walking into an air conditioned space when it's hot as balls, but I hate needing it. I hate feeling like the house is shut tight even in the summer. I hate the weird refrigerated air. I hate going outside and there's literally nobody outside and all you can hear is the whirr of dozens of air conditioners.

If I wanted to live that way I'd move back to the east coast, quite frankly.

We probably won't stay here. I keep saying that. So many of my friends from that era of my life have left anyway. But my family is here, so I don't know.

I look up other places to live in the Pacific Northwest, maybe further north? a little closer to the ocean?, and it's the same story, over and over. Every halfway decent smaller town* is already getting an influx of people from the larger cities and causing the same problems there: rising housing costs, wages that don't keep up, gentrification. People in those towns are pissed about it. And sure, some of their anger is tinged with a kind of localized xenophobia, but nobody likes watching their home turn into a different place over a handful of years.

Which is, ironically, why I think about leaving Portland.

But also: no place stays the same for long.

(*which is to say: not full of right-wing nutjobs. I have a lot of sympathy for folks brave enough to move to those places anyway, but as a polyamorous quad of queers, three of whom are trans, that's not something we want to do. Otherwise we'd all just live in bumfuck North Carolina, where Pan is from.)

[punkpoemprose]

A Convenient Arrangement Part 10

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 8805 Words A/N: Long chapter-- distance makes the heart grow fonder, fluffy date time, questions answered, and Kristoff definitely finds his wife attractive.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

The week was a long one. They both would agree when or if asked, but if it wasn’t related to festival plans, no one was asking either one of them anything. When they rose in the morning, they scarcely had time to greet each other in the hall or over breakfast before knocks at the door would pull them each their own way.

Kristoff spent most of his days with Kai, learning all that he could about royal manners, the history of the kingdom, peerage, and the other pertinent information and skills required of a prince consort. He’d be the first to admit it, most of it went over his head. Sometimes when Kai spoke to him he thought that he understood the words well enough individually, but when they were strung together as they were, they may as well have been in French.  

He really had no real interest in knowing whether it was more appropriate to bow or be bowed to when he met other members of the aristocracy which he was now technically a part of. He was doing his best to absorb what he could for Anna’s sake. He hated the idea that his lack of knowledge would reflect poorly on her because at the end of the day, even barely seeing her for a week, he cared deeply for her. He knew that part of making their marriage work was putting the effort in to understand her world.

When the lessons ended for the day, he would sometimes, but not always, have dinner with her. It felt like a small blessing to just be in her space since the announcement of the festival celebrating their engagement. He thought that it might be prudent to spend more time with her given that they were meant to at least appear a happy and doting couple to the public, but that detail seemed to be moot to whoever had decided to plan their days apart.

He supposed that he would seem in love with her regardless because he did have a fondness for her. He was beginning to understand the meaning of “distance makes the heart grow fonder” with each passing day. Every time they managed to dine together, he could often barely calm the racing of his heart while watching her enter the dining room, watching her sit across from him, close enough to look, but not to touch.

She’d ask him about what he had done each day and would share, in return, the plans she’d been making with her sister and the staff for the festival. He’d watch her carefully as they dined, noting the exhaustion in her posture that kept them from discussing much of anything past that. It was usually his only interaction with her each day, and it was always entirely too short.

Every night since the start of their overscheduled days, he’d slept in his room alone. Anna was usually needed elsewhere after dinner, attending to decisions and meetings that had been pushed late into the night. Sometimes she was being stolen for a fitting for her festival gown, other times decoration choices, and at least once she’d been taken for a chocolate tasting. That at least seemed to be the least objectionable way for her to spend her evenings of the lot.  Each night he’d waited for her to return in vain, and each night he’d eventually headed to bed alone.

It had become strangely lonely to climb into his bed at the end of each day, knowing that she would do the same on the opposite side of their shared door. He’d slept alone for his entire life, but after only a few nights with Anna in his arms, he hated the way it felt to lay in the large empty bed without her. Some nights he would stay awake a short while, expecting to hear her knock or laying there wondering if she wanted him to knock. He’d never heard her knock though, he’d just hear the opening of her door, the soft thuds of drawers and doors as she prepared for bed, and then silence.

From across the room, the small chest he stored his things in would taunt him with the memory of something she’d said just a few days before. A crystal sat amongst his belongings, untouched, waiting for him to work up the courage to remove it from its wrappings.

It would make things so much simpler.

Or infinitely more complicated.

He’d fall asleep like that, wondering whether he should knock, whether he should bring her the gem, whether he should just let things be, or whether he should just go spend the night in the stables with Sven and his worries.

At least then I’d have someone to talk to. I don’t even care that he doesn’t speak back.

He slept in his bed each night, and when he woke each morning, he’d feel like he’d barely slept. By the end of the week, he could see the bags under his eyes when he shaved. Only two weeks living in the lap of luxury and it was already exacting a price from him.

At this rate I’ll be grey in a month.

When the knock came again, he sighed, cleaned the remaining soap from his face and shouted for the knocker to enter. He assumed that Kai was arriving with another of his famously packed schedules. While Kristoff rather liked the man, he’d begun to dread his morning arrival. He’d lived his entire life unscheduled, never bothering to pay much attention to the calendar or clock, and he wasn’t particularly thrilled by the concept of time being his master instead of he being the master of it.

The door swung open behind him with only a light sound of protest from the hinges that were still getting used to the room having an occupant. It had been unoccupied for many years, and the door seemed to have enjoyed its time off as even oiling it hadn’t stopped its protest. The soft click of its closure came immediately after, and Kristoff awaited the address from Kai that didn’t come.

There was, instead, a soft clicking of heeled shoes on the wood floor behind him as he wiped the water from his face. He didn’t think much of it or course, not until he heard another familiar voice that made his heart race.

“Kristoff?”

Anna’s voice startled him. Of course, they usually had a quick morning conversation over breakfast, but she hadn’t been in his room, nor he in hers, in a week. He turned to see her, red faced and staring at his chest.

She looked tired as well and there was a sort of tearfulness to her eye that made him nervous. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping well, and he wondered if she had been upset by something. He could admit to being a little more emotional than usual when he was tired, so he could relate, but he couldn’t quite read what was going on with Anna as she stared at him.

He tossed the towel aside. His hair, which he had been about to comb, was still wet and he could feel rivulets of water dripping down his back and over his chest. Despite the warmth of the sun through his window, he felt cool, hairs standing up on his arms as he closed the space between them in long strides.

As he approached, she was still staring at him, her face flushed, and her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something. She said nothing though, and he started to understand her expression a bit better. There was exhaustion there of course, but it was only serving to exacerbate the absolute frazzled countenance and posture she was currently performing.

It made him relax a bit. She didn’t look upset per say and he did know that his wife was not a morning person. He also had the sneaking suspicion that there was a small tinge of embarrassment in her eye and that it could explain the flush on her cheeks.

She blinked after a moment and looked up from his chest to meet his eye. He started to get the sense from as quickly as she looked away and to the floor that he understood.

Embarrassment.

It was a feeling that he had become remarkably familiar with in the last couple weeks. He’d spent years of his life half or completely naked in the woods, not knowing what it was like to worry about how he looked or sounded, but the castle was quickly making him aware of just how embarrassed he should be about, well, everything.

It was a feeling that he wasn’t particularly fond of in any way shape or form, but it was something he was getting used to. There was something at least a little bit reassuring in being comfortable with discomfort, knowing it was part of the process. Kai had been kind enough to show him that in their lessons, telling him that he was in the perfect position to always act as if he’d done nothing wrong even when he slipped up, and that if he didn’t react it didn’t give anyone else the room to do so either.

“I’m…” she started to stretch her hand out, reaching for him like she was going to press her palm into his chest.

He didn’t back away or shift from her reach, but her hand fell anyway.

“Sorry. I’m… I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to be… well that is… I didn’t know you were still getting ready. I’ll, oh gosh. I’ll leave.”

It all clicked into place then, and Kristoff couldn’t help but feel oddly amused. He felt a smile creeping to his face, completely unbidden, for the first time in a long while. He shook his head.

“No, you’re fine. I just finished up. I just need to put a shirt on and comb my hair. Did you need something?”

She seemed to collect herself somewhat as he responded. He watched as she nodded in return, still flushing, but focusing a bit more on making eye contact with him despite it.

“I thought that we could, um, skip the meetings today? I had Kai clear your schedule. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be nice to just get out for the day.”

Her voice went soft when she added, quietly, “I’ve missed you.”

He felt like she’d just handed him the most perfect gift he’d ever received. There was nothing he could imagine ever wanting more than spending time away from the castle with her. There was no greater gift than a break from the frustrating monotony of lessons with the built-in bonus of having her at his side.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He turned from her for a moment, crossing the room back to his dressing table. It was a motion with a twofold intention, allowing her to flush again without the scrutiny of his eye, and allowing him to dress and get ready as soon as possible. He could all but feel her relax behind him once his shirt was on, and it almost made him chuckle.

He remembered her sleeping against his bare chest, her face smushed against him as she slept in the most ridiculous and endearing way possible. It was a happy and sad memory, still fresh in his thoughts from how recent it had been. He’d enjoyed feeling her against him, but still remembered what it had felt like to have her shaking, crying into his shirt just before they slept. He pondered why seeing him without a shirt in the light of day was somehow more blush-worthy but decided that he’d rather not dig too deep into it. He’d be happy if they saw a day where she wasn’t embarrassed around him at all. She had no reason to be.

“You look nice,” she said after a short time.

He’d felt her eyes on him as he’d finished readying himself for the day. He walked over to her, tying his sash around his waist as he went.

He hadn’t been convinced by Kai to change his style of dress, and he had been grateful that the man hadn’t really tried to convince him to do so at all. As a result of this, he was told that he had more clothes coming to him than he’d ever owned before, and that they would be in finer fabrics than he’d ever ben about to afford. He was grateful though that they would mostly mimic the styles he’d always worn, and that they would fit. He couldn’t ask for a better outcome to his tailoring situation than that.

He would have locked himself in the palace’s dungeon before he would have worn all the frills and layers of other men of station. He understood the need for a good suit but would never quite be on board with lace. He evidently had a set of formalwear arriving soon, and while he wasn’t particularly excited about it, he had been promised that his daily wear would not be nearly so embellished and that what he had coming was downright innocuous compared to the season’s fashions. Kai had called it “timeless” and he hoped that what he meant by that was “simple”.

Anna seemed cautious when she walked to his side after offering the compliment. Kristoff held his breath when she reached out a hand and gently smoothed a wrinkle in the front of his shirt with her palm.

Having her hands on him always felt good. There was no denying the fact that he enjoyed her attentions, and he couldn’t help but grin when her touch lingered a little longer than strictly necessary. He’d been longing to see her for days, to hold her hand, to even stand near her side.

“Thank you,” he said quietly after he allowed himself to breathe again.

He turned his attention to what she wore. It was perhaps the simplest dress he’d ever seen her wear, save of course for her nightgowns. It was dark green with some small embroidered details around the neck. It looked a bit like little flowers and birds, though he didn’t dare dip his head down towards her neck to investigate further. He didn’t think he could keep himself from pressing a kiss to her neck if he did. Even without further inspection, the fabric seemed light, like if he touched her waist while she wore it, she might be able to feel the roughness of his fingers through it.

“You look beautiful.”

She grinned at the compliment and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that she was happy to hear such a thing from him of all people.

“Thank you.”

He watched as she laced her fingers together behind her back and fidgeted a bit. Her nervousness came through when she spoke again.

“Since we’re going out I didn’t want to wear anything that would draw too much attention. I’m glad you still like it.”

He almost laughed, but held the reaction in. He wondered how she could ever be nervous about her appearance, as if she weren’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. As if he wouldn’t have thought that she was gorgeous even if they weren’t married. As if every man with eyes in a mile wouldn’t notice her even if she wore rags.

“I’ve told you before Anna, you’ll still turn heads. It has nothing to do with what you wear.”

He meant it, and he was rewarded by a shy smile and the unlacing of her fingers from each other, only to slip between his. The way his heart raced from her simply holding his hand made his face red.

Does she know how easily I’d fall apart for her?

He had to chase the thought away. He had to focus on the moment they were in before he said something he shouldn’t, something they weren’t ready for yet.

“So,” he asked, “What are we doing today?”

She shrugged a bit, then started to pull him toward the door to the hallway with her. He didn’t resist, letting himself be tugged along at her mercy.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Every time she smiled, with every moment he spent holding her hand, he fell in love a bit deeper.

***

Anna’s morning had, thus far, not gone according to plan. Of course, there had barely been a plan to begin with, but blushing like a schoolgirl over seeing her husband shirtless and having her sister find out about her intentions to leave the castle weren’t exactly indicative of what it was that she’d had in mind.

As a consequence of the latter unplanned component of her day, she now found herself and her fortunately-and-unfortunately-fully-dressed husband being followed by a royal guard in full uniform. She felt like she was thirteen, being chaperoned on a date instead of being an adult woman out on a walk with her husband.

It’s not like I’m planning to snog him in the middle of the market.

Then a more judicious thought.

Of course, I didn’t plan a lot of things that have been happening lately.

She shook it off and instead focused on her recollection of her conversation with her sister.

“There’s still some unrest amongst the people Anna, what would you do if someone decided to take their anxiety out on you?”

She’d wanted to respond in several ways, most of which were incredibly sarcastic, but the forerunners had been each unique in their ability to elicit a response from her sister.

I would survive. You’ve taken your anxieties out on me twice.

From Elsa: Sadness.

I would fight them.

From Elsa: Long suffering exhaustion.

I would let my incredibly big and strong husband take care of it for me while I ogle him from the sidelines because while I love to fight my own battles, I also think it would be nice to watch him fight someone for me so I could watch those biceps flex.

Embarrassment on both of their parts.

Anna had, in the last week of barely seeing him but at meals and in passing, taken a particular interest in her husband’s physique. The morning’s events were not even close to the first time she’d looked at him and thought about what it would be like to be in his arms again, to have his large hands spanning her waist, lifting her off her feet and up closer to him.

So close that we could kiss.

She’d been longing for his touch since the first night she’d slept along. All week, once she managed to slip into a fitful sleep, she’d dreamt of him kissing her. She could still remember how real it had felt in her sleep, not that she knew what it would really feel like. They’d kissed at their wedding, her first and only “real” kiss, but the sort of deep, attentive kiss she’d received from him in her dream was something she’d never experienced.

I want to. I desperately want to.

They were in the residential district of the city. The cobbles of the path were fairly worn, but even below her feet. There were places here and there that she was already mentally noting needed improvement. A few lamps had cracked glass that likely made them unreliable on breezy evenings, some places in the road were low and held water that didn’t drain off easily. She would tell Elsa and ensure that a more formal investigation of the city and national infrastructure was eventually made. Personally, she thought that such a thing might be the better way to improve public opinion of the monarchy than a grand display of power and wealth, but she couldn’t pretend that her wedding hadn’t improved things.

Every now and then as they walked, she’d catch someone looking at her twice. Most people were away from home, working or learning at school, but a few people were home or in the area. Older people and young mothers mostly looked at her with recognition, and she did her best to give them a shy smile without giving the indication that she was available to stop and chat. It was a delicate dance. She liked to speak with her people, of course, but she truly just wanted to spend some time with her husband. One tagalong is already bad enough.

She’d wanted to go to the market. She’d thought it might be enjoyable to see the wares she’d only watched traded from above, but her unwanted guard had insisted that “her royal highness and her consort refrain from entering any highly trafficked and indefensible zones” which had, essentially made a trip to the market impossible unless she wanted a full guard detail.

That would certainly inspire confidence in the monarchy. Hello peasants, we don’t trust you to not murder our Princess, don’t mind the platoon of men you may or may not know who are, at any moment, prepared to stab you!

She’d all but felt Kristoff rolling his eyes in response to the guard’s words. It was like she sensed the expression he was making at her side before she’d even caught him actually making it.

“It’s just a little further… I think,” she said a bit nervously, squeezing Kristoff’s arm as they walked down the street together.

There were a few specialty shops that weren’t housed in the market district, and while she hadn’t visited any of them in many years, she thought that she’d recalled the location of the shop she was after. Thought, of course was the appropriate term given that nothing looked exactly as it had the last time she’d been in the area. The years had a funny way of changing things, and she hadn’t been to the shop without her mother which was indicative of the time that had passed since she’d seen it last.

Kristoff didn’t seem to mind the somewhat aimless walking they were doing. Anna suspected that if she told him the locations she desired to reach, he’d have an answer for her, but she liked keeping it a secret. It gave some small crumb of fun back to the adventure which had been intended to be more daring before their escort had been assigned.

“I bet you know these streets better than I do,” she said after a few more moments of walking, giving voice to her thoughts.

Mostly she was just endeavoring to break the silence between them. He’d seemed rather thrilled to leave the castle, but he’d been quiet since they left. She had a feeling that their unwelcome follower was making him as uncomfortable as it was making her annoyed.

“Not so much in these side streets,” he replied.

He pulled her ever so slightly right as they walked, helping her to avoid a puddle she hadn’t noticed until he was steering her around it. It was sweet, she thought, that he was saving her shoes from getting damp. She also didn’t mind how easily he’d pulled her even closer to his side with the gesture, putting her even more in his space.

“I do know the market fairly well though. When I sell ice I tend to stay over that way.”

Anna nodded and gave him an appreciative squeeze for the assistance with the puddle. He was absolutely the helpful sort, but somehow she doubted that he advertised himself that way. She got the distinct sense in his interactions with the guards, the staff, and anyone else she’d seen him forced to interact with, that he’d rather be seen as gruff and unapproachable. He wasn’t overly so with her, but she sometimes felt that he acted like a grump when in reality he just felt awkward or uncomfortable.

She tended to talk a lot when she felt the same way. It was something she knew about herself, that she dealt with anxiety with exuberance and self-deprecation. She was trying to get a better handle on it, and now with Kristoff at her side she found that it was easier to lean on him for support when she was feeling out of control. She hoped that he’d find he could do the same with her.

When she noticed the shop she was looking for nestled between two houses to their left she excitedly tugged Kristoff in return. She hadn’t been there in a great many years, but the old building still looked the way she remembered it as a child.

Oaken’s Thrifted Goods, Antiques and Consignments.

She’d traveled there every now and again with her mother who, despite being the Queen of their nation, was practical and more interested in the old than the new. They’d always looked for things there that reminded her mother of her youth, little things that were made by hand that reminded Anna that while few knew it, her mother had been common as well.

She sometimes wished that she had asked more questions of her mother, that she had learned the story of how she’d met her father and how they’d come to be wed. All Anna did know was that Iduna wasn’t born in Arendelle and that she was not royal by blood. There were some records somewhere in the archives about her being given a duchy somewhere in the direction of the hinterlands, and with the suddenness that she’d shown up in her father’s public life, she supposed that everyone must have assumed that she was born noble and had simply spent her whole life in the hills.

Maybe, she thought, Kristoff wouldn’t feel so out of place if he knew that he was not the first consort to Arendelle royalty to have been born common. She wondered if he would take comfort in the fact that the nation’s Queen hadn’t had an ounce of royal blood and that it had been purposeful. Marrying for love was not common for aristocracy, but her parents had done it.

“Oaken’s?”

Kristoff seemed confused, staring at the sign for a moment as if in disbelief.

“Yes?”

Anna stopped short of the door, feeling as confused as he was, her confusion having everything to do with his confusion and nothing to do with the shop before them. She didn’t think that the shop had ever moved. It might have changed hands in the years since she’d been there last, the owner had been an older man so she supposed it was possible that the shop was now run by someone who was not an Oaken. She wondered if that was the point of confusion for him, maybe he thought that the business had been renamed or something.

“There’s an Oaken who owns a trading post up in the mountains. It couldn’t be the same guy, right?”

Anna shrugged; she really couldn’t say for sure. She was glad to understand why he was confused, and she couldn’t help but try to recall whether or not the last name was terribly common.

“Because uh…” he looked back toward the guard, and then back at Anna seeming a little sheepish.

He ducked down and whispered in her ear, “The Oaken I know, he and I occasionally get into arguments over pricing. We’ve mostly worked it out, but I thought you should know in case we walk in and I get the stink eye.”

Anna tried to hold back her laugh, but to no avail.

He gave her an exasperated look when she walked them through the door, turning back to tell the guard he wasn’t needed indoors.

“Yet.”

***

Kristoff was grateful to know that the Oaken inside the shop was not the Oaken he’d recently had some “pricing debates” with. They rarely really argued, but he’d felt on one or two occasions that his arguments with Oaken brought the usually even-tempered man to the point of anger. They’d always sorted it out of course, but he was still waiting for the day that the man would throw him out on his rear over a debate.

No, this Oaken was much older, possibly the father of the man he knew, or some other elderly relative given the similarity of their faces and builds. He seemed similarly even tempered thus far, but perhaps a bit less enthusiastic. He’d been pleasant with Anna of course, recognizing her as the crown Princess and evidently a former customer, but he’d also told them in no unspecific terms that he was too old to help them and that if they had any questions, they should come to him because he was not going to them.

“Isn’t it so neat in here?”

Kristoff couldn’t help but smile as he saw Anna taking in the many items packed into the small building. They were arranged neatly, everything from old steamer trunks and hand-crafted furniture to piles of old keys and shelves of dusty books.

Anna grinned at all of it, openly gazing about the space like it was full of gold instead of second and third hand items. He thought that it was charming in a way, that the practical used items of the people who lived in her kingdom were of interest to her.

“My mother and I used to spend hours here when I was a little girl. She taught me how to sew using old tablecloths we bought here… not that I’m particularly good at it, but I can put a button back on if I need to.”

He couldn’t help but find her excitement at least a little bit contagious as he gazed upon the shelves and tables of items with her. There was something about the well-worn tools and broken in chairs in the space that spoke to him in a way that the fancy spotless trappings of the castle just couldn’t. He’d always been practical, and the items here were nothing if not sensible.

“It’s strange for me to try to imagine a Queen here,” he said, hoping that she took no offense to his saying so.

He was happy when he noticed Anna smiling fondly.

“My mom wasn’t really the royal type… not that she didn’t act like a Queen, because she did. She just never saw the point in waste, and she liked simple things. I have a shawl of hers that she had since she was a girl, a pretty handmade thing that she mended herself. That’s how I usually remember her; warm and pragmatic.”

“I’d probably describe my mom the same way,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet yours.”

Anna looked sad for a moment, but Kristoff could tell that it wasn’t his fault. The space brought it out of her as much as it brought her joy. He knew it was her first time here without her, and he was glad that they were talking about it. He was glad that she’d brought him somewhere so important to her.

“I’m sorry too,” she said before taking a deep breath and adding, “she would have liked you.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave her what he hoped came off as an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand.

When she squeezed back and leaned into this side, for the first time in a week, he felt like he could truly relax.

“I thought we’d look for some things for your room?”

There was a bit of trepidation in her voice that he registered as nerves coming through. He wondered how long they would be nervous when they spoke to each other, how often they’d be walking on glass with one another. He already trusted her, and he desperately wanted to show himself to be worthy of her trust in return. Testing the already tenuous bonds of their fledgling relationship was understandably nerve wracking.

“I don’t really need much… I brought most of my things with me.”

He didn’t want to shut her down. He didn’t want to say no when she clearly wanted to do something with him. He just was unused to the idea of buying things for himself. He usually only bought what he couldn’t make or find himself

She’s trying.

“I… I know, it’s just… I know the room isn’t probably the way you want it to be. I remember your cabin being a lot cozier and I thought that maybe we could find some things here to make it a little more like that. Elsa suggested we get a decorator for you to consult with, but I kind of thought you’d hate that so…”

She let out a sort of nervous laugh and he felt his heart racing in his chest.

She’s been thinking about this. She’s been thinking about you.

“I… I’m not used to buying things… or having things bought for me. It just feels strange I suppose.”

Anna’s fingers slipped from his then, and the loss of contact was immediately distressing until she felt them tentatively shifting up his arm and wrapping around his bicep. She stepped in front of him and gave him a soft smile before pulling him in the direction of the nearby bookshelves that separated the front and back of the shop, forming an archway between them.

Once they had slipped past the shelves, she pulled him into a smaller alcove in the shop filled from floor to ceiling in small, labeled drawers. According to their labels they held everything from furniture hardware to saltshakers and children’s toys. She leaned into him once they were in the space, hiding them away in the already empty shop save for its owner.

“Please,” she said softly.

She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him. He thought that she looked a bit determined despite the hesitancy she’d shown a few minutes before.

“I know this is all new and strange to you, but I really just… I want to do something for you. Please? I wasn’t even able to get you a wedding gift, and frankly if you’re worried about money… I guess no one told you about my dowry?”

He blinked for a moment, trying to focus on what she was saying when all he could think about was that she was hugging him. A week away from her touch, and only being somewhat familiar with the feeling of having her wrapped around him was taking its toll on his mind. He was already frazzled, just by the way it felt to have her against him again.

He wrapped his arms around her in return and noticed the way she melted into him a little more as he did so. He did his best to catalogue all the ways in which she was making him feel, and he flushed a bit when he realized that the embrace, combined with the doe eyed gaze she was giving him, was causing a very specific sort of reaction in him that he’d thus far been managing in her presence.

His wife was beautiful, he was getting a very good view of her freckled decolletage, and he was very much a man. He could feel his face going red again.

“I’m sorry,” he said a bit nervously realizing he hadn’t really heard what she’d said, “What?”

“I want to get you some things as a wedding gift, but if you’d prefer… I guess no one told you about the dowry, but there’s…” she cleared her throat, seeming embarrassed to be discussing money with him, “there’s a lot there. I think you have an account with the treasury, maybe Kai was going to tell you later, but anyway… you can afford to purchase things on your own if you want… I just, I really wanted to do something for you today. I wanted to do something with you.”

He almost asked about the dowry, the heart attack that revelation gave him being enough to distract him from the line his thoughts had been running in, but he could tell the discussion was making Anna uncomfortable. He didn’t exactly feel like telling her in this fraught moment that he wanted no bride price from her, and that certainly didn’t need the sort of exorbitant amount of money she was implying.

“If you would enjoy it,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat when the words came out a bit muddled, “I’m sure we could find something. You’re right, the room isn’t exactly cozy.”

I can’t tell her that I prefer her room over mine.

She smiled then and leaned her head into his chest. He felt the tension leaving both of their bodies when he pulled her closer.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He pressed a kiss into her hair and reveled in the soft sound she made in return. He longed for the day he’d kiss her properly.

***

Anna had almost felt bad relegating their guard to purchase handling duty.

Almost.

Of course, it hadn’t been his fault that he’d been sent to mettle in her day plans, but she was still a little miffed that he’d prevented her from taking Kristoff into the market to pick out some new things for his room. She knew that it was because Elsa had been the one to insist upon his guarding, but Anna wished that sometimes people were more amenable to bending her sister’s rules. She certainly was herself.

It didn’t matter now though, not when she felt Kristoff’s hand at her back, supporting her on the ladder they’d requested be brought up to his room so that Anna could hang the sage green curtains they’d managed to find at the shop.

He’d laughed at her glee over finding them, and she’d felt genuinely happy to be laughed at. She liked that her enthusiasm brought him joy, and truly she hadn’t felt like she was being laughed at by him. The better term would be that he was laughing with her, and she thought that if it was something that they could do together every day, their marriage would be exactly what she’d always wanted.

All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to love me.

She saw it in his eye when he helped her off the ladder. The joy of sharing the domesticity of the day with her, the spark of something that she might dare call like if not love. She held the joy it brought her in her heart, locked it up tight so that nothing that might occur in the next week leading up to the festival might steal it from her.

“You’re right,” he said warmly, “They do make it feel less…”

“Formal,” she finished.

The curtains were simple, a plain sage green with some small vines at the very top and bottom embroidered in white thread. Had she been any good at it, or had she had the patience for it, she liked to think that it would have been the sort of thing she would have made for him.  

He nodded, and she felt his hands linger at her waist even when she was standing back on solid ground.

They’d shared lunch when they’d returned, eating it at the table in his room that was now decorated with a small candle holder she’d found that reminded them both of Sven’s antlers.

“When they bring the high back chairs up from storage, I think that’ll help too. We can have them put by the fireplace.”

She’d insisted that since he hadn’t allowed her to purchase any furniture for him, even used, that he select some furniture from the castle storage to improve the comfort of the space. He had selected a few items from a list she’d sent for while they were dining and she was rather pleased by his choices.

Making his room more comfortable for him was something that she was taking great enjoyment from.

That I’m also making it more comfortable for me is just a bonus.

She couldn’t really lie to herself. It was, in part, by design that she had insisted on two chairs instead of one, and that she’d encouraged him to pick a lovely quilt from the shop that made her think of the one they’d been wrapped in at his cabin. She couldn’t deny that she was thinking ahead to a time where perhaps she’d spend more time in his space, though she could hardly dare to think about a time beyond that, a time where his things would blend together with hers and where they would spend every night together. A time where the door between their rooms wouldn’t be needed.

Her heart raced every time the thought crossed her mind.

He lifted up the last remaining item they had to find a home for, a small wooden trinket box that he’d taken an interest in early on in their search. It had been amongst a pile of tools but had not been large enough to hold any of them. It was simple, smaller than her jewelry boxes, but roomy enough to fit a few small objects. The top had a line of trees burned into it but was the only decoration on the piece.

“I think I know what belongs in here,” he said after a few moments of looking it over.

I think I do too.

Her heart raced when he crossed the room to his chest and kneeled to the floor to open it. She’d been hoping, quietly, almost secretively to even herself, that he would want to show her the crystals again.

What did it mean? Why did he nearly kiss me after I told him about the glow?

***

The crystals were wrapped loosely in scraps of fabric, protecting their rough natural edges from chipping and breaking. He could feel the soft hum of magic inside each of them, even through the cloth. His parents had taught him how to feel it, encouraging him to focus on it and to guide the magic into his hands. He would never be able to control it as they did. Magic didn’t run in his blood like it did theirs, but as Anna approached behind him, he made the choice to show her, at least as much as he could, the importance of the gems.

He patted the floor beside him and was grateful when she didn’t hesitate to sit at his side in front of the box. He watched as she quickly settled herself to his side, her knees bumping into his gently as she sat.

“I think they deserve a special home,” he said, gesturing to the box he’d already set on his other side.

One deserves a very special home. It belongs with you.

The thought didn’t exactly catch him off guard as much as it slipped through the cracks of the wall he’d been holding it behind. He couldn’t admit to himself that he had a great deal of hope about what Anna had said before about the crystal, because to admit that would be to invite disappointment when the outcome was decidedly not what he was hoping for.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I love her. If it’s not by fate it’s at least by choice.

He took some small comfort in it as he unwrapped the gems and lifted out the yellow one first.

“This one,” he said, focusing on the way it felt warm in his palm, encouraging it to give off a light glow, “is a fire crystal. They come in a few shades of red and orange and yellow. The trolls can actually start fires with them, but I can get it to warm up a little if I really focus on it.”

After a moment of quiet between them he heard her gasp as the crystal began to glow a pale yellow. He couldn’t help but grin when he handed it to her and let her watch the glow fade. He noticed the way she hovered a hand above the stone feeling the slight warmth radiate off of it from above as she felt it in her palm. She seemed thoroughly impressed and he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud to have been able to show it to her.

He handed her the small box and watched as she carefully set the stone inside. Once she was finished, he pulled out the next crystal, the blue one. He’d never had quite as much luck getting an effect with it, but he could make it glow.

“This one is a water crystal. The trolls can get them to make rain, but I’ve only ever been able to get a little condensation on the outside and I’m not convinced it wasn’t just sweat from my hand.”

When she laughed he felt light.

It’s easy to feel hopeful when everything she does makes my heart race.

The gem let off a light glow, but little more. She seemed impressed nevertheless and when he handed it to her, she focused on it in her palm for a short while before setting it too into the box with great care.

He had to remind himself to breathe watching her look from the box to him. When her eye met his, a strange knowingness there, he felt fear leave him. They were so close that he could easily kiss her, just by leaning in. He let the cloth fall away from the last crystal and forced himself to inhale deeply, breaking their eye contact to turn his attention to the pale pink gem.

She’s my wife. I love her.

“This one,” he began, lifting it from the fabric with his other hand to show her better, “This one is special. Every man in my family receives one when they reach adulthood, and they guard it closely. Its magic is special because it’s tied to the heart. I never really listened to everything my father told me about it because I never thought I’d have a reason to show it to anyone, but…”

She was looking at him intently, her eyes meeting his and then glancing to his lips. He felt his heart racing.

“Why doesn’t it glow when you hold it?” she asked, breaking the long silence where he’d let his speech drop off.

He gave her a soft, almost rueful smile. She felt like there was a joke there that she didn’t understand.

“Because it’s mine,” he started, then after a moment’s thought, continued, “It’s confusing and hard to explain if you weren’t raised knowing about it, but essentially the trolls think that everyone has a fated partner, a second half. You know they believe in fate, we discussed it when you met them, but this is the ultimate show of that belief. The only person that is supposed to make your gem glow is your soulmate.”

She flushed and he longed to give her a better reason to do so than a crystal. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and tell her that it didn’t matter whether or not it glowed when she touched it. He wanted to kiss her and show her how little it mattered to him, but it would be a lie.

It does matter. I love her. I want her to see that I will only ever love her.

He knew she’d be crushed if it didn’t.

He watched as she extended her hand to him slowly. There was a shine to her eye that he understood as nerves. She’d told him before that the gem had glowed when she’d touched it, but he had thought about all the things it could have been, and was sure that she was worried about it as well.

A trick of the light, a fluke, a misremembrance from a day where she’d been given shock after shock.

“You don’t have to.”

She gave him a soft smile in return.

“I think we both know that I do.”

There was a finality in the way she cautiously uncurled her fingers, insisting that he deposit the gem in her hand. He wondered if she truly believed what she had seen before, or if the nerves he had seen in her were from the concern that it wouldn’t react to her touch.

He dropped it into her palm and felt the racing of his heart reach a crescendo.

Pink.

***

Anna felt her heart racing as he handed her the gem. She could see in his eyes that this meant even more than he was saying.

Soulmates. The glowing means we’re soulmates.

She’d spent her whole life wanting to be wanted, wanting to be someone’s everything. She tried to shake off her concerns that she’d been seeing things before when she’d made the gem glow in his cabin, but it was hard to believe that she had always been meant for someone, that she and Kristoff had been fated to be together.

She saw the shakiness of his normally steady hand as he held the gem over her palm, and she had to remind herself to breathe in the moments before he released it into her hand.

She gasped when the cold gem hit her skin and immediately sent a bright pink glow across her palm.

Fate.

Soulmates.

She’d already known. Something inside her had known since their wedding night, even before the trolls, that with Kristoff was where she was meant to be. The confirmation had her joyous.

He wrapped his hand over hers when he recognized the light, squeezing the gem between their palms and doing nothing to dampen the glow. If anything, Anna thought that it might be glowing even more under the combined touch of their skin. She didn’t have long to notice whether it was true or not though, because her view was quickly blocked by Kristoff entering her space.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her to him enthusiastically. She let an appreciative, borderline needy, sound slip from her mouth and was rewarded by the press of his lips to hers.

It was a remarkably different kiss to the one they’d shared at their wedding. It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t chaste, and it wasn’t required.

She took the hand that was not entwined with his and let it slip up to his hair naturally. She’d wanted to slide her fingers through his hair for well over a week, and now it felt instinctive to do so. Her hand squeezed a bit tighter against his as she deepened the kiss, feeling the way he drew her in even closer as she did so.

She didn’t try to tame the soft sounds of pleasure that slipped from her mouth and into his, she didn’t fight it when he kissed her breathless. She simply forged ahead, feeling safe and loved in her husband’s arms, kissing him with love and appreciation.

My husband. My soulmate. How could I ever have doubted it for even a moment?

***

He hated to be the one to break the kiss, especially after being the one to initiate it. Unfortunately, what he could remember of his family’s tradition dictated that he stop kissing her at some point. He had work to do now, and there was only one place he could do it.

He let his free hand slide up from where he’d been holding her, to her cheek, cradling it. Her eyes were still half lidded and showed pleasure in their darkness as she looked from his lips to his eyes. She was glowing as much as the gem was, and he couldn’t help but to take a moment to just stare at how beautiful his wife was.

She leaned her head into his palm lovingly, almost nuzzling him. He thought that someday if she allowed him to, they’d sit just like this again and he’d count each and every freckle on her nose and cheeks. It was a scene that played out nicely in his thoughts, giving him the strength through promises of the future, to pull away.

“I’m sorry Anna, but I have to leave for tonight. I have to go do something… I have to tell…”

“You have to tell your family,” she said matter of factly, understanding in the face of his uncertain apologetics.

“It’s okay,” she added after a moment, “I’ll still be here when you come home.”

What she didn’t say, but what he heard in her tone was the “I love you”.

He leaned in again and when she kissed him, he felt the words in the act. He tried his best to give it to her in return.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Anna, my wife, my soulmate, I love you.

Someday soon he’d say it out loud.

[negans-savior-complex]

Plotted starter for @wrathfulmercy

Negan hadn't been in New Orleans in years. Hell, he couldn't even remember how long it had been since his parents had last dragged him from his hometown in Virginia all the way to Louisiana to meet up with family there. Felt like a lifetime ago now.

But now he was here and it looked exactly like how he remembered. Sure, things had changed in twenty or so years but he had spent so much time wandering these streets as a kid and a teen during one of those lengthy family trips in the summer and winter, he didn't think he could get himself lost even now.

Of course he hadn't talked to anyone in his family since the day he'd fled home, neither his family in Virginia nor the ones here. He didn't know how they were doing, just like they probably didn't know where he was, or if he was even still alive. After all, he hadn't left home in the best of conditions.

He was doing better now, a lot better, but he still felt no desire to reconnect with his family. They were part of his old life and there was no room for them in the new one. It was probably best that way, the life of a hitman wasn't exactly the safest, so he was better off alone, keeping contacts to a minimum. It was what worked for him.

That was why he was here. Simon had sent him the info on a new target about a week ago and now it was his job to track down his target here in New Orleans, learn their schedule, set up a plan and carry it out, make it look like an accident. The target was some kind of bar owner, who supposedly had been sleeping with the wife of a friend. It was the same old story he'd heard so often before and Negan didn't particularly care for the details on a personal level. Just on a professional one.

A good hitman was one that came prepared.

Either way, he expected to be spending at least a few weeks here, if not longer, before he was ready to make his move. That left him with plenty of time to kill, no pun intended.

Negan took another deep drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes, letting the acrid smoke settle into his lungs, lingering for a handful of seconds before he blew it back out, smoke drifting away on the gentle breeze. Dropping the stub on the asphalt and snuffing it out with the heel of a heavy biker boot he rose up from the comfortable seat of his motorcycle with the heavy creak of leather and swung his leg back over to stand next to it, peeled off his gloves and stored those along with his helmet in one of the baggage compartments.

Fuck, he loved this bike. Sure, he'd gotten it secondhand a few years ago and it had still cost him a fortune but goddamn... what with all the traveling he did, he couldn't imagine doing it any other way. Cars were seriously overrated anyway.

Pocketing the keys Negan turned and peered up at the quaint little flower shop in front of him, welcoming and friendly looking. Flowers in every size and color were laid out in vases and pots filled with water in front of the windows outside, on either side of the entry way, little tags with handwritten prices stuck in the soil or clinging to the thin plastic film wrapped around the stems. The air was thick with their sweet scent, all cloying together and Negan didn't think it would be all that better inside without the fresh air, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd bought flowers for anyone, sooooo...

Yeah. He was here to buy flowers. Fancy that.

The little bell on the door jingled happily when he stepped inside and wrinkled his nose to resist the urge to sneeze, the scent of flowers and damp earth assaulting his nostrils. There were a few other people inside but he ignored them and looked around. Jesus, where to even begin? There were so many to choose from! Fuck, he felt so out of his element here-

“Can I help you?”

Negan almost jumped out of his jacket and whirled around on his heel, blinking at the young girl in front of him with wide open eyes. She wore a light pastel green shirt with the shop's name embroidered on the front in a neat cursive font, marking her as an employee. “Uh- yeah, probably. I uh...” Clearing his throat Negan scratched at his stubbled jaw and gestured towards the wall lined with more colorful flowers then he could shake a fist at. “Um... what kind of flowers would you give to your favorite aunt on her birthday, from her favorite nephew she hasn't seen in years?” Because yeah, even though he wasn't interested in reconnecting with family, Auntie Isabelle lived here in New Orleans and she really was his favorite aunt.

And he really was her favorite nephew. He could at least sent her some flowers even though he wasn't planning on actually showing his face.

The girl's warm smile widened and she nodded. Aw, this poor but very tall and handsome stranger who looked so lost and out of place in their little flower shop... of course she'd help him! “Well, lilies always do well in a birthday bouquet, they represent happiness and positivity. Roses too, and gerberas are very cheerful.”

… okay? Like he knew what the fuck a gerbera even looked like. Wasn't that some kind of rodent or something? “Y'know what?” He raised both hands with his palms facing forward, an abashed smile flashing across his features. “You clearly know what you're talkin' about so... how about you put something nice together that you think will work? I trust your judgment on it.”

“Oh, of course! I'd be happy to! Would you like to write a card for your aunt in the meantime?” She gestured towards the counter and Negan followed where she pointed, spotting the small stand with little pastel-colored cards in flowery print and nodded. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.

“I'll do that. Thank you, darling.” He flashed her a warm smile and she watched as her handsome customer walked over to the counter to browse the little cards they had available, breathing out softly before she too turned and reached for the lilies. Oh, she'd always secretly had a thing for bad boys and he was cute.

[hookedonapirate]

Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

Stay tuned for more...

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[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] Golden Wheat

Rating: M Characters: Xu Mo/Reader Word Count: 4388

Tags: Lime. Fluff. Minor angst. Established Relationship.

Notes: He’s 29 years old, if we’re counting from when this game was released in China! (I have to make myself feel better about my own aging LOL).

Summary: Sometimes a special day doesn't need anything special, simply being together with someone important to you is enough.

"Mhm, I just got off work and I'll be coming home after making a quick detour. I'll only be 10, maybe 15, minutes later than usual."

You tell Xu Mo this through the phone while weaving around people on the sidewalk, heading for a bakery which was just across the street from you.

"Huh? Oh no, you don't need to come pick me up. Seriously, I'll be home before you—ah!" You jerk to a stop before you step out into the road when a car comes to a screeching stop right before the crosswalk, blaring its horns at you.

Excuse me? The walking sign is clearly on and flashing, so you have the right of way! Was the driver trying to run a red light?!

You give them the stink eye and then cross the street quickly, this time after checking to make sure no other cars are going to try and break the law, before picking up your conversation on the phone again.

"Hello? Sorry about that. Anyway, like I said, I'll be back before you know it. Just relax and wait at home!"

You don't hear a response after your words though so you bring the phone down only to see that the screen is completely black. Did your phone die!? But it was clearly at 20% battery the last time you checked... You know you should have replaced this old phone with a new one, but work has been so busy lately that the matter keeps slipping your mind.

Hopefully, Xu Mo got most of your message though. You speed up your steps just in case and head into the bakery to get the birthday cake you ordered in advance. You and him planned to take a trip to celebrate his birthday and, unlike the first celebration, you're determined to make sure this cake survives its journey to him.

~~~

Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Who knew you would end up waiting in line forever just because a customer decided to argue with the counter clerk. It gets to the point where you contemplate stepping in to save the poor employee who is being berated, but fortunately a manager appears to handle the irate customer.

After that whole situation is resolved though, there's an issue with your custom order in their electronic records and the employees have to spend a good chunk of time manually finding your order in the back of the store.

By the time you leave the bakery, you decide to hop into a taxi to get home instead of taking the subway, thinking that will be quicker, but it's peak rush hour now and you end up getting stuck in the traffic of everyone else trying to go home.

Your estimated 10 to 15 minutes of being home later than expected becomes an hour and a half. You also have no easy way of contacting Xu Mo to let him know. For a second, you think about asking to borrow the taxi driver's phone, but decide that will be too much of a hassle.

You just know Xu Mo is going to give you that helpless smile of his, tinged with exasperated affection, when you get home and tell him all about your Herculean journey today.

Finally, the taxi brings you to the small neighborhood where you are living with Xu Mo and you quickly pay the fare before jogging through the small path between the trees to the house and the man you know is waiting at the end.

You lift your eyes up automatically, straining to see a familiar silhouette on the veranda where he will often lean against the rails to catch sight of you whenever you return home later than him. However, you don't see any figure on the veranda. The lights of the house are on, so you know he must be at home. But you don't see him.

Just as your eyebrows start to furrow, you hear the gravel ahead of you crunch and shift and your line of sight drops down to see Xu Mo appear on the road home.

Oh. He must have been unable to wait for you and came down to personally welcome you home instead. Fondness and amusement wells up in you and you get the urge to tease him for his impatience.

"Xu—" You start to say his name, but then you find yourself pulled into a crushing embrace. Caught off guard, the cake box tumbles out of your hands and onto the ground between you two.

"You're home."

His voice is hoarse and the freezing cold fingertips that brush against you, when he curls a hand around the back of your head to hold you closer to him, gives you a shock. How long has he been standing out here waiting for you?

You can feel his throat move beside your ear, Adam's apple bobbing, as if there are too many things he wants to say but he doesn't know where to start and so he can only swallow the words down. It's so unusual for your professor that your hands hover in the air, not sure what has come over him, before you finally return his embrace.

A tremor runs through him at your touch.

"I'm back."

"... You were gone for much longer than 15 minutes later than usual."

There was an angry customer in the bakery. The shop had problems. The taxi got caught in traffic. My phone died. These phrases appear in your head but they all sound like excuses even though there is no censure in his voice.

"I'm sorry," you say instead, feeling contrite as you realize he was genuinely worried, "I should have let you know somehow."

His silent laugh stirs your hair. "I'm not blaming you, but hm... maybe you do need to pay a price for lying."

It's your turn to laugh against him and the weight in your chest disappears when you hear him slyly trying to get a benefit. If he can tease you like this, then whatever emotions that had prepossessed him earlier are now gone.

"Alright, name your price." You place yourself in his hands without hesitation, curious as to what he'll ask for.

"Let's cancel the trip tomorrow."

However, you weren't expecting him to say this. You blink and then reflexively step back to be able to see his face. Xu Mo lets go, giving you this space, and watches you with a calm expression.

You can't read anything in those quiet and dark eyes, but it's extremely rare for him to openly go against something he knows you've been looking forward to, especially when the purpose of this trip is to celebrate his birthday. You don't refuse him though. You can't and never have whenever he voices his wants.

"Okay, we don't have to go. It'll be your birthday after all, so whatever you say goes." You smile brightly to let him know you really don't mind.

"Thank you." His expression softens, eyes suffusing with tenderness, and then he bends down to pick up the fallen cake box in one hand before reaching out with his other to grab yours. His slender fingers slide in between your fingers and your hands press together, palms flush with each other. "Let's go in before you catch a cold."

"You're one to talk," you reply, squeezing his cool hand in emphasis before you place your free hand on top of his and yours and try to rub some of your warmth into him.

He leads you on the short path home and you swing your joined hands lightly as you tell him all about your day. When you get to the part about the cake, the two of you are already through the front door and you cast a look at the box in his hand, which he's placing on the small entryway table, and sigh as you take off your shoes.

"I'm a bit scared to open the box and see what happened to that poor cake after its fall. Hey, how come there's always cake casualties on your birthday?"

You raise your head up to look at him only to feel something warm press against your mouth.

Xu Mo takes advantage of your surprise to deepen the kiss. Despite the chill that lingers in his hands when he cups your face and in the tip of his nose when he tilts his head, skimming it against your cheek, his tongue is burning hot. His need for you is consuming, completely at odds to the calm appearance he had earlier, and you find yourself falling.

No, you really do stumble, breaking the kiss when your legs go weak and you barely manage to clutch onto his shirt in time before you slide down to the ground.

This doesn't even faze Xu Mo though, who lowers his head to follow you and catches the rim of your ear between his lips. His breathing echoes the pounding of your heart and then you feel him drop his hands from your face to loop an arm around your waist and the other below your backside before he lifts you up.

"Xu Mo!" You startle when you suddenly find yourself weightless and entirely in his arms. You grab onto his shoulders instinctively to balance yourself. "Wait—"

But with your faces at the same level, he kisses you again. You dimly feel him press you against the wall of the foyer before the white-hot surges of pleasure muddles your mind and completely drowns out your thoughts.

You're breathless by the time the kiss ends. Still, somehow you manage to gasp out, "The cake..."

Shouldn't it be checked to see if anything can be saved and put in the fridge? Or if not, thrown away?

"We'll make another one together tomorrow," his voice is low when he responds.

It takes you a second to understand him, because that wasn't what you were asking. He doesn't give you a chance to clarify though as he seals your mouth with his again and takes away your ability to think. His tongue sweeps across the sensitive spots in your mouth, making your toes curl and your legs clench around him, before he turns his head to the side to place open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck.

Ragged breathing resounds in the space between you two and you can't tell whether it belongs to him or you anymore. But every time his breath brushes against you, it leaves a streak of damp heat and you dig your hands into his shoulders, head falling to one side as his lips slide down your neck.

"May I take you to bed?"

The words are mouthed against your fluttering pulse more than they're said out loud and then he pauses his assault on your senses, waiting to hear your answer. His breathing is heavy and you can feel the tension in his muscles underneath your hands, like his entire body is as taut as a bowstring, but he holds you steadily and patiently.

Your cheeks flush with heat at the direct question but you still nod in permission and then lean forward, shifting your arms so you can wrap them around his back, to hide your face in his neck. When you do, the comforting and familiar scent of grasslands fills your nose.

Xu Mo's arm around your waist tightens for a second before he carries you effortlessly into the bedroom where he sets you down gently onto the bed and then leans forward to cover you, settling a knee in between your legs.

But, having unclasped your arms from him when he put you down, you press a hand lightly against his chest, making him pause. You flick your eyes to the light switch in the room and then back to him.

Xu Mo takes in your red face and appears to understand your insinuation but, much to your surprise, he doesn't grant your wish and instead says, "Let's leave the lights on tonight."

If it's possible to turn any redder, you're pretty sure you're doing it right now. You want to protest but the words catch on your lips when you look at him and realize he's not teasing you.

There is enough light in the room to see his subdued expression clearly but it also casts a shadow at the edge of his features and—maybe this is just a trick of the light—there seems to be a layer of fragility around him. Beside the bed and him is the full length window that faces the trees in the back, with its curtains partially drawn right now, but the sliver of darkness you can see suddenly strikes you with an irrational thought. If the lights were to be turned off right now then would Xu Mo vanish into the darkness? Would the shadows around his edges spread like a drop of ink in water and consume him?

Before you know it, you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into you, not wanting there to be any space between you two, and he comes to you without resistance, catching your mouth with his.

The lights in the house remain on long into the night.

~~~

You wake up slowly to fingers playing with the bangs on your forehead and the occasional brush of those fingertips against your skin is gentle.

You breathe in deeply, filling your chest with the smell of damp meadow and something cool like mint, before you open your eyes and, as expected, see Xu Mo sitting beside you above the covers in a short robe. He's reading something on his tablet, glasses perched on his nose, but he looks over the moment you stir.

"Good morning," you say, but your own scratchy voice shocks you. You clear your throat, eyes wide, and there's an amused smile on Xu Mo's lips as he exchanges his tablet with a glass of water from the side table and helps you sit up before handing it to you.

"It'd be more correct to say good afternoon."

"Huh!? Why didn't you wake me? We're going to be late!" You barely avoid choking and spilling the water on your pajamas when you hear the time. How can you two get on the train in time if it's already the afternoon?!

"Silly, we canceled our trip. Remember?"

"O-oh, right."

"I also thought it'd be better for you to sleep more. I'm afraid I asked a little too much from you last night," Xu Mo says apologetically, smoothing your bed hair with a hand, before he takes your empty glass to put it aside.

You blink at him and it takes a good second for you to register his words. Then the memories of last night come flooding into your brain.

A creaking bed.

The damp heat that presses against your back.

Bunched up sheets clutched and shifting beneath your hands.

Hot and heavy breaths echoing beside your ear.

Pleasure peaking and taking you under, but just as you sink down he starts to move again, bringing another thundering crest of passion.

Your breathless and weak voice begging for mercy.

A hoarse plea in response, "Stay with me a while longer. Just a while longer."

Ravishment swirling with ecstasy mixed with intensity until you're drowning in an ocean of fervor...

You don't remember anything else concrete. Just flashes of other images and sensations like his hand entwined with yours. The... variety of positions. But now you understand why your body aches all over and why your throat was so dry just now.

Immediately, your face feels like it's on fire and you squawk before diving under the covers. You hear him laugh from beside you, making you reach out to blindly smack at his hip.

He catches your hand in his though and kneads the pads of your fingers. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You were cute. Mm, like a kitten."

You pop your head out from under the covers. "Stop bringing it up!"

But it's not like you're actually angry and you use this opportunity to take a closer look at him. His face is relaxed and his expressions are open; whatever haunted him yesterday seems to be really gone now and his eyes are serene as he gives you a helpless smile.

"Alright, I'll stop teasing you." Xu Mo bends down to kiss your forehead. "Freshen up and come into the kitchen. Didn't you want to make a cake today?"

The distraction works instantly and you ask excitedly, "We have all the ingredients?"

He hums in affirmation and starts to take off his robe to put on a turtleneck sweater, but a strangled noise escapes your mouth when you see all the scratches on his back. Xu Mo glances over his shoulder at you, giving you a curious look, before comprehension dawns on his face and a smile curls on the corner of his lips, "Like I said, you were as cute as a kitten."

You cover your face and sink into the covers again. You feel him pat your leg, but you refuse to move and it's only after you hear him exit the bedroom and head into the kitchen that you dare to raise your head and leave the bed to wash up.

~~~

By the time you make your way to the kitchen, Xu Mo has already set out the ingredients needed to bake a cake and done preliminary preparations. You can't help but pause in the doorway and take in the sight of him though.

He's looking over a recipe on the tablet he placed on the counter and as the afternoon sunlight pours in through the wide windows, giving his white turtleneck a golden sheen, it catches on the dust motes in the air, filling the space with little glimmers. They contrast sharply with his ink-black hair, as if something celestial has spilled onto him, and with the warm light softening the graceful lines of his face you feel like you're seeing something not of this world.

For a second, you're afraid any noise you make will shatter this illusion and the immortal who has descended into your home will disappear.

"Are you planning to watch me do everything?"

Xu Mo's calm voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you see that he's looking over at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, the original cake's fate was because of you..." you joke as you walk over to lean against him, reassuring yourself with his solidity, and take a look at the recipe. "By the way, what happened to it?"

"I'm afraid it was unsalvageable." He accepts your weight naturally and shifts his position so that you're more comfortably pressed against his chest rather than his arm. "I believe today is my birthday though?"

"So you think you should get a free pass?"

"Isn't that the case?" He tilts his head down and his breath caresses your ear.

You clear your throat and fight to keep the laughter out of your words. "I guess we can split the work 50/50 then."

"Thank you for your lenience." You hear the smile in his voice. "Why don't we get started then."

The two of you enter an easy rhythm, pre-heating the oven, mixing the dry ingredients, and mixing the wet ingredients. Occasionally, either you or he will read out the next steps for the other person.

Soon enough, the cake enters the oven and you both switch over to making the frosting. It doesn't escape your attention that there's a variety of food coloring you're sure the kitchen didn't have before though, meaning he must have gone out in the morning to get these. You carefully make a few different shades of colors, already having a general idea about how you wanted to decorate his cake, but you still ask Xu Mo for his opinion on each color. However, he just leaves the ultimate decision to you.

Finally satisfied with everything you've prepared to decorate the cake when it's finished baking, you wipe the back of your hand across your forehead. Even though it's the end of autumn and the start of winter, the temperature in the house is warm and with the two of you in the kitchen, as well as the oven being on, it's actually a bit hot.

You turn to Xu Mo to ask him what he wants to do to pass the time until the cake is finished only to find that he's already looking at you, lips twitching.

"What? What is it?" You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously.

"Silly girl, you got frosting on yourself." He reaches out and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe at your forehead before showing you the purple frosting on it.

You make a startled noise and look at the back of your hand. It's only now that you remember you were testing different shades of purple on your hand because you couldn't decide on one.

Hearing him actually start to chuckle as he turns towards the sink, probably to wash his hand and grab a paper towel for you, you're struck with a mischievous urge and your hand shoots out. Xu Mo doesn't even flinch as you smear a streak of purple cream across his cheekbone though.

You giggle at your handiwork. "That's what you get for laughing at me."

But when he turns to stare at you in silence, you actually start to worry at having taken too much liberty with him. Maybe playing with food wasn't such a good idea. You open your mouth to apologize, only to shriek when he grabs you and rubs his cheek against yours, spreading the cream back to you.

He has an arm around your waist and a hand at the back of your head to prevent you from pulling away, but before long he stops smearing the cream on you and raises his head to press his forehead to yours. He tilts his head a little, touching the tip of his nose to yours and brushing his eyelashes against your skin, kissing you in every way but with his lips.

"I love you."

There's nothing special in his voice. No emphasis. No emotional intensity. It's just said between one breath and the next, as if it is something that is always hovering between the both of you and only now, through the power of words, has it been materialized into the open and given form.

"Mm, I love you too," you reply.

"Say it again." You feel his lips curve into a smile.

You blink with surprise at his request but answer it easily enough, "I love you."

"I love you as well," he replies immediately, except this time there's a tenderness that permeates every one of his words. "Again."

You hesitate, feeling that he's up to something, but he just brushes your noses together again and his lips skim yours as he breathes out, "I love you."

"I love you too," you unconsciously lower your voice to match his.

In this quiet kitchen, with the sunlight streaming in and creating a golden glow at the edge of your vision that isn't filled with Xu Mo, the world feels like it's shrunk to this tiny space between you two. Even breathing seems too loud for this moment.

"Again," he requests.

Your cheeks start to heat up as each repetition seems to add more weight to the words and you barely manage to whisper out an audible "I love you".

"And I love you."

The hand at the back of your head returns to cup your cheek and your eyes flutter shut as he touches his lips softly to yours. You feel him open his mouth, as if he's about to ask you to say these words again, but the ding of the oven interrupts him and shatters the atmosphere.

You jerk back at the loud noise and clear your throat in embarrassment. He sees your flustered appearance and smiles in resignation before turning to bring the cake out of the oven.

While he does this, you clean up the frosting on yourself at the sink and also dampen a paper towel so that, after Xu Mo sets down the cake on the counter to cool, you can reach up and clean the streaks of cream on his cheek. He bends down to make it easier for you to reach him and leans into your touch, closing his eyes and raising a hand to encircle your wrist.

Seeing this rare look of peace and defenselessnesss on his face, you can't resist sneaking a peck on his cheek along with a quick "I love you" after you wipe his face.

You spin around before he can open his eyes and busy yourself with grabbing the frosting to decorate the cake. Xu Mo laughs softly from behind you and then presses himself against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist, but he's content to leave the decorating to you and simply rests his chin on your shoulder to watch you work.

The cake is decorated in short order (and if you were going off of your memories of the cake you ordered from the bakery, well, that's your secret) and you present it to Xu Mo. "Ta-dah! What do you think?"

He hums contemplatively and the sound reverberates beside your ear, "Unique and it looks delicious."

"Are you making fun of my drawing skills?" You nudge him in mock outrage.

"Not at all. It's unique because you drew it with your own colors."

Your ears redden at the sincerity in his voice and you distract yourself by grabbing a fork and using it to split a small section of the cake off before you scoop it up and hold it out to Xu Mo. "Here, as the birthday boy, you get the first bite."

He accepts the forkful that you feed him.

"Happy birthday, Xu Mo," you say, beaming at him, and then you ask, "How does it taste?"

The only warning you get is the mischievous glimmer in his eyes seconds before he leans over and kisses you.

This year's cake is sweeter than any other cake you've eaten.

[knightofameris]

hokkaido coffee — akaashi keiji

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛: Neutral 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: nothing, just fluff 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1.3𝚔

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍: hokkaido coffee 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 Ding Tea  𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔!

⇽ 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 ◜𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚋𝚘𝚋𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚞◞ 

The quiet hum of the store accompanied you as you strolled through the back counter. Where there were drops of boba, grass jelly, popping boba, and anything else dropped among the counter, you promptly cleaned it up. Rush hour always seemed to make a mess of things, but might as well clean it now so that when you close up there’s less work. 

The night was going well. Although, that statement clearly infers that the night will soon erupt into chaos, that was not the case. In fact, it was one of the few nights you worked that you enjoyed. Rare, I know. 

But maybe it’s also because you know that it was every Wednesday night that the pretty boy would come in. You know it's just on your night as well, since your coworkers who worked the same shift as you on other days had no clue who you were talking about. Sure you would never talk to him or attempt to hit him up or him trying to hit you up but one can dream that this would be the slowburn, strangers to lovers, 20k, cafe AU but make it boba type of fanfic. 

The bell of the door rang the moment the song overhead transitioned to something akin to lofi with hints of old retro type of songs. It was suiting for the pretty face that walked in, head always in his books as he sipped on his drink or even when he’d be busy studying or working on sketches in his sketchbook. 

With it being just the two of you, save for maybe one or two customers and your one coworker preparing to clock out for the night, you spoke up with a bigger-than-usual smile, “The usual?” 

“Yes please, thank you,” he replies, a smile also evident with the way the corner of his lips perked up. He was wearing glasses tonight. It strongly fit with his college persona. Along with the evident eye bags under his eyes. 

You wonder how much coffee he drinks. 

He toyed around with the owl keychain on his bag as he waited for you to input the drink, his other hand already holding his card to give to you. 

“Hokkaido coffee,” you mutter to yourself then turn to look up at him and tell him the price. He promptly hands you his card. 

Handing back his card, you give him a soft smile, “It’ll be ready as soon as possible.” 

He thanks you again and leaves a more than generous tip. You’re sure to give him a curt bow, thanking him back. 

Gliding through the back, you promptly began preparing the drink, humming quietly to the music playing. Even joining when lyrics would pop up in the lofi. Unbeknownst to you, the pretty boy kept a watchful eye on you as you worked. He should be reading, but there was something just mesmerizing with the way you worked for something as simple as making a boba drink. Even if his drink didn’t hold boba. 

He had to make sure that he was reading his book before you called out his drink, so that you didn’t know he was staring. And when you did call it out, he looked up to see his drink sitting on the counter with you behind it, wearing a closed-eyed smile. 

With a curt nod, he stands up to grab it and although he wanted to have a small conversation with you, you already head off to clean up around the shop. 

“You sure you’ll be alright closing up shop by yourself?” Kiyoko asked, hanging up her apron. 

You nod, “Yeah! If it’s too much I’ll just tell Tanaka what I couldn’t get to since he’s working the morning shift tomorrow.” 

Kiyoko smiled apologetically at you. “Sorry, I totally forgot I had an early meeting for my group project tomorrow and I haven’t done my part yet.” 

You wave her off, “It’s totally fine, it’s not often you’re forgetful like this. Reminds me that you’re just human like the rest of us.” Kiyoko flushes red, giving you another nod with her head before telling you that she’ll have to head off now if she were to catch the train. 

With that, you were the only employee for the night with about an hour left to go. Your eyes scanned the shop, only the pretty boy was left to his own devices. A small rush of heat flowed up to your cheeks and you turned your head away quickly. It looked like he was falling asleep reading his book and it was just simply too cute. 

***

The hour passed by relatively quickly. No one else came in and you decided to just close up shop five minutes earlier than closing time; no one noticed. 

Except, you were stuck in a predicament.

Pretty boy had fallen asleep and you didn’t want to wake him up; he looked exhausted earlier. You stare at him from across the counter, trying to not look like a creep. Biting your lip, you debated waking him up. Wouldn’t it be a little bit awkward to wake him up because you were closing? 

You let out a slight groan in frustration. You’ll just let him sleep and wake him up once you’re done. 

Quietly, you began to put certain items away, doing the routine nightly clean up. Sweeping, mopping the floors, tucking in all the chairs, so on and so forth. Soon enough, you were in front of the cash register, ready to sign off and shut it down for the day after doing the cashing out. Your belongings sat on the counter beside you, the lights were all off except one, and you had already changed back into your casual clothes. 

You give the boy one last glance and then clocked out. Grabbing your things, you slowly walked over to the pretty boy and gently put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. 

“Hey,” you say softly. He let out a groan, his glasses that were pushed up to his forehead fell back down on his face comedically when he looked up. His book had long closed from falling asleep and his eyes widened as he’s aware of the state of the shop. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I keep you? I didn’t mean to get in the way,” he slightly panics, feeling bad for being a bother and quickly shoves his things in his bag. He didn’t even finish his drink. 

You shake your head, “No, it’s alright. You looked tired and today was one of the calmer nights anyway.” 

He stands up, looking a little sheepish as he places his bag on his shoulder, the drink in his one hand. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Are you heading towards the train station?” You nod and he smiles. “I’ll walk you.” 

“No, you don’t have to! I don’t even know your name.” 

“Akaashi Keiji, and it’s the least I can do.” When your name leaves his lips, you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched in your lungs. It sounded ethereal, like an angel graced your presence. He motions for you to lead the way, considering employees usually left through the back. 

You frown, “How’d you know my name?” Slowly heading towards the back, turning off the last light and soon the moonlight donned the two of you. You were acutely aware of his presence behind you as you left the shop, the ‘Ding Tea’ neon sign flickering before turning dark completely. 

“Your name tag,” Akaashi answers simply. “Thank you, again, by the way. I don’t usually fall asleep anywhere like that.” He seemed a little embarrassed, but lucky for him it was just dark enough out that you couldn’t see the blush he wore. 

“It’s alright, it happens to the best of us. Thanks for walking with me, Akaashi-san.” 

Perhaps this was the strangers to lovers fanfic that waited for you. Who knows, only time will tell.

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗!

[wocfics]

Broken Record 3

Part 3

Arranged Marriage Series

Masterlist

MYG x Poc Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, THE SMUT IS NOW HERE. (Tongue technology activated)

Word Count: 6k

You had been walking on eggshells the past couple of months around Yoongi. Since you had been in such high spirits lately, you got a little too excited to bring Yoongi an Americano to his home studio and without thinking, it slipped from your hands and landed all over his equipment, causing his very expensive recording table to short circuit and die out. He was lucky he saved everything onto his laptop but shouted at you when it happened. You’d never heard someone’s voice so loud before, let alone his. You both knew it was an accident but when he yelled ‘GET THE FUCK OUT!’ at the top of his lungs, you froze up and quickly ran out of the studio with tears in your eyes.

Your mood was up and down since then. Trying to do things to cheer him up like make his favorite foods or replace the sheet masks you used up the month before that were his but he didn’t mind you taking them. 

Now sitting in the living room on your couch with your laptop on your lap, you looked up different recording tables, chewing on your bottom lip until you came across one identical to the one he had and looked at the price. Holy shit! It was definitely worth replacement since you were the one who screwed it all up so you purchased it without thinking twice and typed in all of your information and even got a protection plan on it as well. 

There weren’t many words exchanged between the two of you, only one of you saying if you were heading out or what you wanted to eat. He didn’t even hug you anymore and you were starting to get a little depressed from the lack of skin ship that you were getting used to. You kept to your side of the bed and often wondered if he even liked you anymore. You were bigger than he was, maybe you could start on that diet you saw some girls doing a couple of weeks ago. Or maybe head to the nearest plastic surgeon to get a few pounds lifted off of you.

Sitting behind the counter of your music shop, dressed in ripped jeans and a black button up blouse, you looked down at your phone when it buzzed, notifying you that you received a new email. Glancing around the store, it was empty for now, you looked over the email and saw that the recording table was delivered and mentally cursed at yourself. You wanted it to be a surprise for Yoongi and today was his day off. Hopefully he wasn’t home by the time you got there so you could set it up for him. You quickly sent him a text, seeing if he was home. He read it and the three little bubbles that showed he was typing came into view before he simply sent a thumbs down emoji. 

After helping a few people in the store and ringing up their items, you closed the register and the store before heading home and kicking your shoes off by the door after seeing the boxes outside of it. You pulled everything in and down to the studio, taking off your blouse and putting it on the back of the computer chair, leaving you in a tank top. You pulled up your hair and began opening the boxes and reading the instructions on how to put everything together. This was gonna take a while.

The front door opened and Yoongi walked in, seeing your shoes on the side, he kicked off his slides and looked around for you but didn’t seem to find you until he heard something moving around and thud down in the studio. Sighing heavily to himself, he took a deep breath before heading down, wondering what it is that you had broken now. He was looking for a replacement for his table but the last one was sold out days ago and he didn’t know when the same one would be available. He knows you didn’t ruin it all on purpose so he took the day to spend time with Hobi, talking over the situation and wondering what to do. He had to apologize for sure, not wanting to make you upset given your vulnerable state. It was wrong to ignore you all this time and he could see that you were trying to make it up to him.

When he opened the studio door and saw you plugging in something, the boxes across the room, he blinked a few times before clearing his throat. You turned around, standing up quickly and fixing your hair. 

“Um, hi...uh, I-I wanted to clean everything up first before you got back but I found you a new recording table. It’s the exact same one and I set it up by myself, I even got a warranty on it and everything. I also got a smaller table to go on the side just in case I do ever bring you another coffee so it won’t spill all over your com-” You were cut off by his lips pressing into yours. It was nice for him to finally kiss you. You had tried to kiss him before but he kept saying he wasn’t ready and you weren’t one to pressure anyone. They felt right against your pouty ones, molding together, one hand on your waist and the other one on the back of your neck. Your hands were gripping the front of his shirt, your lips chasing after his when he pulled away and looked down at you. 

You stared up at him, waiting for him to say anything. “I’ve been looking for two days for this table, trying to figure out why it was unavailable. Thank you..Y/N. You didn’t have to buy this for me.” He moved his hands to cup your face, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks before pressing another kiss into your lips. He was going to end up kissing you silly at this point. “I’m sorry for ruining the last one.” You finally spoke, your body felt like pudding under his touch. His black hair was pulled away from his eyes and he couldn’t help the gummy smile that appeared on his face. “I should be apologizing to you. I was an asshole for yelling at you the way I did. I never meant to hurt your feelings, especially with everything going on with you.” He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head in the process. 

“Are you hungry?” You asked after helping with clearing out the boxes and taking them to the front door. Yoongi handed you your shirt and you took it, draping it over your shoulder. He nodded. “We can wait. I need a shower first.” He pulled his shirt over his head while walking into the bedroom and tossing it into the dirty laundry bin. You made your way into the kitchen, prepping some steaks and setting them in a bowl to marinate in the fridge. 

You’re well aware that you haven’t had sex in a very long time and you haven’t with Yoongi yet. Neither of you made a move on each other just yet and you wondered why he wasn’t trying to. Part of you figured it was because of how you looked and another part of you wondered if maybe he was seeing someone else, even before the two of you got married. You didn’t want to speak on it but at least he kissed you right? It was a start anyways. Did he find you attractive? He never complimented any of your outfits or your hair for that matter. Maybe he was just busy and tired. 

You sat on the edge of your shared bed, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom so that you could jump in before starting on dinner. Once the shower turned off, you watched him walk out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and water dripping from his hair. You could tell he was gaining some muscle weight but you said nothing. Often, you’d catch yourself staring too long like you were right now, blinking and looking away. “I’ll be right out to get started on dinner.” You passed by him and into the bathroom. You hopped into the shower, sighing heavily as the hot water hit your skin. Yoongi chuckled to himself in the bedroom before changing into his pajamas. 

It was a long time coming for Yoongi to just even kiss you. You had been “married” for six months although you couldn’t blame him, jumping right into someone’s life without knowing anything about them was sudden on both ends. Every part of you wanted this to work with him, you were still figuring each other out after all. 

Not wanting to spend too much time in the shower, you washed and did your skincare routine before heading into the bedroom. You could hear music from the kitchen and figured Yoongi plugged up his phone to the home speaker, playing some slow jams while you finished getting ready, opting for the blue silk pajama shorts and matching tank top.

Once your hair was clipped up, you headed into the kitchen to take everything from the fridge, glancing over at Yoongi who was now sitting at the island, pouring wine into two glasses. 

“What’s for dinner?” He asked, grabbing one of the glasses and taking a sip from it, smacking his lips together and glancing up at you. You missed his eyes scanning over your body while you grabbed various pots and pans. 

“Steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, asparagus and I made a cheesecake yesterday with a mango drizzle.” You spoke while heating up the pan and looking over at him. “What? Is there something on my face?” You lightly touched your face and dropped your hands when you saw him laughing and shaking his hand while walking over to you with the other glass of wine in his hand for you. You grabbed it, thanking him and took a sip before raising your eyebrows. 

“It’s nothing you just...it’s nothing. I like the pajamas.” 

He moved next to you, deciding to help with cooking. This night was going to be interesting.

Two bottles of wine later, you sat at the table with him, talking about the many customers you got on a daily basis while he told you about filming the Run BTS episodes. 

“There’s always this really cute couple that comes in and since I have a little cafe they get black coffee with two scoops of sugar and always request jazz. They dance and always leave a big tip and it’s the cutest thing ever.” 

Your entire face was hot from the wine getting to you but you weren’t drunk by any means. Yoongi’s cheeks were red but by now he was just eating at the last bits of his slice of cheesecake while you spoke.

“Maybe we’ll be like that someday. When our kids are moved out and we stay in the city and Min Holly will be old with us too.” 

Your eyes were low while you stared at him. He really wanted children with you? Maybe you were doing something right after all. “Our kids will be cute. I hope they look like you.” You confessed, finishing the rest of the wine in your glass and standing up from your seat, stretching and yawning. “They’ll look like both of us. You’re beautiful Y/N, don’t forget that.” He put the dishes in the sink, grabbing your hand afterwards and turning to pull you into your bedroom after turning out the lights. 

“Yoongi...I’m sorry for breaking your recording table, I know with everything going on with me that I have these manic episodes and I get so overly excited that sometimes I don’t realize that the good that I think I’m doing might be something bad-” 

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it and I shouldn’t have yelled. It was an accident and it’s fixed now. Everything’s saved on my computer anyways so it’s okay.” 

You both brushed your teeth and you left Yoongi to do his skincare routine.

Taking down your hair, you walked over to your dresser and put your clip away, listening to Yoongi pull the blanket back on the bed and sit down on the edge of it. Although he had worked earlier in the day, finishing up some touches on his new album, he was exhausted. Everything was finalized and he wanted to release it tonight and have a Vlive with you tomorrow. 

Putting on your black satin bonnet, you turned out the light and crawled into bed next to him, facing the ceiling. He let out a loud sigh and glanced over at you. “My album release is tomorrow. If you’re not bust later, I’d like to do a Vlive with you later on and have a few drinks.” He grabbed your hand under the blanket and intertwined his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumbs against the top of your hand. You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip and looking at him. “I’d love that. I’m excited to hear it. I’ve only heard little beats but I know it’s gonna be great.” 

You both turned towards each other and he pulled you closer to him, putting your leg over his hip before leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but lean in, capturing his lips again and resting your hand on the back of his neck. His tongue snaked between your lips, causing you to moan into his mouth as his wet appendage tangled with yours. His one hand resting against your leg, moved up and around to grip your ass, kneading the soft flesh. Pulling you on top of him, you panicked for a second, ready to move off of him but he held you there, pulling away front our lips to look at you. “I don’t break that easily. It’s okay.” His hands holding onto your hips and moving your now wet clothed core against the tent in his pants. Leaning back down to kiss him, you moved your lips down to his neck, careful not to leave any lingering marks since he was going live tomorrow. 

Lifting his shirt over his head, you kissed his chest, licking one of his nipples which made him tense up a little before looking down at you as you stared at him through your lashes. Sliding down further, his hands slipping away from your body, you took off your bonnet and kissed down his stomach until you got to his shorts, nipping at his hips before looking up at him. “Let me take care of you.” You whispered. He groaned in response and lifted his hips to remove his shorts, his cock standing at full attention now that you were eye to eye with it.

His member was perfect in every way, not too long and not too wide and the small bead of precum dripping from the tip made your mouth water for it to be inside of your mouth. Gripping it in your hand, you swiped your thumb over the tip, spreading the precum over the rest of his cock before licking one stripe from the base to the tip, earning a deep groan from him before you wrapped your lips around him and closed your eyes.

His hand immediately went to your hair and kept it out of your face as he looked down at you. Deep brown eyes staring right back into his eyes as you looked up at him before closing your eyes once more and began to suck on his tip, setting an even pace as you slowly took more and more of him into your mouth. 

Taking all of him into your mouth until your forehead was now touching his lower stomach, you heard him sigh heavily and grip your hair a little tighter. His tip hitting the back of your throat as you began moving your head up and down. 

“Fuck, Y/N..” He growled, his head falling back into the pillow as his hands began to move your head up and down on his dick faster, his hips thrusting slightly into your mouth, making you moan. The vibrations from your throat shooting into his cock and making him moan from the feeling. You hand moved down to cup his balls, massaging them in your hand as he used both of his hands to thrust up into your mouth quickly, saliva dripping down from your mouth and the lewd sounds coming from him abusing your throat as well as the quiet gagging coming from you had you pressing your thighs together together.

“That’s it baby, just like that...fuck, you like that?” 

He stared down at you, loving his view of tears spilling over your cheeks as you continued your ministrations, pushing your head down and swallowing all of his length before coming back up and swirling your tongue over the tip, him gasping in the process. 

“I like when you fuck my throat..” You licked your lips before going back to swallowing his cock again, letting him fuck into your throat as he tossed his head back. It was sloppy the way your saliva was dripping down your chin and onto the bed as his thrusting became faster and sloppier, his breath catching in his throat. “I’m gonna cum, fuck, your mouth feels so good.” He grunted. Cupping his balls again, you squeezed and massaged them again, his breath catching in his throat before he grunted loudly as his release came, coating the back of your throat in his seed, your lips suctioning onto him and swallowing every bit of him as he stilled and moaned over and over until it became to much and he lifted your head off of him. 

Sitting up, you licked your lips and shifted slightly since there was now a wetness between your legs from how turned on you got from him. Kissing up his stomach, you kissed him before looking down at him. “Better?” You asked and he smiled that beautiful gummy smile at you before turning over on top of you and kissing you again. 

He kissed your neck, lifting up your shirt and paused when his alarm went off on his phone for him to release his album. He sighed heavily and pecked your lips before moving off of you and grabbing his phone, typing a few things and pressing a few buttons before smiling at his screen.

It was good that he was distracted, you got up from the bed which caused him to turn to you. “Where are you going?” He asked. You pointed to the bathroom and disappeared behind the door, cleaning yourself up before returning to the room where he laid on the bed, his phone on the nightstand and his eyes closed. 

Laying back down, you turned your back towards him in which he turned on his side and pulled you closer, kissing your shoulder and sighing. You wanted it to be about him, but something inside you wanted to continue things more in the bedroom with him, this was the first time you were even this intimate with each other but you were happy that he was able to let you make him feel good. You were used to giving pleasure anyways but at least you could do it for someone you were now married to. 

💮

Coming home late was exhausting, especially when Yoongi knew he had to be up early the following day but for some reason, he still had some energy left. Practice finished early so he figured he'd ask Jin to help him out with something afterwards. It was hard for him to be the romantic type, with not having that many relationships after becoming an idol. He figured Jin was the most charismatic and had a good eye for jewelry. 

You were laying across the bed in pajama pants and a bralette, scrolling through your phone while Holly laid at the foot of the bed asleep from the walk you two went on after you came home from getting your hair braided in town. Yoongi walked into the kitchen, getting a cup of water and heating up his food that you left for him. 

While his food was heating up, he walked into the bedroom and cleared his throat, you looking over your shoulder at him before sitting up and smiling. “How was practice?” You grabbed the giant shirt from the bed and quickly slipped it on before standing up, causing Holly to jump off the bed and walk past Yoongi into the living room, probably wanting more sleep. 

“It was good. Come in the kitchen, I wanna show you something...I like the braids.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him into the kitchen. He took his food from the microwave and sat it at the island. You took a seat, your eyes moving to look up at him as he came to stand between your legs and kiss you, cupping your cheeks. You can taste the bitterness of coffee that he had throughout the day and he tasted the mint flavored toothpaste. He pulled away, and sat down to start eating his dinner. 

“How was Holly? Did you open the store today?” He asked, biting into the giant piece of broccoli. 

“He was fine, we went for a walk. Yes and no, I opened it for a few hours before closing to go to my hair appointment since it was a bit of a drive.” You moved the box braid that was falling in your face to the side and watched him while he nodded and devoured his food. You passed him his water and he hummed before digging into his pocket and turning to face you.

“Give me your left hand.” He placed the box on the counter and you gasped, staring at it and then staring at him before quickly giving him your freshly manicured hand. He opened the box which revealed a black diamond ring with white diamond throughout the band, illuminating the darkness of the ring. “I wanna make sure this fits.” He took it out and slid it onto your ring finger. 

How smooth of him. You loved the way it was sparkling in the kitchen light, smiling at it before looking at him and leaning over to kiss him. “I love it. It’s beautiful.” You mumbled against his lips before pulling away and looking down at the rock on your finger again. “Just like you, Y/N. I want you to know that. When you’re upset or even happy, I want you to know that you’re beautiful. I’m not very good at this whole romantic thing but I want to try with you and to let you know that I’m here.” He drank more of his water before kissing the back of your hand. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, fluttering at his confession to always be there for you. That’s all you’ve ever wanted from anyone. It may not have worked out the way you pictured it but you were thankful for him, especially over the past couple of months you spent with him. 

“Go in the room, I’m gonna clean up and shower and I’ll meet you.” Standing from his seat, he grabbed his plate and cup and went to the sink to clean them. You walked back into the room, rubbing over the ring while sitting on the edge of the bed. This was real and he really loved you. He might not have said it yet but you could feel it. 

He was it for you. You had your issues and he had his, but he put his aside to help you with yours and for that, you couldn’t have been more thankful. Dealing with your Bipolar Disorder alone was the toughest obstacle in life you ever had to face and now, someone was willing to help you through it and let you know that they were there for you. You want to get help, especially if the first five years of you two being married worked out. You wanted to give him children one day but you wanted to be stable first. You owed it to yourself and now to Yoongi, who has been calm with you even if he does get frustrated with your moods sometimes. 

He walked into the bathroom while you made up the bed and looked over yourself in the full length mirror. Turning your body from side to side. You were making progress with your weight, you definitely made sure you weren’t gaining another pound more. You had a great shape, but the extra weight made you a little insecure sometimes. You had a few tattoos here and there all over your body which Yoongi did point out that he liked. 

You didn’t realize how long you were staring in the mirror until Yoongi walked back into the room with a pair of boxers on, staring at you from his side of the bed. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He plugged up his phone to charge while waiting for you to answer. 

Turning from the mirror, you shook your head and climbed into bed next to him. “I was just…” You chewed on your lower lip for a second, causing him to tsk and lean over to place a soft kiss against your lips. “You look fine. I told you to stop that.” He was referring to you staring too hard at yourself in the mirror. He caught you doing it a few times and after a while he had to speak up about it.

“I can’t help it. I’m trying.” You huffed and turned to turn off the light. Climbing under the blankets after tying your braids up and laying down. Yoongi joins you and presses his face into the back of your neck, pressing small kisses to your skin. You closed your eyes at the feeling, his lips moving to the side of your neck. His hands moved up and down your waist, sliding down to grip your thigh. 

“Look at me.” He whispered.

You turned around slowly, your eyes meeting his. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip and connected your lips together. Slowly rolling on top of you to settle his lower body between your legs, he parted your lips with his tongue, a groan leaving both of you. The kiss went from sweet to hunger, your body heating up and our hips bucking when he moved his hips into yours. Your hands resting on his shoulders, your fingernails raking through his wheat colored hair. 

His lips moved along your jaw, neck and chest, moving down until he sucked one nipple into his mouth, his thumb and index pulling and pinching the other. Your breathing picked up, groaning as he circled your nipple with his tongue before doing the same with the other until he was moving his lips across your stomach. He pulled off both your pajama bottoms and panties, tossing them on the floor along with the blanket. Your eyes shot open when he kissed between your thighs, the panic setting in before you closed your legs, his head moving up before you crushed him with your thighs. 

He glared at you, taking hold of your knees and forcing your legs apart. “Keep them open, baby…” He kisses the inside of your thigh again and it shoots right to your throbbing pussy. 

“You don’t have to-holy fuck.” You moaned as he licked up from your entrance to your clit, chuckling at your reaction. 

“Realx, this is my specialty. Let me take you on a trip, jagiya.” His tongue circled your clit while you glanced down at him. Your hands now hold onto the sheets since the blanket was thrown off the bed. You thank the heavens your door was closed, knowing Holly would just run in and ruin everything by climbing onto the bed. 

Yoongi wrapped his arms around your thighs, making sure they stayed open as he buried his face in you, prodding his tongue inside of you and going back to suckling on your bundle of nerves. 

You tossed your head back, your back arching as sweet moans fell from your lips, hands moving to grip his hair, not too tight but enough for him to moan, the vibrations going straight to your core and aiding in getting you closer to your peak. 

“So sweet, my sweet jagiya...dripping for me...you taste so good baby.” He fucked you with his tongue, his thumb moving to rub circles over your clit. Your eyes rolled back, hips rolling into his mouth. 

“I’m gonna cum...please please please…”

Your grip on his hair became a little tighter which made him work harder. He rubbed two fingers against your pussy lips, coating them in your essence before sliding them inside of you and wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, flicking his tongue against while his fingers curved inside of you, pumping fast while he kept his cat-like eyes on you, groaning every time your walls clenched around his fingers. 

Your legs trembled, begging him to keep going until you snapped and went still as your orgasm washed over you, causing you to lose sight for a few seconds as he removed his fingers and continued to lick up the mess you made, his tongue still moving inside of you and over your sensitive and swollen clit. His one hand keeping your legs open. 

Kissing back up your body he waited for you to come down from your high before kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He quickly pulled down his boxers, pulling away from you to turn you around. 

“On your knees baby…” He rubbed his hands over your hips as you got onto your knees, resting on your elbows. He dick, hard and ready, sliding through your folds to make it easier for him to slide into you. 

Lining himself up at your entrance, he slowly pulled you back on his length, licking his lips as your hole swallowed every single inch of him. 

“Please fuck me…” You begged, already pushing your hips back and bringing them forward. He growled, gripping your hips harder and set a moderate pace, thrusting his hips into you, pushing your legs further apart. He spread your ass cheeks apart, breathing heavily as he watched where you were connected. 

“You gonna cum again, huh? Gonna make a big mess for me?” He snapped his hips harder into you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your walls tightening around him as he pushed deeper into you. You buried your face into the mattress, moaning and whining as you got thrust forward and pulled back. 

He picked up speed, pistoning his hips into you, causing you both to let out incoherent noises, his nails digging into your soft flesh. 

“Fuck...I’m gonna cum...you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned. 

Your legs trembled once more, the tight feeling in your stomach coming back as you lifted your head up and grunted into your arms that were folded in front of you. Feeling your orgasm hit you for the second time, you felt your legs collapsing on you, trying to find the strength to hold on as Yoongi’s hips stuttered until he released, coating your walls. He pulled out, kissing the middle of your back and watching as his seed slid down your thighs. He pressed a kiss to your ass cheek before getting off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. 

You laid down on your stomach, gasping when you felt him press a warm cloth to your sensitive area to wipe you up, he cleaned your inner thighs as well before taking the cloth back into the bathroom and coming back to join you on the bed. He picked up the blanket and put it around you both, pulling you onto his chest. 

“We’ll change the sheets tomorrow.” He breathed, kissing your forehead and tilting your chin up to kiss you. 

You sighed against his lips, caressing the side of his face. It felt perfect with him. You know you weren’t perfect and you didn’t try to be, but with Yoongi, it felt perfect. 

💮

“Look at that thing, it’s beautiful!” Jungkook’s wife gasped, holding your hand up and stared at the onyx diamond sitting on it. “It’s so pretty and classy.” She looked at you with a big smile. “I really like it. I can’t believe we all got rings that are the same color as their mics.” You looked down at her purple ring, smiling. 

She put a finger up to your lips and nodded towards Namjoon’s wife who was holding her baby. “Namjoon didn’t get her one yet...maybe we should ask the boys to help him?” She asked and you nodded. 

“I can smell the tension between them. Everyone can. Hobi and his wife said they heard them arguing a few times since they live next to each other. How can they argue when they have that sweet little baby?” She said. You just listened and nodded, watching Joon’s wife play with her daughter, smiling and talking to her. 

You wanted that one day. “Are you guys thinking about having one?” She asked. You looked at her and smiled. “Not right now, maybe later on down the road.” You applied more lip gloss your lips. 

“Same here. Kookie and I are still pretty young so we’re gonna wait too. With comebacks and concerts, plus he just wants to enjoy his video games for now.” She chuckled until she felt Jungkook scoop her up from behind and carry her over to the shoot. 

Yoongi took your lip gloss from you and put it in his pocket. “Anymore and your lips are gonna look like they’re melting off. What were you two talking about?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the photo set. “Babies. About how we’re gonna wait to have one, she said so too. Oh, Yoongi?” You lowered your voice.

He raised his eyebrows at you. You looked around before moving closer to him. “You should talk to Namjoon. Moon (Joon’s wife’s nickname) is the only one without a ring and Star (Hobi’s wife) said her and Hoseok can hear them arguing. Maybe you can help him out?” You asked. 

He nodded and kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll talk to him soon. I talked to him a few days ago but maybe me and Hobi’s advice hasn’t kicked in yet.”

After the shoot, everyone decided to have dinner together before parting ways. You returned home, Holly back at Yoongi’s brother’s house for the week. You yawned and turned around to Yoongi, placing your arms around his neck. He buries his face into your neck and sighs heavily. “I’m sleepy. Can we sleep?” He asked. You kissed the side of his head and giggled. “I’m sleepy too. Come on, let’s get some sleep.” It’s your turn to kiss the back of his hand before walking into the room with him.

After you both shower and change into pajamas, you cuddle up to him and run your fingers through his hair. “I start my therapy soon. I found a really nice lady in the city.” You spoke softly, him turning his head to look down at you on his chest. “You want me to go with you?” He asked, rubbing your back under your tank top. 

“Only if you want to, I don’t wanna keep you from work but I’ll be okay.”

“I’m coming with you.” He spoke up. You smiled and looked up at him. 

“Okay...thank you.” You punished up to kiss him and tugged on his lower lip. He sighed and turned over on top of you. 

He nipped at your bottom lip and kissed you again. “Look at what you started. Now it’s gonna be a long night for the both of us.” 

You smirked up at him and bit your lip. 

“It’s a good thing you have no work tomorrow.”

“But the V Live..”

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 18)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, angst

-------

Daphne sat in a plush chair in front of a large solid wood desk. She was silent as she watched across to Mrs Grimes who was pouring over all of the evidence with silent rage. She'd gone through the file and was now on her fancy ass computer looking at the billion pictures she'd found. One of the large tinted windows in the room was cracked open, birds chirping from outside as a nice breeze came in. The weather was quite warm that day, the sun shining brightly as spring was well under way. Daphne had on a strappy black maxi dress with thigh high slits, her boots on and her deep purple hair was in two French braids. The most effort she'd put into her hair in a while. The nice weather had encouraged her to make an effort. 

She picked at her black chipped nails as she patiently waited for the older woman to look through all of the evidence. The silence was deafening and Daphne kept finding her thoughts drifting off. It had been two days since she'd last seen any of her new friends and Karen's words kept itching at her brain before she opted to ignore them. She’d had a few texts from Foggy checking in with her and thankfully she hadn't seen or heard from Matt at all. It was peaceful.

"That rat bastard! He's making a mockery of me, he's not even hiding it!" Mrs Grimes finally snapped. Daphne had sensed it was coming. She chose not to respond, not knowing what to say. Usually she would say a few mildly comforting words to her clients but Mrs Grimes wasn't heartbroken, she was just pissed at the blatant disrespect. Daphne couldn't blame her. Mrs Grimes stood abruptly, stalking over to the cabinet and pouring some drinks. She didn't ask Daphne, but as the glass full of alcohol that was no doubt the same price as a month of rent was placed in front of her, she didn't argue as she took a large pull from it. It was smoother than what she was used to but she wasn’t surprised since this wasn't the bottom shelf shit she was used to.

Mrs Grimes sat back down gracefully despite her building anger. She took a sip of her drink and looked like she was thinking things over. Daphne just waited patiently as she enjoyed her moment with the fancy scotch.

"I want revenge," the older woman said after a moment. Her voice was calm like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh?" Daphne quirked her brows, curious where this was going. 

"He's making a fool of me and blatantly so. I want a divorce but there’s also another way to hurt him," Mrs Grimes mused softly. Daphne settled deeper into the chair, her curiosity burning.

"My husband has always kept the business from me, said I didn't need to be involved. But over the many years with him I've learned some things and he has no idea," she paused to take another sip of her drink. 

"My husband is a man in power. His job allows him access to a lot of private client information that in the wrong hands would be… catastrophic. But he's also a greedy leech, and I found out a few years ago that the Italian mob had been paying him. He's been selling clients information to them. Some of them would go bankrupt and others...well they just vanished, never to be seen of again. I think we're smart enough women to figure out where they went," she muttered tensely. The bottom of the Hudson no doubt. 

"Why are you telling me this?" Daphne asked bluntly. Mrs Grimes chuckled at her, seemingly enjoying the no nonsense approach Daphne often had.

"He's a criminal, assisting worse criminals to boot. I could take him down, get him locked away. His name would be tarnished and he'd have nothing left. After I divorced him obviously," she said carefully.

"Do you have proof?" Daphne enquired. Honestly, this was pretty big. The kind of thing Brett would like to hear. Mr Grimes would know all kinds of information they could use to try and get the Italians.

Mrs Grimes heaved a sigh and crossed a leg over the other.

"Not here. We have another house, he's stayed there more and more over the years and now I rarely see him. That's where he'd keep it all, in his study," she explained. Daphne pursed her lips. Another house? These fucking people.

"Can't you go and get it?" She asked pointedly. They couldn't do anything without that information and sending the cops to go and search would be useless. They'd need a warrant and she knew that would be difficult when it came to a powerful and wealthy man like Mr Grimes, who could easily pay people to sweep it all away. 

"Can I be frank with you, Ms Weaver?" She asked seriously. Daphne nodded, as if they'd been anything but during this unexpected conversation. 

"He's already taken the other house over. He has security and if I turned up they'd send me away. They have no respect. That's how I know where all his shady business goes down because I'm forbidden to go in there. I think he knows I know something. And I worry if I tried to force my way in, it wouldn't end well for me. All he'd need to do is say the word to the criminals he associates with and I'll be gone," she muttered bitterly. It did sound promising though that there was something in the other house worth hiding from his wife.

"How do we get it then? You're forbidden and it's heavily guarded, there'll be no chance," Daphne sighed. 

"That's where you come in," the older woman grinned. Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and groan. Of course it was.

"My husband is throwing a ball next week, I'm not invited of course, but it's given us a way to get you in. It's mostly upper-class, no doubt some of the Italians, god knows who else. I can pull some strings, get you on the guest list. You can just say you're from a well-off family, no one will really care. But once you're in, you can try to get to his study and get what we need," she explained. Daphne was mildly impressed. It was a sneaky plan. But she also didn't like her part in it.

She stayed silent for a moment as she ran through the options. It was the only plan really, they didn't have another. She gave no shits about Mrs Grimes petty revenge on her husband but she did care about the Italians and this was another way in. That was the only reason why she was considering something like this when it could very seriously go ass upwards. Mrs Grimes watched her carefully as she mulled it over in her head.

"I know it's dangerous, which is precisely why I'm not turning up there. I will pay you handsomely for doing this and I know you can see it through," she pressed on. She scribbled something down on a piece of paper before sliding it to her. Daphne's eyes bugged out of her head for a moment as she saw how much the woman was going to pay her. Maybe it wasn't much since this was her life on the line if things went wrong but $8000 was a huge amount of money. She didn't really need it. She wasn't one for material things and she was fine how she was. She had a steady income that paid her well. She thought back to something Karen had said in passing the night she came over and it was similar to something Foggy had complained about numerous times to her. 

Daphne blew out a sigh, downing the rest of her drink.

"I have a counter offer," she proposed, a stern look on her face. Mrs Grimes nodded to hear it.

"I'm risking my ass by going in there. I have history with the Italians and one slip up, I'm bleeding among sharks. If I do this for you, then when you get the divorce, you hire Nelson and Murdock for it. You pay them the same amount you were going to pay me. And if you like their services, which I'm sure you will, you'll recommend them to your friends. But just so you know, they won't represent genuinely bad people, so be careful who you send there," she gave the older woman an expectant look unsure of what she should say. 

"I know you would have gone to some fancy ass lawyer to get it done but these guys are good and they care about their job. So much so that most of the time they take on cases for barely any money or none at all. They need that money and you need the evidence. That's my only offer," she added with a stern face. She could have taken it for herself, but why? She didn't care about it. But Foggy, Karen and even reluctantly Matt did care. She hated how despondent Foggy would get when he worried about the firm. How they were in the negatives. How he wasn't sure how much longer they'd be able to stay open. They couldn't even afford to pay Karen which is what led her to the Bulletin in the first place. And while she didn't like Matt and she'd never seen him or Foggy in action, she'd heard nothing but great things and praise about them at the station. Not everyone had money for a decent attorney, but that didn't matter to them. Everyone deserved that help. She had a chance to help with that and she was running with it. 

"Deal," Mrs Grimes settled with a nod. Daphne was a little shocked by how easy it was but then again she guessed she really wanted to nail her husband to the wall. She leaned over shaking hands with her before she grabbed her backpack and got ready to leave.

"Here. This is what I owe you from the investigation you already did. And I’ll pay for you to get a dress for the ball so you don’t stand out too much," she handed her $1000 in cash and Daphne stuffed it into her bag, watching as the woman scribbled something down on a small piece of paper. 

"I'd recommend these stores. Tell them I sent you in and it’ll be taken care of. It's a very grand affair, tell them it's a ball and they'll pick some things for you to try. I'll also put you down with a plus one on the guestlist. It might be a little less… conspicuous if you took someone with you," she murmured, gesturing to Daphne's purple hair. She squinted in slight offense but took the piece of paper anyway and put it in her hoodie pocket. 

Once again the driver had been instructed to take her home. She opted for him to drop her off down the street. Now she knew the Italians were involved in this somehow, she didn't want to chance people knowing where she lived. She didn't know if Mr Grimes was having his wife monitored or not. When she did finally arrive home, she was hot and tired. The sun was glaring through her large window by the fire escape and she opened it letting in some air since she didn't have AC. She kicked off her boots and lay on her back on the couch. She tried to run through how the night at the ball would go but there were far too many variables. She just had to hope for the best. It should be busy and filled with self important people who wouldn't think about looking into who she was too closely. Once they were all distracted, she could slip away and leave, hopefully without incident. 

She thought back to Mrs Grimes' advice on bringing someone and she grumbled. It would make her look less noticeable and if she was alone there was every chance guys may approach her to talk. She wanted to slip under the radar as much as possible. Having a date would fix that but she had no one. She wouldn't ask Foggy. Not only because he was in a relationship and it was weird even as friends, but because of how dangerous it was. She refused to ask Brett. She decided not to tell him about the intel she had until she got the proof. He wouldn't approve of her doing this and if the cops got involved prematurely then the evidence would get destroyed. Mrs Grimes would also most likely disappear and she refused to have the death of another client weigh on her conscience. 

The only person that kept coming to mind was Matt and she hated it. He would be perfect. The unassuming blind man, no one would suspect them. He also had his super senses that would prove to be incredibly useful and if things got hairy she knew he'd have her back. It would risk him exposing himself if it really came to it and he had to fight but that was the worst case scenario. She really just didn't want to speak to him though. The last time they spoke had really pissed her off and she'd been enjoying the peace of him not being around lately. Did she really want to disrupt that? As useful as he would be by her side, she didn't want to do that to herself. They'd have to blend in as a couple, dancing and being nice to each other. She didn't need the headache. 

She came to the conclusion she was better off going on her own and saving herself future annoyance when it came to the vigilante. She lay on her sofa for a little while just too tired to move. She wasn't sleeping much at all and she'd found herself going to Fogwell's gym everyday the last two days to take her frustration out on the punching bag. She always made sure to go at a time when Matt didn't tend to go so she didn't run into him. She wondered how long it would be before she burnt herself out completely.

A rhythmic knock sounded at her door that let her know it was Foggy. He usually did a weird little knock when he came to see her.

"Come in," she called from where she lay. The door opened and she glanced at the door as Foggy walked in.

"What is this? You're just too lazy to open the door and greet me now? That hurts," he pouted. She laughed but made no move to get up as he waltzed over and flopped into the armchair. 

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr Nelson?" She yawned softly into her hand.

"A weird thing just happened. We got a phone call from a Mrs Grimes, a real wealthy woman. She asks us to help her with her divorce. Her husband's a cheat and into some illegal things apparently. She says someone recommended us to her. She paid us $4000 dollars up front with another when it's all over with. $4000! Can you believe that?!" Foggy asked incredulously. 

"That's a lot of money," she murmured in agreement.

"Yeah… funny thing though, Karen seemed to recognise her name. Mrs Grimes is the name of your client and her cheaty illegal husband is the guy you've been spying on…" he trailed off, waiting for her answer.

"Small world, huh?" She smiled at him.

"Seriously? You think I don't know you had something to do with this giant heap of good luck?" He scoffed. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her eyes a little before settling into a sitting position.

"Fine, you got me. She wants some extras for her case and offered me a lot of money. Money I don't need but I know you guys do. So I made a deal with her that you'd be her lawyers and she'd pay what she would have given me," she explained. Foggy still looked stunned and he shook his head.

"What does she need you to do that costs that much?" He asked bewildered. She sighed, wiping a hand down her face wearily.

"Oh god, is it that bad?" He asked hesitantly.

"Kinda. But since I just practically gave $8000 to keep your firm in practice, I expect no lectures from you when you hear it," she asserted with a raised brow. He nodded reluctantly, not able to argue with her. 

"The illegal stuff she said about her husband? He's in bed with the Italians. He sells them client information. She said that some of them ended up bankrupt and some just went 'missing'," she did air quotes and Foggy's jaw gaped a little.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"She wants to get back at him for cheating. She said he humiliated her with how blatant he was about it. She wants to expose him, get him locked up but she needs proof and she wants me to get it. It's a whole complicated thing… but yeah. I'll be going to a ball Mr Grimes is throwing next week undercover and I need to sneak into his office at some point and look for proof. Some of the Italians might be there and who knows who else so I'll be dressed up and acting as a rich bitch," she blew out a breath after her attempt at explaining. 

Foggy blinked at her for a moment.

"I really want to tell you that this is a bad idea and you shouldn't go. But I agreed no lectures and you did just basically help us keep our doors open at the firm. But I will say that I'm worried. Very worried," he muttered tensely. 

"I'm honestly nervous too. But if it goes well then I'll be fine. I'll be extra careful and if it seems too hairy then I'll get out of there. I promise," she reassured. She meant it too. Mrs Grimes refused to go herself because of the risk so she'd get it if she had to duck out and try something else. 

"Okay… I guess I'll just have to accept that," he said reluctantly. She was happy he wasn't fighting her on this because it was already stressing her out.

"And you can't tell Matt," she pointed at him. He frowned deeply and sighed.

"What do you mean I can't tell Matt? He was there when Karen made the connection, you don't think he's gonna be curious about the amount of money?" He asked incredulously.

"Just tell him it was what she was paying me for the normal investigation. She's got more money than sense. He'll have to believe that. I really don't need him butting in with this, not when Mrs Grimes already thinks I should take someone with me to the ball," she huffed.

"Okay now I'm just confused. Wouldn't Matt be the perfect person to take with you?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"If he wasn't a dick then yeah," she glowered. Foggy nodded, leaning forward with his arms on his knees as he looked at her.

"I don't know what went down after I left the other day, but this feels way worse than normal and I don't like it,"he mumbled forlornly. She rubbed her temples and raked her teeth over her lower lip as she stayed silent. 

"Was it what he said? About Mr Lee?" He questioned gently. She'd almost forgotten he'd been there for that remark. Her lips stayed firmly sealed as she glared at the coffee table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Talk to me, Daph. You and Matt are both my friends and it's hard being in the middle like this. He's done nothing but mope around doing his Catholic guilt thing since you last saw him and you seem miserable. I care about you. I'm not gonna sit here and force you to like him or even spend time with him, but I want you to talk to me," he implored. She took a deep breath, mulling over if she should tell him. But he’d wore her down and she found her mouth opening anway.

"His words really cut me deep. They hurt me and I didn't expect that. We've said a lot of shit to each other since we met but that was just… it was cruel. And I get it, he was scared and he lashed out. He said sorry and I actually believe him. But I'm mad at myself. I'm mad because I let him in somehow without realising it. I gave him the power to hurt me with his words. I'm mad because somewhere along the way something changed and I actually care about what he thinks of me," she whispered without looking at him. She almost felt ashamed to get it all out, lay it all on the table. But Foggy wasn't Matt. Being vulnerable around him wouldn't get her hurt.

Foggy scratched his chin, looking at her sadly. 

"I wanna say something and I don't want you to interrupt... I think that maybe you need to come to terms with the fact that feelings are involved in this thing with Matt," he started. She opened her mouth to protest but he shot her a look, promptly snapping her mouth closed. 

"You both can deny it until you're blue in the face, but it's there. It's always been intense with you two. Since the moment you met, up 'til now. No matter what emotion it is, it's strong. And there's a fine line between love and hate," he added.

"I don't love Matt!" She protested, unable to keep quiet at that ridiculous notion.

"Maybe not love. Not yet. But something. You both get under each other's skin so easy because you both care about what the other says. You get hurt when he's genuinely been a dick and he's hurt because he knows he's hurt you. I get it's weird and complicated with you both. And now there's intense sex thrown into the mix and its all blurry. But at some point you two stopped being mere annoyances to each other and denying it is just making things worse," he frowned. She clenched her jaw, really not wanting to be part of this conversation. 

"Matt's been through so much in his life. Like a rigorous amount of bullshit and I sometimes don't know how he keeps going. And he's lost a lot of people one way or another. He shields himself because he's scared. He doesn't wanna get hurt again. But you… I think you got to him. I think you chipped at the armor he wears and that terrifies him. So his only way of dealing with it is being an asshole to push you away. And something tells me you're exactly the same way," he murmured. 

"You don't know me," she snapped without meaning to. He looked hurt and nodded.

"Fine," he stood up and walked to the door. She scrunched her face up feeling like the worst person ever. Foggy was the last person she ever wanted to hurt and her chest felt tight.

"You know what? No, it's not fine. You're doing it right now and I'm not biting!" He frowned, whirling  back around and pointing a finger at her. She lowered her head like a scolded child but took it because she deserved it.

"I'm not saying you guys are in love or that anything will come out of it. But I know my best friend more than anyone and I know when someone's affecting him. And I've seen it with you two from the start, even if you both refuse to admit it. But what I'm saying is that maybe it's time you both just stop. Stop with the angst and the bullshit because you're only hurting yourselves. Try to be friends or something. Anything’s better than this endless loop you're both on," he groused and she stood up to face him.

"I'm not like you, Foggy. I can't just… I don't know how to connect with someone. The only way we became friends was because it's you. You just have this way about you and it's so easy to be around you. And I've tried with Matt, I've shared things with him, personal things and he threw them back in my face. So yeah, maybe I do shut down and I'm not easy to be around for him but it's because he makes it impossible. There is no way out of this endless loop. You told me that me and Matt are a lot alike and honestly I think you're right. Which is why it would never work being friends or anything else with him. I know he can be a great guy, I've seen it. But he's not that guy with me," she frowned. 

Foggy hung his head and nodded.

"I just think… if you guys moved past this crap, you could make each other really happy. But I'll drop it," he relented. She stayed silent as her emotions were all over the place. She didn't know what to think any more. 

"We're all going to Josie's tomorrow night to celebrate the money thing. Karen really wanted you to come as a thank you… but no pressure," he murmured quietly.

He gave her a hug before he saw himself out and she just stood there for a moment. She couldn't help but think back to what Karen said and how similar it was. She had no idea why people seemed to think there was something there with them both when they couldn't even manage to be friends. They were both hard headed and stubborn and lashed out when someone got too close. That wouldn't make anyone happy. But she couldn't deny the fact that Foggy had some points that rang true. Because it had turned into something somewhere along the way. If it hadn't then she wouldn't have been hurt by his words and she would have brushed them off like so many times before. Maybe feelings were involved but she had no idea which ones. She wasn't used to having them.

[tcookies777]

Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - What He's Looking For

About 17 years ago on a sunny September day...

They'd raised the prices on the gum again. Under normal circumstances, Kakashi would've thought that was absurd. Really, 4 ryos for a few sticks of gum with a strawberry flavor that would last for only—what?—fifty chews? But it was also understandable given that the war efforts required such generous financial contributions. Money didn't grow on trees and soldiers didn't come back to life. It was to be expected that the economy would tank during war, but looking at the propaganda posters, anyone would think Fire country was thriving. It was the exact opposite, however, and the high inflation, budget deficits, rise in taxes, and reduced consumption of goods only proved that. So he was loathed to think that he would have to waste a couple of ryo on a pack of gum, but he also wanted to support the soldiers on the frontlines.

With a sigh of defeat, he snatched the pack of gum off the stand before traipsing further down the store in search of his journey's main quest item. There wasn't really much supply to offer these days, and even less food to fill the shelves. But Kakashi wasn't here today to buy some bread or milk, so he had no need to worry about that. All he needed to worry about was looking for the right condoms. And as he entered the aisle of pleasure to peruse his selection for the day, his presence did not go by without notice from a nearby clerk. It was not entirely unusual to see a boy in this aisle, but the clerk had certainly not anticipated that the purpose of the boy's presence here was for contraception. Perhaps he thought the boy was buying for his father, or maybe even an older friend—which, technically, Kakashi suppose he was. But the clerk seemed adamant in keeping his eye on him and Kakashi did his best to ignore him. There was also the possibility that the guy thought he was a shoplifter. After all, despite the clean way Kakashi dressed in his slim dark jeans and olive shirt, he did have the rugged gaze of a kid who'd been beaten up by life but was now ready to fight back. That, and the apathetic darkness in his eyes tended to disturb adults whenever they encountered a kid who was too young to look at them like they were the ones who were younger.

Although, to be fair with the clerk, there had been an increase in theft and street crime ever since the war had started, so Kakashi didn't blame the guy for dogging after him up and down the aisle.

"Uh, hi…?"

The words came muffled through Kakashi's headphones. With a heavy sigh, he slowly reached up and tugged the headphones down to let them rest on his shoulders, but the music continued to blare loudly through both sides of the speakers. The clerk's brow twitched when the boy in front of him still didn't even spare him a glance.

A throat was cleared, and then, "Hi?"

Finally turning to meet the annoyed face of the man, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at him. "Yes, I heard you the first time."

The clerk's brows twitched harder and he shuffled a step closer, still not quite sure how to approach him or maybe the subject before them. "Uh, did you need help finding anything today?" he asked in a peppy voice, remembering to plaster his customer-service smile back on.

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

The clerk blinked at him. "P-Pardon?"

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

Realizing the boy wasn't joking, the guy's face reddened and he stammered, "I-I-I do-don't know!"

Hmm, pity. "Then I guess you can't help me," Kakashi sighed out, wandering further down the aisle to let the guy lick his wounds.

Ignoring the aghast look cast his way, Kakashi studied a box of condoms that were of various colors and various tropical flavors including strawberry, apple, orange, banana, and—oh!—even cherry. If his suspicions were correct, however, he doubted anyone would appreciate a cherry-flavored condom that tasted more medicinal than fruity. Still, maybe Sakae wouldn't care. She'd always had a wicked tongue that could handle the taste of anything, which Kakashi had learned when she'd swallowed down his cum like she was sucking up the last dregs of a vanilla milkshake.

But Kakashi set down the box and picked up the standard, ultra-fine lubricated condoms instead.

Tonight, he didn't plan to get another blowjob in the back of an abandoned lot. Tonight was meant to be the first lay of his life if he played all his cards right, which he'd had no problem doing so in the past few weeks since the night of his birthday when Sakae had taken him into the backyard to give him his first kiss. Even if the kiss had happened through his mask, she'd liked it enough to guide his hand to her generous breasts which he'd always taken the time to admire during dinners when she'd eat across him with her breasts resting on the edge of the table so that he could study the way a stray crumb would disappear down the same cleavage he often dreamt of burying his face in. And then the week after that, he'd guided her hand to cup him through his jeans, encouraging her to slip that hand down his pants and fist his cock well enough to make him burst into the cage of her fingers. The next week, it was her turn to guide his hand down her shorts too.

It should have left him quivering with trepidation when he'd slipped his finger inside her the first time, hearing her cry out either from pain or pleasure or both. Instead, Kakashi had felt no sense of fear or anxiety—or anything, really, save for the sense of satisfaction and curiosity as he explored the velvet insides of a girl for the first time. His fingers had to have been good enough if it eventually had Sakae collapsing against him, shaking and whimpering as if she was in pain but smiling like she enjoyed it. And so it was last week when Kakashi had to tug his mask back on and pull his face out from between her legs to ask if she could repeat what she'd just said.

'If you can get your hands on a condom, I'll do it with you.'

'Do what?' he'd asked her, her orgasm staining the thin cloth of his mask.

'Sex,' she'd purred in his ear, just as he'd expected.

And so in Kakashi's young but precocious mind, of course it only made sense that he would obey the lady's wishes—as well as his own—and seek out the item of his quest. As it was now, he tossed the box of condoms in his hand much like he would as if he was a character from a video game doing a little victory jig, tossing his trophy in a show of smug triumph.

But because it was still too early in the noon to return to the orphanage and catch Mrs. Matsuda breathing fire out her mouth with more bitching, he took a turn into the next aisle full of baby diapers. The efflorescent smell of baby wipes assaulted his nose, sweet as a baby's bum and much to odoriferous for Kakashi's tastes. Then again, he'd always despised the pungent chemicals of perfume. However, the stray pug in the alley across school was in desperate need of diapers since his crippled hind legs always trailed right through his own filth and feces, and Kakashi had grown tired of bathing the old dog daily with a neighbor's sort-of borrowed hose.

In the midst of studying the difference between 'disposable diapers' and 'disposable underwear', Kakashi was indifferent to the cart that rolled up near him just a respectable foot away. At the background of his thoughts regarding the expensive cons of disposable underwear, a woman's voice spoke aloud, her words lashing out with the venomous bite of anger. She wasn't speaking to him, of course, since he definitely had nothing to do with the 'sorry piece of sods who didn't know a leaf from a ryo bill'.

Inclined to give her a wide berth and let the lady yell into the phone without breaking his left eardrum, Kakashi sidled over a step or two. Apparently, it wasn't enough distance, however, as he felt something bump the side of his left sneaker.

He peered down from the disposable diapers and to the stuffed sloth that had somehow ended up against his shoe. Picking it up, he frowned at the sloth that was barely the size of his one hand. Just then his nose wrinkled at the scent that permeated from the stuffed toy—milk that seemed to have been churned up in the stomach and spat back out. Nose still wrinkled, he quickly adjusted his grip so that it was only his finger and thumb that pinched the ear of the sloth.

A quiet cooing sound quickly stole his attention away and to the side where a baby in a cart stared curiously at him. She was dressed in a hideous tuft of pink that nearly swallowed her whole with two chubby little feet poking out from beneath.

Kakashi glimpsed at the woman who was still berating whoever the poor soul was on the other end of the phone. Her back was turned, and she'd taken too many steps away from the child in her cart to notice Kakashi approaching the babe.

Sure enough, she smelled like milk and baby wipes. But there was also another softer, more subtle sweet scent beneath. Not quite aromatic like perfume, but it clung to her gently as if someone's perfume might've rubbed off on her rosy, chubby cheeks after one too many kisses or cuddles. Or maybe she'd just gone rolling down a hill of flowers—cherry blossoms, it smelled like—for all he knew. He didn't know what babies did in their free time besides piss, poop, and play anyway.

"Here," Kakashi muttered quietly, dumping the sloth in the cloud of pink tulle that was the baby's skirt.

Large spring green eyes blinked up at him as if she was asking, 'what the fuck is this doing on my lap?'

He shrugged and stepped away to return his attention to the shelf of diapers. But no sooner did he pick up a pack when he felt another nudge against his left shoe again. He glanced down at the sloth smiling up at him from its position by his shoe, and then he glanced over to the baby in the cart.

She was staring almost expectantly at him as if to say, 'pick it up, dumbass'. Or maybe she was just curious why a boy was wearing a mask when nobody else was. Perhaps she thought he was a creature of the night come to nom on the fat rolls of her thighs and this was her way of testing him. Nah, babies were curious oddities but not too astute.

With a roll of his eyes, Kakashi bent down to retrieve the sloth whose smile seemed more derisive than friendly now. While the mother was still turned away and barking into the phone, he pressed the sloth toy more firmly, insistently to the baby's front.

There it was again, those big eyes staring up at him like saucers of green tea. Huh, now that he thought of it, he hadn't had a cup of tea in a while. Rin had given away the last pack to a younger kid who'd wasted it down the drain anyway. Shit, but he remembered the prices for green tea had risen too. Oh well.

Taking a step away from the baby, Kakashi was miffed when she suddenly threw down her sloth at his feet again before he'd even had the chance to look away from her. He frowned and glared over at the mother who couldn't be bothered to keep a better eye on her daughter who'd decided only a few months old wasn't too young to start acting like a bratty princess already. A bratty princess who was treating him like her dog that she was playing fetch with, he realized belatedly.

As if to assert her royal if infantile position, she looked up at him, spring green orbs glittering with pure mirth as a gummy smile broke out on her face. Kakashi raised a brow at her, none too impressed when a wave of drool spilled down petal-pink lips and painted her poor sloth's face in saliva so that it looked like it was crying for help now.

Sighing quietly, Kakashi shook his head and decided to make his retreat from the diaper aisle. This was a battle he could not win, and the baby only proved that with a gleeful 'mah!' as she waved her hands, gesticulating in a language he could not begin to comprehend beyond grabby, chubby hands reaching for him. The further he retreated down the aisle, the more she kicked up a fuss, kicking up her tiny feet too. Her mother peeked over a shoulder for a split-second but looked away when she saw her baby was fussing for no reason.

Just as Kakashi turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of the baby tossing her sloth back down to the floor like it was her means of summoning her new dog to play fetch with her at her beck and call. Yeah, well, that went against Kakashi's domineering nature and so he stuffed his hands to search for the literature section.

Much to his pleasure, the books were kept at the back of the store where he could read through them in private without a clerk judging him for not paying for the paperback service instead. Much to his disappointment, however, there was no Make-Out Paradise and the selection of books was few and far between, and not to mention somewhat outdated since all the covers were easily recognizable from the days that he'd spent poring through them. Despite the pitiful collection of paperbacks collecting dust in the hopes a perverted reader might spread open their covers and peruse their naughty tales, Kakashi's attention zeroed in on the single brand-new hardcover tempting him with the 10% off sticker. Even more tempting was the cover art of a high school girl wearing a blouse that was buttoned just enough to keep from flashing a nipple, her tennis skirt a plaid black and red color to imitate the style of a uniform a private school girl was mandated to wear. A private school girl who wore that sultry smile just as well as she wore the necktie hanging loosely around her shoulders and arranged to cover a pair of hardened nipples.

Cracking open the cover, Kakashi inhaled the scent of fresh paper and ink first before glimpsing the first string of words that sat beneath the chapter title. He breezed through the first page, mouth quirking up when he recognized the set up for a good fucking. By the third page, however, his small smile had disappeared once he realized the setup was just that: a setup. No fucking. It was even more disconcerting when he flipped through the pages more quickly and concluded that most of the story was just one agonizingly slow striptease that he had neither the time nor patience for. He could even already see the ending from a mile away just by the building premise riddled with clichés and tropes: the professor gets caught and blamed for his sordid affair while his seductive mastermind of a student twiddles her thumbs in a very plausible show of innocence that hid her conniving smile. Of course, the man who gives in to temptation must always be punished for it in the end. It was a theme Kakashi was consistently seeing in almost every book he read.

With a huff of disappointment, he returned the book to the shelf where it could sit with its siblings to collect its own film of dust.

Straying his eyes over to the magazine section, Kakashi hummed in contemplation as he eyed the cover of a girl drawing the shape of a heart over her exposed lower belly with both hands, a peeled banana angled to censor her pussy. He picked up that magazine, flipping over to the section of the sex tips, most of which he already knew and had already practiced several times with Sakae. But, just for good measure, he decided to review the part that advised him how to last long during sexual intercourse.

It was when he was in the middle of studying about technique over speed did the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose up at the same time the smell of tobacco and rotten garbage flooded his nose. Kakashi was about to gag but stopped himself when a man stepped into the aisle—into his peripheral view. There was nothing unusual about the guy as he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt sporting a rock band that had broken up too long ago for Kakashi to even know who they were. What was unusual, however, was the baby hoisted against his hip. The monstrous pink tulle skirt was fluffed up to block her face, but he recognized that hideous dress that nearly swallowed her.

The stench of tobacco and garbage grew stronger as the man stepped closer, and it overpowered the delicate scent of baby milk. Despite having never been a parent before, and certainly not old enough to even have a child, Kakashi was still aware that it was never a good idea to smoke in the presence of a pregnant woman or newborn child. If Rin were with him right now, he had no doubt she would instantly spin on her heel to give the man a good tongue-lashing. And even though Rin wasn't with him right now, he could still feel her elbowing his ribs hard to get him to stop the man.

So with a sigh, he lowered the magazine from his face and sidled his eyes over just to check if the man had some sort of joint in his hand. Nope, nothing but the toy sloth. Kakashi flicked his eyes over to the baby who kept squirming in the man's arms, whining quietly as she swiveled her head left and right as if in search of something. Her toy? No...

Her mom.

Kakashi turned his cheek to glance at the back exit of the store that was reserved for employee use. Just as the man was about to sweep by him, Kakashi dropped the magazine right in his line of path and quickly moved to intercept. The man jerked to a stop, visibly disgruntled by a boy's ass blocking his path to the exit.

"Oh, what a cute baby you've got there," Kakashi drawled out, standing up to set the magazine of sex tips aside. The man paused at the sight of the boy giving him a crease-eyed smile that seemed friendly enough, but hesitation still flickered through his scowling face. Nonplussed, Kakashi tilted his head to the baby beginning to squirm. "What's her name?"

"Hana," the man grunted, moving to step around him.

Kakashi stepped with him, still effectively blocking his path and still smiling beneath his mask although the crinkle of his eyes had smoothened away to display the dead apathy in his gaze. "But that's not really her name, is it?"

The man's eyes widened by a fraction and he stepped back, dropping the sloth toy to reach for something at his back. But Kakashi's instincts were razor-sharp as well, honed by the many late-night street fights he'd often get into on nights when he had trouble sleeping. So before the man could pull out his gun, Kakashi had already pulled out his own pocketknife in a flash and sunk the blade all the way into the man's eyeball so that the hilt rested against the brow bone.

There was an audible 'squelch' that had the baby whimpering louder in distress while Kakashi impassively watched red dribble over the bottom lid of the stabbed eye. The blood started to trickle down a scraggly beard. The man let out a gasp, still staring in surprise at Kakashi as if he couldn't register the knife that'd been jammed into his head or the baby calmly taken from his stiff arms. He stumbled back, reaching up a shaky hand as if considering pulling the knife out even though that would mean taking his eye out with it. With one last gasp, he toppled onto the floor, his one good eye now staring listlessly at Kakashi's scuffed sneakers.

The blood started to pool out from his head rapidly now, spreading across the shiny epoxy flooring of the store. Before the blood could stain the sloth toy, Kakashi swooped down to pluck it off the floor. The baby had stopped her whimpering, looking on curiously as he pressed the toy to her chest.

"This is the last time I'm picking it up for you," Kakashi warned her. "I'm not your dog."

Instead of breaking into tears under his irritated gaze, however, she defiantly dropped her toy sloth (away from the pool of blood, thankfully) in favor of grabbing for Kakashi's face. Faster than he could react this time, she had yanked down his mask to paw and smack his mouth with hands that had probably been in her mouth too. Kakashi's nose wrinkled once more at the weird, somewhat sweet milky scent that he was only now figuring out was indeed saliva.

He jerked his face back in disgust, but that only served to give her a better view of his mouth. She paused, big jade orbs widening at his lips and she broke out into another gummy smile before leaning forth, mouth open like she planned to give him either a great big wet smooch or a great big gummy bite.

"Why not save that for your mom?" He frowned at the river of drool spilling down her chin.

"Agooo!" she squealed gleefully.

"Uh… bless you?"

No longer holding back a cringe, Kakashi held her further away, glancing down when his shoes felt slippery on the floor. He belatedly realized he was now standing in a puddle of blood. And among the sharp scent of copper and the gentle smell of milk, there was now a foul odor that stung his nose and this time Kakashi did gag. The baby giggled aloud, prompting him to glare at her. She only responded with another fart and then a giggle. Kakashi rolled his eyes, adjusting her onto his hip so that he could pull his mask back over his nose even though it wouldn't help much.

"SAKURA!" A woman's voice screamed out—the same woman who'd been too busy arguing on the phone earlier to notice her baby playing fetch with a boy shortly before getting kidnapped by a man.

The woman rushed over in a panic, face flustered with tears and fear. She wrested her baby from Kakashi's arms, glaring murderously at him like he was the culprit and not the dead man on the floor. Well, dead men couldn't tell any tales, so it fell upon Kakashi's shoulders to explain what happened. Maybe it was better to start from the beginning instead of jumping right into the scene where he stabbed the guy's eye out on a hunch. Now the woman was hysterical, crying over her baby's safety and the horror of a dead man on the floor. The woman was still eyeing him warily as the clerk came around to see what all the screaming and blubbering was about. Then he, too, screamed at the dead body on the floor. Which had then resulted in Kakashi retelling his story from the beginning again, this time including how the little babe still farting in her mother's arms had attempted to make Kakashi her toy dog to play fetch with.

The mother hadn't taken too kindly to that part, of course, even though it was the truth and she had demanded him to tell the story all the way from the beginning.

And then the cops had come and now Kakashi was getting really tired of retelling the same story all over again. At this rate, Rin would give him an earful when he got home if Mrs. Matsuda hadn't already blown out his eardrums by then. Of course, it was only until the officers had gotten his statement did they go bother to check the camera footage. And it was only until every microsecond was picked apart and the man was confirmed to have a gun on him did the officers decide to let Kakashi go. If Kakashi had to be honest, he'd thought the police would let him go once he'd mentioned the name 'Sakumo Hatake' to them. Alas, they were too bewildered by the fact that a teenage boy was able to take down a kidnapper with multiple felonies in the blink of an eye. So the fact that said teenage boy was the son of Sakumo Hatake was more or less glazed over.

When the reporters had finally come, it was just a motley crew of young journalists that looked like they were more interested in ordering some burgers than reporting a mere kidnapping attempt. Kakashi couldn't blame them. A burger and a milkshake sound good, he thought to himself, too absentminded when the baby was shoved back into his arms again, this time by her mother who now seemed to have flipped a switch and was giving him—or rather the reporters taking pictures of them—a saccharine smile instead of the accusing scowl from earlier.

One of the reporters had the gall to say, 'smile!' when Kakashi had been forced to pose for a picture, holding the baby against his hip and against his will. Even beneath his mask, it was hard to attempt a smile when she kept making grabby hands at his face. Tufts of pale pink hair tickled his cheek when the mother managed to wrangle her cooing daughter to hold still for just one photo.

"She needs her diapers changed," Kakashi sniffed, all too happy to give the baby back before she really did start treating him like a toy dog to yank around with her.

When the journalists trailed after him in an attempt for an interview, they at least had the common sense to realize their efforts were futile as Kakashi easily sniped them down with curt, one-word answers. Although he'd found it amusing to see them tripping over the cords of their microphones, he was ecstatic (inwardly) when the crew had finally given up and left, having not much else to report but maybe a two-hundred-word essay at most.

Good. He didn't need Mrs. Matsuda blowing up in his face the moment he stepped back inside the orphanage. Not when she was already a ticking time bomb ready to explode over his tardiness and other riff-raff nonsense. She already had disdain for his recalcitrant behavior, and he was sure she was keeping a list of all his shameless shenanigans.

Which was why he hurriedly dumped his box of condoms, the diapers, and the pack of bubblegum on the counter. The clerk, still quietly bemoaning his inevitable duty to clean up the blood at the other side of the store, flinched when Kakashi slapped a ryo bill in front of him.

Only a few years older, the clerk eyed the condoms warily before shifting his attention to the boy who'd just killed a guy like he'd only been playing pin the tail on the donkey—or eye, in this case. "Uh… how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"You're pretty young."

"There's no age minimum to purchase condoms."

"Yeah, but I mean… aren't you a lil' too young to be..." The clerk trailed off unsurely.

"Fucking?" Kakashi finished for him, deadpan. "Or did you mean killing?"

It was a sincere question. He really didn't know if the clerk was raising his brow because of the condoms between them or because of the pool of blood further away. Or maybe his apathetic attitude to it all exacerbated the awkward atmosphere that reeked faintly of blood still.

There was also the option to just brag to the guy that he was old enough to already have a college degree under his belt and would have his Masters by fifteen years old. After all, prodigies like Kakashi didn't need to follow the guidelines of how to grow up like a normal child. He was far from normal, and they both knew it after what had just transpired today. But Kakashi found it more amusing to see the guy shiver visibly in distraught of how fucked up in the head this kid in front of him had to be to walk away from a crime scene like it was a walk through the park.

"Give me a pack of Spinel," Kakashi nodded to the cigarettes behind the counter.

The clerk hesitated once again. Clearly, fourteen years old was not quite old enough to buy cancer sticks like they were lollipops. But considering what this kid had just done to a full-grown man earlier and without so much as a blink of an eye... Smoking a cigarette seemed to be harmless when compared to killing a man.

With his condoms, diapers, bubblegum, and Spinel cigarettes now packed in a plastic bag, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at the clerk who shivered again when he realized it was the same expression he had just before killing a man. Unperturbed, Kakashi made his way out of the store, but not without suggesting aloud that they restock the literary section for the poor, depraved souls in desperate need of a raunchy book to soothe the ache of their groins.

On his way back to the orphanage, Kakashi stopped by the corner for a quick smoke. He counted his puffs carefully. Mrs. Matsuda had given up warning him of the addiction to nicotine he would develop sooner or later, but she underestimated him. The shrewd woman liked to believe that she knew him like the back of her hand just because he'd been under her wing for a couple of years already. Little did she know that underneath all that 'recalcitrant behavior that brought shame to his father', Kakashi was in complete control of himself. It was almost neurotic for him to fine-tune his body like an instrument—or a weapon—and constantly stay on high alert for any sign of danger. Like a master of his own puppet, he pulled the strings on every single muscle and breath he owned.

He was in control of himself, and he made a promise that no urge would ever control him. If he wanted to smoke a stick, that was fine. But he wouldn't let the cravings get out of hand. Because it hurt too much to want something so badly that it destroyed you, and Kakashi Hatake was all too aware of what that was like. He'd been craving the impossible since he was a five-year-old kid who'd discovered his father's gutted body one stormy night. And though the cravings never really stop, what mattered was that he was in control of himself.

Even so, he finished his last puff and dropped the stick to snuff it out with a quick grind of his heel. The sun was hanging low, signaling that it was almost in time for dinner and Kakashi knew that his tardiness would only add more fuel to Mrs. Matsuda's already raging fire. He could already smell the smoke of danger—or maybe that was just the smoke of his cigarette clinging to him. Still, he couldn't afford to listen to her bitch for an extra hour when he had another appointment to get ready for tonight.

And it was after dinner that he readied himself for that appointment by sneaking out onto the back porch to enjoy the fresh air as well as the bottle of vodka he'd swiped after picking the lock of the alcohol cabinet. The vodka ran down his throat like fire and settled warm in his stomach. He sighed, leaning back to watch a plane fly overhead. The backyard was filled with fireflies at this time of night, the bugs eager to get some fresh, cool air after a balmy day under the sun.

"Someone made the local newspaper today."

Kakashi glanced up as Rin lowered herself down to take a seat beside him. "Front-page?"

"Last," she replied, presenting him with the page of his deed—minus the word 'heroic' though. At the bottom of the page was a photo of him holding the baby, the both of them painted in shades of black ink and icky grey but neither of them even looking at the camera. Kakashi was in the middle of thinking how much the baby's cheeks look a lot like a chipmunk's when Rin sighed beside him. "They say you killed a man, Kakashi."

He raised his eyes to her. Her face was marred by a disapproving frown while his was as smooth and blank as a canvas.

"Yeah... And?"

Rin's frown deepened. "And... you don't seem to care," she said, her gaze heavy with woe instead of bright with fear.

"I don't care that I killed a man that was going to do god-knows-what to that baby?" He couldn't help but get a little defensive. What did she want him to do? Cry and mourn the loss of a man who contributed nothing to society and was more of a fungal infection that needed to be taken care of? Sure, a life was a life and Kakashi had no intention to play god and decide who lives and who dies. But in a situation like that, there was no choice but to decide who lives and who dies—and hadn't he made the correct judgment in killing the guilty to save the innocent?

Every soldier out on the battlefield was doing that right now. Killing people to save people. It was a necessary evil for the greater good, but maybe Rin didn't understand that quite yet. She was still young and naïve in the sense that she was a proponent for idealism rather than realism. She still had yet to take off her rose-tinted glasses and see the world for what it really was and not for what she wanted it to be. And right now, she was squinting through those glasses to scrutinize him.

He didn't know what she saw, but he knew she didn't like it.

"You know what I mean," she sighed, looking at him the same way she'd looked upon that crippled, old pug in the alley. Broken, and waiting for death.

Just like his father.

"Don't look at me like that, Rin," Kakashi muttered darkly. He looked away from her, taking a sharp swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

She clicked her tongue but grabbed the drink to take a sip, wincing from the burn before tapping a finger on the photo from the newspaper. "You know, it almost looks like this is your baby," she said with a teasing smile. "You almost look adorable as a teen daddy."

"Very funny," Kakashi said with a roll of his eyes although he was grateful for the change in subject. "You know I'm never having children, right? They're fussy and needy and I dare even say abusive. This one pulled my mask down and saw my face while I was helpless to do anything about it. She practically tried to assault her own savior!"

"What?! Why, out of all the people in this world, it's a baby who gets to see your face first?!" Now Rin was pouting with him, but a smile was threatening to twitch awake again. "So not fair. I wiped your puke the first time you got blackout drunk and you still wouldn't let me see!"

"I'll show you one day."

But first, he hoped she'd forget about it.

"At this rate, I'll be dead by the time you do show me."

"I promise to show you," he said, taking absolute care not to pinky promise because, according to Rin, those were unbreakable even for him. He dug into his pocket for the pack of strawberry bubblegum and tossed it to her.

"You remembered the flavor I asked for?" She looked pleased.

"I do have perfect memory."

"Only when you care to remember things."

He raised a shoulder into a shrug like he could care less. "Go brush your teeth and make sure to clean your tongue like I taught you. I can smell the garlic chips you snuck in."

Rin sniffed and curled her lip in distaste. "And I can smell the nicotine on you."

"That's from Asuma."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

She rolled her eyes back at him but stood up, brushing the invisible dust off her skirt. "What about you? If Mrs. Matsuda catches you here—and with her stolen vodka..." she had her brow raised at the way Kakashi had grabbed the bottle to hug it to himself. Then her brow dipped into a frown and she followed his gaze to the shadows of the backyard. Her face scrunched up in disgust. "Wait, are you going to be making out with Sakae again?"

"Of course not," he snorted. "I'm way past first base already."

And second, and third, and now he was on the last stretch of his home run.

"You say you'll never have children but you sure like practicing making them," Rin said dryly.

Kakashi shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a healthy growing boy with healthy hobbies."

That earned him a sharp kick in the ribs from Rin but he hardly winced. "Remind me to not buy you the next installment of the Make-Out series when it comes out next year."

Ouch. She knew where to hit him where it really hurt.

Hearing her leave to get ready for bed, Kakashi sat straighter, knocking the bottle back for another swig of vodka. He had a better tolerance than last year, and at 5 feet and 5 inches, he already had a solid build shaping up even if his bones still ached and his voice still broke. But he'd already become a man at five years old, growing up in the hard blink of an eye. The painful whiplash of his childhood ending so abruptly had already faded away, but he still found his thoughts straying to his father even on a night like this.

Glimpsing the photo of himself and that baby, Kakashi couldn't help but replace the image with him in his father's arms instead. He blinked once, and he was back to staring at his deadpanned face in sharp contrast to the giggling, gurgling baby he'd been forced to carry for the photo-op.

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi scrubbed a hand down his face before reaching for the newspaper to tear off that page. He folded the sides, making sure the edges were crisp and aligned before throwing the makeshift plane out into the garden. It caught a warm breeze and rode on the tails of the wind, rising higher into the night sky. Kakashi watched on, his memory of today's events already miles away like the paper plane would soon be; soon to be forgotten completely by the end of the night. And as the paper plane raced over the neighborhood, Kakashi's thoughts were now racing towards the future, particularly tonight during which he'd get to weigh Sakae's generous breasts in his hands again.

They're definitely just as soft and heavy as I remember, Kakashi thought at the back of his mind an hour later. But he'd also just as soon forgotten those plush breasts once he found himself inside of Sakae, fucking her in the shadows of the backyard with the rest of the orphanage (save for Rin) none the wiser. He'd impressed her when he managed to roll the condom on without a problem, and he'd been impressed when she guided him down on the bench to ride him. Then they'd both been impressed when, in a sudden turn of events, Kakashi had ended up bending her over and fucking her from behind, her hands gripping the bench so hard that her knuckles bled white and his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

When it was all done and nothing left to be said, Kakashi honestly didn't feel any different from before. Even when Sakae had blushed and stuttered through her words to tell him to take her out on a date, he felt no inclination to return the romantic sentiment. Of course, he'd still proposed to take her to the movies next week, and she'd proposed to give him a handjob if they stayed for the credits. But beyond the primitive nature that drove Kakashi to accept the sex, there was no tug at his heart the way Sakae's had been.

He liked her as much as he liked her big breasts, and he liked the sex just as much as any healthy, hormonal boy would at his age. But his loss of virginity tonight had changed virtually nothing inside him. Sakae didn't seem to notice at all though when she'd peck a goodnight kiss on his cheek, and Kakashi had given her that same crease-eyed smile he'd given to the clerk and the man he'd killed.

After checking that Rin was tucked in bed and asleep, he made his way to the boy's bathroom. There probably would've been a celebration of sorts among his male peers had they known that Kakashi lost his virginity and got to cum inside a girl—four years older than him at that—all in one night. But at the tender age of fourteen and a genius in his own right, the only one he could celebrate with was the old, crippled pug across the school. He was the only one of his peers who'd had sex with a girl, killed a man, and found his father's own corpse, so of course there wasn't really anyone he could talk to except for the pug who was already too tired laying on Death's doors to care about the fucked-up adventures of a fucked-up boy.

And when Kakashi started to strip off his clothes to shower off the smell of sex, it was then that he realized the bit of blood from the store had stained the edges of his sleeve, the red nearly blending into the black fabric. He didn't care for the copper scent, but he did frown at the light smell of thrown-up milk and cherry blossoms. But of course the baby had drooled on his shirt. He was probably lucky enough that she hadn't puked milk all over him too.

"Never gonna have children," Kakashi groused to himself, and then he stepped into the shower to rinse away the last evidence of today's events.

The rest of the chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

[colderthancoldest]

Return Home To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: Last you heard from the Master, he was on his way to propose an alliance with some of the galaxy's worst criminals. When he finally returns, it's clear the meeting didn't go as planned.

Reader comforts the Master basically, fluff piece, loosely inspired by Hozier’s ‘Work Song’

Inspired by: This post by @flybi91

Warnings: Injuries, blood, ect

Word Count: About 2.2k

---

You've been worried about the Master for some time now. Last you saw him, he had been on his way to meet a very dangerous man about the possibility of a high-stakes alliance. He had dropped you off at your apartment to return to your normal life, citing that it was a better way you spent your time. However, you suspected he was secretly trying to keep you safe in case things went sideways.

You had begged him to be careful around such powerful and violent figures, but he had reassured you- the way he always does- that he knows what he's doing.

He promised you everything would be perfectly alright and he would return as soon as the deal was sealed.

That was 2 weeks ago.

'He has a time machine,' you tell yourself, 'he easily could have gotten the date wrong with a press of a button.'

'He could return any second and maybe only a few hours have passed for him,' you lie to yourself.

Normally, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to consider the possibility of a time machine missing it's mark by a few weeks- however you know him.

You know the Master, absolutely and completely. As he so often makes a point of, "You probably know me better than anyone ever has."

He would never leave you for this long without telling you. And more than than, he'd promised to return once his meeting was over. What could possibly be keeping him?

You try to distract yourself with anything you can think of just to starve off the sick feeling such worries bring, but they grow stronger every day. There's a nauseating, gnawing at your gut that perhaps something has happened to him and he's too hurt to make good on his promise.

You trust him, but the Master is only one man. There are some things beyond even his control.

-

You've been thinking about it all evening when you realize it's been three full weeks since you last saw him. You don't even care what's happened anymore, you just hope more than anything that he's not lying dead in a ditch on a planet you could never hope to reach alone.

It's a beautiful fall evening when you finally hear the familiar, rhythmic noise of the Tardis engines.

You convinced the Tardis to translate her manual once- you and his telepathic craft have a certain bond in that way- and diagnosed the wheezing sound as a simple issue of unoiled breaks.

The Master, without a doubt the most stubborn person you've ever met, refused to let you fix the problem- but the way he had looked at you that day still lingers in your mind as if it was yesterday.

You would give anything for him to look at you like that again. With so much love and intrigue and something almost impressed in those gorgeous deep eyes of his. More than anything, you need to see those perfect eyes once more and know that he's alright.

At the sound of the Tardis, you seek out the noise as quickly as you're able. You're almost happy he refused to change the noise because if he had, you may not have recognized it.

You find the familiar craft settled in an ally just around the corner. As you hurry over the walkway littered in colorful autumn leaves, you get the terrible feeling that the Tardis seems relieved to be found by you. You've had this feeling before- once when the Master had gotten into a particularly bad bar fight and the Tardis had returned his unconscious body to you- but it's stronger this time, and that terrifies you.

"What is it?" you breathe once she's in your sights. You're a little out of breath from tracking down the Tardis but you're not about to let that slow you down. The Tardis only swings open her doors for you.

You barely make it inside when your body freezes involuntarily and you stop. There's blood on the floor, a trail like a leaking container of milk through a grocery store. You can see the pattern of exactly where the Master had walked and for how long he stood there by the size of the tiny pools laid out before you.

As you enter, the Master's back is to you. Both of his hands are clutching tight to the controls of his ship and you immediately recognize that something's wrong from the way he has himself braced.

Just as quickly as you had stopped, you run to him.

"Are you alright? I mean, obviously not but- Tell me how to help," you quickly ask the Master, your words tumbling out nervously.

He refuses to look at you.

"I didn't want you to see me like this," he breathes as a small string of blood escapes his lips.

He stands there like he's okay, but you know for certain that he's not. If he was, he would have spun around in that theatrical way he likes to and flash you a bright, award-winning smile. Instead he only stands there with his hands gripping tight to the stand like he can barely do just that.

"She brought me here anyways," the Master considers quietly, clearly referring to the Tardis.

He doesn't sound like he's fully there as he gives you a small laugh, barely a little huff of amusement, and his grip falters for a second.

His hands were coated in blood, far too much for you to know where or who it had come from. All you know is that it's a bad sign.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Let me help you," you offer.

No response.

"Tell me how to help you," you then add more firmly when it appears he didn't quite hear you.

The sharpness in your tone gets his attention.

"I'm sorry," he says. His voice crackles and he finally turns to look at you.

The side of his face is bruised terribly. His lips are bleeding profusely from numerous cuts against his teeth. His left side is bleeding, he shifts all his weight to one leg so it doesn't seem too obvious that the other is injured. There's blood smeared down nearly every square inch of his clothes and you're not sure what's worse- if it's his or someone else's.

You take his face gently in your hands and allow his soft skin and sharp beard to mix sensations beneath your fingertips.

"Look at me," you ask.

He can barely get his eyes to stay on you. They keep focusing in and out of reality and you're half certain he's going to pass out when he finally locks those eyes on you.

All at once, you know you can fix this because there he is again. At the end of the day, all he is is another living soul and, no matter what happens, he'll always return home to you.

"You're going to be okay," you promise softly, "Don't worry about explaining right now. Just tell me how to help."

He breathes something weak, perhaps a sigh of relief, and nods.

"There's a medbay," his mouth and voice crackle from the tears slowly filling his eyes and the blood threatening to fill his throat.

"The Tardis can show you the extent of my injuries and help to patch me up," the Master says before forcing himself to take a deep breath.

"Alright," you agree as you pull one of the Master's arms over your shoulders and wrap your own arm around his side to guide him.

One of his legs is clearly badly injured, but he doesn't do much more than wince as you help him down one of the concealed halls. Thankfully, the Tardis understands the Master's situation and not only moves the room closer, but also opens all the doors for you.

The Master is relieved when his body finally falls into a small, hospital-like bed in the aforementioned medbay. He gives a low groan at the effort it takes, but he seems much happier once he can rest.

The Tardis performs a scan and begins her own work patching up the worst of the Master's wounds with a small claw-like arm. It cuts away a small gap in the torn fabric, cleans the wound, and then goes to work with some futuristic stitches.

Medicine was never your procession, so you do what you can by getting a damp cloth to wipe off some of the blood. If it's his, then you have to make sure he isn't bleeding anywhere else.

Usually the Master is all jokes and gallows humor, but he barely seems able to stay conscious. The fact that he's still trying to stay awake worries you. You wonder what he thinks will happen if he doesn't.

"I'm sorry," he tries again. "This isn't your job but I-"

He stops and weakly turns his head away from you, trying to hide the more damaged side of his face.

"Have nowhere else to go?" you ask softly.

He closes his eyes and tries to hide his expression, but you know that's what he meant.

You push the barrier down on the side of the bed and lean down to reach him. You wrap one arm around his back and move the over to hold the back of his head as you hug him.

His arms immediately reach up to hold you in return. You can practically feel the tremor in his hands as his arms tighten around you.

"I was scared I would regenerate," he confesses softly into your shoulder. He was getting blood everywhere, but it was a small price to pay to comfort him.

The Master's arms tightened and despite the way his muscles shook and strained to keep a hold of you, he refuses to let go for a minute more.

"I was scared I wouldn't see you again. This me anyways. And what if I came back as someone else? What if you... didn't feel the same way about them?"

You lean closer into him so he doesn't have to strain as much. You run your fingers through his hair and do your best to sooth him as the Tardis does her best to patch the deep tear in his side. Slowly and gradually, you know it's working by the way his fingers gently loosen on the fistfuls of your clothes.

"We would have figured it out," you promise him, "But with that said, please try not to die."

He laughs a little at that and it's enough to let you know that he'll be alright if he can pull through the worst of this.

-

Eventually, when he's stable and calm enough, you settle him to lay down and he lets you pull away. You catch a glimpse of gold flicker across the top of his hand, now clean from blood, and just as quickly disappear. The Master looks like he's perfectly content pretending he didn't catch you notice how bad a condition he's in- and yet you can't help but smile.

"You always have been the most stubborn person I've ever met," you chuckle a little.

"Ever the survivor, me," he replies quietly with a smirk.

You look him over once more. He's even more exhausted than before now that the fear and adrenaline have worn off. The Tardis has given him some medicine to counter what you know must be agony. Still, he's in pain, and you can't help but wonder how often he goes through it alone.

"You can always come back to me, you know," you assure him as you pull up a chair and lean down to his level.

He turns to look at you, his deep eyes so loving and gentle as they look over you. You can see that he believes you, and it's enough to bring tears to the edges of his vision.

"No matter what," you promise firmly.

The Master swallows back his tears and blood.

"You'll stay?" he asks softly, almost in disbelief, "You won't get scared and leave?"

You smile, a deep and sad smile, because he should really know this by now. He should know that you're loyal to a fault, just as he is.

It's a tight fit, but you climb into the bed next to him and settle yourself against his less-wounded side. You retrieve an ice pack from the table next to you and offer it to the Master for the damaged side of his face. He holds it to his bruises as you hold him and watch for his breathing as the Tardis's scan confirms he's healing properly.

"You're lucky," you tell him with your head on his shoulder. You're covered in blood by this point too, but it doesn't really matter.

"You're stable for now," you explain. "Once I can move you without aggravating your wounds we'll get you properly cleaned up," you assure him.

The Master hums in agreement as he begins to drift off. Now that he knows he's in safe hands and that he won't be regenerating anytime soon- not to mention the medication that's finally kicked in- he finally appears to be okay with letting go of the conscious world.

"Yes," he agrees quietly with one arm settled around you and his other hands in yours, "I suppose I am quite lucky."

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Heaven of a Human Spirit-- Aziraphale x Reader

Request; “Can I request an Aziraphale x fem!reader where he's drinking with Crowley in the bookshop and when she enters he just confesses his love to her in a very poetic and theatrical way (Aziraphale style) and then kisses her out of blue. Like, I image her completely shocked but pleased and Crowley surprised while cheering for his angel friend.” (anon)

Warnings; bit of swearing, specified fem! reader

Word Count; 1.4k

Notes; reposting this old fic cause it got taken down for “violating the terms of use” or some shit like that and has been under appeal for the last few months... highly doubt they’ll release it any time soon so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You had first met Aziraphale when a friend of yours had dragged you to his bookshop. Your friend kept telling you about how weird the little shop was and how all the Yelp reviews were terrible. Hardly anyone seemed to be able to purchase a book there. So, as soon as your friend noticed that the shop was actually open for once, they were forcing you to go in with them.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a cute little shop with dozens of books scattered about. There was a bit of an odd smell, but you shrugged it off. It was a used book store. Old books can sometimes bring strange smells. The two of you browsed the shelves, and your friend read some of the Yelp reviews to you. You both found a book that interested you. Deciding to take it home, you two began to hunt for a staff member. According to Yelp, workers at A. Z. Fell's bookshop are reclusive creatures that are often incredibly hard to locate.

When your friend finally spotted Aziraphale, they made a beeline for him. It was apparent he didn't want to sell the book to them, constantly haggling for a higher price. Your friend finally got frustrated and put the book away. They made a comment about how they didn't have time to stand around and argue about book prices. They wished you good luck on purchasing a book then left.

You had a different strategy than your friend. Instead of just going up and asking to buy the book, you'd ask his opinion on it. He seemed a bit surprised that you just wanted to talk about the book but was eager to tell you his love for it. You ended up spending hours in the little shop, just talking to Aziraphale about books. He even confessed to you that he hated selling the books because he loved them all too much. You joked about how he should have opened a library instead of a shop, which made him look quite offended.

That evening, you left with a book. Aziraphale had loaned you one of his favorites, with a piece of paper stuck inside that had his number scrawled on it. You made a point to go back and visit him whenever you had the opportunity. The two of you were constantly trading books, and it felt like a sort of personal book club with just the two of you. He enjoyed your company, always looking forward to your next visit.

Armageddon was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Both Crowley and Aziraphale knew that it would arrive in the blink of an eye. Neither of them wanted it to happen, but what could they do?

The answer, of course, is get drunk. They chugged down bottle after bottle of Aziraphale's finest wine collection. The two of them could hardly even walk, let alone finish a sentence without stumbling over every other word, but they babbled on anyway. Well, Aziraphale babbled about you, and Crowley just listened, occasionally nodding or inserting his own comment.

"For Satan's sake, Aziraphale. You're obviously madly in love with her. Just fuckin' tell her already," Crowley groaned. Aziraphale looked at him with wide eyes.

"What? I'm not madly in love I just... I just— er— I enjoy her company." Crowley pursed his lips and raised a brow at Aziraphale, who was now blushing something fierce thanks to both the alcohol and embarrassment. "Alright, alright! Say hype— hyper— hippo— WHAT IF I am in love with (Y/N). How do I know she feels the same?"

"She does," Crowley answered without hesitation. Aziraphale scoffed. Crowley rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "Have you seen the way she looks at you? I mean, the moment she lights up as soon as you walk into the room? Plus, she talks about you almost as much as you talk about her." Aziraphale gave him an incredulous look.

"How do you know that?" Crowley opened and closed his mouth, stuttering nonsense as he tried to find the right words.

"Not important. I just know that she does, okay? I mean, I keep tabs on everyone. You should know that by now." Aziraphale nodded, taking another big sip of his wine. "The point is... uh... the point is that..." Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. "The point is that you need to tell her how you feel. 'Cause you might not get another chance, ya know. With Armageddon and all that." On that note, Crowley downed the rest of his glass and started to pour himself another. Aziraphale stared into his own drink. A quick rasp on the front door startled him out of his thoughts. A smug grin formed across Crowley's face. "Showtime." He leaped out of his seat and dashed toward the door. Aziraphale sank further into the chair.

"I'm too drunk for this," he grumbled.

You smiled as the tall, lanky demon swung the door open, shouting your name. He quickly ushered you inside. "How much have you drank?" you teased, poking him in the side with your elbow. Crowley stopped and furrowed his brows. He slurred something about losing track after the third bottle and continued to stumble through the bookshop. When you walked into the back room, you found Aziraphale glowering at the full glass in his hand. "Must've been a hell of a day for the both of you to get piss drunk." Crowley nodded, plopping back into his seat.

"We were talkin' about love." Aziraphale shot Crowley a look, but you missed it. You snorted, crossing your arms.

"Really, and who do you have the hots for? Let me guess... Beelzebub? No, no, no. It's Hastur, isn't it?" Crowley's jaw dropped, and he looked quite offended. Aziraphale laughed but quickly covered his mouth to stifle it. Crowley pursed his lips and leaned back into the seat.

"No, actually, we were talking about Aziraphale being in love." Your smile faltered for a moment, but you quickly composed yourself before turning to look at the angel.

"That so?" He nodded slowly. You waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "Well, who's the lucky one?" Aziraphale glanced between you and Crowley. The demon nodded and gave the angel a thumbs up. Aziraphale stood up from his chair and set down his glass. He muttered something about trying to find the right words to say, but you couldn't quite catch it because Crowley loudly interrupted.

"Why not something Shakespeare? You love his stuff so bloody much." Aziraphale's face lit up at the suggestion. Dozens of different quotes flashed through his mind.

"Yes, okay." He cleared his throat and focused his gaze on you. "Shall I compare thee—"

"No, no," Crowley groaned. "Too cliché." Aziraphale nodded. His brows furrowed as he tried to come up with something slightly more original. You awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

"Anyone care to tell me why we're coming up with Shakespeare quotes?" Aziraphale huffed and shook his head.

"Fuck!" You and Crowley stared at the angel in shock. Aziraphale hardly ever swore, and him using the 'F' word was an absolute rarity. The angel took a step closer to you and took a deep breath. "It's you. You're the one I'm in love with," he rushed out. You blinked slowly, taken aback by the sudden news.

"Me? You're in love with me?" He nodded. His eyes searched your face as various emotions washed over you. You shook your head in disbelief. "You're just drunk, Aziraphale." The angel cupped your face in his hands. On instinct, you placed your hands on top of his. There was a sort of urgency in his eyes that you had never seen before.

"No," he said firmly. "I sobered up before you walked in. I truly meant it. I'm in love with you, (Y/N)." Aziraphale pressed his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. "Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love." A bright smile graced your features.

"I love you, you cheesy bastard." Aziraphale started to lean in for another kiss. The two of you pulled apart when Crowley started clapping.

"Wahoo. Now, how about we have a toast?" The demon reached for another bottle, but you moved it away from him.

"I think you've had enough for today," you laughed.

~*~*~

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[namjoonfluff]

The Florist

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

summary: you own a flower shop in London and get to meet lots of interesting customers but none as interesting as Jungkook. 

genre: this is pretty fluffy at the moment - tempted to make it a series if people like it and we might get smut or angst!

word count: 1,900 notes: i haven’t edit yet so if things don’t make sense, feel free to come for me in my asks

When you opened up Buds & Blooms last spring, it was partly because of your love of flowers but also your love of people too. You see, you were surrounded by the same beautiful blossoms every day. However, the individuals who entered the shop were exactly that - individuals. Each one completely unique from the others; with different lives, different problems and different reasons for buying flowers. 

You had Mrs Norris who popped in every Monday to check out the latest bouquets. Her visits were never about purchasing a bunch but indeed, she was lonely. You would often see her leaving her terraced house, waving goodbye to her dog and shuffling across the street to the shop. Your eyes followed her every move; head bowed to the ground as she manoeuvred the cobbled street. The bell would ring to signal her entrance and you acted as if you hadn’t been expecting her arrival for five minutes now. “Hello, dear,” She would whisper softly across the rows and rows of roses and camellias. 

You glanced up from your ribbons and smiled. She didn’t like to start a conversation straight away. Instead, Mrs Norris took a very slow lap around the store before settling upon a bouquet of sunflowers. Her fingers ran across the sunshine petals as she fell into a deep thought. 

“Patrick used to buy me these,” Mrs Norris said to herself, looking sadly at the bright bouquet which sat waiting for her. You would never tell her this but you placed them there purposely. Before Mrs Norris’ husband passed away, he paid you to create her a bouquet every week. Even beyond the grave, he was finding a way to keep their love strong. It was enough to make you believe in soulmates! 

Soon after, Mr James rushed into the store like usual. No matter what day of the week, it was always just before lunchtime when he threw the door open in a hurry. As his face flushed pink and chest heaved, he briskly walked to find the biggest bouquet he could possibly find. Lucky for him, you always had one prepared for his visits. “What is it this time?” You grinned from behind the counter.

“Forgot-” He said breathlessly. “Forgot the pickles and now I’m getting a bollocking!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the panic on his face. Anytime Mr James and his wife had a slight disagreement, he would rush out to buy her flowers. It was because of him that the flower shop stayed afloat! He must have purchased about fifty bouquets since his wife got pregnant. He was seriously the best husband though. 

Plenty more customers popped their heads into the store throughout the day. There was Miss Dean - a teacher from the local school who always needed a fresh arrangement for her classroom. You were also visited by Danny Jones, your next door, shop neighbour. He was always dropping by to offer you some of his luxury coffee. It was disgusting though; the bitter type of coffee that just sat in the back of your throat the whole day! With his cup of hell, he also brought an uncomfortable attempt at flirting. “So, do you ever leave this place?” Danny said, leaning up against the counter. Your eyes twitched as you watched him squash the head of a pink rose from one of your wedding displays. It was a shame you had to be polite in front of customers because you could have slapped him so hard in that moment. 

“Well, you know what it’s like running a small business,” You shrugged. “I just wanna keep this place afloat!” He sipped his sludge while raking his eyes up and down your body. It would maybe make sense if you were wearing some kind of body-con, booby dress with heels. Yet, here you were in your favourite pair of mom-jeans and a baggy jumper. “That’s why I have my father involved,” Danny smirks from beyond the cup. “He pays the bills, I just make sure nothing goes wrong!” 

You subtly roll your eyes from behind the vase you were plucking flowers from. How could someone get through life like this? You wondered. But you didn’t really have to think for long. He was lucky enough to have his daddy’s investment. Need more beans imported from Dubai? Get Father on the phone! Someone broke the coffee machine again? Well, looks like Daddy’s going to need the call. You were jealous really! After all, you had saved up the money to buy the shop, scrimped and scraped so you could afford the latest till. You had even dipped into your life savings to buy a new sign for the shop. That’s how much you cared about this place! It frustrated you to see someone have it so easy. 

“Anyway, do you fancy getting a drink with me?” Danny asked. 

“Not if it’s any of that coffee,” You whispered.

“Huh?” He looked up from the flower he had de-petalled just a second ago. You were this close from kicking him out the store! 

“I’m okay,” You said shyly. How are you supposed to reject someone nicely? Someone who always gets their own way? 

“Are you sure?” Danny’s annoying voice peaked again. “Do you really want to be single and selling flowers all your life?” Actually, yes. That sounded like an absolute dream plan right now! No annoying men trying to make you drink their horrible coffee. Maybe you could have a dog like Mrs Norris. Yes, a dog sounded like a great idea - plus, they are much quieter than men anyway! 

“Honestly,” He huffed, bringing you out of the daydream where you’re walking your adorable dachshund around Hyde Park. Fucking idiot! How dare he interrupt you as you and Herbert settle on a park bench for a picnic. “You women confuse me beyond belief,” “You talk about marriage and babies but when a decent guy comes along, you reject him!” 

Afraid he was going to start lecturing you on the benefits of marrying into his family, you made sure to place a pot down on the counter - loudly! That should wake him from his own daydream which probably involved an image of you being his trophy wife, feeding him his exuberant coffee beans. “Sorry, Danny,” You said, looking up at the clock. “I’m closing now!” 

“No worries! Want me to do the tills for you?” He pointed at your cash register. “You want to make sure you’ve counted all your takings correctly!” 

How could someone be so unbearable to be around! 

“No,” You said firmly - or as firm as you could make it sound. “I’m okay!”

Despite his resistance, Danny finally left the shop five minutes before closing, leaving behind his stupid cardboard cup. In frustration, you lobbed it at the wall, hitting the space just below the chalkboard which advertises your prices. That was going to leave a mark but you would deal with it tomorrow. The only thing you need right now is to stick your head in a bunch of peonies! Thankfully, you were the owner of a flower shop and so a bouquet of peonies wasn't far away. 

Sticking your head into the fresh flowers, you inhale their sweet, earthy scent. They act as a reset button, helping you to remember exactly why you love this job. It was your philosophy that flowers could fix anything. Whether it was a petty argument or full-on heartbreak, buying someone flowers was like putting a metaphorical bandaid on their heart. It wouldn’t fix them, of course! However, it helped the healing process feel a little easier. It was just nice to know someone cared enough to send you flowers. It takes the sting out of any sour experiences. It helps to forget just a little! And as a florist, you were so happy to be a part of making people’s lives better. Even if the shop didn’t make you any money, you would still get up every day at five o’clock and create bouquets and arrangements. This was your biggest passion after all! 

“Hello?” A voice enters your ear from across the quiet shop. Shit!

You quickly whip your head around to see a man standing in your door, half smirking and half wondering ‘what the fuck is this girl doing motorboating some flowers!’ Well, at least, you think that must be what’s going through his head. How often do you walk into a shop to see someone with their face buried in flowers. “Sorry, I was just-” You start to explain but you wonder how you’re supposed to explain this to a stranger. Apologies, I just stuck my head in some flowers because this annoying guy keeps hitting on me. It’s not exactly normal person behaviour - the type a complete stranger would understand. “It’s okay,” The man spoke in a soft and calming voice. “I am looking for flowers.” “Well, you have come to the right place,” You gestured to all the flowers around you, which you had yet to stick your face in. “I promise I don’t do that with all the flowers!”

The stranger just laughed and began walking around the shop, admiring all of the flowers you had available at the moment. Completely embarrassed by what just happened, you rushed to the backroom to compose yourself. Oh god, what is my life! Did I really just embarrass myself like in front of some random guy? What must he be thinking right now! Maybe he’s already run out of the store and called the police. Amidst your thoughts, you hear a voice call out saying: “Excuse me!” With the heat from your cheeks slowly dissipating and breath starting to still, you walked back to the front of the shop with confidence. You see the man standing by the bucket of Ranunculus stems, staring down at them intently. 

“How can I help?” You smiled, catching the man’s vibrant smile back at you. Now that you’re in touching distance of the stranger, you realise quite how handsome he was. His warm skin was actually glowing - like he was sweating but it was a beautiful kind of sheen that wasn’t gross at all. As if you had made a complete fool of yourself in front of someone as beautiful as him. What an idiot!

“Can you tell me about these?” He said softly and you nodded. 

“These flowers are called…” As you explained the history of the flower and its meaning, his deep-brown eyes watched you intently. It was almost hard to keep eye contact with him because every time you looked in his direction, his eyes were staring right at you; full of wonder and intrigue. No one had ever looked at you like that. He even smiled and laughed at your little jokes, which definitely no one ever did! Nobody cared about flowers as much as you do to even understand your jokes. “So, these are perfect in bouquet, wreaths and things like table settings,” You finished with a smile as always. However, it didn’t feel forced like it did with other customers.

“Could I get them in a bouquet to collect tomorrow, please?” The man said quietly. “A mixture of colours, please?”

You nodded. “Of course, can I take a name for my book?” 

“It’s Jungkook!” The man smiled as he told you his name. To be honest, you didn’t need to know his name. How could you forget his handsome face after all! You just wanted to know more about him; it was an interesting name - one you definitely would never forget.

[aclosetfan]

Aight here’s a 16teen-esque mall au for the ppg that I’ll never write, but enjoy thinking about and have heavily outlined (its long, so most is under the cut):

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup aren’t related in this one, but you’d figure they were. Bubs/Buttercups are fraternal Twins (Mom/Dad=Keane/Prof)

Blossom’s mom is Ms. Bellum, who is dating Ms. Ima Goodwoman. Sedusa is actually a good woman in this lol, she just doesn’t vibe with blossom very well.

It also doesn’t help that Ima’s son, Butch, is now an even more permanent fixture in Blossom’s life. She had always thought school was enough. 

Later on in the story, Bellum and Ima get married and Butch&Bloss have to come to terms with being step siblings (they break up their parents and end up having to parent trap them back together)

This new relationship between Butch&Bloss works out perfectly for Brick because Brick’s bestfriends with Butch and also has a low-key crush on Bloss. They have English class together and while he very much has a goth persona that he can’t compromise (obviously) by a preppy girl like Bloss, he still enjoys fucking with her. Too bad she has that boyfriend :(

Wait what happened to the mall part?? Here we go: 

So, to preference, Bloss is a very smart young women. A real intellectual. Tons of smart extracurriculars. She’s definitely going places, but an Ivy League school costs money. So, she gets a job at the local mall in the bookstore. Bookstores in malls aren’t doing to hot financially and hers gets bought out. It’s going to be replaced by a more mainstream Barnes and Noble, but applications for employees don’t open up until after construction. She’s out a job and for some reason (maybe it’s her horribly inconsistent schedule) no one’s hiring her!! She’s worried about a gap in her resume, but her Mom ends up having the hookup. Turns out her mom’s boss (the mayor, who’s not the Mayor in this one) actually owns the lone hot dog (& pickle) stand in the mall, and it needs a new person to man it. 

(((This is a call back to when blossom, in the show, had to get a job at that hot dog stand 😂 she has to wear the same uniform with the stupid hat. )))

Her best costumer is actually Mayor, which perplexes Blossom because that can’t be a financially sound business move. His weird wisdom guides her.  

ANYWAY, she takes the job and finds out the stand (and the embarrassing uniform) is unfortunately located in front of. . .

. . .HOT TOPIC. 

Who works there??? Lol obviously Mr. Doom and Gloom himself--Brick!

So, Brick’s pretty much the manager there, right? Wrong, but he is a decent employee. He doesn’t actually need a job, but he’s a counterculture rebel, right?? And rebels go against their parents wishes, right?? And his dads (Mojo and Him) don’t want him working in a filthy mall because they’re rich and there’s better things to do. But he’s pretty anti-them so (🖕) he gets the job (Mojo also does not at all understand goth culture)

And then, because the gods favor him, not only does he end up getting to bug Bloss in English, but ALSO on his work breaks. He ends up eating more hotdogs then he ever thought he would in his life, but also, eventually, ends up becoming her study partner. Another fun and great thing for him is that as the story progresses he gets to watch her relationship with that-Jared-guy crumble right before his very eyes, which just adds fuel to his fantasy fire. 

So tbh this story actually really works out for Brick. He gets to spend time with the girl he secretly likes and has a decent shot at getting her to date him!! Blossom, on the other hand, suffers, but who’s there to help her through this suffering?

Well, obviously, Bubbles (and BC)! Bubbles works at Claire’s. She does well on the floor, but does not at all like piercing ears. She’s not good at it. She messes piercings up too frequently and blood freaks her out. Her coworker Mary often has to step up and do it for her. Still, she likes all the sparkly stuff in the store, so it’s generally a good fit. As of right now, Bubbles really just vibes in this story. Her biggest source of conflict is with Boomer, who works at the Spencer’s across from Claire’s.

Boomer is what Brick calls a shitty scene kid. He isn’t, Brick’s just mean, but Boomer rolls with it. Tbh he just likes dying his hair a shit ton of colors. He isn’t an ideal employee and is often found taking one too many breaks, but he’s charming and doesn’t make too many bad jokes about the dildos on display in the back, so they keep him around. He should honestly be on Claire’s payroll instead, because when Mary’s not available he’s the one who does the piercings (and the right way too, he might add, not with that fucked-up piercing gun) for Bubbles. And while that might make him seem like an overall helpful guy, do not be fooled. Bubbles always pays a price.

Boomer also has a shitty mom (femme fatale; she didn’t want a son), so his at-home life isn’t great, but he puts on a brave face. Brick and Butch essentially share custody of the boy. He has a room at each of their homes, which throws Blossom for a loop because not only does she have to share space with Butch later in the story, but also with Boomer (who she ends up tutoring). 

Speaking of Butch, he was fired from Spencer’s after Boomer got him a job there because he was “immature.” He was also fired from Hot Topic for basically the same reason. Then he landed a job at the Sporting Goods store, but again ended up getting fired (but this time it legitimately wasn’t his fault. His manager was just out to get him, as explained later) Now, he works for the malls arcade arena (they have go-karts and bumper cars; it’s one of those good arcades, ya feel?), so he runs a lot of kid’s bday parties. And to everyone’s surprise, he’s actually really good at it. Apparently, Butch really vibes with kids jacked up on sugar. Parents like him too because he flirts with the moms and pulls the dads into “friendly” but competitive go-kart racing betting pools. 

The person doing the actual hard labor at the arcade is Robin. She gets stuck in the chuck-e-cheese-like costume way too often. She’ a good voice of reason for everyone else, especially Butch. She’s his favorite co-worker.

Going back to the sporting goods store. Buttercup works there. She’s the best sales rep they got. It helps that she’s crazy athletic and is on track to get a pretty decent scholarship with some D1 schools. (What’s she play? Idk? Whatever your heart wants) She can’t say though that she’s the most popular amongst her coworkers. She got in a fight with Mitch, which also meant she got in a fight with the twins that follow Mitch around. She definitely didn't get along with Butch when he worked there. And she thinks her manager’s kind of creepy and he’s only gotten creepier since his partner Snake broke up with him

She doesn’t know why Snake broke up with Ace, but she’s pretty sure it has to do with Butch getting fired

Now, this one’s going to throw y’all for a loop, but the reason she gets in a fight with Mitch is because Mitch was picking on her boyfriend Elmer (THATS RIGHT IM SHAKING IT UP—but don’t worry 😏 I love the greens too much).

Elmer works at the comic/geek shop with Mike. She obviously likes her boyfriend and is big buds with Mike. Elmer’s pretty insecure tho and thinks BC’s going to break up with him all the time. This really bums her out. She doesn’t get why he thinks that (b/c she’s out of his league, but she’s oblivious) because she really likes him. Unfortunately, it gets to the point that she eventually decides she has to break up with him because she can’t convince him to trust her (still their relationship is cutesy side plot for a long bit). It’s her first big heartbreak. A heartbreak that is. . .

. . .ideal for Butch because he’s realized he has more then friendly feeling for her. See they weren’t friends AT ALL beforehand, but his new sibling relationship with Blossom has catapulted BC squarely into his life. Slowly they end up going from workplace enemies to eh to friendly to friends to (😉).

A significant turning point in their relationship happened to involve Ace. Butch was on his smoke break and saw Ace making Buttercup uncomfortable. That same night he sees Buttercup trying to leave and Ace/his gang are trying to pressure her into following them. Butch takes offense to this and ends up walking Buttercup to her car. She argues she doesn’t need him saving her, which he readily agrees to, but explains that any excuse to beat that creep Ace up is a good excuse. Afterward, anytime BC has to work close, Butch walks her to her car.

Eventually, he explains to her that he was the one who inadvertently convinced Snake to get out of their toxic-ass relationship with Ace. Ace found out and that’s why he was fired. So, now, he has real beef with the guy. Him and Ace don’t get along at all. To the point where Butch was banned from the sports store, but he sneaks in to see his friends and mess with BC. 

HAHA does the story ever end???? 

The story ends when Barnes n’ Noble opens. Blossom gets the job, ditches the old boring boyfriend, gets the goth boy, saves her mom’s relationship, and gains a sibling. 

The format of the story would be pretty episodic, with a conflict/resolution in each chapter. But what’s written above highlights the over arching plot lines

and holy shit! how could I forget the cherry on top??? Brick and Princess are cousins, and she does NOT let him forget this. 

((If you want more specific details ya gotta ask. there’s a lot more then just this.))