#its a two way street and you are creating traffic for no reason

[cynically-optomistic]

bizarre to me how the same people who insist we have to hold space for grace and forgiveness for literal neo-nazis and missionizing evangelicals in conversations will feel comfortable turning around and saying the vilest shit about a theoretical satmar bochur who has never been exposed to a different viewpoint and probably never will. No this isnt about something in particular, its a tendency i noticed over the last few years and it pisses me off.

[honorarysimp]

New York State of Mind

series masterlist

day 1

New York City.

The city that never sleeps is winding down for the night, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a softer, quieter atmosphere. The reflection of the sunset on the glass windows of the buildings creates a mesmerizing display of light and color, dancing across the streets below. Here and there people still move about, making their way home from work or heading out for the evening.

The city seems to be taking a moment to breathe, enjoying this brief interlude of peace as lastcasting warm orange glows across the towering skyscrapers.

You’re exhausted. Dog tired. It took two days to get from California to New York, taking into account all the pit stops for varying reasons, both of you catching some sleep at the hotel stop half way through. But god, it’s good to be back home, and you realize this as you maneuver the car through traffic.

Tara is asleep in the passenger seat, one of your hoodies tucked underneath her head as a makeshift pillow, her knees pulled up to her chest as she remains blissfully unaware of reality.

You hate to wake her, because even though you’re use to the traveling and driving, Tara is not.

But she threatened your life prior to her falling asleep, insisting you do so she could take in the city for the first time.

You reach over and rest a hand on her arm, thumb gently trying to coax her awake, “hey, you’re gonna miss sunset” you says gently, which earns you a sleepy grumble as she swats your hand away blindly.

That makes you laugh, sitting back into your seat just as Tara sits up and stretches, running her fingers through her hair as she blinks the remnants of slumber from her dazed mind.

“What-“

Instantly she falls quiet, now fully awake as she peers through the window.

Tara takes in the sight of the bright orange disk of the sun is slowly making its descent from the sky, the light making a warm and bright atmosphere as it shone all throughout the city. It bounced off the reflective windows, casting streaks across the buildings. The light was getting dimmer by the minute, the clouds gaining a more pinkish hue as the sun got closer to disappearing behind the skyline.

Shadows were starting to fill the alleys and crevices as the sun continued its slow journey towards the horizon, the air turning increasingly colder with the dimming of its light.

“Holy shit”.

“Welcome to New York” you say quietly, not giving much attention to the buildings anymore as you instead, take in her awed expression.

The drive to your place is about as quick as you expected, the traffic is something you didn’t miss. But Tara seems happy, watching and soaking in everything. It is a lot, after all, so you don’t blame her.

You only relax once you get the car into the parking garage, the both of you in a daze as you head for the elevator.

“Fuck the bags, we’ll get them later” was all Tara had to say for you to agree without question. It’s a fairly safe area, you’d like to think, but then again you’ve learned nothing is ever as it seems.

But you’re far too tired to give a shit right now.

So when you make it to your apartment, you unlock the door and let Tara walk inside first. Instinctively you kick your shoes off and head down the little hall that leads to the rest of your apartment, only, Tara is paused at the opening.

The apartment is a nice size for New York standards, with bare white walls and open spaces, and a large window that extended from the ceiling to floor. The city skyline was visible from the window, the sun setting on the horizon to the west. The apartment was tastefully furnished, but there was not any personal touches anywhere in it. It was a nice, but slightly cold and sterile, living space.

“In my defense, I moved in here two months before I left for Woodsboro” you mumble sheepishly, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her waist. Tara hums, instantly sinking back into you, and when her head drops back to your shoulder you can’t help but rest your own against hers.

“It’s yours, so it’s perfect”.

You smile, taking a step forward while keeping her in your arms, Tara automatically follows as you guide her to the bedroom.

“Tour later. Sleep now.”

Tara yawns, but smiles softly after, “you better be showing me to the guest bedroom”.

“Unfortunately, there’s only my bed here, I hope that won’t inconvenience you.”

You don’t even bother turning on the light, the last streaks of orange and red giving you just enough visibility to make out the outline of the mattress. To which, Tara promptly drops down on to, pulling you with her. You hear two soft thumps before Tara curls herself against you, probably her shoes hitting the hardwood floor.

“Fuck, don’t wake me up for two days” Tara mumbles as her hand slips under your shirt, fingers curling around your side as she tugs you closer. You exhale and wrap your arms around her, sleep already pulling at your consciousness.

“Hibernation sounds nice” you reply quietly, falling asleep to the sound of her breaths evening out, and the warmth of her body against yours.

Not even the city that never sleeps could keep you awake, the final streams of light dissipating and leaving the room in a comforting darkness.

day 3

The city is vast, it’s loud, and it’s busy.

A contrast to what Tara is use to, having spent most her life in Woodsboro, not even when she went to the city to get her EMT certification compares to this.

God, but she is loving this kind of chaos.

It was overwhelming at first, but seeing you move through the streets and around people like second nature, switching between holding her hand or having your arm around her.

It’s hard not to feel giddy, and Tara hates it, because she is not that kind of girl.

You’ve made plans to go sightsee today, a few marker spots that Tara finds herself genuinely excited for. The tallest building in the country, Central Park, Time Square to name a few.

But when you bring Tara into what you’ve named your “favorite coffee shop in the world”, she suddenly finds herself thinking this is already going to be her favorite pace you’ve taken her. And it’s not even a highlight tourist go-to.

It’s a hole in the wall cafe, spacious on the inside, and it’s got this… energy that instantly has Tara feeling homesick. But in a good way, it makes her smile as her eyes take in the interior.

The coffee shop is a cozy space with walls painted a dark green color. The wooden floor darkly stained, and the furniture a mix of darkly varnished oak and wrought iron. The walls were lined with dark wooden bookshelves, the air thick with the aromatic scent of freshly ground coffee.

The coffee bar itself was a long, gleaming counter, filled with a variety of coffee beans and a vintage espresso machine. The wall behind it lined with a variety of coffee beans and a menu with an array of coffee drinks. The ambiance was a mix of soft and intimate, with low lighting and a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The sound of steamers, coffee being ground, and soft music filled the air. Soft yellow lighting illuminated the space, casting a homey glow in the coffee shop.

Tara is in love.

Approaching the bar, the barista behind the counter instantly lights up at the sight of you.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes! Back in town for a bit?” the barista asks with a wide, familiar smile, which makes Tara look between you in curiosity.

“Showing my girlfriend around, had to bring her by” you say with a proud smile, your eyes finding hers, a subtle squeeze of your fingers that are laced between hers makes her chest ache pleasantly.

The barista then looks to Tara kindly, “first time in New York?”

That makes Tara flush, but she tries to play it off with a shrug as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear “yeah, you could say that”.

“Well whatever you want, it’s on the house, as usual” the barista says with a nod, already grabbing a cup and writing down what Tara is safe to assume - your usual.

It’s only after Tara gives her order, followed by a thank you, when she looks to you in bewilderment.

“On the house? As usual? Do I even want to ask?”

You lean in, giving her hand a small tug, which has her meeting you half way for a soft lingering kiss.

“I know the owner is all”.

“Friend of yours?”

“We’re practically family”.

day 4

The kitchen table is scattered with Polaroids of Tara, a variety of location and purpose.

Tara thought it a good idea, you were quick to claim it as yours.

The sweetest melody filled the apartment, in time with the steadfast and deliberate movement of your tongue.

One of the photos is her in the passenger seat of your car, water bottle raise to her lips as she smiles around the rim, pretending not to notice. It’s the first of them all, if you remember correctly.

Syrup tasting of the sweetest nectar coats your tongue as it parts through soft flesh, a soft thump of something solid against hard wood can be heard. But muffled by the warmth on either side of your head.

Another photo, Tara standing with one arm up, hand blocking the sun from her eyes as she stands amongst the Great Salt Lake Desert. Still, you’re not sure why she insisted you stop, but you’ve learned to never deny her.

Fingers thread through your hair, those black painted nails gently scraping in a silent gesture of encouragement. Your lips caress fruit forbidden, gently sucking and rolling your tongue in turn, the pressure around your head increases. But even then, you distinctly hear her voice raise an octave.

Your favorite photo by far is from Chicago, Illinois. Of all places, there is where a butterfly had grown fond of Tara, her hands gently cupped together as it perches on her thumb. Those pretty orange and yellow wings don’t compare to that awed smile that graces her lips.

Like biting into a peach, your head spins as ambrosia fills your mouth just as she goes taut and rigid, beautiful symphony surpassing its apex and shifting into a slur of curses and garbled swears.

The most recent one, in New York, is simply Tara gazing up with lights of all colors reflecting in those captivating brown eyes. It’s night, on Time Square, and you’re fairly certain this is the only photo she didn’t see you take.

You savor, relish, linger, as long as she needs until she’s completely undone. And as you withdrawal, a smile tugs at your lips.

Amongst the photos is Tara herself, splayed out across your table, flustered and panting and the prettiest haze in her eyes. When they find yours, she automatically mirrors your smile, which has you leaning forward.

Her fingers part from your hair in opt of tenderly cupping your jaw, shakily leaning up off the table just enough to meet you for a messy, but intimate kiss. And when her tongue glides against your bottom lip, you part them just so she will understand why you’ve grown addicted to the taste of her.

This table, a momentary alter, for the woman you’d die for. The woman you surrender yourself to. The woman that is everything to you.

“I love you” you whisper against her lips, an oath, devotion.

You feel her smile, her nose softly nuzzling yours just as her thumb delicately traces your cheekbone, “I love you”.

To you she is a goddess, and you, worshiper.

day 5

“Yeah, no, you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re fucking going anywhere”.

It’s far too amusing watching you in a panic, tearing the cushions off the couch as you search for your tape recorder.

You’d gotten an email for a “quick job” at the precinct, to assist on a case currently underway, as you so vaguely put. So naturally when you stepped out of the room, Tara swiped it and hid it.

You’ll never leave without it, and thus, gives Tara the time she needs to remind you of all the reasons you won’t be leaving.

Not to mention, Tara is determined to win this. “You promised this two weeks would be about us” she points out, crossing her arms and pinning you with a glare you haven’t noticed yet.

“I can’t say no to work” you say once more, ducking down to look under the couch.

“Yes you can, it’s so simple. It’s literally one vowel”.

“Tara it’s work, it’s what pays-“

“Don’t you bullshit me, I know for a fact Sidney overcompensated you, so you’d better have a plausible fucking excuse for trying to abandon me.”

It’s a low blow, but it gets Tara the reaction she wants.

That makes you sit up, and from where Tara is standing she has to force herself to keep a straight face. As the way your head pops up just over the top of the couch with that look of irritation, only amuses her further.

“Where is it Tara” you say as you stand, your tone unyielding as you begin to crawl over the couch.

“Up your ass, is where” Tara counters, circling the couch before you can reach her.

“Babe-“

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, you’ve been revoked of your title until you promise me you aren’t going.”

A stare off ensues, your hands gripping the back of the couch as she stands opposite of you, arms still crossed. You’re breaking, fighting back a smile, and Tara is far better with her poker face than you.

“You’re. Not. Going.”

“I have to work, I can’t just say no” you sigh, shoulders starting to deflate, which is a signal to Tara she’s most definitely got you right where she wants you.

“Yes you can” Tara says as she uncrosses her arms, walking forward and dropping to her knees on the couch in front of you, purposefully looking up at you under hooded eyes and smiling softly, “like this”.

And in one swift movement, Tara tilts her head up and kisses you slowly. Her hands curl into the fabric of your shirt, tugging you forward gently. Seducing, enticing, whatever you want to call it. You aren’t leaving.

And from the way you lean forward into her, letting her tug you over the couch and down on to the messily placed cushions, you know it too.

“You’re a bad influence” you say quietly, she silences you by grazing her teeth against your bottom lip.

“Come on, work can wait” Tara runs her hands up your chest, her fingers loosely curling around the back of your neck as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

“You’re seriously going to leave me here, alone, in your apartment without you? When I came all this way just for you?”

Hook, and sinker.

Tara sees the fight to hold yourself responsible shatter, especially when she knows how much you can’t argue against her statement.

“Fuck, okay, yeah you’re right” you sigh, your head dropping to her shoulder.

Tara doesn’t even try to stifle her triumphant laugh, tugging you down to lay next to her as she blindly reaches for the remote. The item hastily discarded on the floor in your search for your tape recorder.

Which, you seem to have completely forgotten about, no thanks to Tara.

You will reap minor consequences later, but fuck it, Tara wins.

day 6

“Please don’t laugh, this is serious, Tara”.

She bites her lip, watching you carefully as you shift from the countertop by the sink to the adjacent one next to the stove, you’re just so goddamn endearing.

It’s hard not to watch you these days, the little mannerisms you have as you fidget about. Especially when you’re cooking. The way you pop your knuckles amidst a temporary pause, train of thought escaping you.

The way your tongue sticks out just the slightest from the right corner of your mouth when you’re concentrating far too hard. That subtle small smile that tugs at your lips as your hands move with practiced fluidity.

Tara wishes she could say she was paying attention to what you’re saying, what you’re doing, but she pretty much tuned out after you told her this was a recipe your best friend’s mom had taught you back in your adolescence.

It’s not her fault she finds you captivating when you’re just being yourself, you’re definitely talking to her and she’s definitely offering a small nod of acknowledgement here and there.

Only when you swipe a bit of sauce on to your finger and offer it to her, does Tara snap out of her thoughts. Recoiling back a from where her chin had been rested on her balled fists, elbows slipping off the counter.

“Oh god no, I don’t know where those fingers have been” Tara says as she makes a face, which only makes you let out a belly laugh that causes Tara’s heart to flutter.

“Tara you know exactly where these fingers have been” you say with innuendo, giving her an expectant look as you offer the sample of sauce gathered on your finger.

“Exactly.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully and stepping away, bringing your finger to your own mouth “I did wash them before I started cooking, not that it matters”.

Tara bites back a smile, she can’t help it, its habit. But god it’s hard when you’re always doing the most mundane or stupidest shit that has her fighting off the involuntary action.

Just as you’re filling both plates with pasta and what you call “garlic bread”, Tara told you butter and garlic salt on toast doesn’t count, she decides to approach a topic she’s been trying to find a way to address in the most subtle way possible.

Then again, Tara has never been good at that.

“Baby I love you, but I need human interaction, preferably with the people that love you”.

The sudden statement has you pausing, looking over to her with an expression that’s a mixture of emotions.

“You’ve got me, isn’t that enough?” You say with a half smile as you continue scooping pasta on to the plates.

Expected of you, that tiptoe of a reply. You’re good at it and Tara gives you props, but she knows if she asks straightforward that you won’t be able to tell her no. Only she doesn’t want to have to ask, because that’s not the point.

The point should be that you want to introduce her to the people in your life. But you’re hesitant, why Tara still isn’t sure, however considering her relationship with her own parents. Tara is the last to judge.

“You’re more than enough, but it’s my turn to know you. Is that so hard to believe?”

That makes you pause, and this is one of those moments Tara finds herself prideful with how well she’s learned to read you. How you register she’s throwing your own words back at you, the smile that breaks out across your face tells her it all.

“Okay. I’m hearing you. You’re right” you sigh softly, doing that thing where you square your shoulders when you’re getting serious, “how about tomorrow? It’s a weekend day? I’m sure everyone will be free”.

It’s this moment that Tara’s excitement instantly shifts into dread as she realizes she’s actually going to meet the people that matter to you. Your people.

Now, Tara is a people person, she deals with people all the time with what she does for a living. The hardest of them to the most broken.

But this? This terrifies her, and even when you lean in to press the softest of kisses to her temple, her insides churn uneasily.

What if they don’t approve?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a wine bottle popping, making Tara’s eyes snap over to where you’re pouring two glasses. You offer her one, to which she gladly takes, a soft clink following the two glasses meeting. That fucking smile gets her every time. So full of love.

And then Tara comes to a second realization, that she doesn’t care.

Because having you? Tara needs nothing more.

day 7

You’d think for a Saturday, the pub would be packed.

The pub itself is a cozy and lively space, with a warm and inviting atmosphere. It’s larger than a typical small town bar, with a bar on one end and a few round tables scattered around the space. The walls were painted a deep red color, and the floor was made of dark wood. Soft, warm lighting cast from lights woven through the wooden rafters along the ceiling, and a small corner of the space was set up with a pool table. Chatter and laughter fills the space as a handful of patrons mill about drinking.

Tara can say with pride she’s finally met three of your childhood friends.

So far, Anika is her favorite. She’s full of life, positivity, and an abundance of embarrassing stories from your younger years. You two banter back and forth like siblings, your incessant desire to remind her you’re two months older. Anika quick to remind you who made sure you actually took care of yourself so that you somewhat functioned like a normal human being.

Tara doesn’t even try to hide her smile.

Ethan is quiet, but not in a bad way, more of a wallflower. His comments are an attempt to insert himself into conversation, Tara takes note of the way you always give his shoulder a reassuring pat paired with a wide smile. How he eases, his discomfort by the public space alleviating.

To balance the group, is Quinn, the wild card. From observation Tara can tell she’s the polar opposite of her brother Ethan. When she isn’t eyeing any man or woman she considers attractive that walks into the pub, the redhead is assessing Tara with a subtle smirk. A flirt through and through without question. She’s charismatic, quick witted, and a bit air headed.

The dynamic works, oddly enough, and Tara lives for it. Being present, seeing you with your friends, and she can tell how much they care for you. It’s clear you’ve all been through a lot together, which only deepens her curiosity on your past further.

You don’t talk about it, this is the closest taste to understanding what makes you who you are that Tara has ever come.

But that’s a question for another time, perhaps in the privacy of just the two of you.

When your laughter rings out, full of warmth and from your belly, Tara’s smile softens. You look so happy, so complete, and when your eyes meet she has one simple thought.

Tara is completely, stupidly, in love with you.

She isn’t sure when she fell, and it’s not like she didn’t already figure as much, but it’s without a doubt now.

And then comes the question she’d been waiting for all night.

“So how did you two meet?” it’s Ethan that asks, boyish grin and curiosity in his expression.

You and Tara share a look, having already made an agreement prior not to mention the… darker details.

“Well, I asked her for drinks-“

“Oh bullshit, that’s not how it started and you know it” Tara instantly cuts you off, grinning as you give her an accusing look, which only makes your friends laugh.

“Tell us how it really went Tara, god knows your local lover over here was probably a blubbering mess” Anika comments, which instantly has you trying to voice a rebuke.

Tara quickly slaps a hand over your mouth, a wicked grin growing across her face “this one was hopeless from the start, but it’s not like I made it easy-“

You swat her hand away, jumping on it with a dramatic scoff, “oh come on I totally wooed you with my charm and pool playing skills-“

“You didn’t win once”.

“Yeah but-“

“And you quit smoking cigarettes because I told you about my asthma.”

That has all three of your friends in disbelief, Anika praising Tara for getting you to quit. Quinn is instantly giving you shit for buckling so quick, and Ethan is completely flabbergasted.

“No fucking way. Did you freeze hell over or something?”

Tara grins smugly, ignoring the way you’re sputtering out, slowly giving up trying to defend yourself.

“You were snatching my cigarettes from me for days, don’t act like you didn’t-“

“Just admit it, you were down bad. I only had to mention it once”.

You suddenly smile, giving her a look that sends a small shiver down her spine, “yeah well you acted like you didn’t care but you just couldn’t help yourself”.

Okay, true, but Tara isn’t backing down.

She reaches up and grabs your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, making your face scrunch in a cute way.

“Come on, with this face? I was bound to cave eventually.”

It makes everyone laugh harder than they should, and you smile more than you should, but when she kisses you it’s full of love.

It’s always been love, even if it took you both some time to get there.

“You better keep her or I’m disowning you”.

The kiss breaks, you huff in irritation, Tara laughs brightly as she leans against you.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Anika”.

day 9

The bathroom is dimly lit by a few tall candles placed around the space, casting a soft and warm glow in the room.

The air was filled with the scent of the candles, a compilation of different fragrances mixed together. The space felt secluded and cozy, on the bathroom counter is your vinyl record player, the sweet lyrics of The Louvre playing over the faint sound of the candles crackling.

The lighting isn’t all that makes the intimate atmosphere, the small bath was filled to the brim with warm, bubbly water, creating a cozy space for the two of you within. The tub is narrow, forcing you to be close to one another as you relax in the water. Despite the tight quarters, you’re comfortable together, the clumps of suds providing the only barrier on the water surface.

Tara is currently nestled between your legs, her back flush to your front. You’re fitted together perfectly, always perfectly, it’s almost cliché to conclude you had to have been made for each other.

Her eyes are closed, hair pulled back into a messy bun as she relaxes her head back into the crook of your neck. If it weren’t for the way her thumb gently caresses your knuckles where your fingers are interlocked, you’d be quick to assume she’d fallen asleep.

You hum along quietly to the music, your free hand coming up to absently tuck a strand of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. The corners of her mouth twitch, and she leans back into you further. If that is at all possible.

“I could get use to this” Tara murmurs after a lapse of silence, the soft words filling the tranquility.

“Me too” you whisper against the curve of her ear, your heart fluttering as you notice small goosebumps form on what skin you can see. Even when surrounded by the warm water the tub provides.

It’s moments like this, with Tara, that make you wonder if this was all you’d ever needed your whole life. Just life, with her.

That thought alone, makes you far more grateful that you made the choices you did, that led you to Tara in the first place.

Having Tara here in New York, away from the otherworldly chaos, no expectations or unavoidable demands from anything or anyone.

It makes you appreciate even the hard times, and the lessons it taught you. Never did you think you’d ever be this happy, this at peace.

You’re completely, unabashedly, in love with her.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think it can get better than this.

day 10

Tara and Anika are bonding over how you need decorations, that your apartment is too bland.

You aren’t sure whether this is a good thing or not.

“You’re fucked, bud” Ethan comments as he lays down a red nine amongst the discard pile laying in the middle of your coffee table.

“What’s mine is hers” you say with a ghost of a smile, dropping a red four.

Quinn snorts in amusement from your left, placing a green four on top of your card which has both you and Ethan groaning.

“Uno, also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this with a girl before” Quinn says as she shoots you a smirk just as Ethan drops a green draw two, “and that’s saying a lot all considering I’ve never seen you serious with anyone”.

You roll your eyes, pulling from the draw deck and sighing with relief as you drop the green eight you’d gotten.

“Like you have room to talk, you haven’t even been in a relationship-“

Ethan snickers when Quinn grabs a pillow off the couch and smacks you in the back of the head with it, making you suck in air through your teeth as you rip the pillow from her.

Raising it, ready to strike-

“Dont you dare, behave” you hear Anika scold, making you pause mid-movement, shooting her a glare that doesn’t even hold light to the one you’re receiving from her.

The fact Tara is hiding a laugh behind her hand doesn’t help either.

“How about you stop jumping on my case, huh? My apartment is fine the way it is” you shoot towards the both of them, squaring your shoulders.

“You need life in here, some art on the walls won’t kill you” Tara tries to add in, to which Quinn follows up with her own opinion.

As always.

“I agree, these walls are as bland as Ethan’s dating life-“

You swing the pillow down on Quinn, cutting her sentence off as she yelps at the abrupt flop of the pillow against the side of her head.

“CHILDREN” Anika groans, Tara laughing as she watches you and Quinn start shoving at each other while Ethan argues his case on his dating life.

It falls on deaf ears.

“-what’s the point in decorating if I might move to Woodsboro to be with Tara, anyways” you say abruptly, which has Quinn stop on her assaults to look over to the woman in question. Everyone does.

Tara however, doesn’t miss a beat as she holds your gaze, expression unreadable as she raise one singular eyebrow.

“And if I decide I want to move to New York?”

A subtle tension fills the apartment, not even Quinn has anything to say for once.

“You guys joining in on this now? Or what?” Ethan cuts the silence with his effort to change the subject, and for once it helps as Anika and Tara head over to jump in on the card game.

Quinn shoots you a look as she regathers the cards, but you don’t have time to wonder what it means as Tara drops down to sit on the ground next to you. Purposefully bumping her shoulder into yours harder than necessary.

You whip your head around, jaw set and eyes narrowed playfully. Even when she’s trying to look serious, you know it’s not that deep.

But, it is.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, you know” you mutter to her as Anika demands that she be the one to distribute the cards, since Quinn is known to cheat.

As argument breaks out between the two of them, you and Tara find yourselves in a momentary bubble. Your eyes searching hers, she doing the same to yours.

“Tomorrow” she mutters, her hand gliding across the rug, your own instinctively slipping off the table to rest atop hers.

It’s a silent agreement, because the conversation won’t be easy, but even that doesn’t matter.

You’re pretty sure you’re both going to be on the same page.

Quinn ends up winning the next three games of Uno.

You accuse Ethan of slipping her cards again, she does have the better poker face than him after all.

And when he turns beet red, sputtering, war breaks out.

This. This is your family, it always has been. And with Tara?

It feels complete.

day 11

Intimacy comes in many forms, as does affection.

But with you? It’s indescribable.

The level of comfort and safety she feels with you is almost scary, with how quickly she opened up to you. Tara should’ve been terrified.

But if you’ve ever been right about anything, is that Tara just couldn’t help herself.

Tara raged to Sam about you back in Woodsboro on two separate occasions.

The first, after the incident at the lake with Wes. After she’d found you at that diner when she’d gotten off her shift late. After she’d gotten to know you a little better.

The second, was after you’d tried to leave. After you’d returned, told her you’d only come back for her. Reminded her how you’d promised to never leave her, after trying to leave her.

During Tara’s first rant, Sam had told her to stay away from you. How you were nothing but trouble from the outside, how you were reckless and acted with intrusive behavior. By the second, Sam was giving Tara a look somewhere close to sympathetic, with a dash of understanding.

Tara is pretty sure Sam knew before she knew back then, even with her initial reluctance towards you.

But now, as the two of you lay in your bed, a tangle of limbs that leaves wonder where you start and Tara ends. Tara knows.

Not even the movie playing idly in the background helps quiet Tara’s thoughts. The last few days have meant so much to her, life with you is everything she didn’t know she needed.

Tara hates that she is having a hard time admitting that to herself, because even with the phone calls back home to her friends and Sam, she’s painfully reluctant to return.

Or maybe, she’s just grown comfortable being checked out of reality. Now knowing the comfort of your arms, your home, your people, your life. She likes normalcy. She likes the absence is stress, wondering if someone she knows will disappear in a month.

Tara is starting to worry that there’s a slight chance, her trauma is catching up to her, now that she has room to breathe. To love. To live.

Can she go home? Can she leave you? It’s already a miracle that she found you.

Well, technically, you found her. She simply cradles the gift that is your heart in the palm of her scarred hand.

Does she deserve it? She deserves to be happy, just like anyone else. But at what cost? Will it be worth it, if it’s not what she’s desperately hoping it to be? Will this break her? Will you break her?

“You’re thinking awful hard” you murmur softly, your hand that had been idly scratching her back affectionately comes up to dip your fingers under her chin. The small touch has Tara lift her head off your chest, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you fully.

“I can’t be that predictable already”.

“Not at all, but you’ve got a giveaway” you say with a small smile.

That makes Tara scoff quietly, smacking your chest gently, which only makes you laugh as she protests “I do not!”

“You get this tension right here” you reach up to delicately trace the space between her eyebrows, “that and you haven’t made a single comment on the bad acting in this movie”.

She can’t help but smile at that, even as she rolls her eyes “yeah whatever”.

You’re analyzing her, she feels it, so she continues before you ask.

“What are we doing?”

Of course she expects a quip, sarcasm, a witty comment to ease her thoughts. Instead, you do better.

“I’d like to think there is a place where someone loves you both before, and after they learn what sustains you from the inside. And us-“ you pause, raising your hand with her palm pressed to yours.

“We’re just trying to find where that will home us, together” you trace her fingers with yours, captivated by the simple feeling of her skin against yours.

Tara never understood the depth of yearning for someone, anything. But when her eyes find yours, and finds just how deep your love for her runs, it hurts almost as much as it reassures her.

Which now begs the question: New York or Woodsboro? Somewhere in between?

“I can’t take you from your home”.

“Then you know I can’t ask the same of you” you reply just as softly, “I don’t care where-“

“Me either”.

A pause.

This pause, this moment of intimate silence, was a strange comfort, like a warm embrace on a cold night. There was no need for words, no need for argument. If there’s one thing you’ll never struggle with, is communicating, and that alone guarantees that eventually.

Eventually, you’ll come to a solution.

In this perfect, peaceful silence, there was an unspoken understanding between the two, an understanding that words alone could never express. It was a moment that transcended language, a moment that spoke in a language all its own, a language of trust, love, and connection.

It offered no resolute answer, and it doesn’t help that Tara flies home tomorrow.

But just maybe, right now, there didn’t need to be.

previous, next

[thecoffeelorian]

Everyone's Got Secrets... (House Husband AU)

A/N: When I first saw Pedro Pascal’s character rushing into battle at the start of this movie, my very first thought of him was this:

He moved in for the kill, just like a wolf.

What does that have to do with fanfiction, you might ask…? Simple. When you add to this the legend that a wolf helped create the city of Rome, my love of the 'Way Of The House Husband' show, and a chat with @braveincafleet , then you may figure out that this is how my little House Husband AU came to be.

Anyway...I hope you enjoy this just as much as I do, and if so, be sure to give it some love before you go back to your scrolling. Thanks! <3

Story Premise: This is a little intro/infodumped backstory for a modern/ex-Mafia version of General Acacius, as that seems to be a writing style I've consistently had over multiple fandoms. It's also a version where he's (obviously) retired and settled down with the modern version of Lucilla Verus, though there are still glimpses of what he used to be like here and there if one is looking hard enough.

Story Word Count: 779 words.

Special Notes: So...maybe I'll turn this into a series someday, maybe I won't. Until then, I'll try and poke around to find more Lucilla x Marcus fics as soon as I possibly can.

No Pressure Tags:

@sweetperfectioncloud @letsgobarbs @rav3n-pascal22 @lilac-boo @iseefire16

@ultra-nina-bella @lunnaisjustvibing @blueheisenbergtragedy @vichons @mysticalgalaxysalad

@hicanivent @marvelforever352 @thischarmingmandalorian and anyone else who would like to read more stories about our favorite General. ;)

Justin Acacius was, according to the neighbors of Imperator Street, a fairly cultured man who wouldn’t dare break the laws of their fair city. Indeed, all outward appearances have never given them reason to think otherwise, for any red flag moments have not yet presented themselves.

For example, by day, he keeps the household of their esteemed Head Curator, Lucilla Gherardi, in perfect working order. This includes making sure that Lucilla herself never leaves the house without a homemade lunch in her possession, because there isn’t much work that a person can accomplish on an empty stomach. During the rare moments that she does, however, it’s not long before he’s on the nearest available bicycle to catch up with her, sometimes even breaking local traffic laws just to get there in time.

(Thank goodness the nearby law enforcement have learned to let him off easy by now.)

Second, there’s what this couple’s closest neighbors have come to label as “Piero Watch”, the daily sighting of the family dog on its walk around 9:15 am every day, most often with Mr. Acacius getting somewhat pulled along behind them. After all, sometimes dogs will go exactly where you don’t want them to go.

Third, whereas some neighbors are occasionally guilty of noise pollution, there's no such disturbance from Signor Acacius' side of the street. Sometimes he brings a friend or two over for short visits, sometimes he goes out for last minute groceries like the supplies needed to make homemade pasta--oh, but never will any strange women be seen going into that house beside him.

He's married, obviously, so he's not about to throw away a good life on one foolish act.

And speaking of foolish acts…neither will anyone notice this gentleman plotting any violence behind Lucilla’s back while she’s out of the house. That’s a vice best left for lesser men, for instead of any shady dealings, he’s much more likely to get into surprise “Cutest Dog” duels with passersby like Mr. Macrinus, as there’s quite the following for groups like these over social media these days.

As Macrinus himself may tell you, these sorts of “battles” will leave no fatal wounds behind them, and all parties involved will go home satisfied.

And finally, by the time that night falls, there’s not much of a change other than the occasional smoke break, if not also the even rarer trip outdoors for a few last minute groceries. In other words, though he might be a slightly imposing figure at times…there’s absolutely nothing to fear where Mr. Acacius is concerned.

At least, not if you’re the average, well-to-do citizen…because for those who wear their sunglasses a bit darker, their skin a bit more tattooed, and keep one eye over their shoulder, it’s a slightly different story.

Should any members of this crowd pass Mr. Acacius in the streets, the title “Il Lupo” is the name they speak. Sometimes they say it with a voice full of fear, sometimes with awe, but all, regardless of their age, status, or sometimes even gender, as this is the 21st Milennia, don’t dare stick around too long.

For the individuals in charge of such groups, be they The Twins in the center to The Emperor a bit further north, they will on occasion ask Acacius’ advice on what seem like trivial matters, such as the right temperature to roast a head of garlic or what is the best detergent to wash out a bloodstain or several—oh, but always from clumsy kitchen accidents rather than any violent executions.

In case you haven’t heard, these modern people don’t do that sort of thing any more.

That’s as far as the mystery reaches, of course, for as the dead can’t reveal any secrets and the living wish to keep their honor, nobody’s ever going to consider speaking up instead. It’s highly doubtful any average person will ever know the truth about Mr. Acacius, either, as there are no known books or magazines ever published that might otherwise hint about his true identity.

If someone were to happen upon the oldest man on the same street where Mr. Acacius lives, however—specifically, the one with a faded SPQR tattoo upon one arm and no photographs of grandchildren in plain sight—maybe they’ll one day hear the story of how the one known as Il Lupo, the one who looks suspiciously like Justin, narrowly escaped life in an Italian prison. Maybe they’ll also hear all about how he became a married man not long afterward, and curiously moved to the very same street address where Mr. Acacius now lives.

But then again…a story’s just a story, wouldn’t you agree?

[temozarela]

-> who are you, really?

GOJO SATORU CHARACTER STUDY loneliness, philosophy, ijichi, mentions of death, angst, morality

satoru didn’t want to die, but it’s not always that simple, is it?

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

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The streets of Shibuya were bustling, the murmurs of passers-by and the low mumbling of traffic hanging in the air like steam, seeping through the earphones in Satoru’s ears. He was stood outside the train station, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for any sort of motivation to spark in his brain, to finally force him to text Ijichi for a ride home. Numbly, he stared at the ground, a frown tugging at his lips.

There were times, not often, where he’d entertain his brain, and let the cogs run wild until the metal grated against itself painfully, and the rust tarnished the surface. When allowed to, the brain catastrophises. It creates a network of tunnels as microscopic as a neutron, and as significant as a galaxy, and wriggles its way out of chronic stress. There are hundreds of thousands of people in Shibuya. Murderers, tourists, mothers, psychopaths, students, dentists, homeless... Personality is merely the colour you paint your walls, or the clothes you wear. When stripped away, it’s all the same: walls and a human body. That’s the way Satoru saw it. Everyone has the same brain. The same brain that burrows so many tunnels, and unknowingly digs its own grave. The ‘what if’s and ‘what then’s, the lefts and rights all lead to the same, inevitable outcome, the same full stop where the brain can no longer rip possibilities out from the ground. Death. Ironic, isn’t it? Satoru didn’t want to die, but it’s not always that simple, is it?

He had experienced his fair share of episodic stresses. It would be easy to blame his stress on the deaths of Amanai and Suguru. You wouldn’t be wrong, but the worst losses were the ones he never had. The absence of childhood, the absence of true freedom, the absence of being able to rebel, and say no, the absence of a life where he could have come home to parents who saw him as their boy. A lonely, inconsolable envy gnawed at his guts at the thought that Nanami was able to just… leave… and that it was ok. Millions of lives weren’t put in imminent danger, the lives of vulnerable students weren’t uselessly thrown away- Nanami could choose what he wanted. Satoru could never do that. It was an envy that was expertly hidden, and mistaken. He didn’t think too hard about feelings. Most likely the reason that when they caught up with him, it stung.

Wanting to die and wishing you could start again to live a different life are synonymous. Well, the intention is anyway. If he thought about it really hard, maybe he’d take a moment to imagine coming back to a home that smelled like homemade curry and fresh bread. The warm kitchen lights would be on, and maybe there’d be arms wide open to embrace him. If he tried to visualise the figure waiting for him, he probably wouldn’t be able to. His albino eyebrows would furrow and his lips would twitch as he’d try to think harder. Yet, the grey fuzzy arms around him and the grey fuzzy face tucked into the crook of his neck would refuse to contort into the features of a face he could recognise or love. If he tried again, the figure would probably change size. Perhaps into something more masculine. It wouldn't matter much to him. If he really thought about it, he probably could’ve been a high school teacher. Maybe physics.

The greatest pleasure of Satoru’s childhood was being a problem child. The pure joy of watching rage spread across Yaga’s brutish face was unrivaled, but unlike most, his childhood only lasted two years. According to modern scientists, the personality is set in stone at 6, as is your frontal lobe at 25. Yet at 6, he was silent, uptight, and prickly. At 16, he was flippant, annoying, and chaotic, and at 26, he was spontaneous, childish, and aloof. In that case, what even was personality, if not the lexemes others would describe you with? Satoru didn’t know. The words he learned to respond with and the jokes he learned to tell were simply a result of successful interactions observed from others. The few interests he had were those of the people he’d met. The people he liked were those who didn’t inconvenience him. Most would probably say the same thing, so who was he, really? If you were to ask those he knew, he’d be convinced that they’d all say the same thing.

He’s the strongest.

That’s who he was, right?

He didn’t fuss with the details: what he wore, how he decorated, how he acted… it didn’t matter. He was defined by one word. It didn’t matter who he told people he was, who people said he was, the personality tests, MBTI and astrological signs were useless. Satoru didn’t stress it, after all, he’s never had to introduce himself in his life.

Infinite Void was cold. Space must’ve been cold, because Infinite Void was freezing. His skin would prickle as smudges of stars, galaxies, and planets would engulf him in a rapid blur that would give any normal person chronic vertigo. Unlike the icy breezes of midwinter Tokyo, the chill of Infinite Void was still- a sudden existence of negative temperatures that just appeared, as if a switch had been flicked. The cold was infectious. It would seep through his pores, before winding around his skeleton like a boa constrictor, milking out the warmth from his muscles. It wasn’t the kind of cold that makes your fingertips go numb, and your cheeks to flush. Rather, it went straight to the heart in a way which made his stomach churn. To Satoru, it could only really be compared to the feeling of desperately dry heaving with an empty stomach. Apparently, the victim’s experience is tenfold.

Sometimes he’s reminded of the time when Suguru showed him the trolley problem at 15.

“Huh? That’s so stupid!”

“Just answer the question!”

“Who the hell chooses to kill more people?”

“Satoru, why is their life worth more than theirs?”

“Never said theirs was, just said there are less of them.”

“The larger row may consist of terrible people though.”

“The fuck you want me to do? Stop the trolly and get to know them? At that point, I might as well not hit anyone.”

“…Satoru, I don’t think you’re getting this.”

“I think you’re getting far more than there actually is, Suguru.”

“Come on, Satoru.”

“Though… if I swerve, I can get all of them.”

“You’re awful.”

And again, a year later.

“Should we kill them all?”

And again, 12 years later.

“The execution is still on, but I got your sentence suspended.”

“Suspended? So you’re not killing me right away?”

Again and again, despite everyone, he always ended up trying to choose the option that cost the least lives. It never seemed to work out in the end though. Would it have been easier to stray from the school and go rogue with Suguru? Probably. Would it have been easier to execute the boy who consumed Sukuna’s finger? Definitely. It was so easy to see in hindsight, but every time he still took off in the same direction. Satoru felt like a dog nipping at his own tail. The solution was so close, yet so far. He knew exactly what it was, but it seemed he never learned.

When he was a teenager, he overheard muffled voices of Yaga and the higher-ups.

“…Too much responsibility for one boy.”

It was foreign to his ears, hearing someone say that about him. It never occurred to him that it was something that could be said about him. Satoru had never been a boy before. In the Gojo estate, he had often wondered what boys even did. When he had asked Suguru, he had earned a strange look.

“What do you even mean by that?”

“‘Dunno, just answer.”

“Nagged my mother and kicked a ball around the garden for a bit.”

“Huh? When did you train?”

“I… didn’t?”

“Oh.”

…Was that what it meant to a boy?

To say the least, when it came to be, Satoru was delighted to be a boy. To hear it bellowed from Yaga’s office after he started a fire in the kitchens, to hear it scowled from an elder’s lips after he refused work. It was his pleasure.

Even at his adult age, hearing Shoko say ‘he has the body of a man and the mind of a boy’ was some sort of sad comfort. Really, he never placed his finger on why, but he was sure he could if he wanted to.

Suddenly, Satoru was snapped back to reality. His phone, of which he had been haphazardly dangling between his thumb and forefinger, vibrated with a message- from Ijichi.

I didn’t hear from you so I came anyway. I’m outside.

Satoru tucked his phone into his pocket, stretching his arms in front of him. Sure enough, through the mess of pedestrians, he could see the glistening, black Mercedes parked by the curb.

It was almost as if he were a mind-reader. Despite his seemingly perpetual nerves, Ijichi was almost like a lifeline for Satoru. He was one of the consistent pillars of his life. From underwhelming dates to gruelling missions, Satoru knew that it would always end in the passenger seat of Ijichi’s Mercedes. It’s just how it was. Seemingly, even with minimal genuine and meaningful interaction, a lonely string of childish trust connected Satoru to him, albeit perhaps unrequited.

Another wave of chattering pedestrians flooded towards Satoru as the traffic lights turned red. He tensed, awkwardly wading through the crowd as he approached Ijichi. At his arrival, the passenger side window rolled down.

“Home?” Ijichi asked, leaning over the passenger seat to address him.

Satoru shook his head, “The school, Ijichi.”

Ijichi muttered something under his breath as he adjusted his posture, allowing Satoru to get in.

“Got something to say, Ijichi?” He teased him, lightly.

“No!” Ijichi spluttered, clumsily starting the engine.

Satoru closed his eyes as Ijichi pulled away from the curb, joining the queue of city traffic. He could trust that Ijichi wouldn’t attempt to start any small talk. The cogs in his brain clanged, grating to a stop as the comforting spell of lavender sleep washed over him. Usually, he didn’t let his mind run away from him, but when he did- man was it exhausting.

[tnsigns]

Why ACP Sign Board is the First Choice for Shops and Offices in Chennai

In a bustling city like Chennai, where competition is high and first impressions matter, businesses are always looking for ways to stand out. Whether it's a local clothing store in T. Nagar or a modern office in Guindy, signage is one of the most critical elements of branding. Among the various signage options available today, the ACP sign board has emerged as the top choice for many shops and offices in Chennai—and for good reason. But what exactly makes the ACP sign board so popular? Why are more and more Chennai-based businesses choosing this material over others like flex, wood, or vinyl? Let’s break it down.

What is an ACP Sign Board? An ACP sign board is made from Aluminium Composite Panel, which consists of two aluminium sheets bonded to a non-aluminium core. This material is known for its strength, smooth surface, and durability. The front surface is ideal for printing, vinyl pasting, and even 3D acrylic letters, making it a versatile canvas for any branding design. At TNSigns, we specialize in crafting premium ACP signage solutions tailored to the unique needs of Chennai businesses—whether you're a small retailer or a corporate office.

Weather Resistance Suited for Chennai's Climate Chennai experiences extreme weather—scorching summers, heavy monsoons, and occasional coastal humidity. One of the major reasons why businesses opt for an ACP sign board is its high resistance to weather elements. Unlike wooden or flex boards that warp or fade over time, ACP boards retain their finish and shape for years. For businesses, this means low maintenance and long-lasting performance, which ultimately leads to better ROI.

Modern and Professional Appearance If you're aiming for a clean, polished look for your shop or office, the ACP sign board delivers exactly that. With its smooth, metallic surface, sharp edges, and compatibility with acrylic 3D letters or LED lights, it adds a modern and premium feel to your branding. In a competitive market like Chennai, where customers often judge a business by its storefront, an attractive ACP sign board can influence foot traffic and build trust from the first glance.

Customizable to Fit Any Business No two businesses are the same—and neither should their signage be. ACP boards can be custom-cut, color-matched, and finished in matte, glossy, or brushed textures, making them ideal for different industries, from salons and cafes to IT companies and jewelry showrooms. At TNSigns, we work closely with clients to create custom ACP sign board designs that reflect your brand’s personality and industry standards. Whether it’s a sleek black board with gold letters for a boutique or a vibrant, backlit panel for a restaurant, we make it happen.

Easy to Combine with Lighting and Acrylic The real magic happens when you combine ACP with LED backlit lighting or 3D acrylic letters. ACP boards provide a sturdy base for mounting these elements, helping you create eye-catching displays that are visible even at night. This combination is perfect for Chennai’s busy high streets, where signs need to grab attention quickly— day or night. Our team at TNSigns specializes in integrating lighting with ACP signs to ensure your brand shines, literally.

Cost-Effective in the Long Run Many business owners in Chennai are budget-conscious—and rightly so. While the initial cost of an ACP sign board might be slightly higher than other options, the long-term benefits far outweigh the investment. Thanks to its durability, low maintenance, and weather resistance, ACP signs don’t require frequent replacements or repairs. Plus, they maintain their aesthetic appeal for years, giving you excellent value for money.

Quick Installation with Minimal Disruption Opening a new shop or renovating an office can be a stressful time. The last thing you need is a signage installation that delays your launch or disrupts business hours. Luckily, ACP boards are lightweight and easy to install. At TNSigns, we ensure smooth and efficient installation of your ACP sign board, so you can focus on your business while we take care of the rest. Our experienced team ensures that your signage is perfectly mounted, aligned, and finished—every time.

Eco-Friendly and Recyclable As sustainability becomes more important, especially in urban centers like Chennai, ACP stands out as an eco-friendly signage solution. The aluminium used in ACP boards is recyclable, making it a responsible choice for environmentally conscious businesses.

Final Thoughts When it comes to branding your shop or office, signage isn’t just a necessity—it’s an investment. And in Chennai’s competitive business environment, the ACP sign board offers the perfect balance of style, durability, and functionality. It’s no surprise that it’s the first choice for businesses of all sizes across the city. Looking for a reliable partner to design and install your ACP sign board in Chennai? 👉 TNSigns is your go-to signage expert, delivering premium quality, fast turnaround times, and customized solutions to help your brand stand out. From consultation to final installation, we take care of it all—so you can make a bold and lasting impression.

[binicarsmenorca]

Top Reasons to Rent a Scooter in Menorca for Your Next Trip

Menorca, with its stunning coastline, charming villages, and scenic countryside, is a destination best explored at your own pace. While many travelers opt for car rentals or public transport, one of the best ways to experience the island is on two wheels. Choosing to rent a scooter in Menorca allows for greater flexibility, easy navigation, and a more immersive travel experience.

If you are planning your next trip to Menorca, here are the top reasons why renting a scooter is the perfect way to explore the island.

1. Enjoy Unmatched Freedom and Flexibility

One of the biggest advantages of renting a scooter is the ability to move around without being restricted by public transport schedules or costly taxi rides. With a scooter, you can:

Visit multiple locations in a single day without worrying about delays.

Stop whenever you like to take in breathtaking views or explore hidden spots.

Avoid waiting in long lines for buses or struggling to find taxis in tourist-heavy areas.

By choosing a scooter Menorca rental, you can create your own itinerary and experience the island in a way that suits your travel style.

2. Easily Navigate Through Traffic and Narrow Roads

Menorca is known for its narrow streets, especially in villages like Binibeca and Fornells. Many roads leading to beaches and scenic spots are small and can be difficult to access by car. Scooters provide a major advantage by allowing you to:

Maneuver easily through tight spaces.

Skip the traffic in busy areas during peak tourist seasons.

Access remote locations where larger vehicles struggle to go.

This makes a scooter the ideal mode of transport for travelers who want a smooth and hassle-free experience.

3. Save Money on Transportation Costs

Compared to renting a car or relying on taxis, scooters are a more budget-friendly way to explore Menorca. The cost savings come from:

Lower rental fees compared to car hire.

Reduced fuel costs, as scooters consume less fuel than cars.

No need to pay for expensive parking, since scooters can be parked in smaller spaces or designated areas.

If you are looking for a cost-effective way to travel, opting to rent a scooter in Menorca is a smart financial choice.

4. Access Stunning Beaches with Ease

Many of Menorca’s most beautiful beaches are located in remote areas with limited access to public transportation. Some require a long walk from the nearest parking area, which can be inconvenient in hot weather. Renting a scooter allows you to:

Get closer to hidden beaches without the need for long walks.

Reach famous beaches like Cala Macarella, Cala Mitjana, and Cala Pregonda quickly.

Avoid the frustration of crowded parking lots at popular tourist spots.

With a scooter Menorca rental, you can easily explore Menorca’s coastline and discover its most stunning seaside locations.

5. Park Anywhere Without Hassle

One of the biggest challenges for travelers in Menorca is finding parking, especially in popular tourist areas. Many car parks fill up quickly, leaving drivers searching for a spot. With a scooter, parking is much easier because:

Scooters can fit into small spaces that cars cannot.

Designated scooter parking areas are available near major attractions.

You avoid the stress of circling around for a parking spot during peak hours.

By renting a scooter, you can spend more time enjoying Menorca’s sights rather than worrying about where to park.

6. Eco-Friendly Way to Explore the Island

For travelers who are conscious about their environmental impact, scooters are a greener alternative to cars. Renting a scooter helps to:

Reduce carbon emissions compared to fuel-heavy vehicles.

Minimize congestion on the island’s roads.

Offer a sustainable way to travel while enjoying the natural beauty of Menorca.

If you want an eco-friendly way to explore Menorca while reducing your travel footprint, a scooter is an excellent choice.

7. Experience the Island Like a Local

Many locals in Menorca rely on scooters for daily transportation, as they are practical and efficient for navigating the island’s roads. By renting a scooter, you can:

Blend in with the locals and experience Menorca in an authentic way.

Travel at a relaxed pace, enjoying the island’s landscapes.

Discover charming local markets, cafes, and villages off the beaten path.

A scooter rental allows you to embrace the true spirit of Menorca and explore beyond the usual tourist spots.

8. Feel the Adventure and Thrill of Riding

For travelers who enjoy a sense of adventure, riding a scooter provides a more exciting way to explore. The feeling of riding through open roads, with the warm Mediterranean breeze and stunning scenery around you, enhances the overall travel experience.

Whether you are cruising along coastal roads or exploring winding countryside paths, renting a scooter adds an element of fun and freedom to your trip.

9. Simple and Easy Rental Process

Renting a scooter in Menorca is a straightforward process, with rental agencies available at major locations such as:

Mahon Airport.

Tourist hubs like Ciutadella and Calan Porter.

Hotels and resorts that offer direct rental services.

Most rental companies require:

A valid driving license (International Driving Permit may be required for non-EU travelers).

A small deposit or credit card guarantee.

Basic rental paperwork, which can be completed in a few minutes.

Once booked, you can pick up your scooter and start exploring right away.

10. Safe and Well-Maintained Roads

Menorca has well-paved roads with clear signage, making it a safe place for scooter travel. To ensure a safe and enjoyable ride:

Always wear a helmet, as it is legally required.

Follow local speed limits and traffic laws.

Ride cautiously on winding or uneven roads, especially in coastal areas.

Avoid riding at night in areas with limited street lighting.

By taking these precautions, renting a scooter remains a safe and enjoyable way to explore Menorca.

Conclusion

Choosing to rent a scooter in Menorca is one of the best ways to experience the island. From easy navigation and budget-friendly travel to unrestricted access to hidden beaches, a scooter offers unmatched advantages for visitors. Whether you are a solo traveler or exploring with a partner, a scooter Menorca rental provides the perfect combination of convenience, flexibility, and adventure.

For your next trip to Menorca, consider renting a scooter and discover the island in the most exciting and practical way.

[islehouse]

Balanced And Vibrant

Spending time in nature is essential for relaxation and well-being, and Isle House offers the perfect blend of outdoor access and modern living. Nestled in Treasure Island, Isle House provides studio, one-, two-, and three-bedroom homes with abundant parks and green spaces nearby. Residents can enjoy miles of biking and running trails, which are ideal for active lifestyles. Clipper Cove Beach, with its open water swim lanes, offers a refreshing escape right at your doorstep. Commuters will appreciate the ferry service, which is just minutes from downtown San Francisco and offers easy bridge access to the East Bay. For those seeking studio apartments in Treasure Island, Isle House combines nature's tranquility with urban convenience, creating a balanced and vibrant living experience.

The Transportation System in San Francisco, California

San Francisco has a well-developed transportation system that makes it easy to get around the city. One of its most famous forms of transportation is the cable car, which is both a tourist attraction and a way for locals to travel. The city also has buses, light rail, and streetcars operated by Muni, the public transit system. For longer trips, BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) connects San Francisco to nearby cities like Oakland and Berkeley. People can also use ferries to travel across the bay. Many residents choose to bike or walk, thanks to the city’s bike-friendly roads and sidewalks. Despite some traffic and hills, San Francisco's variety of transportation options makes it convenient for people to move around the city.

PIER 39 in San Francisco, CA

Pier 39 in San Francisco, California, is a lively shopping and entertainment destination located along the waterfront. It is famous for its stunning views of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island. You can explore a variety of shops, restaurants, and attractions, making it a fun place for families and tourists. One of the highlights of Pier 39 is the sea lions that lounge on the docks, drawing crowds of spectators. There are also street performers, an aquarium, and a carousel to enjoy. Pier 39 often hosts events and festivals, adding to its vibrant atmosphere. With its mix of sights, sounds, and activities, Pier 39 is a must-visit spot for anyone exploring San Francisco.

X, Formerly Twitter, to Shutter Its San Francisco Headquarters on Sept. 13

Many businesses are moving their headquarters to Texas for several reasons. One main reason is that Texas often has lower taxes and a lower cost of living compared to places like California. This can help companies save money and invest more in their employees and products. Additionally, Texas has a friendly business environment with fewer regulations, making it easier to operate. Cities like Austin and Dallas offer a vibrant culture and strong job markets, attracting talent from all over. For example, X, formerly known as Twitter, decided to close its San Francisco headquarters and move to Texas, following this trend. By relocating, businesses hope to create a more efficient and profitable future while providing new opportunities for their workers.

Link to map

PIER 39 The Embarcadero, San Francisco, CA 94133, United States Head west toward Pier 39/Pier 39 Concourse 54 sec (289 ft) Continue on The Embarcadero N. Take I-80 E to Macalla Rd. Take exit 4B from I-80 E 17 min (4.7 mi) Follow Macalla Rd to Treasure Island Rd 2 min (0.6 mi) Continue on Treasure Island Rd to Avenue B/Bruton St 2 min (0.5 mi) Continue on Avenue B/Bruton St. Drive to 3rd St 56 sec (0.1 mi) Isle House Apartments 39 Bruton St, San Francisco, CA 94130, United States

[faiz-khans-blogs]

Is it efficient to ride an electric scooter in traffic?

Well, sharp at 7 pm on a weekday or a weekend, do you know the feeling of opening

your maps and seeing the entire route to your destination is congested? When a 7 km

route takes 40-45 minutes? Yes, you got the feeling right. With the bustling streets of

In Indian metro cities, where every second counts and traffic congestion is a daily struggle,

finding an efficient mode of transportation is the need of the hour, we mean even the

need of the rush hour.

Talking about efficiency and riding experience in traffic from an electric scooter&#39;s point of

view, we highly suggest going for the BG C12i electric scooter for your day-to-day

needs. May it be errands or work commutes, you will beat the traffic like a pro with the

BG C12i electric scooter.

Here are a few reasons why the BG C12i e-scooter is an efficient electric scooter when

there’s traffic.

1. Extraordinary range for the extra-packed roads.

Someone said that it’s true that your weekend plans are decided by the traffic you find

on your way. Sometimes, being stuck in traffic becomes your weekend plan. Now

imagine, you running out of charge while on your e-scooter in traffic. We won’t let this

happen to you. Here’s why we bring to you the 135 km ARAI certified range of the BG

C12i electric scooter.

One of the standout features of the BG C12i is its impressive range of up to 135 km

ARAI, ensuring that commuters can navigate through the city without the anxiety of

running out of battery midway. Picture this: a daily commuter cruising through the maze

of vehicles, knowing they have extra range to reach their destination and back without

the need for extra recharges.

2. Can’t handle traffic? You can easily handle the BG C12i though.

Let&#39;s be honest. When there’s a huge traffic jam, bikes create their own lane on the left

side of the road to pass through the side of the cars safely and without breaking any

traffic rules. But, there are times where in narrow lanes filled with cars on either side,

there might be hurdles like lower space to pass through and so on. Here comes the

FOC handle control of the BG C12i electric scooter.

Moreover, the BG C12i boasts easy handling, making it a breeze to maneuver through

tight spaces and weave through traffic jams. Imagine effortlessly gliding past stagnant

lines of cars, thanks to the scooter&#39;s nimble and agile design. This agility not only saves

time but also reduces the stress associated with navigating congested roads.

3. Peak hours? Comfort should also be at its peak.

“I should have taken some other road. My back has started to hurt now.”- Every mildly

annoyed person who is stuck in traffic for hours on their two-wheeler in India.

But, with the BG C12i’s comfort, this is not at all the case.

Comfort is another key aspect that sets the BG C12i apart. With its ergonomic design

and 774 mm long plush seating, riders can enjoy a smooth and comfortable journey

even amidst the chaos of city traffic. From dodging potholes to enduring long

commutes, the scooter provides a comfortable ride, ensuring that commuters arrive at

their destination feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Consider a scenario where a

commuter effortlessly zips through the bustling streets of Mumbai, weaving past

bumper-to-bumper traffic with ease, all the while enjoying the comfort and stability

offered by the BG C12i.

In conclusion, riding an electric scooter like the BG C12i in city traffic is not just efficient

but also a game-changer for commuters. With its impressive range, easy handling, and

superior comfort, it&#39;s a perfect companion for navigating the urban jungle. Say goodbye

to the stress and hassle of traditional commuting and embrace the future of

transportation with the BG C12i electric scooter.

[mayra-quijotescx]

my family came over here to get away from mafia bullshit but the whole fucking country is mafia bullshit. our cities give all our fucking money to the most violent and worthless pieces of shit our society can create instead of providing shelter and healthcare, and then those pieces of shit with their fucking badges and fleet vehicles and military surplus get to hunt for sport all the people who are houseless and without healthcare.

(you don't want to read this. i didn't want to see it. if you do want to read, i needed to get it out of me so here it is. big tw police violence)

we just saw four fucking guys handcuff and manhandle and strap restraints around the legs and torso of a man whose only crimes as far as we can tell were being Black, poor, and suffering from heatstroke. They shoved him down onto the hood of a hot-ass black cop car in blistering daylight, the feels like temperature was 100F, then they wrangled him onto the ground in such a way that his cuffed-behind-back hands were pressed down against the scalding pavement, rush hour traffic was crawling by so the smog was thick, they at one point put him on his back and he had to arch up like a fucking banana to not have his face touch scalding asphalt, and he begged for water while the gang in blue rotated him in and out of the backseat of a different ugly-ass cop car while a couple of EMTs stood there being completely fucking negligent and worthless. This wasn't enough, apparently, so two more overpaid overgrown ringworms showed up in a third car to 'help.'

the man just needed some goddamn water and to be out of the fucking blazing heat.

And all we could do was stand there across one half of the street and fucking watch four thugs manhandle someone helpless in the throes of a medical emergency and be ready to film if their violence exited the realm of plausible deniability and approached lethality before they moved him to a second location. All we can do is fucking bear witness and try for a posthumous consequence that will just get dodged anyway because cops have their nasty-ass boots on the neck of our entire country. I wish hell was somewhere else so all those motherfuckers both active and complicit could burn in it, instead of here where we all have to live. Let hot concrete eat away at their skin for a while, see how they like it, and no water for them except when God leans down to spit in their faces. maybe i'd go there too and roast for a bit myself for not being able to do shit.

oh and then I got to be wound up the whole way home too bc when we got out of the fucking store that was the only reason we even went outside today, there was another cop car parked on the sidewalk in front of the store entrance nearer where it happened, and when we got to the road there was one sitting with its lights on in front of a fast food place across the street, and then as we were walking home one sped past us way above speed limit blinking its siren on and off. So their bloodlust was not in fact sated and they had to do a rush-hour speed trap on a main thoroughfare. fucking worthless parasite mafia thugs. the terminal-case intestinal worms of our society, bastards of the lowest and slimiest order. death is too good for every last one of them, but I wish it on them nonetheless, and when it finds them I hope it burns low and slow like a fucking stew.

[anshikasingh7]

5 Advantages of Choosing a Bike Rental in Kharadi Over a Car

Ever wondered about the best way to explore Pune while visiting its lively locales? The streets teem with life, offering a blend of modernity and tradition that requests to be explored. But have you considered the perks of cruising through these bustling areas on a bike instead of relying on a car? Picture this: the freedom to wind through streets, explore hidden spots, and truly absorb the essence of these places at your own pace.

Let's uncover the five compelling reasons why opting for a bike on rent in Kharadi or Shivaji Nagar, Pune, might be the perfect travel companion for your adventure.

Advantages of Choosing a Bike Rental Over a Car

Flexibility And Freedom

Riding a bike through the bustling streets of Kharadi or Shivaji Nagar offers unmatched agility and flexibility. Unlike cars, bikes effortlessly weave through traffic, allowing you to explore narrow lanes, access hidden gems, and reach destinations quickly.

Parking Perks

Securing parking for a car can be tricky. Bike rentals offer a stress-free alternative. Their smaller size makes parking effortless, granting access to convenient spots nearer to your destinations.

Cost-Effectiveness

Choosing a bike on rent in Shivaji Nagar or Kharadi is not just a travel choice; it is a budget-friendly one too. Bikes generally have lower rental fees, reduced fuel expenses, and minimal maintenance costs compared to cars, saving you a considerable sum during your exploration.

Immersive Experience

Discover the vibrancy of these locales by opting for a bike on rent in Shivaji Nagar. This open-air experience provides an immersive feel, enabling you to absorb the sights, sounds, and local culture more intimately compared to travelling in a car.

Eco-Friendly Travel

If you are an eco-conscious traveller, bikes offer a sustainable option. By choosing a bike on rent in Kharadi or Shivaji Nagar, you can easily minimise your carbon footprint, emitting fewer pollutants than cars, promoting a greener, cleaner environment.

The Unmatched Freedom of Two Wheels

Bike rentals in Kharadi or Shivaji Nagar provide unmatched freedom and adaptability. They enable a self-paced city exploration, facilitating convenient pauses, quick deviations, and spontaneous escapades that are often challenging with a car.

Planning to discover Kharadi's remarkable IT hubs or Shivaji Nagar's diverse culture? Opting for a rented bike in Shivaji Nagar or Kharadi ensures a smooth and memorable adventure. Effortlessly glide through busy streets, soak in the local atmosphere, and discover hidden gems while savouring the bike's convenience and agility.

Embark on an Unforgettable Journey

Choosing between a bike rental and a car while exploring Kharadi or Shivaji Nagar? The answer's clear. Bikes offer flexibility, affordability, immersive experiences, and eco-friendliness, making them perfect for travellers seeking the soul of these vibrant cities. Ready for an adventure on two wheels through these bustling locales?

Make your visit to Kharadi or Shivaji Nagar truly unforgettable by renting a bike. Capture the essence of these lively spots and create lasting memories. Opt for Pune's top-notch rental service, ensuring the best vehicles to elevate your experience in these dynamic areas.

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Hi!! Can you do a one shot of kyojuro ending up in our world and meets reader and they become friends and fall in love?

Of course! Thanks for requesting!!! I had a lot of ideas for this one! Thank you!!!!

Not exactly from around here

Kyojuro smiled as a scroll of parchment was dropped in his hand. Untying and unrolling the paper he looked at the newest target. Looking at the papers he seen a map on the second.

Confused he walked into town, looking around he spotted a shop owner setting up his sweets stand.

"Hello! Hi!" Rengoku called with a smile.

The middle age man smiled turning away from the Hawthorn he was skewing.

"Hey there! The sugars still heating up! But Can I interest you in my special sweet buns! There not typical!"

Rengoku smiled, "I was wondering if you could help me find this place."

The man looked over the stand looking at the map, "hmm...thats the old abonded train station, the tracks are covered in water." The man infromed, "If you want to go there, go down the back alley just down the street, you'll hit a dead end all the way down and take the stairs down, you'll see a fruit stand and turn left going down some more stairs."

"Thank you." Rengoku spoke putting the papers away, then looking at the stand, "how long is that sugar going to take?"

"Hmm? Not to longer more." The man spoke.

"Can I buy..."

Twenty mintues later Rengoku was walking down the second set of stairs with a bag of sweets in his hand and a stick of tanghulu-ed hawthorne in his hand, but before he could enjoy his sweet he past by a child playing by himself- so he was happy to share the Tanghulu with the small boy.

By the time he had made it to the run down station the sun was setting, the water filled the tracks like he was informed and the sitting area once well done was now over run with folliage, vines creating a curtain.

Walking down the colostone path he made it to a small ticket booth, swipping the vines away he seen no one in the ticket booth. Walking away from the ticket booth to look around a bit more he spotted a random mushroom in the middle of the walk way. Curious enough he went over to it- as it suddenly picked itself up and ran off.

Confused Rengoku followed the mushroom as it ran behind the sitting area and back around the far corner. Rengoku followed as he turned the corner. A shadow now in the ticket booth, and the small mushroom running over.

Rengoku followed moving the foliage again seeing the silhouette of what seemed to be a ticket master- the only solid thing was the brooch on the mans hat.

It was silent as the man held up a set of tickets.

"A ticket slip?" Rengoku asked, but got no reply, only a pointed finger at his haori.

Figuring it was the scroll hidden inside he took out the roll and set it on the wood.

The scroll was taken and ripped as it burnt to ashes and in replace Rengoku was given the ticket slip.

Taking it he looked at the slip- he had never heard of any of the stops passed the first three.

Walking over to the now clean sitting area he took a seat, a black cat joining his side as it waited with cat sized bag around its body, some other creatures such as more mushroom people, and flower fairies came to take a look at Rengoku- a human- none the less a demon slayer.

He looked down at the small group and smiled sending them into shock and hiding. He smiled brighter as they came out of hiding slowly- unsure if they'd be scooped up or slashed, but seeing his bright smile they took a seat, bathing in his sun like smile.

Hearing the train coming in he stood up, walking over towards the tracks to realize the water was still present, but filled with small fish and- what he assumed was an eel that pasted by. The colors in the water scattered as the train came in- coming to a slow stop as the doors slid open.

The cat took lead, hoping in as it held its ticket slip in its mouth. Rengoku followed after, still uncertain of what was really happening- but you could say curiosity killed the cat.

Taking a seat on the bench he looked out the window infront of him. Soon a ticket master- no more than the age of tweleve came floating by- two eyes following him as he held out a gloved white hand. Looking at the ticket he handed them to the boy, who took them and shreaded them in his hand processed shredder and moved on. On the first stop- people filed in, a veiled woman sitting next to him with a child in a wooven fruit basket- the child- of course wasn't human, and a male in a kitsune mask infront of him, smoking out of a Kiseru, and beside him sat the cat that minded it own bussniess.

It wasnt till the fourth stop he was left alone- the only residing was the cat. Rengoku looked over and waved smally with a bright smile but the cat never did respond.

Not so long after the same floating boy came back over- pointing to the door as the train came to a stop.

The cat got up as well as Rengoku went over the doors opening as they both walked out. Rengoku watched as the black cat made it own way leaving Rengoku alone in silence. Looking around he found some stairs, traveling up them he came to a back alley, he almost walked into busy foot-traffic, luckily stopping himself in time as he watched people pass by, werid items in there hands, dressed weirdly, some dressed in what seemed to be a uniform.

"You really are a slow one aren't you."

Rengoku looked up seeing the black cat sitting on an on-ing.

"Oh. So you do speak." Rengoku smiled. "I am-"

"Rengoku Koyojuro. I know who you are." The cat spoke, "why are you here?"

"I was sent on an assignment you see!" Kyojuro spoke with a bright smile, "that ticketmaster took my map. But I still have the letter- hey where are we?"

"Modern time- futuristic for you." The cat spoke, "Just do your job and leave. Don't cause a ruckus."

The cat left as Rengoku looked out into the crowd, with a bright smile on his face, and a hop in his stepped out into the crowd, just to be carried away by the crashing wave of people. When he finally got out of the crowd he looked around looking at the letter.

'Find Y/n'

Wss the first thing that stood out to him, he went to the closest person in veiw. A young girl in a school uniform with her friends.

"Excuse me!" Rengoku smiled happily.

The girls looked back at him- immediately flushed at his apperance, "Hi! I was wondering if you could help me find a Y/n?"

"Y-Y-Y/n? Y/n? W-w-what?" One girl spoke a flushing mess as she looked at the young man.

"Hmm..." Rengoku thought looking down at the paper.

"Ah! A Y/n L/n! Or a L/n Y/n! Which ever way sounds familiar would really help!" Rengoku smiled.

"L/n?"

"Ah as in L/n-Sensei!" One girl pipped up.

"The pretty teacher?" Another girl asked.

"Pretty teacher?" Rengoku asked.

One nodded, "She works at the highschool. Shes Mirus home room! Isnt that right Miru-san?!"

"H-huh! Oh...yeah!" She flustered.

"She should still be at the school. She said she had a meeting."

"Where can I find this highschool?"

"Its down that way."

Thanking the young women he left to find this highschool.

Walking along the streets he seen cars and bikes past by- confusing him- but interesting him none the less. Asking for directions once more he had made it to the school, walking through the front gate he stopped hearing windows being opened abruptly.

A young woman stood there, her hair down and relaxed as the breeze blew through it softly. The breeze now dismissed- showed her face, Kyojuro awe strucken by her appearance, she seemed to be the only simple thing in this hetic world he had traveled too- her bright colorful eyes made her stick out- show casing her warm heart and soul as she smiled.

From the corner of her eye she spotted the bright colors of the sun. Turning her head down she looked at the male looking up at her- there bright eyes locking with one another.

It was silent, the breeze coming and going as they stayed awe strucken by one another.

"Can I help you with something sir?"

There it was. Her voice, a love striken arrow piercing Rengoku's heart.

"My name is Rengoku Kyojuro."

His voice sent a warm fuzz to her cheeks.

"I am L/n Y/n."

This was her.

"I. I've heard of you." Rengoku called back, "I was wondering. If you'd like to become friends!"

"A pretty bold move for friendship Mr.Kyojuro!"

Rengoku smiled, "I suppose it is Ms.L/n!"

"we can grab some yakisoba, maybe a beer? Or some sake?"

Rengoku nodded as Y/n smiled, "Give me time to grab my things."

Rengoku patiently waited as the woman soon came down the steps and out the school.

"Its nice to meet you as a whole rather than just your upper half." Rengoku smiled as Y/n chuckled softly.

"So. How about that food?"

That was the start of it, there meeting- they had sat and ate talking along the way, laughing and joking- until Kyojuro brought his reasoning for being where they were.

"A demon train?" Y/n asked.

"It may be hard to believe-"

"It really isn't!" Y/n said, "This is the modern world after all- just if your a supposed demon slayer why didnt you just kill the thing instead of boarding it?"

"I'm still asking myself that question!" He laughed rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

Y/n ate some rice as he contuied to talk,

He may be hot but kinda childish- or is it dense...

"So whats the plan then? How are you getting back?" Y/n asked.

"Oh." Rengoku spoke.

Well atleast he has a plan

"You see. I don't exactly know!" He finished.

Of course he doesnt have a plan

"Well how about staying at my place until then?" Y/n asked, "I teach mythology and history.So you'll be my living reference in return"

"That sounds great!"

"Well first we should dress you modernly. Im sure the police will arrest you for walking around with a sword." Y/n informed.

"Oh."

Rengoku listened as Y/n informed him on the modern world the two soon returning to her place, he was most interested in the colorized pictures on the wall as she started informing him on where things were.

"Rengoku?"

"Hmm?"

She turned around to see him with a frame in his hand, but he soon set it down.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing at all. I've never seen so many. Who paints them all?" He asked curiously.

"There taken with a camera that links to my printer." Y/n informed.

"Can we take one? You know before we figure out a way for me to get back!" Rengoku asked.

"Yeah I don't see why not." Y/n smiled.

Rengoku smiled as Y/n continued the house tour. The next few days Y/n would help Rengoku get accustomed to modern life, and he'd teach her about his time- simple things she wanted to know really. He accompanied her to school where he sat in the corner in the from of the class- or in the back depending on the time. Most of the highschool girls fauned over him- and maybe even some of the boys.

It was safe to say- Y/n and Rengoku had become friends. Yet that didn't stop Rengoku from wanting to return home. A week into his visit he was still there, and he was missing home none the less.

Y/n frowned seeing Rengoku doodling little images of his old friends and world.

"What do you want for dinner today Rengoku?" Y/n asked.

"I picked yesterday! You can pick today!" He spoke smiling.

"How about pozole?" Y/n asked.

"Is that new?" He asked.

"No." Y/n responed, "it's a hispanic dish. I figured while your hear. Maybe you could try some other cultural food! Fish isnt the only thing out there you know!"

Rengoku smiled softly, "that sounds great then."

Y/n smiled, "how about helping me?"

Rengoku nodded as the two got to work. He had found himself attached- warm hearted next to her. He knew she was going out of her way to not only help him, but try and feel better.

They cooked and cooked, the two laughing along the way as they sat down with there bowls to eat.

Rengoku took a spoonful happily, "It's diffrent. I like it!"

Y/n smiled, "Im glad you like it so much. Now you know how to make it so you can make it whenever!"

He nodded as they contuied to eat, "I was thinking."

Rengoku looked up from his bowl, "maybe we could take the camera out? Go take some pictures together?"

Rengoku nodded with a smile, "I'd enjoy that!"

"Then it settled! We can go out after we eat!"

The dinner was filled with laughter and jokes, dishwashing contained a bubble fight. Ending in the two of them sitting against the counter taking a break. Just for them to get up again and get ready to head out, Y/n with a camera in her hands.

The evening was warm, and happy- a smile not leaving any of there faces. It was mostly goofy pictures of the two of them doing things- just one- as the other one was usually taking the picture.

Y/n intruppted a man for a quick question as he happily agreed, Y/n ran over to Rengoku pulling on the haori he had overlaping his buttonup.

"He's gonna take a picture of us." Y/n said pointing to the man who held the camera.

Rengoku nodded in understanding as the two stood ready bright smiles on there faces as they stood infront of some neosigns.

"There we go!"

"Thanks alot!"

"It was no problem!"

Y/n smiled looking at the photo.

"One more place?" She asked.

Rengoku agreed as she pulled him along, the route soon told him where they were going.

"I figured." Y/n spoke walking down the stairs, "the trainstation of which you magically appeared would be a nice photo right?"

Rengoku nodded, "It would be nice."

Y/n smiled as she found a rock to perch the camera on, "it'll be on a timer so I'll rush over and we can take the picture!"

Rengoku watched as she quickly ran over the two smiling as she held his arm, there fingers interlaced with each others. The photo snapped and Y/n smiled rushing over to get it. Making there way home Rengoku looked at her free hand, hanging by her side as she held the camera in one hand.

Feeling his pinky being taken he looked back down and noticed Y/n wrapped her pinky around his, looking back up at her she walked normally- following in suit he wrapped his pinky around hers.

"Hey Rengoku..."

"Hmm?"

She was silent for a mintue, "nevermind..."

Rengoku frowned as they got home, taking there shoes off, Y/n took her coat off and Rengoku hung his haori up besides it.

"I...Im gonna go print these pictures-"

"Wait a mintue." Rengoku said grabbing her hand, "What. What were you going to say? Before the nevermind. It must've been important."

"No. Nothing." Y/n spoke walking away and to her desk, "We should get these printed."

The mood suddenly changed, it was lighthearted once more as they figured out what pictures to print. Rengoku watched her smile and laugh as he stood over the chair using the back as a leaning support.

"Hey! Thats a good one!" Rengoku pointed out at the picture of Y/n feeding the deer they seen passing a tea garden.

Y/n looked at him, his face now level with hers as he looked at the computer with a smile. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek he flustered immediately.

They looked at each other, Y/n flushing immediately.

"S-sorry." She apologized.

"You missed." Rengoku told her.

"I-I missed?" Y/n asked as Rengoku pecked her lips softly.

"See I didn't miss." He smiled brightly, "You try again-"

Rengoku was silenced as Y/n kissed him again, this time, the kiss lasted longer than a peck.

Standing up her hands ran through his hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He only responded with his hands on her hips, pushing into the kiss more she stumbled back a bit and bumped into her desk.

Pulling away Rengoku smiled softly as did she, "sorry." He apologized with a light laugh.

She chuckled lightly, her head resting against his, "you...kiss good."

Rengoku flushed softly as Y/n rubbed the back of her head.

"I uh. The printers in my room." She spoke softly rushing off flushed as he followed with a smile.

She looked at the pictures with a smile, as he stood in her doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Hey. Rengoku here are-"

She froze as he was suddenly next to her, a smile as he observed her.

"W-what is it?"

He sighed,tossing his Haori on her bed as he rolled up his sleeves. Gulping unknowing of what was to happen she was suddenly picked up.

"If I want to keep that smile on your face! I suppose I must tickle you!"

"Wait! Rengoku!-"

She was tossed on the bed as he climbed over her. Almost immediately tickling her she cried out in laughter, finishing off his tickling with a kiss to her lips he laid on his side, waiting for her to calm down.

"Want another tickle?"

"No! No. Im okay." She chuckled as he smiled.

Sighing she finally calmed down, the two laying on the bed together in peace, she yawned as he covered them with the white, flamed desgined haori.

"Im glad I found you." Rengoku spoke softly kissing her head as she smiled.

"I love you Ren." She smiled hugging him.

"I love you too N/n."

The two fell asleep in each others embrace, the suns rays of the next day only waking the two up.

Rengoky yawned as he sat up, back pain immense as he covered his eyes from the sun- which was odd as he remembered you only opening your curtains a bit.

"Aniki?"

He looked behind him seeing Tanjiro.

"Ah! Thank god we found you!" Tanjiro sighed in relief.

Tanjiro?

Why was Tanjiro here?

Wait.

Rengoku looked around quickly, "No. No. No. No no. No. No! No!" He cried getting up to his feet.

He had returned to the trainstation that started his journey.

"Y/n!" He called out, maybe you had been brought back with him, "Y/n!"

Tanjiro frowned at Rengoku's sudden burst.

"Hey. Hey! Calm down. Aniki what's wrong? What happened?" Tanjiro attempted to calm, "where did these chlothes come from?"

"No! She was here! She was with me! I-" Rengoku jumbled together.

"Aniki. Please. Take a deep breathe." Tanjiro spoke holding Rengoku's arms, "maybe that will jog your memory?"

Rengoku turned arouned to see his sword on the floor and under it was paper. Rushing over he looked at the papers- photos you had printed and taken for him. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as Tanjiro comforted him.

[harryimaginedstories]

on your side

genre: au (while I don’t like the term ‘au-fic’ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.

about 5k words

it’s entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times. 

read more here: my stories

photo: taken from instagram, previously taken by somebody from the movie AWC, which also inspired me (kinda) to even write this.

They started arguing pretty much the second the car door fell shut behind them and even ten traffic lights, countless of turns and getting honked at twice, didn’t stop their heated exchange of words. Harry’s hands held on to the seat tightly, an attempt not to touch her thigh like he normally would, while hers curled around the steering wheel until the white of her knuckles showed. It wasn’t uncommon for them to fight. They had never been one of those couples who didn’t call each other out on their bullshit or who tried hide anger when there was reason to feel it. However, this was the first time that they weren’t on their way home, where their argument could be settled in private. Instead, Harry and Y/N, both infuriated with each other, were on their way to a party. With one generous rotation of the wheel, Y/N parked Harry’s black car in the last free niche on the street of the frat house. The vehicle gave an unpleasant sound and Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. Before he got the chance to complain, Y/N swung open the door, stepped out and threw it shut hard enough to know it would set him off. 

“Jesus fuck!” Harry shouted, opening the passenger door and stepping out, too. 

She waited long enough to press ‘lock’ on the keys once he was out, then she walked away. With quick strides he caught up with her, and had he not been as angry as could be he would have probably felt hurt at her for not waiting up like she would have any other day.  Walking next to her he turned to look at her profile, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused. 

“Would you mind not taking your crazy out on my fucking car?”

“Oh, so you do care about that then. Good to know,” she snapped back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N halted and so did he. They were standing on the pavement, one house away from where there could already be heard the dull sound of music blaring and a good meter of distance between them.  Any other night they would be standing there, too. Only not to deliver a few more blows before pretending to be alright while their friends were around. On any other night, Harry would have taken advantage of the warm weather, by letting his hands roam across Y/N’s bare arms. She would have given him a kiss or two and made him a laugh at least as much. He would have reminded her for the fifth time (at least) that she looked beautiful. There wouldn’t be any distance between them, let alone one entire meter.

“There is one thing I’ve been hearing clearly through all of the bullshit you’ve said today,” Y/N hissed, her lips barely moving and her hands curling into tight fists by her side, “which is that you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“Oh my god.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his head falling back before snapping forward quickly, “You’re being such a lunatic!”

Wind picked up some of her hair and pushed the loose strands into her eyes, breaking the angry stare she’d held with him and for a moment, Harry could have sworn she appeared to be younger. Then she brushed the hair off with shaky hands and back she was, angry and exhausted. 

“You’re a dick!” Y/N squealed, 

“Well, clearly we could go on,” he snapped and rolled his eyes, “but our fucking friends are waiting for us so do you think you can manage to avoid me for the next few hours so we can at least settle this at home?” 

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her cleavage which he had tried not to stare ever since she’d put on the blue dress. That damn dress. Focusing on it now it only irked him further. She knew how much he loved it when she wore this particular piece of clothing. It had spent the night on the floor of his bedroom or over the back of a chair often enough. He was certain she’d put it on specifically to spite him. 

“Fine, let’s go. But since you’re unhappy with my parking,” Y/N stepped forward and reached up, pressing the hard metal of Harry’s car keys into his chest, “you get to be the designated driver tonight.” 

Her fist lingered on the fabric of his black T-shirt. Feeling her touch him momentarily paused his thoughts. All anger was forgotten, as if the wind had picked it up, too, and carried it far away. Harry whimpered and her lips parted, their eyes connecting without any trace of hurt in them. Then his hand found hers and she dropped the set of keys into his palm, snapping them both out of their brief moment of peace. 

“I don’t want to see you right now,” Y/N stuttered, blinking rapidly until her eyes turned darker again.

“Don’t come look for me later when you’re drunk and feeling sorry,” Harry replied, before he stepped around her and walked towards the frat building.

Y/N lost sight of him the second he stepped inside. Despite still feeling angry with him, she couldn’t stop herself from briefly wishing he wouldn’t have left her alone. She didn’t like being left alone at a party. Neither did he, for the matter, but she refused to feel guilty for sending him away. Y/N drew a shaky breath and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the smell of alcohol, smoke and pot. A big banner had been hung from one side of the hall to the other, wishing everybody a cheerful start to the new semester. Underneath mingled numerous students, all of which held drinks in their hands. Already Y/N recognized a few of them from some of her classes, she didn’t feel like talking to them however. To her luck she spotted a few friends of her in the first room she entered and was quickly greeted with hugs and kisses to her cheek. 

Dena, a girl Y/N had grown close with through sharing an equal distain for their econ teacher, pressed a drink into her hand and smiled. “You look like you need at least two of these.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t cheer in delight upon seeing us like you should have so,” said Clara, another friend Y/N had made whilst talking badly about her teacher.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

Dena nudged her. “Also, your boyfriend stormed past us earlier so we expected something was up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clara asked.

Y/N shook her head and took a long sip from her drink. It tasted of a mixture of beer and vodka, which on any other day she would have refused to drink. “I really don’t.”

“Great. Then let’s just cheer to us.”

The two girls raised their own cups and waited expectantly for Y/N to do the same. Dena grinned at her and cleared her throat. 

“To us, the coming semester, which we will fucking ace. And-” she paused, looking at Y/N, “to knowing when to kick your boyfriend’s ass. Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

Harry stood by the unlit fire pit in the lounge area, where the chairs had been pushed aside to create a dance floor. A scowl was deeply etched onto his face and he had yet to smile genuinely. He blamed the alcohol he wasn’t allowed to consume for how poorly he was feeling, but he knew even if he had drowned his veins in liquor, it wouldn’t be until he’d feel her touch him that he would be in a better mood. He stood back watching with a few of his mates, who were all except one, very drunk, as some freshmen clumsily turned the dinner table into a bear pong station. Matt, the only sober one left, had tried to get him to talk about why his mood was so sour three times already, receiving no answer each time. Harry rolled his eyes upon feeling him nudge his shoulder again.

“Where’s your girl?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know.”

He’d been cursing her short height since turning around and looking for her in the crowded hallway thirty minutes ago. She’d slipped past him without him noticing, and while he was too proud to go look for her properly, it annoyed him that he wasn’t able to casually spot her whenever he scanned one of the many rooms that had been turned into a club. He especially didn’t like it since he knew that she was drinking. Blindly he felt for his phone in his pocket, ensuring for the tenth time that its volume was turned up. Should she call him, he wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t miss it.

“Didn’t she come with you?” Matt pressed on, either oblivious to Harry’s annoyance or simply indifferent to it.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t wander off on her own, does it?” Harry replied, his voice rough. 

He’d never really liked Matt. Actually, he’d liked him a lot once. They’d even considered becoming roommates in their second year. He’d liked him, up until he’d gotten together with Y/N and noticed the gleam in Matt’s eyes the first time he’d introduced her to him. Their friendship dissolved fast after.

“I’m sure she can. She’s always been good at enjoying parties, hasn’t she?”

Harry didn’t reply. Once more his eyes scanned the room frantically, detecting every single face in hopes of recognizing the eyes to the one he loved.

“Dude!” Eric, a tall and broad looking bloke who’d just become team captain to the football team, stumbled into Harry’s side, knocking him back. 

“Sorry! Shit,” Eric laughed, doubling over, revealing that he was clearly drunker than he should have been, “I’m sorry, mate. Wow, I need to lay off a little.”

“No kidding,” Harry replied, but smiled when Eric slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. The unmistakable smell of alcohol fanned over his face as Eric talked, and his nose scrunched up. 

“You’ve been wearing a look as depressing as Matt’s sex life-”

“Hey, fuck you, Eric!” Matt snapped, unamused.

“-and I intend to fix that. C’mon.”

Harry didn’t fight it as the taller guy dragged him away, out of the lounge and into another room further down the hall. He certainly didn’t mind getting away form Matt. Regardless of them having been friends once, Matt was the last person he wanted to be around when he was having a rough time with Y/N. The smoke was thicker in this room and the music a little quieter. There were less people dancing and more sitting around on the couches and chairs. A few stood by the wall in small groups and some, the ones Eric was walking towards, were standing opposite a dart board. They cheered upon seeing the two guys approach, making more noise than anybody else in the room.

“You’re on my team and you’re gonna help me win, yeah? M’taking advantage of you being sober as a stone. Your aim is probably better than any of theirs.”

Harry laughed and nodded, accepting to be involved. “I’ll try my best.”

The first dart arrow was thrust into his hand by a guy named Kyle who appeared to be on the same team. Half an hour later and Eric was grinning from ear to ear, writing their leading score numbers onto a makeshift writing board that was really just the coffee table. Something the guys living in this house would be happy to find in the morning.  Y/N watched him. Despite being intoxicated, or perhaps because of how intoxicated she was, she noticed every muscle of his back move each time he raised his arm. Her heart fluttered whenever he laughed and she felt a heat grow at the pit of her stomach whenever he leaned his head to the side, revealing the back of his neck to her. And above his neck was his ear, which hid a spot right under his hairline where he liked to be kissed. Y/N’s lips parted at the thought and her toes curled.  He hadn’t noticed her when entering the room. She didn’t blame him though, since she’d successfully hid herself behind Dena and Eric’s big body also worked wonderfully as a shield. Despite anything she’d said before the party, she was immensely relieved to see him. The vodka-beer mixture which she’d learned had been invented by Clara, was disgusting but also got her drunk faster than she had expected. Or intended. Another round of cheers erupted as Harry scored another point for his team. 

“Not fair. You won’t give them as much as a chance to win.” 

A chill rushed down Harry’s back at the sound of the honey sweet female voice behind him, and Y/N, too, froze in place. Slender fingers touched Harry’s arm, caressing the skin despite being less than welcome to. Upon turning around he was met with Silja, who’s face wore a smile equally sweet as her sly voice. Though standing by the opposite wall, Y/N swore she could hear Silja as if she were standing next to her. She would always be able to detect her voice, especially if the words she spoke were directed to Harry. 

Dena followed her friend’s gaze and raised her brows. “Haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she dropped out.”

“Would have been too nice,” Y/N growled. 

She’d never actually talked to Silja herself and she surely didn’t intend to. Before getting together with him, Y/N had been mostly oblivious to who was genuinely interested in him and who she imagining to be. Only with Silja there had never been any doubt. Even before Harry had become hers, she’d felt a bitter taste collect in the middle of her tongue whenever the pretty brunette girl tried to talk to him. Once her claim on him had become justified, she disliked Silja and her upfront behaviour all the more.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to worry about her, right?” Dena said quietly, reading Y/N’s expression, “Harry has rejected her what, three times already? Even before he was with you. He’s not interested in her.”

“I know. I’m not worried about that,” Y/N said quickly, stepping around Dena to get a better look at her boyfriend and the girl that had yet to remove her hand from his arm, “I trust him.”

“Doesn’t make her less of a bitch,” Clara grumbled, also staring at them intently. 

The three girls watched Harry turn to look at Silja. He gave her a tight lip smile before he stepped away to make room for the next player, conveniently shrugging off her hand in process. To their dismay, Silja followed him.

“I haven’t seen you this summer,” she complained in an uncomfortably high voice, that was laced with feigned displeasure, “Where were you hiding?” 

Harry sighed, wishing Y/N would find him already, and rested his back against the wall. The last thing he needed for this party to become worse were the advances of the woman standing before him. “I wasn’t.”

Their summer had been great. They spent it looking for a flat to move into together. One weekend they’d taken the train out to the ocean and spent two days in a pretty bed and breakfast, where nothing distracted them from each other and everything, even their sheets, held the faint smell of sea salt. He wasn’t about to tell any of that to Silja though. 

The girl pouted, smudging her lilac lipstick at the corners. “Didn’t you miss me at all? Not even a little bit?” 

“No.”

She smiled. Her neck moved to the side as her eyes mustering him. “You and your attitude. I really missed that.”

Harry let his head fall back and for a moment Y/N forgot to eye the girl hitting on her boyfriend and instead stared at his throat. She longed to kiss him there, too. The darkened expression taking over his relaxed face quickly brought her attention back. Thinking about kissing him had made her miss the words Silja had said to upset him. 

“You’re wasting your time missing me.”

At last, Silja’s smile dropped. “You’re still with her, then?”

“Yep,” he replied shortly. 

 “Fine,” Silja pushed the long brown locks off her shoulder and crossed her arms, “maybe if she fucked you right you wouldn’t be such an asshole all the time.” 

“Fuck off, Silja,” Harry snapped, pushing himself off the wall to instantly tower over her.

“Harry! Your turn again, mate.”

Without giving her as much as a second look, Harry turned away and followed Eric’s call. Dena’s hand rested on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing her gently whilst smiling at her. Y/N exhaled loudly and relaxed. She didn’t doubt Harry’s capability of getting rid of Silja. She’d also truly meant it when she’d said that she trusted him. But after their argument she wasn’t so sure that he didn’t want to receive some affection tonight, be it from anybody. While she would have hated it, simply entertaining Silja’s flirting wouldn’t have been cheating. A warm feeling overtook any worry left in her body upon watching him turn Silja away. He didn’t bother look at her again but walked back to his friends to resume the game, treating her like she wasn’t even there. He didn’t even give Silja the satisfaction of remaining angered by her words. Giving up her attempts, Silja walked away and left the room quickly, her cheeks slightly rosy in embarrassment. 

“Remind me to kiss him later for that,” Y/N said, her voice holding more love for him than she would usually let on whilst angry. 

Clara laughed. “So you’re not mad at him anymore.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that I was or I might still be.”

“What were you two fighting about anyway?” Dena asked. 

Y/N took another long sip from her drink, before remembering that she’d wanted to not drink any more for the night. Oh well. 

“He didn’t come home last night. Without notifying me. He fell asleep at stupid Rick’s place and neither of them bothered shooting me a text or ringing me about it. I spent all night worried sick.”

Y/N’s expression hardened at the thought of waiting up for him. She’d paced around the living room of their new flat before settling on the couch, vowing to stay awake until he returned. She’d had half a mind not to call his mother or sister, not quite worried enough to ask them. 

“I didn’t see him until an hour before coming here ‘cause I had to work today. So we didn’t have time to properly fight about it.”

“Didn’t he say he was sorry?”

“Sure he did, as well as stating that I was overreacting and not his mother.”

“Ugh, men,” Dena grumbled, then she changed the subject, “Let’s get refills in the kitchen!”

Harry got bored of the game after the fifth round, but stayed to play until the team he’d joined won by a margin. Then he politely excused himself from playing another round. Though she’d told him she didn’t want to see him, Harry really wanted to see Y/N and he figured over an hour of distance sufficed for her to calm down. Maybe she would even allow herself to be happy about him finding her. He strolled around the room, then went looking in the hall and finally searched the lounge. If only she were a little taller, he thought once more. All of sudden he heard a loud shout. It wasn’t one of the usual party hollers, it was one that held no joy at all. With swift strides Harry crossed the room, turned left in the hallway and entered the kitchen. This time he didn’t have to search to see her. Y/N was sitting on the counter, her legs dangling down and her hands curling around the stone surface. Across from her was the kitchen table on which all of the different liquor bottles had been placed. It was also where the single shout turned into several. A guy Harry hadn’t ever seen around campus before stood next to a broken bottle of vodka. His hand curled into a fist and his face was red. Opposite him stood Dena, a girl Harry barely knew beyond her being a friend of Y/N. Next to Dena was a guy named Dylan, his face painted with guilt and worry. 

“You fucking broke my shit!” the stranger shouted. 

Y/N flinched. It wasn’t Dena who’d pissed off the wrong guy, but Dylan who had tried to make a drink for them. She didn’t feel any less involved if the guy were to be shouting at her. The second the bottle had broken and the tall stranger exclaimed that it’d been his, Y/N had felt fear curse through her. She hated it. She hated how a man shouting was so scary that she froze in place.  Just like she always did when afraid, her eyes began to search for Harry. Heavy like a wave and equally overwhelming was the relief when she saw him lingering in the doorway.  Their eyes met. Y/N visibly relaxed. She could read the question in the look he was giving her and she eagerly nodded. There were so few people scattered around the small place, Harry had no trouble reaching the counter.  Once in arms reach she held out her right hand, whimpering when his fingers slotted through hers and holding on tight. Any anger towards each other was forgotten the moment their skin touched. Y/N gave a determined pull until he stood next to where she was sitting, her legs touching his waist. Harry didn’t say anything, but he allowed her to let go of his hand to instead hold on to his shoulder. His own settled heavily on her thigh, relishing the feeling of her bare skin. He didn’t complain when her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his shirt, nor did she mind how intimate it felt to have his hand on her naked thigh. His eyes quickly scanned her face, waiting for her nod, confirming that she was alright. Y/N smiled gently, relief mirroring in her eyes. Harry returned her smile. His heart clenching when he noticed the faint veil of alcohol before her eyes. Ever so slightly, their heads leaned towards each other, then his nose softly touched her forehead.

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Dena said defensively, “and these bottles are for everybody to use.”

Harry shifted closer to Y/N but removed his nose form her hairline. Unwillingly he turned his attention back to where the argument grew. The stranger’s head, figuratively doubling in size by the minute, was red and looming over Dena like a balloon hovering in the sky. He had to admit it was impressive that Dena, equally short as Y/N, refused to back off.

“I wasn’t asking you! You and your friend better figure out how to replace my drink and you better do it fast!”

“Mate, lay off a bit, will ya? They didn’t do anything on purpose,” Harry interrupted, his voice calm and steady, “Why don’t you just grab one of the ten other bottles and leave ‘em alone?” 

The stranger, slightly shorter than Harry, turned to look at them. Y/N tightened her hold on his shoulder. She was mentally preparing herself to jump off the counter and at the stranger’s throat instead, should he as much as try to pick a fight with Harry. Noticing her shift beside him, Harry’s hold on her intensified.

“Leave them alone?” the tall guy snapped, “that was twenty fucking quid he broke!” 

“Bit embarrassing that you’re whining about twenty quid,” Harry said, wearing a smug grin, “and picking a fight like some kind of neanderthals who found out somebody’s pissed into his cave.” 

Dena giggled and so did Y/N, along with some bystanders who’d gathered to watch. The bloke narrowed his eyes, first at Harry, then at the girl sitting beside him. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him. “Quit looking at me and spare me any sexist bullshit you’re about to say.” 

The guy rolled his eyes, then smiled. “You’re pretty for a bitch.”

Y/N’s hand yanked Harry back by his shoulder equally fast as he’d pushed off the counter to lunge forward and at the guy. The movement caused him to knock against the counter uncomfortably. She didn’t let go and didn’t move, despite Harry’s enraged breathing getting louder.  

“Fuck you!” Harry shouted, eyes wide. 

Anger oozed out of his pores and heat settled in the small kitchen. Calm and collected only a moment ago, he was all the more scarier now that he was enraged. Scary enough to make the stranger take back a step. Y/N loosened her hold on Harry’s shoulder, sliding her hand down to press against his back instead. She rubbed his spine gently, hoping to ease him by letting him know she was okay. 

"You need to leave,” Y/N stated, her voice calm.

“Definitely,” Dena agreed, her eyes trained on her friend before finding Harry.

He didn’t return her gaze, his eyes remained on the tall blonde. They stayed put until the guy lowered his empty cup to the table, the movement slow and deliberate. He clearly didn’t want it to look like he was leaving because he was told to, so he took his time. But finally he turned away, before at last leaving the kitchen and hopefully the party all together. 

Harry shuddered upon feeling Y/N’s nose against the shell of his ear. “I’m fine, Harry.”

“What a wanker.”

“A fucking wanker,” Y/N replied, her smile practically audible in her voice. 

Harry turned around to face her, all of his attention returning to where it belonged: her. His eyes looked into hers intently, reading every answer to all of his unspoken questions.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Are you?”

He nodded. “Did he try anything before I came?”

“I noticed him about zero-point-five seconds before you arrived, Harry. I’m fine, I promise.”

Her hands gently took hold of his face. The fingers of her left hand traced along his jawline as tenderly as one would the rim of a glass in hopes of eliciting a sound. That’s how Harry sometimes felt when she touched him. Like she was being as tender as she could possibly fathom to be. 

“Does that mean you’re gonna go back to being mad at me?” As he spoke, Harry moved closer. His hands rested on each side of her hips, allowing his body to get closer to hers as he leaned forward.

Y/N laughed and shook her head, their faces so close they almost touched. She enjoyed the warmth of his breath fanning against her throat. 

“Are you? You were at least as pissed off as I was.”

He shrugged, then playfully nudged her nose with his. “No.”

“Then I think I’ll let it go, too,” she answered, faking to be coy, “For now, you still owe me an apology later.”

Harry laughed. “That’s fair. Promise to mean it this time, too.” 

Her eyes narrowed. She took hold of his chin, holding him still so she could kiss him without giving him the chance to deepen it. The feeling of his mouth slotting with hers, be it as briefly as it was, ignited her like nothing else could. Any remaining worry was pulled from the corners in her body where it had hidden, and was thrown out not to return. Harry took over. All of the space inside her that could belong to an emotion, now belonged to him.

“I knew you didn’t mean it earlier,” she breathed accusingly against his lips. 

“I meant it a little,” he said, curling his hand around her wrist to pull away the hold she’d taken and he kissed her a second time before she could complain. 

Despite their desperation their teeth didn’t clash together, nor did their noses unintentionally bump. They’d kissed too many times not to blindly meet each other without missing. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, hers pushed his aside so it could trespass into his mouth. Frantic hands held on to her hips and her thigh, eager fingers remembered to be gentle as they settled on the back of his neck. Harry moaned and Y/N pulled away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, just enough space between them so she could speak. 

Harry’s kisses trailed down from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and her jaw, his lips warm, wet and determined. He allowed one kiss to last a little longer, followed by a small lick to her earlobe.

As satisfied as could be as long as they weren’t alone, he raised his head to look at her again. “What for?”

“Being on my side even when we’re fighting.” 

The smile gracing her features was so genuine he could have melted, just like her words were spoken with more love behind them than he could detect. He smiled and willingly moved his head to the side, so she could kiss below his ear. The heat in his belly grew and he let her know by squeezing her hips.

“Ditto.”

[evolutionsvoid]

Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve.   I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web.  It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.

[dirty-holy-things]

Christmas Tree Farm

Part III of the Invisible String Series

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV Read on Ao3.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader

Rating: Mature, for slight references to sex and swearing.

Words: 6.6k update

Chapters: 4 / ?

Warnings: Very few. Swearing, subtle references to sex.

Author's Notes: This story is broken into two segments, with the first half being Reader and Bucky's first Christmas together, and the second half being Reader and Bucky's first Christmas spent with the Wilson's, their found family.

Summary: The winter holidays can be a challenging time for many, and you and Bucky were no stranger to lonely Christmases. But love has a curious, insistent way of melting away the ice that locks away and protects our hearts; and as time passes, both you and Bucky finally allow yourselves a little bit of that holiday cheer.

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The city lights somehow shone even brighter, thanks to the addition of copious (or one could say, excessive) amounts of Christmas lights that likely threatened to upend the entire city’s power grid. Every storefront was decked out with tinsel and trees, each mannequin was dressed in their holiday best, and you couldn’t take two steps without being greeted by a vibrant advertisement for “This season’s must-buy holiday gifts!” While you certainly weren’t a Grinch by any means, you also hadn’t had much of a reason to celebrate the holiday through the past few years; that was, until you found yourself a 106 year old, semi-stable boyfriend with a secret love for Christmas that was comparable to that of an eight year old on a sugar high.

The city lights somehow shone even brighter, thanks to the addition of copious (or one could say, excessive) amounts of Christmas lights that likely threatened to upend the entire city’s power grid. Every storefront was decked out with tinsel and trees, each mannequin was dressed in their holiday best, and you couldn’t take two steps without being greeted by a vibrant advertisement for “This season’s must-buy holiday gifts!” While you certainly weren’t a Grinch by any means, you also hadn’t had much of a reason to celebrate the holiday through the past few years; that was, until you found yourself a 106 year old, semi-stable boyfriend with a secret love for Christmas that was comparable to that of an eight year old on a sugar high.

Bucky Barnes was an intimidating figure to those who saw him in the streets, but after nearly a year of dating, you had thoroughly cracked that hard exterior to see the gentle and romantic man who had been locked away and frozen for so long. People on the streets saw a powerful man with a gleaming metal arm; you saw a man who could pick you up with ease, throwing you over his shoulder before pinning you down and tickling you. Shoppers in the grocery store saw a brooding and intimidating figure; you saw him fall asleep on the couch, his frame protectively curled around his cat Alpine. You had once been like all those strangers, only seeing that which was on the surface, but you had come to know and love him as a whole person.

And as such, it did not come as that much of a shock when, shortly after Thanksgiving dinner, Bucky’s requited love for Christmas broke through for the first time. “Hey, doll,” he started, an inquisitive tone in his voice. “Where’s your Christmas music? Been goin’ through your records but I can’t seem’ta find any.”

“Don’t have any,” you called out from the bedroom, folding the last of his laundry that had taken up permanent residence in your top right dresser drawer. You strolled into the living room to see him still flicking determinedly through your collection, hoping against hope to find something that would put the apartment into the holiday spirit. “Buck, I’m pretty sure I don’t have any Christmas records — but I can play some music from my phone, if you want me to.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweets.”

He sank into the plush fabric of your sofa, sighing defeatedly. You laughed at his exaggerated response, before moving to sit next to him, draping your legs across his and nestling into his arms. You pulled your phone out of the pocket of your leggings, searching for a Christmas playlist, before you were distracted by Bucky’s lingering, pensive look. “What’s on your mind, Bucky?”

He sighed, metal hand tracing cool circles into your exposed skin. “It’s nothing, it’s silly.”

You frowned, not thrilled with his sudden withdrawal. “Clearly it’s not nothing. C’mon, Buck, you can talk to me.”

“I haven’t had a real Christmas since 1943,” he said slowly. “Hydra certainly didn’t celebrate, and after I came back from the Blip, I didn’t have anyone to share one with. I thought — I had thought, maybe, since I have you, we could do something for Christmas together. But, if you’re not really in’ta Christmas, that’s okay.”

You could tell that his casual tone was forced, you could pick up the subtle changes in volume and pitch. Your heart ached for him, as you thought about the loneliness that he had endured for decades, all of the holidays and joy and traditions and memories that he had missed out on; and while you weren’t a Christmas person by nature, by god, you were going to be one for Bucky Barnes.

***

You fully assimilated into the Christmas spirit and enthusiasm, trying to provide Bucky with every sweet, cheesy, moment of joy that he had been denied for so long. The weeks leading up to Christmas were positively filled to the brim, near-bursting, with holiday spirit and theme-appropriate music, the lyrics echoing throughout your apartment to the extent that you wondered if future tenants may one day hear ghosts of Christmas past — also known as the ghost of Bucky Past, as he sang along to every tune that crooned its way through the small, shared space. You had never seen him so indulgently and freely happy before, so you didn’t begrudge the fourth or fifth playing of the Holiday Hits records, or his subtly-insistent urging for a real Christmas tree.

It was the second week of December when you executed your ‘master plan.’

Manhattan wasn’t exactly known for its Christmas tree farms, so you had planned on making the long and laborious trek out of the city to fetch your own real tree. Bucky was more than happy to oblige, with the promise that he could fell his own Christmas tree; you had no doubt that your sweet, sensitive, and powerful super-soldier could fell whatever tree stood before him. But aside from your confidence in his physical abilities, you wanted to give him this Christmas moment, this Christmas memory — you wanted to give him the opportunity to bring his tree back to your shared space, and to create these Christmas memories with him. You wanted to break his pattern of ignored or heartbroken Christmases, and after he had confessed his love for the holiday that Thanksgiving night, you had been thinking about all of the ways you could make this year special for him.

Bucky had been more than thrilled by your suggestion to drive out of the city for an evening, particularly for a Christmas tree, and the two of you sank into the slow, gentle peace that steadily grew as the car carried you further and further away from the bustling city. You had picked a destination that was quite far from the city center, having seen the positive reviews online and the promise of free hot chocolate; and to be honest, you thought that the brief break from city life could do the two of you some good.

He had picked you up from your apartment, after acquiring this evening’s rental car; and his time spent battling lazy rental car representatives and New York traffic had given you the perfect amount of time to enact your vision for the apartment before his call rang through, informing you that he was here and waiting by the front door. Your drive out of the city had been filled with more and more Christmas music, cups of coffee, and a stash of chocolate chip cookies that you had decided would be appropriate fuel for the evening ahead. Bucky had eaten ten out of the twelve you brought.

The Christmas tree farm was illuminated with countless twinkling globe lights, a soft golden glow radiating around you and bouncing off of the freshly-fallen snow that crunched underneath your boots. Bucky grinned from ear to ear, in an easy way that you had never seen before, and you felt a rush of confidence and surety about your somewhat-secret plan.

Upon your arrival at the Christmas tree farm, Bucky had quickly picked out the prettiest tree in the entire lot; the branches were tightly packed and well-filled with needles that smelled of pine and childhood memories. The attendant who had handed him the axe to fell the tree watched in shock and awe as Bucky cleaved through the tree trunk with two strong strokes; you laughed quietly into your hot chocolate, bemused by your boyfriend’s blatant display of strength. Bucky strapped the tree to the top of the rental car with impressive speed, and it was not long afterwords that you were hurtling back into the city, towards the apartment that the two of you now called home.

Forcing the tall tree into the slim elevator was a challenge, one that Bucky took in stride; and after multiple curse words and sweaty exclamations of frustration, it finally fit to the point in which Bucky could abandon the advanced geometry he had been working at. The ride upwards was humorously tense, as Bucky observed you being pinned in by the tree, and you nervously awaited the arrival that you had planned for your sweet super-soldier.

Your front door now held a large wreath, bedecked with poinsettias and glimmering gold tinsel; the sight caught Bucky off-guard, as he recognized that this was a new addition. “I like the wreath, sweets,” he grinned, moving to shift the tree out of the cramped elevator and free you from its heavy, pine-scented branches.

“Thought some Christmas decorations were in order,” you laughed lightly, finally freed from the cramped elevator; and you briefly wondered how long that fresh pine scent might linger within the small space. Bucky kept the tree upright while you nervously opened the door, suddenly anxious that maybe you had taken the Christmas enthusiasm too far.

Bucky was a man on a mission, as he determinedly hauled the tree through the hallway and into the living room; you had previously cleared a corner for the tree, right next to your patio door, hoping that the ambient light from the city would help to illuminate the tree that would now fill the recently-vacated space. You watched him corner the tree into the wall, ensuring it was supported appropriately, before he turned to survey the apartment that was surrounding him.

You might’ve gone a bit overboard with the Christmas decorations, but you would’ve thrown yourself overboard ten times more to see that smile spreading across Bucky’s face.

The entrance to the apartment now displayed a vibrant poinsettia wreath, and a welcome mat that said ‘happy holidays,’ a sentiment ensconced by the image of ivy and red berries. The tea towels in the kitchen were red and green, boasting cheeky jokes about holiday cheer, and the glassware had been replaced with wine glasses and rocks glasses of emerald green crystal. The kitchen table was fully dressed for Christmas, with gold and green accents at every turn, highlighted with poinsettia blossoms. Your plush ivory couch was now draped with multiple blankets: one chunky knit, one soft and fuzzy, and a wool blanket with a plaid blend of emerald green, dark navy, blood-red, and gold. All of the picture frames and artwork on the wall had been wrapped over to look like Christmas presents, the fireplace was bedecked with mistletoe and holly, and even the bathroom hand soaps had been swapped out for holiday scents.

“Sweets — what’s, what’s all this?” Bucky asked breathlessly, surveying the unexpected sight before him.

“It’s our first Christmas,” you responded, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved to wrap your arms around his waist, savoring the combined scent of pine and that which was distinctly Bucky. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes — and I want to make every kind of Christmas memory with you. I want us to decorate our tree together, I want us to sneakily wrap up presents for each other, I want us to wear silly matching pajamas, I want us to leave the decorations up for way too long just because they bring us back to this perfect moment.”

Bucky’s strong and irresistible hands guided your body towards the couch, your bodies collapsing softly into the cushions as his plush and chapped lips pressed into the soft skin of your neck, biting gently at your racing pulse. You could feel the excitement and joy radiating from Bucky, comparable to the blazing heat of the sun, or a fire, or any other brightly-burning thing, and you knew that your decision to go all-in for Christmas had been the right one. Grinning to yourself, you thought about the extensive, and… myriad applicability of mistletoe you had acquired, and how you might work this into a Christmas miracle of your own.

“I love you, doll,” Bucky exhaled against your flushed skin. “I’ve never felt so fuck’n lucky, to have someone like you lovin’ me.”

You allowed yourself a moment to sink into the weight of his words, allowed yourself to feel appreciated, valued, desired, wanted. “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” you whispered, your hands tracing gently across the sharp and chiseled planes of his face. “Loving you is as easy as breathing… even when you steal all of the covers, or insist on rewatching Lord of the Rings for the fortieth time.”

Bucky laughed, a deep chuckle echoing from his chest as he pulled you closer against his thickly-muscled body. “Looks like quite a lot of mistletoe here, doll,” he grinned, pressing a casual kiss against your forehead as he surveyed the state of the apartment.

“Oh, yeah, that was intentional,” you quipped, giggling as you leaned in for a kiss; only to have Bucky pull away, a devilish and almost dark grin on his face.

“Y’sure you’re ready for that?” He asked, his voice holding a shred of a threat and the weight of a promise.

“Bring it on, Barnes.”

*********************************************************

Christmas had grown to become a full-fledged, extravagant, blowout event with each year that passed. The holiday season started earlier and earlier, as you both plotted and planned for how to one-up the other with some sort of holiday surprise or thoughtful gift; and you eventually grew to ignore the odd looks of your neighbors as the poinsettia wreath was now regularly hung before Thanksgiving dinner was done cooking.

This year, however, was going to be different. After a handful of long-weekend trips down to Louisiana to visit Sam, Sarah, and their family, you and Bucky had decided to take an extended vacation - two weeks, to be exact. The two of you would be sharing both Christmas and New Years with the Wilson family, and you couldn’t possibly be more thrilled — or anxious.

Over the past few years, Bucky and Sam had settled into a brotherly sort of friendship, full of barbed comments, silent hugs, and quiet words of encouragement and advice; and after you met Sarah on your first Memorial Day trip to the small town, the two of you had taken to one another like lifelong best friends, sharing a love for merlot and a sense of worry for the two men who were dead-set on saving the world.

So it came as little surprise when the Wilsons invited the two of you for an extended stay; and you had eagerly agreed to the idea of both a vacation, and a holiday spent with your found family. Bucky had pretended to be resistant for a moment, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to share his time with you,’ but had caved easily when you pressed on the matter. He was likely just as eager to have a family Christmas as you were — but Sam certainly couldn’t know that.

You had spent nearly two months leading up to your trip relentlessly questioning Sarah and Sam about gift ideas, feeling an immense pressure to get things right. You struggled to keep up with the ever-evolving interests of AJ and Cass, and you felt the need to find something perfectly sweet and thoughtful for Sam and Sarah, as they had been so kind as to invite you and Bucky into their home for the holiday season. Bucky was able to sense your nervousness about finding the perfect gifts, and was able to remain fairly level-headed and reasonable as you perused countless stores. However, as empathetic and kind as your super-soldier may be, he was still prone to bouts of boredom or hunger.

“Look, sweets, we could get the kids gift cards and I’m sure they’d be more than happy —“ Bucky started, before you cut him off with an icy glare. You were in the fifth store of the day, and while Bucky’s patience with you had extended far past a reasonable amount, he was admittedly wearing thin.

“No gift cards,” you bit, cutting him off harshly, before rubbing your hand across his forearm gently in apology. “I know Sarah said they didn’t really need any more gaming stuff, but they’ve got a pretty good deal for the new Xbox here…”

Bucky chuckled lightly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss on the temple, forgiving your earlier tension. “With the way you’re try’na spoil them, you’d think they were our own kids.”

You blushed, knowing he was likely right. You were prone to gift-giving and over-indulging the wants and whims of those you loved; Bucky knew that firsthand, and was fair in assuming this would extend to all you loved — whether they were currently in existence or not. “Just imagine if we ever do have kids, Barnes,” you said lightly, hoping the barely-concealed eagerness in your voice didn’t betray you. “Honestly, you’ll be even more of a sucker than me.”

“Me? No, not at all,” he huffed, arms crossing over his broad chest.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from within, unable to picture a situation in which Bucky would be anything other than a marshmallow around children, particularly his own. “Between the two of us, you’re the one who will be a softie. Mark my words, Barnes, you’re gonna be wrapped around a tiny little finger one of these days.”

He chuckled softly, eyes flitting lightly across your body. “Y’call me Barnes an awful lot, sweets.”

You nodded, shoulders raising as if to say, so what?

“Makes me think you might like the name — y’maybe might even want it for yourself,” Bucky grinned, a simultaneously mischievous but sincere glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging your shoulder into his chest. You returned your focus to the sale tags in the store, trying desperately — and futilely — to quell the reflexive, undeniable excitement that came with the idea of a life with Bucky.

Marriage, a home, babies, the whole nine yards — but you were in Target, you were getting way too ahead of yourself. That was a thought for another day, another time.

***

Your arrival at Sam and Sarah’s home had been just as warm and welcoming as you expected, with Sarah ushering you and Bucky upstairs to the spare bedroom that had basically become yours after the extensive number of vacations and visits. You and Bucky both slept well that night, as the long drive had worn you down, and for the first time in several months — if not over a year — you were up the next morning before Bucky Barnes.

It was Christmas Eve, and the excitement of this day was not lost on you; rolling away from Bucky’s solid grasp was a challenge, but you managed to do so without disturbing the sleeping brunette who had been wrapped around you like a weighted blanket. You laughed quietly to yourself as he sleepily grabbed for your pillow, pulling it inwards to cradle it between his arms.

You stealthily snuck out of the room, wanting Bucky to get whatever measure of rest possible, and made yourself decent before heading downstairs to find Sarah in the kitchen. She was dressed and ready for the day, and you slumped into a kitchen chair with a yawn.

“Coffee’s ready, I’d suggest y’get it before Sam and Buck are up.” Sarah joked with a sleepy smile. So far, only the two of you were up, and you gratefully accepted her recommendation for a cup of coffee, appreciating the warmth and rush of caffeine that it offered.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You asked, as the two of you sat down at the kitchen table together.

Sarah smiled into her cup of coffee, taking a long sip before responding. “I’ll probably have’ya give me a hand with the pancakes, you’re a good judge for when to flip them,” she commented, eyes wandering to the bay window that offered an exceptional view of the sunrise. “You can also help me by giving me a heads up about the boys’ Christmas presents.”

You instinctively felt the need to say no, to preserve the integrity of the surprise and excitement of Christmas morning, but you realized that telling Sarah wouldn’t spoil the surprise for the boys. You excitedly discussed the details of the gifts, both for the kids, and for Sam and Bucky, and despite the clock indicating an obscenely early time of 7:48AM, you still felt the Christmas spirit radiating in the cozy kitchen space.

You and Sarah worked together to prepare a full breakfast, consuming cup after cup of coffee until you heard the unmistakable sound of Bucky stepping heavily down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Stepping away from the pancakes for a moment, you quickly started to brew another pot of coffee; and as you returned to your station by the stovetop, you giggled as you felt Bucky’s arms wrap securely around your midsection.

“Well this is a Christmas miracle,” Bucky whispered into the soft skin of your neck. “You’re up and outta bed before me.”

You laughed, turning to faced him as he continued to hold your body against his. “We’re not even to Christmas yet, Barnes — who know what kinda surprises might be in store for you.”

Bucky hummed suggestively, his teeth barely grazing your skin as you shivered against him. Your body instinctively molded to his, and you were in the process of turning around for a kiss when you heard, “Ah, ah, ah!”

You pulled away from Bucky with a laugh, seeing Sarah standing by the sink, hands planted firmly on her waist as she stared the two of you down with the kind of glare that only mothers could possess. “Not in my kitchen! Save that shit for Brooklyn.”

There was an undeniable heat in your cheeks, and you could see the pink tinge that Bucky’s face took on as Sarah called the two of you out. He still kept his hands on you, but with less suggestive placement. “M’sorry, Sarah, I just couldn’t help myself.”

She rolled her eyes before tossing him the coffee mug she had just finished drying; Bucky, of course, caught it despite the lack of warning. “Well, help yourself to some coffee and breakfast - I suggest you get started before the boys are up, it’ll be a frenzy before too long.”

Bucky laughed and grabbed your mostly-empty coffee mug as he strode across the kitchen; he was filling the second cup as a thunderous sound echoed through the house, as Cass, AJ, and Sam quickly filled the remaining space in the kitchen. The boys were startlingly hyper despite having just woken up - you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up that exuberantly - and Sam yawned while making a beeline for the coffee pot that Bucky held in his metal grasp. The two men exchanged the coffee pot silently, but peacefully; and you and Sarah stepped back from the kitchen to rest on the couch, to enjoy the remainder of the morning and watch the feeding frenzy that was comparable to piranhas descending on the sun-streaked Louisiana kitchen.

***

The remainder of Christmas Eve had gone smoothly and happily; AJ and Cass fell asleep close to 11PM, about halfway through The Grinch, and Bucky and Sam had carried them to bed despite weak protestations that they wanted to stay up to catch Santa. As soon as Sam and Bucky returned to give the all-clear, indicating the boys were soundly asleep, you and Sarah set to work on bringing out all of the gifts that had been carefully concealed.

You were stacking presents meticulously when you saw Bucky taking a handful of the Christmas cookies that had been left out for Santa; Sam had noticed as well, and he frowned. “Hey, man, I don’t see you in a red suit with a white beard,” Sam whispered loudly.

“Don’t see you in one either,” Bucky responded around a mouthful of a poorly-iced sugar cookie. The five of you had spent the afternoon baking and icing cookies for Santa, the neighbors, and the mailman; and while it was adorable and endearing, there was a distinct lack of artistic talent for cookie decorating.

“Bucky, share the cookies,” You laughed, nudging him to hand over the plate that he had taken hostage. Bucky grumbled, but you could see the way the corner of his lip quirked up; he was just as amused and happy in this scene as you were. The remainder of the cookies were shared, Sarah finished stuffing the stockings, and you placed the last present under the tree; looking at the last gift, you saw your swooping handwriting on the tag: To Bucky, with love.

“Is that everything?” Sarah asked, an exhausted but content look upon her face. “Last call for gifts, before Santa takes off for the night.”

Bucky coughed, giving Sam a side-eyed look that didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Should be everything,” Bucky responded cooly, but you could see the subtle flexing and whirring in the prosthetic arm that indicated a sort of nervousness within him. It was Christmas Eve, what could he be stressing about? Unless a gift had gotten lost in-between airports; but you had accounted for everything, you were sure of it. Shaking off the feeling as a side effect of exhaustion, you smiled when Bucky extended a hand to help you off the floor. “Ready to say g’night, doll?”

You nodded, and the both of you said quiet goodnights to Sam and Sarah before heading to bed for the evening. Tucking yourselves into the warm, soft bed, you saw the clock blink at 12:08AM. “Merry Christmas Bucky,” you whispered softly, planting a gentle kiss against his forehead, the soft glow of the moon illuminating the few silver hairs that had slowly appeared along his hairline.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” he mumbled happily, from the warm space between sleep and waking, the space where anything good could feel true, the space where Santa might be real and the world might be kind.

***

You had forgotten how early kids tend to wake up on Christmas morning. A silent apology to your parents passed through your groggy mind as you worked to drag yourself out of bed, having been roused by the inescapable sound of fists banging on the closed door and children’s muffled screams of, “Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Bucky wore his usual early-morning scowl; one that would’ve sent fear coursing through any rational person, but it was a look you knew and loved. He pressed the soft, downy pillow over his head, trying to muffle out AJ & Cass’s insistent excitement. “Too… early…”

You laughed hoarsely, your voice not fully awake just yet. “You try telling them that, see how far it gets you,” you suggested, as you grabbed for your glasses and the pair of pajama pants that you kept handy for decency’s sake. Bucky grumbled again, and glancing at the clock, you realized you couldn’t blame him. It hadn’t yet cracked 6AM, and while Bucky was the early riser out of the two of you, this was a solid hour before his internal clock would typically wake him up. “C’mon, Buck, up and at ‘em. It’s Christmas morning, there’s presents and coffee waiting.”

The two of you finally emerged from the door, disheveled and sleep-deprived, only to be greeted by the loud cheers of AJ and Cass, who informed you that everyone else was already up.

***

The den quickly devolved into a chaotic mess of torn wrapping paper, slackened bows, crumpled tissue paper, and more toys and electronics than the room should’ve rightly been able to hold. The adults sat back and watched as AJ and Cass tore through every present, shouting and jumping and screaming in excitement with each gift that was voraciously revealed. You had shrugged your shoulders in a subtle I’m sorry to Sarah, as the kids triumphantly lifted the new Xbox above their heads. She didn’t seem to mind too much, however, after watching AJ and Cass tackle Uncle Bucky to the ground with promises and threats of ‘kicking his old butt at Mario Kart.’

As the glitter and tinsel settled throughout the love-filled room, AJ and Cass proceeded to withdraw from the early-morning celebrations to play with their new assortment of toys, games, and electronics. You had finished your second cup of coffee and had sent Bucky to retrieve your third, while you and Sam plucked the remaining gifts from underneath the tree, to be distributed amongst the adults.

You passed Sarah a thick envelope that was tied with a silver ribbon, and watched as she pulled forth a stack of papers of various sizes — airplane tickets, hotel check-in details, Broadway tickets — and happy tears flooded her cheeks as she hugged both you and Bucky tightly, thanking you for the fully-planned vacation. “Oh, and it’s not written anywhere officially, but we’re also volunteering to babysit,” you added, and laughed as Sarah grinned and clenched her fist in excitement.

“We are?” Bucky asked, pretending to be surprised. You elbowed him gently, and he corrected himself. “Yes, of course we are.”

The gift-giving continued, with lots of laughter and happy tears. Sam and Sarah had gifted you the slate-blue Le Creuset you had been eyeing wistfully for years, and Bucky received a set of tickets to a symphony performance and dance night, featuring hits from the 1940s. “Might have’ta bust out the old uniform for this one, doll,” he said with a sly grin. “Used to look real nice in those slacks, y’outght’a have the chance to appreciate the view.”

“Oh, I can only imagine the number of girls you pulled in that uniform, Barnes,” you teased. He shrugged nonchalantly as a thick arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his relaxed body. “Hey, ease up — you’re gonna make me spill my coffee!”

Bucky planted a solid kiss against your forehead as he drew you in closer, albeit with more consideration for the scalding-hot beverage in your hand this time. “That’s ancient history, sweetheart. No need to worry about Dolores at the nursing home stealing me from you.”

“Y’sure about that, Buck? I’ve heard stories about you and a redhead named Dolores…” Sam interjected, a playfully antagonistic hint to his voice. Bucky retaliated by throwing a pillow at Sam’s head, with the kind of ferocity that could only come from a super-soldier. “Kidding, kidding,” Sam laughed, as the pillow hit him squarely in the shoulder.

Both you and Bucky laughed, and he plucked the cup of steaming coffee from your hands, taking a sip before commenting further. “Only one girl I ever truly loved, sweetheart, and she’s right here with me,” he said softly, his voice rough and gravelly, but full of sincerity.

You knew that Bucky loved you, and you knew that you loved him. Little else in the world seemed to matter past those two facts, but you also understood that your shared love existed in a complex and challenging world. A world that you struggled to find a place in, a world that had all too many places for Bucky to fill; the freedom of narrative had been stolen from both of you, but as you retrieved your Christmas gift for Bucky, you hoped you had found a way to give a piece of that narrative back to him.

You handed him a thin, flat box; meticulously and nervously wrapped, the tag unmistakeable; To Bucky, with love.

You watched him open it excitedly, and he pulled out two photos. The first photo was from the original Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, the one that had stood for several years now. The second photo was one that you had taken yourself, of the recently-updated exhibit; specifically, the segment of the exhibit that documented Bucky’s history. You watched his facial expressions closely as he examined the differences, and you saw his jaw twitch and throat tighten as he focused more closely upon the second, most recent image.

“W-what’s this, doll?” He asked, his voice shaking.

You placed a hand gently over his, the one that held the image of the updated exhibit. “This,” you spoke softly, pointing at the inscription, “This is your legacy, Bucky Barnes. The true one. The one that matters, the one that countless people will read every single day. This is the story that everyone will know.”

Looking at the photograph grasped tightly within Bucky’s human hand, you read aloud the new inscription.

“Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front.

Captured by HYDRA troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation, torture, and experimentation; but his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood best friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, the Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed HYDRA bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.”

Bucky nodded, commenting quietly. “I’ve seen this part, at the Smithsonian.”

“Yes, that was the original; the one you would’ve seen. They also noted your date of death — but as you well know, there’s more to the story,” you added gently, drawing your finger across the image to direct Bucky’s attention to the new addition.

“Barnes was tragically captured by HYDRA operatives after what was perceived to be a deadly fall. Captain America and the Howling Commandos mourned their loss of their brother and companion, with the unit fully dissolving after the loss of Captain America.

Barnes was kept as a HYDRA prisoner of war for decades, before being freed through the work of his childhood best friend. Recruited by Rogers to fight against the Titan known as Thanos, Barnes fought valiantly alongside the Avengers and helped restore the world to its rightful state.

Barnes is recognized as one of the great heroes of our time, having successfully overcome the might of both HYDRA and Thanos. As a nation, and as a global community, we now look to Barnes as an example: an example of what is good, what is right, what is resilient, what is brave and unbreakable.”

Your hands were shaking as you finished reading the new inscription, the new addition to the exhibit; and while your hands were shaking, all of Bucky was shaking. You reached an unsteady hand out towards him, letting it settle onto his shallowly breathing chest. “This is how the world will remember you, Bucky. Not as the Winter Soldier, but as a hero, as James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier was never you — and nobody will make that mistake again.”

Bucky huffed, exhaling strongly, and you could see that he was fighting off the tears that were threatening to spill from his ocean-blue eyes; you reached to hold his hand, squeezing it tightly as you smiled up at him. His bottom lip trembled slightly as his free hand came up to stroke your face; you leaned into the cool feeling of the vibranium against your warm cheek and kissed the corner of his hand that lingered against you.

“How’d you manage to pull this off, doll?” Bucky asked, voice shaking.

You shrugged and smiled playfully. “I think you’re forgetting that I work for the Smithsonian Institute, Buck. I was able to pull a few strings, call in a few favors — and anyways, museums are pretty heavily invested in having the correct information.”

Bucky laughed hoarsely, the tears receding before they had the opportunity to fall. Sam and Sarah had watched on quietly, both of them feeling grateful for the acceptance and love that you and Bucky had found with one another. “Y’know, Buck, I was thinking that your gift was pretty impressive, but after this… I dunno, man. She might have you beat.”

You looked back and forth between the two men; clearly, secrets had been exchanged, and you had been left out of it. Bucky winced as he leaned over to retrieve your gift, agreeing with Sam. “Yeah, shit, I don’t know how I can follow that. Rewriting history? Jesus, you didn’t even give me a chance.”

Bucky placed a long, narrow box in your hands, and despite his previous comment, he still smiled excitedly as you picked at the red, snowflake-covered wrapping paper. “Whatever it is, Buck, I know I’m gonna love it.”

The lid to the box opened with ease, and the contents both shocked and confused you for a moment. Your fingers nimbly grasped the silver dog tags that rested within the box, the metal chain clinking against itself as you looked more closely.

JAMES B BARNES

32557030 T42 2B

R. BARNES

3092 STOCKTON RD

SHELBYVILLE IN

The tags had been unmistakeable, undeniably familiar, from the moment you laid eyes on them. Holding the tags tightly within your hand, you turned to Bucky with questions in your eyes, and on your lips, but he beat you to it.

“Yes, these were mine. But they’re yours now.”

You stuttered, still shocked by the gesture. “B-But Bucky, aren’t you supposed to keep these on you? Isn’t it like some sort of rule? In case — oh, god, in case anything ever happened —“

Bucky shushed you as you became increasingly worried by the thought of something happening to him, the thought of him disappearing without anything remaining to identify him as the man that you loved. “Shh, doll. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, and that’s exactly why I’m givin’ these to you. I promise, I’m never gonna leave you. I’ll never be far enough away from you to need these ever again.”

While Bucky may not have cried, you certainly did, unable to fight off the swell of emotions that hit you like a tidal wave — but a tidal wave of all good things. The weight of his words ad his gesture was overwhelming; he was handing you a piece of himself, entrusting it to you, and promising that you’d never again have to face a world without him in it. You thought about these same dog tags, how they had rested against his chest for decades, and now having this piece of him so close to your heart threatened to entirely overwhelm you.

“I love you, Bucky, god, I don’t even know what else to say right now, I love you more than anything —“ Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, and you breath was a staccato rhythm as your gaze flitted between the dog tags and the man they belonged to.

Bucky grinned, and you could see the threat of tears had returned. “Just promise me you’ll wear ‘em — and that you won’t lose ‘em.”

You nodded and smiled sweetly at him, before handing him the dog tags so he could fasten them around your neck. His hands cupped your chin and brought you in for a gentle kiss, despite the protests of Sam and Sarah; but they sounded worlds away, because your whole world was right here, holding you, and would never let you go.

***

Taglist: @bdavishiddlesbatch @aleynaandrews @who-is-a-heretic-now

[polandspringz]

First Impressions of Tokyo 24-Ku

Just as a warning, if you really liked the first episode, then don’t read this! I’m going to come off as very critical, and I don’t want to dampen anyone’s fun with this new original series.

Now, I had made a post before the show aired about how I was already skeptical (although I guess more interested) in Cloverworks doing a series with the main characters design being red, green, blue, and having them called RGB, because I was familiar with Cloverworks having done the music video for Yoasobi’s song RGB. I’m not linking the post because this won’t show up in the tags, but there is a famous Japanese novel that uses this RGB concept and is essentially about three friends who had a fight and went their separate ways and later reunite (or that is how it was presented in the RGB music video/song). Tokyo 24-ku takes inspiration from this in a quite obvious way, and I don’t think you can really argue otherwise that they just thought about the RGB idea since it is a prominent novel and their studio worked on something for it.

This isn’t criticism, I just wanted to explain my thoughts that I had going into the show, because I did go in ready to be every critical of it. Tokyo 24-ku just uses that as a baseline idea and for the character designs, and has its own distinct identity with a sci-fi esque action plot. I was interested to see what they would do, especially it’s an anime original, and I always want to support those.

However, this is Cloverworks. The last year has been very rough on their image as a studio, with Promised Neverland S2 last January, and then the amazing set up of Wonder Egg Priority to the way it crashed and burned in the finale. I would argue that they’ve been struggling with their projects since Persona 5 the Animation (their first after branding themselves differently from A-1 Pictures). Cloverworks obviously has some very talented animators working under their name, and are doing a good job welcoming original stories and ideas. But, with their track record, I was very concerned when I saw their lineup for Winter 2021. They are spread across three series again- Tokyo 24-ku, My Dress Up Darling, and Akebi-chan no Sailor Fuku.

So going into the pilot, I was looking out for a few things: 1) How would the work set itself apart as an original with the knowledge that it was somewhat based/inspired by a novel? 2) How will the animation look? 3) Should I be concerned by too much good animation? 4) And just general story telling flaws with it being a risk to create an original story and not having a source to adapt from.

So, now my actual thoughts on the episode.

I didn’t like it. The set-up/plot is interesting, and I probably will keep watching to see how it goes. The one hour runtime was something I didn’t realize until around fifteen minutes in, and while it acts as a good pilot, the pacing bothered me. Mainly once the big conflict of the episode started, once the three protagonists got the phone call and began to take action, everything seemed to be taking off. Aoi started running to the tracks, jumping onto buildings to avoid traffic, but then he started doing flips and parkour. Tension would start and it seemed like we were just going to rush to the scene but then Kouki had to stop and talk to the assistant, and every time we would start taking action to solve the problem, we had to stop and explain. Aoi’s flips were obviously to show off animation to hook people in on a “cool scene”, but I was so frustrated because he was wasting time by not just running across the rooftops, but jumping down to hop on street signs and then go back up a building again. If we were so short on time, it just broke my immersion. 

And while there were a lot of well animated shots (the ear shot was kind of gross but well animated) the reason I’m concerned is Cloverworks did a ONE HOUR SPECIAL PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS and they still have to animate two other shows this season. With their track record of submitting WEP’s episodes minutes before they were supposed to air, I am extremely worried to see them going all out like this. I get that they are probably doing this because it is an original, and its a risk so they need to hook people more. That’s the same reason why I believe that Cloverworks decided to “let TPN S2 sink so WEP could continue to float” because they had a serious story to tell in WEP and they could not let it crumble (until the finale of course). I am worried that we will see Tokyo 24-ku’s quality drop, or the other shows will also have great pilots and then they all will start fall apart across the episodes until they pick only ONE to focus on. I said this last year when discussing the issues with TPN and WEP, but compared to other studios, Cloverworks is based mainly in one building, they don’t have three to four studios like Bones, and they were just a small side studio from A-1 until they broke off. The backlash against Cloverworks last year is also why I believe they are working with Wit Studio on Spy X Family, another studio that is struggling (but financially). I think the parent company(/companies) might have decided that it was for the best to have both these studios work together to help them both from collapsing.

TLDR: When the big running sequence started at the end of the episode as Aoi went to rescue Mari, I was crying because I already thought about how they had blown their budget.

But, back to Tokyo 24-ku. I was unable to really get into the first episode. The character designs were nice and I do like the art style of Kanoko Noko (I love Prince of Stride), but some of the women looked a little strange in their proportions. I’m also a bit confused because on the official promotional art, the protagonists’ eye colors all match their hair (green w/ green, blue w/ blue, etc.), but in the actual show they’re mixed and matched (green w/ red, blue w/ green, etc.) There’s also the fact that the show starts in 2020, and goes into 2021, so while it is an alternate universe where the pandemic couldn’t have happened, it also breaks immersion. While I’m sure some scenes are building to something greater, some of the scenes were a bit odd. Like the opening scene of the kid getting hit by a car, and then in the flashback where the protagonists are just standing there and then someone punches the other. They both made me laugh at their suddenness, but should I have laughed at that? I laughed because they felt awkward. But those are my more minor gripes with the first episode, so I’ll leave it at that.

[indianamoonshine]

Chapter 7 | Superman (Ice Cream)

Summary: Every summer you work on your father’s strawberry farm with your three sisters. It’s a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. This year, your father’s old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. Din Djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become…well, let’s fact it…smitten.

Rating: (+18) for future and explict sexual content.

A/N: Hi friends! This chapter isn't as long as the others, but I've already got a head start on the next one!

Warnings: I can't find anything in this short chapter that would trigger anybody, so yay!

One can tell a lot about a person by their choice of ice cream.

For instance: Rhea likes honey flavored. It’s a rarity, but Scoops specializes in it. It meant she was sweet, though refined, and organic in these regards. Charlotte prefers amaretto fudge which implies she is a hopeless romantic and the kind of woman who loves vintage films (that alone says quite a bit). You prefer Superman. Maybe that meant the obvious; you’re the youngest and a little bit of a fledgling with a silly sense of humor. You like to be doused in color and leave a sweet taste on people’s lips (some say you’d do anything to please and they could be right).

And Din, well, you were surprised to find that Din ordered sherbert; raspberry and just one scoop. When you questioned his choice (not to say sherbert wasn’t tasty, but at an ice cream parlor it just felt wrong) he justified it by saying he didn’t like the texture of ice cream. Ice cream reminds me of snot, he says to you. You still haven’t gotten that out of your head (and was a bit turned off when you received your cone because of it).

Scoops is in the next town over. It’s a tourist town full of counter-culture fanatics and overlooks the stunning landscape of Lake Michigan. The beach is always packed with families toting cheap red coolers or wild young adults slathered in sunscreen. The air is light and clean with no trace of salt, but it’s a glorious kind of smell you’ve never been able to describe. Lake Michigan is something of mystery – after all, it’s one of the biggest freshwater lakes in the world -- but its appeal might be because it’s watched you grow throughout the years. The great body of water is something of a deity, all-powerful and all-encompassing in its compassion and protectiveness.

The weather is still scorching, but while the ice cream helps, it melts quickly. Along the boardwalk where Scoops is located are dozens of shops all lined up in a neat row and bustling with smiling people, laughing with one another, and arms weighed down with chic looking boutique bags. Most of the population is wealthy because of its tourism and the ridiculous economic situation, so this comes as no surprise. Charlotte and Rhea fawn over the window displays, pointing out which expensive items of clothing they wish they could afford.

Charlotte squeals upon seeing a sundress with a silhouette that she couldn’t possibly deny; Rhea agrees enthusiastically. While they gaggle, you keep your eyes on some birds that dive for pieces of corn dogs fallen upon the walkway. There was a lot going on so it was only natural that your brain retreat to idle, given that you had little to no spending money in general.

“We have to go in,” Charlotte sings to Rhea. “We have to. I need it.”

Rhea admits that she couldn’t pass up the chance either but promises she wouldn’t buy the same dress. The two of them invite both you and Din inside, but you shake your heads, eager of the idea to be alone with one another. It was a risky thing, especially considering how your feelings for Din exposed themselves upon your face like traffic signs. While your sisters certainly knew of your schoolgirl crush on Din, they’ve made no indication they suspect Din of reciprocating those feelings. How embarrassing for you.

When the girls are out of view, door closing behind them with a ring of a silver bell, Din immediately turns to you with a grin. It’s a slight grin – the kind you wouldn’t have been able to notice had it not been for your keen observation of him. His thoughts, actions, and feelings show upon his face like a stroke patient’s might – a little lopsided and faint, but still genuine. You can’t help but wonder why he’s so hesitant to show any exuberant display around anyone else. Did that have anything to do with his family? Any past relationships? Even his career? The career you had no inkling of? It wasn’t like pulling teeth; getting him to chuckle seems easy enough, but his friendliness couldn’t be mistaken for jolliness in any sense of the word.

Either way, Din is smiling – albeit, faintly – as he appears next to you.

“Were you planning that?” he teases, spooning his sherbert.

You shrug, licking the sides of your waffle cone. “I was counting on it.”

The two of you smile at one another and continue your walk with pleasant conversation. You people-watch and he casually jokes around by creating exaggerated scenarios for each of them as they pass. (“That guy in the red swim trunks and sports shades definitely cheats on his girlfriend.”) You can’t help but wonder if you sound ridiculous by the way you snort with laughter each time he says something clever, but he grins pleasantly anyway. It’s difficult to not get a big head each time you manage to get him to do anything other than monitor his surroundings – you notice he has a habit of it, despite how hard he tries to pretend he doesn’t.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna try it?” you offer, ice cream cone melting a bit down the sides.

Din wrinkles his nose but sighs after a moment, maybe weakened by your puppy dog eyes. Wishful thinking. “Alright. Just for you.”

You smile widely with satisfaction, bringing the cone up to his lips. And just when he’s about to bend down to lick the sugary treat, you push the cone onto his face. Din blinks, expression blank, and you’re afraid you might’ve crossed a line. The colorful ice cream stains his chin, dripping down onto his neck, and then soils the collar of his t-shirt. You prepare for the blow, cringing a bit under his gaping. But just when you’re about to stutter an apology and run away, Din presses his lips in a thin line to stop himself from letting out a full-bodied laugh.

“Oh, you think that’s funny don’t you?” he raises his brows in jest.

You sigh out in relief. He’s clearly amused. “Yes actually,” you quip, donning a pair of innocent and fluttering eyes.

He nods a few times, lips pursed, and humming with consideration. “I see,” he muses, hands placing themselves on your hips and squeezing.

You shriek in a fit of giggles as he pushes you gently against the brick of a nearby building. It’s cold against your skin, but nowhere near as chilly as Din’s milky lips peppering chaste kisses against your cheeks. His lashes bat against you, tickling your cheeks, and you become sticky with fruity condensed milk as the gleeful bombardment continues. His name escapes your mouth between your humored twittering. He has you pinned between himself and a wall - you are quite literally trapped - and in front of the public no less.

He wasn’t ashamed of you.

It’s almost a reaction what happens next.

Your hands lock themselves around his neck, mouth pressing against his full lips for the very first time. The people surrounding you disappear, the noise of the busy street vanishing completely. You’d expected your first kiss with him to be serious, maybe even a little awkward with graceless fumbling. But the two of you are snickering against one another, the embrace as natural as breathing. He’s cupping your cheek with the caution he’d shown this morning; he must’ve been terrified you’d crumble beneath him.

You felt like you could.

He’s holding back, and you know this because his lips are soft and slow as a wounded butterfly with clipped wing. The hand that isn’t holding your cheek has pulled you in by the hips. It’s getting harder to breathe, even if it’s closed mouthed. He spoke and the world spun - but his lips make the world sing.

You’re the first to pull away, eyes fluttering open with an uncontrollable eagerness to perceive his countenance. What you expected, you can’t remember, because when you find his eyes still closed, relishing in the kiss with a full-bodied smile, you feel nauseous with excitement. It was almost too much.

Yet not enough at all.

The napkin around your ice cream cone is soaked, but you crumble it in a ball and bring it to Din’s face anyway. You pat against his cheek, wiping away as much of the ice cream as you could while he recovers. Some of it has collected on his dense mustache and you resist the urge to laugh at that.

He nods to himself like he’s trying to get a grasp on what just happened, eyes opening with caution to gaze into yours. He looks tired, but the kind that was delicious; the kind that you look forward to remedying. You must’ve taken an energy from him.

You hope you did.

Because he took it all from you.

He lets out a breathy laugh and you place a thumb against his jaw to wipe some stray remnants from him. “I think I like ice cream now,” he jokes.

•••

The two of you manage to escape.

This is after Rhea and Charlotte come bouncing out of the store, bags in hand, and giddy smiles upon their faces. You laugh with them as they show you their purchases while Din looks on from the sidelines, knee bouncing with alacrity.

You’re weak by the kiss, the blush from your cheeks still prominent. You were positive your sisters would notice, that tonight they’d drill you with questions they already knew the answer to. Women have a way of knowing when another woman has been kissed as zealously as you just had. It wasn’t just the pink in your face that would give you away; it was the dreamy glint in your eyes, the bit of Superman that you’d missed upon Din’s cheek, and the trembling of each item they forced in your hands.

You say your goodbyes to your sisters, promising you’d be home in time for movie night, and skip alongside Din while walking to Bessie. When he’s sure the two of you are in the clear, he takes your hand and massages the space between your thumb and forefinger. Tension subsides in your shoulders.

This was new to you. You’d kissed guys as a teenager; even had a few boyfriends here or there. But that’d been years ago and none of them alighted a fire in your belly like Din has. His company was ethereal - he was made of stardust; you were sure of it. And it seemed silly - even a little frightening - that your feelings have evolved so quickly. For hells sake, you’d just met him a few days ago. Could you really be just, well, stupid? And maybe he was feeding off that stupidity for his own personal gain?

This thought alone makes you feel guilty. You try to ignore the anxiety and focus on the feel of his hand, tanned and masculine, and breathe. The smell of fried dough wafts from down the boardwalk, the tune of an old carnival song muffled in the distance by the chaos of summer. The sun was still high in the sky; it was only five in the afternoon but your body felt as though it’d been up for an entire day, weak with the intensity from such a rush of adrenaline.

Upon arriving to the car, Din opens the door for you and a bit of paint from devoted Bessie showers upon the pavement. You can’t help but wonder if he knew you’d leave early with him and the idea of bringing two separate vehicles was clouded with hidden agenda. This, of course, starts up the cycle of mental dramatization again.

Gods, why can’t you just leave it alone? Why can’t you feel something for once in your life? You’ve spent so many years hiding in the corner in fear of getting hurt – of opening yourself to be exposed to new and terminal wounds even if the process was liberating. And Din was liberating in more ways than one; in ways that have surprised you, despite how little you’ve known him.

As soon as he climbs in, you scooch as close as possible to his side. Your bravery surprises yourself, but you wouldn’t overthink it, especially when he smiles cheekily your way. You’ve leaned your head against his shoulder just before reaching for his free hand again and placing it in your lap with a tight grip.

You may get hurt later. But for now, that pain was worth experiencing. Din Djarin already seems to be worthy of experiencing.

Bessie rumbles to life but he starts for the crown of your head first, lips brushing against you, and light as a feather.

•••

If Din hadn’t been such an experienced driver, he was sure he would’ve crashed by now.

No. He was positive he would’ve crashed. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on the plainness of the road when a goddess was sitting in the seat beside him, holding his hand, and gazing out into the fields you rush past. You exuberantly point out each time there was a farm where cattle and horses grazed, their tails flicking to shoo away flies. He realizes that you love cows (“especially the brown ones,” you had smiled) and makes a mental note of it.

The house is in view now, the strawberries blooming the land with color beneath their plants’ emerald leaves. Your sisters hadn’t beat you there and your father’s truck wasn’t parked in front like it normally was. Not that it would’ve mattered that his friend was home, but Din preferred your father find out…later; when Din felt confident in your feelings for him and you felt confident in his. You were too important to risk losing so soon or even at all.

And that terrifies him.

And just when Din’s about to turn onto the road that leads directly to the house, you gasp beside him.

It frightens him. He isn’t well acquainted with your exclamations yet, so it was hard to distinguish whether your outburst is harmless or exclaimed in the face of danger. He pauses, foot stepping on the brake pedal, and lunges Bessie forward with too much exertion. Upon instinct, he reaches out an arm to prevent you from slamming yourself against the dashboard by the sudden halt.

He immediately looks to you, brows furrowed in concern, and chest heaving with epinephrine. “What is it?!” he jolts out.

You’re staring into the nearby woods with narrowed eyes, silent as a bug. The thicket and vines wrap themselves around one another, graceful in their disorganized summer. Din couldn’t find any movement interrupting the overgrowth, but he had a suspicion you’ve seen an animal of some kind. What else could have caused you to gasp so randomly?

Something pretty incredible, apparently. Because just as Din’s about to repeat himself, far more concerned with your silence than anything, you swing open the rusted door and sprint into the woods.

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