#makes blackberries seem like a walk in the park

[courtingchaos]

Blackberry + Smash

Pairing: Thirty something line cook!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: You and the line cook from next door have been flirting for too long.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This started as something else, and ended up being a thing I put together for @newlips milestone of love! It's only in two parts because I'm incapable of writing anything within reason! Also I didn’t mention more than once I think, but Eddie and reader are 32 because I’m tired of pretending to be 20 again 🙃 (18+ NSFW etc. etc.)

“Eddie’s here!” One of the girls titters over the headset and you roll your eyes when you hear the chorus line out front. 

“Hi Eddie!” All singsong and sweet at him; he answers like Charlie to his Angels. 

“Hi baristas!”

It’s become rote at this point, his near daily appearance at 2pm, big smile plastered on his face when the bell rings overhead. He’s dressed for work, black t-shirt with ‘Stacy’s Tap House’ in large white letters across his back, black jeans and…crocs?

“Crocs dude?” You’ve moseyed out to the front register to greet him and notice his lack of steel toes. 

“What? You don’t like ‘em?” He lifts one leg up behind himself like a princess and dips his head into his shoulder to bat his lashes at you. “You wear them.”

“I don’t work with hot oil.” 

“Eh, I broke my laces and I’m lazy. Haven’t gone to the store yet.” He waves a hand at you while you type in his drink. It’s a truly atrocious thing with 14 pumps of syrup and 6 long shots and heavy cream. You give him shit every single time. You sneer playfully at him when he taps his phone against the reader. He follows you all the way down the line, mirroring your wrinkled nose. 

“What are you up to today?” You’re queuing up shots and pumping syrups and you catch him eyeing you over the glass. He crosses his arms over the top of the partition to lean forward and if he wasn’t Eddie, you’d ‘accidentally’ splash him with the rinser. 

“Oh you know, making some sandwiches, taking out some trash, selling hardcore drugs in the walk-in. Typical Wednesday.” He shrugs, bobs his head and keeps his eyes on you. You can feel it even while you have your head down, wiping the counter in front of you. You let out a little laugh and that seems to satisfy him. Looks back over his shoulder to the parking lot out front for a few seconds. You take the opportunity to stare at the long column of his neck, bared to you where his hair is pulled back into a bun. The tendon straining from the angle of his head. You could make real quick work of that pale skin, litter it with red and purple. 

“Is Jeff working today?”

“He’s in later, why?”

“Wanna bring him his americano?”

“Eh, sure.” He starts to turn back towards the register and you flap your free hand at him. 

“I got it, don’t worry.”

“You keep giving me free shit, they’re not gonna keep you around much longer.” There’s that smile again, the dimples that keep you up at night. What a bastard. 

“You think after 8 years they’re just gonna fire me? I’ll burn this store down first.” Smirking you hand him both drinks and throw two straws at him. His big hand slaps at his chest and he gasps, looking behind you to grab the other baristas attention. 

“Caitlyn did you see that? Is Andrew here? I need to speak to a manager!” 

Caitlyn just giggles at him, like you all do, and throws another handful at him. He snatches them all up off the counter top and the few that hit the floor to clutch in his fist. 

“These are mine now!” He’s backing up toward the door and nodding at the line who are all pretending to wave hankies at him. 

“Hey, Eddie? You make me sick, don’t come back in here tonight.” The smile is clear in your voice even if you are squinting meanly at him. He pauses for a second to wiggle his eyebrows at you. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” His laugh follows him outside and you watch him jog to his green pickup. 

“Every time he comes in here he stares at you.” Caitlyn is still there hovering at your shoulder, watching you watch Eddie, and you can hear her smirking behind you. 

“Oh you don’t say?”

Hey chickadee. 

What’s up buttercup?

You’re closing, right?

Of course, what the fuck else do I do around here?

G a w d d a m n

What?????

Don’t gotta jump up my ass about it I was just trying to be a ~gentleman~ and see if you wanna hang later. 

Oh! Sure, I’ll check with Cate. 

 Jeff will have a shit fit. 

The restaurant closes at 10, your cafe at 9, so it gives you and Cate roughly an hour to race back to your apartment and change. You refuse to go out smelling like coffee and milk, even if Eddie tells you he likes the smell that lingers on your pullover. Weirdo. 

You’ve been digging around for ten minutes looking for your good pair of jeans, only to find them in the hamper. Still dirty from the weekend before where you’d gotten a little too rowdy and dropped a drink down the front of you. 

Plan B it is. Dress, tights, jacket. All black of course, why would you buy anything else? 

“Nah nah nah, I’m not third wheeling am I?” Cate asks when you walk into the living room twisting on your rings. 

“What? No. My jeans are dirty and this is like, the only other non work thing I have clean.” You’re a little defensive, sure. She didn’t need to point out the obvious so clearly now did she? Cate’s eyebrow starts to raise and your hand comes up, a loud ‘acht!’ falling out of your mouth. 

“It’s not a date! It’s just drinks. Like normal.” This isn’t new, you two going out with the kitchen staff at Stacey’s. It’s always been a little quid pro quo between the businesses and everyone is familiar with each other. They get free drinks more often than not, and you guys get free food (and also everyone gets to ogle Eddie). 

“I don’t know why you haven’t just asked him out yet.” Cate’s not wrong. However, “I’m having fun with it. Also maybe I’m waiting on him to ask me.” You shrug at her. 

The bar you all frequent is just down the street from the restaurant, small and a little loud it’s the best spot mainly because all the cooks know all the bartenders. 

Shots go down easier when they’re free. 

You’re off tomorrow, and Cate drove, but you’re still trying to keep it easy tonight. Didn’t need a repeat of last weekends adventure. 

This isn’t a date, like it always isn’t a date, but everyone knows. You two have been flirting for a few months now and it isn’t like you don’t know if he’s into you or not. You just like the chase on 

this one. He’s witty, funny, a complete asshole on occasion, and incredibly disgustingly hot. You’d told him about as much one night, everyone drunk in the parking lot trying to order an Uber home and he’d just flashed that toothy grin at you like he knew. 

“Has anyone told you how stupidly handsome you are?”

“Stupidly? No.”

“Well you are. Stupidly, for sure, but also handsome.”

“Hey.” He taps your shoulder with your drink, his insistence that he buy. 

“Hey yourself.” You grab the glass and smile up at him. Even after a full shift of sweating over grills he’s pretty, hair pulled down from his bun, loose curls around his shoulders. 

“How was work?”

“Other than the customers, it was fine.” You flash a fake smile and take a sip out of the tiny straw. Jameson and ginger ale. He remembered. A drink order shouldn’t make your heart beat faster but it does. Is the bar so low that you’d give it up for the simple act of remembering your drink?

When Eddie drops down into the seat beside you, his hand falls to your knee and gives it squeeze before taking it away to check his phone. 

No, the bar isn’t low, not for Eddie. But the drink is one of many things that makes you want to take him out to his truck and end this dance you two have been waltzing. 

All the times he’s obviously thinking of you you. Dropping off food and boba and cookies from that really nice bakery on his block. All the memes he sends you on his smoke breaks. The nicknames. It’s just been building really, ready to burst like an especially ripe blackberry. 

Oh it’ll be sweet. 

“What are you up to next weekend?”

“Well, I don’t know about Cate, but-“

“I didn’t ask about Cate.” He looks up from his phone, lays it face down on the sticky table top. Out of the corner of your eye you can tell Cate heard her name. As soon as she looks over at you two she’s facing back to Jeff to share a look with him. 

“O-kay. I was going to say I’m off actually. I have a wedding to go to on Sunday. Why?” 

“Is it in town?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be busy like, getting ready for it. I have to get my nails done on Friday. Why?” You lean towards him and push his own drink with your index finger. Anything to push a button. He watches you tease him, eyes dark in the dim lighting, and he reaches over again to tap his middle finger on your crossed knee. He delights in the way your eyes immediately snap to his hand to watch it. 

“Wanna grab lunch on Friday?”

“Aren’t you working?”

“Nope. Rare day off.”

Still watching his finger tap tap tapping away you realize you’re finally getting your wish. 

“Are you asking me out?” A bomb could go off next to you two you’re sure neither would flinch. His eyes on your eyes on his hand. He stops moving, clears his throat to get you to look at him. 

“And what if I am? You aren’t tired of making eyes at me in your lobby every day?” He breaks the tension and makes you laugh. 

“Oh me making eyes? Munson you’re a hypocrite and a liar!” You bicker at him while he scoots his chair close, leaned fully into your space to make big cow eyes at you. Calls you out on your bullshit some more. Gets you a few more drinks and before you know it the bartender is last calling all of you pointedly. 

Outside is cold but you’re buttered up with enough whiskey and Eddie’s giggles to keep your cheeks flush and warm. Everyone is milling around their cars and you’re just trailing along behind Eddie. You follow him to his truck, not intending on getting in. You’re still going home to your own apartment, your own empty bed, as sad as that makes you. 

That blackberry isn’t ready for picking yet, it would seem. 

“So Friday?”

“My appointment is at 11. We can meet after?”

“I can pick you up.” Hopping up into his driver seat he says that over his shoulder while he leans into the cab to shuffle through his glove box. 

“You don’t have to.” You swat his knee, a little admonishment. It might be a first date, but this isn’t either of your first go arounds. He doesn’t need to be chivalrous here. He sits up with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. 

“Will you just let me pick you up? Jesus.” Huffs around it while he tries to light it. You take the lighter from him and strike it only to hold it just out of reach. He leans forward and you pull your hand back a little, a smirk and a giggle on your lips. A pause and he grabs your fist and pulls it back towards himself, sucks in until the cherry lights and you can see it reflected in his shining eyes. 

Maybe you will climb into the truck, blackberries are your favorite no matter what season. 

Eddie sees you sway forward and as much as he wants to let you lean in between his knees you’re just south of tipsy. He doesn’t want either of you to regret anything. Instead he holds out his palm, gesturing for his lighter. You drop it, still leaning forward and a new glint in your eye. He takes a deep breath and swings his legs inside and grabs his door to close it. Doesn’t miss the look of hurt on your face. 

“Friday.” He says with a smile. 

“Friday.” You back up enough for him to close his door, spinning on your heel to make towards Cate’s car but you stop and spin back. He rolls his window down, eyebrows raised. 

“Can I ask you something?” You lean heavy on the doorframe. He takes a drag and nods at you. 

“Do you actually sell drugs in the walk in?” 

He actually full on laughs, wasn’t expecting that question. 

“Sometimes, yeah.” His wrist is loose on the top of his steering wheel, sodium lights glinting off his ring. Absentmindedly ashes his cigarette on the dash. 

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Eddie, this is Indiana. You aren’t the first drug dealer I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, but am I the first one you’ve had a crush on?” Smugness oozes out the window and you reel back, slap your hand against your chest in mock shock. 

“I’m sorry, I have a crush?! Have you met you?” 

“Oh I’m well aware of how I feel. Are you?” God, he’s feeling confident tonight. It’s only been months in the making. 

That itty bitty taunt brings you back in, hands still gripping his door. He watches your tongue poke out and swipe against your bottom lip, the little gem in your medusa piercing catches the light. 

Oh fuck it. 

He meets you halfway, soft lips warm against his own. You taste like whiskey and sugar and that last lime slice you ate while he paid the bill. He feels your hands snake up around his collar to hold, pulling him closer and it takes every single ounce of his willpower to not pull you in through the window. 

Off in the distance he vaguely hears Cate and Jeff and the rest of the bastards you’ve all been out with whistling and slapping car roofs. 

Both of you smiling breaks the kiss but your still in his face and hanging on to his jacket. 

“They’re so loud.” You whisper and he wants to chase it back into you. 

“I’ll kill Jeff later.”

“Oh don’t do that, he has such an easy drink to make.” There’s that laugh, the one that almost twinkles. Eddie wants to kick himself, he��s so far gone. Your fingers loosen, letting him lean back into the cab. He’s thankful for his long hair where it hides his growing blush along his neck. Finally you walk backwards a few steps, definitely heading toward your ride home now. 

“Friday. 10 o’clock?” Cements his plans. Nothing short of a black hole could tear these out of his hands. 

You nod about 20 times and watch him back up and then out of the parking lot, the cheer of everyone following his tail lights.

You nod about 20 times and watch him back up and then out of the parking lot, the cheer of everyone following his tail lights.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Here is the second part of my Throwing Down the Gauntlet stuff. Series? Idk. Anyway, if you're here for the smut, hold tight. We'll get there.

C/W ::: Angst, broken heart f!reader, language. I think that's it. I read this 243983489 times. But it's like, when you see the words but they don't really absorb into your brain? It was like that. So if I missed anything awful, lemme know, please! Hope you guys like Part II. Thanks!

WC ::: Just under 1,120

Part I ___ Part III ___ Part IV ___ Part V ___ Part VI ___ Part VII

PART II

On the way to the coffee shop across town, you thought about how going there is only a delicacy now. It used to be that you'd grab something several days a week on your way to work when you lived here. On weekends you and Kats would walk over there and get something if you fell asleep the night before without thinking - or caring - to set up the coffee.

Nights like that you'd drift off tangled up in each other's limbs. Coffee was the last thing on your mind. You had to smile a little bit at how coffee-centric your lives were. But the ease of the warm memory faded the closer you got to your old neighborhood.

Everywhere you looked held some story the two of you shared inside the life you built.

The park down the street was where you had your first picnic date.

The corner store was where he bought you your favorite candy on Valentine's Day because he wasn't able to get you anything else. He had to work that day and everything was closed by the time he got off. You still have the wrapper from that. Stuck away in a shoebox that holds so many other perfect moments that you'd successfully frozen in time.

The little deli you two had brunch at often for the past 2 years was where he handed you a little black velvet box with the key to his place inside of it. It was a Sunday that he asked you to move in. You said yes immediately and sat on his lap to kiss his smiling lips. You remember the taste of sugar-rimmed blackberry mint mimosa on his tongue as it slipped past your smiling lips.

You drove past all of that and pulled up to his building. He still hasn't changed his code to get into the lobby. You wondered if he ever would. If he would trust you to hold onto that ridiculous secret.

His apartment was on the 5th floor. The elevator ride up was agonizingly slow. There was a part of you that hoped it would just plummet to the basement/storage level. You got so lost in your little fantasy of being taken out of your misery that when it did stop, your heart leapt up into your throat and your hands reached out for anything to find safety on. But there was nothing. There was no one.

The elevator door opened and you fantasized him standing there holding his cell, scrolling through old pictures of the both of you. And suddenly he looks up and sees you there in his clothes. He falls at your feet and begs you for a second chance. To please give 'you' another chance. As if each of your souls belonged to the other and it was just the merged one from the moment the first 'I love you' had been confessed.

Walking up to his front door, you felt your body tense up. Like it was protecting you from what you were about to walk into. Your hand reached out for the doorknob, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn it. It was like everything stopped. Like something was waiting for you to come to a decision that you had no intention of making. Especially by yourself.

You sighed, pushed it open and pulled out the key. You took a deep breath in and looked around, tapping the little piece of metal that weighed more in your hand than every sorrow you'd ever endured.

Everything seemed to be exactly the same as you left it. The throw pillows he let you put on the oversized couch were still fluffed against the armrests. 

The ficus stood tall and healthy in the corner you both agreed on. "They get pissy if you move them around too much. We’ll have to pick one spot and leave it there." You told him.

“So it's basically a tree version of you?" He retorted, without a moment's hesitation. 

Tears began to pool in your lash line. You thought about all of this; being here. The time that you're here now, alone, felt a lot like it was your day off and he would be home anytime between 6 and 6:15.

He'd come through the door and call for you to come kiss him hello. These memories were slowly making you crash in on yourself. It hurt so much that your time here was now finite.

The bedroom was the last room you went into. It was the last room you wanted to go into. You didn't want to see your side of the bed empty. Worse yet, you didn't want to see his side of the bed - period. It somehow hurt more to know that his side would be filled when he got home. But yours would - "Oh god, oh fuck."

You started to breathe heavily. Dare you say it, you were close to hyperventilating. The thought of someone else laying on your side of the bed brought everything to a screeching halt. You couldn't take a step forward or backward. Your feet were locked into place on the floor. The rug had become a huge piece of Velcro and the soles of your feet were the other half to the grabby, scratchy loops.

Deep down, you knew that the only way to get over this was to face it. So, you did. You walked up to your side of the bed, and stared down at it. It was some fucked up form of exposure therapy if you’d ever seen one. Staring down at the place you'd slept for the last 3 years of your life, you tried to stay composed.

But as you sat down and pulled out your phone, you couldn't hold back the tears - again. They came pouring down your cheeks, soaking your clothes as they fell to your knees. You dialed 9 of the 10 numbers needed to reach him and waited for your better judgment to kick in before you made the mistake of pressing the last digit.

"Any ... time, y/n. Don't … don't do it. Calling him isn't going to fix anything. He told you to get your shit and go. Leave the ke- the key." Your words were coming out as shaky as your breathing was.

You opened your hand and saw just how tightly you'd been squeezing the key. It was symbolic how the shape of it was almost a part of your flesh. The shape was a part of you now, if only for a little while. If you put it down, it would disappear. You'd no longer know that comfort of having immediate access to the one place you actually felt you belonged.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl

[eddiesgorlie]

He’s So Lana Pt.2

Read part one here!

Warnings: None!

Word count: 2.7k

Comment to be tagged in Pt.3! Follow me on Tiktok @Epresleyforprexy

The clock ticked so slowly as I waited to close the shop. I read and reread Austins text a million times and it never failed to make me smile and butterflies swarm my tummy. Just those simple words “Dinner at my place at eight?” I kept running it through my head and counting down the seconds. The clock ticked six and I closed the shop in record time, forgetting about sweeping and shutting the computer down. I tossed my bag into the passenger seat of my VW bug and jumped in the front seat, the radio blaring The Beatles as soon as I turned the key.

I didn’t make it home until 6:30 and after calculating, Austins house was a 30 minute drive with traffic so I only had an hour. I only had an hour to pick out an outfit and do my makeup and hair. I quickly ran to my closet and after what seemed to be throwing every single article of clothing on my floor I decided on my all time favorite, holy grail vintage clothing piece, my 70’s Gunne Sax white v-neck midi dress. It had beautiful little purple lavender flowers on it, crystal buttons and lace straps and I matched it with a purple cardigan. I decided to do my hair and makeup first to protect the dress from any possible makeup spills.

I put my hair up in a very loose high ponytail and just put on light pink eyeshadow, mascara and a wine colored lipstick. I looked at the clock to see I had 10 minutes until I had to leave so I quickly took the dress out of its garment bag and pulled it on, matching it with purple Candies heels. I had just enough time to grab a basket and run out to my garden to put together a harvest basket for him. Mom always told me to never show up to a hosts home empty handed.

I put a couple oranges and apples in the basket and a tomato. I clipped some flowers and herbs and added them to the basket and went back inside. I grabbed a jar of blackberry jam and a jar of wine mustard I made the other day. I finished it off by wrapping a fresh loaf of zucchini bread in a cloth and laying it in the basket.

I grabbed my patchwork purse and the basket and ran out of the door. Quickly running back in once I realized I forgot my keys… and to lock the door.

I was incredibly nervous the entire drive. Would he not like my outfit? Or my car? Or not like me? He had only met me for a short time while I was working but what if really getting to know me scared him away like many before him. Dates always had me nervous after my last boyfriend. He was a gentleman and so nice during the first few months but after a while, he became cruel and violent. I have the scars to prove it.

My GPS told me to take a right which a came to a complete stop as I looked at the road to my right. It was gravel and wooded all around. I sighed and hoped the gravel wouldn’t destroy my 1967 VW. I drove slowly and continued to monitor my GPS when it told me the destination was on my left. I didn’t see anything so I drove a little further until a large farmhouse came into view. I parked, grabbed the basket and my purse and walked up to the door, knocking twice before stepping back.

I heard some movement in the house and could see a figure through the stained glass window. The door opened and there he was, wearing a blue apron over his dark jeans and blue denim-like long sleeve button up. “Hi.” I said. “Hey, come on in.” He smiled. I nodded and walked in the house. “Here you go. Thank you for inviting me over.” I smiled, handing him the basket. “Oh of course. You didn’t have to bring anything.” He said, moving somethings around to look at all the items in the basket. “My mom always told me to never arrive at someone’s home empty handed. And its just some things from my garden or made from things from my garden.” I smiled. “I’ve never gotten something this thoughtful.” He smiled. “I hope you like everything.” I said. “I know I will. Come on in, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost done.” He said. I followed him into the kitchen and sat at one of the barstools and watched him cook.

“I have never been on a date with a guy that can cook.” I smiled. “Really? I think more people should try to learn to cook, I really enjoy it.” He said. “I’m definitely more of a baker than chef but I know enough to survive.” I laughed. “Baking is an entire new territory I am yet to conquer.” He said. “What’s your favorite thing to cook?” I asked. “Well, my comfort food is just a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I really enjoy making sourdough grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup.” He said. “Is that what you’re making now?” I asked. “Yeah, is that alright? I didn’t realize how low I was on ingredients until I started cooking.” He laughed. “That sounds wonderful.” I smiled.

He grabbed some cream from the fridge and added it to the soup. “I told you about my family, I’d love to hear about yours.” I said. “Well, I have an older sister, she moved states a couple of years ago and my dad still lives here.” He said. “Have you always lived here in California?” I asked. “Yep, I lived in New York for a little while I was on broadway but I missed this place more than anything.” He said. “So a Cali boy through and through. Do you surf?” I asked. “I tried a couple times but was never successful. I want to try again sometime.” He said. “It’s a lot of fun. My dad taught me.” I said. “I have an extra board, if you want I can take you out sometime and teach you! Its like riding a bike.” I smiled. “I’d really like that.” He said. “You’re going to love it. Maybe one of the times, I can bring my dad so you can learn from the master himself. He hasn’t been out on the water since mom passed so I think it’d be great for him.” I said. “Sorry, that was weird.” I said with a nervous laugh. “No, I think that would be a really great time.” He smiled.

I nodded. After that there was an awkward pause. Damnit, I blew it. I got too comfortable and blew it. “When did you lose your mom?” He asked quietly. “When I was 24, so almost 3 years ago.” I said. He nodded. “When did you lose yours?” I asked. He looked up with a confused and sad look. “How’d you know?” He asked. “I can just tell, there’s apart of you thats lost, searching for something.” I said. “I was 23.” He said. I could tell they were close and that it was a fragile subject for him. “Look at us, two half orphans.” I said, reaching over the counter and stroking his hand.

He took the grilled cheese off of the stove and put them on plates and grabbed bowls for the soup. “Do you have pets?” I asked. “I don’t. I really want a dog though.” He said. “Do you like cats?” I asked. “You know, I’ve never had a pet cat before.” He said. “I have cats. They are the lights of my life.” I laughed. “Cats.. plural?” He laughed. “Yep. I have well um…” I sighed. “2?” He asked. I shook my head. “4?” He asked. “5?” I shook my head. “Oh my. 6?” He laughed. “Close enough. 6 are mine and one just lives with me.” I laughed. “Tell me, how’d you get all of these cats?” He asked. “Well, I found Moe, Larry and Curly on the side of the highway in a bag when they were kittens, Lieutenant Dan showed up in my backyard and he was missing his front paws, Moe ended up being a girl and two kittens, Mercury and Styles and the one that lives with me was my moms cat, she’s a Maine coon named Zeus and weighs 25 pounds.” I said, holding back my laughter. “Oh my, thats a lot of cats.” He said, joining in on my laughter. “I’ll have to meet these cats. But first, is that a cat scratch on your arm?” He asked, referring to the vertical scar on my wrist. “Oh no no, they aren’t aggressive!” I reassured. He smiled.

He spooned the soup into two bowls and put the grilled cheese’s on plates. He grabbed silverware and napkins and set a bowl in front of me, the other on the placemat next to me. “So how’d you get into the record business?” He asked as he sat next to me. “So my parents had a college fund set aside for me, it was enough to go to any school I wanted and get any degree I wanted but of course, me being me, I took all the money and bought the building that is now Lucy In The Sky. My parents of course weren’t to happy about that and thought it’d would be better if I moved out so I moved in with my boyfriend at the time, he was horrible so that pushed me to spend most of my time working on remodeling the shop and hunting for cheap records to buy to get started. It was a journey but now somehow I am the owner of the most successful used record store in California.” I laughed. “That’s amazing. Did your parents ever get over it?” He asked. “I don’t think completely but we became closer again a couple years ago. I think my dad is proud now.” I said. “He should be. You built that all yourself.” He said. “With his money.” I laughed. “But if you didn’t put the work it, money or no money it wouldn’t have mattered.” He said. “I guess you have a point.” I smiled. I dipped the grilled cheese in the soup and took a bite. “Holy shit, that’s amazing.” I said, covering my mouth as I ate. “I’m glad you like it.” Austin said. “Like it? Like it?? This is like death row final meal choice quality!” I said, taking another bite. “Oh it gets better each bite.” I said.

“Tell me, what’d you think of Lana?” I asked. “I honestly don’t know how I’ve gone this long without listening to her.” He said. “Favorite song on the album?” I asked. “Born to die and National Anthem had really nice feels to them but Video Games was an out of body experience.” He said. “That is literally the only way to describe Video Games. That song got me through a lot.” I smiled. “I can tell her music means a lot to you.” He said. “It really does. In the entire shop, she is the only artist we sell new vinyl of.” I said. “I can see why. Her music is lovely. It draws you in like a siren’s song.” He said. “You have a way with words, Austin. Do you write?” I asked. “Thank you. I try to journal everyday but I’ve never written anything serious before.” He said. “You really should. You have the words of a poet.” I said. “Do you write?” He asked. “Yeah, its the only way I can express myself when I’ve feeling stressed or sad, or even happy.” I said. “Thats so beautiful.” He smiled.

We spent the next half hour talking about his upcoming Elvis role along with many other things. “How about we go in the living room and listen to some music?” He asked. “I’d love to but at least let me help with the dishes first.” I said. “Nope, I simply can not allow such a beautiful woman help clean up.” He smiled as he held his hand out. I blushed as I grabbed his hand and we walked into the living room. “Oh no way you have a Rega!” I squealed as I took in his record player and stereo system. “Is that a good one? I picked it up at a place downtown. Your shop doesn’t have record players, right?” He asked. “Its a great one, I’d definitely own one if I could afford it. I’m more of an audio technica gal. And nope, we don’t. Not enough profit.” I said. “Gotcha.” He said. “Do you mind if I?” I asked. “Not at all, go crazy.” He said.

I got down on my knees and turned the receiver on and picked up a record from his shelf. I grabbed Abbey Road. “A classic.” He smiled. “Yes it is.” I said as placed it on the turntable and placed the tone arm down on She Came In Through The Bathroom Window. I let my body flow and move to the music, smiling at Austin as I turned. I reached my hand out to him. “I’m not much of a dancer.” He laughed. “Well we better fix that, soon to be Mr. Presley.” I said as I pulled him up.

I guided him in the movements through the rest of the song. We laughed as he spun me and I came crashing into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his torso as we rocked back and fourth. People would say we honestly looked insane if they say us. I was just happy.

We sat down on the couch as Golden Slumbers came on and I sat down next to him, a slight distance between us as I closed my eyes swayed. “Sleep pretty darlin’ do not cry.” I mouthed. “My mom sang this to me as a lullaby.” I smiled. “Thats beautiful.” He said. I watched as he pretended to yawn and then laid his arm over my shoulders. I leaned into him a little as I tried not to laugh. “That was so lame.” I giggled. “It really was. That was my go to move as a teenager.” He said laughing. I comfortably laid on his chest until the end of the album. “Lets see what else ya’ got.” I smiled as I stood up and went back over to his albums. I put Abbey road back into its sleeve and put it away. “Got any Pink Floyd?” I asked. “I don’t think so.” He said. “Darn, you have a great collection beside the missing Floyd.” I said. “I’d love to see your collection sometime.” He said. “You’ve seen it.” I said. “Hm?” He asked. “The store is my collection. If I have something I want to listen to, I grab it from the store and then put it back on sale.” I said. “That’s actually really smart.” He smiled. “I know, right?” I laughed.

I pulled a record from the shelf and set it on the turntable. The sounds of Lana Del Rey’s Video Games came over the speakers. I sat back down next to him and leaned on his shoulder. I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and lips parted as he listened to the song. “She’s ethereal, isn’t she.” I smiled. “I think you’re ethereal.” He said, looking down at me. I blinked for a moment as I took in his words. I sat up, my legs straddling his. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. I looked down as I blushed. His hand came up and lifted my chin to look at him. “Don’t get shy on me.” He said. He pushed my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. My heart took over as I flew forward and placed a heavy kiss on his lips. His hands buried in my hair and pulled me impossibly closer as my heart felt as though it was beating out of my chest. His thumb brushed against my bottom lip once I pulled away. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled. “Not bad yourself.” I smiled.

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[slowdive1994]

💌 DANDYYYY HELLO i just wanted to say that you are amazing and funny and incredibly kind and you deserve soooo much happiness and love (and you seem like you would also be an amazing person to go for walks in the park and have picnics with)

AHHH HIII LUC! agdgsgsgs thank you youre so very sweet <333 omg i would love to go for a walk and have a picnic in the park with youuuu i'd make my famous blackberry lemonade!

[the-demons-delight]

He hands you his towel to dab at your face, and even smooths down your hair for you while you reset your to make it seem as if you’ve been waiting on them to arrive.

Well, something certainly smells delicious. Satan’s first through the door, brandishing a smile that gives off the air of success as he looks at you. Had a feeling you’d pull it off just fine.

Pfft!! Mammon’s quick to follow behind, Oh please! You were a nervous wreck until twenty seconds ago!

Satan blushes a deep pink and averts his eyes from you to scold Mammon for telling lies.

Meanwhile, Lucifer lets himself inside and walks over to where you and Beel stand, offering his hand to you once more. Very well done, he surveys the plates you’ve laid out, and seems pleased. Looks like you were certainly up for the challenge after all.

I couldn’t be more thankful for the little bit of extra time Beel takes to help me look presentable. I even consider throwing my arms around him for a hug that is until I hear Satan and Mammons voices so clearly, coming into the room.

I greet all of them with warm smiles, trying to act calm and collected, like their was a walk in the park as I shake Lucifer’s hand again.

It was certainly a challenge! But, I think you’ll be happy with what I have for you:

I decide to start with what would be brand new and only for their establishment. This is a red velvet molten lava cake with a raspberry center, and warm fudge topped with spun sugar.

The next two are a chocolate ganache tart with blackberries, as well as, a cinnamon apple crumble cake.

And before I get to the final plate of fluffy treats, I glance to Beel with a small smile since I know this tends to be a favorite. And last are Paczki with butterscotch custard filling. I put out a small jar of warm caramel sauce. You don’t need to add the caramel but, I think it really ties the whole thing together.

I hope you all enjoy.

[goodtimesyana]

in an attempt to manage my codependency somebody suggested that i make a list of energy muses which is a weirdly derivative and euphemistic way of saying i should make a list of people who i admire and respect but there's nobody i admire or respect so much as seventeen year old yana. i think seventeen was the perfect age for me, because i was young and brilliant, and my youthfulness complimented my brilliance and maturity in a way that was very becoming, i was a virgin girl and i lived with a specific set of romantic delusions where i was convinced that the graduate students and professors i spent the summer doing a writing intensive with all wanted to have sex with me. in retrospect yeah, im sure they did.

seventeen year old yana was the coolest person ever. especially that summer, between writing intensives at a tiny liberal arts college in the appalachian foothills, august reading brautigan on my uncle's boat and listening to the magnetic fields, sneaking white wine and smoking backwoods in the park with my friends. i was writing conservatively five hundred words a day about blackberries and salad greens and most importantly my virginity.

when it comes down to it i really cant shake the feeling that my chastity and precociousness is what made me special, but those aren't the sort of things you can meaningfully bring with you into adulthood without being a little bit insufferable. it's one thing to be seventeen and have a singular voice and to be really bitter about boys not wanting to date you, entirely something else to feel a weird disdain for and dread about sexual competition in your mid-twenties. no longer chic to lie to boys and say i've had sex with seven other people and losing my virginity is really no big deal and that i'm not so interested in connection, i'm just looking to have fun and feel good and enjoy being desired. i guess they're all just pieces of the puzzle.

i'm still childishly fixated on the experience of losing my virginity because it was painful and frightening. i was so convinced that finally having sex was going to be the thing that made me feel grown-up and worthy and changed but it just hurt. it was a rich kid with black hair and he unclasped my bra in front of the window so all of his friends in the courtyard could see my breasts, and they hooted like monkeys, and the truth is that the humiliation was a little bit thrilling. the sex itself just hurt, i didn't want it, i cried and screamed the whole time and in the morning i had to take an emergency contraceptive that i bought with my birthday money. i kept seeing the guy until one night he dosed me with acid while we were laying in the courtyard, and i walked home in my plastic majorette boots sweating all over myself. i couldn't bring myself to consider that my feigned indifference about the whole thing was less about being young and hot and cool but more about lacking the courage to protect myself from what i thought i'd wanted.

so i'll say that sincerely, i've felt a little bit like i've lived in a fugue state since then, and i'll blame it on the hormones, but who knows. i think deep down it has more to do with censuring myself to appease difficult men because i don't know how else to affirm my womanhood. i didn't realize how good i had it and i wanted to live on a man's wall like a deer mount. when i looked at myself i looked with the eyes of a big dumb man, and all i could see was a woman who was deficient in something, sexual savvy.

there is an unimaginable difficulty in finding myself sufficient, but it seems like the most loving option. my life as an adult has become, without my realizing it, a love letter to a seventeen year old girl. i face her in the mirror when i get ready for work, and though she won't admit it, i can sense her quiet fascination with my life, and her pride. with a sense of smugness, she thinks- i'm going to go work the night shift, i'm going to go sling some cards, i'm going to go out drinking at a dive bar, and i'm going to sleep in my own apartment with art from the thrift store. i'm wearing the coolest jewelry anyone has ever seen and on my off days i do big giant paintings and make comics.

[ajoytobeheld]

Super 8 adventure + nearly being eaten

May 23rd, 2009

On my “Super 8″ adventure around the West Coast I have seen many bizarre and wonderful sites, (including Eureka, it was like the  ”Back To The Future Part 2″ version of Hill Valley.) The first thing which really struck my eye was the Portland “Zombie” ball which seemed a lovely way to celebrate your coming of age. Although the photo is not great because I was being sneaky, this function room was over spilling with blood spattered gore monsters all having a marvelous time…

I also stopped in Bend in Oregon where I had the nicest cocktail I have ever tasted which had something to do with Gin, Blackberry’s and a sprig of magic. I ventured into a Willy Wonka themed sweet shop which played songs from the film whilst showing it on a loop. I wait for the day where the headlines scream “Willy Wonka Shop Assistant Goes Insane and Punches Group of Tanned Small Women.” I also missed Alek so much that I stared longingly at her douple ganger mannequin in the window for about three hours.

I went to Crater Lake but danced about in snow first. Minutes after this was taken I fell over. 

The next day I danced about in the sea for a bit. Minutes after this was taken I was sucked in by the current and had a Bedknobs and Broomsticks style adventure.

I came across this lovely fellow on the way to Napa Valley, I believe his name is Paul Bunyan, and I don’t know what he did, but he has a really big axe and he hung out by the “Trees of Mystery,” near the “Hill of Confusion.” It seems to make a tourist attraction worthy it must have some element of puzzlement to it.

I tried some wines in Napa and due to the fact the wine serving expert man was shutting up for the day I was given a guided tour, AND loads more free wine. I was trying to pay attention as he talked about barrels, and fermenting and oaking the flavour but all I could think was “It’s not even 6 yet, and I am wasted!”

The wine headache and the regret followed, but I felt like I had sophisticated my pallet and was prepared for a evening of….camping.

Hours after this was taken I nearly got eaten by a Coyote.

I am not a massive camping fan, but my traveling companion promised me that this would be a lovely little outing, save money and really get me back to nature, coz apparently it has missed me?

Anyway the area was beautiful and the weather was calming, but I was unfortunately nursing a post tour cold so couldn’t really sleep…. about four in the morning I popped outside to have a wee, because I could not be bothered to walk to the toilets, and I heard a strange noise. I dismissed it, and got back into the tent to lie in a hot feverish daze, but then I heard a growl….

Yes, ladies and gentleman, a growl… not like a dog growl but like a beast from hell deep thundering growl. I awoke my companion to check I was not going insane, and we lay there trembling as the “thing” continued to growl four times more JUST OUTSIDE THE TENT. We had no idea about wildlife native to that area but lying in a pitch black little tent after days of “bear talk” with something you can’t see growling outside your brain immediately leaps to grizzly, wolf or Cerberus. My travelling companion used the car key alarm to make a beepy noise to startle it and I lay there wondering if I was about to get eaten. In all honesty I have never been so scared in my life, and my fight or flight thing kicked in, and all I wanted to do was run… but I was informed that was not sensible so I lay and shook for an hour before I made us ran to the car and sleep there the rest of the night. 

In the morning the Park Ranger said it was probably a Coyote.

I had obviously disturbed it when I got out the tent, so I shudder to think if I had looked around and seen this staring back at me. 

I am never camping again is the morale of that story. So I am happy to be in San Francisco, where there is Ameoba, The Stinking Rose, and no chance my imagination will run away and convince me there is a zombie Gryphon outside the tent waiting to much on my brains.

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: VIEW-MASTER LAND by Matt Bialer

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/view-master-land-by-matt-bialer/

The long poem VIEW-MASTER LAND is about the poet’s struggle to come to terms with the #loss of his wife Lenora and the profound changes to his life that her death has brought. It’s also about celebrating #companionship and #hope with his new #love, Mary. It’s about how technology like the BlackBerry, which seemed so wondrous when it was first introduced, is now defunct, a relic of the past. It’s about the act of seeing, and how that evolves and gains depth as we get older. Bialer shares his memories of the View-Master toy he grew up with and how magical it was to view his favorite childhood TV shows in three dimensions on a special-format stereoscope and corresponding “reels,” which are thin cardboard disks. There was even an attempt to bring the View-Master back in cutting-edge VR technology, but that too failed, underscoring its obsolescence. VIEW-MASTER LAND is about how our perception is enhanced as we go through #life, and how the most ordinary can become extraordinary.

Matt Bialer is the author of more than a dozen books of poetry, including MAZE (Finishing Line Press), ALWAYS SAY GOODNIGHT (KYSO Flash),ASCENT (JournalStone) and THE VALLEY OF THE EIGHT and THIRD EYE OF THE INNER LIGHT (Leaky Boot Press). His poems have appeared in many print and online journals. He lives in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

PRAISE FOR VIEW-MASTER LAND by Matt Bialer

The View-Master was this old gadget that allowed you to see iconic landscapes that had been printed on Kodachrome paper. You slipped that strip of photographs into a slot of those oversized glasses and were transported. Still-life virtual reality. Matt Bialer’s new epic poem View-Master Land is a walking and beautiful reality. The poem will break your heart and make you want to love the people in the world that you know, and the one’s you don’t know you might love, even more. This a love poem to seeing, to how we see, to loss, and new beginnings. It is a love poem to New York and to the wife he lost to cancer, Lenora, and to his new love, Mary. It is a poem about watching the connections, seeing the threads, between a ‘bygone era’ and the current reality. It is a poem that allows us to be in the past and the present at the same time. Through a glorious cadence and generosity of imagistic spirit, Matt Bialer’s View-Master Land will take your hand and your body and walk with you through Central Park on a cold and breezy winter day, every once in a while, nudging you, saying, Look. Look. Look.

—Matthew Lippman, author of Mesmerizingly Sadly Beautiful

Soaked in nostalgia for technology that no longer reliably functions, Bialer shows us ourselves through these lost gadgets. But it’s not all melancholy; love, like life, will find a way. In this long poem, he deftly steps between grief, architecture, potato and leek soup, and hope. And if you ever had a View-Master, the last image of this remarkable poem will give you chills.

–Matthew Rohrer – author of THE SKY CONTAINS THE PLANS

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry #loss #grief #life #hope

[say-narry]

Hey i was wondering if you could write a fluffy zayn x reader?

Hey babe, sorry to be late... I have many requests so I adapted this one for you (original is with Harry).

Note: English isn’t my first language. Hope you all like it. Please, give me your opinion with a reblog, fav or a note in my askbox :) These gif's aren't mine.

Pairings: Zayn!boyfriend x Reader

warnings: no one

talk with me | masterlist

Make a massage

One more day in that company and you would rip someone's head off.

The thought made you laugh weakly as you parked at Zayn's house. It was a little after six o'clock when you clicked the control to close the garage door.

Your head was pounding with fatigue, no pill could cure that, but you had another remedy: Zayn, actually, his hands.

Your shoulders burned and you grabbed your backpack and locked the car, sighing as you walked through the door leading straight from the kitchen.

"Hey Sunny!" Zayn smiled, stirring the pot.

The smell of cooking chicken came from the oven, making your stomach beg for a big piece. You loved to eat, even more so when Zayn was home and cooking for you.

"Hi baby." You replied and pulled your backpack over near the countertop on the floor and sat down on the bench facing Zayn. You leaned against the clear marble which made Zayn let out a chuckle.

"Rough day?" He turned off the fire and washed his hands, you tried to relax but everything seemed to hurt. You waved your thumb.

You felt him coming closer caressing your head, you turned to him and hugged him, feeling his perfume and the warm temperature made your body relax little by little.

"I can imagine, my love... I can imagine" Zayn hugged you, caressing your back covered by your t-shirt.

"Do you massage?" You asked giving your best pity face as you raised your face to Zayn, seeing those two green eyes staring at you.

"Let's go to dinner, then you'll get to know my massage therapist side." He kissed you softly and left a kiss on the top of your head, you agreed leaning into him to get off the chair.

The pajamas consisting of slippers, sweatpants and a Wonder Woman t-shirt in a gray tone made you feel welcomed, it wasn't tight like your social pants and didn't hurt your foot like the high heels you walked on all day.

You threw yourself onto the fluffy bed with a grunt, Zayn had just stepped into the shower and you looked forward to the moment when his hands would squeeze your tense muscles.

You dozed off when you felt Zayn's body sitting on your buttocks and leaning over you and supporting your arms stretched out beside your body as his lips kissed your back.

"My love, do you still want the massage? Or do you want to sleep?" He whispered and you nodded positively.

Soon he got off of you and you straightened up on the bed sitting Indian style and he sat behind you, leaving you between his legs.

"Take your top off, sunshine, please." You took it off, leaving only a loose fitting top, listening to Zayn uncap a blackberry scented gel.

He had bought it the last time he was in Italy, he knew how much you loved the fruit and the smell of the products made with it.

"Before doing so, Z carefully pinned your hair up high, massaging your scalp and secured it with a clip that was in his hair, you thought all the care was incredible.

Zayn even though he was far away, loved to know about your day no matter how dull it was and even though he had many more amazing stories to tell, he was always like that, careful and interested in you and everything that was involved with you.

"The intern... I'm doing work for two!" You started and your skin shivered as the icy gel touched your skin, Zayn's large hands spread the product, squeezing just above your shoulders earning a groan from you "I teach her everything I know and she ignores it, I think she doesn't like me... and why do you know, babe"

Zain frowned between his eyebrows, spreading a little more of the cream to near the hem of his sweatshirt "Actually I don't know, my love, why?"

His thumbs pressed a sore spot on your shoulders, making you arch your body "It hurts, Z" you whined again.

"Sorry my little one, it feels like your muscle has knotted" He distributed kisses and massaged again and now, more lightly.

"She's your fan and she knows we're dating..." you let out, rolling your eyes "I don't know..." A mixture of sadness, tiredness and confusion went through you.

Since you started dating Zayn, your life had changed, but you still remained a studious, hardworking, independent woman, you were responsible for training the new HR girl, but seeing Zayn's and your picture on her lockscreen and your face on his instagram pictures, she just ignored you, leaving you to talk to yourself. You tried to understand, but working in human resources, it made you upset, were you guilty of loving someone?

"Really... But still, it makes me sad." You confessed taking a deep breath.

"My sun..." Zayn caught her attention "You care too much about others...and that's what makes me love you so much, know that! But try not to worry so much, okay? I love you and my fans know how good you do me!"

He put his arms around your waist and laid you on his chest, Zayn was also shirtless and you allowed yourself to relax once again. His fingers massaged your hand, twisting it lightly, twisting your fists slightly, and bringing them close to his face allowing him to leave tender kisses.

"I love you too, even more your massaging side." You smiled with your eyes already closed.

The last thing you heard was Zayn laughing softly and snuggling you tighter in his arms.

[letsloveimagines]

Title: Forever

Pairing: Corpse Husband x female!reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: How about one where Corpse proposes? With flowers and everything! Like he went out of his comfort zone to propose to you in public because he felt like you deserved it!

Word Count: 2225

Warnings: luff and some swearing

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦

The little black box, with that important thing hidden inside, weighed in the pocket of his dark jeans as he headed for her condo. Corpse's breathing was fast, his hands were shaking immensely, and his heart was beating fast, so fast that it seemed to want to escape his chest.

He strode, always faster than anyone, avoiding people who came in the opposite direction as far away as possible. The further away the better.

Swallowing hard feeling a lump in his throat, Corpse looked at the sky, which at that moment was a sea of red, orange and yellow, indicating that it would not be long before dark and for the moon to replace the sun.

Grabbing his phone and watching the time, he quickened his pace even more, playing with the rings on his long fingers and feeling his back cold with the nervous sweat.

He was ready, however, and he was sure that Y/N was the one. Since that day they met at the small cafe, he knew she was his forever. That day Corpse had risked going out for the first time in a very long time, trying to win even though he knew he would never really be able, at least not as he almost did now with her. That red-haired employee looked at him bored - certainly tired and dissatisfied with his own life, but who wasn’t? - his deep voice stuttering nervously as he tried to place the order. He succeeded there, and the minutes that it took the employee to complete it were truly terrifying. He said a small thank you, handed over the money, and in the moment he took the cup his hands were shaking so much that he thought he was going to drop it. Everyone was looking at him, Corpse was able to feel their gaze and there was nothing he wanted to do but disappear from there. But then an angel came up to him, gently touched his hands assuring him that everything was fine, and offering him a big, beautiful smile that made him dreamy for the rest of the day. Cliché he had the notion of that, but so incredibly good that remembering it makes him feel butterflies in his belly.

The memory was long enough to reach its destination, and the nerves tripled at the moment he saw the condominium of white and brown buildings. He was quick to send a message to let her know that he was already there, and it didn't take long to receive one in exchange of her saying she was going down as fast as she could.

Corpse took a deep breath, leaning against the wall with the white paint a little chipped and in need of a new coat of paint, and reached into his pocket feeling the velvet box stroking his fingerprints. It was still there, safe and heavy with all hopes for a bright future.

"Hey, love." Y/N’s sweet voice sounded nearby, along with the sound of her elegant footsteps.

"Hey, babe.." Corpse greeted pulling the mask away slightly - he couldn't get out without it, even on that very important day - and kissed his girlfriend's black-colored lips (she started to like seeing herself in black since they were together). It was a gentle kiss but full of longing and security, and especially full love. Her lips tasted like blackberries, which he loved, and the black lipstick helped to highlight the beautiful features of her face that only left him even more enchanted. How he was lucky enough to have someone so wonderful in his shitty life? This was something that Corpse questioned every day…

Y/N's eyes were bright when they pulled away and she smiled sweetly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I missed you."

"As did I, baby. Where do you want to go?"

"I thought it would be good for us to take a little walk."

"Are you sure? We can stay home if you want to, or if you don’t feel comfortable." Oh, how he loved her. Y/N was so understanding and attentive, and if she was another girl, she would have left his sorry ass a long time ago. And yes, Corpse was uncomfortable being on the outside, in plain sight, but it was something he wanted to do for her.

"I'm sure, let's go. It will be dark soon."

Y/N was quick to get to his left side, interlacing their fingers when they joined hands, Corpse's bigger hand practically swallowing hers.

Without further ado they began to walk calmly, Corpse remembering to slow down knowing that it would be difficult for his girlfriend to keep up with his hurried pace.

"I was thinking that we could go to dinner at that restaurant that you like." He informed her. It was a small and quiet restaurant, and they had been there before. It had gone well and without any problem. That was how he wanted it that night.

"Sure, I'd love it as long as it's okay with you." Y/N looked at him again with an uncertain look.

Corpse stroked her small hand. "I'll be fine as long as I'm with you."

The pink tone on her cheeks and the passionate smile with which she presented him made it all worthwhile.

On the way to the restaurant they talked about their days. Y/N told him how it had been a little busy day (she was a graphic designer) and she had already finished the cover of a fantasy book, and given it to the writer when he decided he wanted to change something at the last minute. She managed to do so, but not without feeling that she would tear her hair out in frustration. Corpse pulled her closer to him and assured her that everything was fine, that she was great at what she did and that better days would come.

He was telling her about the two-hour stream playing with the friends he had made, and the music he was writing, when they finally arrived.

They went in, asked for a table further away and without much trouble went to sit in their seats, with the menu on the wooden table waiting for them. There was no need to look though, whenever they went there they asked for the same thing, so that's what they did. She ordered spaghetti bolognese and for him just a vegetable soup with chicken. To accompany, they ordered a small bottle of wine. Corpse's left leg swung quickly, while discreetly touching his pocket.

"Is everything alright, baby?" She asked at the same time that the food was being served.

"Yes, don't worry."

Y/N didn’t stop looking at him with concern, but she did not insist. While they ate they were talking about nothing and everything, enjoying the feeling of being in public in what had been a long time. The restaurant was almost empty, with just another couple at a distant table with their backs to them, which made him more comfortable. It was small with the floor, tables and chairs all in wood, with brick walls with a rustic effect, and small iron lamps lighting the place almost lovingly.

Time passed and Corpse's nervousness only grew. They ate and drank wine, enjoyed dessert, and were happy and smiling.

Corpse was helping Y/N to put on the black leather jacket - her outfit consisted of comfortable shoes, red pants and a cute black tank top, as well as the delicate shamrock necklace he had given her on their one year anniversary -, when she questioned him curiously. "We are going home now?

"Let's go out for a little while." The beautiful girl's surprised look did not escape him, even he was surprised that he was succeeding to do that.

They left the restaurant after paying and ventured into the city, holding hands and full of soft words. Every now and then, Y/N would lift his hand to her lips and give a small kiss on the skin full of protruding veins.

The stars shone in the middle of the night, the moon was full and round, high and illuminating the path to the park. There were wooden benches every few meters, tall street lamps peeking out near the trees and the round lake by the children's swing. Y/N used to go there in her childhood.

They sat on the grass by the lake, their feet immersed in the cold water that reflected the moon. They were silent for a moment, completely at peace watching the couple of swans swimming nearby, gently cutting the water and with their long white necks almost intertwined.

It was now. Now was the moment.

"Y / N…"

"Yes, Corpse?" She looked at him with the stars shining in her eyes, and leaving him speechless.

Corpse’s heart sped up, blood pounded in his ears and his hands trembled when he opened his coat and removed the flower he had protected in the inner pocket. The black rose was in perfect condition, sparkling with the small silver particles that embellished the petals.

He handed it over to Y/N, who accepted her happily with a smile almost as big as his love for her.

"Oh, babe, it's beautiful! Thank you so much."

He smiled shyly, with extremely sweaty palms, and watched as the girl in front of him admired the flower, without knowing that she was also being admired by him.

"I do not deserve you." He said at last, immediately regretting it seeing her smile fading.

"What are you saying?"

"I-"

"Babe, you’re really scaring me right now. What's going on?" Y/N's gentle hands came to his face, taking off his mask (which was fine by him because he trusted her absurdly, and they were alone), and caressed the skin of his cheeks with concern.

"Let me talk before I turn myself into a coward once again. I don't deserve you, I have a full sense of that, you're too good for me and kinder than anyone will ever be. I'm not a religious person, my life didn't allow me to be , but since we’re together I pray every day that you would not wake up one day, and realize that it’s not me who you want by your side."

"It will never happen, you are everything I ever wanted." She whispered.

"I am not... but you are what I always desired." He smiled. "You take my problems when you shouldn't, you help me and you take care of me. I can talk to you about everything because I know my secrets with you are safe. You support me when I doubt myself, and you do it all without asking for anything in return. "

"I just want your love."

Corpse kissed her, feeling the soft brush of her lips against his. Just a simple kiss from her was enough to calm him down for good. "You already have it." He assured her, then touched the velvet box and took it out of his pocket. Y/N's shocked sigh filled the air, and she raised her hands to her mouth. "And I know that I will never be enough, that I will never be good enough... But I will try. From sunrise to bedtime I swear to love you and try to make you happy every day. And if one day I don't, I know that I wasted the best thing I have in my fucking life... "

The tears overflowed from her eyes, sliding down her face in rivers of happiness. "Corpse…"

Corpse opened the box showing her what he had been hiding for several months. It was a simple ring - too simple for her in the boy's opinion, but that was how she liked it - made of silver with an oval diamond in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones in square shape, and many smaller ones around it, embellishing the circle.

"Y/N…" He sighed deeply, more sure than ever in his life, even though trying to control his anxiety. "Do you want to marry me?"

The girl threw herself at him, hugging him tightly and crying in his chest. "Yes, yes! Of course I do! Of course I want to marry you."

He laughed happily and deeply, smiling so much that he thought the corners of his lips must reach his ears. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her perfume and murmuring how much he loved her... But mainly thanking her for loving him.

After a few minutes of laughter and sobbing, Y / N walked away with red, wet cheeks and slightly swollen eyes, but looking more beautiful than ever.

"How long…?"

"Much too long." Gently he took her hand and stuck the engagement ring on her left ring finger, where it glowed as if it belonged there. "I should have done this a long time ago."

"It's beautiful." Y/N said in admiration. "I love you."

"Not more than I love you."

They shared another kiss, this one longer than the others, and left their foreheads gently touching each other, with their eyes closed and wanting to record the moment forever in their memory.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"I’m the one who should be thanking you…"

"I knew you were forever. I've known it since that day at the cafe."

"Yes…" Y/N agreed. "Forever."

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦ Tag List: @breathygasps @unicornblood4ever @jay-jay-love @mintchip17 

[five-rivers]

Oooh, I just saw the big about prompts!

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

(Can be inspiration or an actual quote; do what ya want! :P)

The world ended on a Saturday, and it wasn’t Danny’s fault.  Even if that Saturday happened to be his sixteenth birthday.  

Okay, maybe that was a bit overdramatic.  But, honestly, neither he nor anyone else he’d ever spoken to knew why or how things had turned out this way.  Just that, one morning, reality shook, shuddered, and took a few steps to the left.  

Humanity woke to green-streaked skies, a rainbow sun, and a lot more universe than they were used to.  So did ghosts.  

This was a problem.  It might even be deemed the problem.  Humans and ghosts didn’t exactly get along, and even when neither the ghosts nor the humans involved particularly wanted to fight, the new laws of nature and the few who did want to fight tended to ruin things for everyone else.  (Cough, GIW, cough, Walker, cough.)

Hence the end of the world.  Or, at least, most large-scale governments.  

It could have been worse.

Amity Park stopped being a city that day, fragmented with Ghost Zone wilderness, landscape and spatial dimensions shattered in a spiderweb centered on Fentonworks, the portal a wellspring of wild power and unpredictable translocations.  Danny had worried that the portal had been the cause of the whole thing, but Amity Park was far from the only place with similar issues (look at New York), and Danny eventually was able to accept that not every bad ghost-related thing that happened was on him.  

(Probably.)

Honestly, once everything calmed down a bit, the new world was much more comfortable, physically and mentally, for Danny to live in.  Which was weird, but made sense.  The new world was split between human and ghost, just like him.  It was everyone else who was uncomfortable, now.  

Which, again, he felt guilty about, but, yeah.  He couldn’t do anything about that, so feeling guilty was counterintuitive.  Thank you, tiny Jazz in his head.  

It was Saturday again.  Time for the market fair.  

“Mom and Dad are already out?” asked Danny, leaning over the banister.  

“Yeah,” said Jazz, not looking up from her work transcribing an old ghost text into something more palatable to human eyes.  She adjusted her green lenses to sit closer to her eyes.  “An hour or two ago.  Some guys from Chicago came in last night, apparently, and they wanted to get a head start.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “I’m going, too.  You want anything?”

“Nope.  I’d be going myself if I did,” said Jazz.  

“You sure?  Nothing for dinner?”  

“Nope, I’m all set.”

“Cool,” said Danny, padding towards the door.  He pulled his nice, dark coat, the one he’d gotten from Dora, off the hook, and shrugged into it, pulling up the hood.  

“No shoes today?” asked Jazz, who had finally looked up.  

“Eh,” said Danny.  “I guess not.  Doesn’t really feel like a shoe kind of day.”  He flexed his toes.

“Well, avoid blackberries, then,” said Jazz.  

“They should avoid me,” joked Danny.  “Good luck with that book!”

“Thanks,” said Jazz, waving as Danny left.  

Fentonworks was the same tall, brick-and-UFO building as it had always been, but now it stood alone on top of a small hill rising from a distinctly purple forest.  The dark grass waved back and forth like the tentacles of a sea anemone.  Bright green portal streaks, cracks in reality, stood out against the foliage, along with a few other buildings that had once belonged to the Fentons’ neighborhood.  The sun was blue today, but Danny predicted it would be green by nightfall.  

Danny walked down the path, the dirt on it declining to adhere to Danny’s feet.  He hummed, quietly, a tune he half-remembered from before the apocalypse.  He would not be walking all the way to the market fair, it was too far.  His parents had taken the Speeder.  

Danny, on the other hand, had a shortcut.  

He reached one of the portal-fractures and passed through to a part of the forest where the trees whispered to one another.  He took a moment to reorient himself, and continued to the next portal fracture.  

As far as he knew, he was the only person who could reliably travel like this.  He could have flown, but the market fair was busy, and he preferred to maintain his peaceful life.  Phantom was still a celebrity in Amity Park.  Even more so now, than before, as ghosts were no longer shot on sight.  

Some ghosts even came to Amity Park’s market fair.  

He walked through a wider-than-usual fracture which deposited him just outside the main fragment of Amity Park, near the erstwhile mall.  The mall and its attached parking lot being the place the market fair took place.  

It was busy.  There were trucks stamped with the seal of Illinois parked on the edges, presumably belonging to the delegation from Chicago.  There seemed to be more ghosts than usual as well, enough of them to make Danny shiver.   Had they come from Chicago, or was it just a coincidence?  If they had, that would be nice.  Chicago had a lot of local influence, and was one of the places that was still trying to hold together something like a national government.  If they accepted ghosts, others would follow more readily.  

Peace between the two worlds in places other than Amity Park would be very nice.  

Danny wandered down the paths of the market fair, not in any particular hurry to get to his parents’ booth.  He was always more interested in the other things at the fair.  Even if he rarely bought anything.  

People seemed to be mostly moving in one direction.  No, they were being drawn in one direction, with people tugging their companions onward.  Danny, not having anything better to do, went with the flow.  

Which led back to where the Chicago delegation was set up.  Several people were standing in front of the trucks, arguing.  

“How can you lose an entire bevy of ghosts?” demanded the man who appeared to be in charge.  

The target of his ire merely shrugged.  

“Can’t lose people like that, bub!” shouted someone from the crowd.  There was a titter of laughter.  

“Didn’t you have a big, fancy announcement, fed?” 

More laughter.  

“Yeah, what did you want to say?”  This voice had an echo to it, and the the man looked extremely aggrieved.  

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath.  “We were led to believe,” he said, cheek jumping, “by certain ghosts, that there was a way to negotiate with the ghosts and... reverse this nonsense.”

Wow.  So, Chicago got scammed.  That could have repercussions.  Danny hoped Amity Park wouldn’t see too much of the fallout.  

“Wouldn’t you jump on any chance to stop this?” demanded the man in response to the jeers, gesturing at the sky and its pulsing bands of light.  

“Tell us a better story!” shouted Ember, who had struck up a much more cordial relationship with Amity Park after the apocalypse.  “One that we’ll remember!”

The man turned away, throwing his hands in the air.  “Go find them!” he shouted, presumably to his subordinates. 

The crowd broke up.  

Danny was curious.  It was one of his defining characteristics, both as a human and as a ghost.  He followed one of the Chicagoans as they walked into the market turning this way and that.  

“So,” he said, “what story was your boss fed?”

The woman jumped and looked down at him, disconcerted.  (Yes, he was short.  That wasn’t his fault.  Except that it probably was, via the portal accident.)

The woman sighed.  “Why not, it’ll be out before too long.  We were told that the rightful king of ghosts was in hiding here, or something stupid like that.  I don’t think they ever said he could fix the world, even.  Only that he could be negotiated with.”  She kicked the ground.  “This is so stupid.  There’s no ghost king.  This is never going to get fixed.”

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Danny.  

“How old even were you when it happened.  Ten?” asked the woman.  

“Excuse me, I was sixteen,” said Danny, crossing his arms.  

“That’s cute,” said the woman, dragging her hand down her face.  “You’re like thirteen, tops.  Not nineteen.  Jesus.  Go bother someone else, kid.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Well, you aren’t wrong that there’s no ghost king.  Last guy who called himself that got beaten up and locked in a sarcophagus forever.”

Then, just to mess with her, because she’d been rude, Danny turned invisible and left before she turned around.  

Now...  He should probably try to warn people about the scam artist ghosts.  Or would they know from the other people watching?  

Danny flicked back into visibility and continued perusing the various stalls, making small talk with the owners, bringing up the Chicagoans when it was appropriate.  

He was passing by the covered entrance of the mall, one of the most crowded spots in the market fair, when his ghost sense went off, indicating an unfamiliar ghost was nearby.  He scanned the crowd for the ghost.  He didn’t have to look very hard.  Strange ghosts tended to draw eyes, even in Amity Park.  

Especially ones that looked like this.  Inhumanly tall, cloaked, and moving smoothly.  Glimpses under their hoods showed faces riddled with decay- or at least the appearance of decay.  The three of them held instruments.  Flute, drum, and summoning bell.

Danny stood to the side to let them pass.  After all, they weren’t doing anything bad as far as he could see.  

They did not.  Instead, they stopped in front of Danny.  Typical.  

Then they started playing their instruments.  And kneeling.  

Aaaand the crowd was getting bigger.  There was the person from Chicago, too.  Could he escape without turning invisible with all this attention on him?

Probably not without showcasing his ghost powers.  There were people who knew him in this crowd.  Like Paulina.  And Star.  

“Um,” said Danny.  “Hi?”

The leading ghost looked up as the sun’s light turned emerald green.  

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the Chicagoan’s jaw drop.  

“I think you might have the wrong guy,” said Danny.  “I’m not anyone’s prince.”

The ghost grinned, sharp and white.  “We came to give our blessings, my prince.  You do not need to accept them for them to exist.  We offer, also, our service and our hope in this new world that you are so suited for.”

Yeah.  This was going to be a problem.  

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH13

When Alya is so close, but so far. Will she sus out Lila this time around? Stay tuned ;)

Previous     First      Next    AO3

-------------------------

Chapter 13: Sorry Not Sorry

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated another supervillain with the help of their new sidekick Malin.”

Alya hugged her knees to her chest, the news footage broadcasting on TV. Ladybug had given out the fox Miraculous again, only this time, she didn't pick her.

“Al? You okay?”

Alya blinked, turning to Nino who sat beside her wearing a worried crease on his brow. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged.

“I…” She shifted back to the TV. “I don’t know.”

“You’re upset.”

It was a statement, not a question. Alya bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes before burying her face in his shirt with a nod.

“She picked someone else!” she wailed. “Why didn’t she come to me?”

Nino wrapped his arms around her, leaning his head against hers. “Maybe she didn’t have time,” he reasoned. “The akuma was on the other side of town, so maybe she needed someone close.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” She sniffled. “Maybe I’m overreacting.”

“Ladybug and Lila are bffs, so why don’t you ask Lila to talk to her for you?” Nino suggested.

Or so she said.

Alya pursed her lips. She didn’t know what to believe anymore when it came to Lila. Adrien hated lying, and so did Marinette. But everything just seemed too convenient. There was no doubt in her mind that Marinette thought she was telling the truth, but how much were her feelings for Adrien clouding her judgment? And if Adrien was getting his stories from Marinette…

There was only one way to find out if Lila was telling the truth once and for all—the one person who Alya trusted to tell the truth above all else.

“I’ll ask Lila if she can set up an interview for me,” she said. “Then I can ask Ladybug myself.”

“Good. That’s my girl.” Nino brushed a tear from her cheek. “You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know.” Alya stretched up to touch her lips to his.

“I love you no matter what, Al.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

♪♫♪ peace ♪♫♪

“Wait, so what happened?” Adrien asked.

The warm spring sun cast glistening rays across the Seine while Adrien reclined on a bench, chatting over ice cream with Marinette. It was the first time he’d seen her since visiting Macy’s house, and he’d missed a lot in a few short days. Lightning round catch-up sessions seemed to be the new norm for them. Between Marinette changing schools and Adrien’s packed schedule, finding time to see each other was almost impossible.

“I don’t know really,” Marinette said. “I was walking home from Martin’s house, and Gabrielle latched onto me. She was being followed by some creepy guys.”

“Did you report it?”

“Well, no…” Marinette admitted, taking a sheepish lick of her ice cream. “We got away, and nothing else happened.”

“You should have gone with Eliott and Macy. What if something had happened to you?” Adrien scolded. The thought made his blood boil.

“I know, but if I hadn’t been there, something could have happened to Gabrielle. I know she’s mean, but I don’t want her getting hurt.” She lowered her gaze.

Adrien breathed a small sigh, then smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright. I’d hate for you to get hurt too,” he said. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. “R-Really?”

“Lila’s still parading around like she owns the place, and whenever I walk around the school now, I think about how you used to sit in the courtyard with Alya or hang out in the art room with Alix and Nathaniel…” His voice trailed off. “I know why you left, and I’m glad you did if it makes you happier, but I won’t lie and say I don’t miss you.”

“I miss too! I mean, you. You too. I miss you too,” Marinette stammered.

“Maybe I should transfer to your new school. Then I’d be away from Lila, and we won’t have to have these quick catch-up sessions,” Adrien said. “What do you think? Would I look good in all gray?”

“You look good in everything,” she said, then quickly added, “I-I mean, your dad is a famous fashion designer, so of course you always look fine. Not fine like, hey, you fine, but just fine, ya know?” She shoved a big spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“Thanks.” He chuckled.

Something about the rosiness in her cheeks made him giddy. After the past few weeks, he wanted to make her smile too. Too often now, the sparkle in her eyes was a dull reflection of what it once was. She may put on a happy face, but Adrien had hid enough sorrow in his life to know when someone was still hurting. Feeling bold, he reached out to brush the corner of her mouth with his cone, smearing orange ice cream across her upper lip.

“Hey!” She flinched away with a giggle.

Marinette even attempted to return the favor with her own ice cream, but Adrien blocked her playful attempts easily, grasping her hand in his own to keep it away from his face. Their giggles stopped short when their struggling brought them face-to-face, lips inches apart.

Something in her eyes resonated with him, a glowing sense of longing and wonder that made his heart race. Marinette was precious to him. She always had been ever since they met. He never noticed before, but something always brought him back to her—an invisible string tying them together. Being next to her felt right. Safe. Warm. She was a cozy cottage offering him refuge from the cold with her glowing fires, but he didn’t want to be the only one soaking in the warmth. He wanted to be her refuge too.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, and he’d spend the next several hours attempting to decipher his next actions. His gaze flicked down to the ice cream melting against her lips, and he leaned in, breath hitching as their noses brushed. She closed her eyes, tilting her head ever-so-slightly, but they flew open again as he trailed his thumb across her lip.

She faltered as he pulled away, face falling into one hand. Ragged breaths heaved her chest, and she clutched her shirt tightly. Had he gone too far?

“Sorry, that was dumb,” he said with a wince. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no!” she insisted, waving her arms. “Just I thought that…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought that…you were going to kiss me,” she said.

Now his cheeks were the ones burning. “Oh.”

“It’s fine. It just took me by surprise. That’s all.” She averted her gaze, shoulders slumping as she shoved a tiny spoonful into her mouth.

It wasn’t an absurd assumption to make now that he thought about it. He really was bad at this sort of thing, but now that she mentioned it…

“Do you want to?” he asked.

She blinked, turning back to him. “Do I want to what?”

“Kiss me.”

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him, speechless. What was he thinking? Of course she didn’t want to kiss him! Besides, he was in love with Ladybug. At least, he had been… No! He was in love with Ladybug. There was no denying it, but after spending so much time with Marinette…

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first. Maybe him. Marinette’s magnetism always drew him in whether he was aware of it or not. Was she drawn to him in the same way too? The way her fluttery lashes hooded over her eyes when their noses touched made him think so.

Should he stop? Did he want to stop? He didn’t know. Everything was jumbled, but her breath was warm on his lips, tasting of blackberries and vanilla. Perhaps they could build one cabin together and share the warmth of their flames. Maybe then they’d both be safe.

A city groundskeeper cranked on a leaf blower just before their lips touched. They jolted apart, Marinette physically shifting several centimeters away from him, clutching her chest. Silence stretched between them, deafened by the roar of the leaf blower. Hearts hammering, lips tingling, neither one was able to look at the other.

Adrien’s mind whirled. He’d almost kissed Marinette. And he was okay with it. In fact, he was disappointed that they hadn’t kissed. Did he dare try again? What did this mean for his feelings for Ladybug? Was he in love with Marinette?

The questions racing through his mind screeched to a halt, singling in on that one thought. In love with Marinette. No. She was just…

A friend? He was starting to have his doubts. Was there anyone else that he would go to bat for like Marinette? Adrien had fallen further than he ever thought capable in the past few weeks, done things he wasn’t proud of, but would do over again in a heartbeat if it brought her some relief. He wasn’t an expert, but those things didn’t seem platonic to him anymore. So the question remained.

“Marinette, I-” The buzz of her phone cut him off, and she fumbled to retrieve it from her purse with a shaking hand.

“Oh.” She stood up. “I have to go. Martin and I have a group project to work on this afternoon.”

His heart sank. “No worries. It was nice to catch up with you for a while.”

“Yeah, it was. It was nice…” She pursed her lips.

“Can I see you again soon?”

Her eyes found his, timid and uncertain, and a smile curled on her lips. She leaned down to kiss his cheek, eyes sparkling the way he remembered. “I’ll see you soon.”

Adrien watched her go, the electricity of her kiss stinging his cheek. Who was Marinette to him? He wasn’t sure anymore, but the pounding of his heart was evidence enough that things were changing.

♪♫♪ All the Boys ♪♫♪

“Tilt your head to the left more.”

The park across from Marinette’s house buzzed with children, and Marinette’s cheeks burned as Martin’s camera clicked with each photo. When Mme. Pierre paired them for an art project, she hadn’t anticipated being a model, but with her design skills and Martin’s love of photography, a photoshoot just made sense. Martin was gentle with his commands, and having seen his work before, there was no doubt they’d turn out amazing. Still, Marinette vastly preferred staying on the designing end of fashion.

With one last click, Martin paused to review his camera roll. “That’s good for now. You can take a break.”

“Great.” Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have the camera out of her face. “I don’t know how Adrien does it. Modeling is so awkward.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve done a really good job,” Martin assured her.

“Can I take a look?” She nodded at the camera in his hands.

“Sure. I’m gonna grab a different lens for our next take.” He retreated to his bag while Marinette sifted through the photos.

Even though she felt stiff and unnatural while posing, Martin managed to capture her from all the right angles. She almost didn’t recognize herself in some of them. Was this how Adrien felt all the time? Was the dreamy-eyed boy on posters around town a stranger to him as well? She already felt self-conscious after only a few photos. How Adrien kept his confidence with his face plastered all over Paris was beyond her.

“Oh!” She reached the end of their photos, but the next image brought a smile to her lips.

Martin had taken some photos to test his new camera when they’d visited him last. Most of them were silly, but Martin had captured a particularly candid photo of Macy. Light from the window illuminated her hair, casting shadows across her cheeks from her long lashes. It was beautiful, and Marinette could see why Martin took it.

“What do you think so far? I was thinking for our next set we could try to get Notre Dame in the background, and- What?” Martin paused to quirk a brow at Marinette’s smirk.

“I was just scrolling, and I came across this picture of Macy from last week. It’s a really good photo, you should show her-”

Martin’s cheeks flushed, and he snatched the camera from her grasp. Seeming to realize the forcefulness of his actions, he flashed her an apologetic wince.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to peek,” she said.

“No, no, it’s fine. I…actually can I tell you something?” he asked.

Marinette took a seat on a nearby bench and patted the space beside her with an encouraging nod, and Martin sank next to her stiffly.

“You probably don’t care, but I want to ask for your opinion…” He curled his shoulders.

“Why wouldn’t I care?” Marinette asked, then with a smile added, “What’s on your mind?”

“Well…I kind of like Macy as more than a friend.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks as rosy as Ladybug’s super suit. “Is that weird?”

“Aww, Martin,” Marinette cooed. “Of course it’s not weird. Why would it be?”

“I dunno. Just…she didn’t know I took that picture of her, but I just couldn’t help it,” he said.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure I’m one to judge. I used to have a ton of pictures of Adrien all over my walls,” Marinette admitted. “So I think one picture is fine.”

Martin shifted his gaze to his lap, tapping his fingers on the camera. “I transferred here last year, and the first time I heard Macy sing I thought she was really beautiful,” Martin said. “I never thought she’d notice me until you came along.”

“That’s so sweet, Martin!” Marinette said. “I’m sure she’ll notice you if you put yourself out there.”

“I dunno…” he said. “She likes really handsome, popular guys like Adrien. I don’t think she’d ever look at me that way.”

Marinette bit her tongue, thinking back to what Eliott told her after his rehearsal a few days before. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a really sweet guy, Martin, and I’m sure you’ll turn her head one of these days. Try talking to her more, and let her get to know the real you.”

“Thanks, Marinette. I’m still getting used to all of this. I’ve never had friends like this before, and I’m really glad I met you,” Martin said with a smile.

This time it was her turn to blush. “I hope everything works out between you and Macy.”

“I hope the same for you and Adrien.”

Now there was a thought to get her heart racing. What was that earlier? Was Adrien really going to kiss her? Did this mean he loved her too? Did she dare even dream? She wasn’t sure anymore. Just like Martin, all she could do was hope her feelings would be reciprocated someday.

♪♫♪ Falling Down ♪♫♪

Alya’s shoulders were stiff as she entered the school on Monday. Her peers chatted about the new hero, Rena Rouge’s legacy long forgotten. She kept her head low as she headed to the locker rooms.

“Hey, best friend,” Lila greeted with a smile.

“Hey, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” Alya asked.

Lila sobered. “Of course,” she said with an unmistakable hint of caution. She followed Alya to a secluded corner of the courtyard. “What’s up?”

“You’re friends with Ladybug, right?” Alya asked.

“Yeah, we’re like this.” Lila crossed her fingers. “Why?”

“Well, with the new superhero… I just wanted to get some inside deets for my blog. What’s the story? What happened to Rena Rouge? That sort of thing,” Alya said carefully.

“Oh, is that all?” Lila relaxed. “Well, she usually consults me before she picks a new hero because she values my input. I don’t know all of the details on Malin, but I can totally ask for you.”

“Actually, could you set up an interview for me? My viewers are dying to know the scoop.” Alya pressed her palms together.

“Totally. I’ll let her know you want to interview her after the next akuma. I’m sure she won’t mind,” Lila said.

“Thanks, girl. You’re the best.”

Lila smiled and hugged her tightly. “Don’t you forget it.”

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: In a world where the different Jedi sects co-exist, Ahsoka Tano and her Master Obi-Wan Kenobi are waiting for a stranger in the desert.

AN: I have started a new WIP.

Ahsoka had learned quite a lot since she had become her Master’s Padawan. Mostly she had been taught how to fight, take down opponents twice her size, how to defend and protect others by building walls higher than anyone could climb, and not get lost in the screaming, tear-stained horror of war. Perhaps it was not the padawanhood that Ahsoka had imagined, but she wouldn’t trade Obi-Wan for any other Master. He was patient, kind, and never lost his temper with her, even when Ahsoka made a foolish mistake, and the day had been longer than a week.

Her Master always kept busy, running around organizing one thing or another. The evidence of his exhaustion was visible in the bags under his eyes he didn’t quite manage to hide behind meditations anymore. He was relentlessly trying to find a way to end this war earlier, to save more people, to lessen the burden on each and every person he loved. Ahsoka would be glad if they could cease fighting within just a few short months, but even she knew that the chance of peace was dwindling with every life lost on either side.

And they certainly weren’t on Tatooine to talk about peace. At most, they were hoping to negotiate non-involvement from the Hutts – at least superficially, of course the Hutts would continue with their underground dealings, even the GAR relied on it – and use of their hyperspace lanes.

“General, if you don’t mind me asking, who are we waiting for?”

Ahsoka was glad that Cody had spoken up. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to keep her silence much longer. She hadn’t wanted to pester Obi-Wan with questions, but she was curious why they had landed in the middle of the Force-forsaken desert in the middle of the night and not anywhere near Jabba’s palace.

“We are waiting for an informant,” Obi-Wan said. “An old friend, if you will.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to ask what kind of friend Obi-Wan had on Tatooine of all places when she saw a figure approaching on a speeder. Immediately, everyone looked up. When a few of the more blaster-inclined clones of their small squadron reached for their weapons, Obi-Wan gave them the hand sign to lay low. They exchanged curious looks but dropped the guns, trusting him completely. Ahsoka hoped that she could inspire such trust in her someday.

The person parked their speeder just outside of their camp. From what Ahsoka could see, they were dressed entirely in dark robes, cut not dissimilar to those of a Coruscanti Jedi, while their face was covered by a dark scarf. Various trinkets hung from their belts and arms, as well as twin blasters, making the barest of noises when they approached the camp. Golden jewelry glinted in the light of their fire, feathers, pouches, bells, and something that could be bones chimed sweetly with the wind. The figure stretched, then they took notice of Obi-Wan. Quicker than Ahsoka could have stopped them, they had crossed the remaining distance and thrown themselves at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan!”

Her Master just barely managed to keep his balance as he accepted the hug of the other person. They embraced tightly, an eternity passing in which dark leather-gloved fingers dug into her Master’s back, then let go of each other. The figure removed the dark scarf from around their head, let it fall around their neck, revealing tanned skin, a human face, and dark blonde hair that was framed by little golden feathers tugged behind his ears.

The person smiled openly, rolled forward on their toes and only then spoke. “It’s been a while.”

Their voice was surprisingly soft, melodic almost.

“That it has,” Obi-Wan agreed, smiling just as welcoming, the Force lighting up in reciprocal. “It has been too long since we last saw each other, Anakin. Thank you for meeting us here, even if the circumstances are not ideal.”

The newly named Anakin just shrugged. “I was in the area and really, making an extra stop at Tatooine for you is no trouble.”

The two looked ready to forget about just everyone else still standing around the campfire, watching them, and so Ahsoka decided to do her duty and coughed. “Master, would you be so kind as to introduce us?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Apologies, Ahsoka.”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin mumbled, then snapped their fingers, alight with recognition as they faced Obi-Wan. “Your Padawan, correct?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin grinned, pointing at Cody next. “And then that must be Cody. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Anakin Skywalker, he/him.”

He bowed formally with both his feet firm on the ground, one hand clasped over his heart, the other on his back. Delighted, Ahsoka copied the gesture. It had been ages since she’d been at the temple and someone had greeted her with all the respect Jedi usually gave each other.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Ahsoka returned his greeting, still trying to figure out who this Anakin was that her Master had decided to talk to him about her.

“Anakin here is a Teepo Paladin—”

“Sort of,” Anakin interrupted Obi-Wan, tilting his hand and shaking it in a so-and-so matter. “I haven’t been back to our temple in years, so I’m still not technically a Paladin, but still a Knight on their Search…”

He stopped talking when he realized that nobody had any idea of what he was talking about. Ahsoka didn’t know much about the Teepo Paladins. They were a relatively small group, and unlike the Altisian or Corellian Jedi, they hadn’t joined the Republic Army and stayed mostly on their own, following the Force. Ahsoka had learned about them, and all the other groups the ordinary sentient threw under the header Jedi, in her classes, but she’d never actually met a Teepo Jedi.

“Doesn’t matter,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “How can I help you?”

“We need to negotiate with Jabba,” Obi-Wan said, not wasting a single minute. “Do you think you can tell us something that would be useful?”

“Uh,” Anakin put his head in his hands. “Yeah, he’s a bastard and gates my guts. If he sees me around you guys, it’s definitely not going to be pleasant.”

“What did you do to him?” Ahsoka asked, curiosity taking ahold of her tongue before she could stop herself.

Anakin didn’t seem to mind the interruption; he only eagerly continued his narration. “Decided to steal his latest shipment of slaves and then some. With Coruscant, Corellia, and the Altisian bores—”

“Anakin.” Her Master’s voice rang out sharp, reminding Ahsoka of the times he scolded her.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, the Altisian Jedi all running the Republic army, the rest, who hasn’t sworn allegiance to a planet or a system, is just doing damage control all around. I’ve wrecked a couple dozen pirate ships already, or so it feels, at least. But yeah, long story short, I won’t be able to help with Jabba, but I can provide backup if it goes sideways?”

Obi-Wan sighed, but even so, he still felt happy and comfortable to Ahsoka’s senses as he hadn’t in weeks. “We’ll take what we can get. I’ll call the Council. Do you want to stay with us for the night?”

Anakin gave him a thumbs up. “Already told my mother I was staying. And I brought my own food, so you don’t have to spare your rations. I think I might even have some sweets.” He glanced at Ahsoka and winked conspiringly, making her giggle.

Obi-Wan’s expression softened. “Alright, alright, I see, you’re set for life. Get comfortable then.”

He turned around to walk a little away from the camp, but from the way his shoulders twitched, Ahsoka assumed that he definitely heard Anakin’s shouted: “Not without you!”

As her Master had ordered, everyone who wasn’t on watch gathered around the campfire and broke out the rations. Anakin did, indeed, share his candy with her and handed out more of the local food to the clones.

“My mother packed it,” he said when he shared more of the salt-covered blackberries. “It would be a waste not to share it.”

Sitting around the fire with them, he fit right in despite not looking much like a warrior. If anything, his attire, decorated with trinkets that had to stem from various planets, reminded Ahsoka of a traveler. But if she were to believe his stories, he must be quite the fighter. Ahsoka knew that more and more pirates were growing powerful and influential without Coruscant’s oversight, but she hadn’t known that the other sects had stepped up to deal with it. She wondered if the Council knew. Though, Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed surprised by it, so they were probably aware.

“So, do you not carry a lightsaber?” Ticker, one of the younger clones, asked. “I only see your blasters. I didn’t know Jedi carried those.”

“The Coruscant sect doesn’t,” Anakin agreed and then turned to Ahsoka. “Though, I think you’re still all taught how to? I know Obi-Wan’s wickedly good with a sniper rifle.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka replied quickly. She got her blaster sessions with the best marksmen of the 212th, who all ensured she should be fine if she ever lost her lightsaber.

Not that Ahsoka was planning on it.

“Right, my Order carries blasters additionally to our lightsabers.” He moved his robes and revealed his lightsaber. “I just keep it a little more hidden away. It makes it easier to work sometimes if people don’t see from a mile away that you’re a Jedi.”

Ahsoka found herself agreeing with him. It made sense and she knew that there had been at least five missions that would have been easier if their target hadn’t immediately spotted that she was a lightsaber. She knew that her Order carried the blades openly purposefully so that they could be easily identified, they had to be as they were an officially recognized member of the Republic, but Quinlan and Aayla didn’t. Most Covenant Jedi actually didn’t, ensuring they could do their work in the shadows. Occasionally, Ahsoka wondered whether she was supposed to know so much about how they operated, or if that was just a benefit of Obi-Wan being close friends with Quinlan.

“And where’s the difference between your… everything and the General’s?”

“Don’t ask me for details,” Anakin said. “Haven’t had one of those discussions in a while, but our differences aren’t that huge. Most of the differences stem from the Republic backing of the Coruscant sect, I think. The members of my Order just also carry blasters and fight entirely submerged in the Force. We also don’t really do missions, which sucks for budgeting because we still have to get funding, and just go wherever the Force takes us. We don’t really have the numbers to provoke the big changes, that’s more up Coruscant’s or Corellia’s alley. We try to help the small people on the ground and hope the big guys make sure we can leave one planet in safe hands and travel to the next.”

That sounded familiar to Ahsoka. The Coruscant sect was the largest, so they had the most influence, even if too many Senators only played pretend at listening to their suggestions. At least the Chancellor trusted them.

“What do you mean, fight submerged in the Force?” A different clone, Storytime, ever the curious, spoke up. “Is that different from the General and the Commander?”

“Oh! Right.” Anakin laughed. “So basically, we cover our eyes and ears during a fight?”

“You do what?” Cody’s alarmed tone made Ahsoka only snort. She still remembered his attempt at getting Obi-Wan to wear a little more armor by pointing at the Revanchist folks that had accompanied them on one mission.

It had been an absolute train-wreck, but they had managed to succeed. Somehow.

Anakin only grinned in reply and reached for the golden feathers behind his ears. He took them off, revealing that they were not, in fact, feathers, but electronic devices with small buttons. 

“I tap these, and they block out any and all noise and cover my eyes. Then I trust the Force to keep me safe and tell me where I need to pay attention.”

“That sounds… risky.” If Ahsoka didn’t know better, she’d say that Cody was having a heart attack. His assessment of that fighting style had been exceedingly polite given that he looked as if he wanted to cuss it out.

Anakin shrugged as if it were no big deal to him and, having grown up in such a way, it probably wasn’t. “It wasn’t that difficult to get used to. I grew up here on Tatooine. The sand and the heat steal away plenty of your senses already.”

“You weren’t raised in your temple then?”

Anakin shook his head. “No, not really. We do have a temple, a rather small one, not even a tenth of Coruscant’s size. We raise children there, but most of the time, everyone is just on their Search.”

He emphasized the last word so that Ahsoka concluded it must be a special ritual that wasn’t like their Search for younglings.

“My Master was on his Search when he found me and since the Force didn’t call him home, he continued to travel with me.”

That sounded like a strange childhood to have. Ahsoka hadn’t known anything of the galaxy but the temple walls and Ilum until Obi-Wan had accepted her as his Padawan. Since then, she had seen plenty of other planets, even if she hadn’t had too much time to appreciate their beauty. She wondered how Anakin had gotten his education. Ahsoka had attended many classes of dozens of teachers in the temple. His childhood didn’t appear to resemble hers a lot, but she could easily picture a small human boy trailing after another masked Jedi, chatting with just the same cheer he was talking now.

“Sounds fascinating,” Storytime breathed. 

“Once the war is over, feel free to come to visit us. I know of at least one other Paladin who has attached himself to a Clone squadron and is planning to take them home for a visit at least once.”

“That would be very kind,” Storytime replied.

“No problem.”

Anakin then suddenly turned his head, his motion so rash that the clones instinctually reached for their blasters. Thankfully, they recognized Obi-Wan quickly enough that nobody got hurt accidentally.

Obi-Wan only blinked at them and then sat down next to Anakin. “What a lovely greeting.”

Some of the clones sheepishly packed their blasters away while others just shot back a look that was as dry as Obi-Wan’s words. They were on Tatooine; it made sense to be even more on guard than usual.

“And? What did your Council say?” Anakin asked, handing Obi-Wan a plate with food.

“Coruscant is not taking any responsibility for any outside agents who might get involved in this mission,” Obi-Wan replied, the flow of his words so steady that he had to be reciting the words of another.

“That’s council speak for ‘let him do whatever he wants’, right?”

Obi-Wan paused with his meal to confirm his question. “Yes, Anakin, that means you can do whatever you want. But if you get invited by the Republic for a hearing, we’re not backing you up either.”

“Yes, yes, I had expected nothing else from you sticker-to-the-rules Coruscanti.”

“Says the head-in-the-clouds Teepo,” Obi-Wan retorted in the same manner, matching Anakin’s intonation, quoting old stereotypes that used to be hurled as insults but have since only become something almost akin to terms of endearments.

“So, when are we going to leave?” Ahsoka asked. She wanted to know if she should go to bed early or prepare herself for a long night.

“Tomorrow before the sun rises,” Obi-Wan said, glancing at Anakin for confirmation.

“Yes, best to leave early on Tatooine. I’d also suggest trying to get some sleep. Negotiations will be exhausting.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. “You know what that means, Ahsoka.”

“Yes, yes.” Ahsoka stood up. “Bedtime for me. I’m not a little youngling anymore, Master. I know when to get my sleep.”

She bid them goodnight and headed back towards the ship, ready to sleep curled up in the small med-station of their transport that was as close to a proper bed as she could get. She didn’t know how much longer her Master and his friend stayed up, but both looked well-rested when she got up the next day. Her Master, perhaps, even a little less exhausted than usual.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Into the Woods: chapter 1  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.

Tags: none!! all audiences!

Word Count: 3,054

Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗

Backstory

---

Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.

So he walks.

It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.

He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.

“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.

“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.

She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”

Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.

But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.

Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.

Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.

“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”

Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.

“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.

Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.

You stare at each other.

Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.

For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.

Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?

He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.

“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.

He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.

“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”

His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.

He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.

Well, when you say it like that.

Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.

Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.

Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.

Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.

All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.

--

You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.

You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.

“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.

Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.

There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”

Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.

His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.

You stare at each other.

That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.

Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.

Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.

You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.

He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”

His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”

That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.

What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.

You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.

Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.

“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.

You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.

Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.

You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.

He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.

You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.

He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.

Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.

“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”

Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.

“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.

You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’

“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”

Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.

He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.

Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.

“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.

Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.

--

Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle

[nakachuchu]

Blackberry Smoothie | Ushijima Wakatoshi

SYNOPSIS: You go out for smoothies on his free day.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 837

WRITTEN: 04/06/2021

NOTES: Thank you for requesting and being my first request for my event! I love you @catharticvillains "Did you just take my picture?" "Yep, it's my lock screen now."

It was one of Ushijima's lucky days off, so you decided to go on a date with him.

The dates you two had were never extraordinary like going to an amusement park or scuba diving. They were always simple but still fun—just the way you two liked it.

Today, you decided to go to your favorite smoothie place with him. When you told him where you wanted to go, he had said, "That's it?"

He was a simple man, but he still wanted you to have as much fun as possible, even if that meant he wasn't having as much fun.

You could have shoved him into a pool with all his clothes on and he wouldn't be as angry as he would have been if it was one of his teammates.

Your hands wrapped around his arm as the two of you waited in line to order. You were dressed for the occasion today, making sure you weren't wearing heavy and thick layers because of the warm weather.

He thought you looked adorable, but you always did since you were smaller than him. Noticing his stare, you glanced up and smiled.

His heart skipped a beat. It didn't show on his face, but he was absolutely enamored with you.

You didn't seem to mind that he didn't show any emotions on his face. You simply kissed his arm through his jacket, which you didn't know why or how he was wearing since it was so damn hot.

Once it was your turn to order, you excitedly looked at the menu. The pictures were so colorful that they made you bounce on your toes.

You tugged on Ushijima's arm, looking up to ask him what he was getting. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the expression he had on his face.

His eyes were wide in awe at the colorful choices and he looked around, not knowing what to pick.

He looked like a cute child who had just gotten a new toy and it made you giggle. You quickly took out your phone and snapped a picture, forgetting to turn off the sound.

He noticed the sound and looked down at you. You giggled and hid part of your face with your phone.

"Did you just take my picture?" he questioned.

You grinned as you looked down at your phone. "Yep, it's my lock screen now."

"Can I see?" he asked.

You nodded and turned off your phone, then turned it back on to show him your lock screen. He took out his phone and quickly snapped a picture of you.

"You're my lock screen now," he said.

You smiled and raised your arms. "Can I have a kiss?"

He grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. "Privately."

He preferred to have his intimate moments with you in private. He didn't need or want people seeing something that was only meant for you two.

You nodded and pinched his cheek lightly before lowering your arms and wrapping your hands around his arm again.

"What are you getting?" you asked.

"Blackberry smoothie."

"Really?" You burst into a fit of laughs. "I was gonna get that one too."

"Then I'll get strawberry," he said.

"Why?"

"So we can share different flavors."

You blinked, in awe at how thoughtful and cute he was despite his large body size and expressionless face.

"Sounds good," you said with a smile.

The two of you stepped up to order after the couple in front of you finished ordering. You stood between Ushijima's legs as he leaned against the wall while waiting for the smoothies. You scrolled through your phone while Ushijima looked at the contents over your head.

The two of you never hid anything from each other, so it was normal for him to look at your phone—not because he didn't trust you. It was simply because it was fun and you let him.

You never had a reason to look at his phone either because sometimes, he didn't even want to respond to his own teammates.

"Order eleven!"

"That's us!" you said excitedly.

Ushijima gently nudged you forward from the back of your shoulders, walking behind you as you walked forward to grab the smoothies.

He grabbed the straws and inserted them into the cup, then took his smoothie from your hand.

You smiled and held out your blackberry smoothie to him. He leaned down and sipped from it, nodding. You took a sip from it and hummed, satisfied at the cold fruity flavor.

He sipped his strawberry smoothie, then stared at it. You tilted your head to the side, watching him be deep in thought.

"I like the blackberry more," he grunted as he held it out for you.

You laughed, then sipped the strawberry smoothie. "Wanna switch? I'm fine with that."

"No."

"I don't mind."

"No."

"Don’t be stubborn, love."

There was silence for a moment as he glanced at you and the blackberry smoothie in your hand.

"Half-half," he said.

You smiled. "Sounds good to me."

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Interlude - Carlos: “Indecision”

-Hello all. I debated about ever having this see the light of day, as I wrote it as sort of a character study to keep myself honest while writing the main story, which I always intended to be single POV for the drama of it all. 

However, in my heart I feel like I owe you all at least something for how long you’ve waited for the conclusion to this story (I originally intended to post the whole thing before the season even started and...here we are lol), and I figured you’d appreciate this. It doesn’t spoil anything, so don’t be afraid to read if that’s something you’re worried about (unless of course you haven’t read the story at all, in which case here you go!). It’s just a glimpse into Carlos’ psyche in this AU. 

This takes place the second night of the Strand’s visit, after TK and Carlos take their first journey around the grounds that ends in the apple orchard, and subsequently Elena spilling that Mr. de Castillo will be joining them soon.

This is for all those who have encouraged me so much with this story, and I promise you all you will get the conclusion! Life has just gotten in the way so much lately :( @oquinn53, @reyeslonestar, @howtosingit, @a-l-ias, @mtnofgrace, @descending-into-the-crazies if I missed you let me know please! I love you all :)

Carlos was having difficulty dressing for dinner, and it wasn’t because of the fiddly fastenings of his waistcoat.

TK Strand was…The man was…

Carlos was also having difficulty with full sentences, even ones inside his own head.

The morning they’d shared had been as if from a dream, or a fairytale from one of Raquel’s storybooks. Every time TK smiled at the vast landscape of Carlos’ home, every time his eyes lit up at the brush of scent from the wildflowers hitting his nose, Carlos was arrested. Time stood frozen for a few moments in which he could admire the man before him at his leisure, when he could ascend to a higher plane of aesthetic dominated by the gentle slope of TK’s jaw.

Carlos had also to admit to himself—if not out loud just yet—that there was also the man’s intellect, not just his beautiful face and impeccable seat on a horse, that drew Carlos’ attention. When Carlos had asked him of his life in New York, TK had for some reason shied away from speaking of his father’s company and his own part in it, as Carlos might have expected from a man of business on a business trip. Instead, he talked of Central Park and the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and how the architecture compared to that which he’d seen on their journey through the South. He spoke of the air surrounding them and how clean it smelled, even though Carlos knew they were downwind from a herd and they both knew it.

The man was charming in his innocence and captivating in his depth in turns, and Carlos could hardly bear to look away or allow himself to speak in his turn when TK asked him a question about this landmark or that bit of wildlife.

They’d passed the morning gently ambling along wherever the horses saw fit to take them, talking of everything and nothing, and it had been glorious. And their picnic…their picnic! Carlos had never worshipped Mrs. Smith’s blackberry jam quite as much as when he caught a glimpse of it clinging to the side of TK’s mouth just before a deft tongue slipped out to take it away. He was quite taken aback at the weight of his infatuation, to be honest. He’d not ever had occasion to fall so fast into regard for someone, and it was at times disorienting and grounding. His body felt as if it had been given over to some mystical force, using its hands to ensure the movement of his heart when it stopped itself at the sight of TK’s smile in the sunshine and guiding his eyes to alight once more upon TK’s handsome profile.

The apple orchard had been…a risk. Carlos simply could no longer help himself in his desire to be near this man. He made every clandestine endeavor to brush a shoulder or knee or knuckle as they walked. Holding TK’s hand properly to help him down from Flor’s saddle was akin to ascension to the clouds beyond.

His hand still tingled when he thought of it.

Was this what everyone referred to when they spoke of love? Surely not. He’d only known the man for two days. And yet.

And yet.

Just then a knock at his bedroom door startled him out of his thoughts, which he was secretly glad of.

After a word of acquiescence from Carlos, Christina passed through the door before shutting it again behind her quietly. Her face still held a small trace of trepidation in it when she caught his gaze, and he was instantly reminded of the scene on the porch when they’d arrived back from their tour of the property.

Fernando was coming, and that muddied his thoughts more than all the rest.

“I came to see how you were faring, and I see it’s just as I suspected,” she offered in greeting. She stood in the middle of the room with her hands clasped against her skirts, looking at him in earnest.

“And what did you suspect?”

“You’re warring inside your own head as we speak. Your thoughts are plain as day on your face. As is your utter admiration for our handsome Mr. Strand. Don’t try to deny it, I know you far better than you wish.”

“That is the truth,” he muttered with a sigh. “What am I to do?”

“About what? Your obvious inclination toward Mr. Strand? Or your equally obvious promise to Mr. de Castillo?”

“There was no promise!” He flopped himself down on the bed, dressing forgotten for the moment. They’d had this argument before. “It is merely an understanding, built upon mutual need. We can just as easily misunderstand each other as well.”

“But you’re not that kind of man, Carlos. You don’t go back on your word,” she replied, her expression turning miserable. She was perhaps the only one who truly understood what had been going on in his head when he’d made the promise in the first place. Christina was also possibly the only one who truly understood why he was warring over it now. She could read his face, his tone of voice, the shape of his stance like a book.  Sometimes he hated it, but for the moment he was quite glad to not have to articulate the particulars of this struggle in bare words. He was content to skirt around the topic they both knew was on his mind with veiled hints and euphemisms.

“I know. So, esteemed elder sister, what should I do?”

She came closer and laid a hand upon his shoulder, her face still a picture of commiseration.

“You should do what every gentleman and lady wishes they could do, but for which they all lack the courage.” He stared at her, waited for her to elaborate. “You should follow your heart.”

“I can see now why all those other gentlemen and ladies lack the courage! I am damned if I do anything. If I keep my word to Fernando, I will be secure but restless, adrift, unfulfilled and bound to endure it, and it will be no fault of his but completely my own. He is a good man, and he does not deserve my indifference.”

“But he would have it anyway, would he not? You don’t—“

“You’re right, I do not. But that is not the point!”

“I thought it was? And what should happen if you break your word?” Her eyes seemed to bore into his skull despite the soft brown of her irises.

“I…” Words seemed to slip away on the wind from the open window. He thought again of TK asking about the wildflowers, how his smile lit up the landscape more than the rising sun. He could picture a thousand mornings spent just as they had this one, or perhaps instead of combing Carlos’ family homeland on horseback, they would promenade in Central Park among the birds and trees. They would walk arm in arm with no destination, just the inclination to be together in the bright spring air. He would utter some quip about the couple across the way just to hear the bells of TK’s laughter. TK would point out some high society maiden and they’d remark—under their breath of course—about the ridiculousness of her hat. At the end of each day they would return home together to sit by a roaring fire and talk into the night about everything and nothing before lying down beside each other and drifting into dreams that could do nothing to rival their waking lives.

The picture abruptly vanished at the thought of Fernando, however. Carlos was right, the man did not deserve to be slighted after all he’d done to assure Carlos of a life beyond his mother’s death and Rosa’s inheritance. Fernando was handsome, kind, and the catch of the century. Anyone would be envious of Carlos’ position.

Except Carlos.

Christina, who had been heretofore silent while her brother ruminated in his thoughts, finally sat beside him on the bed and slipped her arm into his, laying her head upon his shoulder.

“I know it’s not ideal, but you have to choose the path that puts your heart at ease, the one you can live with for the rest of your life. If you do that, you’ll be content. If you go against your own heart, you’ll never know peace.”

The problem was, Carlos couldn’t make sense of what his heart wanted in the slightest, and because of that he was frozen in indecision.