#i should be writing for my massive christmas drops but NO

[jittyjames]

my favorite part of being mentally ill is taking personality tests as my favorite characters

[nolita-fairytale]

don't you worry, there's still time | chef luca x fem!reader, feat. marcus brooks

summary: after losing his mother, marcus searches for joy and stillness in copenhagen. you and luca, who are more than happy to host, decide to take a big next step in your relationship. a oneshot from the world of 'burn your life down.'

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, light smut, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 5.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: wow, i missed this world! who is ready for the reveal of chef's restaurant name?! while i don't think i have the bandwidth to write another full series (nor a linear story to tell) i'm thinking of creating a second part to 'burn your life down' where we just get to drop in and see what they're up to. thoughts??

chef luca masterlist | full masterlist

After a tumultuous holiday season, it doesn’t take long for Sydney to realize that her friend is in need of a little help. A reprieve, she so kindly explained to both Marcus and Carmy when she’d proposed the idea. 

It was Sydney this time, who called Luca, knowing that she and Carmy would have to find something to do with Marcus. It wasn’t fair – that he’d lost his mom just before Thanksgiving – and they both agreed that Marcus needed to get out of dodge. Quick to act, Carmy set up a few stages in NYC for a week or so, which, while seemed to inspire Marcus, seemed to only plunge him further into a slump come Christmas. “I don’t know. I think we gotta send him on some kinda… eat, pray, love trip. The guy can only sulk on my couch for so long before I consider jumping out of the window,” Sydney says, her attempt to lighten the mood with humor still genuine. “It’s getting sad, Carm. Like… real fuckin’ sad.”

“You’re right. Uh… what about Copenhagen?” Carmy pitches with a shrug, because he knows what all consuming grief feels like. 

“Again?” she asks, uncertain of whether it’s the best choice that they could make. 

“Yeah,” Carmy shrugs in response. “Think he got a lot of it last time. Could be good for him to go back to somewhere familiar… work with Luca again. You don’t think it’s a-?”

“No I do! I just-,” Sydney hesitates, though she knows her business partner makes a good point. “Familiarity will be good for him. To be around people he can trust.”

“You want me to uh-,” Carmy begins to offer, figuring he’ll make the call. 

“Probably best if I explain the situation. Just ‘cause, you know, I know more of what’s going on… just send me his info and I’ll call later,” Sydney interjects. 

Carmy agrees with a curt nod before adding in:

“Uh… okay yeah. Yeah.”

*

You get plenty of time to prepare for Marcus’ visit, performing all kinds of fancy footwork to arrange a proper visit – a week’s worth of time spent staging and living in Copenhagen. When Luca finds out that the prolific houseboat, a chef retreat of sorts that’s always been an option for lodging, is booked for the week and a half that Marcus plans on visiting, you offer up your place without hesitation. 

The arrangement goes as follows: while Marcus stays at yours at no cost, you’ll stay with Luca for the duration of the time. 

This is how you find yourself at the massive Ikea on Dybbølsbro on a Saturday morning with Luca, in search of a set of fresh bed linens intended for guests. 

“I really should host more. And Astrid said she and Lina were planning a trip out here so… why not kill two birds with one stone?” you’d reasoned to your boyfriend, making a strong case for why you and Luca should make this little shopping trip. 

“What do you think of the blue?” Luca asks you, as you run your hand over a set of the display sheets, checking for softness. 

“Don’t know if the blue is what I’m going for. I was thinking of something warmer. Maybe a yellow or… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been into that trendy rust color as of late,” you reply with a shrug, moving onto the warmer colors. 

Luca chuckles and with a small shake of his head, he clarifies his previous questions with:

“No, I meant for me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him curiously, his comment pulling all of your focus as you search his face for answers. “You just got new bedding.” 

And expensive ones too. 

But as your eyes follow his gaze, you realize that he’s not talking about sheets, focused on the XL Twin-sized duvets just above where the sheets messily fall along the shelf. 

“I was thinking…” Luca trails off, checking in with you before he continues, with “... maybe it’s time I get two duvets… you know… for us.” He takes a beat, and a step towards you, and you know you’ll never stand a chance against his boyish charm as one side of his mouth turns up into a smile. 

You’re no stranger to the Scandinavian duvet method – two twin duvets for one king sized bed – but it sounds like Luca’s suggestion is about way more than buying an extra duvet on this trip. 

“I want you to feel at home… at my place."

“I do,” you reply, almost instantly, a warmth spreading through your belly as you take a step towards him. 

“But I mean really… feel like it’s your home. Because it is. It could be. You know… if you want it to be,” Luca continues, this time with more insistence, a look of hopefulness in his deep blue eyes. 

“Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?” you manage to get out, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Why not? We could use this week to try it out,” he suggests so casually that you practically have to do a double take. “See how it goes while Marcus stays at your place?”

“Yeah I-... that sounds like a good plan, yeah,” you stammer out, the grin on your face undeniable as you nod enthusiastically in the middle of a goddamn furniture store. 

“Besides,” Luca says, clearing his throat as his tone changes to one that’s much more playful. “You’re an absolute blanket hog and a repeat offender at that.” Luca winks your way as you roll your eyes with a laugh in response. “This could prevent some of our silly little quarrels, don’t you think, love?” 

“Uh huh,” you sound, your face skeptical as you look his way again. “Preventative measures. Sure, babe.”

Luca chuckles before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, right then and there, in the Ikea bed linen section, the place you’ll now forever think of as the place your boyfriend asked you to move in with him.

Connection

When Marcus arrives in Copenhagen, you’ve arranged your home with the most comfort in mind, having already packed a week’s worth of things and left for Luca’s. You can only imagine what he must be going through, deciding that something like that – losing your mother – though inevitable, is your goddamn worst nightmare. 

“Marcus, 

Enjoy your stay and please reach out if you need anything. I can’t wait to meet you!”

…is the note that you leave him, along with a few morning pastries you picked up from your favorite baggeri across the street, and your number scribbled down at the bottom of the notepad. 

As Marcus arrives, his eyes drawn immediately to your note and gift, Marcus smiles to himself, noticing that you left a very nice looking bottle of wine on the counter as well. He’s moved by your generosity, considering you’ve never met, and the fact that you’re willing to take so much care, extend this much kindness to a stranger, causes a wave of softness to wash over him. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can find softness again – the last few months riddled with pain, grief, and numbness to get through the days. 

While he came here to work, encouraged by his friends that a change of scenery may do his broken heart some good, it’s the first time Marcus has had a chance to be still. His feelings of grief sit heavier here and it catches him off guard, uncertain that he’s quite ready to sit with them yet. He pushes aside the thought, focusing on exploring your home and unpacking his bags. Marcus knows how to stay busy – he’s become an expert at it by now – reminding himself that he’s got work at 5 am sharp tomorrow.

*

“A little too much, chef. Take it down by about 15 grams,” Luca directs, his voice even and sure as he inspects the balls of dough that Marcus currently shapes. 

“Yes, chef,” Marcus nods in understanding, plopping the ball of dough back on the scale to adjust the measurement. 

The two of them work like this for the rest of the morning, Luca treading carefully while keeping things professional, while Marcus buries himself in the work – something that feels good, safe, right. 

He’s missed this. While Marcus has one chef he works with directly at the restaurant, he’s the expert – the head patissier. He misses being surrounded by excellence, getting to be a student of someone who is just as driven, if not more, and inspired. It’s good, quiet, calm, yet there’s a focus and intensity in Luca’s kitchen that feels like a breath of fresh air. 

His stage trip to New York has been more of a mess than beneficial. Maybe it had been the chaos of the city, or the chaos of the chefs he was working with. Maybe it was the fact that Marcus, though hungry for a distraction, hadn’t quite been ready to walk directly into the line of fire yet.

As Marcus’ practiced hands move with the dough, there’s a newfound confidence in the way that he works that's not lost on Luca. Luca watches his friend carefully, pride swelling in his chest as his mentee makes the adjustment with ease and diligence.

“Can I join you?” Luca asks, gesturing towards Marcus' workstation. 

“‘Course, chef,” Marcus replies, his response short yet reverent. 

As Luca joins him, finding a space to the right of Marcus, he busies his hands with rolling each perfectly measured ball of dough into mini boules, ready to proof. The two of them work quietly, side by side, the air between them heavy with words unsaid. He can feel it – the weight that lays so heavily on Marcus' heart – but Luca doesn’t want to bring it up, uninterested in forcing the conversation. Especially about something so painful, something he knows that Marcus has barely begun working through. 

“Thanks, again. For uh… you know… letting me come work,” Marcus begins, momentarily checking in with Luca to gauge a reaction. 

“‘Course,” Luca replies, his answer instantaneous. “You’re welcome here any time, mate.” 

“Yeah?” Marcus asks, stealing a glance in Luca’s direction.

“Yeah,” Luca responds with a certain nod. 

“And uh… shit. I can’t thank your girlfriend enough for letting me crash at her place,” Marcus adds, as he works through his discomfort and overwhelm from the wave of feelings that begin to bubble up in his chest.

“You can thank her yourself on Saturday,” Luca brings up, excited over the fact that Marcus will not only be meeting his girlfriend, but staging at her restaurant too. “She’s really looking forward to meeting you.” 

Marcus nods slowly, his hands the only steady thing about him as he continues to focus on his work. 

“I just mean-, well, she didn’t have to-. ‘S not like either of you owed it to me or anything and I-. You guys just really came through…” Marcus trails off, wanting to make his gratitude clear. It means more to him that he can articulate so instead he settles for, “So thank you. Again.”

Luca shrugs with an aplomb about him as he returns with, “We got you, mate.” He pauses before continuing, fully aware that Marcus isn’t quite comfortable with the feelings that have presented themself in this moment. “And the way I see it, I wouldn’t have met her if it weren’t for you – for our conversation the last time you were here – so we really do owe you for it.”

This time Luca makes an effort to check in with Marcus, gauging his emotional capacity as he concludes with:

“But that’s not what any of this is about: debts, who owes who what. We were both more than happy to host you. That’s what mates are for.”

It’s not till the end of the next shift that it hits him, and Marcus finds himself sitting outside of the restaurant on a bench across the street. He’s not sure whether it’s the jet lag or the exhaustion of the 5 am start time in another time zone, but it hits him all at once, like a ton of bricks. Suddenly consumed with the feelings that he’s been trying his best to avoid, all he can do is pause, completely caught off guard by the strength of them. 

Quietly, Luca joins him, having spotted him on his way home, rerouting himself in Marcus’ direction instead. 

All he can think of are the words you’ve asked him, and he you, time and time again – the ones that cut right to the core of you each and every time – that show you how much he cares. 

“How’s your heart?” Luca asks Marcus, after a few minutes of sitting on the bench together in silence. 

And how is his heart? 

He’s not sure how to answer, considering it’s been a while since he’s really had a chance to check in, the crippling reality of this great loss is too much to bear alone. 

His heart is broken, shattered into an infinite amount of pieces. 

He, and his heart will never be the same again and he doesn’t know where or how he’ll ever put it back together. 

His heart is… lost, in desperate need of finding a soft place to land. 

Marcus takes a while to answer, racking his brain for any semblance of a cohesive answer. 

He waits. And then he waits. 

Until finally, he can answer. 

“I uh… don’t know. But I’m hoping this trip will help me figure that out.”

Creativity 

“do you remember the 21st night of september? love was changin' the minds of pretenders while chasin' the clouds away.” (earth, wind, and fire.)

Everything about the way you run your kitchen feels different than what he’s used to. 

It’s sure as hell different from his last stage trip to New York, Marcus thinks to himself.

With Carmy and Syd, working with them, there’s a buzz of chaos that runs underneath even the most organized and efficient service. It’s something integral to what they have, gives an edge to The Bear that seems to make it hum in all the right ways. Even with Luca, who comes from fine dining and Michelin-starred restaurants, there’s a quiet and determined focus – an intensity to his work – even without the undercurrent of chaos. 

But this. But you. 

Your kitchen somehow teeters the line of organized chaos and reckless play so well that Marcus understands why this works – why it’s efficient. 

Still, he watches as you and your staff dance – no, literally dance – around each other to the highly recognizable Earth, Wind, and Fire tune. Mathilde sings along while chopping chives for the brothy mushroom grain bowl, while, mid-phrase, manages to yell out a short command to a line cook in Danish. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus catches Jesper working the dining room, while you finish plating two more dishes, ready to be walked out. 

It’s as if you find focus in the center of all the noise, somewhere between the electric energy between you, Mathilde, and your staff, and the feel-good vibes and homeyness of the restaurant that you’ve created. 

You had been more than welcoming when Marcus had walked through the doors of your restaurant, Kokuore, mere hours ago. You’d given him the tour, shown him which station he’d be working this evening, then warmly introduced him to your entire team before family meal started. Marcus can’t stop moving, too afraid to be still in fear of falling apart in the presence of how comforting you’ve been. 

And this? Your kitchen. It’s all joy, connection, and artistry. 

It’s not hard for him to see why Luca fell in love with you. 

“Marcus, feel free to take a break,” he hears you say, as you nod towards the dining room through the open kitchen. 

As Marcus follows your gesture, he notices that Luca’s arrived, remembering something about a standing Saturday date. 

“You sure, chef?” Marcus asks, looking to you for approval. 

“Positive,” you nod, reassuringly.

Marcus nods in return to confirm, before taking his apron off and making his way over to the dining room where Luca is exchanging a few words with Jesper. 

“Wassup, chef,” he greets his mentor. 

“You know, you can call me Luca,” Luca reminds him with a crooked smile. “At least when we’re off the clock.”

Marcus chuckles, “Uh… yeah alright. That’s gonna take some getting used to.” 

Luca chuckles in return, before Jesper shows them to his table, mentioning something about Americans being so afraid of fluidity. 

“She’s brilliant isn’t she?” Luca asks, in reference to you as his eyes catch yours from across the room. 

“Nah for real. Like… mad scientist vibes,” Marcus concurs with a smile. “She can throw down for sure.” He pauses as they sit down at Luca’s table. “So you come every Saturday night, huh?”

“When I can, yeah, which is… most Saturdays,” Luca replies honestly, before beginning to list why he’s kept up this routine. “But it’s nice. Keeps me inspired. I get to see my girl, walk her home at night which makes me feel better.” Luca leans back in his chair this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I never mind helping close down at the end of the night.”

Marcus hums in response before one of the waitstaff comes to their table, with a glass of wine in hand, on the house. They chat for a little longer before Marcus returns to the kitchen, his excitement for what you’re doing here filling him to the brim. 

As dinner service comes to an end, Marcus can’t help but notice the chemistry and how unique it is as you all work together in perfect harmony. There’s a warmth to it, something different, and he begins to understand why the name of the restaurant comes from the word, heart. 

Luca is quick to get up from his table, quickly finishing his glass of wine as he offers to help close down. The music volume goes from underscoring the buzz of a busy night of service, to the main attraction, as a motown throwbacks playlist begins to blare from the speakers. You all work quickly and efficiently, eager to close down, get home, and begin your weekends, but it’s when an old Otis Redding track that Luca decides to put a pause on the progress. 

“Dance with me, my love,” he says, offering his hand out to you as a huge gesture that earns a few looks and giggles from some of your staff. 

“Luca,” you begin to protest, looking around. 

“You can take three minutes,” he offers, exchanging a look with you this time. 

You nod, taking his hand as you agree with, “Okay.”

And as Luca wraps you up in his arms, engaging you in a slow dance to Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong my Love is,” you chuckle, relaxing into him.

“Oh, get a room, you two!” Jesper calls out after you, teasingly. 

“She pretends – always puts up a fight – as if they don’t do this every single week,” Mathilde adds, as an explanation to Marcus. 

“Every week?” Marcus asks, a little surprised by both you and Luca’s willingness to pause and revel in a moment with each other, instead of just pushing through. 

“Yeah. Romantics, they are,” Jesper chimes in. 

Marcus smiles to himself. It’s a reminder of slowness – something he hasn’t let himself experience in a long time – and for just a moment, he lets himself settle into the feeling. 

*

You don’t even mind that you woke up an hour before your alarm the moment you feel Luca’s arms wrapped around you, and his lips against your soft skin. The low rumble of his voice resonates across your shoulders, sending chills down your spine as you arch into his hands, his arms wrapped around you. 

“I know we’re only a few days in… of our little trial,” Luca begins, the bass of his voice reverberating through your shoulder blade.

“Our living together trial?” you clarify with your ask, letting out a gasp as he nibbles on your shoulder gently. 

“Yeah. Just wonderin’ where your mind’s at,” Luca murmurs, his eager hands beginning to explore underneath the oversized shirt you put on before bed last night. 

“Well… I really like this,” you reply, the sound that comes out of your mouth somewhere between a giggle and a moan. 

“Hmmmm?” Luca sounds, innocently. 

“This… Waking up to you thing.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm.”

Luca’s name escapes your lips as his fingers gently begin to play with your nipples, his erection hard against your back as you begin to grind your hips back against. 

“And the access to round the clock sex is really a bonus,” you sigh, blissfully. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks you again, a large tatted hand slipping between your legs. 

“Yeah… I’d even be… interested in leaning into that part… right now,” you hiss in reply to his touch. “Considering you’re distracting me with sex.”

“Hmmmmm. ‘S not just it, love. Have I told you how grateful I am for what you’ve done for Marcus?” Luca asks, his mouth back on your neck. He presses your body against him, your back to his chest as he rocks his hips against yours. 

“Luca!” you protest, unable to focus on the conversation. 

“It’s your kindness. Your heart… I’m in awe of it,” he continues to praise you as the two of you begin to set a rhythm between your bodies. 

It’s all heat, and soft sighs of pleasure, and foreplay.

“Well, I know a little something about what he’s going through,” you answer breathlessly. You begin to impatiently push the hem of your shirt higher so that you can give Luca more access to your body. 

“That’s why I love you,” Luca murmurs into your skin, his hands all over you, his focus unbroken and your mind beginning to go blank. His hands are tearing your shirt over your head as he continues to praise you. “Your heart, the way you share it.”

“You helped me get there, baby,” you gasp, turning your head so that you can kiss your boyfriend. 

Instead of answering, Luca nods knowingly, before crashing his lips into yours. His mouth on yours feels like heaven, and you can’t believe that you ever fought your feelings for him. 

“Ah fuck it. Let’s do it. Let’s move in together,” you surrender to him, lost in the moment. 

“Yeah?” Luca pauses, pulling away, as if almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“Yeah. I mean it, baby,” you nod, catching his gaze, certain in the way you answer. “I wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Me too, my love,” Luca grins, before pressing his lips to yours again. “Now will you please let me fuck you, darling?”

“Fuck yes.”

Luca spends the next hour showing you just how grateful he is for you, while you in return, spend the next hour showing him just how sure you are about this decision. 

And you are sure. If mornings like this are a constant for the rest of your life, you think you’ll die a happy woman. 

You’ve found a home in him, and he, you. He’s the person you want to come home to at the end of the day. He’s the man that puts a smile on your face every single time he gets on his soapbox about how Beyonce is the performer of your lifetimes, and he is unequivocally the best, most unexpected thing in your life. 

Luca Davies, in almost a year of knowing him, and eight months of getting to love him, has somehow become your favorite person. 

By the time you and Luca are both showered and decent-for-company, you’ve begun your mise en place for brunch, completely content with the fact that you’re running a little behind schedule (and in all fairness, the sex was worth it – it’s always worth it). The smell of bacon sizzling away on your carbon steel fry pan fills the entire apartment, and you’re glad that Luca opened a window earlier. It’s not exactly window weather yet, but the air ventilation is a must when it comes to smoked meats.

While you play catch up with your brunch plan, Luca’s busy welcoming Marcus in, pouring him a cup of coffee using the extensive ten-step pour over he’s been fixated on ever since he purchased it, while they chat here and there about what else he’s explored in Denmark. 

“Been too busy working, to be honest but… I don’t know. I might wander around today… see what kind of stuff I can get into,” Marcus answers frankly with a shrug. 

“Ah, mate. We just had a walk at the Frederiksberg Gardens. Definitely something I’d recommend checking out,” Luca suggests, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he mentions it. 

Luca continues moving through his list of recommendations, Marcus chiming in with places and things he did the last time he was here, excited to spend a few days exploring the city instead of just working. 

“Wanderin’ around. I dunno. There’s something about it. ‘S good for the spirit, you know?” Luca concludes. 

“Yeah,” Marcus nods in agreement, before turning his attention over to the French toast you’re working on. “Okay, I see you. What is that? Mascarpone?”

“Yeah, good eye. It’s just something new I’m working on: a mascarpone stuffed french toast. We’re actually talking about extending our hours… maybe doing weekend brunch,” you answer thoroughly, as you dip the stuffed pieces of bread into their egg batter, pre-cook. 

“For real? That’s sick,” Marcus compliments, watching you carefully. “I mean… shit. You could have a whole brunch spot.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your cutting board. 

“A Brunch spot,” Marcus repeats, simply, the excitement in his eyes at the new idea, evident. “Yeah, you know. Luca could do the morning pastries. You work your magic on the rest of the menu.”

“That’s a novel idea! What do you think, my love?” Luca asks, intrigue in his voice as he searches your face for a reaction. 

“I-,” you begin, looking from Luca to Marcus, then back to Luca again. “I… never thought about it like that.” You take a beat, eyeing Luca carefully. “We’ve never talked about going into business together.”

Marcus shrugs, before picking up his coffee mug, “Yo, it’s just a thought. I think you two would be unstoppable together.”

“Unstoppable, eh?” Luca asks, his eyes locked with yours. 

You only hum in response, raising a quirked eyebrow in Luca’s direction before adding:

“It’s certainly one hell of an idea, Marcus.”

Kokuore

Monday afternoon, you find yourself at your restaurant with Marcus Brooks, on a day off. 

“I might need a little extra help with something tomorrow. We’re closed tomorrow, but I want to get ahead on this special I’m working on. Could use the help of a pastry chef. What do you say?” you’d proposed to him, over one more espresso before he left. 

To Luca’s dismay, (“ you silly Americans just can’t enjoy a day of doing nothing,” he’d teased the two of you) Marcus had given you an unwavering yes, reassuring you that he was down to learn everything he possibly could from you, especially while he was here. 

And it’s true. You do need the help. But should he want someone to talk to – someone who gets it, even just a little bit – you want to offer him the space and the opportunity to do so.

“As a patissier, do you get tasked with pasta? At The Bear?” you ask Marcus, as you pleat a dumpling in hand with a speed that only comes with practice. 

“Nah,” Marcus sounds, his focus on the dumpling he’s pleating too. His concentration on getting the pleats right is reverent and unbroken, even as he answers your question. “Our head chef, Carmy, he uh… he comes from an Italian American family so when we’ve done a stuffed pasta… he usually takes the lead on that.” 

You nod in understanding, placing the dumpling you’ve just finished down on the full-sized sheet pan. The two of you sit across from each other, having pushed a few dining tables together as a makeshift workstation. 

“Think Luca’ll take over this kinda stuff when you guys open a restaurant together?” Marcus asks, lightheartedly pushing his agenda from yesterday. 

You laugh in response, your hands working quickly on yet another dumpling. 

“For someone with no skin in the game, you’re really insistent on this idea,” you tease him in return. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” Marcus pushes right back, his tone still light. 

“I…” you sigh, trailing off as you pause your work for a moment. “You know, we just said we’d move in together. That and a restaurant? Feels fast.” 

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Like… a few hours before you came over for brunch,” you elaborate, earning a whistle from Marcus. The two of you exchange a look, and a laugh, as you pick up another dumpling wrapper that you and Marcus rolled out together earlier. 

“It’s a good idea though,” you add, stealing a glance his way so that he knows that you’re serious. 

“Well, when you two inevitably do open a restaurant… I want ten percent,” Marcus jokes, earning another laugh from you. 

“Deal,” you agree with him. 

You and Marcus work like this, exchanging a few words, the conversation light, underscored by a softer acoustic soundtrack from one of your Spotify radio stations.

“So how’d you learn to cook like this?” Marcus asks you curiously. 

“Uh…” you hesitate, treading carefully as you realize this conversation could open a can of worms. 

“I don’t know how much Luca’s told you about me… but I was married… before him,” you begin, cautiously. “And… well, I learned a lot of this… a lot of traditional Japanese cooking from my mother-in-law.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These are her dumplings actually – her recipe. She passed away last Fall and… well, it was important to me to celebrate her – to celebrate her life – by creating a few dishes for her,” you continue, and it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. “We’re bringing this one back as a special this month but um… yeah. I’m… still very much grieving and… it helps me remember her. Cooking her food helps me feel close to her, you know?”

“Yeah,” Marcus sighs, his heart heavy as he exhales. 

He waits a beat. 

And then another, having paused his work as he watches you pleat, head down, with expert hands. 

The silence between you and Marcus is full, heavy, connected by shared experience. You wait for Marcus to say something, and when he doesn’t, you decide to continue. 

“This restaurant… has so much of my heart in it: it’s got my love for Italian food from growing up in my best friend’s family’s restaurant, and it’s got my love for her – for Aiko – and everything she taught me,” you begin to explain. “And lately… it’s got a fresh perspective… inspired by the love I have with Luca, I think. Well, I know. Inspired by him… how this place brought us together.”

“The name itself is… totally made up, but means a lot to me. The Japanese word for heart is, kokoro, and the Italian word for heart is, cuore. Somehow an homage to my past… and was… Prophetic in so many ways too.” 

As Marcus listens, Luca’s previous question lingers in his head:

How’s your heart?

At the time he didn’t know how to answer, and after five days in Copenhagen – after five days of doing what he loves in a place that he loves – his heart is somehow so full, yet so broken all at once. He’s filled with deep sorrow and with the spark of creativity all at the same time, and he’s just not sure how to hold all of this feeling inside of him. 

Marcus waits a beat, opens his mouth, then lets the words fall out. 

“It’s evident. In your food,” is all he manages to say. “It’s got soul. It’s got heart. I-, it’s inspiring. That’s for sure.” 

“I made a dish. For Michael,” Marcus adds, his eyes on the dumpling he works on, but the guard on his heart beginning to fall away. “He was uh… well, he was the old owner of the restaurant, called The Beef back then. Carmy took over after he died. Felt right to honor him and his life, you know? When we reopened as The Bear.”

“Food is… it’s our art, you know?” you agree. “Sometimes it’s the only way I know how to express myself and… sometimes it’s just the thing that makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

A beat. 

“Maybe one day I can make one for my mom,” Marcus says, his voice stuck in his throat as he admits, “I don’t know if I’m ready yet. But I think… I think I’d like to eventually.” 

“Of course,” you reassure him gently. “You don’t have to be ready now. You don’t have to be ready ever. But when you are, your art will always be there.” 

“Thanks,” Marcus nods solemnly. 

You get up this time, realizing the sheet pan is full, and ready to be placed on the baker’s rack. As you return to the table with a new empty sheet pan, lined with parchment paper, Marcus finally asks you, his eyes soft, the heartbreak in them present. 

“How’d you get through? You know. Losing her? Your mother-in-law?” 

You return to your chair with a heavy sigh. 

“I’ll let you know when I do,” you answer, letting up a soft chuckle. “It helps to have good people and… from what Luca’s told me, you do. But… I had to let ‘em in, let ‘em help me. Let ‘em love me. And in all honesty, most days I’m still just… taking it day by day.” 

“Yeah, I-. I do. I got some really good people. Back home,” Marcus drags out slowly. 

“Then that’s all that matters. Your people and your heart. The rest… you just-,” you start. 

“Take day by day?” Marcus interjects, pausing to catch your eyes. 

You and Marcus exchange a knowing look, the recognition of each others’ pain is met with empathy. 

“Yeah. I think that's all we can do.”

By the end of your work session with Marcus, you’re ready to head home so that you can spend the rest of the day with Luca. 

“What’re you gonna do with the rest of your day?” you ask Marcus, curiously. 

With a sigh, and then a shrug, and a heart that feels just a little lighter, he answers with:

“Think I might wander around a bit. Someone once told me it’s good for the spirit.”

[wilbursprincess]

okay NOWWWW we need to see Wilbur’s proposal! i know a lot of people have written about how he’d have this big proposal in front of everyone at a lovejoy concert but I personally think that it would be more intimate and well thought out. he’d subtly be dropping hints like asking you to get your nails done, wearing your nicest dress for dinner. after dinner he’d take you back to the beach that you guys go to all the time to watch the sunset. he’s been visibly nervous all week, but more so tonight. his plans are sweaty, he’s constantly checking his pocket (probably to make sure that he hasn’t lost the ring lmao) but your blissfully unaware as always. he asks you to go to the car to see if his wallet is there (it’s not) and when your come back he’s DOWN ON ONE FRIGGIN KNEE.

Wilbur Proposing To You!

Wilbur Soot x Female Reader

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff with one teeny little suggestive line at the end!

Vaguely a prequel to this post about planning a wedding with Wilbur!

OMG ANON IM CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP I NEED HIM I WANT THIS TO BE ME so i’ll just write it teehee

Headcannons below cut!

~He’d be so nervous, planning it out for weeks.

~Knows you don’t want a massive spectacle, so decides against doing it at a gig.

~Asks Molly to invite you on a nail salon & coffee outing the day before, hoping her ‘idea’ would make you less suspicious.

~”Baby, you should wear that pretty dress I got you last Christmas for dinner tonight. You haven’t worn it in ages, and it looks stunning on you.”

~Hopes you can’t see how nervous he’s been for this proposal, or even all week.

~The plan is a beach walk after dinner, Wilbur planning to pop the question when you reach a secluded spot on the beach.

~Dinner passes without a hitch, the two of you still giggling and flirting like the first date all over again.

~If Wilbur didn’t know it before, he knew now just how much he loved you.

~He loved you so much that he almost teared up, looking at your gorgeous face as you smiled at him and squeezed his hand over the table.

~You two alternate who pays when you go out, and this time, it’s your turn, something Wilbur’s using as part of his proposal plan.

~”Since you payed for dinner, I’ll pay for ice cream from that booth if you want some?” He offers casually, and you nod happily.

~Wilbur pats his pockets. “That is, if you get my wallet? I think I left it in the car.”

~You laugh, kissing him on the cheek and teasing him about being scatterbrained before headed to the car.

~For what must be the thousandth time that night, he checks for the ring box.

~Still there. Just like the previous 999 times he checked.

~”Will, your wallet wasn’t in the ca-“

~He’s down on one knee, diamond glinting in the silk box in the evening air.

~”Will you make me the happiest man alive and ma-“

~Can’t even get the words out before you frantically nod, wrapping him in a tight hug and practically kissing his lips off.

~”You asked Molly to take me for nails for this, I can tell,” you tease, admiring the gorgeous ring on your finger.

~You two head back home for a cozy night in, the only thing on is the radio.

[saw2goth]

Tell me about your version of hyde. I want to hear all about the critter, please,,,

Here is a list of things because I don't want to be writing massive paragraphs lawl:

- Transman & bisexual, in an open relationship

- Not very aware of his surroundings and can often find himself bumping into things/people and getting into fights unless he's alert

- When he's alert his eyes go wide like an owl O_O which usually happens when he's startled or caught off guard. When he's on edge like this he can lash out.

- Loves to party, get shitfaced and meet new people he otherwise wouldn't mingle with in his regular life. He uses Hyde as an excuse to keep both of his social circles separate, but will occasionally drop hints in the hopes that Utterson will catch onto him somehow.

- Was genuinely hurt when Utterson didn't recognise him at first.

- Will act out harshly when he's upset or offended. He has an avoidant personality so he's usually the first to lash out at someone close to him if he thinks he's going to lose them anyway. As Jekyll he is usually left to deal with the aftermath of that, but will further isolate himself anyway if things get too much.

- The serum makes him sick. It takes a huge toll on his body, usually the mornings after when he transforms back. He has a lot of chronic pain which is why Hyde still has to use his cane despite being smaller and younger looking.

- Transformation is extremely painful for him but the euphoria he experiences after the fact is one of the things that keeps drawing Jekyll back besides the freedom he also gets from it.

- Very blunt. Kind of an asshole even. Depending on the situation he can usually play things his way if he needs to be polite to get himself out of trouble but if it's not a dire situation he will just tell you where to stick it.

- Type of guy to get up behind you and smash your head into your food just for a laugh tbh

- Danvers was the only guy he ever directly killed and I will die clutching onto this headcanon after being shot with hundreds of arrows

Uhhrm,,, this is all I have right now but thank you for asking about him!!!!! <3 I love him a lot can you tell. He's nothing like the book counterpart of course, but he's also not trying to be a direct adaptation. I'm actively crossing over all of my gothlit interps so a lot of changes have been made (for example; a handful of us have just collectively decided Henry Jekyll was childhood friends with Ebenezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol and Wolfe MacFarlane from The Body Snatcher LMAOO). In my Hyde lives AU, Hyde has an encounter with Ebenezer years after they had initially drifted apart before either of them even remember who the other is. It's only until Jekyll gets back in contact with him that he realises they had reunited a lot sooner than he thought and he goes hm. Oops. I probably wasn't the nicest to him. Should probably make amends for that. 🧍 ANYWAY I DID END UP WRITING A PARAGRAPH OOPS???? SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE LASKMDKGM

[sweetheartmotives]

ᯓ★𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓰 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷ᯓ★

≻─────────────‎˚₊‧𖥔୨🤞•🐲୧𖥔‧₊˚─────────────≺

⋆₊ ⊹★More about the author⋆₊ ⊹★

Hello, and welcome to my blog! My name is SweetheartMotives but you can call me sweetheart for short. Some information about me is that I'm 13, I go by he/him, and I enjoy characters like Madoka Kaname from Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Gojo Satoru from Jujutsu Kaisen. ^_^

≻─────────────‎ ⋆₊ ⊹★🐒★⊹ ₊⋆ ─────────────≺

✶⋆.˚More about my blog˚.⋆✶

I mainly write yandere oc content, ranging from fluffy, smutty, or angsty fics. If you're uncomfortable with this type of content feel free to step away from my blog ^_^ But if you enjoy this type of content, woohoo! Me too! Drop by and say Hello, my inbox is always open! (≧▽≦)

Oh, and speaking of my inbox, my inbox is almost always open! Sometimes it's closed for long periods but that's because I get burned out super quickly 😭 But whenever my requests are open, feel free to drop an idea or request for a new or current yan! (,,>ヮ<,,)!

[Pssst! Side note: I do not condone irl Yandere behavior, this is all silly writing I do for funsies and your guys' enjoyment!]

≻───────────── ˚₊‧꒰ა 🛩 ໒꒱‧₊˚ ─────────────≺

˗ˏˋ ★ <My and this blog's opps> ★ ˎˊ˗

@arcadephantom [Boob guy], @yxamilover420 [Patrik], @woahbuckroo [lex], Gege Akutami, and adult writers who write smut abt minors and say MDNI.

This was a special section dedicated to Patrik but now he is my spouse. If you're on here then you are a massive issue and should jump off a speeding rocket going 280000000mph per minute!! (〃´▽`)

≻───────────── ⋆⭒「♡」⭒⋆ ─────────────≺

★⭑My Rules!⭑★

I know I know, blehhhh, rules!! But they're important so please read them!

Firstly, if you support or participate in, homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, pedophilia, zoophilia, proshipping, incest, stepcest, and age-play, please DNI! I am uncomfortable with those things and they are not welcome here. Secondly, Before you request, check my wills and wonts for writing! I may not write for what you are looking for and I do apologize for that. Lastly, please be patient with me.

≻──────────── 𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🍬˖  ๋࣭ 𓏲 ─────────────≺

⟡˙⋆ What I will and won't write ⋆˙⟡

What I will write: Yanderes of any gender and sexuality, reader of any gender and sexuality, angst fics, smut fics, Platonic fics, and fluffy fics. I'll write most things so get creative! :]

What I won't write: Incest/stepcest, smut that has anything included with body fluids like pee or period blood, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, torture, non-con, urine or feces in general, pedophilia, age play, cuckolding, public sex, stuff to do with feet, and PREGNANCY FETISHES!! I WILL NOT WRITE SEXUAL STUFF THAT HAS TO DO WITH PREGNANT PEOPLE !!

≻────────────── ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ──────────────≺

☆๑◇Masterlist◇๑☆

Micah, The yan Bartender:

First Appearance Pt.1

Jaakobah, Evil Yan Cupid!:

First Appearance

Harper, The yan Eagle Hybrid:

First Appearance

Damian, The yan deep diver:

First Appearance pt.1

Taiyō, the Yandere Cafe Host:

First Appearance Pt.1

Yumako, The yan magical girl:

First Appearance improved fic

Isla, the Platonic!Yandere witch:

First Appearance

Kaan, the yan vampire:

First Appearance Pt.1 Pt.2

Tomen, the Clumsy Yandere:

First Appearance pt 1

Kaden, the yan Stalker:

First Appearance pt.1

Apollo, the Yandere Otter Hybrid:

First Appearance

Yandere Arctic Fox Hybrid:

First Appearance

Yandere prince:

First Appearance

Semi-truck

Holiday specials:

Christmas, Valentine's Day,

Enjoy my yan oc dumps!

≻────────────‎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖[☕️].𖥔 ݁ ˖ ────────────≺

☆ミAnons!☆ミ

🍮 anon, 🍀 anon, 🍯 anon, 🍓 anon, 🪷 anon, 💥🌈anon, 🌟 anon, Kraken anon,

≻─────────────── ✮⋆˙˙⋆✮ ────────────────≺

Side notes:

I am no longer a writer for yans, sorry!! (；´_ゝ`)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[rottingraisins]

could you recommend me some (any and all) scp fics to put on my to read list? im trying to get back into the fandom after not really keeping up with it for a while and now i cant fund anything that isn’t incredibly confusing or like 7 years old

also. the way you draw meri is absolutely gorgeous shes so fluffy

First of all thank u i love deer woman hehe! 2nd of all by god I sat on this for over 3 months bc, like, see, the thing about scp is that the line between fanfic and canon might as well not exist. I sincerely recommend that if youre trying to get back into it you start with the actual site itself bc most of the good writers who are into scp are just straight up on there.

However (!) there’s still a handful of offsite scp writing deemed “too soft” for the site or written by someone unwilling to engage with the wikis greenlighting process (which I respect massively, same hat) that im very fond of that I put under the cut 4 you. I hope you find something you like in there!

Peanut Butter Cookies by bandtrees

Possibly my favorite SCP fanfic on all of AO3. Follows Troy Lament during the events of In His Own Image, but with a few more glimpses into his private life and inner workings than he is afforded on the wiki. Also features some really charming appearances from miscellaneous senior staff, most prominently Agatha Rights. An examination of what it would actually be like to work for the Foundation, especially under one of its old legends, carried by very real-feeling character interactions.

the delicate art of sleeping through the night by thefriendlyvandal

I feel like everyone already knows about this one but it deserves to go here anyway by virtue of making me so thoroughly unwell (in the very best of ways). Clef/Kondraki fic taking place in the same universe as SCP-4231, and in fact written by the same guy. Perpetually unfinished, but what's there is enough to tear my heart out thrice over. Those old men can be so doomed.

The First Year by existentialterror

Arguably not fanfic at all by virtue of being written by Light's author, but it fits the above-mentioned criteria of being offsite writing that I think is really underrated. Light and her assistant Vaux's first Christmas at their newly acquired Site up in Scandinavia where they look at ghosts and contemplate the past and the Foundation and their place within it. Wonderful little character study and full of the humanity that authorlight imbues all of her writing with

Then and Now by bondsmagii

In the same weird not-really-fanfic-limbo as the above Light story since it's written by authorkondraki, but who cares. Set in the same universe as Quiet Days, Kondraki and his twin sister explore the ruins of Site-17 some few years after the end. A bit hammy, but I think about it a lot.

feathers and lonely cells by Nacho

Iris angst set in the Devils Advocate canon but not necessarily requiring having read it to understand what's going on. Wingfic, which I didn't know was like, a whole thing, before stumbling across it but it sure does take the concept of "people having wings" places. Ongoing, I'm acquainted with the author and they're planning on continuing it!

Also I fail to pick just one but I think everyone should check out my friend John @handsome-john's entire ao3 gallery he is such a skilled writer and I think everyone should clap and cheer for him. Known on this blog mostly for Mann/Kondraki cannibalism yaoi so far but he's been letting me peep his works in progress and he's dropping some massive bangers soon it looks like. Haha John you are on my tumblr blog

[dolly-macabre]

❄Winter Wonderklok Day 2❄

❄Baking Cookies❄

Figured I'd write a little bonding between Dolly and one of the moms!

Dolly taps her manicured black nails against the kitchen counter. Ever since the band’s moms had shown up at Mordhaus, she’s been on edge. They'd pretty much taken things over with the decorating, which Dolly had willingly volunteered to do long before she'd known they would be coming. This would be her second Christmas living at Mordhaus, and she was just finally starting to get back into the spirit. Last Christmas was the first one without Jade, so it didn't really feel fun or festive. This year Toki is overly excited, out shopping for the rest of the boys while Murderface and Knubbler are working on some kind of brutal Christmas special. Even if the rest of the boys were being grinches, it almost felt like home this time. She and Pickles even wore matching Christmas sweaters! But now that she's stuck with the moms decorating Mordhaus, she feels drained, missing her Christmases back in Wisconsin and how special they were. When she’s told to find Rose Explosion and help her with cookies in the kitchen, she mumbles and does what she's told. Their goal was to bake enough cookies that the mothers would be bringing leftovers home for the rest of their families. Which gave Dolly a dastardly idea. After a quick pit stop to her bathroom for what she needed, she made her way to the massive kitchen. 

Dolly kept quiet at first, going through the motions. She didn't dislike Rose, but she honestly didn't feel very great about how close all the mothers were with Molly. The last time she'd seen that awful woman was less than pleasant. That whole wedding had been a nightmare. 

“What's bothering you, dear?” Rose asked. “Am I taking up all the fun?”

Mother's sure do know when something's off, don't they? Dolly's mother was also very perceptive to these things when she was a young girl.

“No, Mrs. Explosion, I-”

“Oh, you can just call me Rose, dear!”

“No, Rose…” Calling her by her first name felt kinda wrong. It went against how her parents had raised her. “I just… I got a lot on my mind, y'know?”

“You must miss home,” Rose said, sympathy in her tone. 

“I mean, yeah. But there's nothing left to go home to… My home is here now, and I'm just gonna have to adjust to things being… Well… So different.”

“Feeling sentimental about the past, huh?” Rose hands her a cookie dough scoop which she takes, dropping balls of cookie dough onto stiff parchment paper, “Tis the season, I suppose!”

“Yeah. Actually, me and Jade used to make all the cookies for the family, up until she just couldn't do it anymore… Once she passed, Christmas just didn't feel right.”

“Oh, yes… Molly told me about that.” 

Of course, that big mouth was talking about her family to the other mothers. Dolly rolls her eyes. 

“Well, she should keep her mouth shut,” Dolly grumbles as more dough drops from her scoop. 

“Dahlia! That's not very kind of you to say.”

“I really don't care. She's never done anything for me. She hated my family.”

“Is that so?” Rose looks concerned. 

“Yeah. The last time I saw her was at Seth's stupid wedding, and that whole family found a way to make mine and Pickles’s lives a living hell in just forty-eight hours, but especially Molly…”

Rose is listening intently. 

“I know she just seems like another mom to you guys but the things she said to me that day were unforgivable.”

“That bad?”

Dolly gives Rose a very disgruntled look. 

“That bad,” Rose echoes. She grimaces. “I know she seems stern, but she's just looking out for her family–”

“She told me that she wished I died the day I tried to kill myself…”

“She what?”

“Yeah, she thinks I have some sort of hold on her son and thinks I'm the reason he became such a bad apple.”

“That is no excuse! Good God! You're obviously a sweet and caring woman… I wish my Nathan could find one like you!”

Dolly chuckles as she sets a couple of pans into the preheated oven. 

“Thanks, Rose. That really means a lot to me. I feel like I've been walking on eggshells since she got here.”

“Well, this next batch is going to be for their family,” Rose said, stirring up some sugar cookie dough. 

“Oh, yeah?” Dolly lifts an eyebrow.

How convenient… 

Rose turns her back to watch the ridiculous Christmas special that had gone live about ten minutes ago. It was far from brutal like Murderface had promised. It even pandered to Christianity. 

Nathan's probably pissed.

Without missing a beat, Nathan yells from across Mordhaus. “Murderface!” 

Called it.

She begins to stir up the chocolate chip dough, using her other hand to reach into her pocket. She pulls out some Exlax chocolates in a plastic baggie, crushing them into smaller chunks with just her free hand. As she sets down the wooden spoon, she sprinkles the chocolates in with the chocolate chips. 

Enjoy shitting your pants, dickheads. 

“And just what do you think you're doing, missy?” Rose crosses her arms across her chest, a small smirk showing that she isn't too concerned. 

“Just paying the good tidings forward!”

Rose spots the discarded baggie with the Exlax package visible. 

“Dolly!” she exclaims, but then lets out a small chuckle, “I won't speak a word of it. Promise.”

Dolly beams ear to ear, “Ya know, Jade and ma would've liked you. I'm certain of it!”

“They sound like wonderful ladies. I'm honored!”

With that, Rose and Dolly finish dropping the dough onto pans and slide them in the oven. 

“You know, you're pretty handy in the kitchen!” Rose says as they start to clean up the mess. 

Dolly lets out a hearty laugh, “Only when it comes to baking… I'm a worthless cook! Thanks for making this fun. I'm not having that terrible of a time!”

“Good to hear it! You just need family to talk to and you're part of our family now, whether you like it or not!”

A small laugh puffs from Dolly's nose, “Is that a threat?”

“And a promise!”

Just then a ping came from Rose's pocket. She opens her phone and a mischievous smile crosses her face. 

“The ladies found where they've been hiding the booze from us. You wanna have a drink?”

“More than anything!” Dolly exclaims, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “We should just crash that lame Christmas special!”

“Good idea! Let's go spread some Christmas cheer, girly!” Her strong hand slaps down on Dolly's shoulder as a show of comradery. 

“Right behind ya Rose!”

[jasecretsanta]

Welcome to the JA Holiday Prompt-A-Thon!

Overnight a mysterious tree appeared in the Jones' household, decked in pairings and tropes...

...along with those goodies a massive pile of presents sits beneath the tree...

...and atop the presents is a note:

GIFTS ARE DUE DECEMBER 23rd!

Non-image instructions are below the Read More. Everyone have a good time and drop an ask in my box if you have any questions! :)

Directions: Choose one of each (a pairing, trope, and prompt) to combine and create a gift for the fandom! All gifts should be posted to your blogs sometime on December 23rd and I will reblog them!

Pairing Choices

Gen

Balem/Jupiter

Caine/Stinger

Jupiter/Caine

Your Choice

Genres/Tropes Choices

Fluff

H/C

Crossover

Angst

One Bed

AU

Mutual Pining

Coffee Shop

Time Travel

Enemies to Lovers

PWP

Songfic

ABO

First Time

Fake Dating

Fuck or Die

Prompt Choices

Someone spiked the hot chocolate

Gift gone (wonderfully?) wrong

Meeting the family

Midnight kiss

Frozen from the snow

Matching sweaters

"You invited WHO to dinner??"

Holiday secrets

Anonymous candy cane-grams

Naughty AND nice

Ice skate meet cute

Making gingerbread houses (spaceships??)

"Yes, it's an Abrasax tradition for members of the royal family to ______"

Holiday miracle

"All I want for Christmas is you :) Lol JK I actually want _____"

All alone for the holidays (or are you?)

Dealer's choice (AKA holiday or non-holiday prompt of your choosing!)

The Poem

Warm holiday wishes upon you all

Tis the season to create—craft, write, and draw!

Upon the tree sit many a prompt;

A wealth of ideas for you to adopt.

Your task? To choose a pairing first—

—or keep it gen if romance is the worst.

Next a trope, genre, cliche

Some intricate conflict to add to the fray.

Now open a present and see what's inside:

A holiday prompt to act as your guide.

Keep the spirit alive by including all three

Or don't—that's really not up to me!

In the end you must only follow Rule One

"The JA Holidays must be lots of fun!"

~Clyde, the Holiday Turtle

[fezwearingjellybananas]

talk shop tuesday - do you have any fic ideas you want to write but just haven't gotten around to yet?

So many. That's actually why the AU Snippets series was started, I kept having like one scene of a fic and liked it but didn't have enough time to write the rest.

But yeah, there's part of a Cynco Little Mermaid (kind of) AU that's at a quick glance been in my notes since 2018. A probably Snowest Snow White AU. An originally Thallen now Westhallen Frog Prince AU (that one I really do want to write) (This was after writing a couple of other fairytale AUs and thinking of how to play around with them).

I kind of want to go back to Bluff Check and Altomcumulus Castellanus and write sequels but haven't sat down and thought about them enough yet.

There's the much more recently noted down barely there yet and deliberately not written yet note for an honestly probably crack fic titled "Batman: A Pantomime by the Gotham Amateur Dramatics Society" which will be a series of e-mails of the behind the scenes utter chaos as the director and script writer get visited by half of Gothams villains and half its heroes (also Superman) all weighing in their input (this is deliberately waiting until closer to Christmas, and for me to read some Golden/Silver Age Batman because I think that's the vibe I want to go for for Gotham.)

Apparently I noted down a Julia/Magnus Adventure Zone role reversal in 2019 where instead of razing Raven's Roost Kalen kidnaps Magnus and Julia goes around meeting the rest of the gang through various (mis)adventures, and the first half of the notes are really detailed and the second after I drop the joke I wrote the whole thing to make are just "and then they all save the day the end" so I was thinking I should just scrap that one but actually maybe I should just write the scene with the joke and stick that in the AU Snippets folder.

And I have a one sentence note that just says "how does Bart Allen find shoes" but that's not so much a plotted idea and more Bart has massive feet and I need his secrets to shoe finding because the women's section stops one size below mine and apparently most of the men's starts one size above and I spent three days working in broken shoes until I could go to Brighton and found one single pair of mens shoes that would fit and are black and now these are also breaking and I'm going to cry if I have to go buy new shoes. I'm just going to gaffa tape them

Anyway

There's just so much to write and not enough time to write it all.

Thank you!

[Talk Shop Tuesday]

[existslikepristin]

Well, I definitely got too busy to finish Kinktober. So I decided to write something else which is a little shorter, but very much in the *coughcough* spirit of the impending holiday. Thanks to my editor, who is anonymous due to being shy, but I want you all to know this was well-edited!

This is a... let's call it "special" story, definitely not as light-hearted as my Christmas special. For greatest effect, I recommend waiting until Halloween to read it, reading it in a dark environment, and reading it slowly, as some of the horror is a bit lost when read quickly in my opinion (don't worry, it's not very long). Or you can just read it now, or after Halloween, idgaf

Tags: TheLounge, NSFW, Pixy, Lola, Gender-Unspecified reader insert, good mouth stuff, very very bad mouth stuff, my editor has advised me to include the trigger warning "extremely scary" even though I thought it was mildly frightening at best, hand stuff, very questionable consent, it's a holiday, idk how to tag the horror parts my dudes so good luck with that

Summon

“That special time of year,” they call it. “When the veil between worlds is its thinnest, and spirits roam,” they say.

Who are they?

What do they know?

They don't know what you are.

They don't know enough.

They didn't.

Lola giggles as you kiss her neck. You love it when she bites her lip.

“Hey, you! That’s naughty!” Lola slaps your hand, just hard enough to let you know you are supposed to keep lifting her skirt.

You jump when Lola tickles your sides. Her sexy lip bite becomes a mischievous grin. You retaliate by wrapping your arms around her and squeezing. She never fights a tight hug.

The distant, pounding bass is still keeping your hearts in sync. Her giggles turn into a contented sigh. You’re dancing around her.

“Am I not supposed to be naughty?” you ask, licking your teeth like the imp you’re dressed up as.

Lola’s bunny costume somehow got ripped, so she’s a hastily-constructed witch… cultist… wizard, perhaps? “That’s up to you, but if you’re too naughty I might have to put a love stake through your heart.” And thus, she settles on vampire hunter. It feels a bit late to decide what one’s jacket and hat and wig represent after the alcohol from multiple drinks has nearly worn away, but you don't especially care.

“Love stake? Yesterday you said you’d ‘slam dunk’ my heart.”

“Awww!” Lola buries her cheek into her shoulder, but she can’t hide the corners of her mouth creeping up around her pout. “Too soon! I was so ready to jam in that costume… You should make me feel better.”

“Uh oh. Do I need to kiss your boo boo?”

“No, this jacket is too stiff to take off right now, but you can kiss them later. Kiss my hoo hoo instead.”

“Holy shit you’re embarrassing.” You lightly shove her shoulder, which she greatly exaggerates. She whirls around, groans like she’s in a melodramatic death scene, and fake-collapses back against a massive oak tree. The act is dumb, but she lifts her skirt all the way up. How nice of her not to wear underwear to the party. She must have known you’d get a little peckish for a midnight snack.

The ground is uneven, so she towers over you as you drop to your knees between roots. You’d compare her to the tree itself, but she’s more of a willow.

You know Lola and you know the routine. She’s a simple woman in most matters, and enjoys a tongue-y kiss to the hoo hoo (and clitoris). Her enormous smile could reflect the moonlight to illuminate the forest if the moon wasn’t slacking off. What kind of moon could only give forty-one percent waxing effort on Halloween?

“Yes! Yes, that’s great! Keep going!” Lola drops the transparently thin veil of subtlety. Part of you is grateful that her little voice doesn’t match her big stature, otherwise the other party-goers might hear her over the roar of the bonfire and the music and know what you’re up to. The other part of you—the majority—doesn’t give a damn. They could watch, for all you care.

Lola’s eyes flutter and she slides downward, a tiny bit at a time, as she loses her footing in the loose, cool, moist soil. The hilarity of her leather jacket squeaking against oak bark makes up for the annoyance of having to scoot back on your knees every few seconds. Eventually her ass and your chin simultaneously meet the moss around the tree’s base. You glance up to see that her jacket is hiked up to reveal her belly button and her wide-brimmed hat and wig are askew, revealing her tightly pulled back, faded pastel purple hair. Lola, as usual, is a little too lost in her hoo hoo-licked bliss to care about adjusting her outfit. You can only assume Van Helsing would be proud. Or ashamed. Nobody cares. That guy’s dead or not real.

“Oooh!” she coos. “Fuck!” she cusses. “Yes, gimmee!” she cums.

You hold Lola’s thighs tight and enjoy her shuddering, sputtering, and gutteral groaning. Tiny words of praise, affection, and joy slurry together with just a hint of skittle vodka breath (lemon, specifically) and more than a hint of fun-size chocolate bars.

When her body relaxes, you push yourself onto your hands and knees. “Happy now?”

“Mmmhm!” Eyes closed, she gives you a sleepy smile and droops deeper in between the roots.

You stand up. You fully intend to get back down and cuddle Lola for a bit, but moments ago you were forced into an awkward position on the ground and you need a good stretch. You turn around, arms up, and gaze between the stars. The moon may not be full, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a beautiful, crisp night. The stars wink at you, and you wink back, all parties coyly acknowledging the light-hearted raunch that just occurred.

Then you get a strange feeling. Why is it so quiet? Is the party over already? Did they turn the music off?

Curious, but unphased, you turn back around to look at Lola, but your line of sight is blocked by a black pillar. You stumble back a step from the sudden closeness of it, only to quickly realize it’s Lola.

You clutch your chest over your heart and sigh. She’d managed to stand up without stepping on a single crunchy leaf. That was a damn good fright, and you’re about to tell her so.

Then you see her eyes.

Her eyes are white. Not rolled back so you can’t see the color. Just white. Pale white.

She’s shuddering more violently than she was during her orgasm moments ago, but is otherwise standing still, arms to her sides, staring roughly at your chest.

You open your mouth to ask Lola what’s going on, but she opens hers too. Her neck contracts and her tongue pulls back, but not a sound escapes. Dead silence surrounds you, but you hear your own heartbeat, and your own, frantic breath.

In a snap, Lola’s hands are on your arms. It’s more than just her strength pushing you back. For a moment your feet don’t touch the ground, but you don’t fall when you come to a sudden stop, shoulders pressed up against another tree.

Lola is in front of you again. You didn’t see her move. Her eyes may be blank white slates, but you know she’s looking into yours. It’s a deep knowledge. The endless wastes twist you.

It’s too much. You try to push Lola back, but your arms pass through her torso like it’s scalding hot tar. You open your mouth to scream at the pain and your voice is more. Thousands, legions, all as one; you. It won’t stop. You see you and your lives, or what passes for life. A crawling mass of flesh with primordial mind crunched over and over by the jaws of another, larger mass which is itself eaten by infinite desires both lovely and sickening. Horrible things slither over themselves like snakes peeling themselves to shreds and you swim through them. Join them, rage and love in madness. Your mouth won’t close. It’s all you can do to pull your arms from the sludge to cover it. All sound fades as the void batters your fingers to escape your throat.

You weep with joy to see the monstrous Lola pressing her hand against your stomach and down into your pants, because everything else is real, both the silent forest and the damnation you’ve witnessed beyond it.

Lola’s touch brings disgusting pleasure that you can’t escape from. Her blank stare keeps you paralyzed, so you must watch as her mouth closes and her lips slowly creep up. When she smiles, tension suddenly builds inside you. What little reason is left in your mind tells you that it’s the end. If you don’t become what Lola has become, you will be thrown into the unknowable again to rot until the end of time if such a mercy will ever exist. 

Your climax is anticlimactic, all things considered. Your muscles clench and you soak Lola’s hand. Of all things, it’s the simplicity of the orgasm that returns you to the physical realm and throws your arms down so that you can scream. Only one voice, this time. It’s met with the bouncing rhythm of far-off music.

Lola breaks away from you and steps back, the smile still etched beneath her pale eyes. But the smile drops immediately, and she looks confused. Her eyes quiver and the color fades back into them. She pants heavily, begins to flail, and frantically gropes in every direction until she stumbles into a branch, which she grapples and holds on to as if she’s hanging from a cliff.

“Lo—” you test, “Lola?”

She stares at you. Tears stream down her otherwise motionless face.

“What happened?” you ask before deciding she probably has no more of an answer than you do. “Are you okay?”

Lola gulps and her crying stops. She still looks nervous, as she gives you a forty-one percent waxing smile. “Yeah… I’m fine. I think I’m just a little more tipsy than I thought.”

“T-tipsy?”

She nods, and glances down at her hand, covered in your cum and visibly shaking. “Yeah.” She steps away from the tree branch and cradles the hand in the opposite elbow for a moment. “Tipsy.”

The two of you stand in uncomfortable not-quite silence. You wonder if she saw what you did. Heard what you heard. You can’t help but flinch when she moves in your direction.

“I’m g-getting cold,” she says, taking your hand in her dry one, “Let’s go back to the fire.”

You let her pull you tightly against her side, and the two of you walk back slowly to where your friends await.

.

.

.

That was the end of the story, so... Happy Halloween, nerds!

[andiwriteordie]

Your entire following needs to know how much I appreciated the subtle jokes in your most recent fic and also I feel it is my duty to clog the timeline

-the reference to Millie’s interview when she said Finn was a bad kisser: impeccable. *chefs kiss*

- Nancy plugging Do Revenge because I require a Maya Hawkeverse crossover

-THE COSTUMES ANDI I CANT EVEN thank you for making my day that little bit better

-ALSO ALSO the pairings that Holly chose she’s a little bit evil and I love her for that

The substantial improvement this has made on my general well-being is unmatched. As much the same as Mike I set to make this my entire personality

Anyways merry Christmas Andi!!! Thank you for these absolute gifts of fics you have bestowed upon us

HAHAHAHAHA YAY!!!! oh my god i am glad somebody caught those!!!

listen here's the thing all of you should know about my fics: i went to the taylor swift school for easter eggs and references. some of them are more obvious than others (aka this one where holly name-dropped like tons of different references), but some of them are just little things i think are funny or clever. :)

i am now going to reply back to your bullet points bc i am a Massive Nerd who loves talking

THE KISS YES LITERALLY THAT INTERVIEW LIVES RENT FREE IN MY BRAIN. also i have been writing el as a lesbian in my recent fics, so i love the idea of her teasing her best friend years after they've dated and being like "i wish i had never kissed you"

fun fact: the latter half of this story was inspired by the scheming in do revenge! i was originally going to have it be a big twist at the end that all of this had been purposeful, but it was difficult with it being holly's pov. so i just leaned into her being a little mastermind. :)

LISTEN THE BLOCK PARTY SCENE IS MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS WHOLE FIC

THE PAIRINGS!!! thank you to everyone who replied back to the og idea of this fic, because i for sure took people's suggestions for it lol

ahhh i'm so glad you enjoyed it!!! thank you so much for sending this ask and for making my night!!! merry christmas to you as well!!!

more fics coming soon :) (everyone cheered, including me. i'm on vacation for the next 2 weeks, and i didn't end up traveling anywhere for christmas, so i have SO MUCH FREE TIME TO WRITE)

[i-am-still-bb]

Deano Bingo 2022 - General Prompts Card - “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

DarkHawk, T

Despite the Winter Winds series (Tumblr / Ao3)

Length: 3,803

--

A/N: The series itself has some inconsistencies and repetitions. I have not been keeping good notes on it. I should fix those one of these days.

There is a planned second part to this that will be rated E if I can get my brain and fingers to write some sexiness.

--

Read on Ao3

--

New York, 1966

The hotel for the UN’s peace dinner was over the top. Ross had never seen anything like it. He could see almost all of New York City from his bedroom window. There were lights as far as the eye could see, and the snow twinkled as it fell. He could not remember the last time that he had thought of Russian snow as twinkling. Usually it just gleamed dully and piled up in corners only to melt, refreeze, and make you slip when you were least expecting it. Or it would simply melt and get your socks wet. It would also build up on the bottoms of your shoes until you had to stop and scrape it off or risk falling flat on your face.

Ross had been downstairs earlier to see everything. The floors were polished within an inch of their lives, Ross could easily see his reflection in them, and there was a massive American and a gargantuan Soviet flag framing the entrance into the ballroom. Soon it would be filled with men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns. Then they would eat and make small talk all while pretending like their countries were not trying to steal each other’s secrets while preparing for mutually assured destruction with hydrogen bombs should one of them look at the other funny.

But right now Ross was struggling to tie his bow tie.

The room that he was sharing with Oleg had two beds. It smelled strongly of oranges and spice. A member of the American delegation that he had spoken to yesterday had said that it was for the Christmas season, so that everyone would feel festive. It was nice, but not particularly festive for Ross since he did not associate it with Christmas. Not that he associated anything with Christmas. Yes. They put up trees in December, but the tree was for the New Year, not any sort of religious festival.

Oleg was presently sitting on one of the beds and making impatient noises while Ross continued to pretend to struggle with his bowtie. He just needed Oleg to leave, to leave him alone for a few minutes.

“They're all downstairs by now, Ross. If we don’t hurry up there will be no champagne or caviar left for us.”

“Sorry,” Ross apologized. “My sister always does this for me.” He tugged the sides of the bow to make them as even as possible.

“Of course she does,” Oleg said, pushing himself to his feet. “Let me see.”

Ross turned and let Oleg tug at the sides of the bow for a moment.

“There,” Oleg said with satisfaction. “You’re ready.” He clapped Ross on the shoulders. Then he strode purposefully towards the door.

“I have to use the restroom,” Ross said, halting Oleg, “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He turned to look at Oleg and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Oleg sighed and dropped back down onto one of the beds. “Directive Twelve,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“What?” Ross asked with a frown.

“Directive Twelve,” Oleg quoted. “No member of the Soviet delegation is to be left alone on American soil.”

“Can I at least shut the door?” Ross joked, trying to hide his growing unease.

Oleg nodded with an amused snort. “Of course.”

Ross closed the bathroom door firmly. He leaned heavily on the sink, hands braced on either side. And he looked at himself. He thought he looked normal, and that was the point, he wanted to look like everything was fine, not like he was going to defect or die trying tonight.

He took a deep breath and then turned the faucet on. He splashed his face with some of the cold water and then patted his face dry. He grabbed his comb and roughly combed his hair again before tugging his tuxedo back into place.

Now or never.

—

The rest of the Soviet delegation was already in the foyer. Ross’ boss Dmitri Annishin was mingling and talking with a member of the British delegation.

“Hopefully we’ll see you in two years in Moscow,” he was saying as Ross and Oleg approached. “Ah, there you are. I think someones going to give a speech of some sort soon. You might want some champagne for that,” he lifted his own glass.

Shortly, someone clinked silverware on a glass. And the general murmur and hum of the room grew quiet.

One of the Americans mounted the dais. “I’d like to extend a heartfelt welcome to our Soviet guests. What I’ve seen here so far tonight gives me hope for the future. So here’s to peace and warmth between our two great nations.” He lifted his glass in a toast and everyone else followed.

“To peace.”

And then the music resumed, something classical that Ross did not recognize, not that that was surprising, and people began talking amongst themselves again. Oleg and Dmitri drifted off and left Ross alone in the crowd.

He took a sip of his champagne and considered his options. Someone was supposed to make contact with him, but that could only happen if he was alone. He watched Oleg and Dmitri on the other side of the room and positioned himself on the edge of a cluster of individuals so that he would look like he was engaged rather than just looking and watching.

Someone cleared their throat just behind him and Ross turned. A woman in a blue dress and fur stole was standing there. The woman looked at him expectantly.

“Ross Poldark, Department of Foreign Affairs.”

“Jackie Nathan, State Department,” she said with a smile.

And then Oleg was standing at her elbow.

Ross must have looked surprised because she added with a laugh, “I do more than just make coffee.”

She turned suddenly and spilled her champagne all down the front of Oleg’s tuxedo. She gasped. Oleg jumped back and brushed at the spreading liquid.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Can I—”

“Go and change,” Ross told Oleg.

Jackie turned back to him. “I can’t believe I did that!”

Maybe this was not his contact after all.

Then she looked briefly to either side. “I have instructions for you.”

Ross gave the smallest of nods.

“After the first course, get to the kitchen. It’s at the end of the main corridor on the first floor.”

Ross’ breath accelerated as she spoke. He looked nervously around them checking for Dmitri, Oleg, or anyone else from their delegation.

“Take a breath. Relax,” Jackie said, resting a hand on Ross’ forearm. “This is what you wanted.”

Ross opened his mouth to speak.

“Just keep your head,” Jackie said in a low tone, before returning to the slightly too loud and cheerful voice. “So nice to meet you. Roger, was it?”

And then she was gone.

“Who was that?” Dmitri asked when he found Ross a few moments later.

“Some secretary from the Americans’ State Department,” Ross said.

Dmitri snorted. “And they let her come to this? She must be friendly with someone high up.”

Ross nodded and turned his attention to his drink.

“Champagne?” A waiter asked, holding out a silver tray.

“Yes. Thank you.” Ross took one of the flutes and put his empty one in its place.

—

The banquet room was adorned with red and white poinsettias and ivy was twined about the columns that frame the doors. They all had assigned seats with their names. Someone from their own delegation on one side and someone from another UN member nation on their other side. Ross talked with Oleg and a representative of the GDR. He talked. Even as he was talking he could not have told you what he was saying. It was just the standard pleasantries, families, children, hobbies, and the weather.

But Ross was too busy waiting for that first course, and terrified of it at the same time. He was tense. The left side of his neck ached, his arm felt a bit numb and stiff. His hands shook just a little bit. He hoped that it was not noticeable or that it would be dismissed as jitters since this was his first significant international event.

The first course was a salad with onions and walnuts and an oil based dressing. Ross cut up the lettuce and pushed it around the place. He was too keyed up to eat.

Oleg leaned over. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ross nodded tightly. “I’ve just never been one for salads.”

Oleg laughed. “And you can save room for the meat in the next course. You have the right idea.”

Oleg positioned his silverware to indicate that he was finished and was ready for the next course.

Ross did the same. He saw many people were done with the first course and were waiting for the fish. Did Jackie mean right after the first course? Or did she mean while the second course was benign served?

It did not matter. Ross could not stand sitting there for a moment longer with tension zipping down his nerves. He pushed his chair back and left the table without excusing himself. He buttoned his jacket out of habit when he stood. He was several steps away from the table when Dmitri and Oleg exchanged a look and Oleg rose to follow Ross. “I’ll just be a moment,” he said, excusing himself.

It was torture not to run, but Ross’ heart was already beating like he had been running a marathon. He saw a waiter enter the main corridor from a side hall. Ross turned abruptly and jogged down that hall. He sped up when he reached the steps.

He was brought up short when he saw a man in a black suit standing near the base of the stairs. Ross slowed, he forced himself to take normal steps at a normal speed, a pace that felt abominably slow. He straightened his jacket. He felt stiff and conspicuous. Surely the man would notice his nerves.

“Toilet, Comrade?” the man asked.

Ross was entirely certain at that moment that the man was KGB there to keep all members of the Soviet delegation in check. Ross nodded.

The man gestured to his left.

Ross was past the man. He could see the kitchen doors. And he was silently praying to any god that might exist that the man was looking in another direction.

“Ross, wait for me!” Oleg called.

Ross looked over his shoulder to see Oleg bounding down the stairs.

Ross did not even think about it then.

He ran.

His dress shoes did not have the greatest traction. And he could hear two sets of footsteps behind him. Oleg and the KGB officer.

Ross launched himself through the kitchen’s swinging doors. The organized chaos was disrupted by the running men.

“Stop!”

“What are you doing?”

“What the fuck!”

Ross did not look at any of the staff. He shoved them out of his way. He yanked whatever looked easily throwable off the counters; bowls, vegetables, stacks of crockery. He even pulled one of the workers into Oleg’s path.

Exit? Where was the exit? Ross felt like his lungs were about to burst.

There.

He yanked a kitchen cart out. It spun and fell on its side. It took Oleg down.

Only the KGB man left.

Ross seized a pan from the stove as he ran past. He turned and swung the heavy skillet. He caught the KGB man across the face. He didn’t even take a second to hope that he had not killed the man.

And then he was through the door.

Outside.

Hands were grabbing him.

“Get off! Let me go!” he struggled with the man.

“Get in the car!”

Ross was shoved into the backseat of a waiting sedan. The door slammed shut. Tires screeched as the car took off.

Ross looked behind him. Whoever had shoved him into the car was already gone. Oleg and the KGB man, blood trickling down his face, were running after the car and shouting.

But the driver kept accelerating. The driver did not brake as he took the turn onto a main street from the alley. The back end swayed hard from side to side..

Ross’ chest heaved. Those lights he had been admiring earlier were too much now. They blinded him. They made him dizzy and sick.

“Take a deep breath.”

Only then did Ross notice that he was not alone in the back seat. Jackie in her blue dress and fur stole was seated by the other door.

“It’s over. You’re free.”

Ross looked at her.

Over.

Free.

His chest squeezed in apprehension.

“What happens now?”

“Tonight we’re taking you to a safe house that we have. You’ll stay there a few days. You’ll be debriefed and then we’ll start ironing out the rest of the details.”

Ross nodded and looked ahead at the streaming headlights and receding tail lights. He tried to calm his heart rate.

“And I believe a friend of yours will be waiting for you at the safe house.”

Ross snapped his head back to look at her. He did not dare ask who the friend might be.

—

The car drove for several hours. It looped back and took many detours to confuse and loose anyone who might be following them.

By the time the driver put the car in park and turned off the engine Ross was drained, but his body was still wired with tension.

“We’re here,” Jackie said.

Ross nodded and looked out the window.

They were in a suburban neighborhood. The streets were quiet, tree lined with neatly maintained sidewalks. The houses were set back from the roads. Many of them had neat white fences. “

It looked like a movie set.

“Do people really live here?” he asked in a daze.

“Of course?” Jackie said. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in.”

The house they were parked in front  of was white with black shutters, a cheerful green front door, and a light to one side. Ross could only see this because of the warm glow of the streetlights and the porch light. He looked up and down the street, not a single light was out.

Jackie knocked on the front door.

It opened and they were greeted by an older man wearing a shoulder holster.

“Is it safe here?” Ross asked, looking pointedly at the man’s weapons.

“Of course,” Jackie assured him. “Rob is just here to make sure of that. He’ll switch out with Steven in a few hours, but there will always be someone here with you.”

Ross nodded. “Nice to meet you, Rob,” Ross extended a hand.

Ross looked around the foyer that opened onto a living room. It was sparsely furnished, but everything was neat and clean. It still felt surreal. He was sure that  it would take a while for it to feel real.

Then Jackie spoke, “There you are, Jim. I was wondering where you had gotten to.”

Ross turned then to see Jim standing in the doorway.

Two years was a long time.

Two years felt like eternity.

“It’s been a while,” Jim said with a good-natured smile.

“It has,” Ross replied.

Yes. He was free. But in this they were still hiding, still being watched.

Ross offered a hand, Aching for Jim’s touch, but more than willing to settle for a slide of palms after two years of nothing. No contact at all.

“You look good.” Jim took Ross’ proffered hand, but pulled him into a rough hug. Friendly, but it lasted a heartbeat too long.

“You, too,” Ross said softly. He hoped that it was too quiet to be overheard, or could be dismissed as a reciprocal compliment. Then louder, and more light-hearted “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Jim clapped a hand on Ross’ shoulder. “Well, things seem to have improved for you. I didn’t know that you even knew how to put on a tux,” he teased.

“I’ll have you know that Oleg did the bowtie.”

Jim laughed.

Ross had missed that sound for so long. He was sure that he was going to wake up from this dream any moment and find himself back in his gray Moscow apartment with the cracks extending from the ceiling corners and the damp on the window ledges and nothing but his memories for company, if you did not count the family of 5 that he shared the a common room with, which he did not.

“It is late. Jim here will get you settled. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about,” Jackie interrupted Ross’ thoughts. “You should be debriefed in a few days.”

“How long will that take?” Ross asked.

“That depends on how much you have to tell us, Mr. Poldark.”

Jackie returned to the car to be driven to home, the office, wherever it was that she was going.

Jim led Ross to an upstairs bedroom that looked out over a spacious backyard. There was a patio with a grill, a porch swing hanging from a metal stand in the far corner. The house behind them could barely be seen for the trees and the distance in the dark.

Jim shut the door quietly behind them. “So this is where you’ll sleep. I’m across the hall and Rob insists on staying in the living room, first point of contact. Steven will do the same I expect.”

“Will you be staying here as long as I am here?”

“Only if you want me too.” Jim’s words were shy. He lingered by the door with his hands stuffed in his pants’ pockets.

“I would like that.” Ross sat down on the narrow bed. The only other bits of furniture were a bedside table, a chest, and a secretary desk with a chair. “I was not expecting you to be here.”

“I wanted to be the one to go to the UN dinner, but I was voted down. Something about possibly being recognized and not being able to keep it together under the pressure.”

Ross scooted over on the bed to make room for Jim.

“But I would have fought them to be here if they had said no. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay. You are okay, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Ross nodded, “It is likely best that you were not there. I may have been too distracted to do what I needed to do.” Ross smiled. He placed a hand on top of Jim’s and wound his fingers between Jim’s.

“I think they were more concerned with me shooting somebody if something went wrong.”

“What would have happened if things had gone wrong.”

Jim squeezed Ross’ fingers. “Since this never officially happened the Americans wouldn’t be able to extract you by force. You could have fought, but nobody from our side would have been able to assist.”

“I did hit someone with a frying pan,” Ross grinned.

“Did he deserve it?”

“Most certainly.”

“Then that is completely understandable and excusable,” Jim said confidently with a hint of amusement.

“KGB.”

“Completely excusable then,” the amusement was gone and Jim’s face had turned serious. “They’ll look for you, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’ll probably be given a new identity and set up somewhere in the Midwest as soon as they feel like they can move you.”

“Can’t I stay here?”

“Here? No,” Jim stood and started to pace. “This is just a temporary safe house, one of many that they have around the city.”

“That’s not what I… Can’t I stay with you?”

Jim stopped pacing to look at Ross.

“A new identity would be far safer.”

“I don’t want to be safe. I want to be with you.”

Jim sucked in a sharp breath. “Ross…”

“That’s why I’m doing this. I don’t like the Soviet government, but I would have never thought of spying and selling secrets if it weren’t for you. I would not have defected if it weren’t for you.”

“But you didn’t know if I’d even be here. I was stationed in Shanghai for 15 months after I left Moscow, and…”

“I would have waited. Insisted. Refused to tell them anything until I saw you.”

“That would have been a very dangerous game.”

“Yes. But one that  was willing to play. But I don’t have to.” Ross stood. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Jim said quietly, eyes fixed on Ross.

Ross lifted a hand to cup Jim’s cheek. Jim leaned into the touch and Ross stroked Jim’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Ross…”

Ross lowered his lips to Jim’s. Jim stretched to meet Ross. He made a soft noise. His hand automatically found Ross’ hip. Ross brought his other hand up to cup the other side of Jim’s face, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Ross traced Jim’s lower lip with his tongue. Jim gasped and then he was tasting the remnants of champagne on Ross’ tongue. Jim’s fingers tightened on Ross’ hip and he groaned.

Their breath was the only sound in the small room and it felt like it was as loud as a plan coming in for a landing.

Jim abruptly broke the kiss. His chest heaving, eyes wide, pupils dilated. “We can’t. There’s… We… I…”

“I know,” Ross said quietly. “I just… I’ve dreamed of doing that again. I never really thought I would get to.”

Jim licked his lips and it took all of Ross’ willpower not to push Jim against the wall and kiss him again. Damn Rob, Steven, whoever was on guard duty downstairs.

Jim looked at his feet. “I… I felt the same. Just, we can’t. Not here. It’s safer than—”

Ross lifted Jim’s face so that their eyes met, “But still not safe.”

Jim nodded.

“I know.”

Jim took a deep shuddering breath. He rose up to press a soft kiss to Ross’ lips. “Soon. I’ll see what I can do. It’ll take some doing, my job… This was all a bit last minute.”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be on the delegation, but George got sick.”

“Poor George.”

“Fuck him,” Ross said passionately.

Jim laughed. “Is that the same George—?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck him is right.”

Ross nodded firmly and pressed his forehead to Jim’s. “So what do I do here if I can’t have you?”

“There’s plenty of books. And I’m sure you could use some sleep after tonight. There’s some pajamas in the chest. I guessed at your size, so I hope they fit.”

“If they don’t then I’ll just sleep naked.”

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“Maybe.” Ross suppressed a yawn.

“You should sleep,” Jim stepped away from Ross. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Ross nodded.

Neither of them had to say that they wished they could share the bed together, to draw comfort from each other.

Not now.

Soon.

Soon they’d be free.

[lordmayokcorner]

THE BOYZ 『Christmas in August』 - Album Review

Allkpop

THE BOYZ—no not the TV show—is a boy group (shocker) that I know very little about, besides the fact that they are supposedly very good and I should check them out. Perfectly timed, I got a request to write a review for this album. (Send me asks on my Tumblr if you want something reviewed!) If life has taught me anything it’s to always believe random people on the internet, so let’s see how their newest album PHANTASY Pt.1, Christmas In August, holds up to my standards. I rate on a balanced scale so a 5 out of 10 means I feel neutrally, not that I don’t like it. Enjoy!

LIP GLOSS - 6.5

This song has an upbeat, summery beat that feels like a cross between new Harry Styles and Prince. It’s pleasant and groovy. Some of the elements feel a bit disorganized however, which is off putting for a song that requires the rhythm to be tight and right in the pocket. It works well as a title track but could use a little more catchiness which it lacks because it’s a little generic. I love the energy though, classic summer song!

Passion Fruit - 7

I love the sampled beat! This song also has a lot of funk but is a bit darker feeling and has a wider sound spectrum. I love the way the bass and the rapping in the verses overlap. The prechorus draws things out but doesn’t drop the tension at all. The chorus is a bit of an anti drop, letting go of all of the tension and build from the prechorus, feeling much more hushed. Classically, it scales up again in 8 bars but still feels somewhat laid-back. It’s much more energized than LIP GLOSS and I’m living for it. It’s not adventurous but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Lighthouse - 7.5

This one is not at all uplifting. The beat feels somehow underwater and ocean-cave-like if that makes sense and lacks the funkiness of the past couple songs. The chorus is lighter and more subdued, but when the post chorus hits it feels massive and dark. Massive modulated synth basses back screaming vocals for a mere 4 bars in a way that makes me want it back more than anything. The second verse doesn’t do that many interesting things till the end when it brings in some crunchy harmonies with some extra instrumentals. The post chorus has even more oomph this time around and thankfully lasts a little longer. A post post chorus concludes the song excellently. The whole song feels very reminiscent of being under the ocean. Lovely stuff.

Fantasize - 8

Arguably the first epic on the album, this song starts with a stripped down drum and bass verse and adds more synths in the prechorus to build tension to yet another anti drop…getting a little old. It feels very After Hours (The Weeknd); It’s very much a reference to the 80s, just like After Hours. We love an 80s K-pop banger, just like the iconic LA DI DA. I like its ability to simultaneously be this big power song but also be pretty laid back in the chorus and verses. Certainly a banger.

Fire Eyes - 4

The kick-snare beat, pluck bass, and fun quick vocals are indicators of a classic light pop song. The vocals are definitely sub-par, which is unfortunate because there’s not very much beat to back them up. The melody is nothing to speak of either. I would say it’s the first clunker so far, which is pretty good overall. It’s not painful, it just doesn’t feel like anything special. Light pop has never really been my thing anyway. The end has some more synths, but that doesn’t change much for me.

Fairy Tale - 5

Another one with ‘meh’ vocals. The autotune is unsoundly, I guess you could say. The melodies feel a bit all over the place in the verse; They don’t really connect in a way that they should. The chorus turns things around a bit though. The arpeggiated synths are really nice to listen to. It’s definitely refreshing to hear a final track that’s not just a flat boring ballad. It has flavour for sure.

Final Thoughts

A great summer comeback! The sealike and tropical vibes keep going throughout the album. Super fun but also has some pretty impressive production in it. The middle of the record is really solid. I give this album an overall score of about 6.5 for that reason, with my favorite song being Fantasize. I didn’t love everything on it but I can say that I’m overall very satisfied with it. Some interesting stuff from THE BOYZ, thanks for recommending this to me! I’ll have to listen to some of their other releases. Thanks for reading!

- Maya

[redsoapbox]

Thrilled to Announce That The Pearlfishers Are Supporting Have Yourself a Merry Indie Christmas

David Scott

When curating V4Velindre, I couldn't have imagined that a number of my all-time favourite artists would end up contributing to the album. I still haven't quite got over the shock of having The Wedding Present, Nightingales, Tot Taylor and BOB featuring on an album that I had actually compiled. As soon as I had conceived of the idea for Have Yourself a Merry Indie Christmas, The Pearlfishers became my number one target. Back in 2014, I blogged a feature on my top 5 Christmas albums. This is what I had to say about The Pearlfishers' A Sunflower at Christmas:

'The Pearlfishers have been making rather wonderful Bacharach/Beach Boys-influenced pop music for over 20 years without anyone paying too much attention to their worthwhile efforts. Their somewhat unheralded mini-album from 2004 should put you in a feel-good mood for the festive period ahead. Lead-singer David Scott penned a half dozen of the seven songs on the album and he generally makes a good fist of capturing the spirit of Christmas, albeit filtered through a modern take on the festive season. The opening track, “Snowboardin”, suggests taking up this winter pastime as a whimsical cure for the stresses and strains of Christmas shopping, while “Winter Roads” and “Blue December” are both well-crafted love songs, reminiscent of mid-period Prefab Sprout, which benefit from a Christmas setting. Perhaps the best track on the album, though, is “The Snow Lamb”. Scott is aiming a lot higher here, endeavouring to write a Christmas classic, no less. It’s a beautiful song, with more than a touch of poetry about its enchanting lyric – 

“A sailing boat of leaves and hay / A silver coat of moonlight rays / A jewelled string from drops of dew / A star to light the path for you”.

The album may be a tad lightweight for some, but the Glaswegians have turned in a memorable collection that’s guaranteed to put a spring in your step as you trudge through the snow to do your last-minute Christmas shopping’.

I want to say a massive thank you to David for taking the time to make this happen. A thank you to Marina records as well. The one difficulty that I had left was to choose a song from the album. “Winter Roads”, above, is one of David’s favourite tracks, but it’s not the one I ended up choosing (but it was very definitely on the shortlist!).

And just so this isn’t all about my personal opinion, here is the introduction to Stewart Mason’s All Music bio of the band - ‘An ever-shifting Scottish group led by singer/songwriter David Scott, the only constant member, The Pearlfishers are a glorious soft pop band mixing acoustic-based music with subtle orchestral flourishes, rather like a Glasgow-based Prefab Sprout with a major Brian Wilson fixation. Since forming in 1989 The Pearlfishers have refined and broadened their sound while maintaining a steadily growing cult following’.

Also contributing are The Photocopies. The Photocopies self-identify as "unapologetically old-school indie pop in a mid-80s-to-early-90s vein, made without secret plans to fill stadiums (ugh). Think lo-fi c86, twee, postpunk janglepop etc". It's no surprise then that they have just released Pop Trivia, a whopping 45-track retrospective on South Africa's super-cool Subjangle label.

Sean Turner, a Londoner based in Michigan, was kind enough to offer up a few Christmas songs, old and new, for our album. In the end, I plumped for "Under Christmas Lights", released in December last year, mainly because its forlorn lyric appeals to a hopeless romantic like me. How can you take issue with an opening verse like this:

'I'm such a loser, sat in the boozer 'Cause you've been gone now all this time Here I remember the day in December Last year when you said you'd be mine'. The band has a busy period ahead intending to release Sweet Sixteen (16-track compilation vinyl LP), Hopelessly Devoted (all-new 7-track mini-album on cassette), Wrong Century (28-track compilation CD) - “Christmas Alone” / “I Know You’re Gonna Ruin This Christmas” (digital single).

 https://thephotocopies.bandcamp.com/music

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Spark in the Night

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

With only hours left until midnight, Aelin decides to help Rowan complete all his New Year's resolutions before the year is done

Written for 12 days of Rowaelin, Day 7: Holiday Traditions

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | 12 Days of Rowaelin | Wintery Collection

Warnings: Language

4627 words

*******

“… with dense storms coming in from the Northwest, it appears Orynth will have its heaviest snowfall of the season beginning today and continuing into tomorrow night. We highly advise not being out on the roads save for emergencies and absolute necessities. So unfortunately for all you partygoers, we hope everyone is where they intend to celebrate the New Year because for your safety you won’t be going anywhere until the storm passes…”

Aelin groaned, flopping onto her couch as she turned the tv off and threw her remote onto the other chair.

Aedion was hosting a New Year’s Eve party, and she and Rowan were supposed to head over there in a few hours, but it looked like that wouldn’t be happening now. Maybe if they left right that minute, they could beat the worst of the storm. Aelin jerked up and looked toward her balcony, her hope dissipating as all she could see was white beyond the glass door.

She grabbed her phone and pulled up her text chain with Buzzard, barely starting to write before Rowan’s face flashed across the screen with an incoming call.

The picture was from Halloween when she’d roped him into wearing matching costumes as punishment for losing a bet. Tinkerbell and Peter Pan. Rowan was sitting down, his long legs clad in green tights, as Aelin leaned her elbow on his shoulder, her shiny wings hovering behind her while she grinned fiendishly. His arms were crossed, and a deep scowl cut across his face, but the corner of his mouth was curving up and she knew he was trying not to smile at her antics. It was one of the reasons he was her best friend; despite the complaints or arguments he would make about her ideas, he always went along with whatever scheme she’d thought up, and was always the first to defend her choices when anyone else questioned them.

“Are you psychic or something?” Aelin asked, answering the call without so much as a hello. “I was literally in the middle of texting you.”

His deep chuckle sounded through the phone, making her grin. “No, but I seem to have developed an Aelin sense.”

She snorted, “An Aelin sense? Like a Spidey sense? Now you know whenever I’m about to text you?”

“Nah, it usually flares up when you’re going to do something that ends by giving me heart palpitations or injures someone–usually you.”

“Excuse you,” she laughed. “I find that rather insulting. And your Aelin sense must be off then because I wasn’t going to do either of those things.” she paused, considering, “I don’t think.”

She could hear Rowan moving around his apartment. “Actually, I was calling to see if you’ve heard the news?”

Aelin’s grin dropped, and she groaned again. “If you mean the massive storms that are ruining New Year’s Eve? Then yeah, I just heard.”

He hummed in response. “Just checking, didn’t want you showing up all ready to go later.”

Rolling her eyes, Aelin watched the snow fly by outside for another second. She was bummed for a dozen different reasons, one of them being that she was supposed to be in charge of bringing the fireworks to Aedion’s party. On the one hand, she had a whole box of sparklers and rockets ready to go. On the other, it was too snowy to light anything off in an attempt to still celebrate despite the lack of company. Maybe by midnight the snow would settle down.

“Hey,” she cut off Rowan from whatever he was saying, something about winds and driving precautions, she wasn’t sure, “You should come up to my place and we can figure something out. I think I have some left-over tinsel from Christmas, and why don’t you bring that sad excuse of a holiday box with you. I’m sure you have something in there we can use.”

Last summer when Rowan’s lease ran out on his old apartment, he’d tried finding a new place that wasn’t so far away from their other friends. In an almost perfect stroke of luck, that same week one of Aelin’s neighbors in her apartment building had to make a sudden move, and Aelin was able to arrange for Rowan to sublet her neighbor’s apartment and later take over the lease when it ended.

It was nice having Rowan living only two floors away from her. They spent nearly all their evenings at one of their apartments, eating takeout if it was Aelin’s or a home-cooked meal if it was Rowan’s. She loved being able to show up at his door raving about the newest book she’d read and alternately loved having him barge into her place persuading her to try a new recipe he’d found.

The only downside was that it made her ever-growing crush on him so much harder to ignore.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Aelin hung up her call with Aedion telling him neither she nor Rowan would be making it to the party. The text that followed soon after from Lysandra had too many winking faces with thinly veiled threats to use the holiday night alone to finally do something about her crush. Aelin ignored it. It didn’t matter that she felt like she would burst from how much she wanted to be with Rowan; she couldn’t risk their friendship.

Aelin busied herself with finding the gold and silver bundles of tinsel she knew were hiding somewhere. By the time Rowan showed up, shimmery strands covered the furniture, picture frames, and shelves.

He didn’t bother knocking, using his key to come in, knowing she’d be waiting for him. When he first moved into the building, they exchanged spare keys—for emergencies. Now it was just convenience.

“Did the New Year’s ball explode in here?” Rowan teased, shutting her door, and carrying a bin into her living room. “There’s glitter everywhere.”

“At least I have enough decorations to go around,” she snorted, watching Rowan set down the solitary bin labeled holiday. “And not a single box for every holiday combined.”

“Why should I buy more decorations when you always have a store’s worth of them?”

She rolled her eyes and passed him the bottle of cider she’d had opened and waiting for him. It wasn’t the first time Aelin had teased him about his holiday supply, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Sure enough, when Rowan pried open the top, Aelin could see a small pumpkin figurine for Halloween, a headband with a leprechaun’s hat for St. Patrick’s Day, and a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Valentine’s day all mixed in with some lights and other knick-knacks.

The few decorations he owned for Christmas were still up on his walls surrounded by all the decorations Aelin deemed unnecessary for her own apartment. It hadn’t really mattered in the end. When they weren’t celebrating at one of their friend’s places, Aelin and Rowan had been holed up at Aelin’s watching holiday movies.

“You don’t need as much as me, but you’ve got to expand your collection to at least fit in a second bin.” She laughed, setting down her cider and picking out the pumpkin.

Rowan rolled his eyes as he set the red glasses and green headband on her couch. “One might say this is eclectic.”

Aelin snorted. “One might also say this is sad,” she mused, grabbing a bent cardboard turkey. When she tried straightening its feathers, they flopped back down in protest. She tossed it aside, laughing at the way Rowan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance as he looked at the bird like it had personally offended him.

His face softened at her laugh as they went through his meager holiday collection. Aelin was trying on a pair of New Year’s glasses from four years ago when Rowan stilled, his eyes snagging on something at the bottom of the box.

“What?” she took off the uncomfortable sparkly glasses. “Did you find something we can actually use?”

His brow furrowed as he picked up a folded piece of paper that had gotten stuck to the side of the box. It was worn, as if it had been flattened and refolded several times.

“What is that?” Aelin tried walking around the coffee table to look over Rowan’s shoulder but as soon as she got close, he blinked and quickly refolded the paper. With a raised brow she asked again, “Rowan, what is it?”

***

“What is it?”

Rowan stared at the flimsy piece of paper in his hands and read the messily scrawled words. His eyes darted across the lines that had been crossed out, the ones he’d erased and rewritten, until he got to the bottom of the page. He read the final line over again before hastily folding the paper and making sure Aelin couldn’t see it.

“It’s, uh,” he may as well be honest. If he hedged around it, she would keep pestering him until he told her. Rowan cleared his throat and resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. “It’s my New Year’s resolution list from last year.”

His best friend’s eyebrows shot up, whatever she expected him to say must not have been that. Then her eyes sparkled, and a slow smirk grew on her face, and Rowan knew before she uttered a word that she was going to want to see it.

“Can I read it?” She asked excitedly. Despite his rapidly beating heart, he chuckled at how well he knew her.

“It’s nothing, just something Fenrys and Lorcan made me write at last year’s party.”

She came closer, still looking amused, “They made you?”

Rowan snorted, sitting down on the couch and making sure the pocket that now held the list was on Aelin’s opposite side. “An entire bottle of champagne might have been involved.”

Laughing with him, Aelin sat on the cushion beside him. “Come on, what’s on the list? Did you accomplish everything you wanted to do?” She hopped closer to him, close enough that Rowan could feel the heat of her body as her leg pressed against his. “Is there anything left? Oh! I can help you finish it before midnight!” she clapped and grinned like it was the best idea she’d ever had. “Yeah, that’s what we can do today. I am going to help you cross off everything left on that list.”

She looked so determined and excited that Rowan could only huff a laugh. He wanted to tell her no, say that it didn’t matter and she should forget about it. But he couldn’t tell her no. Not when she was looking at him like that.

“Fine,” he groaned, already regretting it at her loud cheer. “But—I am holding on to the list.”

“Whatever, weirdo,” she rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder with her own, still grinning. “Sure. Okay, what’s first?”

He smiled at the way Aelin was watching him happily. Rowan pulled the paper from his pocket and read, “Race down the hallway on wheely chairs.”

Aelin blinked, then she tossed her head back and laughed, “Really? That sounds more like something Fenrys would say. Or I would say. It also sounds more like a lame bucket list item than a resolution.” She teased him but was already walking towards her room for her desk chair.

Rowan rolled his eyes, craning his neck over the sofa to watch as she dragged the chair back in. “Again,” he said drily, “a whole bottle of champagne.”

“Let’s go down to your floor so you can grab your chair and then you can bask in my glory as I win this race.” She beamed and shoved her chair towards the door.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Fireheart. You’ll be eating my dust before you know it.” He rose from the sofa.

Aelin winked and walked out the door. His smile faded and his heart resumed its frantic beating as he pulled out the list and reread it. It was mostly stupid things like the race, but there at the bottom, the very last thing was written in neat handwriting. He remembered waking up the following morning, still suffering from a hangover, but coherent and confident enough to add this last resolution.

Finally tell Aelin you’re in love with her.

***

Aelin won the chair race. Barely. Illegally. Rowan and his damned long legs pushed himself farther than Aelin could, but she’d grabbed onto the arm on his chair before he completely surpassed her and tugged herself forward using his momentum. The force of it sent her sailing over the finish line just as Rowan’s chair tipped and sent him careening into her, ending up with the both of them in a tangle on the floor, laughing and groaning in pain as their two chairs spun haphazardly down the hall.

“Oh my gods,” Aelin groaned, sitting up and leaning against the wall as she stretched her legs out in front of her. She closed her eyes, knowing if she caught Rowan’s eyes again, she’d be sent into another laughing fit. “Cool, great. One thing off the list. What next?”

Rowan snickered then winced as his knee hit the leg of one of their chairs. He shoved it away before propping himself up on the wall across from her. Aelin cracked an eye open and quickly shut it again, hoping he would think she was still trying not to laugh and not because he’d taken to rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow and giving her an unobstructed view of his tattoo-covered muscled arms.

She heard a crinkle as he took out the light blue paper. After a few seconds of silence, and a mental chastising to pull herself together, she opened her eyes and saw him glaring at the list in his hands. His head was cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed, “This one just says: Fly” he grumbled, annoyed at his drunk self’s vagueness.

Aelin snorted and pulled her hair up into a knot atop her head. “Fly? That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He confirmed.

She hummed, thinking. “Would you count when we went skydiving for Aedion’s birthday flying?”

“Yes!” his head snapped up and a smug grin lit his face as he pulled out a pen and crossed off both the chair race and flying.

“Perfect, what else?” Aelin questioned, her smile growing as she thought about how maybe the snowstorm was for the best if it meant being able to spend the whole day goofing around with Rowan.

“That would be,” his brows shot up and he snorted as he read, “Shout from the rooftop.”

Aelin crossed her legs, leaning forward and trying to look over the top of the paper, but Rowan saw what she was doing and held it back. She rolled her eyes and nudged his leg with her foot. “Does it specify what you’re shouting?”

“Of course not.”

She laughed. “Could we substitute a balcony for the roof? If we try going up there today, we’d probably get stranded out in the storm.” She scooted closer until they were sitting side-by-side and suggested, “How about we wait on that one and hope the storm lightens up, then we can brave the cold on my balcony, and you can yell whatever the fuck you want into the snowy void.”

He pinched her side but silently laughed as he nodded. “We’ll wait for appropriate balcony-shouting weather.”

“Lovely. Next!” She leaned her head against the wall and stared at the water-stained ceiling as Rowan listed off his next resolution.

***

Rowan didn’t need to look at the list anymore, having committed all the weird, ridiculous, and stupid resolutions to memory. He didn't have to tell Aelin that he was having a much better time spending the day with her than he would’ve trying to maintain being social with a party full of people. She already knew. He hoped she was having as much fun as he was, but Rowan wasn’t trying to get his hopes up thinking she preferred their time alone as much as he did.

He could pretend that it was true, nonetheless.

“Spend less time on social media,” Rowan recited, snorting. He barely spent any time on social media, a fact Aelin and all his other friends constantly made fun of him for. The only reason he’d made an Instagram account was because Aelin kept having to show him videos on her phone instead of being able to message him on the app. That was three years ago and since then he’d posted seven times. He had an obligatory Facebook, a Twitter he only used to like other people’s tweets, and was entirely confused about how to use that weird clock app.

“Are you sure you wrote these?” Aelin joked after he read the resolution.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I have no explanation for drunk Rowan’s train of thought.”

She leaned towards him and held out her hand, palm up. “Phone, please.”

“What?” he asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Aelin sighed and pointedly looked at the phone he’d pulled out of his pocket. “Your phone. Please.”

“Why do you want my phone?”

Without another word, Aelin reached forward and snatched his cellphone away before he could blink, laughing triumphantly as she opened it and found what she was looking for.

“What are you doing?” He tried grabbing his phone back but Aelin twisted out of the way, her fingers flying across the screens.

A minute later, she tossed him back his phone and looked mighty pleased with herself. Warily, Rowan opened his phone to see what changes she made. His apps were still there, so at least she hadn’t deleted them. But if she hadn’t gotten rid of them, then…

When he tried to open Instagram it weirdly asked him to log back in. He couldn’t. Frowning, he tried again, and it gave him the same message of his password being incorrect. Rowan blinked and then his eyes shot up to Aelin’s.

“You changed my password?” he asked incredulously.

“Passwords. Plural.” Her smirk widened before she sang cheekily, “You’re welcome!”

Lifting his eyes to the ceiling and counting to ten, Rowan took a deep breath as Aelin’s laughter sounded through the hall before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the pen, and crossing off spend less time on social media. “That’s one way to do it, I suppose” he grumbled, repocketing the pen.

***

They spent the rest of the night checking off Rowan’s New Year’s resolutions, pausing only to eat some leftover Chinese food Aelin had in her fridge from the takeout she’d gotten them the night before.

The sun had set hours ago and surprisingly the snow had died down too. Aelin’s balcony was set into the building, so a bit of snow had blown in and coated the floor but thankfully it had been sheltered from the brunt of the storm. And what was left falling had lightened up enough that if she and Rowan went out there, they wouldn’t get covered in it.

Aelin was staring out at her balcony, thinking this as she debated whether or not they could get away with lighting off a few of the rockets in her fireworks supply.

“No, we can’t.” Rowan muttered, “you’d have to face them so far down as to not hit the ceiling that they’d be aiming straight for the buildings across the street. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not ring in the New Year by sitting in a jail cell for destruction of property.”

Aelin scoffed, begrudgingly admitting to one flaw of having an inset balcony, and slouched further down the couch so her head rested on Rowan’s shoulder. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Her head jostled as his shoulder rose and fell in silent laughter. “Pot. Kettle. Black.”

“But I have so many fireworks,” she whined teasingly, twisting her head to look at him.

He dropped his head back and snorted. “Save them for another holiday, It’s not like they’ll go bad. Besides, don’t you have sparklers too? If you really feel the need to light something on fire, we can go outside and light some of those.”

“Ooh, yeah!” She jerked up, twisting to face him, “Let’s light some sparklers.”

A few minutes, some grumbling from Rowan, and a new bottle of champagne later—Aelin and Rowan stood out on her balcony in jackets and scarves. Rowan wore a plastic silver hat that read Happy New Year in glitter, courtesy of Aelin, while she had on a headband with sparkly bobbles that looked like disco balls. Thanks to the way the balcony was hidden from the storm, it was surprisingly warm considering the snow.

The door was propped open just far enough so that they could hear the newscaster announcing the count down when it happened.

Each lighting a sparkler, they watched as sticks glowed in the winter’s night. Aelin jerked her head out towards the city. “Alright, Whitethorn. Here’s your chance to shout from the rooftop. Just pretend it’s not a balcony.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes catching on the cloud of air forming in front of his face as he did, before leaning on the railing and trying to think.

“Go on, then,” she urged again. “We don’t have much longer and you need to check off your list.”

He glanced side longed at her briefly before rubbing his hands together and refocusing on the buildings around them.

“Okay, Galathynius, here goes nothing.” He muttered and held back a smile as she grinned. Bracing his hands on the railing and standing to his full height, he tilted his head back and bellowed incomprehensibly into the stormy December air.

Rowan’s voice reverberated off the interior of the balcony, echoing in his ears seconds after he finished. It was silent for a moment after that, and then Aelin leaned into his side, laughing exuberantly. He couldn’t help but join in.

When they settled down, he took out the list and made a final strike. But he was too slow to completely hide the worn paper from Aelin’s sight and she quickly tried grabbing it, but Rowan lifted it above her head and waited until she stopped jumping before he tucked it away.

“Ah! There’s more to the list!” She said indignantly, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He felt his palms start to sweat and his heart skipped a beat. “What?”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him. “I saw that there was one more line on there. Well, what is it? We don’t have much time.” She tapped her foot in exaggerated irritation.

He could breathe again. She hadn’t read the last line: Finally tell Aelin you’re in love with her. Only saw that there was another line. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. No, it was good—he couldn’t risk it. Good. He cleared his throat and tried his best to look nonchalant. “It’s nothing.”

She arched a blonde brow. “Nothing? If it’s nothing, then what’s the harm in telling me?”

“No, it’s not nothing,” he backtracked, “I mean, it’s nothing I can do tonight.”

Unfortunately.

Thankfully.

Cowardly, but true.

She looked skeptical but let it go.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sound the crackling of their newest lit sparklers. Rowan was absentmindedly twirling his in his fingers, too absorbed in the feeling of the woman pressed against him, her arm flush with his as she scooted closer.

Rowan could hear the tv on in the room behind them, but he wasn’t paying attention to what was being said. Aelin must have been though because she suddenly pushed away from the railing and looked at the tv before spinning back around with a devilish grin on her face.

“Hear that, Buzzard?” she asked, jerking her head towards the screen. “Only a few seconds left until midnight, are you sure you can’t check off that last resolution?”

He chuckled at the determination in her eyes as he heard the faint countdown. “You’ve helped me check off more than enough, Fireheart.” Rowan looked away and dragged a hand through his hair, unable to look at her as he chickened out of completing his list.

She frowned and cocked her head to the side, strands of golden hair catching the light of their forgotten sparklers as they fell over her shoulder. Then she got a look in her eyes that normally told him she was about to do something that would make his heart stop dead in his chest. His hand was still resting on the back of his neck as she struck out quick as a viper and snatched the folded piece of paper from his pocket.

Ten!

“Ha ha!” Aelin exclaimed triumphantly as she hastily unfolded the list, stepping far enough away that he couldn’t reach it or her before she began to read it.

Nine!

Eight!

Rowan stood frozen, eyes wide and heart dropping, unable to take a breath as he watched Aelin read the one thing not crossed out on his list. The one thing he hadn’t dared to do—the one thing he wanted to do with every fiber of his being. But he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move a muscle or think of an explanation as her eyes flicked over the words once, twice, as she sucked in a sharp breath.

Seven!

Six!

Five!

Aelin’s fingers clutched the paper, wrinkling it further beneath her tight grip. She took another breath and lifted her eyes, instantly finding his. Rowan’s mind was somehow simultaneously too blank and too jumbled, working at breakneck speeds to understand what emotion flashed across her face.

Four!

Her mouth dropped open in a small ‘o’ and her brows creased together as she frantically searched his face for something–he wasn’t sure what. What he did know, was that he wanted to reach out and smooth the skin between her brows, but Rowan watched with ever-growing dread as he waited for her to walk away, throw the paper back at him, or laugh. Something wavered in her expression, a flicker in her eye that Rowan knew meant she’d come to some decision.

He could hardly blink, let alone form words to explain. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to shout the countdown, light some more sparklers, and finish the bottle of champagne. They weren’t supposed to be teetering on the edge of their friendship as Rowan waited for Aelin to say something– anything– about his feelings laid bare.

Three!

Two!

Aelin dropped the paper to the snow-covered ground as she surged forward and gripped the lapels of Rowan’s jacket tightly in her hands.

One!

Her lips crashed into his with a ferocity he hadn’t expected. Rowan felt like his brain was short-circuiting as Aelin used her grip to pull him hard against her. His body understood what was happening before his shock-addled mind, and Rowan instantly responded equally as forceful. His hands held her waist, pulling her more firmly against him as their lips molded together. It was a second; it was a lifetime.

Happy New Year!

They broke apart but didn’t move far, breathing heavily as their foreheads rested against one another. Rowan searched Aelin’s face for signs of doubt or regret, but all he saw was a soft smile grace her lips. Her soft, swollen lips that had been kissing his a moment ago. He felt his own stretch into a broad smile as her hands snaked up and around his neck. Rowan tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Happy New Year,” she breathed, a light, happy chuckle escaping as he wound his arms around her.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, just as softly.

Then he dipped his face back down and kissed her again.

*****

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[emilysshortstories]

Paul Lahote Part One

trigger warnings: ??? Nothing yet but not promises that will keep in later parts

words: 1543

It’s in those moments of deep desperation that you find hope. Or it seems to find you. When I left home to live with my uncle, miles away from my home, desperation was the only thing on my mind. Desperately running away, I didn’t want to face that part of my life that I already felt as though I was behind. I wanted to start fresh. I still do, so why does the reason I came here matter? My uncle, Charlie, agreed that he wouldn’t tell a soul about the events that lead me to his home, not even his own daughter. Who never really dropped the subject of course, but knew it wasn’t any of her business. I wasn’t naive enough to actually believe that I wouldn’t have to face problems here, but I think that’s what drew me here. Different problems, and that’s what I got. 

When I first moved here my cousin, Bella, had a boyfriend who she spent most of her time with. She still introduced me to everyone and showed me around, but when he moved things shifted. Bella completely shut down, she was always quiet and reserved, but this was different. She was numb. It took her a really long time to talk to anyone, and when she did, it was only me, Charlie, and her friend Jacob. They were always working on these two motorcycles together, sometimes I would join them. Jacob was nice, clearly had a massive crush on Bella even though she always denied it. 

One day when I tagged along I met Quil and Embry, they also seemed nice but I didn’t talk to them much. I didn’t talk to anyone that lived on the reservation actually, not until I had to stop Bella from doing something stupid. Feels like I’ve been doing that a lot lately. 

She was pissed. I’ve never seen her this angry before. I was a little scared to get in the car with her, but the fear of what she was going to do with this anger overpowered me. I stayed in the car when she stormed into Jacob’s house, but practically leaped out as I saw her approaching “Sam’s cult”. I was too far behind her and couldn’t reach her until she had already slapped one of the boys. “ALRIGHT” I yelled at Bella, getting in between them and seeing the boy start to shake in anger. “What you’re NOT gonna do is pick a fight with Mr. Mc steroids over here.” I continued while looking the boy up and down. We made eye contact. I didn’t want to but I froze and felt something turn in my gut while he immediately stopped shaking. I quickly shook it off and turned back to my crazy cousin. “Lets leave. Get in the fucking car John Cena”, pointing to her truck. I heard a bit of laughter as we walked away, but didn’t turn around. I didn’t even dare look in the rear view mirror as I drove off.

After Bella calmed down she admitted that slapping a 7 foot Greek sculpture wasn’t the smartest move. “They did something to him, I know it. Jacob’s too scared to tell me what’s going on but I’m gonna figure it out.” Bella said with gritted teeth. “Listen, you know Jacob better than I do so it’s your call, but maybe consider the idea that it’s none of your business? You and him have been friends since preschool. I feel like if it was necessary for you to know, he would have told you”. By the time I finished my speech Bella had already shut down. Just like she was before. Broke my heart seeing her like this. Maybe I should talk to Jacob or the “cult”, just be civil about it. 

So that’s what I did. The next day I drove to Jacob’s house, but Billy said he wasn’t home and to try Sam’s place. Well, he said Jacob wasn’t home and I begged him to tell me where he might be. For some reason he caved and told me where to find him and not Bella. I tried not to think about it too much or let my anxiety get the best of me while driving. 

When I knocked on the door, I didn’t expect a small, sweet woman with a huge scar across her face to answer the door. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, I was looking for Jacob?”

“Are you Bella?”

“No, I’m Y/N, Bella’s cousin.”

“Oh. OH!” She seemed really surprised to find out this information. “Jacob it out with Paul right now. Working. They will be back soon though if you would like to come in, the rest of the crowd is here. I’m Emily, Sam’s fiance.”

“Oh I can come back another time, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be silly, we are all friendly and we are dying to get to know you.”

What does that mean? I walked in and saw everyone I saw yesterday but Jacob and the boy Bella slapped. Paul. “Hey Embry, how have you been?” I asked, seeming he was the only person I recognized. “Good, You?”

“I’m ok, just worried about Bella. Wanted to give Jacob a bit of grief for leaving her high and dry. She’s taking it a bit hard, but I also wanted to apologize for how she acted yesterday. Slapping who I assume is Paul wasn’t cool at all. I’m sure she feels really awful about it.”

“It’s not Jacob’s fault for leaving Bella. You don’t have to apologize for Bella, I think we have all wanted to slap Paul at some point in time.” Sam said.

“Got it, but is there anything I can do to get Jacob to talk to Bella again?”

“Jump in line, we all want him to talk about it so we don’t have to hear him monologuing all the time about it.” Embry said, before the third and last boy elbowed him really hard. 

“So none of this is your doing?” I asked all the boys.

“Not exactly, no.” Said Sam. 

“Ok. That’s some clarity at least.” I said with a smile.

“Why don’t you sit down, muffin, before the beasts attack them?” Emily offered a bowl full of muffins the size of Ohio to me.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” I said while taking a muffin and sitting next to Embry. Emily was right that the boys would attack the food, holy shit. “So why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Emily said, seeming excited and sitting across from me. “What do you want to know? I’m pretty much an open book.” 

“What brings you to Forks?” The ONE question I hate.

“Running away from my problems, if i’m being honest. I’ve always loved the rain, needed a change, and my uncle, Charlie, offered me a room. So I took it.”

“I like that, where are you from?”

“Austin.”

“Texas?” said the only boy who I didn’t know.

“No, actually it’s a small secret base on Mars. I’m an alien.” This made everyone laugh, especially the strange boy. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“Jared, you always that sarcastic?”

“Yes, humor is my only likable personality trait.”

“I hear that” said Jared while raising his muffin. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I write, read, and love watching movies and TV shows. I'm a big music lover but I think that’s just a side effect of being born and raised in Austin. Since moving here I’ve really taken up hiking though, it’s so beautiful here. Not just flat desert like in Texas.”

“The only TV show I watch is New Girl, nobody here seems to watch it.” Said Jared and before I even thought it through my favorite Schmit quote fell out of my mouth.

“You would have been my nightmare. We were on very strict instructions from Rabbi Schmolli not to say anything until the very last christian kid found out about Santa Claus. Ruining Christmas? Very bad for our brand.”

Everyone seemed to like me after that and conversation flowed freely. I really liked spending time with everyone and lost track of time until I saw that the sun was going down. “Oh shit, I gotta get going, I’m not used to driving on ice yet and don’t want to drive on these roads when it's dark. Thank you so much for being so nice to me Emily, it was really nice talking to everyone.”

“Oh but Paul isn’t back yet” Emily said quickly. “And Jacob.”

“I can give Jacob shit anytime and I’m sure Paul isn’t my biggest fan after what Bella did so I think it’s a good idea to head out now. Thanks again though.” I said and started making my way to the door. 

“Of course! No problem, please come by again. I liked talking to you too and I’d love you to properly meet Paul.” 

We walked out just as Jacob and Paul emerged from the trees, but as soon as Paul made eye contact with me, that same flip happened in my gut again before he took off running back into the woods. Guess that answers my question on if he’s mad at me.