#i hit the image limit so i’ll do the rest tomorrow morning

[wellduckmanidk]

discord therapy gang as random images i have on my phone for reasons we don’t question

Ari-

Birb-

Cim-

Ender-

Izzy-

Lyn-

Mega-

Parr-

Percy-

Me-

[rosequartzwriting]

The Sorcerer and The Agent

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Avenger!Reader

Description: After a training session, you stumble into a meeting where an unexpected visitor makes you, a former SHIELD Agent, shy. 

Warnings: Non

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Originally posted on Quotev / This story is divided into two parts, one through the readers point of view and one where it is retold in Stephen’s perspective.

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

PART ONE: The Agent

This morning's training was brutal. Natasha usually pushed you hard, but something today told her to push your limits. Some force in the universe told her to make you suffer today. And you did. By the end you were drenched in sweat, gasping for a proper breath of air, and in desperate need of a hot shower. You knew your muscles would be screaming at you tomorrow morning.

After you had taken a break, one that consisted of you lying on the training room floor for a while, Nat asked you to go tell Tony that the hologram training simulator was having some problems. He had been working on the thing for a while and there were still a few glitches that you had discovered today. Forcing your legs to get up and move, you made your way to the elevator to head a few floors up, regardless how wobbly they were feeling. They were literally jelly and it took you a little to get coordination back.

A post-workout towel was swung around your neck and you were still wearing your gear. Workout leggings, sports bra and top, the gloves you always wore on the field. Nat did not give you anytime to change before she sent you on your way to Tony. You were a hot mess and very tired, so you were ready to get it done and over with so you could shower and take a nap. FRIDAY told you that Stark was in the upstairs lounge.

Dabbing off the last bit of sweat from your forehead, you yawned from how tired you were as the elevator opened and you stepped into hallway that lead to the lounge. As you walked in you spoke, "Stark, your hologram training simulator is having some problems. It looks like there's something wrong with-"

You stopped dead.

Along with Tony, who was resting on a chair that was pulled backwards, there were two more people gathered around a table where small meetings were often held. One of them was Steve, who had some paperwork out in front of him. The other was Stephen Strange. You had not expected him to be there. He looked bored, listening to Tony talking probably. But his expression changed a little when the three of them heard you walk in.

Sure, you did not want to admit it but you found the man very attractive. Whenever he came to the compound you always tried to sneak an extra glance at him when he was not looking. And when you were not doing that you were trying not to look at him cause he might see the blush on your face. But when you did have to look at him, whether it be at a meeting or at a gathering or just across the room to say hi, you lost your ability to focus. Something about him made you forget everything else. His sarcasm and quick wit that rivaled Tony's. Perfectly styled hair with swoops of grey that were surprisingly fitting to his style. Neatly kept facial hair that framed his cupid's bow-lips that you often wondered of their softness. Beautiful eyes of crystal ocean blue that are always so bright, even when giving a cold stare. And that voice, Goddamn that smooth, low voice.

And there you were, looking like a total mess in front of him.

You wish you had not listened to Nat, that you instead went to your room and took a nap right away. You wished you were not looking like you just walked out of a workout session while your skin glistened with the remains of sweat and your hair messy. And you wish you could go hide of embarrassment.

You snapped out of your little trance of shock and tired to pick back up what you were saying, "w-with the projectors."

Tony visibly scrunched up his face, "That's weird. It was working when I tested it yesterday."

You struggled to speak when you were this distracted and surprised, "Nat and I were training. The thing is busted."

You could feel his eyes on you. I regret this, you mentally whined to yourself.

"I'll have a look at it later."

You would have turned around and walked out, make it look like you had some work to do. But instead Steve had to open his mouth. "Training go well today, (Y/N)?"

You wanted to die.

"Sure." You shrugged, trying to keep cool. "Nat pushed me hard."

"Looks like it." Steve laughed. You wanted to punch him.

You chuckled nervously and cleared your throat, "Well um I'm gonna go upstairs and shower. I have more work to do after."

As you said this, your eyes met with Stephen's. Direct eye contact with those blue eye, those beautiful blue eyes. You risked a little smile at him. You probably looked dumb in the state you were in so you sort of regretted it. But the smile you got back made you not regret it at all.

You turned on your heel and walked as fast as you could without looking suspicious.

"Oh! You need to refile that mission report from yesterday, (Y/N). FRIDAY processed your bodycam footage and you need to make a new timeline."

"I'm aware, Stark!" You did not look back as you snapped at him. Just another task on your ever growing list of things to do.

Upon exiting, you missed the door. You ran into the door frame with a bang. You tried to brush it off like everything was fine. You felt everyone's eyes turn back to you, digging into you like the weight of the embarrassment itself. And you swore you heard someone chuckling as you quickly left the room.

Now you were desperate to go hide in your room and never show your face again.

PART TWO: The Sorcerer

Listening to Tony babble was always brutal. Every single time Stephen came to the Avengers compound for a meeting the man of iron would always end up talking too much. The look on Steve's face said that even he was tired of listening to Tony talk about this new technology he has been working on. Stephen could not even remember what it was in the first place, something about holograms maybe. His fingers tapped on the table, the metal of his slingring making an impatient  noise as it hit the wood.

Both him and Captain Rogers exchanged a look. They wanted this meeting to keep going but Stark would not shut up. This happened often. A little too often. His mind started to wander, draining out Tony's voice and being replaced with his long to do list for today.

Suddenly the door to the lounge opened and someone walked into the room, soft footsteps hitting the floor as they came closer.

"Stark, your hologram training simulator is having some problems. It looks like there's something wrong with-"

Stephen perked up at the familiar voice. He quickly connected it to the owner. It was (Y/N) (L/N)'s voice. And there she was when he looked up.

He was not expecting to see her in the state she was currently in.

She was wearing workout clothes like she had just come from training, looking a little out of breath and energy. Traces of sweat covered her forehead and shoulder, and her cheeks were flushed a soft pink. Her skin glowed a little. He made note of what exactly she was wearing, a tank top with a sports bra peaking out from underneath. A pair of gloves that he had seen her wear before. And leggings. Very form fitting ones. He clenched his jaw and swallowed.

Whenever he needed to come to the Avengers compound for some business, he kind of hoped to catch a glance of her. Something about her always grabbed his attention. She was attractive, but also very kind and sweet. He would see you laughing with your coworkers and the image would stick in his head for a while. He would remember a snarky comment you made at a meeting that made him chuckle a little too hard. He would wonder what you looked like on a field mission, all serious or with a sprinkle of cockiness between a determined look. You were very interesting to him, in a good way.

"w-with the projectors." She finished. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he forgot she was talking for a second.

Then the thought of her working out in that outfit came to mind... but he quickly shut that out because he knew where that would go. But it trickled in the corners of his mind, and the wonder poked at him about another situation where she would be blushing and covered in sw-

He stopped himself as Tony's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "That's weird. It was working when I tested it yesterday."

"Nat and I were training. The thing is busted." Her voice cracked.

He risked another glance at you, and he did not regret it.

"I'll have a look at it later." Tony groaned.

"Training go well today, (Y/N)?" Rogers asked her.

The woman shrugged, "Sure. Nat pushed me hard."

The captain laughed, "Looks like it."

At that moment Stephen realized that she looked a little embarrassed. He was not sure why. But he swear he saw the already present blush on her cheeks deepen. She chuckled a little, he sensed a trace of nervousness in it. Yes she was embarrassed. He had to admit, it was kind of cute.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, "Well um I'm gonna go upstairs and shower. I have more work to do after."

He made eye contact with her. She smiled at him, and he melted a little. It was a very pretty smile. He gave her one right back, a genuine one that reflected her own.

Her previous words echoed in his mind. Shower. Stephen, stop!

The woman turned to leave and the others turned back to the table and paperwork they were going through. Stephen let out a breath as he turned his attention back to the material of the meeting.

"Oh! You need to refile that mission report from yesterday, (Y/N). FRIDAY processed your bodycam footage and you need to make a new timeline."

"I'm aware, Stark!"

The corner of his lips tugged up.

There was a bang and (Y/N) had run into the door frame, causing the three men to look up. She quickly left the room, it was now obvious that she was embarrassed. He did not blame her since she just pulled a maneuver like that. A SHIELD agent and master of stealth, from what he was told, just dumbly ran into a wall.

He could not help it. He started chuckling.

She's adorable, he thought to himself.

"What's gotten into her?" Steve asked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe Nat overworked her."

Tony laughed, "Nah. Probably because there's a strange man in the room."

Stephen grinned, but then ran that statement through his head again. He could not think of anything. That woman was a mystery, that's for sure.

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 5

TW: Slight mention of violence

Words Count: 1.8k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 6

You wake up the next morning feeling slightly sore from having curled yourself up on the small couch. You find the bed’s already empty and when you enter the bathroom, the fresh smell of body wash still lingers which means he’s already showered and you assume he’s already gone to work by now.

You shower and make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. Once you’re done, you set yourself to clean the house though there isn’t much to do since Mrs. Lee always keeps it sparkly clean. You pass by Jimin’s study room but has no idea why your feet stops in front of it.

You’re very curious. You had been in the study room once but at the time you didn’t have the chance to look around or see the details because you’re busy being confronted by Jimin and Taehyung. But you’re told that the room is off limits and you can only enter if you’re called upon by Jimin so you just stood in front of the door.

When you tear your eyes away, your attention is taken by the painting beside the door you didn’t notice before. Most of the walls on the corridors and hallways in Jimin’s house are filled with arts and exclusive paintings. Sometimes you feel like you live in an art gallery. Jimin does have excellent taste in artworks though. He has a range of paintings from classic arts to modern contemporary paintings and you find yourself studying each of them.

You’ve always had a passion in art ever since you were young. You wanted to pursue it in a more professional way, dreaming to take a degree in it but never had the opportunity to nor the chance, giving the way you’ve been in financial burden since forever. You don’t have much happiness growing up, but you do remember keeping small money from your daily wages in your locker in classroom before you have to give the rest to your parents or stolen by your brother, gathering it little by little for you to buy an art book and then a set of brushes, and then water colours until your brother found out about it and didn’t waste another breath before burning it all away.

You smile sadly then look down at your hands, missing the way the brushes feel in your hands, ready to create anything that you want. Perhaps the only thing you have control over in your life. Arts are fascinating, you think. You love the way you can immerse yourself while doing it, taking your minds off anything. It’s almost therapeutic.

Suddenly, you straighten up. Perhaps now that you’re finally away from your abusive brother, from your old life, maybe you can start again with arts and paintings. You might not have a husband that loves you back, but at least he doesn’t beat you half dead everyday. You’re thankful enough for that blessing in your life so you make a small promise to repay him in any way you could. You smile, thinking that you finally have a control over your own life.

The excitement quickly dampens when you remember that you don’t have money. You can’t really ask from Jimin, do you..? You don’t even have anything that you own that can be sold off.

Jimin’s been keeping you in his house so much, we thought we’d never see you. Jin’s words suddenly echoes in your mind.

He’s right, you think. You can’t just stay cooped up in the house forever. You’re practically only leeching off Jimin. You have to go out and find some real job. It’s also about time to start paying his debt back off. Your head spins slightly, thinking how long until you’d be able to pay the debt back off. Taehyung did mention the debt is practically waived now. Still, you don’t think it’s right.

Taking a deep breath, you set off downstairs. There’s a small room which is more like a library due to the rows and rows of books on the shelves, filling the walls of the room at the end of the hallway which you remember seeing a computer placed on a table at the corner. You quickly went there, fires up the computer and begin your job hunting session.

You don’t realise it’s already evening when you hear the sound of the front door opening. Your heart drops, realising you haven’t made any preparation for Jimin’s dinner. You quickly rush off towards the front door and sees Jimin, looking handsome as always in his working attire.

Except something seems off with him.

His hair slightly disheveled, he looks like he put on his shirt after sweating with some parts sticking to his body, his plump lips looking thicker than usual as if he’d just finished a make out session and he smells.. like sex.

It suddenly dawns to you that he must’ve had sex with another woman behind your back. That hit you like a truck. You feel a stabbing pain in your chest and you struggle to fight the urge to clench your chest, wondering how an emotional feeling could give you a pain that feels so.. physical.

“I told you not to fucking keep on standing there and stares like a creep!” He snaps.

“Sorry.” You feel the tear dropping before you could even process it.

“Stop apologising and just do things right.” He says, irritated. “What’s wrong with you?!” He finally take notice your watering eyes.

What is wrong with you exactly? You wipe it with the back of your hand immediately. “N-nothing.” You clear your throat, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Do you want to eat? I made some kimchi jigae and other dishes.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and just regards you. “Let me shower first.” He says finally.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to the kitchen and swiftly prepares for his meal. He comes down after a while, his hair slightly wet and you note how he smells so good. You notice he has this manly scent yet it’s still soft to your nose.

“You don’t really have to act the perfect wife. There’s no one here but us.” He says as he takes his seat.

“I’m so-“ You halt, his words telling you to stop apologising comes to your mind. “I- I want to do it.”

He doesn’t say anything to that and an uncomfortable silence fills the air.

“Won’t you sit down instead of just hovering around?! For fuck’s sake,” he barks and you jump. You take a seat immediately, not wanting to prolong his anger and watch him eat. You like watching people eat something that you cook, as creepy as it may sound.

Silence fills the air again and only the sound of his cutleries and the plate clinking are heard. For a moment, you consider telling him that you have a job interview tomorrow but then decided against it. He might not be interested to know about it.

“Have you eaten?” He asks after a while.

You shake your head. “Don’t feel like it.” You wanted to eat with him because it’s been so long since you’ve had company. Eating alone doesn’t give you much appetite. But now that you find out he’s been cheating, you suddenly don’t feel hungry anymore.

You sigh. Stop it, you scold yourself.

He doesn’t owe you fidelity. After all, everything’s just temporary.

“Sit down and eat. You’re skin and bones. And you need to eat to recover quickly.”

You really don’t feel like eating but you do know not to go against his words. So you quickly reach for a plate and fills it with very small portions of rice and dishes. Luckily he doesn’t comment on that.

“You don’t really have to cook all these side dishes. Are you even well enough to do all these?” He grunts.

“I-“

“Simple ones would do. You don’t really have to go overboard.”

“I’m sorry..” You say softly and when he gives you a look, you almost want to apologise again before stopping yourself, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He continues to eat in silence but then you notice him eating most of the dishes you made and you almost want to forgive him for sleeping with another woman.

“Why didn’t you sleep on the bed last night?” He asks, looking straight at you and you freeze.

You swallow, unable to find the right words to answer him.

“What? You’re afraid I might do something to you? Don’t worry.. I’ve no interest in terrified little lambs.” He smirks.

He’s a total psycho.

Yet you can’t help yourself. “No.. it’s not like that.. I know you’re not that type of person..” He frowns when you say that. “I- I just thought you might not like it. I don’t want to anger you.”

For a split second, you thought you saw his gaze softens slightly. “What kind of person do you think I am then?”

Huh? You blink rapidly several times, somehow taken off guard that he caught that part of your words. Inhaling deeply, you say, “I- I don’t know for sure.. but I know you’re not a bad person.”

At that, he suddenly stands, approaches you and before you know it his fingers grip your chin roughly, making you whimper in pain. “No babe.. That means you don’t know me well enough.. yet.” He smiles, a very sinister smile that sends shiver running down your spine.

He leaves before you could process anything, leaving nothing but lingering pain and your heart pounding fiercely.

When you enter your bedroom that, you expect to see Jimin inside but he wasn’t so he must’ve been in his study room. You’re already feeling sleepy yet you have no idea why but you feel like you have to wait for him.

Just to make sure he’s really okay with you sleeping here. He might not strangle you yesterday but.. there’s no telling so you don’t want to take the risk.

But your eyes are already giving out on you and you feel like you’re going to pass out into oblivion soon. You fell asleep like that then, curled up on the edge of the bed.

You woke up the next morning and the bed’s already empty but you don’t wonder about that. Instead, you vaguely remember falling asleep when you lay on the bed waiting for Jimin but you’re now properly tucked in the bed. Your heartbeat quickens at the possibility that Jimin had moved you.

You quickly put the images away from your mind though. You probably tuck yourself in somewhere in the middle of the night while half asleep. Though, you’re more than ninety percent sure Jimin slept in the same bed as you as his side of the bed wasn’t made. You don’t want to dwell in that thought.

Link to Chapter 6

Posted on 210405 9:00PM

[achubbydumpling]

Consider this: slightly chubby office worker bucky and lean, muscular steve who has a huge crush on him.

They work in the same department so Steve is always sneaking him food and rubbing his belly for him. Poor bucky keeps outgrowing his shirts and his pants barely go over his ass anymore but he doesn't wanna stop.

Bucky finally has to work from home when he gets too big for his office chair and his belly is almost constantly hanging out. All thanks to steve, of course.

Hello! I'm sorry for only answering this now, buuuuut this ask made me think of a very specific scenario for some reason? So, I hope you'll enjoy reading this... imagine? ficlet? this is neither edited nor proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes

Alright, I immediately jumped to Bucky working from home because he's outgrown his office chair. Maybe he hit the weight limit, maybe he's just gotten too wide to comfortably fit between the arm rests. Maybe he’s a gainer in this? In any case, he applies to work from home, and they grant him the request (anything to facilitate the kink, right? :D)

Rating: Mature Words: 1638 Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Stuffing, Belly Kink, nicknames (pig), allusions to masturbation, mutual pining, maybe slight dub-con (Bucky doesn't know he's unmuted and Steve doesn't tell him right away)

The only requirement is that he has to be "on call" the entire workday. So, the next week on Monday Bucky sits down at his desk at home and logs in to the program his company makes him use for those calls.

And of course Steve picks up. The guy Bucky has had a not so subtle crush on since basically his first day. The blue eyed, blond haired subject of all of Bucky’s dreams, who is also the guy that Bucky has been eating his weight in junk over, because Steve keeps bringing in baked goods and Bucky can never say no to Steve.

On the other end of the call Steve is nervously chewing on his pencil until he finally hears Bucky’s warm voice say “Good morning.” A huge grin appears on his face without him wanting it to, but this is Bucky. So, of course he’s grinning like a maniac.

Bucky is just… Steve had tried to explain it to Nat once, but all he’d gotten out was a stupid “wow”, while grinning the same way he was right now. So, maybe he had a bit of an office crush, it’s normal when you spend 8h a day together, right? Bucky’s video feed is off and Steve is glad he didn’t stupidly turn his own camera on. He was debating it while he waited for Bucky’s call.

“So, do I just do my work, while I stay on this call or…?” Bucky asks when Steve didn’t respond. Steve scrambles out of his daydreams and nods. Then he remembers to actually say “Yes.”

“Alright,” was all that Bucky said and then the little red mute symbol pops up. Steve groans and rubs his hands over his face to get rid of that stupid smile.

“What’s up?” Bucky chimes back in, when Steve yelps in surprise, he adds, “you didn’t mute yourself. I could hear you… being annoyed, I think.”

“Sorry, Mondays.”

“Yeah,” Steve hears something crunching, “though my day has actually been pretty good so far.”

“Are you eating breakfast right now?” Steve looks at the clock—9:03 am.

“Nah, post-breakfast snack. I was craving something crunchy like those pig's ears you brought in on Friday.”

“That just sounds disgusting. Just call it a palm heart or a palmier.” Steve said the name of the pastry in a French accent in an effort to make Bucky laugh and when he did, his heart fluttered with a burst of warmth.

“Well, I’m having some cereal to make up for not having any pastries around.”

“Some?” Steve asked. He sobered quickly at the mention of what Bucky was actually eating, he hated how badly he was hiding his excitement at hearing what Bucky was eating. He’d been “subtly” pushing food on him since Bucky had first started working at the office. Steve doesn’t know a lot about flirting, but providing food seemed like a natural place to start.

Except he’s been stuck there for close to a year now. Every day he’d promise himself to finally ask Bucky out when he brings him one of the pastries, he brought in from that bakery on his way to the office, but when he’s actually looking at Bucky’s face, that lights up when he sees the sugary treat, Steve can never work up the courage and just slinks back to his own desk. And now Bucky wasn’t even in the office anymore.

Because you’ve fattened him up too much, a traitorous voice whispers in the back of Steve’s mind. It not like Steve was forcing Bucky to eat what he brought in, but all those treats right there in the break room surely weren’t helping with Bucky’s expanding waistline. Or those lunches they started taking together, where Steve always suggested they go out to eat instead of sharing a packed lunch in the break room. So, yeah, Steve wasn’t really at fault. Then why did he feel so goddamned proud whenever he saw Bucky’s shirts getting too small and the armrests on his chair digging into his plush sides?

Steve snaps back to reality when Bucky starts talking again.

“Just a bowl-full. Well, this is my second bowl, but cereal is pretty much mostly air, right?” They talk (argue) about what’s the best cereal after that, then what Bucky had for breakfast and then they somehow spend the entire morning talking like Bucky was still in the office and not all the way across town. Bucky refills his bowl twice before lunch rolls around at noon.

“Well, I’ll see you after lunch.” Steve reluctantly leaves his desk.

“I’ll be here!” Bucky calls before Steve takes of his headphones and heads into the breakroom to scarf down his lunch. He knows Bucky will probably only get back on the call once he has to work, but some small part of Steve hopes that if he eats fast enough he’ll get to spend at least part of his break chatting with Bucky.

When he makes his way back to his desk, Steve pops his headphones back on, plops down on his chair and immediately freezes at what he’s hearing. Bucky isn’t muted. Steve is listening to Bucky eat some kind of pasta dish, a very saucy pasta dish from the noises he can hear every time Bucky takes a bite and sucks the spaghettis he missed into his mouth. This is Steve’s personal hell, he thinks, it can’t get any worse than this.

Steve is just about to tell Bucky he’s unmuted when he hears him say, unmistakably, “Fucking pig.” It can get worse.

“Such a fat fucking pig.” Bucky muffles his moan with another mouthful of food. He must be close to finishing his food Steve thinks, then he blushes at realising he knows what Bucky sounds like when he’s getting full.

Bucky’s headphones must be lying on the desk, because they pick up the slide of skin on skin perfectly and Steve leans closer to his monitor even though there isn’t an image. He presses his hands over his headphones to make sure he hears all the little sounds Bucky is making and then he jolts back when Bucky burps loudly.

Steve’s eyes scan the office to make sure no one saw him jumping around on his chair like a scaredy cat, but no one is around. No one is around to see Steve listen very intently to his co-worker eating lunch. Stuffing himself.— Brain.Steve scolds himself, but then Bucky moans again and Steve can’t help but scoot his chair closer. One, to hide his growing erection and two, because logic has left his brain and he needs to get closer to hear better apparently. Steve turns up the volume and then takes his headphones off to make sure it’s no so loud that anyone walking by could hear the sound.

“Fuck, so good,” Bucky groans and Steve can hear his cutlery cluttering onto the desk. He can hear clothes rustling and suddenly the sound of Bucky rubbing his hands over the taut skin of his belly is back. It overtakes the connection for a long moment, that and Bucky’s shallow breathing.

“Best penne and pizza? Yeah, I can believe that.” Steve can hear Bucky’s chair groaning under him. Three suffering clicks from the chair and another pained belch from Bucky.

“If you keep eating like this you’re gonna get fat, Barnes.” Bucky chuckles to himself, “well, fatter.” Bucky exhales heavily, Steve can hear him shift again and his breathing gets heavier.

“Only thing missing is dessert. That’d make a real glutton outta me, not just overeating at lunch, but eating more sugar after,” Steve hears the familiar sound of Bucky popping his button to get comfortable, but Bucky doesn’t stop there, Steve hears the zipper being pulled down too. Steve’s heart skips a beat. Is he gonna—

“Get some feeder to bring it to me, some rich chocolate cake. No, ah, those little cake pops, that— that Steve brought in.” Steve holds his breath when he hears his own name in Bucky’s voice, the emphasis Bucky puts on his name.

“Steve—” He hears a bottle cap being snapped open. Ok, nope, this is too far, Steve decides and reaches for the mouse.

“Oh, my God, Bucky. You’re unmuted!” Steve just about shouts into the microphone. He immediately hears something clatter to the floor and then Bucky swearing.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I was just— This isn’t what it looks like. I’m— I was— How long were you listening?” The tips of Steve’s ears are burning and the blush is working it’s way down over Steve’s face.

“A few— just a bit. You said my name.” Steve adds, hopeful, even though Bucky was probably more worried about his co-worker almost catching him jerking off. Listening to him jerk off.

“Great, are we going straight to HR or is tomorrow fine?” Bucky asked resigned.

“How about dinner?” Steve didn’t know where he plucked the courage from, but when Bucky didn’t answer right away whatever ounce of courage had possessed him left just as quickly.

“I’m sorry—"

“No. No, yeah, that’s fine. Great! That sounds good.” Bucky floundered a bit but Steve couldn’t wipe that grin of his face again.

“Tonight?” Bucky added.

“It’s a date.”

[thegreatobsesso]

A longer bit feat.: Callie and Simon angst. :)

Talking with @drippingmoon got me thinking of some cornerstone scenes in the enemies-to-friends slow-burn I do with these two idiots and this one, I think, stands out as the dead-center point, so I’m gonna not second-guess myself and just post it. 🥴

Tagging @thelaughingstag too! (I remembered!)

Context: Callie broke into Delaney to steal an ancient magical artifact and, believing she meant nothing but harm, Simon stopped her. But while waiting for the cops to come and drag her back to prison, Simon asks her to just tell him the truth, once and for all. Callie agrees to let him read her mind all the way back to the beginning, thinking she’s got nothing left to live for. Simon gets hit with a truckload of tragic backstory he wasn’t prepared for and is asked to follow them back to Downing Bay, the prison she’s being held in.

They’re still mentally connected, even after Simon has let go. He can hear her, and she can hear him too, which definitely isn’t normal.

Word count: 3,200

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failure. failure. failure

She wasn’t even doing this on purpose and it wasn’t just the word reverberating through his skull.

More like a full-bodied feeling flooding his consciousness as he left Delaney, a steady stream of self-hatred punctuated only by expletives.

Stop, he begged her.

i can’t, you stop listening

I can’t.

She laughed, out loud in her cell. He heard it and felt it, over the miles that separated them, the ocean and metal and glass.

He’d overextended; that’s what caused this. It took him awhile to put it together because he’d been so upset - maybe even been in a mild state of shock, in retrospect - and he spent a lifetime being so careful with his powers that he’d never done it before to know what it was like.

And so that was bad, yes, but come on. How much longer could it last?

He was stepping onto the boat to Downing Bay when the pain started - hers, and not the torrent of existential agony he was struggling to adjust to but pain, physical and substantial.

What’s happening? he tried to ask, but it got lost - she could barely think, suddenly, let alone focus on sending him mental telegrams.

The cluster of metal buildings hovered threateningly on the horizon, and as they got closer, minds inside got louder, almost drowning Callie out. He wanted to tell them to turn around and take him away; the claustrophobia was overwhelming, the collective sense of being trapped.

The boat brought them underneath the smallest building; a scorched sign read Diagnostics in block letters with an arrow pointing up. What might’ve once been a loading dock was sectioned off with caution tape and hanging sadly down into the water, barely still attached to the rest of the infrastructure. They laid a make-shift bridge between the boat and platform to walk across.

Once inside, they asked him to empty his pockets and leave all his belongings in a small box.

“This stays with me,” he said, holding his Headmaster’s key, bronze and solid, in the palm of his hand.

“No, sir,” said the tired corrections officer, unaware of who he was. “All belongings.” She shook the plastic container for emphasis, rattling the rest of his stuff around.

“I’m the headmaster of Delaney of School for Magicians,” he said. “This is a master key and it doesn’t leave my neck. If you need to call your superiors about it, please do it, but I won’t leave it here.”

A few minutes later, he put the chain back around his neck, dropped the key down inside his shirt, and was escorted inside.

“No one’s suppressed me yet,” he said to one of prison officers. He waited until the last second; surely they knew their own duties better than he did. He didn’t wanna insult anyone, but they hadn’t done it and they were bringing him though thick, reinforced doors to the warden’s office and if not now, when?

“We’ve not been asked to, sir. This way.”

The warden smiled when Simon entered his office, waved everyone else away. He introduced himself as Warden Prescott and extended his hand - it was thin and cold when Simon shook it, despite the muggy warmth.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said. “How fares your school?”

“It’s seen worse. It looks like she hit this place harder, to be honest.”

The warden smiled, and Simon caught an image of a collection, varying people with differing characteristics on display in tiny boxes, one of them out of place. “Yes, she put on quite a show on her way out. Destroyed all our boats and did a significant amount of superficial damage, but nothing structural, thankfully.”

Of course not - living her memories alongside her showed him she made sure she didn’t hurt anyone, only crippled their ability to pursue her.

It was too warm in here and he wondered how the warden could be so buttoned up in thick polyester when he had to unbutton his own light jacket.

“A hearing will take place tomorrow morning and your presence will be required,” he began. “I suspect I know at least  part of the reason why. News reached my ears that you behaved quite badly.” He made a tsk-tsk sound and shook his head at Simon like he was a naughty child.

“I did what I did,” he said flatly. “I shouldn’t have read her mind, and I accept the consequences for it, whatever they’ll be.”

“Oh, I meant absolutely no disrespect,” the warden said. “The opposite, in fact. I daresay if I had your powers, I’d like nothing more than to take a stroll through that mind of hers. She’s an interesting one. The fact that you did so might work to our advantage, in fact. You see, we’re in a bit of a bind with all this. May I speak plainly?”

“I wish you would,” he said. The warden was carrying his collection of dolls in his mind, all unique and valuable and distinctly dehumanized, and Callie’s thoughts were still flowing like a steady IV drip, making him feel irritable and short.

“Well, Mister Bennett, the facts are as such: we’ve got a limited testimony from you that the authorities will need expanded upon, that says you’ve seen the original crime in the first person, and your account differs wildly from the one she’s given. There are additional crimes stacked up past that - her escape from prison and attempted theft of an undisclosed item from your school. And the world wants to know how an infamous killer managed to become the first person in history to escape Downing Bay.”

“It’s a valid question for them to ask.”

“With an undesirable answer. But I think you’re in pain, Mister Bennett. Do you need a doctor?”

He was, but it wasn’t his own injuries that made wince.

“It’s her,” he groaned. “You’re hurting her, what are you doing?”

The warden sighed. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

He took Simon down the hall, into a sterile room filled with recording equipment and a solid wall of glass. On the other side of the it, Callie. She sat a bare table in prison scrubs, hands cuffed to its surface. IVs were inserted in both her arms, the needles taped down, liquid flowing from bags hanging behind her. The metal collar around her neck flashed blips of red, yellow and green, reminding him absurdly of a Christmas tree.

She bit her lip and shuffled restlessly, an involuntary response to the pain she was trying to ignore.

“You’ve got to stop this,” he said.

“To be fair, this isn’t what diagnostics usually looks like,” the warden said while he swallowed down a wave of sickness. “Typically, we focus on finding a long-term suppressive solution that both nullifies abilities and has minimal side effects for the prisoner. We are, unfortunately, in disaster minimization mode rather than long-term maintenance with your friend here.”

This was the strain being put on her body - the combination of every drug known to medicine that could hold back the expression of magic for any amount of time at all. “She’s not my friend,” he muttered. “Isn’t this unethical?”

“Should we allow all her power to rush back in so she can kill my people and escape again?”

“She’s not killing anyone,” Simon said with certainty.

“That’s not what she said a few hours ago,” the warden recalled. “We had no less than five guards trying to process her and she threatened their lives.”

Dammit. “What we you doing to her?”

“Attempting to place her segregation.”

He resisted the urge to groan in frustration, to punch the glass in front of him. “She didn’t mean it,” he muttered, not relishing the job of being her translator. “She’s terrified of solitary confinement, she just didn’t wanna go.”

“That’s unfortunate, given that we can’t very well place her back into general population. This is all that’s left, a quarantine unit, meant for contagious disease.”

On the other side of the glass, Callie squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head. A fresh wave of pain ran over him too.

how much longer, how much more?

“How long can you keep this up, these stop-gap measures? Surely they won’t work forever.”

Warden Prescott raised his eyebrows. “These measures aren’t even working very well, Mister Bennett. I daresay if she wanted to, she could be gone before nightfall. I’m afraid she’s only here at her pleasure.”

Pleasure? He looked back at her in the next room, her face contorted. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” Warden Prescott said, with a small smile. “We’re in the dark here, fumbling through uncharted territory without a map. She’s got my best techs feeling like children when they try to interpret the results of all this treatment. She’s a thing that isn’t supposed to exist: a hybrid. Focused magic and Eclectic, all at once.”

The implications of the warden’s words began to stack up in his already overtaxed mind and part of him thought, ridiculously, of a vacation. Of sitting on a beach with a book getting a suntan, drinking something with a slice of pineapple on the rim, smoking a cigarette or two or fifty - of not having a care in the world, for just a little while.

A hybrid, then. Focused and Eclectic.

He’d walked through her life with her and even she didn’t understand that, not really, not in such terms. She, and everyone else who knew what she’d done to Peter, had thought of it like an acquisition of new powers; not a fundamental genetic change.

Did Riley know this? Riley, who gathered Callie’s DNA and did extensive testing on it, who still had it?

“Has anybody been in touch with the family?” he asked, unwilling to explain why he was asking.

“I know someone’s reached out,” the warden said. “I don’t believe there was any reply.”

No, he supposed not. Riley would want nothing to do with any of this. Still, she had to be sweating, didn’t she? How could she know Callie still held up her end of their deal?

“I wonder,” Warden Prescott drawled, “if your trip through her mind was quite so extensive that if she were back inside your school, right now, you’d trust her not to hurt anyone.”

“It was,” he said. “And I would.”

He couldn’t imagine this would be easy for anyone else to swallow. He certainly wouldn’t believe it himself without first-hand insight. “I want to talk to her.”

The warden nodded his assent at the guards lining the wall.

“As I said, everyone wants to know how she managed to escape,” he said, walking Simon around to the entrance of the adjacent room that held Callie. “The thing I’m most curious about it why she even waited so long to do it. Is that something you know, from your jaunt through her mind?”

“Yes.”

“Are you inclined to share?”

He decided earlier, definitively, that he didn’t like the warden: the way he looked at his inmates like specimens, pinned inside a case. “No,” he said.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “Although you might be asked tomorrow, by someone more powerful than me, in a much more formal capacity. We’ll be leaning on your expertise considerably to entangle that mind of hers.” He shook his head in admiration. “The unsuppressable Callie Ray.”

“I wouldn’t toss that around,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

The guard undid a stack of locks on the quarantine room door. “I don’t want her hearing it,” he said as they pushed the door open. “She’ll like it too much.”

—

Little black cameras dotted the corners of the room; he knew the warden would be listening on the other side of the glass where’d they’d just come from, and he was certain they were being recorded too.

She lifted her head, smirked at the sight of him. “I’d say hello,” she said, her voice scratchy. “But it’s like I never left you, isn’t it?”

She looked awful. Her red-rimmed eyes matched her hair; one was still swollen, decorated in bruises. “I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this.” He gestured between his head and hers.

he just says it, just like that

“Did you get a good spanking for it? I’m sure nobody expected that from their golden boy.”

Her words were hollow to him now; they washed over him uselessly and left him thoroughly unimpressed. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite her at the steel table, mirroring her position with his hands folded in front of him, except for the absence of cuffs, obviously.

We could talk like this, he said, if you don’t want them to listen.

A jumbled negative reply came across their connection. He nodded.

“There’s a whole team of people on the other side of the door, trying to figure out the best ways to keep your magic suppressed on a minute-to-minute basis,” he said.

“Can you believe it?” She tried for a smile, but it was poorly constructed. “All this for little old me.”

“Well, you’ve convinced the world you’re a dangerous monster and now you’re being treated like one. You did this to yourself.”

“Did you hear me complaining?”

Another wave of gnawing pain; she was sweating, her jumpsuit damp in the armpits. It hit him too, surely just a fraction of what it felt like for her, and he’d already had enough.

“Just tell them,” he said. “Tell them what I know, that it was an accident from the start and you don’t wanna hurt anyone else, and they might let up.”

“I don’t want them to,” she said, voice strained, hanging onto composure by a thread. “I like the pain.”

if I’m in pain I’m getting what I deserve I don’t have to feel guilty

He’d never felt a mind twisted up into knots like this, how did it get this way?

“Is that why you’re still here?” he asked. He looked toward the glass where he knew Warden Prescott was still standing, watching and listening. “They know you’re letting this happen. That if you wanted to, you could stop it.”

She blinked; a powerful emptiness surged up inside her. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question - she was interested in an answer if he had one, but he didn’t. He lived her life alongside her in a compressed whirlwind of tightly-packed failures and she had no family to take her in, Delaney certainly wouldn’t have her, there were no relationships, no friends…

He pulled back; it hurt to be near.

“Just because you say you’re not gonna try to escape again…” He fumbled, trying to lay out the mess. “They still can’t hold you on your word, Callie. You’ve got the public frightened that Downing Bay can’t hold you and the authorities are scared you’re gonna prove it.”

She nodded and winced; something crossed her mind too quickly for him to get a good look. “What are they gonna do to me?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think they do either.”

“Why don’t they just kill me?”

The way she said these things - it was infuriating. “They can’t just execute someone because they don’t know what else to do with them.” He narrowed his eyes like it might help him see her clearer. “Is that what you want? To die?”

She rolled it around in her head. “Not really,” she shrugged. “But I don’t really wanna live either.”

Hopelessness emanated from her; he felt her future the way she saw it, a vast, meaningless chasm of nothing. It made him want to scream.

“Don’t,” she snarled, her awareness of their connection snapping to life. “Don’t you feel sorry for me, you jackass. I don’t want your pity, I’d rather you spit in my eye.”

“I can’t help it,” he groaned. “You sit there acting like this while… it’s, it’s like two different radio stations blasting into each of my ears, I can’t think.”

She swallowed thickly, like she was nauseous. “Do you wanna know exactly how much sympathy I have for you right now?”

“No.”

“Zero,” she said anyway. “Nobody made you drill yourself your own personal pipeline into my brain.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“Oh, so sad,” she pouted, turning her bottom lip out. “You made your first mistake. Feels like shit, doesn’t it?”

he’ll tell everybody, then everyone will know how stupid, how useless, how embarrassing, and he’s listening to you RIGHT NOW, he knows it all, i wish i WAS dead so i didn’t have to, would be easier than this-

“You let me think you did it on purpose,” he bit out, too overwhelmed to hold it back. “You let me think the absolute worst of you.”

“The worst of me is the truth, the shit you know now.”

“No, it’s not. What you are is not worse than a cold-blooded killer, a, a liar, somebody I could spend the rest of my life feeling like a fool for letting in, how do you justify doing that to me?”

She shrugged, blinked slowly, helplessly, like she couldn’t believe she had to put words to something so simple. “I… the damage was done.”

He scoffed - he couldn’t help it. “It wasn’t. There was a lot more damage left to do, and you did it. You did it all.”

Anger, fresh and bitter, burned through their connection.

i was trying to fix it if you would’ve just walked away none of this would be happening i could have made it go away-

“At what cost?” he asked. It would sound like a non sequitur to everyone listening but he didn’t care. “Even if the orblex could do what you were planning, you can’t possibly predict how it would’ve worked. Did you think it would just drop you off on Christmas twelve years ago and let you start again? No one knows how Time magic works and you wanted to just unleash it. For all you know you could have ripped the world apart.”

Disbelief. how could he say something like that?

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked. A crack in her voice - a tear springing from her eye that hadn’t been there a moment before, rolling down her cheek. “You wouldn’t take that risk, Bennett? To bring him back?”

He wanted to say no, but it got stuck in his throat. She still grieved for him, as hard as he ever did, and it annihilated the space between them, blurred the final lines.

He pushed his chair back and got up - he needed a second. Not to be looking at her, not to be sharing feelings.

“Where are you going?”

are you leaving? don’t leave

He clasped his hands behind his head, breathed in and out, shut his eyes.

say something say something say something say something-

“There’s gonna be a hearing tomorrow,” he said, cutting off the flood of her thoughts she couldn’t control. “Or, not a hearing. A discussion, I guess.”

He turned to face her again; she was listening with rapt attention. She hadn’t been told yet.

“They’re gonna talk about whether there’s any kind of precedent they can fall back on for this, anything at all. I don’t know if they want me there as a witness or a human lie detector, but they asked me to stay for it and I’m staying. After that, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see you again, maybe I won’t. I have to think this-”

He gestured to the space between their heads again, at a loss for what to call it. “This’ll fade with time and distance. It’ll have to. It can’t stay forever.”

It couldn’t, could it?

[togreblog]

At Home Among the Stars

Nessian Fic - Chapter 1

I recently found out that the word for those insane little pushes in your mind to do stupid things are called intrusive thoughts. I get this feeling sometimes and ever since I finished ACOWAR and threw myself deep into the Nessian fanfic, I have wondered if Nesta ever had this little intrusive thought... This is how I see it playing out, when she is too drunk on faerie wine to stop herself and Cassian has to save her. Before long it becomes their little game.

Please go like it on Ao3

Words:  1658

- - -

The first time Nesta did it was at a Starfall party. Not her first one since becoming a fae, but the first she had felt like celebrating. And she had had too much to drink.

As a human, she had never had the opportunity to explore the elusive limit: the tipping point between joy and madness. Not that it would have mattered, this fae body... her fae body, responded to everything differently and from her limited experiences, she knew the alcohol here was different too.

The feeling of being drunk was new to Nesta. The way her thoughts danced in spiralling patterns she couldn't follow. before long, she found herself moving along the familiar path up to the roof as if her fae body craved the night air. She hated that she might actually be at home in this court, but she still marvelled at her instincts as the relief of being away from the bright lights and twirling dancers hit her.

She took a deep breath of the cold, night air and her thoughts cleared.

The majority of the stars had passed over and only a few partygoers remained outside, conversing in little clusters. Nesta looked at them and her heart ached a little at her loneliness. On the dancefloor, it didn't matter who you were, there was always a steady stream of strangers ready to whisk you away. Nesta had danced each dance with a new partner, their faces (some more human-looking than others) appeared and blurred together in her mind and she was forced to once again draw the cold, night air deep into her lungs, the resulting shiver seemed to shake the images from her mind leaving it clear once more.

She took in her surroundings, trying to ground herself in reality. At first glance, it seemed that each of the little groups were just taking in the final few stars smattering the sky overhead, but Nesta looked closer, she wanted to take in every detail of this night, finally free of all her burdens (even if she wasn't entirely sure she would remember it in the morning). It didn't take her long to decide that there were 3 reasons to be up on the roof. The first was to escape the party, this justified the presence of those still nursing drinks, a scattering of empty bottles around them and a cache of full ones nearby, the draw of free alcohol enough to lure them to the party, but not to entice them to remain downstairs and participate fully in the socialising. There were a few groups like this. The second reason was respite from the party, these patrons were taking the opportunity to swap alcohol for water and sit cradling their heads in their hands, far from the lilting music still drifting up the staircase. The final reason was privacy, the couples deep in whispered conversations, or, much to Nesta's shock and disgust, couples engaging their mouths in other ways. Nesta chided herself for allowing her human ideas about modesty to make her harsh and judgmental, it was yet another thing that was different, she needed to get used to it, she was trying to get used to it, maybe she could even... embrace it. She stopped those thoughts dead in their tracks, taking another deep breath of cold, night air deep into her lungs, to once again clear her head. Faerie wine, much like faeries themselves, was delicious and dangerous.

Her eyes were flitting about the rooftop trying to keep from looking at any of the couples in particular when they caught on a pair of wings. Three pairs, in fact, interspersed by smaller female figures. Stood further out onto the roof than where she had stopped near the door, they truly were watching the last few stars wend their way across the sky, the Night Court incarnate. She felt some stardust land on her cheek and as she stared at those beautiful wings, a faint glow clouding the corner of her vision, one thought filled her empty mind. Her alcohol addled brain couldn't quite form the words, there was only the overwhelming feeling that she wanted to know what it was to be a star, flying alone, but together above the world but not quite in it: powerful and delicate. Blissfully inebriated, the stars sang to her that no one could truly understand how she felt in this world, except maybe them. The alcohol in her system became a dam holding back logic, allowing the thought to become all-consuming. The call of the stars grew louder and louder and Nesta turned her gaze towards them.

As if feeling the loss of her gaze upon him, Cassian turned and watched as Nesta looked towards the star and without warning, began to run full speed towards the edge of the roof.

Rhys had been in the middle of talking to him, so when he turned away from the conversation mid-sentence, they all looked with him. They stared confused as Nesta ran towards the edge of the roof. She was now level with them and she wasn't slowing down. Everyone was transfixed. Two heartbeats passed. Thump. 'She's not slowing down.' Thump. 'Run.' Cassian shot after her. She was now closer to the edge than he was, but he was faster. His arm wrapped around her waist just as she launched herself into the sky, an arm outstretched towards the stars. He loosed a sigh of relief at having her in his arms a split second before his body hit hers and he realised their combined momentum would carry them over the edge. He held her flush to him, the force of his tackle causing them to tumble through the open air as they fell. Two heartbeats passed. Thump. 'Shit, I tackled Nesta off the roof.' Thump. 'Fly.' The part of his brain that had trained as a warrior for hundreds of years before this mortal girl had even been conceived took those two heartbeats to click into place. He calculated the timing and out his wings snapped, at the perfect moment in their tumbling to catch the wind and level them out.

Nesta could feel the stars getting closer, if she just ran hard enough, jumped high enough, they would catch her and take her with them, to the place where wandering things could rest. She was so tired, she wanted to rest, but she needed to run. As she neared the edge she reached for the stars, she was weightless, she would make it.

An anchor clamped around her and she was being pulled down. The wind rushed passed her as she fell and she shut her eyes against it. Her awareness slowly returned to her after the initial shock. It wasn't the same feeling as falling through the depthless waters of the cauldron, unlike the water that pressed in, the air tore at her. She wished it would tear the anchor from her and let her soar with the stars. There was a jolt and she thought that the stars had answered her, as she began to come free. The arm, that's what it was, tightened around her to prevent her from escaping. No, not escaping, but it was pulling her upwards, stopping her from falling. The weight was not an anchor at all, but the weight of another person. The air stopped rushing past them and a sob ripped through her as she was finally able to take another deep breath. This time though, her head was clear, the adrenaline wiping away the fog of alcohol. Dangling from in her saviour's arms, she could only hear the leathery wings beating behind her as they carried her up towards the stars.

Only to bank left and set her back down on top of the roof.

"I just wanted to touch the stars," she said quietly before the warm weight at her back stepped away and gently helped her as she sagged to her knees.

Nesta let her eyes remain closed, mourning the loss of that dream. Tomorrow night the stars would be gone and there would be no one to lead her home. She would never get to feel the freedom of soaring over the world. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

It took her a moment to process the voices as they drew near.

"I had her by the waist. I almost dropped her." Cassian, she knew that voice was Cassian.

"The impact of you grabbing her could have done some damage, I'll send for a healer. I take it you want a strong drink ?" Practicality, that was Rhys.

"Guess the party is over." Mor... Nesta blocked that voice out.

The various comments continued. Azriel, Amren, Feyre. Until her brain was able to pick up on a faint sobbing.

Elain.

Nesta's eyes shot open. Elain was instantly on her knees facing Nesta. Feyre approached more cautiously and looked like she was going to try to embrace Nesta, but changed her course to kneel next to Elain instead. She rested a hand lightly on Nesta's arm, the other reaching around Elain to steady the girl who was trying desperately to hide her sobbing, only leading to unsteady breathing.

None of them seemed to know what to say for a long while, before Feyre, of course, it was Feyre, always taking the lead, said "if you aren't happy here, there are only places you can live.”

[kirsten-is-writing]

Story Of Us - chapter two

Enjoy! 

Heart pounding in her throat, Khloe watches as the elevator doors open in front of her and reveal the pristine lobby from an hour earlier. As she takes a shaky breath, she steps out and tries to dart to the exit doors in her heels and almost trips over her feet in the process. 

The cool air greets her, the wind picking up as she stops in her tracks and takes in a breath. Her hand releases from gripping the bag’s strap, aching from the unintentional clench. Taking in a few more breaths, her hand falls to her side. I’m okay. I am...okay. 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she presses a hand to her temple for a moment as she tries to clear her mind of the interview. It’s just an interview, it’s just a one-time thing. 

She clears her throat as her hand drops to her side, thumping of her heart in her throat subsiding as Khloe heads to the nearby train station with her ticket in hand. As she gets onto the next train within minutes, Khloe finds herself replaying the interview in her head. What is it about his demeanor that sets me off? Is it his overconfidence? Arrogance? His closed-off persona? 

Well, then again, she can’t judge a man who just wanted and wants to be successful. Can’t blame an attractive man for that, now can I? 

Forget it, Khloe. You have other and better things to do than dwell on...whatever this is. 

Pulling out the spare earbuds that she brought with her, Khloe plugs them in. As the music app opens up, she hits a random playlist before turning her phone back off as she waits for her stop. 

Within the hour-and-fifteen minute train ride, the train stops, and Khloe walks off of it as she adjusts the straps of her bag. The city’s name, Drøbak, is spray-painted across one of the walls she passes as she climbs the stairs up to one of the streets connecting to the major street. Khloe pulls out her phone, putting her newly-leased-already-paid-for apartment’s address into her maps app. Something of a smile pops up across her face as FIVE MINUTE WALK flashes across the screen. 

Her apartment complex pops up shortly and Khloe strings her earbuds out, rolling the cord up around her hand before shoving it into her bag. She slides the apartment key out as she walks up the steps, letting out a sigh as she unlocks the door. 

The bareness of the entire apartment as Khloe kicks her shoes off at the door and sets down her backpack. Pressing a hand to the wall as she opens the bag up to get her tablet, charger, and phone, she bites her lower lip before making her way to the couch, plopping down. 

She stares up at the ceiling for a moment, inhaling sharply before rolling her head back forward at the mounted TV sitting on the wall across from her. Her tablet, cold in her hands, turns on as Khloe punches in the passcode. 

The interview document from earlier makes her freeze for a split second, and Khloe looks up, sitting there for a moment before placing the tablet and her phone on the cushion next to her. The woman stands and heads into the bedroom--her bedroom--across from the kitchen that’s back behind and blocked off from the living-and-dining room area. 

Grabbing her charging laptop from the surface of her bed, Khloe opens it up as she makes her way back into the main living space. 

“Time to get to work, I guess,” she mumbles as she sits back down on the couch. 

As Khloe begins to sort out the information from the interview into a new document on her computer, flashes of the actual interview creep into her mind. Don’t you think about him, don’t you even THINK about him. 

The image of the CEO makes the woman stop in the middle of her organization, and frowns. Why in hell am I so fascinated with him? For hell’s sake, I barely even know the man! 

Shaking her head, Khloe returns her attention to her computer and tablet in front of her. That’s a matter for a different day. 

Her phone lights up, buzzing against the couch’s surface as she peers at it out of the corner of her eye. 

Marie Aliyev - Text Message

“Well, crap,” she mumbles under her breath, picking the phone up and unlocking her phone to read whatever her supervisor sent. 

Are you planning to come down to the office tomorrow? - Marie 

Hesitating, Khloe looks back at her laptop before quickly typing out a response. 

Don’t now yet with the commute to Oslo and back - Khloe 

She leans back into the couch, waiting for a reply. 

I know how far Drøbak is, especially on the train. Don’t stress about coming in, but if you want to, I’ll send the address - Marie 

That would be great--the address. I need to get out of my apartment anyway -- Khloe 

Just come when you can. I’ll introduce the team once you’re here - Marie

Thank you - Khloe 

Her phone clicks as she turns it off, setting it down next to her as the exhaustion from her overnight flight a couple of days ago begins to kick in. Why did I take this assignment? Oh, wait, for the damn money. 

Rubbing her eye, she stares at the document full of errors and she sighs. I need to fucking finish this and submit it to the editor soon, don’t I? 

Inhaling sharply, Khloe leans forward and continues writing down the rest of the questions and answers before formatting them to the correct layout for the online journalist edition. She downloads the PDF version to her laptop, e-mailing it to the editor, Jens Larsson. Closing her laptop, she leans back into the couch as she begins to disassociate from exhaustion and jet lag. 

Khloe snaps back to reality within a few moments, blinking several times as she straightens her back and looks around. Her shoulders fall as she stands, collecting the devices laying around her and heads into her room to charge them all for tomorrow’s hour-and-fifteen minute trek to Oslo. 

After plugging them into their respective cords, she looks over at the lonely, digital clock sitting comfortably on the wall. Four-thirty-seven. Sigh. 

Sitting on her bed, she reopens her charging laptop and leans back into the pillows behind her. As Khloe pulls up Netflix, she sinks back into the bed. She pulls up the most recent show she was binging on her thirteen-hour flight from Dallas, hesitating before hitting play as she plugs her earbuds in. 

Within minutes, Khloe nods off as the show’s music and character chatter become ambient, background noise. 

⇋

Khloe finds herself back on the train to Oslo again the next morning, disassociating a little as her bag sits idly next to her. The train slows into the station, jerking the woman away from the disassociation. Her eyes widen as the train’s destination moves across the tiny screen to her left, the robotic woman’s voice announcing the destination’s spot in Norwegian. 

Shit runs through her mind as she grabs and swings her bag over her shoulder before scurrying out as the morning rush hour crowd crawls into the train car she was just on. Looking back momentarily, Khloe lets out a sigh of exhausted relief as she attempts to jog up the stairs in her heels, but to no avail. Where’s the nearest coffee shop? 

Her grip on her backpack’s solo strap on her shoulder lessens as she spots one a few meters away, her exhaustion easing it’s bearing on her as Khloe’s pace quickens. As she enters the store, she grabs the wallet she carries in her bag as she approaches the short line. 

With her limited knowledge of the Norwegian language, she carefully picks the drinks they offer apart from the sign and grimaces as she notes the cheapest and easiest one she knows. Pulling out a ten kroner coin and a few of the singular kroner coins from her wallet, Khloe sucks in a breath as the line gets shorter. 

Looking down at the currency in her hand, Khloe bites her lip as she finally gets to the cashier and orders her drink, handing the young man the money a minute later after he places the order. As he grabs her changes, Khloe looks around at the small shop and lets out her breath she was holding moments prior. A few people were standing around, looking down at their phones, with one or two sitting at the tables spread out with tablets or laptops open as they work. 

The cashier hands her the change and Khloe moves out of the line to wait for her drink, dumping the singular kroner back into her wallet. Looking down at her hands after shoving her wallet into her bag’s side pocket, her hands curl tightly into fists for a split second before dropping them to her side. 

Her coffee’s made shortly, and Khloe’s off to find her new office that she’ll be in and out of for the next six months while she’s on assignment in Norway. A breeze picks up, and for the first time since she’s gotten there, Khloe relaxes her shoulders a bit in confidence as she makes her way down the street. 

The woman soon finds the office, a thin building in between two other buildings, presumably apartments. As she makes her way up the short flight of stairs, she enters the building and closes the door behind her. 

The short hallway that greeted her leads into sectioned off areas. To her left, a panel of glass peers into the break room with more of an open floor plan of sectioned off desks to her right. A flight of stairs leads up to the rest of the building, presumably more desks. 

“Khloe Reynolds?” A thickly-sweet voice asks her, a tinge of exhaustion coming through as a woman comes down the flight of stairs with a stack of papers in her hands. Her monolid eyes smile as she approaches Khloe, holding her hand out. “Marie Aliyev, nice to meet you finally in person.” 

Khloe returns the smile, taking the handshake, “You, too.” 

“Was finding this place hard?”

Khloe chuckles after Marie drops her free hand, “No, it’s just getting here was a pain in the ass since I don’t have a car...yet.” 

“I’m sorry,” Marie offers, her face contouring in sympathy. “But was taking the train was alright, I assume?” 

“If you count almost falling asleep on it, then sure.” 

The two women share a laugh in the quiet office space. 

“Anyways,” Marie continues, her smile lingering on her face. “I’m glad you could make it in today, even if the train ride were was as boring as you say it is. Have you met any of your co-workers yet?” 

Khloe shakes her head, nothing to say. 

Marie shrugs, her smile turning into more of an ‘oh well, okay’ as she hugs the thin stack of papers against her chest. 

“Well, a few people are out on business,” she tells Khloe. “So the office’s gonna be a lil’ less crowded the next few days if you don’t mind. Oh, and by the way, before I forget, these two floors are our office. The rest belong to an artist so if you see someone coming up and down the stairs with canvases and brushes, that’s why.” 

“I’m...fine with that.” 

“Anyways,” Marie exhales as she breaks away from the spot where the two women were just standing, beckoning Khloe to come with her up the stairs to the second floor. Silence fills itself in between the two women, the two reaching the second floor before Marie walks over to a desk and slides the stack of papers onto it. 

Opposite of Khloe lies the printer leaning up against the wall, bins of paper and other scraps of things pushed against the actual table the printer’s laying on and around it. A few desks clutter the rest of the space, people sitting at them with laptops, files, and other decor litter the rest of the tablespace. 

“You probably already know Jens,” Marie continues, nodding towards the guy on Khloe’s left and the blond man who appears to be in his late twenties looks up. His grey eyes widen, shifting between the two women as he shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Our editor. To your...right, is Erika. Helps with any and everything in between. Liv and Eric aren’t here right now due to some personal things, but they’re both journalists respectively. We do have a few  other people, but as mentioned, they’re out on business right now.” 

Khloe’s hand curls around her bag’s strap was a bit tighter as she looks at the office space around her and at her new co-workers she’ll be working alongside the next several months. 

“There’s a desk reserved for you downstairs if you’d like to claim it today,” Marie offers, wringing her hands as she stares Khloe up and down. 

“That…that would be great,” Khloe smiles. 

Her supervisor returns the smile as she beckons Khloe again, but this time downstairs. Marie clears off one of the desks near the door, grabbing the random pieces of paper and shoving them into a nearby trash can. She then proceeds to wipe down the surface. 

Khloe sets down her bag as soon as Marie steps out of her way, saying, “Thank you.” 

“You’re a part of the team,” the supervisor comments as she tosses the wipe in the trash can, leaning up against a desk across from Khloe’s. “That one hasn’t been in use since Bjorn left a month ago.” 

“Bummer,” Khloe quietly states, sitting at the desk and readjusting her bag. 

Marie lets out a breath as Khloe gets situated before asking, “By the way, how was your first assignment?” 

“Oh, the interview?” Khloe looks up as she places her laptop on the desk’s surface. The blood drains from her face for a split second as a flashback of him staring out his office window engrains itself into her memory. “Yeah, yeah, it was okay. Great, not something I’ve done since graduating from university.” 

“Define great for me?” 

Khloe leans forward, her hands clamping as she hesitates to answer for a moment as she stares at the wall behind her supervisor. 

“Khloe?” 

“The interview was exceptional, but not my greatest,” she responds as she looks right back up at Marie, who gives her a small smile as she crosses her arms. “I just guess jetlag and nerves got to me, but...but it went smooth.” 

“Exceptional and smooth with nerves and jetlag?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry if I...if it didn’t make sense.” 

Marie chuckles as she uncrosses her arms and pushes herself from the desk, stating, “It’s fine Khloe. You’ve only been here a few days, so don’t stress yourself out too much over the next month, okay?” 

“I can’t promise that,” Khloe laughs. “Wasn’t raised to slog behind.” 

“I understand, I get that. I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

“That, I understand.” 

Her supervisor crosses her arms again as she looks down at Khloe, saying, “Well, you got your first assignment turned into Jens, and I’m surprised you got it to him yesterday only considering that you just had the interview.” 

“It wasn’t hard. Minus almost dropping from exhaustion.” 

That makes Marie chuckle again, “‘It wasn’t hard.’ Most people won’t say that about the assignment, considering the fact that most of them do something similar months later.” 

Khloe bites her lower lip, looking down at her clasped hands that are settled on top of her closed laptop. She says, “I mean, I’ve done things like this before back in the States, minus the fact that most of the CEOs weren’t on their high horses like Aleksander Nygaard.” 

“Speaking of which,” Marie responds after a moment of thinking as she steps out of the space between the two desks. “He sent me an e-mail last night around ten-thirty about the interview. Seems like you’ve impressed him.” 

“What’s so impressive about...about the interview I had with him?” 

“He just told me that he was impressed. Might’ve included a few details about how your...style was different and how much he had you.” 

“Is that all?” Khloe raises a brow as she straightens her back. 

Marie hesitates for a split second before answering her, “He also mentioned that if we need a second interview, he’d like to have you back.” 

“That’s shocking. Thought he didn’t like me or just that I was an inconvenience.” 

Her supervisor just lets out a sigh as she gives Khloe a disappointed look, “Most people portray themselves as something or someone else, and regarding the e-mail he sent me, he wasn’t disappointed in you, Khloe. He may have just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.” 

In the few moments of silence, Khloe sits there with a lump pushing its way up her throat. 

“Moving on from that, I do have another assignment for you,” Marie tells her. “You up for that?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, attention reshifting to her supervisor. 

“It’s easy, I promise.” 

With that, Khloe finds herself in isolation during the rest of the day and the rest of the week for that matter with the occasional checkup by Marie. Her new assignment almost done by the time she leaves the office Friday afternoon and gets home an hour and a half later from a delayed train trip, Khloe finds herself calling home and her mother picking up. 

“How are you?” Her mother asks her, her German accent picking up through the speaker. Khloe hesitates to answer as she places her phone on the dining table, momentarily forgetting about the bag on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?” 

“Mom, I’m fine.” 

“Khloe, I can tell that you’re not. Tell me the truth.” 

“Mom, Mom...I swear I’m fine,” Khloe tells her mother and she finally dumps her bag onto the chair next to her as she sits, grabbing her laptop out of it. “You’ll be the first to know if anything’s fine.” 

Her mother pauses, answering, “You worry me something, you know that?” 

“You don’t have to remind me, and I’m fine. Just getting adjusted to work and all, so don’t stress out me. By the way, how’s Dad? Is he, y’know, doing alright?” 

The distraction from the man on her mind works, and the two end up in a spiral of talking for the next hour or so before her mother hangs up to entertain Khloe’s nieces that were staying at her mother’s house over the weekend. Khloe lets out a breath, closing her laptop shortly afterward and takes that and her bag to her room before grabbing a thing of unboiled noodles from the pantry and tossing it into a pot of boiling water. As she waits for the timer to go off, the woman walks over and settles onto her couch, turning the TV on and scrolls through Netflix. 

The next couple of hours blur together, spent between grabbing a small portion of noddles and saving the rest for office lunches and watching a show that’s not available back in the States. The episode she’s on ends, and Khloe takes her bowl to the sink, scrubbing it clean and setting it out to dry. She glances over at the time on the oven, it reading almost nine o’clock. 

Great. 

With that, her body begins to ache with exhaustion and Khloe heads off to bed shortly after switching the TV and lights off. Saturday morning rolls by and Khloe finds herself rolling out of bed and heading off back to work. 

As she walks into the coffee shop she’s been heading to before work, her blood runs cold as she gets into the short line. 

“What a surprise to see you here, Ms. Reynolds,” Aleksander Nygaard states as he stops in front of her, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his free hand. What the hell, what the hell-- 

She takes a step back in surprise and takes the scene of him in for a moment. His button-down shirt is tucked into his slacks, tie loose, and hair has fallen into his eyes. He pushes his pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studies her. 

“I could say the same thing, Mr. Nygaard,” she manages, attempting a weak laugh as she adjusts her bag on her shoulder. Something of a small smile crosses his face as he raises a brow. 

“I was just in the area,” he explains. “They have some of the best coffee here.” 

“They...they do.” She shakes her head, looking down at her hands before back up at him. The sight of him standing in front of her looking like a normal man before going off to work throws her off. No wonder my memories didn’t do him justice. Go figure, Khloe. “And please, call me Khloe. I...actually prefer it.” 

His smile widens as he reshoulders his backpack, “Then call me Aleksander. Just because I’m the CEO of a company doesn’t mean you have to treat me as such.” 

Since when did he become more human? 

“That sounds doable,” she responds as she returns the smile. “You take the train?” 

“It’s only a five-minute thing. Easy, simple,” he shrugs. “And I’m not the biggest fan of traffic anyway.” 

Khloe lets out a chuckle, “I hate traffic.” 

“The worst, isn’t it?” 

“Always.” 

Her shoulders relax as she finds herself at the beginning of the line, ordering her usual cup of coffee and handing the cashier the money. As soon as she’s handed the change, she steps out of the line and moves out of people’s way as she waits. 

“You don’t strick me as a coffee person,” Aleksander states. 

“Neither does the businessman standing right beside me,” she retorts, raising an eyebrow as she shoves her wallet inside of her bag’s side pocket. He frowns, contemplates it for a moment before taking a sip of his drink. 

Out of all the places, why did he come here? I know it’s because of the traffic, but…

Her heartbeat slowly jumping out of her throat, she inhales slowly. 

“I know it’s traffic and stuff, but why in the world would you take a train to your own business?” She asks Aleksander, looking up at the man before grabbing her cup of coffee. 

“It’s cheaper,” he responds. “And as I said, it’s only five minutes.” 

“Says the rich man.” 

The two walk out together, Khloe leading. 

He snorts, “Now I’m being dictated to by an American woman?” 

“Something like that.” 

He exhales, letting out a laugh as he shakes his head, “I’ll never understand Americans, let alone an American woman working in my country.” 

“Thank you,” Khloe tells him, rolling her eyes. 

“Can I ask how long you’re going to be staying here?” 

She hesitates before telling him, “Six months. I’ll be gone before you ever think of me again.” 

That doesn’t stifle a laugh from him as she starts to make her way out of the train station. 

“Six months could also be a lifetime,” he tells her as he catches up with Khloe’s fast pace. 

“One second could also be forever,” Khloe says, glancing up at him for a brief moment. 

“So now we’re quoting Alice in Wonderland?” 

She purses her lips as she slows down her pace, “I’m just stating that--” 

“A second is fleeting, I know, but one second can also change your life. Confessing your love, ending it all…” 

Khloe stops in her tracks to stare at the man as he brushes his hair out of his face with his free hand. 

“I...I honestly don’t know how to respond to that,” she expresses. He manages a smile, shaking his head. 

“It’s fine,” he tells her. “By the way...how’s the article of yours coming?” 

Khloe freezes before responding with, “Oh, um, I...it’s finished. Been finished, I just sent it to the editor but...his editing software’s been awful so we can’t send the article out yet.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?” 

“No, no,” she blurts out. “You doing the interview was enough, and I’m thankful for that.” 

“If you’re sure. Also, if you need to contact me...” 

She sucks in a breath as her grip on her bag’s handle loosens as he scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it to her. 

“Do...do you want mine?” 

“Just leave me a voicemail. Oh, and thank you for doing the interview,” he tells Khloe after pausing to leave. “Couldn’t have it at a better time.” 

As she watches him walk past her, Khloe stares breathless. There’s something about him that’s so intriguing, she admits to herself. Too bad it’s a lost cause, but I can still admire from afar, can I not? 

Biting her lower lip, Khloe heads off to her work.

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 9: The Fool

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Friday, November 14, 2008

“Will you go to the winter formal with me?”

Her mouth remains agape, eyes staring intensely ahead. At her sides, her fingers pinch roughly at the hem of her apron, so much that the skin between her fingers turns an angry shade of red. She doesn’t think she has the brain power to comprehend the events as they’ve unfolded before her. It rings through her ears, and yet it’s like she can’t hear it, almost like she refuses to. If someone had told her that she’d be in this position earlier this morning, she would’ve argued the ridiculousness of such a thing. 

“Y/n?” Jasper chuckles nervously, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Scanning the room, the rest of the students, much like himself, are awaiting her response. “Uh...” he stutters, inching just a little closer for a bit privacy. “Are you...are you okay? Do you need to sit down or...”

“No!” the voice within her shouts to its very limits. “Formal?” she finally chokes out. This is wrong, so very and woefully wrong. She could vomit just about now, the contents of her stomach threatening to claw their way up into her mouth. The burn of acidity is already prevalent on the back of her tongue and leaves a bitter taste in its wake. 

Jasper offers a dubious nod, the stem of the rose see-sawing in his grasp. The usual sweet smell of its petals only makes her feel more nauseous. He pokes the inside of his cheek “What do you say?” 

A part of her wishes Cici had never told her about Harry, at least she wouldn’t feel as sick as she does now. She knows that she shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s just one of those things that test her anxieties like no other. “I,” she starts, she becomes aware of the ridiculing eyes that surround them. Being the center of attention, at least in this way, has never been something she’s ever wanted for herself. It’s like she’s an attraction at a fair, and all they want is for her to pull some sort of trick or do something spectacular. Oh god. She can feel it rising up her esophagus. Her chest feels restricted as air bubbles begin to collect at the back of her throat. It escapes from her lips before she’s had time to think it over. “I need to pee.” 

“You–” but Jasper thankfully chooses not to repeat the statement. “Oh, um...” he pulls his beanie further down his ears. “I’ll just wait for you here then.” 

“Yeah. Alright.” Y/n squeaks. At first, she slowly backs away as she unties the back of her apron. It’s only until she’s successfully placed it on the counter that she breaks for the door.

***

All the worry that had consumed him earlier has now faded away, and in its place rests the jitters of excitement that boil in his blood and bounce in his leg. They had won the debate, and the high of their success has only driven his confidence further. Actually, he hadn’t even been there to receive news of their triumph firsthand. He’d momentarily escaped the auditorium to run across the street to a flower shop he’d immediately spotted when they’d arrived. Although he knows Y/n isn’t one to expect gifts, he didn’t want to turn up empty handed. He’s been waiting so long for this, and he’d be damned if he didn’t properly prepare. 

As he holds the bouquet gently in his lap, he doesn’t try to hide the corny smile that dances across his lips. The person who had sold him the flowers had been this kind elderly lady whose eyes glimmered fondly as she spoke to her plants as though they could understand the world. 

“They can read people, you know,” she says, cradling a New England aster at the sepal. “The best listeners, too. Won’t talk back to you but will give you any answer you need.”

Harry looks over his shoulder for anyone else but finds himself to be the only person within close proximity. She must be talking to him. “What kind of answers?” he dares to ask. 

The elderly woman smirks to herself as she wanders through her store like a stranger without a destination. She runs the tips of her fingers through the aisles, brushing over the leaves and petals of various arrangements. “Ah,” she delights, stopping in her tracks and extending an ear out to listen. A moment of silence passes them, and slowly do the apples of her cheeks round. He watches her carefully, thinking she could potentially fade into mist if he were to look away. What kind of flower shop is this? 

“This,” she says sternly. “This is the one you’re looking for.” 

Of course, he’s completely perplexed but astounded all at once. He walks over, his mouth falling ajar as the pinkish-purple petals come into view. 

“She’s a lucky girl,” she tells him, looking him directly in the eyes for the first time. “Love is such a beautiful thing, wouldn’t you say?” 

Harry bites down on his tongue, hands slipping into the pockets of his cardigan. The topic has always brought out the shyness in him. “I mean, I’ve only just...” but he finds himself pausing to reflect. They haven’t known each other for long, but she’s already forged a solid position in his life, as dreadfully cheesy as it sounds, he’ll admit. Her image pops into his head, and just that makes him blush. “It is.” 

“Purple lilacs,” she hums out like a melody. Plucking one from its pot and handing it to him. “Symbolize early love, young love, if you will.” He studies its character, twirling it between his pointer and thumb. “They’re beautiful. Really, they are...but I was thinking something along the lines of a ro–”

“No, no.” she shakes her head, already starting to gather a bunch together. “This is the one for her.” 

“Honestly, it’s about time,” Maxxie huffs, slouching in his seat as their van merges onto the highway. “Not to be dramatic, but I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this to happen.”

“I’ve only known you for two months,” Harry raises an eyebrow, but can’t help but laugh. 

“Your point?” the blonde counters, running his hands through his long bangs and pushing them to the side. “Two months? Fifteen years?  Time is but a number, my friend. And besides,” he gives Harry a knowing look, “there’s no way she’s going to be able to turn you down.”

Dimples dress his cheeks as he looks back down into his lap. “You really think so?” 

***

“I’m freaking out!” Y/n screams in a harsh whisper into her phone. It’s been at least ten minutes since she’d sprinted out of the kitchen. She’d passed three restrooms until settling on one on the third floor of the building. 

“Well, what did you say to him?” Cici presses from the other end. Currently, she’s sitting in in her history class, Mr. Bartolome (Harry’s unmotivated homeroom teacher) watching over the class while Mr. Noone is out sick (although, everyone knows he’s at his timeshare in Vegas).

Y/n bangs the back of her head against the stall door, hand covering her eyes as to shield herself from this unforgiving reality. “I didn’t say anything! I made up some excuse and ran out.” 

“Hmm,” her friend tuts, “he probably thinks you have explosive diarrhea, but that’s probably for the best in this case. Hopefully he’ll think you’re contagious!”

“You’re a riot,” Y/n sighs. Pushing her sleeve up from her wrist, she squints at the time on her watch. Class ends in three minutes, which only means she has that much longer to figure everything out. 

If she were to have it her way, she would go with Harry in a heartbeat. It’s all she’s been able to think about all day, and all she wants when the day comes. No questions asked. But the problem is that he hasn’t asked her yet, and now Jasper has. She hasn’t even seen him since last night! Had he changed his mind? The thought alone makes her queasy, especially considering how troubled she feels over everything. “What am I going to do?”

***

As soon as their van parks right outside the main doors, Harry all but darts out. While the trip had only been about half an hour, it felt far too long with how eager he is. Maxxie calls from behind him, wishing all the best of luck because finally actions are about to be taken.

The first thing he does is check the Home Economics room since he knows she can get wrapped up in whatever project she’s set her heart on. He loves that about her, how she pours so much passion into her baking and comes up with the innovative combinations of flavors and designs. Just last week he’d seen the designs for this Winter Wonderland-themed cake that she has planned for the holidays (which he thinks would bring Duff Goldman’s work to shame, but he’s quite bias when it comes to her). 

When he peeks his head in the window on the door, he finds the entire room empty with only dirty cupcake pans left abandoned in the sink. He backs away, thinking to himself where he might be able to find her. 

Before he can make another move, he’s hit square in the back with the door. “Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” 

As he rubs the base of his spine, he looks up to see a young woman with black hair pulled tightly in a bun, probably no more than thirty. He recognizes her from the all the times he’s spent watching Y/n bake. What’s her name again? “Miss Ginevra?” he tests out the name. 

She smiles and nods back. “That’s me! Now what on earth are you doing standing here? Are you trying to crack a skull? I can’t imagine your coach being too pleased with that.” 

“I was actually coming to look for Y/n,” he admits sheepishly, and he slightly raises the lilacs in his right hand for her to see. He doesn’t notice the way the corners of Miss Ginevra’s lips slightly tug down. “Do you have any idea where I can find her?”  

***

“There you are!” he says slightly out of breath, but elation still evident in his tone. He fixes himself, adjusting his tie and pushing his hair away from his eyes. The bouquet remains hidden behind him, but he’s just itching to finally give it to her. She flickers him a gaze for just a moment before shuffling books from her backpack to her locker and vice versa. He pushes down the apprehension before it can bother him, coolly leaning on the locker beside hers as he waits to steal her attention. “I was just on my way to the cafeteria to look for you.” 

“Well, you found me,” she says weakly. 

“I’m so glad I did.” 

She doesn’t look up, and now he starts to worry. Usually a line like that would earn him at least a giggle or a roll of the eyes, but it’s like she’s trying her best not to look at him. Had he done something? Nothing in the last day, surely! Last night things had gone so well (minus another interruption, complements of Jeremy), and he hadn’t seen her at all today until right now. 

“Hey,” he says, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Everything alright?” And just like that she isn’t able to remain aloof any longer. “Harry, I–” but she cuts herself off when she sees the bottom of the stems sticking out from behind him. “Are those...are those for me?” 

“Huh? Oh!” He holds the bouquet between them, encouraging her to take them. “They’re purple lilacs.”

“I know,” she smiles sadly as she accepts them, even though she feels like she shouldn’t. “They’re my favorite flower.” 

He smiles widely. “That’s a relief,” Harry breathes out, rubbing the back of his neck. “They came highly recommended by the florist. Glad I listened her.” (Someone needs to remind him to visit that shop to say, ‘thank you’.) A light laugh sounds from his mouth, and it only makes Y/n feel worse because she wishes she could allow the butterflies in her stomach to flutter free. Instead, they’re caged up, and the key is being withheld.

“Y/n, I need to ask you–”

“Harry, there’s something you should–”

Both take a brief pause. 

Just as Y/n is about try again and speak up, Harry beats her to it. “Wait! Me first, yeah? I’m scared if I don’t, I never will,” he asks of her. “I was going to do this last night, but then your dad came in and then I’m sure Mason did something at some point...but anyway,” he shakes his head, but continues to grin. “Y/n, will you be my date to the–”

“Jasper asked me this morning,” she blurts out. She watches with heartache as his expression falters. His eyes have always been so expressive, and now more than ever do they radiate such melancholy. “And I said yes.” 

“Oh,” he breathes out, averting his eyes. The rest of his back hits the cool metal surface and he stuffs both hands in his pockets. He stares ahead without focus or intent. If he’d been feeling confident earlier, now it’s like he’s fallen hard from grace.

She chews on her bottom lip as he maintains a silence so deafening that she feels she could scream. 

“Say something,” she pleads. 

But there’s nothing he can say. Not without sounding like a complete arse, at least. He wants to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum because he’s just had enough of all this. The one time he’s able to follow through, it’s already too late. He’s angry at Jasper for being such a dick for existing. 

He’s upset with her because they’re constantly out of step with one another. Most of all, he’s just frustrated with himself for not having done something sooner.

With much convincing from his brain, he faces her. He looks her in the eyes, smiles and nods. “I hope you like the flowers.” And with that, he turns and walks the other way.

***

Sometimes Y/n wishes things could be different. 

There have been so many instances in the last few months where she would have liked to have been bolder. Or maybe she wishes she didn’t feel so deeply for someone that fate refuses to let her have. Because she’s almost certain that this has to be some sort of sign. How many times are they going to have to live this narrative before they get it right? 

“These are so pretty! Are they yours?” She looks up to see her Liv standing at her bedroom door, the purple lilacs in her hands. When she’d arrived home from school, she had left them on the kitchen counter, not wanting to look at them and remember the way he had just turned his back on her. The sight of it causes a burn behind her eyes, but she’s already so tired from having been here before. He didn’t even allow her a chance to explain, and that’s probably what hurts the most. 

“They’re from Harry,” she replies lifelessly, falling back into her pillows. She hugs one closely to her chest. “He asked me to formal.”

Suddenly, she feels a weight bounce onto her bed that lifts her body from the mattress for a split second. “Did he really?” her mother exclaims, shaking her by the hip. “Honey, that’s great! Does this mean we’re going to go dress shopping? You know, I was at Bloomingdales the other day, and I saw this beautiful white gown that I know would look perfect on you!”

“That’s great, Mom,” Y/n says. “I’ll let Jasper know to coordinate.”

“Jasper? I thought you said Harry asked you?”

She breathes out heavily. “I really don’t want to talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”

Liv moves and lays down next to her. Sliding her Blackberry out of her pocket, she holds it above her face. “When you’re ready, I’ll be right here. I’ve over a dozen emails that need responding, so take your time.” 

Hearing the tapping of the keys as Liv types away only makes Y/n feel more anxious about everything. 

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click. Click.

It’s like she’s ticking timebomb, and all that’s left is for something to trigger her to blow her top. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you.” 

***

Monday, November 17, 2008

It feels a lot like the first day of school where he had sat in his mum’s SUV and watched as the students swarmed into the building like running water. He remembers it clearly, that warm September breeze had hit him just right as he had stepped out of the car. And of course, almost immediately after had this girl with a pink and grey scrunchie knocked into him, then ran up the stairs before he could even blink. Then first class of the year, who’s sat next to him? Yes, things had seemed much simpler that day. Harry more than wishes he could go back and do things differently every day after. 

“Try not to think about it too much, yeah?” Anne tells him as she rubs his arm. “Don’t let this ruin your friendship.”

“Yeah,” he says curtly. He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” He leaves it at that, not wanting to say anything more in fear that he’ll relive that heartbreak he’d felt that entire rest of the day. Because after he’d left her at their lockers, he’d gone about every motion with such numbness that he can’t even remember how he’d gotten home. He’d woken up Saturday morning feeling as unmotivated as Mr. Bartolome, and as a consequence had stayed up until the early hours of this morning trying to complete all of his assignments. 

When his feet land on the concrete, a triad of honks sounds from behind him. He turns around to see Jeremy’s car pull up behind Anne’s. 

“Harry!” the older man greets as he waves his hand out the window. Beside him, Y/n sits with her eyes lowered, not wanting to look up. 

“Uh...hey, Mr. Y/l/n. How’re you doing?” he tries his best to make conversation. 

Jeremy steps out of the car and goes to shake his hand. “Great, great!” he says happily. “I’m so glad I caught you,” he continues, then looks over Harry’s shoulder. “Is that your mom?” Not even waiting for a confirmation he strides past him. 

It leaves Harry and Y/n with the misfortune of having to avoid the other’s gaze, only a windshield protecting them from further hurting the other.

***

[bluesfortheredj]

Happy At Home.

late 70s Deaky x reader set in present day 

@yourlocalmusicalprostitute this one’s for you! Part of the Somebody To Love valentine’s event.

Had today been a good day? Far from it. You’d had back to back meetings, it was a Friday, and all you wanted to do was get home without having to be squished against a load of other sweaty, equally fed up human beings on a packed tube carriage. Unfortunately a taxi would be extortionate though, so as you step onto the already crowded tube train you let out a defeated sigh and cuddle your bag up against your chest as you try to take up as little room as possible. You manage to slip your phone out of the zipped side pocket and go to the conversation thread between you and John to see the last few messages exchanged, and a grin spreads across your face as you read them.

-That would literally be impossible, the circuit isn’t even complete, I don’t know how that light is working but it definitely shouldn’t be. Fools! Xx

-...okay, well I just thought it was a cute DIY light idea for the bedroom… Xx

-Oh, yeah it’s lovely! I’ll get straight on it my love xx Also, I saw this and thought of you…

A quiet laugh escapes you as you scroll down to see the Pingu meme of him looking annoyed while making a love heart on a piece of paper.

-I feel this perfectly sums up how I feel whenever you put yourself down and I’m annoyed that you think that of yourself but I still want to show you how much I love you xx

You stare at the image and message that went along with it for a few seconds longer before tearing your eyes away and letting reality hit you as the sound of the train and chatter around you suddenly fills your ears once again. You hadn’t even noticed that everything had drowned out and faded away while you were looking over those messages, but that was just the effect John had on you; he could take you away from anything bad even if he wasn’t physically with you. It was one of the many traits you’d fallen in love with about him, and as the train stops at the next station you calculate how much longer you have left until you see him again. Too long to be honest, but then it always was.

There’s an immense relief when you finally get through the front door and shut the world safely outside where it can’t get to you any more, and you squint your eyes as you try to listen for a sound that John was here as you hang up your coat and bag, then slip your shoes off. You stand for a moment at the bottom of the stairs until a familiar figure appears at the top of them with wires bouncing from one hand.

“Hello!” he grins, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Hey,” you chuckle, “what’s with the wires?”

“Just making a start on that light.”

“Already?!”

“Well I’ve got all the bits for it anyway, so thought I’d get going with it,” he replies with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

You certainly couldn’t fault John when it came to getting jobs done around the house as once he put his mind to something he would be sure to finish it, even when technically it didn’t need doing. You’d often find him with an appliance in a semi deconstructed state on the kitchen table just because he’d heard a random click that shouldn’t have happened and he wanted to find out where it had come from. As he scurries off to put away the things in his hands you roll your eyes with a smile and make your way towards the kitchen to see what there was for dinner.

“So I have a plan for tomorrow...” John asks as he stands in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest as he watches you hunt in the fridge.

“Right...” you trail off, lost in the few contents of the fridge as you try and make something edible out of things that really don’t go with one another.

“A day in, just me and you, what do you think?”

You shut the fridge door so you can turn to face him and his cheeky grin, then you step towards him and his now open arms so he can envelop you into a tight embrace as you sigh with relief at his suggestion. It was as if he’d read your mind; you’d been busy every weekend recently and all you really wanted to do was to stay at home for a couple of days to properly recuperate and relax after the busy working week.

“This is why I love you,” you sigh happily as you slide your hands around his back.

“One of the many, many reasons I hope...” he laughs.

“Of course! I just can’t name them all right now because I’m too tired.”

John chuckles before directing you to the sofa and sitting you down while he potters about in the kitchen making some dinner for you both while the familiar sounds of Rick James flow softly from his phone as he figures out what to do with the limited ingredients you had. You let your head fall back onto the cushion behind you as your eyes close with a peaceful smile tugging at your lips, and the odd mutter from John as he talks to himself while cooking fills your heart with a loving warmth. It’s not too long until he’s handing you a plate of food that is perfect for filling the rather large gap in your stomach, and you both settle down on the sofa in a comfortable silence as you eat.

The next morning started as any other Saturday to be honest; John had already been up for an hour or so, tinkering around with the light he’d started yesterday, and you’d been left to have a well earned lay in. When you eventually begin to stir he appears with a cup of coffee and sets it down on your bedside table, perching on the edge of the bed as he strokes the hair back from your face with a smile.

“Morning sleepy head,” he grins, “how are you feeling?”

“Rested, for once,” you sigh happily as you stretch your arms up before shuffling your body to sit up against the headboard.

“Good, now how about you drink your coffee, then open this...” he picks up a box from the floor and places it on your lap, tapping the lid lightly with a grin.

“What’s this for?!”

“Valentine’s day...”

“That’s today?!” you gasp, “oh my god, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot, I’ve been so busy, it didn’t even-”

“Shh,” he laughs, “don’t worry about it. Today is about you. Which is why I’m going to get changed… Wait right there.”

You sip on your coffee as you await John’s return and when he appears in the doorway in nothing but those yellow shorts of his, you can’t help but let out an excited giggle at the sight of him. He reaches an arm up to the top of the doorway as he casually leans against it with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows, and you put your now empty cup down on the bedside table ready to slip out from under the covers and go over to hug him.

“Ah, stay where you are, you’ve got that to open!”

You pout at him but undo the bow on the box then lift the lid slowly to see a sheet of tissue paper covering whatever was inside. The lid is carefully placed on the bed next to you as John watches you intently while you move the tissue paper out of the way to reveal a velvet tulip skirted dress with cap sleeves that was a few shades darker than his shorts. You lift it out of the box with a quiet gasp at how beautiful it was then slide out of bed to hold it up against yourself in the mirror, swinging your body from side to side with a smile as you fall in love with the garment.

“What do you think?” John asks as he steps towards you.

“Deaky, it’s… It’s perfect...” you whisper, “but now I feel awful for not getting you anything.”

“All I need is you,” he smiles before sliding his hands around your waist from behind and winking at you in your reflection.

“I can give you something,” you smirk as you turn around in his arms, “and you definitely won’t be needing those shorts...”

[today-we-will-survive]

Kookie’s Cookies and Cakes

Pairing: baker!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, fluff and more fluff

Warning: none

Word count: 1.7K

A/N: dedicated to the anon that told me to write a fic for myself 💜

In the darkness of the early morning, Jungkook fumbles with his keys as he tries to blindly fit them into the lock. But then the key finds its home, and with a soft click, he pushes the door open and steps inside the bakery.

It’s the smell of the place, he thinks whenever he crosses the threshold, that always hits home the fact that he is doing what he loves. The comforting smells of bread and sugary glaze is ever present in this place.

He switches off the alarm and flips on the lights, flooding the storefront with warm, white light. The bakery is quaint with just a few cafe tables scattered across the black and white checkered tiles. The marble front counters are trimmed with gold painted molding and the glass display shelves are empty now but by the time he opens, they’ll be displaying beautiful pastries for the patrons of the city to ooh and aah over as they do most mornings.

Jungkook has a gift. Everyone knows that.

The things he can do with butter and flour are on par with the works of the notable french bakeries in Paris and the fact that his business is limited to this small town isn’t lost on him. It’s been a dream from the time he opened Kookie’s Cookies and Cakes to expand his business, whether that be online or in a bigger city. As of right now though, this little bakery is enough.

With a contented sigh, Jungkook makes his way into the back room and turns on the light. There isn’t a lot in this small workroom. An industrial sized mixer stands like a metal pillar in the corner beside a stainless steel fridge and double ovens nestle in the wall to the right of the door. A large wooden island takes up most of the room and is the heart of the whole bakery.

Jungkook likes to work in silence usually for the first couple of hours in the morning. There’s something about hearing the sounds of the mixer and the soft tick of the ovens as they preheat that tends to keep his mind at ease, even as he thinks about you.

You’ve been a regular at Kookie’s for a while now, stopping by the quaint little place every morning on your way to work to grab an orange chocolate chip muffin and a cup of coffee. Every morning you enter the bakery, the tinkling bell over the door announcing your arrival. Every morning Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes through the glass of the display case as he finishes putting the last few items on the shelves. Every morning, his heart quickens the moment he sees you.

You always look so fresh and nice, your makeup done meticulously, hair perfectly styled. He doesn’t actually know where you work but it’s obviously somewhere much too professional for you to take interest in the shy baker that can’t help but turn into a bumbling mess whenever you speak to him.

A shrill ding breaks the silence as the ovens rise to temperature causing Jungkook to nearly jump out of his skin. With clumsy movements, he makes his way over to the refrigerator and pulls out a tray of cinnamon rolls that were proofing overnight. After popping them in the oven, he wipes his forehead with the back of his flour covered hand and goes back to the big ball of dough resting on the counter. In just a few hours, it will become a batch of his favorite mint chip scones.

*

As the golden light of the morning begins to seep in through the big window and paint the storefront, Jungkook drizzles sugar glaze over the last row of cake donuts. A bit dribbles onto the counter but he ignores it, grabbing the tray and rushing out to the front to start a pot of coffee. You always come at the same time every morning and he would feel terrible if he made you late because you were waiting on your drink that he completely forgot to brew earlier.

He squints at the buttons, having a hard time reading them since he ran out of contact solution last night and therefore couldn’t put his contacts in this morning. Luckily, he didn’t have to look too hard for his spare glasses—a pair of gold, round rimmed ones that he’s always liked—before hurrying out the door and now he pulls them out of his pocket and slips them on.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Jungkook utters under his breath, his fingers tapping rapidly against the countertop on either side of the coffee maker as he urges it to go faster. He glances up at the clock above him on the wall. You’ll be there any minute.

With a frustrated huff, Jungkook pushes his glasses up his nose—now he remembers why he never wears them—and leans on his elbow, eyes glued again to the spout where the coffee should start streaming out any time now.

The dark liquid has just started to drip into the pot when Jungkook hears the familiar sound of the bell above the door. He whirls around, his wide eyes landing on you as your red painted lips curl up into a warm smile.

“Morning Jungkook,” you say brightly, your voice as smooth as the glaze on the donuts still sitting on the tray on the counter.

“Hey, Y/N,” he chokes out, quickly pushing his glasses up his nose again. “Uh…coffee’s almost ready.”

You smile wider and saunter up to the counter, your eyes scanning over the pastries in the display case. “No worries,” you say. “I have time this morning.”

Jungkook swallows hard watching as you peruse the case, which, what’s the point since you always get the orange, chocolate chip—

“Crap,” Jungkook utters under his breath. Not quiet enough apparently because as soon as the word leaves his lips, you look up at him curiously. “Uh…I forgot to make the muffins this morning,” he says scratching the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I promise I’ll have them tomorrow. I’ll make a double batch and you can have two, or three actually. You can have a whole dozen if you want—” His voice falters when you start laughing, your eyes sparkling amusedly.

“It’s okay, Jungkook, honest,” you giggle. “I’ve been meaning to try something else for a while, I just haven’t because those muffins are so amazing!” Pink warmth blooms in his cheeks at the compliment. “But this gives me the perfect opportunity to try something new.” Then you rest your arms carefully on top of the glass case, looking right into his eyes and cock a manicured eyebrow. “So, what would you recommend?”

Jungkook can’t speak. It’s like his vocabulary has reduced itself down to nothing but his name—which is even hard to remember with you looking at him like that—and his mouth opens and closes a few times silently before he shakes his head and pushes his glasses up his nose again. “Well, my favorite are the mint chocolate scones over here,” he says pointing toward the pastries sitting on a silver plate in the case. “I made them fresh this morning.” Obviously, you dork. Jungkook’s cheeks heat up further.

Just then the coffee pot buzzes causing him to jump and spin around fast, his fingers jabbing at the machine to turn it off. It takes an embarrassingly long time to get his hand to cooperate, but at last, he gets the thing to stop buzzing. When he turns back around, you have your lips pursed tightly in a terrible attempt at hiding your amusement.

“Coffee?” he asks with a nervous chuckle.

You can only nod and he turns away from you again, mentally cursing himself for always being such a spaz around you. You love it though. It makes him that much cuter. Not to mention, those glasses take his cuteness to a whole other level.

When he turns around again to hand you the full to-go cup, you can’t help but swoon a bit at the way the gold rimmed glasses make him look more thoughtful, more innocent somehow.

“I really like your glasses,” you say, your hand shaking a bit as you bring the cup to your lips. Why are you so nervous all of a sudden?

“Oh, thanks,” Jungkook says dipping his head. “I couldn’t wear my contacts this morning so I had to wear these.”

“They look nice on you,” you say.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Thanks,” he repeats softly, the blush having spread to his ears tinging them red to match the berries adorning the raspberry cupcakes in the case.

“So, I think I’ll try the mint chocolate scone this morning,” you say nodding toward the pastries on the silver plate.

“Oh right,” Jungkook says before opening the case on his side to grab one for you.

You watch in comfortable silence as he uses a pair of silver tongs to pinch the scone carefully and slip it into a small paper bag emblazoned with the name of his bakery. Kookie’s Cookies and Cakes.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say and open your bag to retrieve your wallet.

“No please,” he says quickly. “This one’s on the house.”

You freeze. “Are you sure?” you ask him.

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I feel bad about not having your muffins and for making you wait for the coffee.”

“I didn’t mind waiting at all,” you say. “And like I said before, I’ve been meaning to try something new, so it’s seriously no trouble at all.”

“Still,” Jungkook says. “I just want you to have them.”

Your heart softens in your chest and you smile shyly. “Thanks, Jungkook,” you utter as you take the pastry from him carefully. Then you meet his eyes again. “I really do like those glasses on you,” you say. “You should wear them more often.”

Every day for the rest of my life, Jungkook thinks even as he pushes them up after they’ve slid down the bridge of his nose again.

“See you tomorrow?” you ask.

“I’ll be here,” Jungkook says with a nod.

You give him a returning nod before turning and heading back out the door again.

You clutch the coffee and scone tightly in your hands, the smells wafting up to wrap your head in warmth and comfort, the image of a flustered Jungkook in those glasses causing your heart to flutter and the corners of your mouth to curl upward.

[dregstrash]

sleeping should be easy

This is for @sixofdemigods who won our Grishaverse Big Bang 200th Participant Giveaway. Give this blog a lovely little follow if you so desire!

Summary: This is basically bed sharing au with a dash of fake relationship. I also miss writing for these two idiots.

Nikolai wasn’t unfamiliar with sleeping beside people. Usually, it was a signal that he had a very successful night. 

He’s had nights where it was one night after the other with someone different. And if he was feeling particularly lazy, usually there’d be a morning, with the other person’s body safely snuggled against his chest. Usually, he savored those moments, a little extension from his previous indulgences from the night before. But there was that one time the girl he had laid with almost barred him from the exit, and he had to get very creative with a very small window and his clothes still half on. 

But the point was he wasn’t unaccustomed to having to share a bed. So he would never understand why he was wide awake, heart beating faster than usual, and unable to comprehend the fact that Zoya was sleeping next to him with a nightgown that might as well not have been there from the sheer quality of it.

When she had stepped out of their washroom, he had half a mind to look away (his brain did not need another image of Zoya to appear in his dreams), but he remembered who he was and innocently asked, “Were you planning on having a secret tryst on our recon mission, General?”

She rolled her eyes then and said, “I don’t need someone to dress for to look nice.”

And that was that. 

Nikolai knew that it was his idea to pose as man and wife to help with their cover in this small town, but the reality of it was now hitting him right in the chest. He was a strong man, but laying right next to the woman he was half in love with and being aware of every inch of space in between them was really testing his limits.

“Nikolai, I can feel you awake.” Zoya’s voice felt heavier in the night. The storm outside amplifying the tones of her voice.

“Your powers of observation never fail to surprise me,” Nikolai responded. He was staring straight up at the ceiling while Zoya was on her side facing the door. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“And you’re supposed to not mother me.”

“You’re being insufferable. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. This supposed shaman lives on the other side of this desolate little village and you were the one that insisted on packing minimally. So that means we have miles of walking on dirt roads and no guarantees that we’ll find the answer to getting the Darkling out of Yuri. So go to bed.”

Zoya’s voice did this thing when she was annoyed or tired where it got lower and lower until it sounded like a growl-- her breath making it gravelly and earthy. And it conjured up far too many scenarios that made Nikolai’s skin tingle and his hair stand on end. Any other night it would have been just a regular occurrence of Nikolai dreaming of things that would never come, but having the subject of his dreams fidgeting beside him and the silk of her nightgown brushing his arm was practical torture. 

“Might I point out, my dear general,” Nikolai tried to take a deep breath and somewhat calm his racing heart, “You’re just as awake as I am.”

“That’s because I’m keeping watch.”

“From assassin goats? Because there are more of those beasts out here than actual dangers.”

“You never know,” She huffed, “We were attacked by the Shu in the middle of a rose garden.”

“And the next time that happens, I will be sure to give you a full on apology for teasing you for your paranoia, but as it happens, you’re clearly not keeping watch.”

In a quick movement she whipped around, the blankets twisting around and landed her face to face with him.

Holy saints and their mothers, Nikolai thought as he peered down at her. The dying fire in the hearth cast her warm brown skin into a glow and the lines of her face were begging to be kissed. It would be so easy to lean down and brush her lips against his own. It would be the most natural thing in the world for him to reach over and cup her cheek and feel the soft skin there and feel her breath settle against the inside of his wrist. It was a situation that was on the verge of becoming a reality--if only the choice was his.

“Then why, pray tell, do you think I’d be awake in this saintsforsaken hour?” She hissed.

Nikolai shook himself out of his reverie and met her gaze in what he hoped was a fearless expression, “Probably congratulating yourself that you’ve finally gotten me into bed.”

Zoya’s upper lip curled, but he did notice that she didn’t look quite as disgusted as he thought she would.

“I think you’ve got that mixed up, Your Majesty.” She responded, her body moving closer towards his. And he swore he’d spend the rest of the days of his life trying to figure out if that was intentional or unintentional. “As I recall, you had stubbornly refused to leave when I tried to kick you out.”

It was Nikolai’s turn to roll his eyes, “Kings shouldn’t be getting back sores from sleeping on the floor. I’m sure there’s a law about it.”

“We know there’s no law.”

“Then I’ll make it into one, if I get to rule for that long.”

The last thought seemed to slam down around them like a death knoll. They got the letter days before their departure. The letter from Nikolai’s real father announcing his claim to the throne and that he marches onto Ravka with thousands of Fjerdans at his heels. Nikolai would have preferred to stay at the throne to start to make preparations, but then Yuri disappeared along with a mass of followers of the Starless Saint-- and Ravka wouldn’t be Ravka without all disasters coming at the same time. 

Nikolai had the choice to make-- save his throne or potentially save thousands more from the destruction the reincarnation of the Darkling could bring. 

It was a choice that was obvious, and yet it still felt like his heart was plummeting to his feet when he donned on his simple cloak and leave with Zoya scowling at the road behind them. 

“Stop saying nonsense.” Zoya said firmly. “I won’t let you escape from this throne that easily.”

Easily. Like any of this was easy. 

Nikolai chuckled sadly, and then turned onto his side so he can look at her with that fierce look in her eye with more comfort. 

“Sometimes things aren’t up to us, Zo. We know that better than anyone.”

It wasn’t like Nikolai to let such a defeated statement pass his lips. It wasn’t like him to think about settling for a fate that he hadn’t picked himself. But couldn’t he have doubts? Wasn’t he just a man who was putting out small fires while the world burned around him? Couldn’t he, just once, admit that there were so many things spinning out of his control? 

Apparently not.

Because the next thing he knew, Zoya slapped his arm rather firmly. Her hand not leaving his exposed bicep.

“Stop it.” Her grip tightened and her voice got lower with annoyance. “Last that I checked you weren’t some soft-handed ninny, and I signed up to serve a king who would argue with death to give him more time. So stop pretending like you don’t have a plan to fix all of this and go to bed.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to continue his protestations, but through Zoya’s own conviction he found himself wanting to hold onto what he had fought for. Whatever lapse in his judgement had been completely dissipated under the force of Zoya’s own will. And not for the first time, Nikolai wished that his own romantic life wouldn’t be so easily dictated by the problems of Ravka. He wished that he could reach over and brush the hair off of Zoya’s forehead and kiss her until stars sparked in his own eyes. 

“I’ll go to bed when you do,” Nikolai felt a small smirk creep onto his face, “For it gives comfort for a husband to see his wife well rested.”

She studied him for a moment and tilted her chin up more, “Don’t you know, dear husband, a good husband is one that never leaves his wife well-rested.”

The hand that was still on his arm crept up to brush his cheek briefly before going back to her side. 

Nikolai felt all the blood rush to that spot, and a thousand replies were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say one of them, Zoya turned her back to him and ended their conversation. 

He gave a small chuckle and followed her movement, his hands sneaking under his pillow and his body sinking down into the mattress. If he just counted his breaths then maybe he’d be able to fall asleep--maybe he’d stop trying to imagine just what it would be like to keep Zoya up late at night.

-

The next morning brought in the sound of birds and clear skies. It also brought Nikolai a pleasant warmth as he blinked awake, and he looked down to see that the night had brought him to the center of the bed with Zoya’s head on his chest. Her arm was wrapped around his torso and his hand was resting on her lower back. 

There were a thousand worries that were constantly buzzing around Nikolai’s mind, but they were all silent in the face of this stolen moment. And though he knew that the day had to start eventually, he shut his eyes and drew Zoya even closer. Stretching the peace of the morning for just a little longer.

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 2/?

May I? - 2/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she's truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Faith came to with a splitting headache. When she opened her eyes, bright lights forced them closed again. She groaned in pain, her stomach rolling unpleasantly.

"Faith? Can you hear me?"

It took her a moment to register who was talking. "Dr. Crusher?"

"Yes. You're in sickbay. You hit your head and have a concussion. How are you feeling?"

"Like my head is going to split open and I'm going to throw up all over myself."

She felt something press into her neck and suddenly her body relaxed like she was floating on a cloud. The pain ebbed and the nausea ceased. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes. Beverly's blurry face came into focus.

"Welcome back," the doctor said with a smile. 

"How long have I been out?"

"Only a few minutes."

Faith looked around, trying to make sense of her muddled memories. It took a moment for them to sort themselves out. She looked at her hands, expecting blood but finding them clean.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Beverly asked, scanning her with the tricorder.

She focused on the jumble of images. "I-I was doing maintenance in the Jefferies tubes. Commander Data found me and when I was showing him what I found…" She touched her forehead only to find smooth skin.

"That's good. That's exactly what Data told me." Beverly placed a hand on Faith's shoulder when she tried to sit up. "Faith, don't strain yourself. Just try to relax."

Faith had never been a fan of hospitals. Her mother had spent many years in one and the sterile air always triggered Faith's anxiety. Just laying there was enough to activate her flight response. 

"When can I go?"

Beverly chuckled. "Eager to get back to work, I see."

"Eager to be out of here."

Beverly's smile faded. "Faith, I have some personal questions I need you to answer for me. Just to make sure there's no permanent damage. Think you're up to it?"

"So long as it gets me out of here quicker."

"Full name?"

"Faith Rosaline Diaz."

"Rank and assignment?"

"Engineering, Ensign."

"Age?"

"Thirty...no, thirty-one. My birthday was last week."

Beverly smiled. "Well happy belated birthday." She studied the young woman for a moment. "How are you doing?"

Faith's guard was instantly up. She knew that tone, that question. Had heard it a million times before. Which was the reason she hadn't wanted Commander Data to bring her to sickbay.

"A little tired but that's all."

"That's all?" Beverly repeated. "Nothing else."

"No."

Beverly chewed her lip as she crossed her arms. They were both silent, tension building until the doctor spoke again. "Faith, you can talk to me. You know anything you tell me will be kept between us."

"Honestly, Dr. Crusher, I'm fine."

"Your scans showed a significant decrease in the reduction of certain neurotransmitters, primarily serotonin—"

"Doctor," Faith's voice was forceful with a hint of pleading. "Please...don't. I'm okay."

Beverly sighed heavily, not believing her patient for a moment. Although they were alone, she took a step closer and lowered her voice. "Faith, the reduction is dangerously low. You need some kind of treatment."

Faith forced herself to sit up, even though it made the world spin dangerously. "Thanks for the advice, doc. But I just want to go back to my quarters."

"If you won't talk to me, at least talk to Counselor Troi."

"No thank you. I think I just need rest."

"On that we can both agree," Beverly said. "No active duty for a week. I want you to take it easy and limit screen time for the next few days. I'll check in with you tomorrow to see how you're doing."

Relieved, Faith climbed off the table, trying to pretend her world didn't sway in the process. "Great. Thank you for your help, Dr. Crusher."

Beverly didn't dismiss her right away. Instead, she stared for a few seconds, wondering if there was anything else she could do or say to change Faith's mind. But she had a feeling it wouldn't help. Not right then at least.

"You're welcome. Call me if the symptoms get worse. Not just the concussion symptoms."

Faith nodded in understanding and hurried out of the room as fast as she could. She tried to keep her pace casual even though she wanted nothing more than to run. By the time she reached her quarters, her breathing was erratic, despite the medication she was given. 

It wasn't until she was safely behind closed doors that she let go. With a sob she sank onto the floor, tears pouring down her face. It was hard enough keeping it together during her normal day to day activities. She had done everything she could to avoid going to the sickbay. And one accident undid all her hard work.

She knew she was lucky. There were beings who would give all their appendages just to serve on the Enterprise. And yet, she couldn't stop the near-crippling depression and severe anxiety. It was harder and harder to keep up pretenses and she knew her work had started to suffer. 

She hadn't entirely been truthful when Data found her. She wasn't just in the tube doing a sweep. Sometimes, when the feelings became so overwhelming she couldn't hold on, she would slip into the tubes to collect herself. When she found the loose console, it was a stroke of luck. She thought fixing it was her chance to show Geordi she really was grateful and useful. 

Now she had to take a week off to recover from a stupid accident she caused herself.

Faith impatiently wiped her tears away. All she wanted to do was sleep. She forced herself to her feet, tugging at her uniform until she managed to get out of it. Her communicator was taken off with more care, gently placed on the nightstand by her bed.

She crawled under the covers, bundling herself up. The tears tried to fall again but she wouldn't let them this time. Sleep tugged at her, which she suspected was due to Dr. Crusher's injection. She welcomed it, allowing herself to drift away.

No dreams came. They had left her long ago so when she slept all she saw was darkness. If she slept at all. Most of the time she coasted through unconsciousness for short periods of time.

Faith didn't stir until hours later. When she checked the time, she was dismayed to see it was the early morning hours. Even with medication and an injury her body wouldn't let her sleep through the night. 

She eased herself out of bed, keeping the lights low to avoid aggravating her pounding head. After using the bathroom and splashing cold water on her face, she shuffled back into the bedroom. 

The doctor had told her to rest but she had no idea what that entailed. She was always working, it left little room for recreation. And when she did have downtime, she usually just tried to catch up on sleep. 

Which was why she was surprised to find herself restless. Her stomach churned unpleasantly but she didn't know if it was because of the concussion or because she was hungry. She shuffled over to the replicator.

"Dry toast and water, room temperature."

The food materialized and she carried them to her desk. As she munched on the toast, she loaded her terminal to check her messages. There was one from Dr. Crusher, listing suggestions for helping with her injury.

There was also one from Geordi. It took her some time to work up the courage to open it, but when she did she was surprised to find a very genuine message wishing her well and thanking her for fixing the console.

But I didn't fix it. Commander Data did.

Faith logged out of the terminal, wondering why the commander would say she did the work. The toast did nothing to help her stomach so she pushed it away. She climbed back into bed, but she couldn't fall asleep.

"Computer?" she asked after an hour of tossing and turning. "Where is Commander Data?"

"Commander Data is in his quarters."

After some contemplation, Faith dressed in her civilian clothes and left her room.

The corridors were empty. It was unnerving since Faith was used to constant activity during the day. Going to see Data was an impulse but she had to ask him about his report, and thank him for taking her to sickbay.

When she reached his quarters, she hesitated. He was an android so she knew he didn't require sleep, but she also wasn't sure if visiting him in his personal space was out of line or not.

You made it all this way. Might as well just do it.

Faith knew she wouldn't be able to relax until she had her questions answered. Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell.

"Come in," Data called.

The doors opened and Faith stepped through. She wasn't sure what she expected. Data's quarters were sparse in decoration but furnished like the others except for a large console.

Data himself was seated behind it, hands dancing across the screen. He looked up when she approached, arching his eyebrow.

"Hello, Faith. This certainly is a surprise."

"Hi, Commander, I'm sorry to interrupt," Faith said. She found herself standing at attention despite the informality. "If now's not a good time, I can come back."

"There is no need." He motioned to one of the few chairs in the room. "Please, have a seat. You should be resting."

"I know," Faith said, sinking into the chair. "But I wanted to come by and thank you in person for bringing me to sickbay."

"No thanks is necessary. I was performing my duties."

"That doesn't mean I can't still appreciate the gesture."

Data offered her a small smile. "You are welcome." He made a move to go back to his work but paused. "Is there something else you wish to discuss?"

Faith smiled. "How could you tell?"

"It is highly unlikely you came all the way to my quarters in the middle of the night just to thank me for bringing you to sickbay."

"True," Faith admitted. "I also wanted to ask you a question."

"Please, proceed."

"Geordi thanked me for fixing the console. But I didn't. You did."

"That is not a question. That is a statement."

Faith rolled her eyes but her lips twitched into a small smile. "Why did you tell him it was me when you did the work?"

Data cocked his head in confusion. "But it was you."

"All I did was hurt myself. You were the one who actually fixed the problem."

"I may have done the physical work but you found the problem and devised a way to correct it. I did not."

She hadn't considered that point of view. When he put it that way, she didn't feel so bad. 

"You have a point," she conceded. "Well then, thank you for that too."

"You are welcome. May I ask you a question, Faith?"

"Sure."

"When I was examining the console after returning to Engineering, I realized it was near impossible to see the displacement as you so claimed."

Faith's heart sank. "I don't know what to tell you. I know what I saw."

Data did not look convinced. "Are you quite certain?"

Her mind raced with the excuses she had planned when she first found the displacement but Data's intense stare made the words die in her throat. 

"I...may not have been entirely truthful," she admitted.

"I suspected as much."

"I was already in the tube when I found it. I...I needed a quiet place to think."

"And you did not tell me because you knew you would most likely be reprimanded by Commander La Forge."

"Yeah," Faith said, averting her gaze. She felt guilty for lying. She was an adult for god's sake and should be able to own up to her mistakes. "Are you going to tell him?"

Data pondered her question. "I do not feel it is relevant. Although I would suggest you do not make it a habit."

"I won't. Promise." Faith made a move to stand. 

She was relieved her secret was safe and didn't want to risk saying something that would change Data's mind. It would be best if she left him alone. After all, she had the answers she needed. Maybe she'd be able to get proper sleep.

"Before you leave, may I ask another question?" Data asked. 

"Of course."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You seem…" Data tried to find the right words. "...out of sorts."

Faith's good mood vanished. "Not you too."

"I apologize if the question is too forward. I noticed Dr. Crusher was concerned when I left sickbay. She would not tell me why. I hope it is nothing serious."

"I'm fine," Faith snapped.

Data pursed his lips before giving her a quick nod. "Very well. I can tell by your tone I have touched on a sensitive subject. I apologize."

The tension left Faith's body and she sunk back into her seat, running a hand through her tangled hair. "You don't need to apologize, Commander. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry, I'm just tired of being asked that question."

"I can see how that can grow tedious," Data said, nodding in understanding. "And per our previous conversation regarding titles, you may call me Data, if that would make you more comfortable."

Faith smiled softer this time, grateful he didn't push the subject of her feelings. "I think I will." She hauled herself to her feet again. "I also think I've taken enough of your time. I'll leave you to your work."

"You should get some rest," Data said. "You look fatigued."

"Is that android-speak for saying I look like crap?"

Data gave her a curious look, clearly not understanding the colloquialism. 

"Are you trying to say I look terrible? Like a mess?" Faith clarified. 

"I do not think you do look terrible or particularly messy," Data said. "While your hair is quite disheveled and there are dark circles around your eyes…" He cut himself off, seemingly noting his small blunder. "You look very nice."

Faith laughed. It was the first time she had in a while and it felt good. 

"I appreciate the sentiment, Data."

"I am incapable of feeling or sentiment."

Faith's smile widened and she backed up toward the door, keeping eye contact with him. "If you say so. Sorry to disturb you. Enjoy the rest of your night." She gave a small wave and then she was gone.

[the-gedonelune-times]

My Player One

While I know my blog is more centered to Wizardess Heart, I’ve found myself also playing Obey Me and of course at like midnight I get my brain to scream at me like ‘Hey, how about writing a fanfic for the series.’ so here we are at almost two in the morning posting this one-shot fic of one my absolute favorite characters from the game: Leviathan. This is literally the first time I’ve written a fanfic for the series so uniokjonkm enjoy!

“We’ve watched TSL a few times already and volume two still gets me…”

“Which part?” Levi hummed while rummaging in the popcorn bowl.

“The part where the Lord of the Fools finds his deceased former lover after being run off by the trap Henry and the Lord of Shadows set up. I mean, talk about terrible luck!”

Leviathan chuckled. “I think the Lord of Fools deserved it, he’s the least likable character in the series in my opinion.”

“Is it because he reminds you of Mammon?”

“Precisely.”

I gave a small snort as I leaned over to grab some popcorn. 

“You know, he can be an idiot, but he can be fun to hang out with sometimes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just say that. Now I may have to demote your status from girlfriend to ‘normie peasant’,”

“Hey, there’s no need to be mean.”

“Humph.”

Levi crammed more popcorn in his mouth before hitting the button on the remote to play the next volume of TSL. Hours had passed by since the end of Volume two and we were just about to finish the final volume; volume seven, when I began to find myself nodding off every so often. As the credits started rolling, I could fell Levi stretch his arms in the air and then wrap around me in a tender embrace.

“Mmm, Levi, what time is it?” I asked drowsily while burying my face sleepily into his shoulder.

“Around five in the morning.”

“Ah, that’s nice…” I sighed, feeling relaxed, or at least I was until realization hit me. “WAIT WHAT?!”

“Ow, critical hit on my ears! I can feel my HP draining!”

“Oh no, oh no!”

I scrambled out of Levi’s embrace and quickly grabbed my stuff that brought with me into his room.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

“Because I have early morning classes today!”

“Why don’t you just skip with me?”

Oh that cheeky smile…

“No way, I’m not skipping. I’ve seen the lectured that Lucifer can give and I’d like to avoid that at all costs!”

“Wait, will I see you later after class then? We can watch that new anime I got! I even got the limited edition Blu-ray disk with some bonus content. I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“I’ll try and head over after class, but I’ll need to stop by Hell’s kitchen on my way back for a quick caffeine boost. Is there anything you want me to pick up from there and bring back with me?”

“Hm..oh! I want one of their lunch specials with their spicy rainbow pizza.“ 

“Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

I watched as Levi waved me off slowly before passing out, right there on the spot, or at least I assume he did. After I left his room, I headed straight for mine, all while avoiding contact with anyone that might have been roaming the halls at this hour. When I finally reached my room, I quickly shut the door and changed out of my clothes before sliding into a steaming hot shower. I was hoping that maybe the shower would have woke me up, even slightly, but instead, it made me even more sleepy than before. So in a last-ditch effort, I splashed some cold water on my face after changing into my school clothes.

Needless to say, it didn’t work and I began questioning the life choices that I made just hours prior to this. Of course, I wanted to be upset with the fact that I allowed myself to stay up that late, despite knowing that my classes were going to be so early. But at the same time, the image of Levi’s adorably goofy smile had burned an image in my head and I just couldn’t stop thinking about him and the fun we had!

“Gah!” I slapped both of my cheeks. “Get it together! You have classes, or you might have to face Lucifer…”

I hoped that my little pep talk to myself would help give the strength I needed to get through my classes. Oddly enough, it somehow worked, well, except for when I accidentally fell asleep at my desk during the last class. Of course, Mammon had decided to scare the living daylights out of me and Asmo even joined in to help him. They’re lucky I was tired, or I’d be scheming of a way to get them back. 

Alas though, I couldn’t, which now that I think about it, was a good thing because I didn’t want to make and then proceed to deal with any more problems today. All I wanted to do right now was pick up the things from Hell’s Kitchen and head over to Levi’s room.

Knock knock

I knocked on the door a couple of times until I heard Levi’s voice from the other side.

“What’s the password?”

“Come on, seriously? I have so many thanks I’ve been carrying and I’m tired, can’t you let me in just this one time without a password?”

“No way, how do I know that you’re real?”

“What are you talking about?!”

“Remember that game I was playing? The clones of Doomsday? What if you’re actually a clone?”

“Levi so help me god if you don’t open this door!”

“Password first~”

I could hear his sing-song tone from behind the door and it took every ounce of energy I had to not try and bust the door down.

“Otakus rule and normies drool. There, are you satisfied now? Can I please come in?”

“Yes, you may enter my domain.”

“Finally…”

I somehow managed to open the door, despite having both of my hands pretty full. When I got inside, I closed the door with my foot before walking over to place the stuff I had brought with me. I heard Levi laughing at something while on his computer while I found myself a nice cozy spot to lie down on.

“Are you trolling on forums again?”

“….n-no…” I could hear the hesitation in his voice and could only shake my head with a smile on my face. 

“Oh, by the way, your stuff is over here, whenever you want to eat.”

“Did you get you something to eat?”

“I had some coffee, but it didn’t do much to help keep me awake. Is it alright if I rest here for a little bit?”

I heard the sound of his chair spin around as he faced me.

“Sure, go ahead and rest up and then afterward we can go and watch that new anime I was talking about. Wait, do you have classes again tomorrow?”

“Hm…I don’t think so. I don’t think Solomon does either, maybe he and I are exempt from them? Ugh, I can’t remember much of anything from earlier, my mind has been fogged up all morning…”

I pulled a nearby cover off from the sofa and wrapped myself in it before turning on my side, facing away from Levi, who only chuckled as he rummaged through the bag of food.

“Well, that just means more time for us to spend together and play video games, watch anime, oh, there’s this really cool manga I saw while browsing Azukon today, maybe we could - huh?”

Levi looked over at the human who was resting so comfortably on the floor, wrapped up in blankets while being surrounded by a plethora of pillows. 

“Humans get tired so easily that it amazes me how you get any work done. I know you can’t hear me but…” Levi’s voice trailed off a little as his cheeks began to burn. “When your energy is maximized, how about being my player one again tonight?”

[melikeylikeyjimin]

Noir || One

(I don’t own this gif)

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Mafia AU! Sugar Daddy AU! Jungkook X Reader, fluff, angst.

Warnings: none yet

A/N: Hello! I’m here with the first chapter of my new series, Noir! I hope you enjoy it and look forward to the next chapters! If you’d like to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter of Noir, please DM me or leave a comment on this post! Thank you to anyone who I asked to read this before I posted it, I’m really grateful for your feedback on it!

Next Chapter ||

“When looking at these designs, you should be able to determine how the shadows of the piece create movement within the image.” Sitting with my head resting on the palm of my hand, the professor continues to talk about how each artist uses different forms of techniques to make movement throughout a painting.

The class drones on for what feels like forever. I don’t necessarily care for finding the deeper meaning in art, but art compositions is a required class. Not sure how art would help me in my future of being a doctor and helping others, but requirements are requirements. With the bell ringing, sighs erupted throughout the room as people heave their backpacks over their shoulders and leave the room.

Groaning I force myself up and walk towards the door. “Y/N!” Someone calls out my name and my head turns towards the origin of the voice. There stands Nicci, flailing around as she tried to get through the crowd of other students.

“Jesus, it never gets easier to get through these halls no matter what time of day,” she complains.

“Well, it doesn’t help that there happens to be a lot of art majors at our college, so the building is always filled.”

Her arm immediately intertwines with mine as she starts dragging me away from my classroom, “So, have you heard the tea?” As soon as I heard the word tea my attention was on Nicci. I didn’t live a very drama filled life so hearing other people’s drama was stimulating to me.

“Well, I heard from Katrina who heard from Joe who also heard fro-”

I cut her off, “Okay, I don’t need to know all the different people that know, just spill.”

“Well, you know that one girl from the business department Eunji?”

“Yeah, I share an economics class with her, why?” “Well, I heard she got some nasty STD from this guy she slept with!”

I wrinkled my nose at her words, “She didn’t use a condom or anything?”

“Apparently not.” I sighed, but what did I really expect, it’s college.

I felt an arm drape over my shoulder as the said person pulled me closer to them. “What inappropriate things are you telling my poor baby this time, Nicci?”

“Oh stop babying her Dylan, she’s an adult, not a kid! She knows what sex is!”

Dylan gasped as he covered my ears, “We don’t say that word around her!”

Nicci rolled her eyes and I moved to grab Dylan’s hands from my ears, “She’s right though, I’m not a baby.”

He rolled his eyes as he moved to grab my hand, “I should limit the time she gets to spend with you, she’ll corrupt you.”

Nicci glared at him, “It’s called having fun, you should try getting laid sometime.” Dylan and she argued back and forth as they usually did over me. I used to try to get them to calm down, but after many failed attempts I stopped trying and let them work it out. They reminded me of an old married couple who would squabble over the littlest of things but still made up in the end.

Dylan was and always has been protective of me since I got to know him. Nicci was the first friend I ever made here at college so she and I did almost everything together when it came to new experiences.

Having watched them argue for the past three minutes, I decided I’d step in as it was taking longer than normal to simmer down. I grabbed Dylan’s hand as he was usually easier to pacify, “Dylan, you said you were going to take me out for lunch, why don’t we go? You guys can continue your argument some other time, but I’m hungry.”

He sighed as his eyes softened and he nodded, “Alright, let’s go.”

Nicci scoffed, “Of course he’s a big softy for you…” Dylan gave her a hard glare as she walked away.

“Text me,” I shouted after her. She put an ‘okay’ sign up and maneuvered her way through the sea of people.

“Lunch?” I asked.

“Lunch,” Dylan confirmed.

After arriving at the fast food restaurant, Dylan went up and ordered the food as I sat at the table and waited for him to come back. I scrolled through my phone to quench my boredom and looked at some of my social media feed. Seeing nothing interesting, I locked my phone and put it face down on the table and watched as Dylan filled our drinks and was grabbing all the food. He walked back to the table and set the food and drink I ordered in front of me.

“You know you didn’t have to pay for my lunch, right? I could have paid.”

“You already have enough to worry about between tuition, rent, and feeding yourself, me buying you one meal won’t kill me.”

“Still, I feel bad…”

“Just eat.” I dropped the topic and took a sip of my drink.

“Are you free tonight?” He asked between bites of food.

I tilted my head, “Why?”

“Do you want to have a movie night, it could just be the two of us or we could see about inviting Nicci or Jisoo.”

“Hmm, I would love to but I work tonight.”

He gave a slight pout, “You always work.”

I smiled and pat his hand, “Gotta make money somehow.”

“Are you sure you’re doing okay? You’re able to manage work and school? Are you sleeping well? Are you still getting some free time?” Dylan fired question after question at me.

“You worry too much, Dylan. Of course, I’m okay. I don’t work myself to death, I promise I sleep well and I have free time.”

“Well, you just do so much that you worry me, Y/N.”

“I really do promise that I’m okay, Dylan. You’re just overly paranoid.”

“You would tell me if you needed anything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” We continued to eat in silence but it wasn’t awkward or anything. I crumpled up the wrapper that my food came in as I continued to just sip on my drink until Dylan finished his food. “What time do you work?”

“Three,” I answered.

“I’ll drive you.” I nodded. I normally would argue with him but I felt like we had done enough arguing over me as it was. I went and threw our trash away as he waited for me. We walked out of the door and walked to his car.

Sitting inside, he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Are you sure you can’t just call in?”

“I really need the money, Dylan. I promise we can some other time.”

He sighed, “Alright, alright, I’ll get off your back about it. But I’ll definitely hold you to that.”

An eight-hour shift was never something I enjoyed. Working at a cafe til almost midnight was also frightening. Walking outside at night as a woman was something that always spiked my anxiety.

Today’s work was slow. Normally there was a rush hour between six and seven but tonight, there was hardly anyone there. “Did you wipe down the tables?” My manager yells from the back room.

“Not yet! I’ll do that after I finish cleaning the counters!”

“Okay!” My manager and I were closing tonight and I just couldn’t wait to go home and lay in bed and watch some tv. I thought about taking a bath to relax since tomorrow was Friday and we didn’t have school on Fridays, but I think I’d pass out in the bathtub if I tried. I finished wiping the counters with the old tattered rag and moved to wipe down the tables as well. I was hoping that after I finished wiping the tables that Jennie would let me go home and she would lock up.

Almost as if my prayers were answered I heard Jennie shout again from the back room, “Good work today! Once you finish the tables you can go ahead and go home!”

“Okay, thank you!” I finished up and put the rag back in the sink where it would be cleaned by the morning crew. Luckily I had the next two days off so I could take it easy. “I’m leaving now!”

“Okay, love, be careful on your way home, I know it’s late.” I grabbed my stuff and walked out the front door, letting it jingle signaling I had left. My apartment wasn’t too far away from where I worked so it would be a short ten-minute walk to get there. I hated walking out here late at night, but I worked so I had to. With my hands in my pockets, I began to fast walk my way home. The sooner I got there, the safer I would be.

The silence from around me was deafening. There were no cars on the roads and the only sound was my shoes hitting the pavement. The streetlights that illuminated the sidewalk were dim and in need of new lights. I sighed as I hugged my jacket to my body. Whenever I walked home late at night, I would keep my phone open on this alert app that Dylan made sure I always had. If I hit a single button the authorities would be called to my location in case anything happened. Nicci always complained whenever he talked to me about it because she thought it was over the top and too much. I agreed that it was a bit over the top but I also don’t really want to say that and then have something bad happen to me and not be able to get help, so I use it.

I was two minutes from my apartment when I heard a scuffling sound of a can being kicked. I felt my heart stop for a second before it started to beat even more heavily against my chest. I held my phone close to me and made sure my finger would hover over the emergency button.

I wanted to look behind me so badly, but I knew I shouldn’t. I heard the sound again and I went completely rigid. I couldn’t help myself. I looked behind me and didn’t see anything. It wasn’t until I looked down around my feet and saw a cat. It’s fur colored noir and it’s green eyes watching me carefully. I let out a sigh of relief realizing that it was only a cat and not someone else. I let my finger leave the button and I huffed as I continued my walk home.

I walked up the stairs to my door and pulled my keys out, unlocking the door and letting myself in. Finally feeling safe, I slid down the door and let myself relax. After a bit, I moved and locked the door, checking twice to be safe.

Pulling my shoes off my feet, I set them by the door and walk through to my living room. With a groan, I let my body sink into the couch and I pull out my phone to make sure I text Dylan. He asked me to text him every time I leave work and when I get back to my apartment when I have a later shift. Hearing the little ping noise of it sending, I let my phone fall to the floor. I felt too lazy to move from where I was so I decided, might as well sleep on the couch tonight. Turning the tv on to a random channel, I let my eyes droop. Within a few minutes, my eyes close entirely and I fall asleep with the tv playing in the background.

[thirstyforbishiesimagines]

Goodnight - Zion x Reader

* image from LucyDreams, Dangerous Fellows

Word Count: 1,907

Angst

Warning: Trigger ⚠️Child Zombie . Minor Gore . Violence . Profanity

.

.

“We’re going to need to find a new place tomorrow, we’re running out of food here.”

Zion voices to you quietly as he comes into bed, wrapping his arms around you – warming you up from the cold. After the school was overrun, you and Zion had been going from house to house seeking refuge from the never-ending zombies.

You nod sleepily, feeling somewhat sad to say goodbye to this house in particular as you reminisce on the time you’ve spent with Zion for the past 2 months. During this time, you’ve come to grow fond of each other – relying on one another when it was hard to cope. The house sheltered memories of your first kiss, your first night together, the countless amount of times he’d soothe and comfort you as the images of your fallen friends haunt you during your sleep. It was the home that allowed you to feel safe enough to let your guard down and be vulnerable with him.

Noticing your slight frown, he chuckles, “Dummy!”

He smirks playfully, instigating you to pout and stick your tongue out at him in return. He laughs again, your reactions never failing to amuse him.

“You’re such a kid!” Taunting – teasing you once more. You roll your eyes at him before leaning your head against his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll find us an even better place, someplace we can stay… forever.” He promises as he soothingly rubs your back in gentle, circular motions.

“Now come here!” He demands, his expression cocky yet playful. You giggle as you lean in to kiss him; starting off soft and gentle before he cheekily runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You moan as you comb your fingers through his soft crimson hair. Sliding his hands to your waist, he pulls you closer; deepening the kiss as your movements grow increasingly hot and wild. You both hurry to undress each other before allowing yourselves to submit to a night of passion as night falls.

.

The next morning, you feel a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach as you look out through the gaps of the boarded-up window and you pause from packing extra supplies within the kitchen.

“Zion?”

“Yeah babe?” You hear from the other room.

“You sure we can’t wait until tomorrow?” Your voice resonates with concern.

Zion makes his way toward you and notices you staring out the window as you question the thick fog surrounding the area.

“The snow is going to fall any day now… and we just can’t risk travelling when the roads get icy.” He states apologetically.

Zion ruffles your (h/c) hair and smiles, “We’ll be fine!” he reassures you as he places a quick peck on your lips before grabbing his steel pipe on the counter with one hand and interlocking your fingers with his in the other.

You slowly and cautiously make your way out of the house.

Zion pauses to look around for a safe route out of plain sight to head towards the next neighbourhood. You visit a couple of houses on the way while hiding from passing zombies, using the opportunity to search for anything you had missed from the previous food runs.

As the sun lowers to cast a gorgeous sunset, the temperature drops significantly; forcing the two of you to rest up in a nearby home. Lucky enough, the home was one you haven’t searched through yet and you discover a couple of unopened cans in the pantry. You wave a can in the air excitedly at Zion and he gives you a thumbs up, staying quiet in case there were zombies trapped inside. You quickly place them in your backpack and catch up to Zion who was cautiously searching the hallway. He signals for you to check the room on the right as he walks towards the one directly next to it. You nod, familiar with the protocol when entering uncharted territory.

You slowly push open the door to find a child’s bedroom in tatters – bedsheets and curtains torn with dried up blood decorating the walls. You feel faint from the sight; nausea overcoming you as your imagination flashes disturbing images of the possible scene in your mind. You cover your mouth and close your eyes as you try to compose yourself from throwing up.

Suddenly, you feel a small hand grip your ankle. Your eyes snap open to see a small, rotting boy – flesh dangling from his cheek as he crawls out from under the bed. If you hadn’t of had your hand already plastered over your mouth, you would have definitely screamed from shock.

As a conditioned reflex, you quickly kick his hand off you and plunge your knife into his skull. Staring at the sight of his small motionless body, your eyes begin to water. Although he was clearly a zombie, your breathing becomes panicked at the thought of having to put down a mere child. Now with both of your hands clamped over your mouth, you try to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. Feeling your knees grow weak, you stagger backwards – unintentionally hitting the desk behind you. The desk shook from the impact and the blaring sound of a toy police car emanates through the room; echoing out into the dead silent neighbourhood. Horrified, you scramble to the toy; desperately trying to find the off switch. With shaking hands, you successfully turn the siren off just as Zion rushes into the room.

The noise now absent, he takes in the scene and notices your fragile and vulnerable form. He grabs hold of your arm and pulls you toward him while closing the bedroom door – as if to erase the sight from you. You hide your face against his chest while he gently pats the back of your head before wrapping his arms around you. You’re able to relax in his embrace as you breathe in his familiar and comforting scent. The image of the boy now fading from your mind as it’s replaced by the presence of the man you’ve come to love.

Your moment is quickly interrupted by the sounds of multiple incoming growls.

Sounds of a mob.

Your eyes shoot up to look at Zion’s, your expression completely stricken with fear.

“We need to leave! NOW!” He yells, quickly grabbing hold of your hand.

You both bolt out the door and are greeted with the overwhelming sight of at least a dozen zombies rushing toward the house from all possible angles. Zion tugs at your hand as you both begin to sprint down the road.

You run for what feels like years, passing multiple neighbourhoods by now but never losing track of the zombies as they stay hot on your tail. You noticeably begin to slow down from exhaustion.

“KEEP RUNNING! WE CAN’T SLOW DOWN YET!” Zion shouts as he pulls at you, urging you to keep going.

“I can’t Zion, leave me… I won’t make it!” You plead, trying your hardest to keep up.

“YOU THINK I’D LEAVE YOU AFTER ALL WE’VE BEEN THROUGH?! I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT YOU!”

Your legs, now burning from fatigue; lead you to stumble over your feet – slowing you down ever so slightly. A zombie lunges towards you and grabs hold of your knee, pulling your leg back and causing you to fall face-first onto the ground – your hand slipping out of Zion’s grasp.

He looks back at you, completely mortified.

“NO!”

Zion rushes to grab hold of you once more, but the zombie drags your body away from him – straight into the mob. You instantly feel multiple areas of your body searing with excruciating pain, you try your hardest to tell Zion to run away and leave you but you couldn’t stop yourself from screaming at the burning agony of your flesh ripping off of your body.

“YOU FUCKERS!”

You hear him yell, as he bashes the heads of zombie after zombie.

No strength left to fight against them, all you’re able to do is watch Zion as he struggles to get every last zombie off from you. Feeling hopeless, you let your body lie motionless – no longer having the heart or the energy to fight back. You give in, allowing the monsters to eat to their ‘dead’ hearts content.

.

“NO, NO, NO! WAKE UP! (Y/N) PLEASE! WAKE UP!!”

You don’t know when you lost consciousness, but you suddenly open your (e/c) eyes to the sound of Zion’s panicked pleas, his bloodied hands gripping your shoulders. Your eyes wander to see multiple bodies lying lifeless along the ground.

“(Y/N)! Thank God! Fuck… hold on! I can fix this… I can, I can fix it.” He says hurriedly as he rummages through his backpack, tears forming on the surface of his eyes. You shake your head as best as you can, eyelids threatening to close once more. Zion picks you up, cradling you in his arms before bringing you towards him and burying his face into your chest.

“(Y/N), no… you can’t leave me, please…we’ll find help, you’ll be okay.” He whispers. You feel his form shake as he attempts to control his sobs.

You can hear the low growls of another mob in the distance, the sounds gradually becoming louder.

“FUCK! WHY?! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?! I should have listened to you… we should have stayed home.” He whimpers, anger and remorse resonating in his cries.

“I’m going to kill them all! I’m going to get rid of all those fuckers and make them pay for what they did to you.” He grits his teeth, rage igniting the bloodthirst within his irises.

You want to tell him ‘no’, you want to tell him to live and go on without you, but you’re too weak and in pain to get the words out. Instead, you try your hardest to lift your hand up to his face – gently caressing his cheek.

He lifts his head to look back at your torn up face, your thumb wiping away the tears escaping from his gorgeous golden eyes. Being selective, as your words have become limited, you decide on expressing what you’ve been wanting to tell him for a long time now.

“I-I…” You wheeze, your voice struggling to escape; initiating you to cough violently – blood splattering onto his face.

You take a deep, agonising breath.

“I love you… Zion” You barely whisper.

You see his face change from a burning rage, to being completely overtaken by grief as he begins to sob.

“Go…” You say quietly as your hand falls from his face, too weak to keep it up any longer. Zion kisses you hastily, the kiss salty from his tears – passionate yet gentle. He reluctantly pulls away from you and combs his fingers through your blood-soaked (h/c) hair.

“I love you too.” He cries as he hugs you tighter.

He gently sits you up against a nearby lamp post. Your eyelids become heavy and begin to close as you struggle to stay conscious, just barely making out the dark figures coming towards the both of you.

“Goodnight, my love…”

The last image you see was of Zion running towards the mob, steel pipe gripped tightly in his hand as he yells in anguish before your eyes flutter to a close. You replay his last words to you like a hymn – a calming spell.  Your body and mind now submitting to your injuries as you fall into an eternal sleep.

.

.

A/N: Hi hi~ This is the first proper angst piece that I had ever written and it has a special place in my heart... It’s quite different from the fluff & nsfw pieces on this blog but I hope you show it as much love as you do with our others! 

P.s. Yes, I cried while writing... and every other time when re-reading ^^;

x mod luna

[avengerofyourheart]

Flour Girl {5} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy), Wanda.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Ahh!! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of your love and support for this series. it means the world to me. There’s a lot more snark and sweetness coming up and I can’t wait to hear what your thoughts are!! Any and all feedback is appreciated. i adore you all. <3

<<Part 4   Part 5   Part 6>> 

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

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It’s a rotten morning when you’re awake even before your 4:30am alarm, unclogging a toilet. Your life was so glamorous. Mrs. Carter in 3G had called multiple times in the middle of the night and you finally answered, since she clearly wasn’t giving up. By the time you got back to your apartment, it was almost 5am. You were exhausted and now running late. Wonderful.

A brief, hot shower later and you were walking through the bakery into the safe space of your kitchen. Baking always put you in a calmer state after such a frazzled morning. But first, coffee. You added fresh grounds to the reservoir and hit the button to brew before tying on your apron and washing your hands.

It was a croissant day, so you pulled your chilled dough from the fridge. Carefully, you rolled it into a perfect rectangle and then folded it into thirds before wrapping it again. One more hour in the fridge and it would be ready to turn into croissants. The oven was on with the usual pastries baking when you got a text from “B”, and this time with an image attached.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you opened the attachment, excited and nervous. It was of a mug of coffee, still steaming, with the caption “Most important meal of the day.” No identifiable clues as to who your mystery texter was, and for a split second you were disappointed. Did you really want to know who it was? What happens then? Would you share who YOU were? That was too much to worry about so early in the morning.

Shaking off the thoughts, you clicked the icon for your phone’s camera and snapped a photo of your own mug of coffee with one word added. “Agreed.” Before sending it, you made sure nothing in the background would give the receiver any idea of your location. You hit send.

The oven timer went off then and you went about finishing all the pastries to sell and deliver. Wanda texted that the train was delayed and she would be a little late, so you took down the chairs and got the pastry case ready for the shop to open. Fresh coffee was brewing as Wanda walked through the door.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N!” she exclaimed immediately upon entering.

“It’s fine, seriously, I have things handled,” you assured her with a smile. “But I might have to duck back upstairs in a little while for a nap. Today started even earlier than usual,” you said with a tired sigh.

“Ooh. I’m sorry. Tenant problems?” Wanda grimaced.

You just shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle. I’m off to deliver. If I happen to be gone when the food delivery truck arrives, will you text me? I won’t be far away.”

“Of course,” she agreed, tying on her own cute apron and pulling her hair back.

“See you in a bit!”

_________________________

Your last stop of the day at the Nest proved a little more difficult, since the most convenient parking spot was currently occupied by a Barnes Bakery delivery van. Of course it was. Walking a little further than usual, you arrived slightly out of breath with arms aching as you pushed through the glass door. You staggered the last few feet and placed the two boxes on the counter with a huff. It was then that you noticed your nemesis leaning on said counter. Again.

“Morning, Y/N. Late start today?” he taunted with a grin.

You might have replied more honestly then, but Clint had arrived so you held your tongue. “Limited parking on the street this morning,” you said with a mild glare at the curly-haired brunet. He looked well-rested and perfected styled as usual. Jerk.

Clint looked over the pastries and signed the invoice as you absently rubbed at a stain on the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“Everything looks good,” he replied, handing you the form. “I might have to change my order for next week, though. Just a few less items. I guess the more savory items like the bagels are selling better so I have a little less room for your stuff. Not to worry, though, people still like having options,” the blond patted your hand with a grin.

Trying to return the smile, you let out a shaky breath. “Of course, yeah. Send me an email of what you’d like to change. No problem.”

“Great. I’ll see you two later,” Clint waved before walking over to help a customer.

Jimmy said nothing, but felt content to linger and sip his cup of coffee without a care in the world.

Having recovered, you whirled toward him. “Feeling proud of yourself?” you asked with a withering glare.

He just shrugged with a smirk. “Well, I’m not unhappy with this turn of events. You know how it goes…supply and demand,” he annoyingly explained before taking another sip.

“Yes, I understand that concept. It doesn’t take a business degree to grasp it,” you spat back at him. “Did you have to hog the whole street, too?”

“Looks like I have another…” he glanced at his watch, “15 minutes before the meter runs out, so yeah, I do. No more deliveries, so I might just stay a little longer.” Jimmy pushed away from the counter and settled on a nearby chair.

Fists clenched at your sides, you took a deep breath and grabbed the invoice off the counter. One last glance his way and you left without a word. What an insufferable man. Reaching your car, you got a text and saw it was from Wanda. You rushed back to the bakery just in time to see a delivery truck double parked outside.

“Sam, hi!” you jogged up to meet the man on the sidewalk.

The handsome, dark-skinned man gave you a smile as you arrived. “Hey, Y/N. Just in time, any later and the company starts to charge for late deliveries,” Sam told you regretfully. He had been your regular driver since you had opened. He was always kind to you, but the company did have regulations to uphold.

Catching your breath, you replied. “I know, I’m sorry. Rough morning. I’ll get the cellar door open.”

Rushing through the bakery and briefly speaking to Wanda, you squeezed down the narrow stairs at the back of the kitchen hidden by a door and into the small cellar. Most business, especially food establishments, had to have a storage area but limited real estate meant it had to be underground. You could barely stand up in the cellar and hauling 50 pound bags of flour up the stairs wasn’t fun, but you made the most of it.

You unlocked the padlock from inside and knocked twice before pushing the heavy metal doors open. The knocking alerted anyone nearby to get out of the way. Sam assisted laying the doors flat and then climbed down to help set up the ramp along the stairs. The best way to get everything down the stairs, or at least the non-fragile items, was by sliding them down with someone who could catch them at the bottom. It also helped you check off ingredients as they arrived and you could make sure they were put away properly.

Sam hollered that he was ready to go and you gave him a shout that you were as well. It only took about 15 minutes to unload and catch the items, but by the end your arms were aching and your back was sore from bending down in the small space.

“That’s the last of it,” Sam called down to you, but your brow furrowed at that. Something didn’t add up.

Climbing up the stairs, you accepted the order invoice Sam handed you and you looked it over. “I’m missing a bag of flour,” you told him, concerned.

“Yeah, I know. It busted open all over my truck when I tried to lift it. The loading guys must have torn it. Sorry about that. We could try to get a bag to you tomorrow, but there would be a delivery charge,” he said apologetically.

Biting your lip, you weighed the possibilities. The delivery fee was a crazy amount of money just for one bag of flour and you just didn’t have the extra money. You always tried to order a little extra just in case, but without that bag of flour, you’d just have to cross your fingers that what you had would last you until next week.

“No, that’s okay. Just credit me the bag of flour and I’ll get more next week,” you decided.

“Alright,” he said, making the adjustments to your invoice. “Sign, please.”

After waving goodbye to Sam and locking the cellar doors, you checked in on Wanda at the front.

“Hey, Y/N. Business has been steady, but nothing I can’t handle if you want to take that nap?” she offered.

Pushing away the desire to sleep, you shook your head. “No. Thanks, though. I need to work on a few savory recipes I’ve been thinking about,” you said resolutely.

“Right now?” she asked, concerned.

“Right now,” you replied, squaring your shoulders.  

It was time to fight back.

________________

Part 6>> 

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Oh, snap!! She’s ready to fight!! Ugh, Jimmy and is bagels. And a photo from “B”!! Ahh!! Turned out to just be coffee, but I’d be nervous, too! And Sam!! yayyy!!! I love him. Such a sweetheart. It also occurred to me while talking to Becca that some might not know how croissants are made! Or croissant dough, as mentioned, so I added a link to a youtube video and I’ll link it right here as well. Trust me when I say any homemade croissant you buy is worth every penny! I’ve also been thinking about sharing recipes and/or doing short videos about make the baked items I’ve mentioned. Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in! I love you guys. Can’t wait to hear your thought!! Thank you for reading!! :)

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