#i built a couple little shelves for my car

[argiopi]

hello argi welcome back from the woods were the woods fun how were the woods!

after wandering back into society i felt like a wild beast trying to play by made-up rules so i drove 2000+ miles in four<?> days out to the mountains while concussed

woods were great i highly recommend to anyone needing to uproot their life 👍

(you know what was a fun discovery. there is a wildly overproportionate percentage of queer & autistic people in outdoor careers. who knew!!)

[unicreamuwu]

The Little Batgirl (Yandere Platonic Batfam x Child Reader)

Chapter 1 - Welcome to the Wayne Manor

Warning: Yandere Themes and minor bullying from Damian

(Anything that reader says in a bolded text means she's in "thought of mind.")

The car stops in front of some metal gates.

Bruce helps Y/N out of the car, and she looks up at the giant mansion that is in front of her.

(Do NOT steal my art!)

Y/N looks up at awe as the mansion was right in front of her.

"So, this guy's rich! Can't believe this is going to be my new life," she thinks to herself as she stares.

Then, a butler comes out and bows in a respected manner towards the little girl.

"Greetings, Miss Y/N. Welcome to your new home, I hope you'll be happy here," he said in a kind manner.

"The butler knows my name, too!" She thinks to herself with wide eyes.

When Y/N goes inside, the first thing she sees is a young boy who looks a little older than her. Maybe about a couple of years.

For some reason, she felt an uneasy vibe from him.

Bruce basically pushed the young girl towards him and told him to help her look around.

The boy stares down at Y/N before he lends out her hand.

"I'm Damian Wayne, the only biological son of Bruce Wayne," he introduces himself in a cool tone.

"Um... hi? I'm Y/N..." She said in an awkward tone as she accepted his hand to shake.

Damian then walks around Y/N as he eyes her appearance up and down before his face was an inch from her's.

"Your hair is messy. I would brush it if I were you," he tells her in a cold tone before he turns his heels and walks off to lead her for the tour.

Y/N could only stare at him with a blank stare.

"Wow, what a rude boy..." she thoughts before she follows him.

~~~~~

While Y/N was walking around for the tour, she stopped to see Damian showing her a portrait of a strange looking family tree.

"This is the main batfamily line," he said as he showed the family portrait.

She examines it as she turns her gaze to Damian.

"What's the batfamily?" She asks.

"It's what we call ourselves," he tells her before he leads the way again.

"Also, that bat plush looks old and dirty. Get a new one or something," he tells her as he walks.

When he said that, Y/N stops to think about what he was talking about.

Then, she realized that he was talking about Batsie, her favorite and only plush doll.

"Hey! Don't call my best friend that!" She yells out to him as she jogs after him.

~~~~~

As Y/N followed Damian, she gets to see so many rooms around the mansion.

Then, he takes her to the batcave.

There, Y/N's eyes brighten with amusement as she looks around the enormous batcave.

There were so many cool artifacts, such as the world's giant penny.

"Where did you get that dinosaur?" She asks Damian as she points at a huge dinosaur model.

"Father built a time machine to travel back in time to get this," he tells her.

"Really?"

"No."

Damian walks out of the batcave, leaving Y/N all alone I her thoughts filled uup.

"So, does he have a time machine or not?" She asks.

~~~~~

After the tour and Damian basically calling rude names towards Y/N, she was trying to find her room.

When she finally finds a pink door that looks freshly painted, she goes inside.

In her room, there was a massive pink princess bed with pink and white covers and some fluffy pillows, and the shelves in that room had various kinds of books and basically almost all of the stuffed animals in the world.

Although the room looks beautiful and adorable at the same time, Y/N felt an odd feeling when she was inside.

However, it was all shrugged off before she flung herself onto her new bed.

~~~~~

As Y/N was technically jumping up and down on her bed, a pair of eyes were watching her.

Damian then moves away from the door and walks up to his father.

"Did you make sure that you put in everything she liked?" Bruce asks him in his usual cold tone.

Damian nods in response.

"How do you know that those were the dolls she liked?" He asks him which made Bruce chuckle.

Something about Bruce's chuckle sounded a bit darker than his usual laugh.

"I have my ways. Now, get everyone here. We're going to throw our new member a welcome party," he tells him before he walks off.

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3

Five years earlier:

She wasn’t used to Georgia’s humidity. 

Nesta never wanted to get used to it. Standing just outside the little white house that now belonged to her, Nesta wiped sweat from the back of her neck. The town was small—no more than a couple thousand people, if that. No big buildings, no major downtown, and worst of all, no Chinese food. Not unless she wanted to creep closer to Atlanta and given that Nesta’s car was a piece of rusting junk built a full decade before she was born, she doubted she’d make it.

So much for being a hot shot lawyer. 

Nesta dumped her bag just inside the white picket fence, ignoring the peeling paint and splintering wood. It was the kind of place Elain would have thrived in. With a sigh, Nesta turned her back entirely on the overgrown yard and began walking along the only road in the town to the center—aptly named Main Street. 

There was practically no one out. A few older woman walked with looped arms down the sidewalks while a harried mother pushing a stroller made her way toward the only grocery store. Nesta made her way toward the marble carved library, taking the steps one at a time despite the unrelenting sun overhead.

The air inside was ice cold and empty save of two women who were quietly talking to each other. One of them—the red head—clearly worked there given she was behind the desk. The other sat perched on the counter, a book in her lap. They had been clearly talking with some animation though now that Nesta had intruded, the pair stared with wary suspicion.

Nesta hadn’t come to make friends. Lifting her chin with all the haughtiness her mother had instilled in her, Nesta marched toward the shelves lined with fantasy and romance and began reading the jackets. 

She needed a distraction. All she could think about lately was what would happen if Rhysand ever found them. Surely he was irate…he’d be out for blood. They’d flat out lied, pointing the finger straight at the notorious mafioso and the feds, in their eagerness to put him away, had overlooked all the evidence suggesting otherwise.

But Rhysand would know.

And Nesta wanted to forget him. Mobsters lived short lives, besides—in a year, he might be dead and the whole thing over. She could keep herself busy for that long. So long as the library kept books on the shelves, Nesta could find something to do.

She brought them to the front desk where the red head and the dark haired woman waited. “Library card?” The woman’s name tag read Gwyn. 

“No,” Nesta said, fishing out her new drivers license. Agnes Smith. Sure. That sounded real. “Here.”

Gwyn eyed it for a moment. “You don’t look like an Agnes.”

“Tell that to my mom.”

Gwyn began typing on her computer, glancing at Nesta’s ID. “Emerie,” the dark skinned, dark haired woman said with a friendlier smile. “I think you look like an Agnes.” Gwyn rolled her eyes. 

“You should come by the general store,” Emerie added, glancing at the ID for Nesta’s address. “You moved into the old Brandon house.”

“Grizzly murder happened there,” Gwyn said seriously.

“Did not. He died of all old age,” Emerie said quickly. “It’s been run down for a while. I’d be happy to help you out.”

“Do you like women?” Gwyn asked suddenly and bluntly. 

Taken aback, Nesta said, “Um…not really—romantically, anyway.”

Emerie sighed. “It was worth a shot.”

Nesta almost blurted out that she’d still take friends before she thought better of it. No need to be defensive or obsessive. “Where is everyone today?”

“It’s ten am,” Gwyn said.

“They’re at church,” Emerie replied when it was clear Nesta didn’t understand. 

“But not you?” Nesta questioned.

Gwyn handed her ID back, along with a white library card bearing her pretend name. “We aren’t welcome.”

“Why?”

Emerie grimaced while Gwyn scanned Nesta’s book. “They think I’m a homewrecker…and Emerie likes women. Openly.” 

“Fuck them,” Nesta said without thinking. It was the first smile she’d seen from Gwyn—a small, half formed thing, but a smile all the same. “We should start our own religion.”

“That sounds like blasphemy,” Emerie teased.

“It sounds like witchcraft,” Gwyn added, pushing Nesta’s stack of books toward her. “I’m in.”

Which was how Nesta found herself hosting brunch that Sunday with two strangers in a house that didn’t belong to her.

PRESENT:

“Who is that?” Emerie asked, sitting on Nesta’s front porch holding a sweating glass of iced tea. 

“He’s not local at all,” Gwyn agreed, lowering her sunglasses to take a look at the tall, muscular man making his way toward Nesta’s gate. Wearing mirrored shades and a suit that was bursting at the seams, he looked like he was playing dress up as a cop.

His dark, wavy hair half pulled in a bun didn’t seem regulation, for one. But something about him seemed off somehow. 

“He one of yours?” Gwyn questioned. Nesta had long since betrayed the secrecy she’d been sworn to, telling her friends everything but the most critical piece of truth in order to protect Feyre. 

Nesta scratched her ear. No, this man was definitely not one of hers. 

“Want us to stay?” Gwyn asked, likely thinking about the shotgun mounted in the back of her pick-up truck.

“I can handle him,” Nesta assured them. Gwyn and Emerie stood, leaving behind their cups to slip from the yard. Gwyn nodded at the man once, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. That left Nesta standing at the top of her porch steps wearing a butter yellow sundress, arms crossed over her chest.

“Ma’am,” he the man began as he approached, his expression unreadable. She waited, watching as he took off his sunglasses only for recognition to slam into her. Oh. She knew this man from pictures.  “My name is Cassian.”

Rhysands right hand man. Nesta didn’t move, unwilling to betray she knew who he was. “What can I do for you, Cassian?”

Not even a fake name? Was he that confident she’d never done one google search? He had a mugshot, had appeared in the papers just enough times for Nesta to recognize him. They called him The Lord of Bloodshed thanks to his rumored job of handling the things Rhysand didn’t want staining his hands or his conscience. 

And that man was standing at the bottom of her steps, armed just beneath his suit jacket. 

“I’m here on behalf of your case,” he said like a pretty liar. 

“Oh? Has something happened?”

“An indictment is coming. I’m to escort you back home once Rhysand has been charged.”

Liar.

Still, there was no reason to call him out on it. If Rhysand had found her, he must be still looking for her sisters. She didn’t believe for a minute he’d found Feyre—his bruiser would have pointed his gun at her by way of greeting had he. No, they were monitoring her.

And Nesta could watch them right back. 

So she smiled, hoping she seemed innocent and sweet. “What a relief,” she lied, stepping to the side so he could come up. “I was starting to think I’d be trapped here forever.”

“Can I come inside?” Cassian asked, looking around her immaculate yard with interest. “It’s hot out here.”

“Better get used to that,” Nesta said, pulling open the screen door so Cassian could get the lay of the land. “Are you staying here?”

“If you don’t mind. The hotel is…”

Roach filled, she knew. People still went, content to carry out their clandestine affairs in filth so long as no one ever found out. 

“I have a spare room,” Nesta told him. Cassian turned back for his own car—a brand new jeep  that was laughably out of place in her little neighborhood. He returned with two bags slung over his broad shoulders, eyes hidden behind his glasses. The sun hit the golden brown of his skin, making it seem as if he glowed and tragically, Nesta thought he was a good looking man.

He’d kill her if she wasn’t careful…but attractive, all the same. 

Nesta showed him to the smaller room she kept made up just in case Gwyn or Emerie wanted to stay the night, thinking the full sized bed didn’t seem big enough for this man. He had to duck beneath the doorway, putting him well over six foot three—maybe six six? He made Nesta, who stood tall at five nine, feel dainty by comparison.

“Should I call you Cassian, or…?”

“Cassian is fine,” he replied, sunglasses resting atop his head. “This is perfect, by the way. I promise you’ll barely know I exist.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nesta said in a flirty voice as she eyed him. “I think it would be hard not to notice you.” He grinned, unaware that a real agent would have shut her down in seconds. “Well, Miss Agnes, I’ll do my best to keep out of your hair.”

Nesta offered him another smile, mind racing. If she survived tonight she assumed she’d survive as long as he wanted her to—and as long as she didn’t admit she knew what he was. That meant keeping it from Gwyn and Emerie, who wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from treating him like a criminal.

He thought she was prey, but Nesta Archeron was a survivor. A predator, just like this man. And she had lived in Georgia for five years—she had guns hidden all over the house. He didn’t need to know any of that, though. Nesta waited while he unpacked some of his things and peeked around her little house, mostly quiet as he cased her. Sitting on her sofa beneath a ceiling fan moving at top speed, Nesta heard him push open the back door and walk through the yard where she assumed he was testing the gate.

He messed with windows when he returned, pushing back curtains to peer out into the street. “You’re wide open out here,” he finally said with a frown on his pretty face. And he was pretty—sculpted and rough in a way that was hard to ignore. Nesta found herself noticing the green in his hazel eyes and the way stubble clung to his strong jaw. A slit cut through his eyebrow while faint scars littered his jaw and hands, betraying a man who knew his way around a fight. 

He was fooling no one but himself. 

“This is where you put me,” she reminded him, wondering if he understood what she was really saying. 

“Maybe we’ll keep the curtains closed,” Cassian said, as if Nesta didn’t do that anyway. The sun was unforgiving and the only way to survive swampy summers was to try and keep things shady and cool. 

“Do you want to take off your jacket?”

“I want to take everything off,” he admitted, shrugging out of what she had to assume was stolen. “Even my own skin.”

“That’s how I felt when I first got here,” she told him. He’d look back on all this and remember—he’d realize she knew the moment he stepped onto her lawn. “You get used to it.”

She was going to kill him, she realized. The knowledge slammed into Nesta’s chest violently, paralyzing her for a moment. She’d never killed anyone…but at some point she’d have to kill this man before he killed her. Cassian, for his part, was unaware of the slant of her thoughts. He must have already known when he came down that he planned to kill her just as soon as he was given the order. She doubted he intended to take her home…and if he did, it would be under duress. 

That was future Nesta’s problem, though. For now, all she had to do was stay one step ahead of him. And that meant pretending like she believed every word coming out of his mouth and ignored all the obvious signs that he was a liar. 

“Hungry?” she asked. 

“Starving,” Cassian agreed. He vanished into the room she’d given him, leaving Nesta enough time to try and steady her nervous hands. By the time Cassian returned, Nesta was slicing up meat for the grill outside. There was absolutely no way she was turning on her oven.

“Can I help you with that?”

Instinct demanded she say no. She didn’t want Cassian anywhere near lighter fluid, for one. He looked so earnest and she was pretending, so Nesta nodded. “I haven’t seasoned it yet.”

“Leave it to me,” Cassian said with an easy smile. And she did, watching him from the corner of her eye while he seasoned her meat and vegetables. He vanished out the back door and when he returned, sweat glistened over his face. Nesta found herself standing there for a moment, staring as he pulled the rest of his hair off his face, biceps straining against the cuff of his t-shirts. 

Cassian was heavily tattooed with black ink that crawled over his arms and up his neck, broken only by the sweaty shirt he wore. 

“Why do people live like this?” Cassian asked, wiping his brow on his sleeve. “It’s horrible.”

“I keep saying it,” she replied honestly. “I would have preferred a colder climate.”

“Next time,” Cassian grumbled. “What are you doing now?”

“Cutting up fruit. Want some?”

Cassian picked a blueberry out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “How do you spend your time, anyway?”

“I’m the town lawyer,” Nesta informed him. “I work in a little office down on Main Street.”

“And when you’re not working?”

She shrugged. “I have friends…but I mostly read.”

He glanced toward her shelves of books in the living room, visible from the hall connecting the two. “Anything interesting?”

“Take a look,” was all Nesta could think to respond. Cassian didn’t take her up on her offer, turning instead to go check on the grilling meat. Had she not known who he was, Nesta might have thought the awkward environment was just because a stranger had invaded her space.

It felt almost normal. 

Almost.

Because Nesta couldn’t forget a killer was sitting across from her, his hands soaked in blood. She kept coming back to it as they ate in relative silence. Why had Rhysand sent him here? What did he want with her? Nesta needed to figure it out.

And figure it out fast.

CASSIAN:

Nesta Archeron was beautiful.

Cassian hadn’t expected it. He’d seen a picture of Feyre only once and had kind of imposed her face on all three Archerons. Walking up to her house had been a surreal experience. For one, all Cassian could see was her tits pressed against the neckline of that sundress she wore. Holy fucking Christ, but Nesta’s body was something out of his most depraved fantasies.

But her eyes were something else. Icy blue and calculated, it was no surprise Nesta had survived five years out mostly on her own. Did she even know her sisters were guarded by federal agents while she was left to fend for herself? 

It irked Cassian. Sure, he was grateful he’d been able to gain access to her life so easily, but surely someone was keeping their eyes on this woman? So the likes of him couldn’t just stroll into her home and do whatever he liked with her? 

But after two days living with Nesta, Cassian learned that no one seemed to care if she lived or died. Which was just as well—because he was starting to care. Just a little, he told himself that second night as he laid in bed staring up at the ceiling fan.

His only job was to get her back to Rhysand in one piece once he’d tracked down Feyre and married her. Nesta wouldn’t even know until it was all too late and the feds would lose their pathetic case.

And then Cassian could go back to his regular life in a place that wasn’t drenched in humidity. How did anyone sleep? Even with Nesta’s air conditioner going at full blast, Cassian found himself shucking off his shirt and kicking the sheets to the floor in a desperate attempt at sleep. 

Thinking the living room might be cooler, Cassian dragged his blanket with him to the couch where he found Nesta, half hidden in the dark with a piece of toast in her hand.

Her little night dress was enough to empty out his mind. Why was she so hot? Cassian could see every curve of her perfect body beneath the silken blue fabric and her hair was loose around her shoulders rather than braided in a crown atop her head.

He wanted to lick the salt off her skin.

He wanted to lick a lot of things, actually.

Cassian was fairly certain federal agents weren’t supposed to have sex with their charges—even if Rhysand was certain Vanserra had something going on with the middle Archeron. Cassian wasn’t anything close to a cop and fucking was his favorite thing to do. 

“I ah..” Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly hyper aware that all he wore was a pair of loose shorts. Nesta was looking only at his face with a grim determination—as if she found it very difficult to do so.

You can look at any part of me you like.

Having sex with her would certainly pass the time. 

“It’s hot,” Nesta said, flipping on a lamp on the side table. “I keep meaning to get someone out here to look at my AC, but…”

“I’ll look at it,” Cassian promised. “Before the sun comes up.”

“You’re handy?”

He was, actually. “I grew up with a single mom,” he said, flashing her a smile before making his way to the sofa. “We didn’t have a lot of money, so I learned how to do repairs.” Nesta tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Unwilling to give her a reason to banish him, Cassian made a show of fluffing the couch cushions before stretching himself out. 

“My shower doesn’t have hot water,” she finally told him.

Cassian grinned in the dark. “I can take a look at that, too.”

“I would appreciate it,” Nesta replied. 

“Why don’t you make me a list? I’ve got nothing else to do all day and I feel like a freeloader sitting on your couch.”

That was true. Cassian was used to staying busy and suddenly he had nothing but downtime. It was tempting to go to the library and find his own books to read and treat the entire thing like a vacation. This would help build trust between them, he rationalized.

And Cassian liked having something to do. He liked being useful to people. 

“I could do that,” Nesta said, still standing in his line of sight. Even in the dark, Cassian could see her nipples pointed through the fabric. He wanted to touch them.

“I’m here to help,” Cassian reminded her.

“Of course,” she said, her tone unreadable to him. 

He nearly asked if she wanted to join him. It was on the tip of his tongue, but Nesta beat him to speaking, adding, “Well. Sleep well, Cassian.”

“You too,” he said, disappointment ribboning through him. It was absurd to think a woman like Nesta Archeron was going to crawl in his dirtbag lap.

Still, Cassian could dream. And he did, waking with a throbbing erection he had to discreetly handle in the freezing cold shower. Cassian hadn’t noticed it wasn’t hot given the air was miserable and he didn’t want to take a boiling shower for once. He could hear Nesta in her room listening to music, up with dawn just like he was. 

He found tools out in her garden shed, unused and rusty. They’d likely belonged to the previous tenant, whoever they’d been. Still, they worked well enough for Cassian’s purposes. What she needed was an entirely new unit. Cassian guessed the old one was over a decade long and judging from the rattling, it was on its final legs.

He had money. A lot of money. Would she believe him if he told her the agency had decided to replace it? Nesta didn’t strike him as particularly stupid—if they’d never helped her before, she might not believe they’d help her now. He couldn’t live the way they had been, though, which was how Cassian found himself on the phone with the local repairman giving out his credit card details over the phone.

Nesta was gone by the time Cassian came back into the house, drenched in sweat and slightly sunburned on the tops of his arms. It was a relief to get into the basement and work on the water heater, and by the time Cassian finished, the service guys were there to replace Nesta’s air conditioner. It required them to turn the air off which was actual hell, though once it was back up, Cassian felt instant relief. 

Nesta returned with a scowl on her face, dressed in a pencil skirt that made Cassian’s mouth dry out. How had Archeron managed to create her? Cassian had met him—he was nothing special. An unremarkable man in every way imaginable, including his appearance.

Nesta could have modeled. Could have had her face on billboards, her body in magazines. Had he met her back home, he knew he’d have dogged her steps hoping for just a look in his direction. 

“Any news?” Nesta asked, sliding her keys and purse onto a side table. Cassian watched her kick off her heels and turn her face upwards toward the vents blowing cold air.

“Nope,” he said. What would Rhys do if he kept her here for a year? Kick his ass, likely. “Rough day?”

Holding up a cloth shopping bag, Nesta nodded her head while Cassian rose to take it from her. Inside he found an assortment of peppers, onions, and a rather nice steak he assumed she wanted to grill. Cassian had never grilled before he met her and found that he rather liked it. In fact, he liked the whole little game he was playing. Pretending to be the sort of man who had a house and a wife and a barbeque suited him.

In another life, Cassian would have thrived.

“I’m working on another divorce and her soon to be ex stopped by to tell me what he thought about me.”

“I hope it was to tell you you’re beautiful,” Cassian replied without thinking as he peeled stickers from the vegetables.

“No it wasn’t,” Nesta replied, her tone uncertain. “It was to tell me what a bitch I am.”

Cassian arched a brow. “Did you tell him to get fucked?”

Nesta chuckled. “Not this time…but I wanted to. He thinks if he digs his heels in, he can avoid this divorce but it’s happening either way.”

“This is why I’m not married,” Cassian said, reaching for a knife.

“Oh?” Nesta asked, an amused smile on her perfect face. “Is that the only reason?”

Cassian couldn’t help his grin. “I’m off-putting to women, of course.”

“There it is,” she said with a pretty laugh. “Want any help?”

“Get out of my kitchen, Nes,” Cassian replied, swatting her away. “Water’s fixed, by the way.”

The whole thing was warm and domestic. Nesta thanked him before sauntering off, hips swaying with each step. The only thing to temper Cassian’s hot blood was the hotter grill outside and a reminder that Nesta was off limits to him.

He was merely a guard meant to get her back home before the feds scooped her and her sisters back up again. Collateral, he supposed, for the game Rhys was playing with Feyre. Cassian was grateful for that, at least—if Rhys called him and told him to kill her, he wasn’t certain he could do it. 

Cassian returned to find Nesta in a pair of tiny little shorts and a pink tank top. He wished she’d pull her hair down, still left in its braided crown, though in truth he could have stood at the backdoor and stared at her for an embarrassing length of time.

“What did I say about the kitchen?” he teased, setting his tray of meat and vegetables on the counter beside her.

“I wanted to make a little salad,” Nesta told him, showing him the bowl. “Do you even eat vegetables?”

“On occasion,” Cassian said with an easy grin. “I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me, though. I’m not picky.”

“Tell me about yourself, Cassian,” Nesta ordered once they were seated at her little wooden table. 

“There’s nothing interesting to tell,” he replied. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’ll bet you’re a lot more interesting than I am.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Nesta murmured.

“C’mon,” Cassian cajoled. Nesta sighed, eyes narrowed with that suspicious look he was growing so fond of. Was there such a thing as love at first sight, he wondered? Cassian was starting to suspect he was under its spell. Under hers, anyway. Nesta relented, telling him little stories he figured were probably half true. 

Cassian knew the right questions to ask, at any rate. Careful not to mention her family, Cassian asked her about everything else. Nesta spoke about going to law school and living in Georgia, mentioning two friends she’d made—Gwyn the librarian and Emerie the grocer. He’d seen them on his porch when he first arrived. 

He needed to do a little digging on them, but he figured they were likely fine. 

“What about you?” Nesta asked, their meal long concluded. Cassian began gathering up dishes.

“What about me?”

“Are you from Georgia?” she questioned.

Cassian chuckled. “No, I’m not from Georgia. Just got unlucky in my assignment, I guess.”

“Why did you want to do this work?”

Cassian considered that. “I’m good at it,” he replied, drumming his fingers along the edge of the sink. “I kind of fell into it, actually. I guess I succumb easily to peer pressure because when one of my friends suggested I apply, I did it without hesitation.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There had been no application process—he and Rhys had become friends as boys and Rhys’s mother had been like a second mother to Cassian. He’d always wanted to repay them for their kindness and when Rhys asked him to join him as his right hand man, the answer had been obvious.

He couldn’t tell Nesta that, though. She didn’t poke, either, seemingly satisfied with his answer. While Cassian cleaned up, Nesta made her way to the living room, picked up a book, and curled up on the couch. Cassian watched her pull a blanket from the back of the sofa and drape it over her tanned knees.

“Cold, huh?” he joked. 

“You fixed—”

A gunshot silenced both of them. Nesta jumped clean out of her skin, book falling from her trembling hands. Cassian frowned, his own heart racing with excitement. Finally, something interesting was happening.

His own gun was in his hand before Nesta ever stood. “Don’t move,” he whispered, motioning for her to get away from the window.

“Send the bitch outside!” a man’s voice yelled, filling Cassian with cold rage. He was at the door in a moment, flinging it open so it was his large body filling the space. On the lawn, a man stumbled forward, gun pointed at the sky. He pulled the trigger again, clearly trying to intimidate Cassian.

Cassian had been tied up before, a gun pressed against his lips while his cock was threatened with a knife. Some fucking rural drunk with a gun didn’t scare him. In truth, very little scared Cassian. He’d cheated death more times than he could count and he knew, as he stepped onto the lawn in the fading daylight, that he wasn’t going to die today.

This man, on the other hand…well. Cassian supposed it would depend on what he did next.

“Lower your weapon!” Cassian barked, his voice rough and menacing. The man jerked to look at him, eyes wide and watery. “Put your gun down or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Send out your bitch—”

Cassian didn’t shoot him, but he did hit him in the face. Hard. Maybe too hard given the way the man crumpled at his feet as blood poured from his nose. Only the alcohol kept him from passing out which was lucky for Cassian.

Crouching in the grass, Cassian grabbed the man by his thinning hair and forced his head into an unnatural angle. “What did you say?”

“I called her a bitch,” the man spluttered through the blood. 

Cassian cocked his gun with his free hand and pressed it to the man's cheek. “Try again,” he whispered, fully intending on killing this man on the front lawn. Cassian’s finger pressed against the trigger just as Nesta barked, “Cassian!”

He twisted to look at her, arms crossed over her chest. She was fury incarnate right then, marching toward the pair of them without a care in the world. 

“Get out of her, Brent,” Nesta ordered, pointing her finger toward the gate. “This is embarrassing, even for you.”

“You ruined my life—”

“You ruined your own life by cheating on your wife!” Nesta spat without remorse. “And you’re ruining it by assaulting a federal officer.”

Cassian nearly choked. Did he look like a cop right then? 

“He assaulted me,” Brent protested, shoving out of Cassian’s grip.

“If I see you near her again, you’ll find yourself six feet under before you can utter one fucking word. Do we understand each other?” Cassian asked, rising to his full height. Brent glanced from the gun in Cassian’s hand to Cassian himself before offering a sullen nod. 

“Whatever,” he muttered, clearly trying to save face. Cassian watched him stumble off, forcing himself not to pull the trigger anyway at the man’s retreating back. Nesta came to stand beside Cassian, resting her soft, small hand on his forearm.

“That’s the guy getting the divorce,” she told him, as if Cassian cared who he was. Letting someone who threatened him walk away unscathed felt wrong and Cassian longed to rectify it. Where did he live, he wondered? 

“I can see why,” Cassian muttered, turning back for the house. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“He’s not coming back—”

“He pointed a gun at you,” Cassian growled, the memory filling him with rage. 

Nesta only shrugged, proving that she was still part of the life whether she wanted to be or not. Did she know what a liar her younger sister was, he wondered? Did Nesta know it had been Feyre who killed her father? Looking at her in the warm light of the house, Cassian decided that a woman like Nesta wouldn’t allow herself to live this way if she hadn’t known. If she wasn’t protecting someone. 

Who was protecting her? 

“I’m fine,” Nesta reminded him. But Cassian knew all too well how differently things could have gone if he hadn’t been there. Cassian knew how quickly a bullet could end things. 

“I’ll feel better out here,” he said, setting his gun on the glass coffee table. “You won’t change my mind, Nes.”

She hesitated, eyes moving from him to the window. “Fine.”

Cassian had no intention of sleeping, though. He waited until he knew Nesta was asleep, slipping into her bedroom just to check. She was so lovely even in sleep and Cassian had to resist the urge to touch her face. Not tonight. Another night, perhaps—but not this night. 

The thing about small towns he found himself appreciating was how easy it was to find people. Slipping into a local bar, Cassian mentioned what had happened to the bartender, who helpfully told him where Brent lived. 

He didn’t bother to slip in quietly. If he wanted to be unnoticed, he would have called up Azriel. Cassian liked when his marks were scared, for whatever that said about him. Flexing his fingers, Cassian picked through the dirty, mostly empty house. He supposed Nesta was helping to clean him out.

Good for her.

Brent was waiting in a fraying brown chair, a bottle of Jack Daniels held loosely in one hand. “Knew you weren’t no cop,” he muttered. “You got the look of a felon.”

“Have you been talking to my third grade teacher?” Cassian asked, his tone light. “She used to say the same thing.”

“You ain’t foolin’ no one but that girl of yours,” Brent told him, eyeing the gun in Cassian’s hand. 

“She’s the only one I need to fool,” Cassain agreed, coming closer. “I swore an oath to protect her.”

“I didn’t hurt her.”

“But you scared her,” Cassian said in that same friendly tone. “You came to her house and threatened her and I can’t stand for that.”

“Well, I don’t really care if I scared her. Sometimes women ought to be a little afraid.”

Cassian clenched his fingers. “Is that so?”

“Make your threats and get the fuck out,” Brent ordered, taking another swig of whiskey. Cassian saw his gun on a chipped side table. 

“You don’t have much going for you, do you Brent? Wife left you, took all your money…is about to take your house. You’ve got no job, no friends…anyone would lose it.”

“Yeah,” Brent mumbled, eyes glassy. “You get it.”

“If I were you, I’d probably kill myself too,” Cassian added, holding Brent’s gun in his hand. Brent’s eyes found him, big and wide with shock. 

“What did you say?”

Cassian shrugged, making his way closer to the inebriated man. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised when they find you. I’ll bet it takes them days before someone comes checking.”

“Look, you don’t have to do this. I can…I can pay you—”

“No you can’t,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t take your money. This is about honor, of which you have none because an honorable man wouldn’t try and threaten a woman for doing her job.”

“She fucked me over—”

“You fucked yourself,” Cassian interrupted, reaching for Brent’s hair a second time. “And you made a mistake coming after her.”

“I’m sorry—”

Cassian pressed the barrel of the gun beneath Brent’s jaw.

“I know you are,” he said, holding the man’s gaze. “It’s not enough.”

And then he pulled the trigger. The relief he felt was instantaneous, his blood lust slaked. It took another few seconds to arrange the gun in Brent’s hand, letting both his arm and the weapon fall lifelessly into his lap. The bottle of Jack hit the floor with a thud, spilling over stained wood floors.

The scene was practically a work of art. Textbook suicide—no one would look twice at him or Nesta. That didn’t stop him from wiping his prints on the way out, just in case. He found himself back on the couch, face washed of blood, before two am. 

Cassian had been right about one thing: it took them three days to find Brent.

“Suicide,” Nesta said crisply when she learned, eyes focused on Cassian’s face.

He only smiled. 

[inkofamethyst]

September 3, 2023

Okay okay alright now for a bit more positivity because I didn't actually spend the last several days in a slump, I promise (not that I'm trying to minimize my feelings or anything of course).

Had a virtual lab meeting on Monday but had to leave partway through to go to the airport. Somehow managed to eat something in the car. Worked on my braids in the airport, on the plane, in the uber to the hotel. Disinfected my hotel room, ate dinner at a diner next to my hotel which was entirely empty except for me and a geriatric couple (the food was just okay and I think the waiter might've been flirting with me but I was too drained to engage and the food wasn't nearly good enough for me to want to go back). Went back to the hotel and worked on my hair for another several hours. Spoilers, even though I finished them that night I wasn't able to find boiling water to set them the whole week. Gonna do that first thing tomorrow.

Tuesday was the major event day. Started with a 9-am departmental information session followed by lunch with most of my cohort (a new guy was added to my cohort (he was also affiliated with the department prior to applying (I think this is important to note not necessarily because I think this was unfair but because.. I dunno I just find it interesting and can't really articulate why (don't get me wrong he's got a crazy amazing CV)))) followed by the snoozefest that was convocation (it was kind of nice but the theater was dark and I just zoned out a bunch) followed by a resource fair (where I scored some free stuff). I took a break and recovered in my hotel before heading back out to a social hour where I met some chem people who were really nice. Then I slept.

I should note that immediately after lunch one of my cohortmates and I went to get our student IDs in the student center. The thing about the student center is that you need a student ID to traverse the student center. So. We waited for a passerby to swipe us into the elevator area because you need an ID to get to the elevators. We got into an elevator with no clue where we were supposed to go and were stuck in there because you need an ID to use the elevator. Someone called it up and we got off on some random floor. We googled the floor we were supposed to go to and figured we'd use the stairwell to get there instead. We enter the stairwell and reach the correct door but couldn't enter the floor because you need an ID to exit the stairwell. We called the ID office and they were happy to help haha.

Wednesday morning was super rainy. I had a conversation and a walk with my advisor which was very nice and reassuring. Got some keys, found my office, met some people. Walked back to the hotel and rested for most of the day. Walked to a Chinese restaurant and got stuffed steamed buns which were amazing even if I couldn't tell whether I was supposed to eat them with my hands or with chopsticks (the table next to me used chopsticks so uh I'll try that next time).

Thursday was beautiful. I got brunch at a little waffle spot and it was delicious. I sat on campus in the shade for an hour or two, just watching the people stroll by. I explored the grad student center (not the one that caused me trouble lol) and it was really nice. My parents arrived and we checked into a hotel closer to my apartment then got Thai (had the best pad see ew I've ever had) and rested for the evening.

Friday was move-in day. Got even more keys. Transferred everything up, went to buy some things, and worked on construction (I built a set of ikea shelves!) until late that night. Set up wifi all by myself. We popped over to a latin american joint that was still open and I had the most amazing rice bowl with black beans and plantains and some incredible green sauce.

More errands Saturday morning until we had to return the rental car. Tried a vegetarian place and it was pretty good, though not a favorite. We took public transport back to campus and walked from there to my apartment. Unpacked bins and organized clothes until late evening. Several hugs later it was just me again (plus my roommate). Slept.

Today I'm thankful for the discord call with my photo- and cello- friends (with a brief cameo by my puzzle-friend). It felt really nice to laugh and carry on with people I know. I stayed on much longer than I should have. Very sleepy.

Lots to do tomorrow (meal prep, tidy, talk with roommate, set alarms).

[torque-witch]

178! 182! 226! 97! 252!

178 - first concert : I’m honestly not sure what the first true one was, but I’d personally like to think of it as King Diamond. That’s the first one I remember really having a good time and being introduced to something other than drunken songs about America 💀 OR when I saw Mac Miller at college before he was super big. I think that was a lot more special than I realized looking back.

182 - 10 songs on shuffle

1. Stonecold, Lucid

2. So Wrong, Illenium

3. Words, Feint

4. Come Back Down, Mediks

5. Tumbling Down, soupandreas

6. Ghost Spores, Varien

7. Nomophobia, James Egbert

8. Dreamers, Hopium

9. Hideaway, Loosid

10. Castaway, Grant

226 - something that made me smile

You know, the most recent thing I really can’t tell the internet 😈 but it’s simply because I have an inflated ego and brain worms right now. But generally it’s because having a tangible effect on people that you can see with your eyes is infatuating to me lmfaooo

97 - what would your dream house be like?

We’ve been looking here and there. Dream house I try not to think about since it won’t happen, but some key things I really would like to incorporate would be a green house with electricity and a bathtub and a hammock or something so I can read books under the stars. A functional garden with a designed walkway, or little nooks for hanging out in. Getting licensed for bee keeping, maybe have some quail. I really like third floor finished attics as an art space/office with a sky light. We’ve seen a couple places with like semi hidden little goblin corners for naps/reading. I deeply desire a clawfoot tub I can finally fit in, and Johnny also wants a waterfall shower. We also want an outside shower. A separate garage would be nice for wood working, welding, spray painting, cars, etc. My parents’ house had a nook also that’s cute. A big triple sided window with built in book shelves or at least a comfy bench. Radiators. No more carpets. A wrap around porch or deck. Wooden privacy fences. Something simple, but comforting.

252 - Five items you lust after (there was a typo in the original so I hope this is what it meant)

1. A sword that was made for me

2. A big switch console

3. A lime green Challenger

4. The money for the supplies I need to run my business properly and grow as an artist

5. A clothing haul to help me feel more masculine

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Havre de Grace

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I'm nervous and excited and really tired but I'm too jittery to nap even though Emmett tells me I can.

I look out the window because I've never been up here.

He tells me how to say 'Susquehanna' and tells me that Havre de Grace is a tiny town that's right where the Susquehanna river meets the Chesapeake bay.

Yes, it's the same one we take the huge bridge over but this is the top and it's not nearly so deep or wide.

So cool.

They have a townhouse.

It has stairs to the front door and windows to the basement on the ground.

I peek but there are curtains.

I'm carrying the chips and Emmett knocks on the door.

It opens up and there's Quincy.

"Hey guys, come on in."

"Hiello, Quincy. I brought you chips," I tell him, holding them out.

"Where's Rhys?"

He smiles and takes them from me.

"You must be as excited as he is. Downstairs. Follow me and I'll show you the steps."

We go through the living room and into the kitchen and he shows me the door. 

It's a townhouse like Emmett's but much bigger. 

It's twice as wide and longer. 

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Yes please."

He goes to the cabinet and then turns towards Emmett but he just shrugs his shoulders.

"Come and pick a cup, Finn. Point to the one you want."

Oh, he doesn't have any bendy straw cups but I don't want a sippy-cup or a glass.

"Wait, what about this one?"

He pulls out one that has a flip up straw.

I pick apple juice and he fills it up for me.

"Go on down and play, buddy, we're gonna start supper soon."

Emmett grabs my wrist just before I open the door and gives me a kiss on my cheek.

"Be a good boy, Finn."

He sounds really, really sexy.

"I will."

He opens the door for me and I scamper down.

It's a toy room, a play room.

There's a couch and a big bean bag chair and shelves full of toys.

He has a big rug with a city on it and a huge block tower that is almost as big as he is.

Rhys jumps up and runs over.

"Finn."

He's so cute, I've missed him.

He's wearing a dinosaur t-shirt and shorts and he has even more freckles now.

He hugs me really tight and then drags me towards the corner.

"I'm playing cars."

He has a huge track built and so many hot wheels.

He lets me pick two and shows me how to launch them.

We have races and crashes and I really need to get some tracks for my house too.

He tells me he has another box of track and gets it down, then asks me to help build some more.

I'm having a blast.

"I've missed you, Rhys. It's nice to play like this again."

He looks at me and smiles.

"I missed you too, Finn. I don't have many friends."

"I don't either."

"It's hard," he says and I realize he means being a 'Little' but I'd been thinking about my life in general.

"But at least I have Quincy. He's the best."

He's so in love.

"Quincy is awesome. I'm glad you two found each other and that I found Emmett."

"I wish we could find one more," he mumbles, then chooses a different car.

This one is a truck and there's no way it'll make it around the turns but he loads it into the launcher anyway.

"It's gonna CRASH."

He claps loudly when he says crash, then pushes the button and he's right, it goes halfway up the vertical loop and falls to the ground.

"BOOM."

'One more couple? That would be nice.'

"There must be more 'Doms' and 'Littles'. Baltimore is a big city."

"No, I'm the 'Little'. Only one more 'Dom'."

Huh?

"What?"

He waves me away.

"Can't talk about it... when I'm 'Little'."

"Are you always 'Little' at home?" I ask.

I'm curious how they work.

"Always. No. I'm 'Big' for our talks sometimes and at work but that's all. I hate being 'Big' but I guess I can try for you for a minute."

"Can I sit in your beanbag?"

I've wanted to since I first saw it.

"Yep. It's my favorite. So squishy."

I sort of leap onto it and laugh when it almost sucks me in.

It's huge, the biggest one I've ever seen.

"I don't understand, Rhys. A new Dom?"

"Yeah, so Quincy can have another big person to talk to and I can have someone else to take care of me."

'Oh... Oh. Huh?'

"We almost found someone. It was great sex but they didn't want to move up here with us."

"Wait, you have sex with other people?"

"Of course. Quincy likes watching other men fuck me. Sometimes I suck his cock while they do, that's fun."

"So Quincy and the new Dom will fuck you? That's a lot of lovies."

He laughs. 

"Yeah but they'll fuck each other, too. Maybe I'll give up some of mine so they can have playtime but the new Dom will definitely have to fuck me too. And we can have lots of threesomes. I love those."

"I saw you sucking Quincy's cock at the beach. It was really hot. And we heard you fucking once."

"You guys should play with us."

I want to actually but...

"I don't know if Emmett will want to."

"You should ask him. We can do lots of things."

I have questions, so many questions but a shadow appears on the stairs and Emmett comes down.

"Hey boys, dinner is almost ready. Wash your hands and come on up."

I'm still in shock but Rhys answers for us.

"Okay, Emmett. We're coming," Rhys says, grabbing my hand and takes me towards the back and there's a bathroom down here.

It's such a cool basement.  

[alphareleasemedia]

Daily Drabble Project Apr 21-30

4/21/23 Rufous scratched his chin and laughed. A small swarm of birds had descended upon the bag of sunflower seeds he'd spilled on the ground earlier. Rufous had been sitting out on his back patio snacking on the seeds and enjoying the warmer weather when he'd accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling out its contents onto the grass. It hadn't even been twenty minutes and already a flock of birds had invaded his yard. Rufous leaned back in his wicker chair and watched the little birds as they flitted about and pettily fought with each other over the plentiful sunflower seeds.

4/22/23 Yellow tulips lined the walkway. Red ones grew under the windows. The house was small and old. But the paint was new and the yard was well maintained. Save for the architecture of an older building the house and its surrounding property looked better than many of the newer houses in the neighborhood. It certainly stood out starkly against the two houses on either side of it. Both clearly built around the same time, but only the one so carefully maintained over the years. Snuggled in between cracked windows, faded paint, and overgrown lawns was an oasis of loving maintenance.

4/23/23 There wasn't any milk left in the fridge. A terrible predicament to face when the cereal has already been poured. Alexa stared intently at the shelves in the fridge as if more milk would magically appear if she only looked for it hard enough. Nevertheless, the refrigerator remained milkless. Alexa glanced back over her shoulder at the bowl of cereal she'd prepared for herself. A bit sugary to be eaten dry. But Alexa didn't really have the energy to make anything else to eat for breakfast. Alexa scanned the fridge once more, now looking for alternatives. She grabbed some yogurt.

4/24/23 Quackles waddled across the park determinedly. He was on a mission to Get Sandwich. There was nothing that could come between Quackles and his quarry. Except for some trees. And a really big rock. But those were Mere Obstacles to be overcome! Or more accurately: waddled around. The point is they did not stop him from continuing to tail the little girl he'd followed from the water's edge. Sandwich still grasped in her hand. When she briefly paused, Quackles seized his opportunity. He darted forward and snatched the prize, flapping his wings triumphantly as he absconded back to the pond.

4/25/23 Allie kept glancing over her shoulder back down the winding road to check for cars. The wind was intermittently roaring through the trees, mimicking the sound of an approaching vehicle, and giving Allie pause every time. But no cars passed her from either direction, she was all alone on the little backwoods road through the forested hills. Allie trekked forwards, ever vigilant of the twists and curves in the road that might hide any oncoming traffic or, more dangerously, hide her from drivers. She kept to the far right of the road and hoped that the wind would die down.

4/26/23 Clarence leaned back in the hard plastic chair and stared dully at his clothes as they spun around inside the washing machine. The place smelled of lint and laundry detergent and everything looked slightly yellow under the dull lights. It was late, the wide windows at the front of the building were a black mirror that cut off the outside world and reflected back a dark copy of the laundromat. There were only a couple other patrons besides Clarence, he was alone in his corner. The hum of the machines was like some great engine hurtling Clarence through the void.

4/27/23 I have always been enraptured by tiny birds, but my goodness are these some teeny tiny birds in my birdbath right now. They are so small and adorable I want to scoop them up in my hands and stare at them. I could fit five of them in just one hand, they are so small. But I will have to content myself with admiring their tininess from a distance. Oh, how I love to watch the little birds frolicking about in the birdbath. They are so cute. What an excellent decision it was to put a birdbath in the backyard.

4/28/23 Symon was a very serious guy. You could tell by the serious look he had on his face all the time. Always with the sort of grumpy furrowed brow and hard stare. Yes, Symon always meant business. And business means professionalism. To Symon at least. He was always behaving himself very professionally. He always made sure to look as professional as possible, with his suit and tie and business cards. Symon did not believe in things like business casual. Because Symon was a professional. And he took that very seriously. He was a serious professional who was seriously professional. Seriously.

4/29/23 Mysterious goo oozed out of the hole and slowly spread across the grass. Which was a curious thing considering that the hole appeared to be completely empty. It was more difficult to tell since the goo started oozing, the most recent of the hole's many mysteries, as no one particularly wanted to step in the strange goo. Thus making it harder to look directly into the hole, but even from a safe distance the hole still looked to be empty. Or at least the few inches near the top of the hole that weren't cast in an oddly impenetrable shadow.

4/30/23 Wally Waler having come of age decided that it was time for him to go out into the world to see what adventures he could find. So, he packed a bag, said goodbye to his parents, and set off from home. At first he wandered around his neighborhood for a while, but the suburbs are pretty boring and there were no adventures to be found. Just Mrs. Wilkinson watering her lawn even though they were in the middle of a drought and one particularly obese cat that watched Wally intently from a window. Discouraged, Wally went home and played X-box.

[hofer29]

Day 1 of Renovation

That first morning of waking up in the Wagon Wheel apartment was a memorable one. 

We all know what it’s like to wake up somewhere new and have a few moments of confusion and disorientation in your new surroundings. Couple that with some serious self doubts and anxiety and that was pretty much my experience on June 2nd. I had my air mattress and sleeping bag stretched out on the bedroom floor and the apartment was eerily quiet. It had a strange smell, of something that had sat empty for a while. I remember laying on my air mattress for a long time, wondering where do I even begin with what was before me. 

The apartment and property had no running water. The previous owners had winterized the property and then when it was turned back on for the inspection there were major leaks all over the place. Faucets were shooting out water in the rooms and the pipes in the crawl space were so pitted they had pinhole leaks all along them. So, no running water meant I had to brush my teeth with bottled water and go and use the town’s park bathrooms for everything else. 

My first order of business was to begin cleaning up the property as best I could. There was alot of junk that needed to be cleaned out, not just in the old rooms but in the apartment, the lobby, and outside around the motel. I called around town for a giant dumpster to be delivered which to my surprise came pretty quickly. It would soon be my experience that getting people to return phone calls in Pinedale was a challenge. Heck, even getting my phone to work was a challenge. It would make calls one moment and then the next it would be out of service. It was frustrating. I didn’t have internet access so I had to go sit outside the library and use their free wifi at night or hit up Pine Coffee to sit and work with Kayleigh on things. 

When the dumpster arrived I started to go ham on the clean up. I walked the property and picked up all the trash that had accumulated over the years. There was an old car parked on the “lawn” behind room 15 and a nasty dog fence that was at one point used to hold a dog? The lawn was a bunch of tall weeds and a defunct sprinkler system was uprooted everywhere. I ripped it all out and threw it away. 

The laundry room was by far the worst cluttered space on the property. The previous owners had built shelving on the walls that was filled with old towels and linens and random junk that had accumulated over the course of 40 years. I knew the laundry room had to be a major focus so I started gutting it in anticipation of making it the first space that got a make over. 

In the apartment there were closets filled with hangers, so many hangers, boxes of hangers. It was a hanger fetish to the extreme! The refrigerator had old food in it and soda that had exploded when the temperatures froze. One cabinet still had forgotten items, mainly ancient bottles of liquor, that were left behind. The lobby space had a bunch of dead potted plants. All of it went in the dumpster, to the point that this massive dumpster was getting to the point of over flowing. It felt good to purge and see a little progress, however small it was. 

[sibsteria]

Two Brunettes and A Boyle [pt2]

[Jake Perlata/fem!Reader/Jonah Simms mini series]

Things you need to know:

I have kept Amy and Adam together, for story purposes.

Slow-burn

!!This part includes mentions of blood and injury!! 

(h/n)- hospital name

Masterlist

2/?

Shrugging on my jacket, I swipe the spare key from the kitchen draw.

I make sure the door is locked before I exit, the cold air bites at the tip of my nose.

It’s dark, almost 11pm, I take a look at the location of the store that Charles sent me- it’s not too far. 

My converse tap against the hard concrete below, following the blue line on my phone directing where to go.

The store’s bright sign and blinding lights are harsh against my eyes, still fresh from sleep, I hear the expected electronic brr-brr as the automatic doors open in front of me.

I travel down the linoleum isles, scanning the shelves for the batteries, ha! got them.

I let my fingers wrap around the cardboard, before gliding to the cashier, a quick payment and my task is complete. 

The tepid air of the store almost let me forget about the freeze outside, nipping against my ears.

Almost no one’s around, a few suited business men, a couple cars. It’s kind of calming to hear the silence in this part of the city- no hustle and bustle. 

I get so caught up in my thoughts I don’t notice the built stranger I bump into until I’m on the ground.

‘‘Ooh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’’ I try to laugh it off, apologising for colliding with the poor man.

He lays out his hand for me to take, ‘’It’s quite alright, little lady, I do the same sometimes.’’ his soft voice and kind demeanour make me smile.

‘‘Ha, ha.’‘

‘‘What’s a girl like you doing out this late, anyways?’‘ He crosses his arms, standing his ground.

‘‘Oh, I just needed to get something for my nephew, a small inconvenience- you know how it is.’‘ I reply.

‘‘You in a hurry?’‘ He quirks an eyebrow.

‘‘Kind of, it’s wayyy past his bedtime, needs these batteries for his night light. I’ll be seeing you!’‘ I give a curt nod to the guy, before sliding past his tall frame. 

He grips my forearm before I can get far, ‘’Sweetie, I’m sure I have something else to peak your interest.’’ He winks at me through his wind-swept hair.

‘‘O-oh, I’m sorry, I got to get going.’‘ I bite my lip, feeling awkward.

‘‘I don’t think you do.’‘ A hard yank and I’m falling into his arms, okay, now I’m panicking.

Adrenaline races around my body, I’ve never been in a situation like this, what do I do?

I scan my surroundings and notice a shadow metres away from me, as this guy starts to pull me with him, I shout.

‘‘H-help!’‘ I’m starting to struggle against his tough grip, he wrestles me further.

I look to the figure in front of us, he’s now racing toward me. The man enforcing me turns a sharp head to look at the man- it’s a man. He panics, he digs a hand in his pocket, pulling out an object. I don’t see what it is until my peripherals catch the glimmer of silver in the lamp light. Oh, fuck, no. No, no, no, no. 

I scream, trying to pull myself away, scared and shaking. A harsh pain spreads across my side, shit! The motherfucker fucking stabbed me. I look back to the man who was running towards us, sighing in relief as I see the cop badge swinging around his neck.

The monster lets go of me, throwing me to the floor before taking off, running towards the direction I’d come from. 

The cop passes me, a comment flies from his mouth. 

‘‘Stay there, ma’am!’‘ He’s fast, billowing toward the guy who got away. I’m crying but I can’t feel it, I taste it, the salt mixing with my saliva.

He tackles the bastard, he thuds against the floor. I can hear a few quips from his radio, he’s rushing. My head feels fuzzy, heavy.

A few more officers round the corner, he throws the guy to them before high-tailing it back to me.

His footsteps beat heavy around my skull, a soft hand cups my face. 

‘‘Hey, hey, can you move?’’ His voice is soothing, calm in such a terrorising situation.

‘‘I-I think so, yeah.’‘ He helps me slide up against the brick wall beside us.

‘‘I have an ambulance on the way, I’m going to stay here until they arrive, ma’am.’‘ He’s pulling of his tie as he speaks, pressing it against my seeping wound. I feel the cold leather of his sleeve against my hands as I squeeze on to him.

‘‘What’s your name?’‘ He’s keeping me talking, keeping me conscious.

‘‘Y/n, B-boyle.’’ I wince at the searing pain of the stab wound.

His eyes widen, a look I would consider realisation, yet he hadn’t met me before. Had he?

‘‘You-you wouldn’t happen to have a brother named Charles, would you?’‘ He tugs on his lip, he seems nervous now.

‘‘Yeah, a-actually he’s expecting me. Shit, I need to call him!’‘ I cry out as his hands press harder, I can’t take it personally as he is trying to save my life.

‘‘I can do that, miss, we work at the same precinct. I have his number-hey! Are-are those…Die Hard pyjamas?” He has an excited grin on his face.

“Yeah, it’s only one of the b-best movies ever-‘’

“The best!”

I scan his person, searching for a name, I see a J. Peralta.

‘‘Oh, you’re Jake!’’ I try to sniffle through my tears.

‘‘He told you about me?’’ A smug smirk paints his face.

‘‘Of course, you know h-how he is with his friends. Proud man.’’ I can feel my eyelids getting heavier.

‘‘C’mon, Y/n, can’t go dying on him now.’’ He brushes the hairs confining my face, a sweet gesture if his hand wasn’t a little covered in my blood.

‘‘I’m a strong g-gal, I promise.’’ I whisper out.

‘‘I bet.’‘ He smiles at me. ‘’Hey!-’’ his loud voice startles me awake, I suppose he had to to keep my eyes open, ‘’I’m sure it would have been amazing to meet you under different circumstance,’’ his lopsided grin makes me crack one myself through the pain, ‘’I guess tomorrow couldn’t wait.’’

‘‘Guess it couldn’t.’‘ I breath in sharply, losing my breath.

The ringing of ambulance bells comes to the rescue, I thank Jake for his efforts.

‘‘You’re a hero. A true one.’’ His mouth twitches at my words.

‘‘I’ll see you again, Y/n. You’ll be okay.’‘ He hands me over to the on-scene paramedics. A few minutes with them and they managed to stay the bleeding.

I’ll be okay.

Jake’s POV

She seems like such a sweet girl, some people are monsters. This city is cursed. Taking out my cell, I feel a wave of nausea. How am I going to tell my best friend his sister just got stabbed?!

 He picks up after half a ring.

‘‘Hey, Jakey! What’s up?’‘ He’s beaming on the other side, making this even harder.

‘‘I need you to meet me at (h/n), now.’‘ My tone is light.

‘‘Why? What’s wrong?’‘ He sounds rushed, panicked.

‘‘Your sister, she-she’s been stabbed. I caught the guy but she was bleeding out-’‘ I rush out, afraid.

‘‘I’m on my way, oh, it’s my fault! Oh, no, I sent her out in New York, late at night with no way to protect herself. Oh, I’m an idiot!’’ He growls through the phone, I hear his car keys jingle and a door slam. ‘‘Oh, god, I hope she’s okay, how could I let this happen!’‘ I’m certain he’s crying, I myself swoop the keys off an officer’s departmentally issued car. After all, this is a family matter.

‘‘It’s not your fault, Charles, wrong place and wrong time. She just happened to get caught in it.’‘ I’m trying to calm his nerves, along with mine.

The drive the the hospital was unnerving, my heart is rattling in my chest as I see Boyle run through the doors, I chase after him.

We reach the front desk.

‘‘Y/n Boyle, I need to see Y/n Boyle!’‘ His voice is hoarse and manic.

The desk lady takes a phone call, which seems like forever, yet it was under a minute.

‘‘She’s undergoing surgery right now, her injury is mild, so it shouldn’t take too long. If you could take a seat over there, feel free to take a magazine.’’

‘‘I don’t care about a magazine, is she okay?’‘ Charles’ voice is gruff and tetchy.

‘‘Doctor’s say she’s stable, are you family by any chance?’‘ Her uncaring tone is a little unnerving to him.

‘‘Yes, her brother-’‘ Before he could finish the lady cut him off.

‘‘If you could fill this out, that would be great.’‘ She carelessly tosses a clipboard with a sheet attached to it.

I pick it up for him but as we turn to walk away, she speaks again.

‘‘Leave the clipboard.’‘ 

I roll my eyes and do what she asks, a fake but believable smile crosses my face.

‘‘I hate hospitals.’‘ Charles slumps down onto one of the old chairs that litter the waiting room.

[jkbabiey]

🇵 🇷 🇴 🇲 🇮 🇸 🇪 [ 🇯 🇯 🇰 ]

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

Words: 2.4 K

Pairing: hitman!Jungkook x medstudent!reader

Warnings: flirting, jungkook's a flirty liar :) fluff and smut :)

Song Rec: Waste - Dove Cameron; Built that way - Emotional Oranges; Playboy - EXO; Dope Lovers - DPR IAN

Her.

Jeon Jungkook was a regular client at your gas station, mainly going there at night when you were working.

You knew what his favorite chips were by heart and also the brand of his preferred cigarettes. He wasn't very talkative, but he used to send you a polite smile and a whispered small greeting every time he came into the store. You two had never had a real talk with more than two words, but you definitely exchanged a few looks.

Jeon Jungkook was a handsome man that visited your store almost every night, and you wouldn't be naive enough to not notice his delicate and yet intense features.

Yes, you had probably developed a crush on Jeon Jungkook over the whole year you had worked on the gas station and you would pretty much stare at him every time he came in, not bothering to look away when he caught you boldly staring.

Today was the first day you were getting back to work after the eventful night you'd lived a few weeks ago. You'd had a very rough time walking in these streets for the past few weeks, having asked your boss for a two-week vacation, so you wouldn't have to cross the streets that were still terrifying you to no end - which Jin had found extremely weird; why would you give up your Christmas vacation time, on November? well, little did he know you'd had a very interesting encounter with a potential serial killer in the neighborship of the store.

You didn't say anything about what had happened, not to your best friend, not to your parents, sister, or boss. Watching out for your life after being threatened about telling anyone about what had happened, you had been almost paranoid at home and had never hated living alone as much as you did the past couple of weeks.

You were back in the store though because you couldn’t afford to stay home any longer, and although you were still quite stressed, the night was going by fast and uneventful, you were bored and for the first time in a few days, you let your guard down, closing your eyes and resting your head on top of your arms, leaning on the service counter. Until the clinking sound of the bell on the entrance door sounded and you quickly opened your eyes and tamed your hair down as well as you could.

Jeon Jungkook was a handsome man. He entered the store, and smiled your way, you smiled back, quickly taking a glance at the empty black car that awaited him on the outside of the store.

He was so perfect. Great legs, great ass, great hair, great jawline, great face, gr-

"I'm sorry, do you not have flamin' hot Doritos?" his voice resonated from behind some shelves, just before his pretty face appeared behind them.

"Oh, we don't?" you sounded just as surprised as him, as if you didn't even work in the store, walking out of the behind of the service counter and towards the zone of the chips and other snacks of the same nature. You searched behind the many bags of different flavored Doritos, not finding his favorite ones. "Sorry, I guess we ran out of them."

"Oh..." he sounded so deeply disappointed, you even felt sorry for him.

"Well, we have these ones, you can take these and try to squelch your needs..." you chuckled, holding up a bag of nacho cheese Doritos, and he looked you in the eye for the first time ever - you felt electric. He was confused but after a while of just staring at your youthful innocent face, he chuckled.

"No, it's fine. I'll just take my cigarettes." He answered grabbing the bag from your hand and placing it in its previous place.

You chuckled - trying to hide the very nervous butterflies on your stomach from the proximity with your long-term crush - and walked towards the service counter once again, grabbing the cigarettes he always used to get.

"How'd you know I wanted these ones?"

Your cheeks burned and your eyes widened "I mean... You come here almost every night..."

"You, out of all people, know that as a fact."

He was ruthless tonight. You chuckled nervously and handed him the tobacco pack after he paid.

"See you!" you quickly said to what he smiled teasingly.

"Yeah..."

He was already on his way to his car, his wide strong shoulders turned to you and your eyes fixed on his back. When the guy turned back, a playful glint in his eyes and a teasing smirk on his lips. He opened the store's door once again, peeking only his head inside.

"Can I get your number?" he asked and you couldn't help the huge smile that spread over your face.

"Yeah..." you grabbed a sticky note from the pile on top of the counter, writing your phone number on it and handing it to him.

"See ya."

"Yeah..."

Him.

You were a cutie. You worked at the gas station he always went to at night after his duties. He would always catch you staring but he tried not to make a big deal out of it.

He couldn't help it tonight though. You had spent two weeks away and he noticed your absence. But god, did you look good tonight? You looked great. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty lips, pretty neck, pretty ass, pretty legs, pretty nails, and pretty voice. So pretty. And he just couldn't hold it back.

When he stopped seeing you on the usual service counter you always sat behind he presumed you had quit or maybe asked to work in the day, he didn't expect to see you again. But there you were once again, and you looked adorable.

It was a pity you'd had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

[Unknown number - 3:46 AM] Hey

[Unknown number - 3:47 AM] You working tonight?

[Unknown number - 3:47 AM] It's Jungkook btw

You squealed looking at these messages about an hour after they were sent. Your cheeks flushed and a shy grin on your face.

[You - 4:34 AM] Hi!

[You - 4:34 AM] sry, just saw these :(

[You - 4:35 AM] yup, working

[Jungkook <3 - 4:40 AM] it's fine, don't worry

[Jungkook <3 - 4:40 AM] what time do you get out?

[You - 4:42 AM] around 8 AM

[Jungkook <3 - 4:42 AM] wanna go get breakfast with me then?

[Jungkook <3 - 4:43 AM] I'll pick u up

[You - 4:43 AM] sounds great

[Jungkook <3 - 4:43 AM] see ya bb

You squealed once again and slammed your phone against the wooded counter - probably a little too harshly.

"You look tired"

Jungkook was seated in front of you, munching on a grilled cheese toast. "Yeah, work does that to you."

You chuckled along with him, that looked you straight in the eye.

"So," you initiated "Tell me about yourself."

"Jeon Jungkook, 22 years old, living just across the street," he pointed over to a grey building across the street in which the coffee shop you were having breakfast was located. "What more do you want to know?"

"What do you do? Do you study? Work?"

Jungkook chuckled lightly, squinting his eyes and taking a sip from his orange juice. "I don't study anymore, do you?"

"I do actually, studying medicine."

"Ooh, I got myself a smart ass?" he snickered and you raised an eyebrow.

"Did you?"

"You tell me."

You looked to the side, avoiding his intense stare. "You didn't tell me what you do though." You commented trying to take the focus off you.

"We've been talking about me for ages, tell me about you."

"What?" you chuckled. "All I know is your name, your age, and address!"

"I don't even know your age princess, c'mon start talking," he chuckled with raised eyebrows, making you laugh as well.

"I'm twenty..." you started "Y/N Y/L/N, studying medicine... Moved here about two years ago when I came to study medicine."

"Oh, you're not from here?"

"Nope, miss my family like hell... But I'm really happy here with my studies."

"Such a nerd," he whispered, chuckling and you stretched your arm to punch his shoulder. "So you living alone?"

"Yeah, a few blocks away from where I work."

Suddenly the sound of a text sounded, it seemed to come from another phone, apart from the one that belonged to Jungkook and was placed on top of the table you were both seating at - it definitely wasn't from your phone.

Why did Jungkook have two phones?

"That's my work phone," he answered the unspoken question evident on your face.

"Oh... you can take it if it's important!"

"No, I'll check later."

Weird.

"So... what do you do?" you asked, trying to change the focus from the suspicious phone situation. It didn't seem to work, as the phone beeped again from his jacket's front pocket. Jungkook chuckled awkwardly and apologized.

"Maybe I should take you home? Seems like I'm needed at work..."

Jungkook paid for your breakfast and his. He took you home in his big black expensive car. He didn't check his phone the entire ride, he never even read what the texts were saying.

Very weird.

"Jungkook, we're in public-" you moaned against his lips, just before they crashed right against yours. You two were in a library, behind some shelves in the crime section, your favorite.

"I know," he answered after you pulled away, trying - partly - to get away from his tight grip. He moved his right leg between yours, so his tight would be pressed against your core, causing a helplessly deep sigh to escape your lips and your head to rest against his shoulder. His lips moved to trail kisses on the side of your neck.

"Someone can come here any minute," you whispered.

"And you love that," he chuckled against the skin he was previously covering in kisses. "Want me to stop?" he asked, teasingly, because he knew you didn't - you loved the thrill of it all. You loved danger.

"No."

And he didn't. He didn't stop.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the velvety floor next to you. Your bra and panties were next - Jungkook didn't like to waste any time when it came to sex.

"You're beautiful..." he whispered against the skin of the valley in the middle of your chest area. He kneeled in front of you, and grabbed one of your tights, placing it on his shoulder as your eyes locked in.

"You have 10 minutes," you stated, trying to keep a stoic face as the man of your wildest fantasies kneeled down in front of you, about to eat you out.

"Won't need that much," he answered cheekily, just before splitting your folds apart and licking you from your cunt to your clit, harshly. It was sudden and the elicit high-pitched cry that erupted from your throat was quickly reprehended by him. "Do you want someone to hear you?"

You knew he didn't need 10 minutes to make you cum.

"No, no... Sorry, keep going, please..." you quickly begged, whispering now, to what Jungkook snickered, getting back to his ministrations.

You did not keep quiet throughout the whole session of Jungkook eating you out, and you really couldn't not scream when he moved his lips to brutally suck at your clit as two of his fingers started to pound inside you, mercilessly. Jungkook didn't scold you this time, instead, you felt his wide smile against your clit, as your fingers intertwined in his dark luscious locks.

It was when he added a third finger to the mix that your legs started shaking and your back arched against his face. Jungkook reached up towards your face to try and cover your mouth, preventing the loud moans of his name that rolled of your tongue.

He didn't stop licking you, even after your orgasm was done and you asked him to stop with tears in your eyes. When he did stop, he placed a loving kiss on the inside of your thigh and handed you the flowery dress and white cotton panties.

You were both already dressed and about to shamefully leave the crime section, when Jungkook pulled you back to him by your wrist, and kissed you deeply, both his hands on the sides of your face.

When he pulled away, your eyes stayed closed and you heard another of his teasing chuckles you loved so much.

"You're awful," you whispered as you walked to the exit door of the library, hand in hand.

"What's wrong in making my girlfriend feel good?"

"Oh!" you paused in your tracks, listening to what he had just said - my girlfriend - "Are we dating?"

"Oh, we're not? I thought we had been dating for like a month!" he chuckled, looking you up and down. Your cheeks flushed at that and he enveloped your waist with his right arm, continuing to walk.

"You didn't even ask me! How unromantic!" you complained as he grinned, looking at you sideways, with those loving eyes that told you he treasured you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, before kissing your cheek fondly

"Well yeah, I guess," you joked and he laughed, opening the car door for you. When he sat down on his seat and put his seatbelt on, he looked at you as if he had something to tell. You looked back curious, waiting for him to talk.

"I saw cameras in there but I thought you wouldn't mind," he said. Your eyes widened, your cheeks flushed, you screamed hitting him on the shoulder and he laughed.

"How could you not tell me??" you screamed.

"I mean, let's not ignore your kink!"

Oh god.

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter]

Part 14 - Finale

Tony Stark stood at the opposite end of the square. He was staring right at the restaurant on the corner. The restaurant with the lovely view. The restaurant with the nice outdoor seating area. The restaurant he was to be at tonight.

Tony clenched his fist beside him. He just needed to get the rights to the building. He needed Helmut Zemo to accept the cheque and sign it over.

Sure, the restaurant looked fresh and new, but no amount of make overs would save it from the wrath of Tony Stark. He was a man with a plan, and tonight he would come out on top.

His eyes narrows on the movement in the window. Someone he didn't recognise was checking over the tables. With a sigh, he turns on his heel and disappears.

Veronica had a clipboard in hand with a checklist. She was checking off everything and making sure the whole restaurant was ready for tonight. You were by the bar with your own clipboard, going through a list with Sam.

"That's everything. Think you can handle it?" You ask him, looking over the shelves behind him.

"With Bucky and Natasha here, I think we got it. Just waiting for those coffee beans."

"Natasha has gone to get them. I got a few bags, though I think people will be more interested in your end of the bar," you chuckle.

Sam winks at you.

"I've got many tricks up my sleeve."

"Blow them all away!"

You check off the drinks list and turn around to face Veronica.

"All menus out?"

"All accounted for," she replies. She smiles and checks off her own list.

"Good. Left or right?" You asks.

"Right."

"Right is your side for the evening. I'll have left and outside."

"I can help with outside," she says.

"Outside is neutral territory then," you chuckle. She nods and you both mark it down. "I'll go check the kitchen, the waiting staff should be soon, make sure Wanda knows."

Veronica nods and you head into the kitchen.

Helmut has his back to you as he gives out orders. Chefs are spread throughout the kitchen, each with their assignments. You smile at the way he is handling it all.

You let him finish giving out orders before coughing softly and calling his name.

Helmut turns instantly and smiles at you.

"How's it going, chef?"

You haven't called him that since the day you made that paella with him. His lips curl into a mischievous grin as he steps closer to you.

"All is well in my domain. How about out front?"

"We are ready for the main event."

He kisses you.

"Your father would be so proud of you," you tell him.

Hearing you say that makes his heart flutter. That's all he ever wanted to do.

"Something smells delicious," you say, laughing softly.

Helmut glances over his shoulder.

"That could be a number of things."

You both laugh together before you kiss his cheek and let him crack on with it. You made a promise to see him later when you both head home to change.

When you go back out, Wanda is with her staff for the night. Wanda was beyond excited to play head waitress tonight, she wanted to be as useful as she could to you. You assured her she had ways been helpful. After all, she did play match maker.

Wanda turns when you approach, dismissing the staff who go ahead and make themselves busy with Veronica.

"Are you excited?" Wanda asks.

"I'm nervous. Tonight has so much to prove."

"We can do it."

"I know," you sigh softly. Wanda pulls you in for a hug.

"We're a team, we're going to do this."

You nod. You both take a deep breath together and smile.

"Let's finish the final touches and get our asses back so we can all change for the evening."

You nod and go through the last checklist.

Back at the apartment, you change your clothes. As a host you wouldn't be wearing your apron, so you wore something smart and presentable. Helmut was all ready to go, his apron back at the restaurant. He was just waiting for you to finish up.

When you were done, you stood in front of him in the living room.

"Ready?" He asks.

"Ready."

You take Helmut's hand and kiss him as he leans in. You both smile and leave the apartment.

It was becoming very real now.

You arrive at Escorpión Morado. Helmut has all staff gather in the kitchen. You stand beside your boyfriend as he faces his staff.

"We only have one shot to show Tony Stark that this is my restaurant. One shot to prove that we're not irrelevant. Escorpión Morado has stood here this long and it will stand for many years to come. He can offer me all the money he wants, but I will never sell my father's pride and joy to him. I need everyone focused, ready, and open for any changes. Nothing can go wrong here."

Everyone replies with 'yes chef!'

He turns to you and nods. You nod back and gesture for Veronica to follow. Wanda and the wait staff follow behind, Sam, Bucky and Natasha behind them.

You and Veronica stand in front of the doors. You can see all the people you invited waiting to come inside. The butterflies in your stomach are having a ball.

Sam, Bucky, and Natasha take their places behind the bar.

Wanda and the waiters stand to one side of the room.

You take a deep breath and put on a smile as both you and Veronica open the doors.

"Welcome everyone."

One by one you guide them inside. Veronica and yourself guide people to tables, having accounted for everyone you invited. That included extra guests of which you anticipated Tony to have considering you went to his party with more than he bargained for.

You smile, greet, talk them through the menu.

However, all but one table was full. You cast glances at Wanda, Natasha, and the boys. Each of them shrug.

Tony hadn't arrived yet.

Helmut stands by the kitchen door. You lock eyes with him and shook your head subtly. He glances toward the door and grits his teeth slightly.

Stark was doing this on purpose.

You turn to fine other guests. They're all local people. Some have been here since the restaurant was first built. Some who came here as children. Some who had been every day. They knew this place. They knew Helmut. They knew why this was happening tonight.

You smile at those who recognise you for your hard work these last few weeks.

"It's wonderful to see everyone. Thank you all so much for coming, though it appears our V.I.P of the night is running late. I hope you'll be happy to wait just a moment longer. Though, should he not arrive soon, we will just have to start without him."

There were no signs of negativity. They agreed to wait.

You looked at Sam.

"Perhaps drinks are in order?" You smile at him.

"Coming up."

Wanda nodded at the waiters. Each of them pulled out a notepad and began taking orders for drinks. You turned back to the door and waited.

"Where do you think he is?" Veronica asks, coming over to stand beside you.

"No idea, but he must be up to something."

Just as you said that three figures appeared up ahead. They walking across the square together. You narrow your eyes trying to work put exactly who they were. You knew for a fact none of them were Tony.

As they got a little closer, you could see them.

Pepper, Strange, and Heike.

You wanted to scream, but you were going to be a professional. He sent is entourage ahead.

As they come to the door, you greet them the same way you had everyone else. Heike was looking at you with such a piercing gaze, but you didn't let that bother you.

"Come in, Veronica, will you show them to their table?"

"With pleasure," she says, though not for a single moment did she mean it.

You watched as they followed Veronica to their table, but then turned back to the open door.

Helmut came up beside you, his hand on your back.

"Nothing?"

"Not yet. His party are here though," you say nodding at the table. He glances over and sighs when he sees Heike looking at him. She looks eager to gain his attention.

"Want me to wait with you?" He asks.

You shake your head.

"No, go back to the kitchen. We'll start taking orders now. You need to be ready for when they come in."

He kisses your temple and makes his way back to the kitchen. Heike rises from her chair and stops him at the kitchen door.

"Can we talk?"

He glares at her.

"No."

He pushes on and goes into the kitchen, not wanting to hear any more.

You turn Wanda and nod at her. She claps once and the waiters are on the floor taking orders. You pull put your own notepad and help them out.

You smile as you take the order for the nearest table. A lovely old couple who remember the days Heinrich ran this place. You chat with them before heading to the kitchen.

Orders are already pinned up and ready. Helmut is there to take your order. You smile at each other as you hand it over. He pins it up and shouts it out.

You wink at him and head back out front.

Headlights. You can see headlights at the other end of the square. Everyone in the restaurant can see them, all turning to look.

You stand by the door.

A red sportscar.

Tony Stark.

It cruises across the square. How he managed to get it there, you will never know. This square wasn't for cars.

It cruises along, only coming to a stop by the door. The headlights turn off and the drivers door opens. The man of the hour climbs out and turns to you. He closes the door and comes to stand in front of you.

"I hope you're hungry Mr. Stark."

"Starving."

You gesture into the restaurant. He walks in. Veronica shows him to the table and holds his chair out for him. The room was silent as they watched him take his seat. Veronica steps back and looks at you.

"As you were," he calls out.

You nod at Veronica who gets him a menu and takes his starter order.

You walk up to the bar and look at Sam. He already knows what you want. You had discussed it with him before hand. He pushes the drink across the bar to you.

You take it and present it to Tony yourself.

"Morado de Verano."

He takes it. He looks at it. He smells it.

You stand there and watch.

He sips it.

You are the way he seems to freeze for a moment. He tastes it. He's annoyed by how good it is. You can see he likes it, but he won't admit it.

You smile.

Sam sees you smiling. He gives Bucky a little high five behind the bar.

Just as you walk away, the waiters comes out with the starters. They flood the restaurant and present their dishes. You head into the lit hen to help.

Helmut looks up immediately as you enter.

"Well?"

"He's here. I gave him a drink. Veronica took his order."

"I have it," he taps the order.

You nod and take one of the orders waiting. Helmut tells you which table it is for and you nod.

"I love you!" He yells, before you leave his sight again.

You laugh and yell back, "I love you too!"

Things are going smoothly. People are enjoying their starters and there's conversation in the air. Every so often you glance up at Stark's table. There is not a single smile there.

You nod at Sam and makes another round of drinks for the table.

Orders for the main courses come in. You take Stark's order yourself. You ignore the way he stares at you. You especially ignore the way Heike is staring at you. You note down their orders and put on a smile, leaving as quickly as you could.

Natasha leans in before you reach the kitchen.

"I could take her out, you know."

You laugh.

"Not tonight Nat."

You go into the kitchen and give Helmut the order. He takes it from you, fingers purposely brushing against yours and making you blush. He smirks when he sees your reaction and then shouts out the order.

He looks at you.

"All good?"

"Yeah, in here?"

"Yeah. Though I am missing you terribly tonight."

"Aw, you'll see me later. You should bring out the main course yourself for Stark."

"Right. I'll be out."

You nod and leave, another exchange of 'I love you' being exclaimed to each other with laughter.

You go around and make sure everyone is doing OK, but as you do, Heike gets up and approaches you.

"What can I do for you?" You say, remaining polite.

"I want you to get Helmut for me."

"No, he's busy I'm afraid. He's cooking your meal."

"Then I want to go see him."

"No customers in the kitchen. You'll be in the way, plus, he's busy. I just said as such myself."

You hated how polite your voice sounded and how much it hurt to smile at her. God, you wanted to rip her hair out and kick her to the street.

"It's important."

"I'm sorry, but you need to sit back down now. The main courses will be out shortly."

Heike throws a mini tantrum as she stomps her foot before returning to the table.

You resist running a hand down your face as you retreat to the bar. Natasha is topping up some drinks as you approach.

"My offer still stands."

"At this rate I may accept it. She's just trying to annoy me, and it's working."

"Deep breaths."

You roll your eyes and take the tray. Natasha gives you the table number and you go on your way.

When the main courses come out, Helmut exits the kitchen with Tony's meal, and only Tony's. Behind him are a couple of waiters with the rest. They put down their first, Heike looking unimpressed they someone sent served her, and then Helmut presented Tony with his meal.

Before he could get away, Tony grabbed Zemo's wrist.

"This won't change anything," he said.

Zemo smiled.

"It changes everything. Look around you. These people live here. They came because I invited them in honour of my father. They came because this place matters. You're running a business, I'm running a family legacy. You can't win."

Tony let's go of him.

"We'll see about that."

On the table sits the cheque. The same amount of zeros on it as the day he presented it.

Zemo picks it up.

Tony begins to smile.

You stand beside Helmut.

"Try it," you urge, nodding at the dish.

Tony inhales. He looks at the food. Glancing between you and the dish he slowly takes a bite.

Once again he left blown away by what his tastebuds are experiencing.

You hold the cheque in both hands, out in front of you. The whole table looks up at you. Swiftly, you tear in two and let both halves fall to the table.

"You can't cook like Helmut can. You can't run a restaurant like Helmut can. You can't respect people like Helmut can," you say slowly.

Heike stands quickly, not even trying her meal.

"He doesn't love you, you know."

You roll your eyes again.

"No, he adores me. I adore him. Let it go, Heike. You just can't accept that he moved and run you after what you did to him. You need to leave. You're not welcome at our restaurant again," you tell her.

"Your restaurant?"

"Yes, our restaurant," Helmut says, smiling. He puts an arm around you and pulls you into his side.

You nod behind Heike once. Wanda and Natasha grab an arm each and escort Heike off the premises. The restaurant is filled with cheering as she is kicked out.

Tony sits there and looks at the pair of you.

"You'll fail. Within the year you'll fail," he tells you.

"No, I don't think we will."

Veronica comes up behind Tony and grabs the back of his jacket. She tugs it, urging him to stand. He sighs and does as she wants. Veronica escort him to the door where she let's go and gives him a hard kick. Tony stumbles forward onto the hood of his car which remained parked right outside the doors. Pepper and Strange are quickly to follow on their own.

You stand there hand in hand with Helmut as you watch them scamper away.

Once they are gone, the whole restaurant stands up and cheers.

You laugh loudly.

Helmut laughs with you and kisses your temple.

Tony Stark couldn't have that it takes true talent to run a restaurant. His food would never compare to Helmut's. His service would move compare to yours.

You look around.

"Eat up, it will go cold!"

The customers all dig in. Helmut gestures for the table Tony had been at to be cleared. He guides you into the kitchen as they do that.

"You handled that very well," he tells you.

You smile.

"I think we both did."

He places his hands on either side of your face and looks at you.

If someone had told him a few years ago he would be standing here falling in love all over again, though this time with someone who actually did mean the world to him, he would call them a liar.

Yet, here you were.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Helmut leans in and kisses you quite passionately in the middle of the kitchen. Neither one of you care for the staff that come and go as they prepares for deserts.

You pull apart and look at him, placing your hands on his.

"Let's finish up tonight."

"Yes, let's."

You kiss once more and he lets you go back out front.

It's late when you're looking the doors. The restaurant looks a bit askew from all the people moving about, but other than that there was nothing to worry about.

The waiters gathered the plates and glasses. Sam and Bucky tidied up the bar, putting everything back where it belonged. Natasha and Wanda worked together to while down tables and sweep the floors. Helmut was in the back helping the kitchen staff clean.

You were at the till counting up the profits for the evening. Deserts had been free simply because everyone had celebrated Tony Stark being kicked out of the restaurant.

You totalled it all up and bagged up the money, putting it away for safe keeping. When you came back, Helmut was waiting for you by the bar.

"Do you have a minute?" He asks, smiling softly at you.

"Of course," you say, going over to sit with him.

On the bar in front of him was a file. He opens it up for you and places a pen down on top of it.

"What's this?"

"My paperwork for the restaurant. I've had it reprinted."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to sign it."

You stare into those stunning brown eyes of his as he stares back. There's a soft smile on his face.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckles softly and his hand glides along the bottom of the page he had presented to you. You lean in a little to read it.

You gasp softly.

Owner & Manager - Helmut Zemo

Co-owener & Manager - ................

The space was blank. He wanted you to sign it. You look back up at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"This is quite a commitment."

"I know."

"I'd have shares in your restaurant."

"Our restaurant."

He didn't stop smiling.

You turn back to the page and slowly find yourself lifting the pen. You click it and look down at the space where your name should be.

You smile.

You can feel tears threatening to fall.

Helmut puts an arm around you and pulls you into his side. He kissed your cheek, lips lingering there.

"I want this," he whispers.

"Me too."

Then suddenly your hand is scribbling. Your name sits on the line. You drop the pen and smile.

Helmut litters kisses all over your face.

You both laugh.

"This is actually happening."

"Yes, it is."

You look at him and smile. He smiles back at you. You kiss him. This kiss felt so different from all the ones before. This one was sealing a deal. Sealing a future together.

He is yours and you are his, and together you had this restaurant to run. A restaurant which had a bright future ahead of it all because you entered his life.

“Lets go home,” he whispers.

You chuckle softly.

“Yes, chef.”

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @swooning-for-mc-avoy @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @greeneyedblondie44 @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[fromthedust]

BIG DADDY ROTH’S 1966½ A.D. CATALOG - advertisement

“During 1963 Revell paid Ed “Big Daddy” Roth a one cent royalty for each model sold. Ed brought in $32,000 that year in royalties.”    —   from Big Daddy Roth bio - https://www.ratfink.com/

                                        Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink

As a kid I built a lot of Revell model airplanes and ships, but never built a Roth car model. I liked looking at the exaggerated features of his monsters pictured on the front of the boxes. A couple of my friends had shelves that were full of models they’d built and painted. I did have a little plastic tan-colored Rat Fink, but I don’t remember where I got it.

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Book I - Part 7

The Lunch - Small Thank You’s

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: You and Chris get to know each other better over a flirty friendly lunch.

Warnings: Fluff, spinkle of Angst, Profanity, phonetic spelling of words said in a Boston accent because I needed a laugh

Notes: Hey loves! Hope you all are well! It’s been a while— praying I didn’t forget how to write too bad and y’all enjoy this installment lol. Little FYI: I’m basing the reader’s music off of that of Banks and SZA. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

The GPS said the drive from the museum to the restaurant would be… well, you were distracted from that bit of information. Not that it would matter. Chris keeps making turns against the suggested route, citing that this was “his city” and that he’s a “real Boston boy”.

What you do know is that the talking and laughing with Chris made the car ride seem all too short. Pointing out familiar streets and landmarks, he lit up telling you his childhood stories laced within the city. Pardon, his city. The glint in his eyes and excitement in his voice sent tiny sparks up your spine, but you did your best to ignore it.

Chris tried to guess where you had the two of you going for lunch. You, however, wouldn’t give in to his guesses. Eventually, you arrive at a market of sorts, a culture clash of small businesses and patrons. It’s in an area Chris is familiar with, but he never thought much of coming to.

“I thought we were going to a restaurant?” Chris inquires, not seeing a food establishment from his spot in the driver’s seat.

You puff out your jaw, squint your eyes, and proceed with your best ‘Godfather’-like impersonation as you tell Chris,“I thought you would’ve learned to stop asking me questions by now, hm.”

“That... was horrible.” Chris’ deadpan causes you to giggle in response.

“I know! Now c’mon; I’m starved!” You draw out as you reach to let yourself out of the car.

“Woah, woah, hold on,” Chris stops you with a gentle hand on your arm. You questioningly look over your shoulder at him. He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. Settling back into your seat with a huff of delighted shock, you realize what he’s doing.

Chris jogs to your door, the returning drizzle giving him a sense of urgency. He opens the door for you then offers his upturned, open hand for you to choose to take. You hesitate for a millisecond before obliging, delicately placing your smaller hand in his large palm.

You’re unsure of the last time anyone was this... chivalrous to you. Trying not to dwell on it too long, you give him a soft-spoken ‘thank you’. Chris responds with an equally soft ‘of course’. You both find it difficult to meet each other's eyes, missing the shy smile the other is sporting.

“Lead the way,” Chris gently prompts with a hand extended in the market's direction.

Mildly busy, the market is livened by business people, college students, housewives and househusbands alike. Store fronts of small businesses ranging from sustainable fashion to high-end housewares line the long cobble stone path, accented by fairy lights for added whimsy. Chris curiously takes in the sights from beneath a low baseball cap and hoodie. He’s sure to not let his eyes linger too long for fear of locking with anyone.

Meanwhile, you’re walking with purpose, leaving a distracted Chris behind. He catches up when he notices you turn a corner in his periphery. When he follows the path you took, he finds you by a green, white, and red beaded archway.

You pause and look up at Chris, a playful grin on your lips that makes his heart skip a beat. He’s looking down at you, brows raised with utter anticipation. You think this might be your favorite expression on him. You pull back and step through the beaded entrance, Chris following suit closely behind you.

“Woah…” It was almost as if that small act of stepping over the threshold transported you both to Sicily. The faint notes of Italian standards play in the background as Chris gawks at the charming restaurant.

The mostly occupied dining area is quaint, housing about 10 tables max, including a couple of booths. The walls are decorated with floor-to-ceiling built-in shelves of libations from Italy. The alcohol display is interrupted by creeping vert vines that add that little bit of spice to the space.

As a waiter walked by, Chris breathed in deeply, the warm aroma of marinara sauce, freshly baked bread and Italian spices filled his nose and lungs.

“How’d you manage to find the one Italian restaurant in the greater Boston area I’ve never been to, much less heard of?”

“Hmmm… must not be as much of a Boston boy as you think,” you say with a wink, and Chris scoffs through his lopsided smirk.

“There she is!” a bellowing voice familiar to you draws yours and Chris’ attention away from each other. Chris looks on as the short, husky man pulls you in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss. “It’s been too long! Mi sei mancata la faccia!”

“Charlie, you know I have no idea what you’re saying, but I like the way you say it!” You share a laugh with your Uber driver-turned-friend. “And what do you mean ‘it’s been too long’! I was just here last week.”

“5 days ago to be exact. 5 days since you, ya castmates… most importantly ya directah,” Charlie stresses lustfully in his strong Boston accent, “have swarmed Ma’s restaurant. Whassup with that, huh?”

“The real question here is what’s up with your crush on Sonya, huh?” you tease him. Charlie’s smitteness with your director has not gone unnoticed.You can practically see the hearts forming in his eyes at this moment.

“I doan know what ya tawkin about.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Enough abowut it! Let’s get ya seated and you can tell me who’s ya new friend,” Charlie says, motioning to Chris.

When you’re seated in a corner booth by a rainy window, you introduce the two men.“ This is Chris, my, uh…um…” You hadn’t really thought about what to call your relationship with Chris. It’s been… rocky up until this point, and while you’ve been friendly, you’re certainly not friends. Not yet, at least.

Chris notices and understands your hesitance, a small part of him hoping it’s because you don’t want to friend-zone him. “It’s alright, don’t worry your pretty, little head about it,” he teases you, earning him an eye roll. “We’re… acquaintances, right?”

“Right! Acquaintances… I guess?” It didn’t feel right, a little too impersonal, but you’ll roll with it for now.

“‘Acquaintances’?” Charlie sizes Chris up, a comical sight considering the dramatically different statues of the two men. He tilts his head and squints at Chris’ face, his expression melting from intimidation to inquisition. Chris tenses, knowing the look he’s being given all to well. “Been here before, Chris? You look mighty familiah…”

“Umm… no... I don’t… don’t believe so,” Chris answers almost timidly. The avoidant gaze into the plastic covered menu, the heated cheeks that shone the same color as a tomato— you know that look all too well. You decide to do what you hoped someone would do for you.

“He’s just got one of those faces! But um, I’m ready to order if you are?” you try to deflect. Charlie doesn’t think much of it and takes down your meal decisions, but that small act means the world to Chris. He mouths ‘thank you’ from across the booth, and you smile and tip your head in a slight nod, sure he would’ve done the same for you.

You order your usual, spaghetti with vegan meatballs, and a glass of the house white wine. Chris has what you’re having except he’s ordered a “tonic”, which you learned the hard way the other night is Bostonian for soda. Charlie is back promptly with your drinks and breadsticks and ensures that your food will arrive shortly with a small smirk on his face that you don’t think too much of.

It’s quiet at your table for quite some time. Both you and Chris take small sips from your glasses, nibble at the garlic-y bread, look out the window and around the restaurant. As you do so, you run through a list of conversation starters in your head but you’ve deemed them all too dumb, too boring or too invasive. Why the hell do I care so much? You glance up at Chris and wonder if he’s going through the same irrational inner turmoil you are. Maybe he’s not, or maybe he’s overcome his when he finally breaks the silence.

“So, um… how long have you been a vegan?”

“Um… how long have we been shooting this movie? My character— she’s very, uh… power to the people— and plants,” You chuckle out. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try myself. Go a little method,” you say with a shrug.

Chris waves his breadstick at you as he asks, “You believe in all that method stuff?”

“I don’t know… I’m really new to this whole acting thing, but I guess I just like the idea of really connecting with this character in every way I can. She reminds me so much of myself at that age.”

“How so?” Chris presses on.

“She’s… sure. She’s sure of herself… of her judgements and decisions. She’s sure of her hand in her own success. And that breeds this really un-fuck-with-able confidence in her that if I had an ounce of, it’d be over for you hoes,” you end with a slow nod and look off into the distance.

Chris laughs at your dramatics, but it dawns on him what you’ve shared. “Wait… you’re telling me that’s not you now? I mean, I know I’ve only known you a short time, but you seem pretty un-fuck-with-ably confident to me.”

“Ha! Guess I’m a better actress than I thought,” you mutter. Chris knows it’s meant to be a joke, but watching as you fiddled with the rings on your finger, his chest tightened. A look of sympathy must’ve shown on his face, because you start to wish you hadn’t said anything at all. Did I just overshare? God, I thought I outgrew that.

To save you from your minor embarrassment is Charlie with the same smirk from earlier. He gently places the order in the center of your table, and you finally understand what his face was trying to give away earlier.

“We’re, uh… runnin’ low on plates...” is Charlie’s half-baked explanation. “Buon appetito!” he offers before hastily leaving.

Sat between you and Chris was the meal you ordered, yes, but on the single largest plate you think you’ve ever seen. One plate of spaghetti for two people— two practical strangers— to share. The embarrassment just won’t stop, will it?

Elbow perched on the table, your hand acts as a visor of sorts on your forehead as you massage away the headache forming at your temple. You can’t see Chris, just hear him chuckling and breathing out an “oh man…” under his breath. His fork comes into view as he twirls the pasta onto it. You peek under your hand up at him.

“What? Not gonna just look at it!” Chris insists. “Now, let’s see what this vegan meatball is about… DAMN! That tastes legit!” You giggled at his enthusiasm and felt your tension melt away.

You began to dig in as well. It was fine, normal even, for a few moments. You could almost forget you’re sharing one big ass plate of pasta with one of Hollywood’s most sought after stars at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Yep, very normal. As long as I keep from oversharing the rest of this afternoon, everything should be fine… you thought to yourself.

“Tell me… how are you liking Boston?” Chris asks.

“It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’?! Just fine.”

“It’s great Chris, no need to get your panties in a twist. But, ya know… It’s just not…”

“Home? Yeah, I get that. Where’s home for you?”

“Um… well I guess home has never been a single place for me. It’s with people I love, as cheesy as that sounds. Home is where my heart is…” you trail off as you remember you shouldn’t share too much.

“And your heart is with family, friends… a boyfriend…?” Chris slips in.

“What is this? 20 questions?” You quip as you sip on your white wine.

“Maybe... if you want. You can ask me something.”

“Hmm… Ok…” You ponder over what to ask him as you twirl your pasta around your fork. “What is… mm no. How about… nah, wait.” Chris huffs impatiently as he awaits your first question. “Ok! I got it!”

“Alright, lay it on me.” Your breath hitches at his word choice and you hope doesn’t notice. Why’d he have to say it like that?! You clear your throat and ask your question.

“What’s your favorite song of mine?”

“Really? That’s your question? So conceited…”

You giggle before explaining, “Well, I only ask ‘cos a little Scottie told me he saw you, and I quote, ‘full on rocking out’ to one of my songs. I’m just curious which one it was.” You sip on your straw and peer up at Chris, watching for his reaction.

Chris groans, covering his face while sinking down the booth seat. You can’t hear too much of what he's saying behind his hands and over your laughter, but it sounds like he’s cursing Scott’s name. When he finally restores some gumption, he places his hands on his napkin, eyes fixated on his fingertips picking at the dampened corners. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip, you try your best to bite back your amusement to not further Chris’s obvious embarrassment.

“Ok…” Chris sighs out, “ I’ll admit it! I’m man enough to own up to it,” he shrugs. “Yes, I was ‘full on rocking out’ to your music. You’re amazing at what you do.”

Your face heats up, not expecting the compliment. You don’t know what to say. It’s not like you’ve never heard it before. In fact you’ve heard it a lot the past couple of years, you’d thought you’d become numb to it. Yet, for some reason, sitting across from Chris, his eyes looking tenderly into yours, the compliment you’ve heard a million times before just… hits different. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You clear your throat and break eye contact with Chris. “You still haven’t answered my question, though...”

“Right! Hold on…” Chris says as he fishes his phone from his front pocket. He scrolls through his music app to find the playlist he’s made of his favorite songs of yours. Your cheeks burn even more intensely as you watch. “‘Gemini Feed’ is my favorite to dance to; hands down! But I also really love ‘Drew Barrymore’; it’s fun… but sad, ya know? What am I saying; of course you know; it’s your song!”

You giggle in somewhat disbelief of watching Chris motherfucking Evans geek out over your songs!

“Well… this is a rare opportunity I have, to talk to the artist herself, that is. So, I have to ask, how did that song come about? From personal experience, I suppose?”

“Yeah… um, gosh. You want the full or abridged version of the story?”

“Full! Are you kidding me?!”

“Ok, ok! Well, it was right before my album was set to come out, and my boyfriend-at-the-time dumped me,” you laugh lightly at the now-funny memory. “After weeks of heated arguments and projecting his career insecurities on to me, he picked his final fight with me about how I was “acting too famous for him” and just ended things.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah... It completely caught me off guard. I couldn’t think straight in the studio that day, so I ended the session earlier and went to a party, per my best friend-slash-manager’s coercion. She’s a bad influence.”

“I like her style! Did the party help?” Chris asked.

“Well, it was on the higher-end of house parties, and I just wasn’t used to being around such an expensive lifestyle yet. But guess who was there because why wouldn’t he be?,” you exhale and roll your eyes as you reminisce.

Chris leaned in with intrigue. “The Ex?”

“Mm-hm. In my standard walk-in-the-party-scan of the room, I spot him. I should've known because that party was very much his scene, but what I wouldn't have guessed is that he'd be there with some other woman.”

“What?!”

You nod your head as you proceed to spill the tea to Chris. “This dude is there with another woman, after being out of a relationship for all of 8 hours. I think the worst part is that she looked nothing like me. Like, imagine the complete opposite of me to the hottest power, that was who was hanging all over that idiot.”

“He is a total idiot for letting you go.” You don’t know what to say to Chris’ statement and quite honestly forgot where you were, what you were talking about… “What happened next?”

“Right! We locked eyes for a moment and there wasn’t anything from him. No emotion at all. Like, he didn’t care that our relationship just ended. But then I had the thought that maybe we’d been over for a while and I had just been too distracted to realize and accept the party was over.”

“Jimi peeped what was up and got me out of there. I hoped that we could go home so that I could cry on her shoulder all night. Instead, she dragged me to a real house party. I so badly wanted to pity myself, but the energy there was too infectious to not enjoy; it felt like a 90s movie!”

“The next day, I went through my crazy ass camera roll, and I couldn’t help but... smile… and laugh! Then I thought about him, and how stupid he made me feel, and I don’t know… I kinda put all these weird, conflicting emotions into this one song, and felt better afterwards. Like I was turning a page.”

Chris didn’t immediately say anything, taking in the very personal story you shared. The somewhat unfortunate event that fueled his favorite lyrics. He looked at you carefully and quietly. However kind he looked in this moment, it didn't matter much to the creeping thoughts in your mind.

The silence made you self-conscious. You took inventory of your physical, how your face was hot, how your chest felt tight. Your left hand had somehow migrated into Chris’ right hand in the middle of the table. “I, uh— my bad…” you start as you take back your hand.

Chris quickly grabs your hand before it gets too far. “Thank you for sharing that story with me... and your music with the world. Your confidence in your vulnerability is really fucking inspiring. Thank you. Seriously, thank you,” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze for emphasis. He’s looking at you with a boyish smile and tilted head that makes you break down and smile at him, too.

“Thank you,” you return, just barely above a whisper.

——————————————————————————

You and Chris spent the rest of your time at L'amore Della Madre exchanging stories of love lost and life wins, sharing loud laughs and silent signs of admiration. To anyone on the outside looking in, it may have seemed like two had known each other longer than you actually have.

“I gotta say, I don’t like this,” Charlie whispers to you. He pulled you aside for a moment to say your goodbyes, while Chris waited for you outside. “Mostly becahse it was supposed to be my jahb to set you up with a nice Italian boy, but you’ve brought your own,” he says with a smirk.

“Oh, no! It’s not like that! Chris and I aren’t— wait… how’d you know he’s part Italian?“

“I have my sources… which may be the wait staff who are big fans of the guy. Here this is from them,” Charlie hands you a to-go box.”It’s tiramisu… for two,” he winks.

“Oh my god! I told you, we--”

“Will thank me at your wedding!” Charlie says as he waves you out of the door to the sidewalk where Chris is waiting.

“Wedding? Who’s getting married?” Chris asks.

You let out a sigh and shake your head. “Nobody. Want dessert?”

You and Chris small talk and walk and eat tiramisu on your way to the car. It was nice. It was normal. It felt… real. You didn’t realize how much you needed and missed small, yet meaningful moments like this until right now.

The pair of you stop in front of a pet shop window and watch the puppies play together for a moment. You pointed out a pair of snuggled up puppies to Chris. “Hey, they kinda look like us!”

Chris chuckles when he looks, “They do!” A chocolate brown puppy and a tannish-white one lie peacefully in one another’s presence without a care for the world on the other side of the glass. The tannish-white one starts to lick and nudge at the chocolate brown one, eliciting what you made out to be a sleepy smile from the brown pup. You don’t know why, but witnessing such intimacy causes you and Chris to straighten, fidgeting and giggling nervously.

“I had fun today.”

“As did I. You’re better company than I thought you’d be,” you joke.

“Uh… thanks?” He answers reluctantly, causing you to giggle. “Maybe we could… hang out again sometime…?”

“Maybe we could.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” There’s a beat of silence as you and Chris hold each other’s gaze. “So… you wanna take my number down?” you prompt him.

“Right! Right. Yeah, I should probably do that…” Chris stammers as he pulls out his phone. You take it from him, replacing it with your phone. You put in your number along with taking a silly picture for your contact, and he does the same.

Chris laughs at your shared child-like humor, and you revel in the moment. It was nice. It was normal. It was the first time you’d felt unmistakably connected with someone without feeling anxious of their motives or what the world thought of it in a very long time.

Time moved slowly when you were with Chris, it seemed to good to real life. But just like that, a flash snaps you and Chris out of your daze and back to reality.

You both look in the direction of the camera flash to find a young woman trying to pretend she didn’t just take a picture of the two of you. Chris turns back to you but doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead his head is hung low as he says “I really… hate that shit.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Chris looks up to your face, your gaze steady in the general direction of the perpetrator. “Makes me feel like an animal in a cage.” You say.

This is why Chris doesn’t mind celebrity companionship. You get it. You understand this strange aspect of his life that not many other people truly do. You also get the value of normalcy and privacy… and leaving when the party’s over.

“Let’s get out of here.” You say coldly and walk in the direction of the car.

Chris was baffled, to say the least. This was usually the part where you talk about how “fans” will cross invisible boundaries just because they know your face and name. However, you seemed uninterested in trauma bonding.

You were already buckled in when Chris caught up to you in the car. The energy the entire drive to your sister’s brownstone was… off. Nothing like it was earlier in the day. A simple flash changed your mood, and Chris was aching for it to go back to before. But no joke, or crank of the radio volume seemed to work.

When Chris pulls up to the curb, you immediately hop out, mumbling a final thank you to him.

“Hey,” Chris grabs your wrist gently, halting you, “You get kinda used to it. Ya know... after a while,” he says hoping you’d find comfort in his words.

You look down at where his hand was wrapped around your wrist. “Yeah… that’s what I'm afraid of... but thanks anyway.” Taking back your wrist from Chris, you turn to walk to the front door.

Chris is calling after you. He doesn't want to be emotionally intrusive, but he hopes you'll give him a chance to understand you. Help you. Comfort you. If only she'd turn around. You can't bear to look back at Chris. It will only remind you of everything good today, and why you can't have it.

Part 8 coming soon! What’d you think?

[mangozcat]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lee donghyuck x fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. fluff, heavy angst, smut 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you were forced in an awkward spot when your best friend, of which you had fallen in love with somewhere along the road, got a girlfriend. his attention was forced from your morning coffee runs and rose petal scent to the way her eyes lit up every time he gave her a kiss on the cheek. so when you finally get some time to catch up with your best friend, you eagerly took the opportunity, realizing just how much spending time with him, being forced to stay as friends, was breaking your heart. so you finally did it; you came clean to the boy of your dreams.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. haechan’s hand was interlocked with hers, eyes glowing as they discussed how nice the scented candles on display smelled. together, they seemed like the perfect image of a beautiful couple out on a mission to buy as many holiday gifts as they could. so, together, they wandered around the bath and body works inside the mall, leaving you standing at the pretzel stand in the middle of the in-door courtyard.

yeah, you were certainly third wheeling.

honestly, you weren’t sure why you had agreed to come along in the first place. you knew watching them interact and share the occasional kiss would only make your heart hurt more. and it certainly had. maybe you needed to work on your ability to say “no” aloud, but how could you, when haechan had given you that innocent look that made him look like a lost puppy? as expected, you lost.

at least you had bought a pretzel. that seemed like the highlight of this whole trip. when they disappeared inside, you decided to wander into your own store, browsing the shoes upon the shelves. maybe you’d treat yourself for all the heartache you endured (which was your fault, though you liked it better when you were in denial.)

you still don’t know when it happened.

one day, your friendship with haechan was normal, simply platonic. the two of you met in high school, stuck in some classes together. you were paired with him for a project, and when he came over to your place, two coffee’s in hand, you had decided he was a keeper.

he even introduced you to his closest friends, and you were surprised to find how well you worked together. renjun and jaemin, two of his friends, had even made a bet about who would give in first. they didn’t necessarily doubt that guys and girls could be friends, but when they saw your chemistry, they knew it would incredibly stupid if you didn’t start dating.

but the two of you had built this idea in your mind that your relationship was simply platonic. even when the two of you had shared a breathtaking kiss during a game of spin the bottle, neither of you changed your minds. just a friendship, that’s all you guys thought of it.

just a friendship.

from then, you guys had the occasional sleepover and movie night. you and haechan were as close as you could be, and you were very content with your friendship.

but then your perspective changed. when you cuddled, and his hands rested on your sides, you always noticed your heartbeat speed up drastically. every time you woke up to his smell, his sleepy smile and tired groans, you felt so happy. it was such a strange attraction for you, to learn that you were falling in love with your best friend with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. every time he was near you, you seemed to pick up this spark, always finding yourself stuck in this never-ending loop of him.

and then your world cracked.

haechan came over to your apartment one morning with a coffee in his hand, a smile etched on his lips. he seemed to excited, and for what? you weren’t entirely sure. and then he revealed to you that he had found a girl that caught his eye, and wanted you to help him choose a date location.

it all felt wrong. the way you agreed so quickly, the fake smiles you had to send to him to mask your disappointment, and how jealous you were that he was stolen from you, even though he was never yours to begin with. it should’ve been you, you had thought at the time.

it should’ve been you that got roses, that got a nice night at some nice diner with haechan, and it should’ve been you he announced to be his girlfriend the next week.

he never would know how painful it was for you. after all, how could he? you were a master of pretending, and you had been doing it for two years. it wasn’t enjoyable, nor was it easy to hide how lost you were every time you cried in jaemin’s arms about how you had lost him; how you had lost the boy of your dreams, and also your best friend.

your relationship would never be the same, especially since his eyes weren’t on you anymore, his arms weren’t wrapped around you as you watched movies, nor did he ever sleep in the same bed as you. the two of you had lost the bond that took oh-so long to develop, and you weren’t too sure if you’d ever be able to spark it again.

the three of you ended up meeting again an hour later, bringing together all of your combined gifts and placing them in haechan’s car. haechan’s girlfriend, mini, enthusiastically rambled on about how excited she was to get home and start decorating her apartment for christmas. you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up when he gazed at her, and how invested in the topic he seemed.

you had nothing against mini. in fact, the two of you were decent friends. she was nice and sweet and honestly held no ill intent. it was strange, enjoyable, and painful knowing that you got along with the girl that stole away your haechan. he wasn’t yours to begin with, you had to remind yourself, he doesn’t belong to you.

“what about you?” mini asked you, a smile on her face. her hair was shoulder length, a cute style you thought fit her quite well. short and well shaped bangs adorned her forehead and you were reminded of how pretty she was. green eyes, light pink cheeks and puffy lips, she was quite a stunner.

“what’s up?” you asked, knitting your eyebrows together. perhaps you had zoned out for a little longer than expected. mini shook her head, knowing a little too well that you had done this since the two of you met. you were never there, always in your own little world.

“I asked if you were excited to decorate,” mini reminded politely. at some point, haechan had sneaked off to the bathroom, leaving you and mini alone for a minute or two.

“oh!” you exclaimed, “a bit? I’m certainly not hyped to get out my decorations or put in the effort to put them up, but I’m excited for the end result. I always loved the lights especially, they’re always so stunning and magical to me.”

she let out a small laugh, accepting your honesty. “me too, to be honest. I only really enjoy the decorating part because of my mom,” she said, a fond smile appearing on her face at the mention of her mother. “she made us put up decorations every year, and our house always looked like a mess. but it was something we all did together, at least.”

mini never really talked to you about her family, but it was nice to hear about. often times, the two of you only spoke about casual things (most of which involved haechan), and it never really got deeper than that. it was strangely nice, you noticed.

when haechan returned from the bathroom, shooting you both a dazzling smile and asking if you were ready to leave, you and mini nodded eagerly. getting in his car and getting ready to drive back to your apartments, you couldn’t help but notice the way haechan’s fingers laced with hers over the middle compartment.

and suddenly, the pain was back.

with mini living closest to the mall, she had been dropped off first. and as perfect as it had seemed, you and haechan were left alone, the man driving you home whilst quietly humming along to the song on the radio. his fingers idly drummed against the steering wheel and you were left to bask in the silence of the moment, staring out the window.

“we used to listen to this song,” he finally said, finger drifting over to turn up the music. when you heard the song, a soft smile appeared on your face as you heard the soft tunes in your ears. “when we met, specifically.”

you remembered. how could you forget? haechan would always stumble into your appartment with his notebook, ready to study with you. and when the two of you began, he’d put on some playlist of his. you always loved this song in specific, and it got to the point where he played it on loop, turning the sound down as to not dull your mind from listening to it on repeat.

“I still love it,” you smiled slightly, tilting your head back against the seat. closing your eyes, you listened to the song, getting lost in the familar lyrics.

“yeah, me too.”

you wanted to talk to him like you used to. wanted to claim that the silence was comfortable, and that you didn’t need to say anything out loud to feel content with your friendship. yet, you couldn’t. it felt forced, the small conversation, and it quickly died out. the silence was awkward, and you were fearful of what that meant.

you had hoped it would never get to this point. where you were unfamiliar with alone time, and were lost when it came to talking to him whilst alone. it never felt like the two of you actually hung out, and were simply clinging onto what you thought was familiar; each other.

but you weren’t familar anymore and holding on was hopeless, you knew. the two of you were too scared to move on, to put each other in the past and move onto better things, less painful things. it was unfixable.

but yet, despite knowing that, your heart still jumped when he said, “I miss spending time with you, y’know.” you had glanced over at the boy, his eyes still on the road. “I heard there’s a firework show in town later this week. would you-“ he paused, lost in how to ask for one simple thing; to accompany him to the last set of normality he could remember, -“I don’t know, maybe, would you want to go with me?”

you smiled, “like old times?”

he finally looked over at you when he came to a stop at a red light. smiling, he nodded, “just like old times.”

preview | part one | part two 

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ to dedicate a song ]

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 2.6k words

contains: bassist!tsukishima, violinist!reader, slight angst, fluff, if you really like fingers and people who play stringed instruments this is for you

summary: tsukishima’s love for music has always been apparent ever since you saw him play at the store you worked at. little do you know that helping him out would result in some changes for you

a/n: after months of fantasizing i finally got around to writing a bassist!tsukishima fic. also special thanks to my awesome myuts who helped me come up with ideas for this fic ! aka @scorpiosanssexy​ for the bassist!tsukki aesthetic, @ah-kaashi​ for making reader a fellow musician, and @alto-march-of-death​ for the classical music recommendations <3

(music pegs at the end of the fic)

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the first time you met tsukishima kei was at the music store you worked part-time at. he was hard to miss, especially with his height and light blonde hair, and even though he didn’t seem to want to attract attention, your gaze couldn’t help but be pulled in his direction. 

immediately, he headed to the store section with the instruments that are free to play. it wasn’t uncommon for customers to take advantage of that area to play some music so seeing tsukishima take out the bass guitar and plug it into an amplifier didn’t concern you. but it did make you lean against the counter and keep watching as he placed his fingers along the fretboard and plucked at the strings. 

‘electric guitar music’ wasn’t really your thing and that applied to their four-stringed cousins. customers who came in rarely touched the bass guitar and when they did, it was out of sheer curiosity. tsukishima fit your image, built on stereotypes, of a bass guitarist: quiet, withdrawn, stand-offish even. but when he played, it was as if the whole world was falling quiet around him. it was as if he wasn’t right smack in the middle of a music store with a lone employee behind the counter watching him. 

the thing about being the only music store in a relatively small town is that everyone who comes in is a regular customer. you were pretty sure you’ve seen tsukishima come in a few times before to buy albums. but after that day he tried out the bass, he kept coming back at least once every few days to do the same thing again. neither of you really paid any mind to the other, but you were both aware of each other’s presence, especially on days when you were the only two people in the entire store.

the tall, blonde guy seemed to have quite the singular objective, so of course, it was up to you to initiate conversation.

“you’ve probably worn down those strings by now,” you said, watching him with your head on the chin as tsukishima removed the strap and placed the bass back on its stand. 

“it’s not against the rules,” he muttered.

“no, but you are taking good advantage of them,” you smiled, leaning back in your seat. “relax, i’m not telling you off or anything.” 

“then, what are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. the question did sound defensive, but judging by how he was holding himself, he was mostly curious.

you shrugged. “you’re probably the most exciting customer who ever comes here, aside from the guy who buys madonna albums looking like he’s buying drugs.” 

“oh, that guy,” tsukishima nodded with a knowing smirk on his face.

“anyway, when are you finally going to buy one?” you asked. 

“you want me out that bad, huh?” 

“terribly.” 

“well, if you can somehow get my boss at the car wash to actually pay me for working overtime, that would be great,” tsukishima rolled his eyes.

“ah, figured,” you snorted. you followed his gaze to the row of bass guitars on display and felt a pang in your chest. you knew that look. 

“hey,” you called out to him just before he left for the door. “sometimes the boss has a sale on the instruments, usually towards the end of the month.” 

“really?” tsukishima asked, eyes wide.

“i could, maybe, suggest something during a staff meeting,” you shrugged. “not making any promises though but, i’ll try.” 

tsukishima looked back at the guitars and then at you, looking unsure of what to say, before muttering a “thank you.” 

“you can write a song about me as thanks“, you decided to tease. you imagined that he was the kind of person who would get flustered easily and for a second, you enjoyed seeing the caught off-guard look on his face. except, tsukishima recovered his composure completely and used the opportunity to launch his own attack.

“i’m afraid i’d have to know your name first,” he smirked. 

in that moment, you were sure of two things: that tsukishima was an annoying prick and that someday, you were going to fall for him.

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for someone who dresses in some variation of the standard jeans and t-shirt combination, tsukishima had surprisingly colorful socks. you knew this because he still kept his socks on when he was hanging out in your room, playing the bass on your bed. he was hanging out in your room because somehow, you had invited him here a few weeks ago and you two had been doing this since. you had invited him because having tsukishima in your room was the opposite of the Worst Thing in the World, especially since he laughed at your jokes about the music store customers and knew how to fry chicken nuggets until they were perfectly crispy.

plus, he was nice to look at with his blonde hair falling over his forehead while he leaned forward to practice the same riff again and again on the bass guitar that he was eventually able to buy. seeing that guitar in his hands gave you a sense of pride. you helped make this happen and now, you get to listen to tsukishima play.

“your timing was off again,” you said, turning around with your arm resting on the back of your chair. 

“tch,” tsukishima clicked his tongue, brushing his bangs back from his face. “i was pretty sure i had it just now.” you smiled sympathetically and stood up from your chair before walking across the room. tsukishima’s eyes followed where you went until you placed an object in front of him.

“what’s this?” 

“it’s called a metronome,” you said, pulling the needle in the center just so and letting it tick freely to a steady beat. “it will help you stay on time.” 

“it sounds annoying,” tsukishima quirked an eyebrow.

“it is annoying,” you smiled broadly. “now get on with it.” 

you had never seen tsukishima look more stressed the way he did now while practicing with the metronome. he even practiced standing up at the corner of your room. frustration was written on his face and yet, he persisted. 

for a minute, you saw yourself standing there, eyes concentrated at your sheet music while you played your violin. years ago, you used to play without a single care in the world, just like tsukishima. now, all you were left with was an ache in your fingertips and a violin in its case, gathering dust on a top shelf.

“how was that?” tsukishima asked. you smiled a little, realizing that he trusted your opinion.

“much better,” you nodded approvingly.

“really?” he raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. you giggled at the look on his face.

“really, really.” 

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tsukishima knew you were keeping a secret. not in a sense that you were deliberately hiding something from him, more like you were deliberately not telling him about something. it started when he caught the longing expression on your face while you watched him play. 

“do you, wanna try it out?” tsukishima asked, gesturing at his bass and thinking that maybe you wanted to try playing it.

“what? what makes you think that?” you frowned.

“just... forget it,” tsukishima shook his head hurriedly and going back to working on the riff he was practicing. this time, he let himself be distracted by taking in the details of your bedroom that he was now so familiar with. you had your laptop and other bits of notebooks and stationery on your desk. your small collection of plush animals on a shelf above your bed. some pictures in frames of you with family members and friends on top of your bookshelves. there was a vanity in the corner of the room with different beauty products that tsukishima could now name.

but he couldn’t help but feel as if there was something missing, that there was a part of yourself you had deliberately removed from your room. sometimes, tsukishima felt the same way about you too. sure, your head was chock-full of semi-useless facts and you had the best barbecue sauce recipe for chicken nuggets but, tsukishima still couldn’t put a finger on who you were.

tsukishima’s gaze traveled to the movie posters on your wall until they reached one of the upper shelves. right beside a couple of books was what unmistakably looked like an instrument case. 

after that, he started to notice other things too: the fact that you had a metronome that even had a sticker of your name on the bottom, how you could easily tell when he was on or off-beat, even the indifferent look on your face whenever tsukishima recommended a band for you to listen to.

“you’re a musician too, aren’t you?” he decided to finally ask. the two of you were sitting on the floor, your backs leaning against your bed. tsukishima’s knees were pulled up to his chest because of how little floor space there was.

you tensed up at the question before sighing. “well, you were going to find out soon enough.” 

“you weren’t exactly hiding it either,” tsukishima muttered. and, acting on impulse, he reached out to your left hand that was resting on top of your knee. they were noticeably smaller than his own hands, but tsukishima couldn’t help but notice how your nails were always neatly cut short. then, he ran his index lightly over your fingertips. it was barely detectable, but tsukishima was familiar enough with the callouses from playing string instruments to know that you once had those too.

all this time, tsukishima couldn’t tell if you were breathing. heck, he couldn’t tell if he was breathing either. the moment felt fragile and at the same time the tiniest bit unbreakable. gently, he set your hand back down on your knee.

“what made you stop?” he ventured to ask.

“when you’re young you don’t care about whether you’re a genius or not, when you get a bit older you strive for that perfection and greatness,” you said, staring down at a spot on the floor. “then, when you get much older than that, you realize that you’re just a normal person.” 

“but did you stop enjoying it? playing?” tsukishima asked.

“when i realized that i wasn’t really good enough to listen to, i just... stopped,” you said. tsukishima knew he’d never be able to describe the sadness written on your face. he glanced at his bass, propped upright on the pillows on your bed, and wondered how much longer he would have spent visiting the music store just to be able to play.

“i’ll listen to you,” he said.

“tsuki--”

before you could respond, tsukishima stood up and crossed your room in a few short strides before carefully picking up the instrument case on your shelf and making his way back to you. carefully, he placed the case on your bed. instantly, tsukishima recognized it as a violin case. he smiled softly at the stickers decorated along its sides and carefully wiped away the dust before finally unclasping it.

tsukishima didn’t even need to look at you to know that you had that same, longing expression on your face at the sight of your violin. he picked up the instrument, carefully and with both hands, before giving it to you. you didn’t say anything. it was only when he was about to get your bow that he heard your voice.

“stop,” you sat up with a start. tsukishima panicked, thinking that he had maybe pushed you too far, when you said “hold it by the far end,” gesturing with your chin. “don’t... you’re not supposed to touch the hair.” 

tsukishima obeyed, picking up the bow carefully by its small handle before giving it to you. for a while, you just held your violin in your hands and tsukishima sat back down, letting you take it all in. he remembered the first time he bought his bass and took it home, how he laid it gently on the bed and just looked at it, occasionally running his fingers down the shiny fretboard and brand new strings.

“i haven’t played in a long time,” you said. “to say that i’m pretty rusty is an understatement.” 

“do you think i’d be able to tell if you were playing well or not?” tsukishima snorted.

“i guess not,” you chuckled slightly before standing up. tsukishima watched as you straightened your back, eyes facing forward, before positioning the violin in place under your chin, your left fingers on the fretboard, and your right hand holding the very end of your bow.

tsukishima had never seen you look more alive than when you were playing your violin again. your brow was knit slightly in concentration, your eyes closed and tsukishima could tell you were purely focused on the sound you were producing. it wasn’t just your fingers and wrist at work but your whole body, leaning back when you hit the high notes and bending forward when transitioning to the lower notes. he wasn’t much of a classical music fan, tsukishima couldn’t tell if you were playing ‘correctly’ or if you were making any mistakes, but he thought you played beautifully.

nothing could distract tsukishima from seeing the shine in your eyes and that brought a smile to his face. and all he could think was ‘i’m going to write a song for them one day.’ 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

band concerts were way different from the classical music concerts you were used to. even if it was a fairly small one at a local bar, you still weren’t used to the feeling of other people’s bodies pressing against yours. “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” tsukishima had said. no way were you missing any of his and his band’s gigs.

“thank you all so much for coming,” kuroo, their lead vocalist greeted everyone. you clapped and cheered with the rest of them. he was undeniably the fan favorite and you could easily see why. however, you could never tear your gaze away from the bass guitarist who just stood a little off to the side. you remembered when tsukishima was still a little shy about playing onstage and how he’d often keep his head down, even when they weren’t playing. but slowly, he had grown a bit more comfortable. you couldn’t help but notice the small smirk on his face when someone screamed his name.

‘cocky bastard,’ you thought with a smile on your face. 

“now, we have a little, surprise ending number,” kuroo grinned into the microphone at the wave of cheers. “unfortunately, it won’t be performed by me. but, i think some of you will especially like this.” with a sly wink, kuroo stepped away from the microphone and to yours and everyone’s surprise, tsukishima walked up to replace him.

“hello,” he spoke into the mic, earning more than a few screams from the audience. you couldn’t speak, admiring the way the stage lights made the sweat on his arms glisten. he had grown his hair out over the past few months and often styled it to look messy for shows. biting your lip, you remembered the first time you met tsukishima back at the music store. 

“so, i’m not much of a songwriter,” tsukishima admitted. “and, this is my first time writing a song and performing it. and it’s... dedicated to someone.” you were pretty sure that that confession earned more than a few cheers from the audience, but you couldn’t hear anything with your gaze focused on tsukishima’s. his amber eyes found yours easily amongst the crowd and the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile. 

you were right in thinking that tsukishima was an annoying bastard and that you were going to fall for him. but never in your wildest dreams did you think that he was actually going to dedicate a song.

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music pegs (aka the music pieces i had in mind for some of the scenes):

y/n’s violin piece: chopin nocturne op. 9 no. 2

tsukishima’s song at the end: slow dance with you (ok i know it’s a wlw song but i just love the idea of anyone singing it for me and real-person bassists)

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan​ @therainroguefanfiction​ @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh​ @charliefredb​ @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @atsumu-brainrot @goodfoodxoxoxo​ @ah-kaashi​ @guardianangelswings​

[lulu-zodiac]

Title: You'll Know All I Haven't Said

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, Pining, AU

Summary: Cas has always had an unnerving knack for knowing what Dean wants the most, even before Dean knows it himself.

If you want to be added to my fic tag list, let me know! <3

.

Cas always gives the best presents.

Dean knows it’s something to do with his unnervingly observant nature, the way he’s so tuned into the people around him. Or maybe just Dean. The thought makes something unfurl in Dean’s stomach that’s feels a bit like fear, or anticipation maybe. It happens a lot when he thinks of Cas, these days. Which is a lot, if Dean is being totally honest. Cas is his best friend, has been since they were both eight years old, so it’s normal that he occupies a lot of space in Dean’s head. It’s just that these days – sometimes it’s so much that it scares Dean, just a little. Because he knows there isn’t much time left where Cas will be a daily fixture of his life; next fall, they’re both heading off to college and everything’s going to be different.

That’s why, Dean tells himself, he’s spent so much time trying to think of what to give Cas this Christmas. It’s hard to top Cas’s gift-giving skills. He has always had an unnerving knack for somehow knowing exactly what Dean wants, even before Dean knows it himself. Not that Dean would tell him, but all his most treasured gifts over the years have all been from Cas. A wonky, handmade wooden impala car Cas made in his Dad’s workshop when he was twelve. Zeppelin concert tickets the Christmas they were both fifteen. Last year, an anthology of Neruda with Cas’s scrawling writing on the opening page, which Dean has read more than the poems the book contains (not that he’d admit that to Cas).

The only problem with Cas being so amazing at choosing gifts is that Dean always feels under pressure to match Cas’s presents, give him something that he’ll treasure as much as Dean treasures the gifts Cas gives him. And the thing is, Cas is hard to buy for, hard to read, a lot of the time. Even though Dean spends more time with Cas than anyone else, and spends even more time thinking about Cas, he’s never quite sure what’s going on in his head. And that makes it difficult, because Dean so wants to make this last Christmas before they both go their separate ways special.

The thought of not being around Cas every day makes his whole chest ache, so Dean tries not to do it. But sometimes it just creeps up on him and it’s like having a bucket of ice water poured over him, a constant knife in his chest that twists deeper and deeper as it gets closer to the time he knows they’ll have to say goodbye. It’s not just about parting ways – Dean knows there’s no way he and Cas won’t stay best friends. But it's like there's also something that Dean's always been waiting for that might not get to happen, that graduating and leaving for college might get in the way of, and even though Dean has no idea what it is he’s waiting for, the idea that it might get pushed aside, might never happen, is somehow unbearable.

After a week of agonising over options, it’s finally Christmas Eve and Dean is standing on Cas’s doorstep, breath clouding out in front of him in the frosty air. There’s small parcel in the pocket of his leather jacket that he fiddles with nervously as he waits, feeling the bumps of his own bad gift-wrapping skills. His stomach flips over inexplicably when the hall lights flicker on there’s the sound of keys in the lock.

“Dean,” Cas smiles, quiet but sincere, and stands back to let Dean in. Dean is hit, as he is not infrequently these days, by how good-looking Cas has become. He’s not built but he’s lean, strong-looking, with a kind of grace about the way he carries himself. Tonight, he’s wearing an indigo knitted sweater that he got in a thrift store with Dean last year, and it makes the blue of his gaze feel infinite as it sweeps over Dean, familiar and warm.

“Hey,” Dean smiles stupidly, suddenly feeling self-conscious as he steps into the hallway. It’s warm and smells faintly of incense and home-baking, but they don’t linger, heading straight up the stairs to Cas’s room as usual.

“Very festive,” Dean remarks as Cas closes the door behind them, noting the multi-coloured fairy lights Cas has strewn around the window, glowing softly and casting the room into muted colours. Dean secretly prefers Cas’s room to his; he’s spent so much time in it over the years that it feels just as much like home, maybe even a little more because it has Cas in it.

“Thanks,” Cas is standing by the door, arms folded across his chest as he watches Dean inspect his bookshelf, run his fingertip along the spines. “There’s a new one there for you, if you want it.” His expression is uncharacteristically unreadable. Not that Cas is easy to read – not by any stretch of the imagination. But Dean’s spent a long time mapping out his different expressions and mannerisms, and it’s not often these days that he’s faced with one he can’t place at all. This one is not unfamiliar, though. It’s one he’s noticed playing across Cas’s features increasingly often in recent months, generally when he glances up and catches Cas off guard. It’s an expression that niggles away at the back of Dean’s mind when he’s trying to get to sleep at night, gets under his skin.

Dean looks reluctantly away from Cas and back to the shelves, eyeing them more closely. His hand pauses on an unfamiliar hardback, Bluebeard by Vonnegut. “This?”

“If you want it,” Cas says, and Dean thinks he detects a note of apprehension beneath the warmth, a kind of distraction, as though he’s thinking about something else, which is a sharp contrast to his often unnerving focus that’s usually directed Dean’s way.

“Thanks,” Dean takes the book of the shelf and flips through the pages, catches a few flashes of Cas’s dextrous scrawl.

“Don’t – don’t read my notes now,” Cas crosses the room, takes the book from Dean’s hands and closes it. “Not when I’m here.”

Dean eyes him curiously. One of his favourite things about Cas lending him books all the time is getting to read Cas’s private thoughts filling the margins. “Is this my Christmas present? Not like you to forgo the fancy paper and the chance to upstage my gift-wrapping skills.”

A smile pulls at the corner of Cas’s mouth, his eyes crinkle with quiet amusement even though the nervousness doesn’t dissipate, Dean notes. “No, it’s not your present.”

“Then where is it?” Dean asks, glancing around the room – but there’s no sight of a gift. Just the soft glow of the fairy lights and Cas’s notebooks on his desk, a couple of jumpers hanging over the back of his chair, the little cactus Dean gave him for his birthday two years ago sitting stoutly on his bedside table.

“You’re very demanding,” Cas admonishes, handing the book back to Dean and crossing the room to sit down on one end of the window seat, curling up like a cat. There’s a twinkle of amusement in his blue gaze, but he pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands, something Dean knows he only does when he’s nervous. The thought makes a pang of nerves curl through Dean too, although he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know why it feels like they’re waiting for something.

“Well, you’re very mysterious,” Dean counters, flopping down on the other end of the window-seat and pushing one of his socked feet playfully at Cas’s. “And unnervingly good at presents, which is why I’m so particularly demanding today. I’m expecting great things. How is that you always seem to know exactly what I want?”

“I very much hope that’s true this year,” Cas says, quiet in a way that makes Dean catch his breath, inexplicably nervous too. He’s looking down, still fiddling with the stray thread from the cuff of his jumper. His expression is uncharacteristically vulnerable in the soft light, messy dark hair and wide eyes so blue that they make Dean’s heart fumble a beat in his chest when Cas suddenly looks up, holds Dean’s gaze. It’s very quiet, the space between them. Dean feels very aware of his heart, doesn’t know why it’s suddenly going quite so fast. “You go first,” Cas says, low, eyes intent and full of something, and it takes Dean a moment to remember what they’re talking about.

“Oh – yeah, okay,” he stutters, feeling his cheeks flush as he fumbles in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the package he’d wrapped earlier. “Look – don’t get too excited. You know I’m not great at presents, but I wanted to do something special, because you know –” he breaks off, trying to push down the sudden sharpness in his chest, “This might be the last Christmas we spend together, and I don’t want you to go forgetting me when you’re off being all genius at some school I’d never be able to get into.” He thrusts the present unceremoniously at Cas. “Badly wrapped as usual, sorry,” he adds, as an afterthought.

“Dean,” Cas is holding the wrapped present, but he’s not looking at it. He’s looking at Dean with the kind of familiar, earnest sincerity that makes Dean’s heart ache, that he’s going to miss so much. “There is no chance of me ever forgetting you,” Cas says slowly, and the something in his gaze deepens, turning into something that makes Dean feel simultaneously as though he wants to look away and never look away again. The space between them suddenly feels intimate, theirs. Just the two of them, the way Dean always aches for when it’s not.

“Thanks,” Dean says, gathering himself, but his voice sounds unsteady to his own ears, like he suddenly feels. Off-kilter, dizzy, like they’re both spinning into orbit. “Okay, okay, open the goddamn present already,” Dean mumbles, awkward, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Cas keeps looking at him like that, and he’s afraid of how much he wants to find out.

Cas looks at him a beat longer, before dropping his attention to the present, unwrapping it carefully with his long, dextrous fingers. There’s a moment when he pulls the leather-bound album out of the shell of wrapping where Dean feels hot all over, embarrassed by his own sentiment. He digs his nails into his palm, watches as Cas opens it and goes still, reading Dean’s inscription. There’s a long pause, and then he turns the first page, and then the next and the next, looking at the photos of him and Dean that Dean has collected from over the years: the two of them togged up in winter coats and red welly boots, making snow-angels in Dean’s back garden; Cas aged ten with a tearstained face, watching as Dean puts a band-aid on his grazed knee; both of them on their first day of middle school, Cas moody with pins all over his jacket and scruffy converse sneakers, Dean grinning with his letterman; Cas, windswept and smiling two summers ago, lying on a sandy beach and gazing up at Dean with that a hint of that something Dean can’t get out of his head now.

Cas finally looks up at him, eyes so blue it hurts to look at them. “Thank you, Dean,” his voice is slightly hoarse. “This –” he breaks off, swallows, turning the album over in his hands. “This must have taken you ages.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean mumbles gruffly, cheeks heating up. His heart is racing, and he wants to change the subject, take the focus away from how intimate the present suddenly feels now that Cas is holding all their memories in his hands. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m glad you like it, but you know I can’t handle chick flick moments. Come on, your turn. Where’s mine?”

The unreadable look is back on Cas’s face with more intensity, combined with something Dean definitely recognises as nervousness now. Cas’s chest is rising and falling more rapidly, eyes wider than usual, cheeks slightly flushed as he holds Dean’s gaze, almost like he’s steeling himself for something. “Okay,” he says, seemingly more to himself than to Dean. Okay, close your eyes.”

“What?” Dean blinks.

“Close them,” Cas says, with slightly more authority, but Dean can see the way Cas’s fingers are trembling where he’s still holding all of their memories, their whole friendship in his hands. Cas glances down at it unreadably, like it’s suddenly fragile, and then back at Dean. He swallows, repeats, “Dean,” quietly imploring.

Dean closes his eyes. Cas’s gaze and the fairy lights all fade into to soft shadow. Vision gone, Dean suddenly feels very aware of the proximity between them, the almost imperceptible warmth of Cas beside him, the way their thighs are pressed lightly together. Dean has a sudden urge to nudge his closer to Cas’s, to close all the gaps and feel how warm Cas really is. He breathes in, suddenly breathless, and is overwhelmed by the smell of Cas’s skin, familiar and musky, a hint of the patchouli incense he always burns when he’s working. The smell of home. Dean’s heart is suddenly racing so hard it hurts. “Cas?”

Cas is silent. There’s a pause that might be a single heartbeat or the whole last ten years, and then there’s warm, tentative pressure against Dean’s mouth. Cas’s lips, silken soft and hot, brushing tenderly, slowly, against his. Cas’s hands cupping his face, rough and warm and trembling, holding him still as the world spins away into nothing. Cas’s breath, gentle and unsteady against Dean’s mouth, punctuating the kiss.

Dean’s eyes fly open, and the first thing he sees is blue. Deep, exhilarating blue. Like the sky at that moment just between dusk and darkness. And then he’s drowning. He ducks forward and captures Cas’s mouth again with his, stomach somersaulting at the stifled sound Cas makes, like he thought Dean wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t want this. The heat unfurling deep Dean’s chest intensifies at the way Cas’s hands grab at the front of Dean’s shirt, clumsy and desperate, the way Cas shifts closer, all warmth. Cas’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect, tongue twining with Dean’s as they kiss, pressing so close together that their noses nudge together, that Dean’s not sure who’s heartbeat belongs to who anymore.

When they break apart for breath, Cas’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dark and shining. He’s so beautiful Dean aches with it.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas says, voice low and heavy in a way that makes arousal curl through Dean. His eyes are full of quiet happiness, and that something that Dean hasn’t been able to get out of his head for months. It’s wonderful to finally know what it is, to know that it is this. Dean feels like he’s floating.

“Merry Christmas,” Dean echoes, dazedly, and his voice sounds as rough as Cas’s. He shakes his head, smiling in disbelief. “I told you that you always know what I want before I do,” he pauses, “Though, amazing as all the others were, I think this present might just top the list.” Dean is vaguely aware that he’s grinning giddily, heart still pounding.

“I wasn’t sure you’d like it,” Cas admits, looking down, and Dean catches a hint of the nervousness Cas was full of earlier, that makes sense now. Dean feels a rush of warmth for him at the courage it must have taken to cross that line, to take a whole ten years of friendship in his hands and do what Dean never had the courage for.

“Hey,” Dean reaches out, twines their hands together. It’s reassuring the way he can feel Cas trembling a bit too, reminding him they’re both in this together, it’s just the two of them, the way Dean likes it best. “Cas. It’s the best present I’ve ever had,” he says, honestly. Cas looks up and smiles at him, brighter than the lights above them, than anything Dean’s ever known – and Dean suddenly has to rethink his words, because Cas looking at him like that, so full of love and happiness, is better than anything Dean could ever have imagined.

.