#spent my entire Memorial Day weekend writing about these two idiots

[littleoases]

The Beginning

Hannah and Baker’s first full day as girlfriends. HNITS verse. 7k. 

On that sunny June morning, when Hannah wakes up, she remembers everything is new.

It’s been less than 12 hours since Baker showed up at her house and told her she loved her. Less than 12 hours since Baker kissed her on the street, promising she’d come back first thing in the morning so they could keep talking. And it’s been less than 12 hours since Baker texted her goodnight for the first time in weeks and weeks.

Hannah stretches her arms out to the side, sighing like a love-struck girl in a goddamn movie or something, but she doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it. Everything is too real, too surreal, too incredible to believe. She wants to check her phone, because she knows Baker will be awake already and will have texted her first thing, but she delays it for a little while, savoring the feeling of lying in bed with the sun streaming through the curtains and the echo of Baker’s kiss still buzzing on her lips.

When she finally checks her phone, she finds a single text that makes her stomach warm over.

Hey you. Let me know when you’re up, and I’ll come make you coffee and pretend like I’m not nervous as hell (in the best way) about all this.

Wow, you’re nervous? How embarrassing, Hannah writes back.

Cute, Hannah-bear. Leaving now.

Hannah feels excited and giddy and springy and, whatever she tells Baker, definitely nervous as hell, as she rushes out of bed and into the bathroom. She knows she doesn’t have much time to get ready – Baker’s house is less than 10 minutes away – but the nice thing about falling for her best friend is that she doesn’t have to look perfect, especially when Baker has seen her in her pajamas a million times before.

She doesn’t have time to do more than brush her teeth, wash her face, and throw her hair up into a messy bun before there’s a soft knocking on the door downstairs. She races to answer it with a growing thrill in her stomach, her heartbeat fast and ready.

When she opens the door to find Baker standing there in a big t-shirt and old running shorts, her hair loose and long, all she can do is grin stupidly at her. It’s okay, though, because Baker grins, too, her eyes locked on Hannah’s.

“Hey,” Hannah says.

“Hey,” Baker says.

They hover on the threshold for a beat, and then Baker laughs and steps her way into the kitchen, looking like she’s not sure what to do next. Hannah’s not sure, either, and as she stands there with her whole body buzzing, she runs through the options in her head. Should they kiss hello? Is it okay if they just hug? Is it okay if they simply look at each other?

They’re both grinning self-consciously, and they are definitely, completely, totally nervous as hell, but Hannah feels a low level of calm beneath the nerves trilling in her skin. She can’t stop smiling no matter how hard she tries.

“So…” she says, affecting her joking voice, “I think you promised me coffee, right?”

Baker rolls her eyes but keeps grinning, her body loosening as she walks off toward the coffee maker. And Hannah knows it was the right thing to say, because now they have something to do, some little task to take care of as they settle into each other again.

“Did you sleep okay?” Hannah asks, coming to stand a few feet behind her.

Baker glances back at her as she rinses out the coffee pot and grabs a measuring spoon from the drawer. Hannah’s heart inflates just from watching her.

“Yeah, I really did, actually,” Baker says. “It was the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

“Oh, well, we should have dramatic heart-to-heart reconciliation walks more often, then,” Hannah teases.

Baker rolls her eyes again, but her smile is brighter than ever. “How did you sleep?”

“Great,” Hannah says, still grinning. She pauses, then adds, “I couldn’t wait to wake up this morning.”

“Because you love Mondays so much?”

“Because I couldn’t wait to see you,” Hannah says, unable to help herself, and Baker blushes and busies herself with measuring out coffee grounds.

Hannah picks out their coffee mugs, choosing Baker’s old favorite – a vintage LSU one – to hand to her. They stand a few feet apart by the coffee maker as it gurgles and sputters into action, filling the house with the comforting smell of dark roast. Hannah can tell that she and Baker are both itching to reach over and touch each other, but they’re still too nervous, too new. It was easier the night before, after they’d had their big conversation, but now, standing here in the daylight and realizing they’re about to leap into this new, unknown relationship, it feels so big and dazzling and wonderful that it’s almost a little disorienting, like staring into the sun.

It’s easier when they go into the family room. The couch is there, worn-in and comfy, and it’s easy to fall onto it together, just as they always have. Now they can sit right next to each other, their knees and elbows bumping as they tuck their legs up onto the seat.

“Here,” Hannah says, and she lays a blanket over them, taking care to tuck it around Baker’s legs. “What do you wanna watch?”

Baker looks right at her. “Literally anything. You could put QVC on, for all I care.”

Hannah smirks. She feels daring, brave, so she makes another joke even though it might be too much.

“Because you’re going to be focused on me, anyway?”

Baker looks at her, and she’s self-conscious, but she’s brave, too. “Is this what it’s gonna be like?” she asks, her eyes narrowed. “Am I going to have to endure constant jokes about how much I like you? Because I’m not embarrassed by that, just so you know. Not anymore.”

Hannah blushes deeper than she ever knew she could, and Baker looks incredibly pleased with herself.

“Uh-huh,” Baker says smugly, turning back to the TV, “thought so.”

It takes a full five minutes for Hannah’s stomach to stop whirring.

They end up watching The Today Show. Joanie is still asleep upstairs, so they keep the volume fairly low, and it’s oddly comforting just to sit there absorbing mindless chatter without pressure for either one of them to talk; for now, they can just be.

Baker scoots forward to set her coffee mug on the table, and when she leans back, she ends up closer to Hannah than before. Hannah can’t help but think she did it on purpose, and the thought makes her stomach whir all over again.

A minute later she feels Baker staring at something, clearly distracted. Hannah follows her line of sight, but it looks like Baker’s just staring at a random spot on Hannah’s lap.

“What?” Hannah asks her.

Baker shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says casually, but she’s clearly flustered; her cheeks are turning red.

“What?” Hannah presses.

Baker shakes her head again and looks back to the TV, but a moment later, she fishes Hannah’s hand out from under the blanket. For one silly, crazy second Hannah thinks Baker wants to check the time on her watch, but then she realizes –

Baker wants to hold her hand.

Hannah’s stomach whirs and tilts and hopscotches. Baker interlocks their fingers, blushing scarlet, her eyes still on the TV.

Hannah could describe Baker’s hands in her sleep – her smooth, olive-colored skin; her long, slender wrists – but she’s not used to seeing one of Baker’s hands intertwined with her own. They’d held hands at the hospital, sure, and they’d held hands last night when they were walking around the Garden District, but both those times had felt necessary and stabilizing in the midst of such a heavy conversation. This right now, while they’re watching TV and drinking coffee, just feels sweet and tender and – there’s no other word for it – romantic.

“Got another joke lined up?” Baker asks shyly, her eyes still on the screen.

“No,” Hannah says quietly, and before she can think too much about it, she lays her head on Baker’s shoulder. Baker seems to tighten for a moment, but she quickly relaxes and nestles further into Hannah.

And it’s so nice. So nice.

The Today Show plays on, but Hannah is only paying attention to Baker – to her breathing, the smell of her hair, and the way she smooths her thumb against Hannah’s hand every few minutes.

“Did you eat anything?” Baker asks softly.  

“No.”

“Can I make you some eggs?”

Hannah squeezes her hand. “Really?”

Baker laughs. “Don’t act like I’ve never made you breakfast before.”

“Not after holding my hand, you haven’t.”

Baker cooks them scrambled eggs, making extra so Joanie can have some later. She stands over the stove, one hand on her hip as she moves the spatula around, and Hannah can’t help it: she comes up behind her and wraps her arms around her waist.

“Hannah,” Baker says shyly, her entire body tense, “don’t make me burn your eggs.”

“We have more,” Hannah says, squeezing her middle, and after a moment Baker relaxes and drops her head back against Hannah’s. Hannah has an aching urge to kiss her shoulder, or her ear, or something, but it still feels too early for all that, so she just laughs instead.

“What?” Baker asks.

“Nothing. Just—crazy, huh?”

“Super crazy.”

Hannah releases her. “Don’t burn my eggs.”

Baker shoots her a pretend-annoyed look, and it’s so flirtatious, and Hannah wonders how it took them this long.

They eat on the back porch, sitting on the rocking bench and listening to the birds. It’s starting to get hot out, but the overhang from the house keeps them secluded in shade.

“How’d it go when you got home last night?” Hannah asks. “Did your parents know you were over here?”

“Yeah, I told them. My mom knows I’m here today, too.”

“Is she okay with it?”

Baker digs her toast into her eggs. “I think it’s going to take her a while,” she says evenly. “I’m trying to be honest without overwhelming her. I mean, I’m still trying to be honest with myself, too, so…”

Hannah wants to hold her hand again, but they’re both using their hands to eat. She settles for bumping Baker’s shoulder with her own instead. “We’ll go slowly, Bake. Everything’ll be okay.”

“Do your parents know I was here last night?”

“Joanie told them while we were out walking, but I haven’t gotten to talk to them yet. I’ll stage a little chat after they get home from work today, I guess.”

For a moment, Baker looks noticeably distressed.

“What’s wrong?” Hannah asks.

“Are your parents going to be okay with it? I mean, not just the girl thing, but…after I…did everything I did?”

“Baker,” Hannah says softly, “of course they will be. I didn’t give them all the details, but they know enough about the big picture, and they get it. You’re my best friend. They love you.”

“Okay.”

“How long are you gonna punish yourself for?”

Baker smiles self-consciously. “As long as you let me.”

“Look at me. Hey, look at me. I realize everything’s not going to be perfect right away, but do you even realize how much progress we’ve made? Everything’s going to be okay now, so we just have to forget the yucky stuff, forgive each other, and move forward. It’s good things from here on out. We just held hands on the couch for 15 minutes, remember?”

Baker lets out a small, grateful laugh. “I remember. How could I not, when yours was so sweaty?”

Hannah drops her mouth open, pretending to be deeply insulted. “You did not just say that.”

Baker hikes an eyebrow. “I think, Hannah-bear, that I did.”

Hannah stares her down, and Baker stares back, and eventually Hannah has to break eye contact because looking into Baker’s dark brown eyes for so long makes her feel lightheaded and drunk. She shakes her head and steals the last bite of Baker’s toast instead.

Baker must know how she’s feeling. “Is this, like, equal parts amazing and terrifying to you?” she asks.

“100 percent.”

“Okay, good, me too.”

“You know what’s weird? When we get annoyed with each other, or have little mini-dramas or whatever, we’re going to have to find other people to play the best friend role to listen to us, since we’re each other’s best friends.”

Baker laughs. “Wanna know something weird? I’ve already had that thought.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Like, the next time you inevitably annoy me—” Hannah pretends to be insulted again; Baker teasingly mirrors her expression—“it won’t just be as my friend, it’ll be as my…well, I don’t know, we’ll figure that out…but I’ll have to call my brother or something, because I won’t be able to whine about you to you.”

“I’ll just whine about you to Joanie,” Hannah says.

Baker laughs. “Can’t wait,” she says, and then she sets their empty plates on the ground and grabs for Hannah’s hand, unabashedly playing with her fingers and setting Hannah’s stomach hopping again.

Joanie wakes up soon after they go back inside. She trudges down to the kitchen, still bleary-eyed with sleep, and greets them with a dry, “Wow, I’m shocked to see y’all hanging out already. How long did that take?”

“Shut up,” Hannah tells her. “Baker made you eggs.”

“Ugh, I love you, Baker,” Joanie says, pulling a stool up to the counter. “Even more than Hannah does.”

“Shut up,” Hannah says again, rolling her eyes, but she can’t help smiling when she sees the look on Baker’s face.  

“Oh, lord,” Joanie says, looking put-upon at Hannah’s reaction, “this is gonna be the longest summer ever. This is a million times worse than when y’all were best friends.”

“We’re still best friends, idiot,” Hannah says.

“Yeah, but now you’re all in love, too,” Joanie says with distaste.

Both Hannah and Baker blush, trying not to look at each other, but to Hannah’s surprise, Baker responds.

“We’ll do our best to hide it from you,” she says, pouring Joanie a cup of coffee, and Joanie’s relaxed laugh is one of Hannah’s favorite things that day.

They decide to get out of the house, which means Hannah has to change out of her pajamas. Baker comes upstairs with her and stands in her doorway for a long moment, gazing into the room, until Hannah bumps her shoulder and asks, “What?”

“I haven’t seen your room in forever.”

It’s another one of those moments where they could slip into the bad stuff – into heartbreak and apologies and regret – but, maybe because of the conversation they just had on the back porch, they don’t go there. Instead, Baker squeezes Hannah’s hand, looking knowingly at her, until Hannah smiles and pulls them both into the room.

Baker sits on the bed while Hannah rummages through her drawers, pulling out clothes. It’s familiar as anything, except that Hannah’s not sure how to change in front of her now. Should she just turn into the corner? Go into the bathroom? Should she make a joke that Baker’s seen her naked before so none of it matters anyway? Somehow, that last one doesn’t feel right; something in her knows they have to work their way back up to that intimacy.

Baker decides for her. “I won’t look,” she says, angling her body away and distracting herself with her cell phone.

Even that feels intimate, because it’s an acknowledgment that they consider each other’s bodies differently than they did before. Hannah pulls her clothes on quickly, her nerves humming just from the awareness that Baker is there in the room with her.

She sits next to Baker on the bed when she’s finished. Baker looks up from her phone right away, smiling warmly at her.

“My favorite shirt,” Baker says, fixing the tag on Hannah’s collar.

Hannah laughs. “The fact that you have a favorite shirt of mine probably should’ve been a big hint.”

“Seriously. This feels like learning the truth of a murder mystery and then going back and seeing how it was so obvious all along.”

“Did you just compare us to a murder mystery?”

“Don’t overanalyze it.”

Hannah feels the question coming out before she can stop it – a question she’s debated since the night of Baker’s fall – and for a split-second she worries it’s too much. But they’re calm, they’re on the same wavelength, and it feels like part of the healing process to dissect these things anyway, so she allows herself to ask.

“When did you know?”

She expects Baker to look away, but she doesn’t; instead she holds Hannah’s eyes, her expression thoughtful.

“After Tyler’s party in Destin,” she says, much quicker than Hannah anticipates. “When you—um—” she blushes—“when you kissed me in the garage. I chocked it up to a fluke before that, but after that second kiss, it was… I mean, my whole rationalization fell apart. After that, I just knew. I could feel it in my gut.”

“Yeah.”

“But looking back, there were times before that when it should have been obvious. Like last summer, when you told me about kissing Wally on the dock, I was so jealous I just wanted to hit something, but I didn’t even realize that’s what it was.” She shakes her head, scowling. “Even thinking about it now makes me jealous.”

Hannah laughs a deep belly-laugh. “Really?”

Baker rolls her eyes. “Don’t get a big head, Han. When did you know?”

“Mardi Gras.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I tried to rationalize it, too, but I wasn’t very good at convincing myself.”

Baker is silent for a long moment. Hannah waits.

“We’ve been through some shit,” Baker says baldly.  

Hannah laughs hard again, not least because it’s uncharacteristic of Baker to curse. “Yeah. Yeah, we have.”

“Can I take you to lunch to make up for it?”

“Like a date?” Hannah teases.

Baker shakes her head like she can’t believe what a pain in the ass Hannah is, but she’s blushing and smiling bigger than ever. “Yes, Hannah, like a date. A day-date.”

“You’re so forward, Baker. First you hold my hand, now you want to buy me lunch…”

Baker springs off the bed, holding her hand out to pull Hannah up, too. “Come here,” she says.

Hannah’s stomach coils. She allows Baker to pull her up, and for a heart-stopping second she thinks they might kiss, but all Baker does is pull her close and wrap her arms around her.

It takes Hannah a second to loosen up, but when she does, it feels like she’s melting into Baker’s embrace. Baker’s hands are gripping the back of her t-shirt, holding her tight.

“I love you,” Baker says suddenly, her voice shaking the slightest bit. “I just wanted to say that again, now that I can.”

Hannah has to catch her breath; she feels like whole body is lit up with electricity. “I love you, too,” she says, her own voice sounding new and different.

Baker steps away, looking shy and self-conscious. “Um. Zeeland?”

“Zeeland,” Hannah agrees.

It’s the first time she’s been in Baker’s car in ages, and the realization hits her with a bittersweet jab to her stomach. The interior smells like vanilla air freshener, just as it always has, and the cup holders and dashboard are as clean and spotless as ever.

“I missed your car,” Hannah says as they drive under the tall, towering trees.

Baker shoots her a sad smile. “You have no idea how many times I wished you were in that exact spot.”

They sit in their favorite booth at Zeeland, stealing bites of collard greens and sweet potato soufflé off each other’s plates, and the only thing that feels different is that a junior from their school is sitting several booths over with her mom and is clearly trying not to look at them. Hannah feels knots in her chest, wishing their first outing together didn’t have to involve running into someone they know, and she can tell Baker’s wishing the same thing.

“We can go, if you want,” Hannah tells her.

“No,” Baker says resolutely. “I mean, not unless you want to. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just feels weird.”

“Yeah, feels like I’m outside my own skin.” Baker frowns for a second, but then she looks up at Hannah and her face softens. “But this is what I want, so…small price to pay.”

Hannah’s stomach whirs again.

They go to the bookstore after that, sticking close to each other in the aisles even as they lose their attention in different books. Hannah is absorbed in the first few pages of a Zadie Smith novel when she feels Baker brushing up behind her, peering over her shoulder. For a second Baker just hovers there, right at her side, and then she runs her hand over Hannah’s waist almost like she can’t help it, like she was compelled to touch Hannah in some way. It only lasts for a second, but it sets Hannah’s whole body on fire.

“You’re kind of a flirt, Bake,” Hannah tells her in the parking lot.

Baker laughs brightly. “Had a lot of stored up energy, I guess.”

On the drive back to Hannah’s house, as Hannah’s rambling about which new novel she wants to read first, Baker reaches for her hand again. It takes Hannah by surprise as much as it had on the couch that morning, probably because holding hands in the car feels so goddamn grown-up, and she shuts up instantly.

“Is this okay?” Baker asks in an uncertain voice, glancing over at her.

Hannah’s stomach is swooping and dancing all over the place. Another daring impulse comes over her, and she kisses the back of Baker’s hand before she loses her nerve.

Baker blushes scarlet again, and it’s clear she’s fighting a smile.

Joanie’s either not there or holed up in her bedroom when they get home. The house is quiet and still except for the hum of the air conditioner.

“What do you wanna do?” Baker asks.

“I have to water the flowers,” Hannah says, remembering the chore her dad had given her for the week, “and then how about we watch a movie?”

“You got it. I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Hannah,” Baker says, grabbing her wrist playfully, “how many years have you been telling me that, and how many times do I have to tell you that I want to help?”

“I know you do,” Hannah laughs, tugging her hand to lead them out on the porch, “but I have to say it anyway.”

Watering the flowers takes no more than five minutes, and before Hannah’s even done, Baker has ducked into the house and come back with two tall glasses of water for them to drink. They sit on the porch steps, the hose curled up next to Hannah’s feet, the sun hot on their hair.

“I love summer,” Baker says, staring out at the yard. “Even though it’s ridiculously hot and humid all the time, it’s like the flowers and trees don’t give a damn and decide to keep blooming anyway.”

Hannah feels a sudden rush of happiness as she lets everything settle over her: the lush, green yard and the tall, gnarled oaks and the wonder of Baker sitting there beside her. She sets her water glass down and scoots closer to Baker, knocking her knee and taking one of her hands into her own.

“This is gonna be our best summer yet, I can tell,” Hannah says.

Baker looks over at her, smiling the same kind of smile that Hannah feels in her chest. For a second they just look at each other, and Hannah knows they’re feeling the same thing: overwhelming gratitude and awe.

Then Baker reaches over and brushes Hannah’s hair back from her neck, and chills erupt on Hannah’s skin. She looks into Baker’s eyes and sees that familiar yearning expression in them, and she knows exactly what Baker’s thinking.

“You can kiss me if you want to,” Hannah tells her. “You’re allowed.”

Baker reddens, but she doesn’t look away. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m still getting used to that.”

Hannah smiles lightly. “We have lots of time to get used to it.”

“It makes you nervous too, right?”

“Super nervous.”

Baker nods. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day, but I also…I don’t know…I don’t want to rush it. I want it to be special.”

“We don’t have to rush anything,” Hannah promises. “We have all the time in the world.”

Baker looks intently between Hannah’s mouth and her eyes, unabashedly taking her in. Hannah looks back at her, and the truth of her own words sinks in. For the first time, she knows they’re going to kiss and that she doesn’t have to feel anxious about it. It’s a drastic difference from the urgency she felt this past spring, when everything was frenzied and furtive and she couldn’t enjoy the simple luxury of just looking at Baker first. Now she can look at Baker as much as she wants, taking in her lips and her eyes and that fire in her expression, savoring her slowly and wholly.

They wait, and they wait, and then Baker doesn’t wait any longer. She leans in and kisses Hannah very, very softly, almost like she’s saying hello.

Hannah’s heart skips a beat. She kisses Baker back, just as softly, and when she pulls away Baker’s blushing again.

“Our first daylight kiss,” Hannah tells her.

Baker smiles. “Makes it pretty real, doesn’t it?”

“There’s no going back now.”

“It’s weird, like, that we can just do it if we want to.”

Hannah raises her eyebrows, unable to resist the joke, and Baker rolls her eyes and shoves Hannah’s arm.

“You’re the worst,” Baker tells her.

“Yeah, but you told me you love me, so.”

“I do love you,” Baker says easily, leaning in to kiss her again. Her kiss is bolder this time, like she’s truly letting herself do what she wants; she cups her hands along Hannah’s jaw so her kiss is even firmer, and Hannah reels from it.

“Jesus,” Hannah says, breathless, when Baker pulls away.

“No, I’m Baker.”

Hannah laughs out loud, feeling like she might combust from all the good things swirling inside of her, and Baker grins like she couldn’t be more pleased with herself.

“That was a total Hannah joke,” Baker says. “I knew you’d love it.”

“You were right. Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

Inside, in the welcome air conditioning, they settle on the couch and throw on an early-2000s rom com to keep them company. For the first few minutes they sit there quietly, not in a charged way like they had that morning, but in a relaxed and worn-in way that feels comfortable and right. They reach for each other’s hands automatically, like it’s something they’ve been doing for years rather than hours.

Ten minutes into the movie, Hannah asks a question.

“Do you care if I lie down?”

Baker only smiles at her.

Hannah had meant that she wanted to lay her head in Baker’s lap, but Baker comes up with something better: she gestures for Hannah to lie on her side, and seconds later Baker is lying down behind her, with her arm wrapped over Hannah’s stomach, spooning her. It might be Hannah’s favorite thing yet.

“My stomach keeps swooping,” Hannah admits.

Baker buries her face in Hannah’s neck; Hannah can feel her lips on her skin. “Mine, too,” she sighs.  

“Are you tired?”

“No. A little.”

“Take a nap, Bake.”

Baker holds her tighter, but after a few minutes her arm loosens and her breathing evens out. Hannah listens to her sleep, feeling her chest rising and falling against her back, and Hannah’s stomach is never going to calm down.

When Baker wakes up sometime near the end of the movie, Hannah rotates in her arms until she’s looking into her eyes. She brushes her fingers against Baker’s hairline, where the cuts from her fall are finally starting to fade.

“How do you feel?” Hannah asks.

“Safe,” Baker says, rubbing her eyes. “And happy.”

“Me too. Crazy happy.”

Baker touches Hannah’s face, trailing a finger across her cheek, down her nose. She hesitates, and then she smooths her thumb against Hannah’s bottom lip. They both blush. They both smile.

“I can’t believe I’ve kissed you,” Baker says. “And I can’t believe I can do it again, like, whenever I want.”

“Yeah, and we can feel good about it.”

“You know what’s funny?”

“Hm?”

“Kissing you those few times—before last night, I mean—it was always amazing, but—when we weren’t talking, when I was trying to stop myself from liking you—it was the rest of your face I wanted to kiss more than anything.”

“The rest of my face?”

“Hear me out. I got to kiss you, right, but it was always…I mean…it was like a hook-up. We were always drunk. But I wanted to kiss you like I loved you, even if I couldn’t admit it. I wanted to kiss your forehead and nose and eyes and—I don’t know, Hannah, sometimes I’d imagine it and just feel all these butterflies in my stomach.”

Hannah thinks she might melt right then and there. “I know what you mean. Even after—um—all the stuff we did at the beach—I just kept thinking about holding you.”

Baker’s eyes are sad but loving. She pulls Hannah close and kisses her eyes, nose, and cheeks, slowly and carefully, like Hannah is something precious. “I love you,” she says softly.

Hannah’s throat feels thick, and she knows her eyes are watering. Baker smiles knowingly at her.

“Don’t be smug,” Hannah tells her.

Baker just smiles more. She traces Hannah’s lips again, and the look in her eyes is so open, so loving, that Hannah can’t help it: she presses close and kisses Baker in a slow, languid way, not like a hook-up, but like she loves her.

When she draws back, Baker’s eyes are still closed, like she’s trying to hold onto the kiss.

“Do that again,” she whispers.

So Hannah does.

They never venture into full-on making out—Hannah knows, instinctively, that they’re not quite ready to do that again—but for infinite minutes they lie there on the couch, holding each other close, gently kissing each other whenever they feel like it, and it’s the most miraculous feeling in the world.

Until they both have to pee, of course.

“You can go first,” Hannah tells Baker.

Baker smirks. “Chivalrous of you, Han.”

“Have to be. You’re not just my best friend anymore.”

Baker laughs as she pads off to the bathroom. “Let’s trademark that!” she calls behind her.

By that point, it’s well into the early evening, which means Hannah’s parents will be coming home soon. Hannah folds up the blanket and re-fluffs the couch pillows, figuring they might as well get a head-start on acting ‘normal’ around other people.

But then Baker comes back from the bathroom, loops an arm around Hannah’s waist, and kisses her cheek in the sweetest, tenderest way possible, and Hannah doesn’t think they stand a chance of acting normal ever again.

Her mom comes home first, lugging grocery bags in through the back door, and Hannah and Baker rush over from the counter to help her. Hannah knows Baker’s nervous about seeing her parents—she’s been distracted and fidgety for the last half-hour—but she also knows Baker wants to start things off right, and that means sticking around to talk to them even if she’s afraid.

Within five seconds of her mom handing over the grocery bags, Hannah can see Baker’s anxiety melt away, because the first thing Hannah’s mom does is smile and pull Baker into a hug. “We’ve been missing you around here,” she says. “How are you feeling?”

She holds Baker at arm’s length, examining her with genuine concern, and Hannah feels such a surge of love for her mom that she wonders how she’s still rooted to the floor.  

“I’m feeling really good,” Baker grins. “Thanks, Mrs. Eaden.”

Hannah can tell her mom isn’t sure where the two of them stand, or how that might impact the dynamic they’re all used to with Baker, so Hannah takes the lead and says, “Mom, would it be okay if Baker stayed for dinner?”

“Of course,” Hannah’s mom says, and she looks a little nervous, a little unsure, but she covers it with a smile and a request that they set the table, and everything feels just as it always has.

When Hannah’s dad gets home from work, he does the most uncharacteristic thing ever and hugs Baker just like Hannah’s mom did. He doesn’t say much about it, but Hannah knows both she and Baker are more touched than her dad will ever know.

And then Joanie, of course, comes flouncing down the stairs and blurts out, “Oh, good! So everyone knows now!”, which makes Baker’s face burn and prompts Hannah’s parents to exchange uncertain looks.

“Thanks, Joanie, for your superb sense of tact,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Mom, Dad, um…Baker and I are…um…well, remember how you said you were praying for me to find love?”

Baker is positively scarlet now, and Hannah hopes she won’t kill her for this rather bold announcement.

But Hannah’s dad just chuckles and says, “I’m glad I don’t have to meet anyone new,” while Hannah’s mom’s way of dealing with it is to say, “Joanie, don’t embarrass them,” before she touches Baker’s shoulder briefly.

Hannah and Baker definitely don’t hold hands during dinner, and they don’t look at each other very often or very long, and Hannah’s parents are somewhat out of their element, but it’s still better than Hannah imagined. She can tell everyone’s going to need some time to get used to this - even Joanie, for all her bravado - but she feels strangely at peace about it.

After dinner, when Hannah’s parents go out to have a coffee on the back porch—with Hannah’s mom adding a very awkward and hasty “Don’t go upstairs…at least not until we figure out some new rules”—Hannah and Baker clean up the dinner dishes together, both of them more subdued than earlier in the day. Hannah knows Baker’s not mad at her for telling her parents, but she also knows she’s a little overwhelmed by it.

“Hey,” Hannah says, flicking water at her, “you okay?”

Baker takes her time drying a saucepan. “Praying for you to find love, huh?” she asks.

Hannah returns her half-smirk. “That’s literally what they said.”

“You really think they’re okay with this?”

“In theory, yeah. In practice? It’s gonna take some time.”

Baker nods. She tucks the saucepan away, then says, “It’s kind of funny that your mom told us not to go upstairs.”

“If she only knew…” Hannah says, “She would’ve told me not to go the beach this past April.”

“Hannah,” Baker says, looking away and blushing hard, and Hannah blushes too, and in that moment she feels the depth of her intimacy with Baker, the well of their shared secrets and private history.

“Sorry,” Hannah says, though she’s not. She flicks more water at Baker, just to keep the moment light.

They take a drive after that. They walk around the lakes, occasionally brushing arms, and Baker is so beautiful in the light of the setting sun that Hannah feels her heart in her throat every time she looks at her.

“We get to do this every day,” Hannah says, full of wonder.

“Can you believe it?”

“No, it’s surreal.”

“There’s so much more stuff to talk about, Han,” Baker says. “Good stuff, bad stuff…” She pauses. “Intimate stuff…”

Hannah swallows. The lingering echo of her joke in the kitchen stretches between them, and she knows they’re both back in that third-floor bedroom at the beach house, in the moment that turned everything on its head.

“It’s kind of insane, isn’t it?” she asks Baker. “That we’ve been together that way?”

Baker chances a look at her. “It makes me light headed just thinking about it.” She takes a deep breath. “It was the most incredible, most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.”

Hannah can’t believe they’re actually talking about this. “Yeah, me too. It was like an out-of-body experience.”

Baker gives her a half-smile. “Kind of makes kissing seem like no big deal, doesn’t it?”

Hannah shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly, “kissing you feels like the biggest deal in the world. The other stuff is…I mean…we don’t even need to worry about it right now. Holding your hand this morning felt just as intimate and important as that stuff did, if not more so.”

Baker is silent for several paces. Then, in a bare voice, she says, “Hannah, I think you’re the most amazing, most loving person in the entire world. Do you know that?”

Hannah’s heart drums inside her. She turns to find Baker watching her with an open, dazzled expression on her face. “I think that about you, too, Baker,” she says.

Baker shakes her head in a daze. She smiles like she can’t help it.

“What?” Hannah asks, grinning.

“What do you mean, ‘What’? This has been, like, the best day of my life.”

Hannah squeezes her side, even though they’re out in the world for everyone to see. “Mine, too,” she says, “but I bet you tomorrow will be even better.”

They walk until darkness falls, and then Baker drives Hannah back to her house. She slides her gearshift into Park and looks over at Hannah, and suddenly she’s shy again.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous about kissing me goodnight,” Hannah says.

Baker doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course I am,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You are, too, I can tell.”

“A little,” Hannah laughs. “But mostly I just don’t want to say goodnight at all.”

“Me neither. You know, it was kind of dumb of you to tell your parents about us. We could’ve gotten away with some sleepovers.”

Hannah groans. “We could’ve cuddled all night.”

“Yep. So think about that when you’re alone tonight.”

“Don’t be a brat,” Hannah laughs, reaching for her hand.

“Can I come wake you up tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“So…kissing…” Hannah says.

Baker laughs and squeezes her hand. “We’re so dumb. Like, I was just kissing you a few hours ago, but now I’m scared of it again.”

“Well, to be fair, you were the brave one last night, so…I’ll get this one.”

She leans over and kisses Baker, slow and lingering, until they’re both breathless.

“I love you,” she tells her.

Baker leans her forehead against Hannah’s. “I love you, too, Han. So much.”

“Have sweet dreams, okay?”

“You too, Hannah-bear.”

Hannah kisses her one more time, and just before she pulls away, Baker steadies her and kisses her eyes, one after the other.

“Love you,” she says again, in the softest voice Hannah’s heard yet.

And then Hannah scoots out of her car and stands by the backdoor to watch her go, smiling like an idiot but not even caring.

Her mom gives her a look when she comes inside. They hash out the new rules quickly, and it’s awkward and stilted and completely foreign to both of them, but it’s also everything Hannah could only dream of a few weeks ago. Before she heads up the stairs to her room, she hugs her mom in a way she hasn’t since she was a little kid.

“Thank you,” she tells her.

“I want you to be happy,” her mom says.

“I am,” Hannah says, unable to keep the smile off her face.

Upstairs, in the privacy of her bedroom, Hannah flops on her bed and lets every small miracle of the day wash over her. It was only a few weeks ago that she was nursing her broken heart between these four walls, but now she’s retreating into this space to savor all the beautiful little ways her heart is expanding.

She washes her face, she brushes her teeth, she slips on her pajamas and burrows into bed. And just when she’s about to settle in with a book or a TV show, her phone chimes with a text message, and she already knows who it’s from.

I love you, and I loved today, and I love that I’ll get to see you tomorrow.

Hannah closes her eyes, letting this feeling sweep over her, the whole sweet promise of Baker and their new relationship.

I love you more, she writes back. Sleep well, okay?

You too, Hannah-bear. Or should I say…You too, Not Just My Best Friend Anymore.

Hannah laughs aloud, the sound ringing in the darkness. When she finally falls asleep some hours later—after re-living every single moment she and Baker shared today—she cannot wait to wake up again.

...

...

...

(In case you missed it, here’s the other HNITS one-shot I uploaded yesterday. Takes place a month after the events of this one.) 

[fictionissocialinquiry]

FISI’s Favourite Zutara Fics

A lil late for ZFAW’s Saturday prompt, sorry about that! Haven’t had any internet over the weekend. But better late than never!

I’m not gonna lie… a lot of these are angsty af. But I promise you they’re not gratuitous angst! They’re well written, beautiful stories that will make you feel like a better person for having read them. These are my favourite all time fics, ones I’ve read more than once and will continue to read (even though I’m taking a week break from fandom and fic).

 Multi-Chaptered Fics

The Sparrowkeet Series by audreyii_fic

To be honest, this story’s summary doesn’t do it justice so I ain’t including it. Originally a one shot, Sparrowkeet is headcanon for me now. Move over canon, this is where it’s at. Audreyii_fic’s characterisation, world building, and writing is exquisite. It’s incredible. She manages to channel the same fun and whimsical energy from the show while allowing the characters to grow and develop to places I wish they had actually been taken.

This one is a fandom Must Read and one I return to regularly.

 Clothe Me in Seasons, Dress Me in Snow by sadladybug

It is not the memorial she deserves, nor the one she would want. But it can't be helped. He owns no property in the other nations, and he needed to keep her close. Closer than she was in life, anyway.

Zuko's reflections on a life lived and a life that could have been.

This is one of the best written fics I’ve ever read. It’s tragic and deep and will hurt you in all the tender places but you would be doing yourself a favour if you read this. There’s a real bittersweet feeling to it and the love between them is just… urg, visceral.

 Lovable by LadyCharity

Zuko knew that he could not save Azula. He could only try to forgive her. Fittingly enough, those two were one in the same.

I love stories that make Zutara their centerpiece but every now but then a story like this comes along. A story where their relationship builds almost incidentally because the plot and character development straight up hijack your emotions. I got so invested in this story. Zuko is amazingly well characterised and his complicated thoughts and feelings around his father and Azula are incredibly well written!

 One Shots

Lunar Ephemerality by @formerlygoldilocks (goldilocks23)

After multiple failed attempts on his life and years of self-set expectations, Fire Lord Zuko is a shell of the man he used to be. But Katara won't turn her back on those who need her.

I really didn’t expect this to hit as hard as it did. This straight up snuck up on me, fly-kicked my feelings, and by the end I had written an 800 word comment that was too big for AO3 and I had to contact the author directly to send it to her. Awkward. I couldn’t help myself. The side to Katara we see here is so good, her empathy and love for her friends are one of the things I love seeing most in AtLA fanfic. I’m a sucker for Zuko having complete breakdowns and having to piece himself back together too. So sue me. I like it when they suffer a lil bit. The writing is absurdly good and I will be keeping an eye out for any new stories by goldilocks23!

 31 Minutes by @ifyouwereamelodymeg

It's quite astounding, really, how quickly she's learned to translate him. They've spent a grand total of zero time together outside of training, and he's hardly big on chat so she knows next to nothing about his life.

But she knows him, probably better than she knows anyone at the moment – with every tap of his fingers, every crook of his lips, every turn in his voice, he just...

He makes sense to her. It's weird.

I’m a sucker for fic writers playing with style to make the story pop and boyo does this fic deliver. This is one of the rare times that I’ve been dumbstruck at the end of a story— I just couldn’t accept the ending. Because I’m a sucker for pain, (and this story will bring The Pain) I loved it. The ease of Zuko and Katara’s growing relationship in this bowls you over, it’s absolutely beautiful and you find yourself nodding along emphatically when Zuko calls himself an idiot for waiting… “Life’s short, kids, live each moment as though it could be your last,” says this fic as it pulls my heart out and dropkicks it off a cliff.

 i count to five (and life passes by) by @markedmage

Five heartbeats.

I still haven’t forgiven Mage for this one. I think it’s the best thing she’s written to date! I mean, tragic and painful and heart-rending but holy shit is it powerful <3

 The Lake of the Dismal Swamp by @thewhiitelotus

Spook af. Spook (horror) is real hard to do well but thewhiitelotus is coming for your goosebumps and those shivers down your spine. She has a way of balancing beautiful, evocative imagery with action (in this and other stories of her) that just keeps you reading!

 Calloused by @rideboldlyride

Iroh hadn’t been able to watch. The pure horror of a man - a father- burning their child for a slight infraction... He couldn’t do anything to stop it, but he will stop his brother from destroying entirely the kind boy he knew Zuko could be.

This is a painfully underappreciated fic for how great the characterisation is. I know we in the zutara fandom tend to not read stories that aren’t Zuko/Katara centric as often but do yourself the favour of reading this (or listening to it: RideBoldlyRide has done us the gift of recording a podfic for this and it’s stupidly *good*). This story is Iroh confronting Ozai just after he burns Zuko’s face and it kicks.

 four days and three nights by @hinaoyamas (lettersfromnowhere)

Zuko discovers firsthand that nothing is more fleeting than happiness, or more enduring than memory.

Do you like reading stories with a distant, omniscient narrator? The kind that read like a myth from the ancient world? Welp, hit the hyperlink, friend, cause this one’s for you. Not only is the writing exquisite but the characterisation and painful inevitability of the plot is grade A.

 For the Fire Nation by tullyblue12

He falls in love with her for his country before he falls in love with her for himself. A Zuko/Katara AU that explores how love and duty aren’t always mutually exclusive.

There are about 40,000 exquisite lines in this story but here is just one of my favourites: “He falls in love with her for his country first. That’s what his people never understand.” This fic says a lot with so few words, which is something I really look up to! In 2,800 words, tullyblue12 does what some 100,000k fics cant: They make you feel.

 Guide Me Home by Rashaka

To sleep, perchance to dream. Katara and Zuko find a friendship they never expected in a place that seemed impossible.

This is a one shot I will forever wish for a continuation of. The setup is just… so juicy. There’s a real sorrowful innocence to this story that the unique short, dialogue only scenes really punch home. I know some people don’t like dialogue only fics but when done well like in this one, it leaves you with the impression of something deeper than a 1,185 word fic has any right to! 

 Other Favourites!

Hopeless by tullyblue12 — Kids grow up fast when a cruel world awaits them. In times of hopelessness, Katara and Zuko grow together. In times of separation, they hope to see each other again.

Speechless by goldilocks23 — Zuko has a medical condition. Or: Zuko speaks in haiku at inappropriate times.

Don’t Follow Me Down by eleventy7 — Katara is the dread queen of the underworld, ruler of the dead, destined to reign her cold kingdom alone. Until a sun god catches her eye. A Hades/Persephone retelling with incredible writing.

I Don't Speak Meow Language by @botherkupo (Boogum) — In which Zuko adopts a cat and Katara just wonders what spirits she pissed off to deserve this fate.

I have the privilege of being friends with some of these authors (they know who they are) and am in near daily awe and gratitude for the works of free fiction they provide us, the fandom. And not just any old stories: Guys... Really good ones!! Can I ask that if you go check out these fics, can you just drop a kudos or a comment their way? If you’re feeling shy just copy and paste this into the comments box anonymously: “WOW! Loved this! Thank you so much for writing it!”

I know it would mean the world to this talented bunch <3

[sweeethinny]

Still Into You

''Pack your bags, we are going to travel on Friday.'' Harry informs her as soon as Ginny enters their house, carrying a good amount of folders and papers that will help her better understand what to write in the next report on fraud in the Quidditch.

‘’Hm… what?’’ She sent everything upstairs, taking off her coat and shoes, with each move followed by Harry, who looks very much like a child who just knew he was going to get a gift.

''Let's travel. I got a portal key for us. Let's go to Tuscany.’’

‘’When did you decide that?’’ Ginny leaned over him on the couch and kissed him, affectionately and with a longing that didn’t even seem like they had lunch together a few hours ago. The silence that followed for the minutes they were clinging like two teenagers, was strange and, at the same time, good. The kids were all at Hogwarts less than a month ago, but they hadn't had quality time to enjoy the silence and privacy they had lost almost 15 years ago.

‘’This afternoon.’’ Harry pulled her onto his lap, his arms around her waist as he spread kisses along the side of her neck, intoxicated with the scent that danced in his nostrils. It had been so long since they had a moment just for them, that Ginny was slow to relax and enjoy the caresses, without fearing that any of the children would invade the room demanding attention.

‘’And what made you schedule a trip to Italy, may I know?’’ She let herself be graced and lying on their soft gray sofa, which they had bought a few years ago, on a trip to Spain. They never got to have sex there, just a few kisses, but today Ginny felt ready not to go up to the room.

''Let's enjoy our time alone,'' Harry said, his head hidden in the curvature of her neck, kissing and nibbling at her skin, while his hands roamed her chest, belly and waist, opening the buttons of the off-white shirt she was wearing it, and taking it out of her pants, to then open the pants that Ginny was wearing. ‘’We’re going to travel, see other places, wake up late… have sex in peace.’’ He smiled when he felt his wife tremble under his hot, heavy body.

‘’I thought you were going to participate in the training of the new Aurors, over the weekend.’’ She reminded him, smiling at the memory of when she snooped on Harry training; sweating, without a shirt, with a red chest and hair. It had been a sight she used a lot, when they spent a lot of time away from each other.

''No, I let Joane deal with them, she has a lot more patience than I have.'' Harry tossed Ginny's shirt away, lowering his head and kissing her freckled bust, both hands wrapped around her breasts hidden by the beige bra, which wasn’t even that pretty, but that Harry seemed amazed at the view.

''For those who have three kids and a godson, you're a guy with little patience.'' Ginny laughed at the tickle when he nibbled her breast gently, taking a hand behind her and undoing it the button with the mastery of someone who has done that for years.

‘’My children don’t give me even a third of the work that the new Aurors do. They are always so dreamy and annoying, and they hate it when I tell them that in real work, it's a lot less field than school makes it seem, and more boring and paperwork.'' He looked up, emerald green eyes the same color as the stone Ginny chose for their wedding ring, shining in her direction, while the  sun bathed their bodies through the huge windows facing the back of the house, where the sunset painted the sky with shades of orange, pink and purple. ''Besides, between staying with more than 50 young people who have just left school, who can barely look me in the eye, stuck in the training shed, stinking of sweat, and being with my lovely wife, having a good wine and enjoying Tuscany... I already have my choice.'' He winked.

‘‘You’re an idiot,’’ She laughed, messing up his hair even more and taking his glasses off Harry’s face, lifting her hips so he could take off her pants more easily. ‘’I’d love to go to Tuscany. Elizabeth can cover my schedule.’’ Ginny would never get used to that look of happiness that Harry gave her every time they agreed to do something kind of stupid. Like when they ran away to get married alone on the beach, or when in the middle of the night, they bought an old, abandoned house near Godric’s Hollow, and started planning what is their home today.

Sometimes they were just two impulsive adults, which explained why their children were impulsive too, most of the time.

After that, the two were more silent, enjoying the sensations of being alone but not yet so used to the idea of ​​being able to make noises. Ignoring the always-regulated dinner time, and letting the night and the starry sky wash over them, while enjoying each other's bits, licking, sucking, making them come.

It was intoxicating how Harry knew exactly what to whisper in her ear, where to put his hand, his mouth, his speed. It was always better than the last time, it seemed that they never stopped getting better and better at what they did, sweating as if they had done the gym at the highest level, without the strength to stand, just lying next to each other, naked, in the dark and almost totally silent house, except for Sir playing in the garden with the new toys that Lily had bought for him before leaving for Hogwarts.

‘’I love you.’’ Ginny said, turning to look at him, running a hand over Harry’s face, which already had some small wrinkles. The beard she liked so much tickled her hand, while he had the best  and disheveled look he had when he trained. But now, it was just for her.

‘’Me too,’’ Harry smiled, kissing her forehead. ‘’Today when I thought about going to Tuscany, I thought about how many times I imagined us living it together. Traveling, raising a family, being adults…’’ He laughed nasally, also turning to look at her, in the same silly passionate way he always did, which made Ginny’s heart melt through her ribs. ‘’I wanted to go back in time and tell that Harry to be patient, that we were going to live it all.’’

‘’But it wouldn’t be funny.’’ Ginny snuggled into his chest, listening to his heart beating at a slightly faster pace, but seeming to gradually decrease. ‘’If you knew what was going to happen, you’d try to do it differently and maybe we wouldn’t end up here. Together.''

‘’You can be right… Do you think we did everything right?’’

‘’Definitely not.’’ She looked at him, smiling in the corner and ignoring the tightness in her chest that those thoughts generated. ‘’But we’re trying every day. James has been behaving better, Albus has managed to be less headstrong like his father,’’ Ginny laughed, ruffling Harry’s hair and wrinkling her nose in a frown. ‘’Lily… well, we don’t know yet, but we haven’t received a complaint yet, which is something to celebrate.’’

‘’And with us? Did we make the right choices?’’

‘’Are you doubting about marrying me, Mr Potter?’’ Harry denied, holding Ginny even more tightly to his chest, closing his eyes and seeming to relax.

''Never. It’s the happiest thing that’s ever happened in my entire existence,‘’ Harry opened his eyes again. ‘’But maybe we could have been more understanding with each other on some points, don’t you think?’’

‘’Any human relationship will have ups and downs, it’s life.’’ This time, it was Ginny who closed her eyes and relaxed against him. ‘’But I wouldn’t change nothing in our history.’’

‘’Not even to make me fall in love with you earlier?’’

‘’Not even for that. I needed that time to understand who I was, who I was not, and who you were.’’ She kissed right on Harry’s heart, now calmer, so relaxed that she could risk sleeping right there.

The two were silent, enjoying each other, holding each other and being bathed in darkness. Ginny felt her body fall into a sleep spiral that seemed so much more serene than anything else, that it was even a little scary. She did not sleep peacefully when the children were in the house, always ready to wake up and help one of the children or stop a fight. It had been years since she had known what silence was.

''Will you marry me?''

''Again?''

‘’Yes.’’ Harry sighed. ‘’This time, I promise to be able to speak my vows without starting to cry.’’

‘’But it was so beautiful.’’ Ginny smiled, kissing his chest again. ‘’Yes. I accept.’’ She didn’t need to look at him, to know that her husband was also smiling.

''Great. Maybe on this honeymoon you can swim naked.’’ They laughed, the memory of the two 22-year-olds, invading their minds.

‘’So I hope.’’

[kaaytea]

Heyyy! I literally joined tumblr because of your content and wanted to request a HC for our star, Sanada! Can you do one where he proposes to his close friend? Like under the night sky or something pleaseee? 😍

Y-you joined Tumblr for my writing? I- 🥺💖 the way I'm smiling like an idiot rn. I'd be happy to write you some Sanada content! He needs a lil more love on this blog 😤

Chasing after you

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

You had know Sanada Shunpei for as far back as you could remember. He's just always been present in your life —to be fair the boy lived two houses down from you so there was no way you'd ever escape him

The first memories you had of him were when he accompanied his mom to welcome your family to the neighborhood and your parents, being the courteous people they were, invited his mom in for tea and pushed you two into the backyard to play

You didn't know it then but that little boy with round cheeks and messy, black hair would become your best and most trusted friend for the next 18 years

You stuck together throughout school, same elementary school, same junior high, and finally you followed him to Yakushi

You saw the change in him when a certain boy and coach lit a fire in his soul

Gone were the days he'd skip out on practice to buy you ice cream or hide away in your room listening to music. Although his attitude about baseball had changed, he was still the same ol' Shunpei to you

Sadly though, his increased effort in the sport created a small rift in your friendship as you spent less and less time together. Those few weeks without seeing Sanada much made you feel empty, so instead of putting more pressure on Shunpei to fix the situation you were the one to make the effort to fix your slightly strained friendship

You attended his practices and games, you even helped him train during the weekends. Halfway through your second year you became the Yakushi baseball teams unofficial manager

Day in and day out you not only assisted him but the entire team. And Sanada —who had been suppressing any and all romantic feelings he had towards you since junior high— started to realize just how important you were to him

It was during the fall tournament when your relationship really took a turn from friends to more than friends

Yakushi had just won the semifinals and you were running through the stadium to the teams locker room. You were overwhelmed, your hands were shaking as you maneuvered through the people in the halls. You were so incredibly proud of Shun and the team that when you spotted Sanada standing in the doorway of Yakushi's locker room you couldn't stop the happy tears from running down your face as you sprinted over to your best friend

Sanada just laughed at you as you babbled on about how well he played, he held you in his arms and brushed the stray tears from your cheeks, and then you shared your first kiss together

It's cheesy to describe your first kiss as magical but it truly was. Your and Shunpei's first kiss was a release of 5 years worth of pent up feelings

Now, Sanada had always joked that he would marry you —a joke he started when you were both around 8— but it was here in the doorway of a locker room he promised himself he would not only be your best friend for life but your partner as well

Fast forward 8 years, Sanada was about to fulfill that promise he made as a teen

Shunpei almost never got nervous but gOd did he feel like he was gonna throw up from the nerves, he was barely able to stomach the dinner your mother had made

Later in the night you dragged Shunpei to your backyard for some fresh air —which he was very grateful for as he felt like he could breath again after fidgeting around all night

The moment felt reminiscent of the first time you met each other; sitting on your porch talking and soaking up the surroundings of your backyard

Sanada decided it was now or never

You had stood up and walked to the middle of your backyard looking up at the bright stars that sprinkled the inky sky

"I wish we had this view from our apartment, it's so beautiful ou-"

You turned to see the pitcher on one knee with a nervous smile and a small box in his left hand

"(y/n), you're quite honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me. You've spent your life chasing after me and my baseball career -which I'm very thankful for and I couldn't ever repay you for all the time you've wasted waiting for me at practices- but....what you didn't know is I've been chasing after you this entire time too. You're my best friend who I love more than anything in the world and, call me greedy, but I want you to be more than that; I want you to be my partner in life... officially I mean"

Damn if you weren't crying before you definitely are now

Of course you said yes, you'd be a grade A fool if you turned down THE Sanada Shunpei

Boy was he relived you said yes! Cradled you in his arms and pressed kiss all over your face in attempts to halt your sobbing

With a smile and a few of his own tears he slipped the engagement ring on to your finger and pulled you into a kiss

[karajaynetoday]

at the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them | ashton irwin

Hello lovely people! Because I’m apparently far too emo and angsty to function when it comes to my writing, I’ve decided to explore Part 2 of the first ever 5sos writing piece I posted on tumblr “it’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love”. 

I’ve based part of this part 2 concept on the ode, which is a poem that’s recited at ANZAC and remembrance day celebrations here in Australia (is it blasphemous to use that as writing inspo? Soz if it offends you, I just love the ode so much). The poem is 4 lines that I’ve split into two parts and incorporated into the piece.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Read part one here, part three here

Trigger warning for death of a loved one following an illness (non-graphic). 

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 1.6k 

You thought you’d have more time. Even though you knew the clock was ticking on your mother’s mortality, you just thought you’d have more time. But then again, no amount of time would ever truly be enough. Ashton had stayed around for the weekend, and you’d found each other’s arms again as you sat in the backyard and watched the sun set, but it turns out he had press and meetings in the city on Monday (the only way he could wrangle the sudden trip home was to coordinate at least some work things) so you tried to embrace it, despite knowing his company would be short-lived.

Your mother had loved her birthday party and seeing the faces of those she cherished the most, but it had also exhausted her, and come Monday morning you couldn’t convince her to move from her bedroom into the lounge where she usually spent her days, but you just figured she was more tired than usual. You managed to get your siblings out the door and out of your hair so you could tidy up after yesterday’s festivities, but deep down you could feel yourself becoming more and more unsettled about what was yet to come. It’s there, in the pit of your stomach. Every time you swallow, you feel it. But because you’ve got no choice other than to go on, that’s what you do. Push forward with your life, and push the feeling away.

Around lunchtime, your phone chimed with a text message from Ashton that simply read “Neverland?”, which had you grinning like an idiot. Neverland was what you called one of your teenage hideaways, a codename to stop your parents from figuring out where it was, and in your mind it was still a magical place where your hopes and dreams lived, and where your love for Ash and his kindred spirit grew and grew. In reality, it was a gathering of really old trees along a dried up creek bed behind your house, with a ripped and torn old couch you’d managed to push in from your backyard, but there was a part of your soul there, and you knew part of Ashton’s was there too, amongst the whispering leaves and the bark scratched deep with words.

You tried not to think too much about it, tried not to get too attached to the idea of spending more time with Ash, because you knew eventually he’d leave again and that distance would rip your heart into pieces once more. But you wanted to hope for more. A message here or there, or a phone call to hear his voice, or maybe one day a trip to see the world he told you about with bright, shining eyes all those years ago. Maybe with his hand holding yours, and those hazel eyes meeting yours, and just… more.

You were stuck in your daydream at the kitchen sink, idly scrubbing a cake dish from the party, when a loud beeping snapped you out of it. What was that? You’d never heard it before. Where was it coming from? You rushed out of the kitchen into the hallway, and then as you neared your mother’s bedroom the beeping got louder and louder until it was the only thing you could hear, and the only thing you could feel was the bile pushing up your throat. Opening the door, all it took was one glance and you knew. She was gone.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

You don’t know how, but you’d managed to dial the numbers of the people you needed to call. First, the doctors, who needed to come and make it official with their paperwork and time of death. Second, your siblings, so they could come home to you. Third, your mother’s best friend, who answered the phone on the first ring and came straight over to hold you in her arms while you bawled like a baby. Fourth, you thought about calling your mother’s best friend’s eldest son, but you couldn’t bring yourself to press the button. You’d only had him back for a day and a half. What a cruel universe it was, to put this scenario upon you. Instead, you sent a text. “She’s gone. Neverland at 6pm x”.

The next few hours passed in a blur of tears and paperwork and soothing cups of tea. Because it wasn’t an entirely unexpected event, soon enough family friends were showing up on your doorstep, offering warm casserole dishes with hushed tones and sad eyes, and you willed yourself into strong big sister mode, thanking them for their kindness and trying your best to soothe their grief. Your siblings sat quietly in different parts of the house, not quite knowing what to do with themselves. No one wanted to eat anything quite yet, and honestly you still had that sick feeling in your stomach. With a splash of cold water to your face and a few deep breaths, you pulled on a warm jacket before stepping out the back door into the cool evening air, and slipping through the gate unnoticed.

You hadn’t been to Neverland in almost ten years, but somehow your feet knew exactly which path you needed to take. Shuffling towards the familiar trees, you could just make out Ashton’s figure in the twilight, his head in hands as he sat forward on the dusty old couch that had somehow survived years of turbulent weather outdoors. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, and you could see the puffiness in his eyes. Fuck, would everyone look at you with such sadness for the rest of your life?

You felt the tears prick in your own eyes as you neared closer, and Ash stood and opened his arms to you. You throw yourself at him and like just a few days ago, you feel the warmth and the safety and the security and you feel the part of your soul that is set on fire whenever his skin touches yours, but before you can get any words out, the sobs come hard and fast. You’re babbling incoherently, and he’s whispering sweet reassurances into your ear, and pulling you down onto the couch so he can pull you into his side and rub small circles into your back. He’s using your nickname as he tries to calm you, and slowly you feel your tears start to slow and your breathing regulate. Sniffling, you settle your head onto Ash’s chest and close your eyes.

“What is it with this place and me crying my eyes out? Last time we were here, you told me you were going to London.”  You said quietly, wiping your eyes.

“That’s right… and you told me you hated me and that you never wanted to see me again.” Ash whispers, brushing your hair out of your face with a gentle hand.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, and that lasted all of 7 hours until I sat next to you on the bus the next morning and copied your homework.”

Ash laughed, and the sound brought warmth to your heart. Sounds cheesy, but you wanted to bottle it and hear it every day for the rest of forever. You were both silent for a moment, taking in the peacefulness of the night sky, and the hushed whispering of the trees that surrounded your little hideaway spot. You close your eyes, and breathe in. Breathe in the moment, breathe in Ashton, breathe in and breathe out all of the stress and anxiety and anguish and fear that was trying to push its way to the front of your heart and soul.

“We’ll remember her. I promise. We won’t ever forget.” Ashton says quietly, ducking his head down to meet your eyes. You smile sadly, reaching up to cup his cheek and brush your fingers over the dark circles under his eyes.

“I know. It’s okay. It’s just a lot, even though I knew it was coming.”

“Just because you expected it, doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad and confused and just be yourself for at least a little while. My love, you’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders, but I need you to remember that you matter. So much. To your family and to me and I know that I’ve been gone and shit at keeping in contact and I’m so fucking sorry that I – “ You lean in and silence Ashton’s words with a soft kiss. He’s shocked at first, and then relaxes into, before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you trying to seduce me? Out here, on this couch?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You wish, Irwin. Just wanted to shut you up. I know my mother just died, but we don’t have to have emo hour every hour.” You chide in response, tapping his nose and earning a laugh.

You push yourself up off the couch and step over to the big tree beside it, reaching out to run your hands over the words carved into the trunk. Your siblings’ names, and Ash’s, his initials and yours in an arrow heart, and the word “remember” in the centre of it all.

You feel Ash step up behind you, and his head rests on your shoulder and kisses your neck softly. It’s another moment, like you had in the kitchen, where your heart breaks and bursts with love and a feeling of content at the same time, but for now, it’s enough. Enough to commit to memory, and enough to get you through until the sun rises for another day.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Read part one here, part three here

[jbbuckybarnes]

List of Firsts

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (2k) Description: You’re working on a movie project with Sebastian & Anthony in Atlanta and the topic of “Experiences in your late teens and early twenties” comes up. Warnings: anxiety, panic attack, not proofread A/N: I don’t write much RPF anymore, so I hope this doesn’t read too awkward.

Masterlist

You had been experiencing a lot of great things on set. Not only was this your first role you ever got, it was also a freaking side role in a few episodes of a Marvel series. With the potential to become something bigger. But that wasn‘t the main reason why it was great. You finally got the positivity you had been craving all your life. The man playing Bucky Barnes, Sebastian, had been an absolute delight to be around. Always joking, always listening and always getting way too deep and philosophical. Anthony had the joking part down and whenever you had a bad day on set you just stood around him to get some of that positivity. „So I gave her a piggyback ride so we could get out of there without her whining about her feet hurting.“ Seb talked about some party a couple years back with a big smile. „I‘ve never gotten a piggyback ride.“ You commented looking up at the sky. You two were on daybeds and had a break from filming. He looked at you with a frown, „Excuse me? You‘ve never had fun in your life?“ You chuckled, „I guess so.“ It kind of hurt to know that you didn‘t have the life you wanted until now. You barely had any friends and never really got out of the house. The last big memories you had made were 4 years ago. „You know, I just didn‘t do a lot of cool or random things until now. I was either the annoying girl or an outsider. And when that started to change my anxiety hit and I isolated myself. So I never really had late teens or early twenties to just have fun,“ you explained. „Gosh, sorry, that probably sounded really mean then.“ He frowned thinking about his comment. „It‘s alright. I‘m used to it.“ You mumbled. „Do you have a list, you know, of things that you haven‘t done and still want to do?“ He asked curiously. „Like a list of firsts? No. It would probably be super long, especially when you include a food section.“ You chuckled at the image of Spongebob‘s endless list in your mind. „Name one.“ „Gosh, I don‘t know, holding hands? Cooking with someone that‘s not family? Forehead kisses? Oh, I have a good one, water pistol fight.“ You giggled and saw him light up a bit. „And food?“ „Sushi, Poptarts, any Thai food pretty much, Tapas.“ You counted them off. „We‘re gonna have sushi for dinner then.“ He decided in disbelief and made you laugh. You knew he just wanted everyone to be happy around here. It showed in his little efforts to make you feel more comfortable.

___

„Here.“ He held out a water pistol to you the weekend after you had talked. „Wait, what?“ You looked up at him confused. „It‘s hot, we‘re in Atlanta and we happen to have an outdoor pool in this hotel, so I bought these.“ He shrugged as if it was nothing. „Seb, I‘m wearing white.“ Your right eyebrow shot up. A shrug came back again with a sly smile, „Shit happens.“ He ran towards the pool to fill up his water pistol, „No!“ You ran after him with yours and the fight had begun. A splash of water drenched your shirt, showing your black sports bra underneath. You retaliated and aimed at his chest while trying to get into a hiding spot. „Nice bra.“ He laughed like a little boy. „Nice abs, macho.“ You rolled your eyes aiming at him from your spot behind a pillar. His hair was hit and ruined with a celebratory laugh from you as he started charging for you, making you run with a giggle. The back of your shirt was hit too, as well as your hair. „Seb!“ you squeaked out and hid behind another pillar where a back and forth ensued. „You‘re an idiot.“ You laughed before he leapt forward and grabbed you to empty the rest of the water he had onto your head with a big pout from you. „Just because you‘re bigger than me.“ You crossed your arms as the water ran down your shoulders. „Poor baby.“ He cooed before unexpectedly getting the rest of your water straight into his face. „You play dirty, I see.“ He smirked mischievously with water droplets from his hair hitting your face that had a giant grin on it. You reached down to wring out your shirt, „Do you have anything to change into? My stuff is in the washing machine downstairs.“ „Uh, yeah.“ he mumbled before getting off his shirt and wringing it out too. Half an hour later you sat in the lobby with a big hoodie and a cup of tea. Even better, you sat there being held warm by a certain idiot.

___

„Hey, what‘s wrong, darling.“ He asked softly leaning forward to meet you at eye level. „Nothing, I‘m just having a headache and feel very dizzy. I‘ll survive it,“ you mumbled and cuddled deeper into the coat your character was usually wearing. „Already took a painkiller?“ His head dipped to the side and you nodded a little weak. „Sebastian, Y/N, next scene.“ An assistant knocked at the door. „Coming in a second,“ he answered. He held out both of his hands to help you up and saw you almost fall back again. „Oh, dear.“ He exhaled at your state of health. „Did someone stick a knife in my head?“ You asked defeated. „C‘mon, take my hand. You‘ll sit down in between takes and I‘ll stare down everybody that wants you to overwork yourself.“ He grabbed your hand softly and felt you squeeze it back for stabilization. The rest of the day was spent in front of the camera, on a chair with a water bottle or hanging onto him for dear life to not trip. „Thank you,“ you mumbled by the end of the day and had two giant hands on your head, slowly pushing down on pain points. „Hey, I know how fucking awful it is to work with a knife in your head.“ He chuckled. „You didn‘t have to do it though.“ You shrugged and relaxed a little at the pain points in your neck being released. „Okay, that might hurt a little more.“ He mumbled as he pushed the points connecting neck and shoulders. An uncomfortable whimper left you, „Ouch.“ „Sorry.“ He went over them softly and had you fall against his chest seconds later. „God, I feel so much better now.“ Your voice was muffled against his clothes and he gave you a full bear hug, side to side swaying and all. „Can I always have someone like you when I feel bad?“ You asked looking up with a tired smile and got a grin back.

___

„You two are cute, you know?“ Anthony commented as Sebastian looked over to you filming a scene alone. „What do you mean?“ A brow shot up as he looked to his friend. „Everyone‘s been saying that you both, uh, spent some time alone in your trailer last week after we wrapped.“ A cheeky grin came back. A frown built on his face, „Yeah, she had a headache and I just did that pain point thing my mom always did to me when I was younger.“ „Then why have you been holding hands that entire day?“ Now Anthony‘s brow shot up. „She was tripping all over the place because the headache made her dizzy. So I just helped her to not fall on her face all day.“ „Oh. So that‘s why she sat so much between takes.“ „Do you wanna tell me,“ His hand went over his face, „That people see me holding someone‘s hand and immediately assume I just-“ „I mean, it‘s not half bad. There are worse people to be your rumor girlfriend.“ His friend chuckled and stopped pretty fast at the concerned face. „I just...She told me a bit about herself and how her life was before this and I‘m honestly just trying to make her days a little bit brighter. I don‘t wanna come off that way.“ „Hey, don‘t get in your head about it. She clearly enjoys being around you too.“ A smile. „I‘m not int-“ „Anthony!“ And he needed to film his next scene. You looked over to him in the chair as you talked to someone from the production for a while, but when you wanted to walk towards him he was gone. And he was for the rest of the day unless he needed to film. The same happened the next day and the day after. „Anthony?“ „Huh?“ „Is there something wrong with Sebastian?“ His face got worried, „Not that I know of, why?“ „I don‘t know. He just hasn‘t talked to me in a few days and I don‘t know why.“ You fidgeted with your hands. „I‘ll talk to him, alright?“ A nod and then you got back to work.

___

You got all internal about it. What did you do wrong? Did you say something hurtful? Did something bad happen in his life that he didn‘t want to share? Maybe you were just not a priority with all his friends around, you‘d understand that. But why was he in his trailer all the time then? You woke up the next day and had an anxious and sad feeling sticking to you the entire morning. You could handle certain uncertainties but not the ones that had to do with people around you. After a while you got ready for the day and went into hair and makeup. He was no different today. Well, a little different. He wasn‘t in his trailer the entire time anymore. Whenever you weren‘t needed you just cowered together in a chair or some other place. Your breathing got uneven, your thoughts started to spiral, heart rate picked up, palms got sweaty, your knees shaky. „Oh please no,“ you whispered to yourself. Anxiety attacks you could control, panic attacks only came when you were stressed out and without a trigger. You hectically looked up and looked around in your cotton-feeling world, when you saw him talk to one of his friends. You made a beeline for him with a deep frown in your face that he couldn‘t ignore and couldn‘t run from. Your head landed on his chest and with a whimper you got out, „Panic attack.“ You felt arms wrap around you softly and a thumb going through your hair. „I‘m here. Breathe slowly,“ he murmured in a soft voice. You followed the 5-6-7 rule for what felt like an hour, your knees feeling more and more like jello. He got down a little and picked you up, „Keep it up.“ He carried you away from all the noise and into a room drowning it all out. „You made me so worried,“ you whimpered, „What did I do?“ „I‘m sorry, you did nothing. I just...I guess I‘m just an idiot.“ „Yeah, but why?“ You looked up at him as he set you back down. „There was a rumor about...us. And I didn‘t want that to, you know, ruin anything.“ You dipped your head to the side, „I don‘t care about rumors.“ „Yeah, usually me neither, but I guess there was something to it when it comes to me.“ he shrugged. „Please never do that again. I thought I did something bad,“ you mumbled and felt his hands by your face again. „Promise.“ A kiss was placed on your forehead.

___

„So, uh,“ he stood there with a demeanor of a schoolboy on one of your location shooting days, „would you, after we filmed today, maybe, you know, grab something to eat with me?“ „Yeah, sure.“ You shrugged. „As...like a date.“ He added a little softer and scrunched up his face expecting a bad response. „Oh, uh,“ You could feel the heat rise up to your face, „Y-yeah. Sure.“ You saw triumph on his face and boxed him against the chest, „You said grab, not sitting in a loud restaurant.“ „Uuuh, you wanna cook with someone else for the first time?“ He wiggled his brows. „Someone that can‘t cook, may I add.“ You rolled your eyes with a smile. „Congratulations, you signed up for a whole series of firsts just with having me cook.“ He laughed before you were sent to do your job again. A job that went by way faster with something to look forward to.

[musical-shit-show]

Two Sides: Chapter 1

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, alcohol mention, brief mention of death

Word Count: 1282

Author’s Note: Okay so I’m honestly really nervous about posting this fic, but I’ve been working on it for a few months now and have really been wanting to get back into writing, so here goes nothing. Please like and/or reblog if you like it, as well as send a message in my ask box if you have any comments! I really want to make some more friends in the Beetlejuice fandom, and seeing as I follow a fair number of blogs on here, I thought this would be a good way to do that! 

As for this chapter, it really is just setting up the relationship between my OC (Cassandra) and Lydia. It really only features these two characters, but I’ll be sure to post the next chapter in a few days. Also just a note that now that I’ve figured out a bit of how Tumblr works, I’ll be posting what kind of requests I will and will not take, as well as some writing prompts. Anyways, here’s my first chapter, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Being invisible can be great. Anonymity in this day and age is a rare commodity, and one must seize it when presented. There’s something about sticking in headphones and disappearing into a crowd that can be so…liberating. Avoiding a random classmate from school year’s past can almost feel like a high, a small victory in the chaos of life.

Other times, being invisible was a curse. It sucked all of the life out of you until you were left with anger and sadness. Sometimes, you don’t feel anything. Invisibility meant no one saw you, the real you, and that left a sickening, empty void. Nothingness.

Cassandra Burke almost always experienced the latter feeling of invisibility. Aloneness, emptiness were sensations she felt on an almost daily basis. No matter how comfortable of a situation she found herself in, more often than not she would retreat from the spotlight. It was just easier to more dominant personalities take hold of the conversation, whether that be at work, a bar, or other social gatherings. Her anxiety often got the best of her, the fear of making one wrong remark blocking her from making very many real connections in this world.

Her best friend, Lydia Deetz, was the only one who ever saw her for who she was. In turn, Lydia felt the same way about Cassandra. Ever since they became roommates their sophomore year of college, the two became joined at the hip, able to understand and appreciate the differences between one another. Both girls had felt that level of isolation in their lives, (though through completely different circumstances), and they bonded instantly. The two fit together seamlessly, like pieces in a perfectly assembled puzzle.

Cassandra can still perfectly remember the night she met Lydia. It was her freshman year, and she had somehow managed to wind up at a disgustingly overpacked frat house on a chilly October evening. Not knowing a soul on campus, she was desperate to make new friends. However, what 18-year-old, fresh-out-of-high-school Cassandra had not realized is that a party filled to the brim with drunk college kids isn’t the best way to make lifelong friends to share all your hopes and dreams with.

Only fifteen minutes after arriving, she found herself pinned up against the wall, being crushed by a sea of people migrating slowly across the faux-wood flooring, which had grown sticky with spilled jungle juice. Cassandra felt a pang in her chest, a telltale sign that her anxiety was about to get the best of her. She clutched her small bag to her side, scanning the room for an exit strategy. If anyone even looked at her, she swore she’d die of embarrassment���

“Hey,” there was a sudden tap on her shoulder, “You wanna get the fuck out of here?”

Cassandra spun around, coming face-to-face with another girl. She stood a few inches taller than her, a short black dress clinging to her thin frame. The taller girl also sported a short black bob, heavy eye makeup, and a camera that hung around her neck. Cassandra leaned in closer, unable to fully make out what the girl was saying over the thumping bass of the indistinct techno song that was blaring from the speakers.

“Sorry, uh, what?”

“You look miserable,” the girl said louder, “I am too. Wanna leave?”

Cassandra felt a wave of relief crash over her. She nodded, and within five minutes, the two girls were hastily walking down the sidewalk, their breath visible in the cool evening air.

“So, wanna go downtown and people watch all the drunk idiots out tonight?” the dark-haired girl said, her eyes shining mischievously in the moonlight, “Sometimes if they’re being particularly obnoxious, I like to pretend to hex them so they get all freaked out and leave me alone.” Cassandra stared blankly at the other girl, deciding if she was serious or just messing with her. She extended her arm, “I’m Lydia, by the way. Lydia Deetz.”

“Cassandra,” she responded, gripping Lydia’s hand, “My friends back home called me Cassie. Or Cass.” She smiled sadly, suddenly remembering how lonely she was. Lydia nudged her out of her reverie, a small grin etched upon her face.

“Well, I like all three of those names,” Lydia remarked, strutting confidently down the sidewalk farther towards the edge of campus, “So, you down to scare some inebriated assholes?” After a moment, Cassandra nodded, and the two girls spent the entire night laughing and talking about their lives. Not soon after, they became practically inseparable.

That was five years ago. Now, they were still living together, trading their dorm room for a shoebox apartment in New York City, from which Lydia originally hailed. It was nice. Cassandra was lucky to have Lydia, especially given that her black-haired friend was far more popular than her in their college years. Sure, she was a bit strange, but people at school really took to her. Meanwhile, Cassandra struggled to open up to her schoolmates, leaving her to fade in the background over the past few years.

“Hey Cass!” Lydia called from their shared bedroom, “Have you seen my camera?” Having gained a bachelor’s degree in photography, Lydia had taken thousands of pictures in Cassandra’s presence. Now, she had a desk job at an editorial magazine, and shot photos in her spare time to expand her portfolio.

Cassandra furrowed her brow, searching her memory. “Uh, I think I saw it underneath your bed?” she called back, uncertain of the whereabouts of one of her roommate’s prized possessions. For all the wit she had, Lydia could be incredibly forgetful at times. Seconds later, she heard a triumphant cry from the other room. Cassandra let a small smile flicker across her face.

“Found it!” Lydia said, emerging from their room. She slung the strap of the expensive Nikon around her small frame, “I don’t know what I’d do without this over the weekend.”

Lydia frequented her old house in Connecticut every few weekends. Though she lived there during her high school years, her dad and stepmom had moved back to the city, leaving the house to her aunt and uncle. Cassandra didn’t know much about them, except their names – Barbara and Adam – and that they were incredibly kindhearted people.

Cassandra’s eyes flickered between the grad school application she was finishing and her best friend fiddling with her camera. What she’d give to have a weekend out of the city. She was certain Connecticut in the fall was spectacularly beautiful, but there was work to be done, and more importantly, Lydia had never offered an invitation.

She found this odd, but Cassandra knew how secretive she was about her family. The only relative she ever talked about at length was her mom, who had died when Lydia was in her early teenage years. Why she never really talked about anyone else was beyond Cassandra, but she had just shrugged it off. If Lydia wanted to be private about that aspect of her life, who was she to pry?

She had been so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Lydia staring at her. “What?” Cassandra asked innocently, blinking a few times in confusion. Lydia crossed her arms across her black top, smirking. Lydia was incredibly perceptive when it came to her best friend, and could almost read her mind at times.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow upward. Cassandra exhaled, wracking her brain for any plans she had potentially made. Of course, there were none.

“Nothing.”

“Good, you’re coming with me,” Lydia replied, a playful smile dancing across her lips, “I think it’s finally time for you to meet Adam and Barbara.”

---

And that’s the end of Chapter 1! Like I said, I’ve been terrified about posting this, so if you liked the first chapter, like and/or reblog! Thanks!

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] In The Arms of Love:  Chapter 3

Yuusaku shifted underneath the blanket, not quite able to get himself comfortable. He hated to admit that he was a little chilly even with his blanket; there were drafts, of course, because his apartment had four separate drafts, and one of them kept chill air blowing into his room whenever it gusted outside.

That was one of the reasons he preferred Link Vrains. There weren’t drafts there. He could stay warm there. But here, even tucked under the blanket, he heard the sighing of the wind.

He’d get to sleep sooner or later. He always did. But he would have far preferred it to be sooner. He had put in a lot of effort in Link Vrains and he was worn out.

Part of that effort involved everything that happened with Ai when they’d been in Vrains as well. That little thing Ai did trapping them so they could hug.

Truth to tell, Yuusaku thought he wasn’t quite as upset about that now. Ai meant well. Ai needed a lot of lessons on how to human properly and how it was kind of rude to trap someone like that, but Yuusaku hoped he’d learned that now.

But while he hoped, he couldn’t entirely convince himself of that.

A presence settled next to him. He didn’t even look up. He knew who it was.

“What are you doing here, Ai?”

“You’re not asleep,” Ai murmured. “It’s late. You should be.”

This wasn’t even close to the first time he’d spent a sleepless night. He’d sometimes gone as much as three days without sleep, pushing through on caffeine and sheer stubbornness. But since Ai took up living with him, Ai had formed Opinions on how often Yuusaku should get his nightly eight hours.

“I’m fine,” Yuusaku muttered, keeping his eyes tightly closed. “Stop talking to me and I’ll be asleep in no time.”

He wasn’t sure of how to describe the noise that Ai made but it sounded something on the order of idiot. It wasn’t the first time at all that Ai had called him that. He cracked one eyebrow to see Ai looking down at him.

At this hour it was too dark to see Ai very clearly but enough starlight leaked in through the window for Yuusaku to get a sense of the shape and form there. Not to mention that no one but Ai would be there.

He really wanted to go to sleep. But Ai was there and - Ai was holding something?

Yuusaku sat up more, frowning. “What are you holding?” He blinked, trying to get his vision to focus. Being in the dark didn’t make it easier. But he saw it finally – two cups of steaming hot tea

“I brought you tea. It’s green tea. It helps you sleep!” Ai was perky. Yuusaku had never been fond of perky, especially at this hour when he really wanted to be asleep.

“Why are there two cups?” Yuusaku wanted to know, getting himself sorted out so he could accept one of the cups. He wasn’t really thirsty but he thought perhaps the tea wouldn’t hurt.

He also wondered exactly how Ai had gotten hold of the tea in the first place. He didn’t have any of that here.

“Because I’m going to have it with you,” Ai promised, crossing his legs and leaning against Yuusaku.

Yuusaku frowned. “I didn’t know you could drink actual tea.” Despite how human he looked, Ai was still a Soltis and that meant he didn’t actually need to eat.

“I have a way to process it,” Ai told him, just a smidge too cheerfully. “I’ll have to get rid of it later, of course. Just like you will.”

Yuusaku decided then and there that he didn’t really want to know any further details. The mechanical details, maybe, but not the specific other details.

The cup sat warm in his hands, and he breathed in rich green tea scent for a long moment before he carefully started to sip it.

“You’re going to have to thank Roboppy for the tea,” Ai said, sipping at his own cup. “They made it for you. But it was my idea.”

Of course it was. Yuusaku wouldn’t have thought anything else. He glanced up long enough to see Roboppy peeking in the door and managed to offer a small smile. He’d been more than a little surprised to find a way to recover Roboppy, but he knew how that happened. Ai and Roboppy made a backup of the housebot’s data before everything fell apart all those months earlier. All that had been required was a proper casing to download it into. Roboppy lost a few memories but still remained the adorable friend that Yuusaku had always known.

And Roboppy still enjoyed doing things for him, such as cleaning and making meals that weren’t actually hot dogs. Yuusaku had to wonder if he should try to get a better place for them all to live, just so Roboppy had more room to work with. Not that there had ever been any complaints. But he thought about it regardless.

Yuusaku wasn’t surprised to find Ai’s arm going around him again. Ai made it plain there would be plenty of hugs in the future. It wasn’t that horrible of a thought. Ai hugging him was actually rather pleasant.

He’d never thought about being hugged in his own bed, though. He knew that this kind of thing – and a lot more – happened, but he’d never thought about it happening to him, let alone it being Ai who did it.

Ai sipped carefully at his tea. “I’m not really sure why you people like this,” he mused. “It’s an interesting taste, though.”

“I like it,” Yuusaku admitted. “It’s very good tea.” Perhaps he’d have to start getting more of it. Or find out where Ai got this from.

Ai nodded. “If it helps you to sleep.” His eyes glinted in the darkness. “And you are going to sleep. This weekend I want to see if we can go to the beach.”

Yuusaku raised his head and stared at him. “What?” It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see Ai very well. He stared regardless. What in the world did Ai want to do at the beach?

“I said we're going to the beach. It’s going to be very good weather this weekend. Probably the last good weather before winter sets in.” Ai’s lips twitched ever so faintly. “I’ll find us a good place to go to enjoy ourselves. Do you have a swimsuit?”

Yuusaku couldn’t quite get his head wrapped around that. But he slowly shook his head.

“I didn't think so. Don’t worry. I’ll get you one.” Ai regarded him, eyes gleaming brightly in the darkness. “Unless you want to go with me so I can try it on you while you’re there.”

Yuusaku had no idea how to even begin responding to that! He spluttered, part of the tea choking in his throat, and Ai quickly patted his back until he had it all properly sorted out.

“That won’t be necessary. I don’t think I need a swimsuit.” What would he even do with one?

“I think you do,” Ai pointed out. “And I’m going to make sure that you get one.”

He tightened his grip around Yuusaku, enfolding him a deep and warm hug. “Now go to sleep.”

“I need to lay down for that,” Yuusaku muttered, setting his teacup to one side. He’d finished it and he could already feel himself starting to slide far closer to sleep than he had before.

Yuusaku wasn’t surprised to hear Ai chuckling the way that he did whenever Ai thought he knew better – which was most of the time. “You can sleep like this. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.” Ai’s hand touched the blanket, rubbing it in between his fingers and clearly not approving. “You need another one of these, too. And until you get one, then I’m going to keep you warm.” A quick bit of laughter. “I’ll probably keep you warm after that, too.”

It took a bit of effort not to actually sigh at that. He wondered why Ai was like this and decided that he would not only probably never know but it was better if he didn’t know. Some answers people just weren’t meant to have.

Ai rearranged his grip so that he held Yuusaku against him, arms a little more comfortable than Yuusaku would have thought. Not quite like a pillow – he was too dense and hard for that – but Yuusaku found himself relaxing against Ai regardless. Maybe he’d also think about getting a larger pillow, so if Ai wanted to keep doing this, he would be a lot more comfortable. A larger pillow, a better blanket – all that would take money. Very annoying but he had his ways to get what he needed. He’d just never thought it that necessary until now.

With how touchy and clingy Ai had been over the last day, Yuusaku wasn’t surprised to feel Ai’s fingers playing in his hair again. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and relaxed himself. It wasn’t often that he felt this safe, even in his own bed. But here, of all places, he’d never be hurt. Ai was there. Ai would not hurt him. Ai – cared about him. He cared about Ai.

“Yuusaku-chan,” Ai murmured, and Yuusaku wished that he’d be quiet. How could he get his sleep if Ai kept on talking “What do you think about me getting you a thong swimsuit?”

Yuusaku very nearly sat up, all thoughts of sleep doing their best to flee far from him.

“No!”

To Be Continued

Notes: So, should Ai and Yuusaku get to the beach?

[ineffably-effable]

good omens fic recommendations

If you’re looking for coherent reviews you’ll be disappointed, but if you want a list of quality recommendations - with excerpts & some vague ramblings as to what the reader should be in the mood for - enjoy!

29 recommendations underneath the cut.

(17k) Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture 

Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

Mood: beautiful slow burn, misunderstandings, heartache that would be solved if someone taught these besotted idiots to communicate.

Paradox: Crowley has never risen from his seat and gone to stand behind someone at a counter, never put his arms around their middle and pulled them tight against him. Has never apologized with a touch, with a closeness, with the thin line of his body. So why does it occur to him that he might do that now? Might press up against Aziraphale from behind and rest his forehead on Aziraphale’s nape and ask silently to be forgiven. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world when he knows, intimately knows that it’s not.

(51k) how deep the sand by Handful_of_Silence

After the Apocalypse, and with characteristic slowness, both Crowley and Aziraphale think there might be something they need to sit down and talk about.

And then Aziraphale disappears.

Mood: tragic twist of fate, separation, hurt/comfort, guilt & devotion.

He thinks about the picnic they’d have had. He’d have pulled the top down from the Bentley and let the wind tussle his hair, the weather of a glorious August now gone warming his skin. They would have chatted, sitting carefully on a tartan blanket, and they’d have made their own plans.

They might have even found the right time to talk properly. Honestly. About everything that’s been, about the possibilities that could be now that everything’s different.

About maybe not going back to London. Going back to their Jobs.

About leaving it all behind, together.

The words Crowley didn’t say are clogging up his throat.

(14k) Made Flesh by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

AU in which Crowley is two entities, and Aziraphale isn’t sure how he feels about either of them.

Mood: oblivious idiots, daemon!fic-if-you-squint, pining & tamed desire.

Eleven years pass, attended by another marked change; the creature cannot bear to be out of the same room as Aziraphale. The angel, isolated and frayed as he is by the fear of the coming war, has no problems with this development – he needs the company – although sometimes he looks into the yellow eyes and feels the spear of a nameless sorrow. If it comes to it, Heaven will win, of course; the certainty, however, is bitter. He tries not to think about what will happen to Crowley, or to this small being that runs at his heels as he moves, gripped by a contagious agitation.

(8k) Ad Astra by drawlight / @drawlight

Some things can only be said in the dark.

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities.

Aziraphale swallows. His eyes hold Crowley’s. Crowley stands very still, wretched. Terrified. Watching Aziraphale’s very wide eyes, the open of the mouth. There is a softness in Aziraphale’s look, in the swallow of his throat. It could be? (It might not be.) He wants to scream it; he wants to say nothing at all. Let me stay in this bit of maybe. Maybe is not no, maybe means perhaps, someday. Maybe means you might feel the same. (You might not.)

(13.3k) Alegría by drawlight / @drawlight

After the End That Wasn’t, Heaven and Hell are leaving them alone. Entirely alone. (This is a story with nothing of miracles.)

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities + domesticity

(Yes, I know the mood is almost the same as above, but honestly this is @drawlight, what were you expecting? Read it if you want a Crowley that will absolutely wreck you & leave you heart-broken.)

Aziraphale is a touch-strong man. He touches everything (Crowley knows, he always watches). Aziraphale loves and he likes to love through his skin. His fingers on a particularly fine leather binding, dipping into the embossed author, the tooled name of the title. His hands breaking apart a loaf of Italian sourdough, fingers coming away with residual flour. Dipping his hands into sacks of grain, rubbing a fine weave of silk through. He touches Crowley too, in his usual and gentle way. The touch on the arm to still Crowley’s whiplash self, to make a point during an argument. Aziraphale who thinks nothing of oh, my dear, you’ve got an eyelash just there, let me get it for you. Crowley has a good memory. He catalogs them all, cross-examines them. Six-thousand years of maybes and what-ifs and what was thats ? But Aziraphale is just as easy with his touches on glass bottles while pulling out his favorite vintages. He touches his favorite fountain pen far more often than he reaches for Crowley. No, in context, it means nothing. It’s just Aziraphale as usual. Don’t look too closely, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.

(13k) small infinities and all that by JustStandingHere / @billypotts

Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath.

Mood: slow burn, domesticity, best friends falling in love & all the beautiful awkwardness that entails.

And there it is, isn’t it? Something they’ve known for a long time, but haven’t named it. Have been too scared to name it. Something that speaks in their bones, in the space between them.

(12k) the deft, sweet gesture of your hand by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

Crowley arrives injured at Aziraphale’s door. He takes care of him, reads him an awful lot of Mary Oliver, and knits elaborate metaphors for his insecurities (literally).

Mood: beautiful writing, mixed signals, feeling unworthy of the millenia-long object of your affections, unable to create gifts that are good enough for the people you love and being in love with a complete idiot.

Aziraphale has tended to the sick and injured during periods of plague and war many times throughout his long life, and he tries to adopt the same kind-but-impersonal detachment as he carefully washes Crowley. It is slightly harder, Crowley being the sole object of six thousand years of repressed desire, but he’s also Aziraphale’s closest friend, and a person besides, so he does him the courtesy of not ogling his bare legs or torso as he goes.

(9.3k) Slow by write_away / @theirdarkreturning

Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

Mood: Miscommunication, with a hefty side order of pining and the urge to yell at your screen in the vain hopes of getting through to these two idiots.

For Crowley - that was the demon’s name, and it’s best to memorize it quickly, before he changes it yet again - knew that the angel would love him if he just asked, and Aziraphale - the angel, though there’s no rush with him, there never really is - knew that the demon would take him in with open arms if he just asked. It’s just that neither of them were good at asking things of one another.

(14.7) Lead me to the banquet hall by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Crowley loves taking Aziraphale out to eat almost as much as Aziraphale loves eating, but it’s always a bit of a one-sided affair. Aziraphale has never understood why. Crowley planned on keeping it that way, but best laid plans…

Mood: wonderful footnotes, pining, creating a shrine to the object of your longing and then submitting to the mortifying ordeal of them finding it.

The thing about Aziraphale is quite simply this: Crowley can never have enough of him. God, Satan, everyone knows he’s tried. Crowley has spent centuries glutting himself on the sight of him only to be empty again days later, wondering whether it’s too soon to show his face in the bookshop. Aziraphale drifts from brasserie to bar in his quest to indulge in the best of human culinary expertise; Crowley follows after, because he knows Aziraphale will be there. It isn’t enough, but it’s something, and the only thing Crowley can ever expect.

(14.2k) all i need, darling, is a life in your shape       by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.

Mood: domesticity with pining, chosen family, acts of love, boyfriend sweaters & idiots in love.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes indulgently, passing out the rest of the gifts and sneaking little glances at Crowley as he struggled with the box. He’d worked so hard on it, searched all the best yarn shops in London for the perfect skeins. He even had to sit on hold for hours with the manufacturer of the yarn he chose because he needed another skein from the same dye-lot, knowing that Crowley would want only the best, and he’d notice even a minor inconsistency in the coloring.

(27k) Long Is The Way, And Hard by Kate_Lear

A story of Crowley’s thoughts about Aziraphale, from the Beginning to the present day.

And also of temptation, and want, and whether - for a Fallen Angel - redemption is possible after all.

Mood: slow burn, denial, temptation, jealousy, lust to love, character growth.

Aziraphale hasn’t shared his bed with anyone. He can’t have done, because if he has then Crowley is going to hunt down that mortal – in this world or the next – and enact something creatively and comprehensively bloody upon them. Possibly involving methods from the Spanish Inquisition, that have scabbed over in Crowley’s memory and that he shies away from picking at.

(25.7k) your weekend lover by witching

Mood: miscommunication, mutual pining, ineffable idiots who are on the same page but reading a different damn book

It was purely physical, they had agreed on that from the beginning. Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember why he had agreed to that, but he suspected it had something to do with not ruining their friendship, or some such nonsense. At any rate, that was the deal. The new Arrangement. Purely physical.

(16k) I’ve Got You To Help Me Forgive by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz)

Pt1: Crowley deals, more or less, with the Fall. Also, Crowley has feelings. The angel doesn’t help with that. Also, sunny rocks are very nice.

Pt2: In which tea is made, a story is shared, and a leap of faith is taken.

Mood: Lust, first times, innocence, ineffable sex, memory wipes, Aziraphale showing initiative and being a bit of a bastard, overwhelmed Crowley, Gabriel is a total dick. Fair warning this isn’t PWP, it has loads of plot and feelings too and fantastic characterizations.

The air in Crowley’s lungs took leave of him all at once. Memories he hadn’t given a good look at in ages resurfaced. Memories he’d quite ably buried, thank you very much and he sat up abruptly, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He set his sunglasses on the table, then pressed his face into his palms and gave it a good scrub. After a sidelong glance at Aziraphale who sat there patiently watching him, he asked, “What am I supposed to do with a question like that, hmm?”

(13.9k) The Lightness of You by Rend_Herring

God should not have built them with such discrepancy, made them need for love, and long for wholeness, then left them to their own devices.

Mood: When you want to mix up your pining & angst with a bit of humour, sex and a praise kink.

The jasmine vine actually tries brushing up against Aziraphale’s cheek and he blushes, says, “Oh, you,” all indulgent and sweet-like.  It leaves a fragrant white blossom behind his ear.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says sincerely, and Crowley glares openly at the traitors. “That’s very kind of you.” His smile really is a beacon of otherworldly radiance. An orchid blooms on the spot, the epiphyte whore.

(7.2k) summer and his pleasures by witching

absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.

Mood: drunk dialing and dirty talk, idiots in love

Something clicked in Aziraphale’s mind, and he held back a curse word threatening on his tongue. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he found himself just in that sweet spot of intoxication where he was cognizant enough to recognize that he was doing something he absolutely shouldn’t do, but not quite enough to stop himself. “I would, you know,” he said, full of newfound confidence. “I’d – if you were here, I’d make it… very much worth your while.”

(3.6k) Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

Mood: Jealousy, lashing out, withdrawal, oblivious idiots slowly learning how to use their words.

Is Crowley jealous of a musty old flat above a used book store? In the millennia he’s spent slowly twisting his own heart around Aziraphale’s little finger, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s been jealous of, to be honest.

(11k) A Touch Like Sunlight    by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog / @just-quintessentially-me

When Aziraphale is threatened by angels who seek justice for Aziraphale’s crimes against Heaven, Crowley comes up with a plan to keep him safe from harm.

Mood: PTSD from witnessing the attempted murder of your husband, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, self-sacrificing idiots & badass idiots protecting eachother.

“Right! Brunch!” Aziraphale says, bouncing up on his toes - as if they hadn’t just been discussing the murder of archangels. “Do you think they have crepes?”

(13.6k) These Things Were Here by MajorEnglishEsquire

Crowley, following times of overwhelming distress, resorted to the snake form as a means of finding comfort and solitude.

Mood: displays of affection, love shown through care-taking, using your ineffable boyfriend as a security blanket.

Nothing like it happened again for years. The pattern, however, was too recognizable to be mistaken when it did reoccur.

When commended for some catastrophe of which he was no part, Crowley became a completely disconsolate mess, but he still actually handled those occasions better than when he was, in fact, party to such disaster.

If he was blamed, but not actually at fault, Aziraphale may find him on the verge of discorporation due to alcohol poisoning, but at least he would say what was wrong. It was worse when he had an assignment he couldn’t breathe a word of. It was worse when he would smile bitterly and leave silently, haunted beyond expression.

(4.6k) let sleeping snakes lie by kythen / @kythen

The world doesn’t end. Crowley falls asleep. And Aziraphale stays by his side, waiting for him to wake up again.

Mood: acts of love, comfort, warmth, home

To some extent, he understands Crowley’s need for sleep. It had been an exhausting decade for the both of them, what with the end of the world business, and it had culminated spontaneously in them cutting off their ties with both Heaven and Hell rather dramatically, which were the only ties that either of them have ever had since the Beginning. Just as Crowley had sauntered from the ranks of Heaven to Hell, he had finally found his way out of Hell and into something that finally felt like freedom.

(6.4k) All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist / @impishtubist

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

Mood: amnesia, groundhog day - but centered on a single relationship - and with more angst

It takes a year for Crowley to fall for him again, a year until the air raid and the church and the books; a year before Aziraphale finds himself pressed up against a brick wall and exchanging desperate, burning kisses.

Crowley’s forgotten again by morning.

(70k) The Place You Need To Reach by Zetared / @zetablarian 

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

Mood: sacrifice, loss of self, trauma, love, tenderness and fantasy-novel-esque world & character building

“I have a journey to complete,” Aziraphale reminds the Adversary, primly. “May I begin?”

“In good time, Aziraphael. In good time. Tell me, do you recall the rules correctly?”

Aziraphale grits his teeth at the purposeful use of his forgotten name, but he doesn’t mention it. “Yes, of course. Using no miracles or ethereal influence of any kind, I must walk through the circles of Hell and complete an unknown task in each to earn passage to the next. I must not look behind me, where Crowley will walk. I may speak to Crowley, but he cannot speak back. I will not hear him or see him or feel even a hint of his presence. I will move forward, and, God willing, he will follow me.”

(1.9k) Kissing, Accidentally. by skybound2 / @skybound2

The one where Crowley gives in and kisses Aziraphale while he has him pinned against a wall.

Mood: hilarious footnotes, brilliant Crowley internal monologues and ineffable kissing against a wall.

No. No what actually happens is that when Crowley slams Aziraphale up against a wall in the middle of a hallway at a former-Satanic-hospital-turned-paintball-complex to express to him how very not nice he is, his hindbrain, forebrain and all other portions of his brain, decide that while denial has been a lovely place to reside for the previous six millennia, they are rather due a relocation at this point. And “Oh! Would you look at that! Here’s the oh-so-very soft mouth of an oh-so-very-beautiful angel right in front of us! And all we have to do to get there is to just…lean forward an inch. Less than an inch, in fact! How fantastic!”

(9.3k) Build Our Kingdom by Mackem 

Mood: : ineffable dates, promises kept

“Ready for lunch?” Crowley drops to his knees to start unbuckling the straps on the basket as though this is something they do all the time; as though he hasn’t just effortlessly catapulted Aziraphale back in time almost fifty years.

“You remembered,” Aziraphale breathes as wonder courses through him. He mentioned something once during an awkward moment, half a century ago, and now here kneels a demon atop a picnic blanket.

“Hmm?” Crowley barely shoots him a sidelong glance as he concentrates on opening the basket.

Aziraphale’s eyes do not move from him. “You remembered,” he repeats, no less stunned. “Crowley, you really didn’t have to.”

Crowley’s hands still. Eventually, his eyes still on the basket, he murmurs, “Well, we did The Ritz, didn’t we?”

(9k) On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate

For two ineffable husbands, they don’t really touch each other much. Here is a story on why that might be.

Mood: touch-starved idiots in love, heart-breaking internal monologues, misunderstandings, miscommunication, protective idiots.

Crowley had decided long ago that curiosity should have been a sin, because it has been the one thing consistently tempting him in his existence. He’s done everything he can think of and more, just so see what it was all about. But this, with Aziraphale, feels more than just an experience he can add to his endless tally

(8.2k) dum memor ipse mei by NeverNooitNiet

There is something, Aziraphale thinks, that is inherently selfish— unangelic, even— about grief. But then of course, the same could be said about love.

Mood: identity angst, calling Aziraphale out on his bullshit

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous ,” Crowley snaps. “Of course I don’t— angel, do you have any idea just how much more straightforward my life would be if only I were able to hate you?”

(5.6k) bent to the very earth by Ark / @et-in-arkadia

Use me, please, Crowley had said, so Aziraphale takes him at his word.

Mood: tenderness & kisses & sex against a wall

Aziraphale kisses him back because that is what makes sense, kissing Crowley, why, the thought crosses his mind often enough—he just never had the sort of momentum that seems to fire up Crowley now. Crowley whose hands are shaking before they ball up as fists on Aziraphale’s lapels, Crowley who keeps kissing him and kissing him like otherwise he’ll drown.

(40k) Lit in the Darkness by ToEdenandBackAgain / @toedenandbackagain​

Mood: Aziraphale and Crowley sleeping together through the ages. Mutual pining.

Aziraphale, despite being nowhere hear as gangly as Crowley, is somehow still all arms and legs when he sleeps. Crowley takes an elbow to the face three times before he wedges the angel between the wall and his body with an angry growl, making sure to trap the flailing limbs tight beneath his own.

Works In progress

this gorgeous ineffable wives snippet by @mia-ugly

Mood: beautiful writing, emotional vulnerability, submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known,

“Whatever happens tomorrow -“ And something will happen, they won’t walk away from this. They’d never be allowed. “Darling, you should know -”

the bucket list

  by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons  / @watsonshoneybee​

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

Mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

“You know, we are the way we are,” Aziraphale said slowly, pressing it a little, brushing his wing up against Crowley’s, “but we can also change, Crowley. We have done, over the years. We’ve changed quite a lot, since we first met.”

[grasayson]

this is my first shot at writing a matsukawa fan fiction. this will hopefully have two more parts to it

category: fluff, angst

tw: mentions of controlling behavior, swearing, slight alcohol use, not nsfw yet but that will probably be in other parts

pairing: matsukawa x reader

five years.

it had only been five years since you had been wished away to start a new chapter of your life with your newly wed husband.

five years.

of constant encouragement when you moved away to tokyo from your hometown, with the promise of new job opportunities.

up until the very end your husband had been your rock, your foundation.

as there is with any relationship, of course there was the behind the doors that no one knew happened.

the fact that your husband had never wanted to start a family, even when you had begged him to start one with you.

the way that he would sometimes drink too much with his work friends, and would come back home with lipstick stains along his collar.

he was a good husband. never would have done anything to hurt you, and always made sure that you had everything you needed (intimacy is arguably a want in his opinion not a need). you had never wished for him to pass so suddenly.

you were still in the prime of your life, having just gotten married the summer after your shared third year. although you had been told this many times by your loved ones it was always hard to believe. you felt as if your life had stopped at the moment his heart did.

days blending together, resulting in so much pain an agony. your family took care of most of the affairs when you moved back to miyagi prefecture. they didn’t push you to go out or do much of anything knowing you needed your time.

they didn’t know that the time they were giving you only caused you more damage. resentment.

the little things that your late husband would do that you started to notice. the way he would constantly complain about your cooking. the way he would slowly convince you to stop seeing your friends on weekends. the way your clothes never seemed to suit you by the looks he gave you.

yes there was grief, but it slowly morphed into a bitter taste left in your mouth. that no matter what you did you couldn’t get it out.

realizing that the comfy job you had gotten had been one where he could keep a close eye on you. noticing that while intimacy had long been a thing of the past between you two, he would come home disheveled with the scent of something sweet lingering on his clothes.

by all means you should have been happily married. he was your childhood friend turned high school sweetheart turned lover.

family members always commented on what a perfect smart couple the two of you were. they didn’t see behind those closed doors.

when getting his items from his office you didn’t miss the way his boss lingered in the empty room. you didn’t miss her muffled sobs.

it had long been on your mind he was seeing someone else. you just didn’t want to have to face her so soon after it had happened.

bitter angry thoughts continued to cloud your judgement when she would bring flowers by your house. how did she get your address again.

all rational judgement out the window knowing good and well that it was on his company record that he had his address. your address. but in that hospital room while he took his final breaths, you weren’t surprised when she had walked in. another emergency contact he had.

his beloved boss.

the one who had signed off on you getting a job in the company’s sister branch just three miles away. three miles away from the shared glances she and your husband had shared while finishing up paperwork.

it was all too much to handle.

you had had enough of being cooped up in your childhood bedroom having these thoughts run rampant in your mind.

sick of sleeping on the bed where he had taken your first kiss and much more.

a happy wife. yeah right. a bitter widow. you ran the title over in your head a few times for good measure. yes the title did seem to suit your current state better.

after a week of being stuck inside you had your mind set on walking around the town that you so desperately tried to get away from. to start fresh, and not remember all the shared moments you and your husband had together here.

the look your mother gave you as you walked out seemed to be very knowing yes albeit concerned. she was another that didn’t know what would happen between the two of you, but always seemed to sense something was off. when you wouldn’t visit for holidays or respond to any of her letters.

the streets all seemed tainted by his memories. kisses under streetlights, late nights in park benches, all of it was overwhelming.

you hadn’t realized that you he’d ended up in front of your old high school. oddly enough he wasn’t flooding your memories there.

you had been so active in so many different activities in your days there. so many extra curricular activities that didn’t involve him. you were always more for the additional things that school had provided while he remained diligent in his studies.

it was around noon so classes were still in session. the fall semester, so students were probably picking their clubs as you stood reminiscing on your days spent doing the same.

you had tried so many different sports, none quite suiting you. opting for different clubs; theater, newspaper, calligraphy, even judo for a time.

the one that you had stuck with for your three years there was the volleyball club. you tried your hand at playing your first two years, and we’re some how convinced into managing the boys team your third year.

you had already been friends with most of the boys beforehand. having gone to competitions with the girls team. cheering them on from the stands while they won match after match.

those were some of your best memories.

only beaten by actually being court side seeing everything so close up. seeing the determination in each boys eyes. you would be lying if it wasn’t contagious.

managing the team you would catch yourself screaming louder than they were. feeling as if you were in the game. as if you were doing the plays that they had been running through for months.

watching as their spikes serves played out perfectly. every little thing that they had been drilled with coming to life on that court.

while your late husband had never come to any of your games much less the boys games you never felt lonely or lacking anything by him not being there. if anything it forced you to make better connections with the people who were there with you.

never on your life would you have thought that the tooru oikawa would have been invited to your wedding, let alone give a toast to you. true to form there was extreme self flattery on his part throughout. the occasional slip up mentioning the time you had come into their room at training camp and seen kunimi’s entire backside. that one landed you a not simp nice glare from your newly wed husband. nonetheless he and most of the team had shown up to your wedding with promises to stay in touch even after you all went your separate ways.

it’s been four years since you spoke to any of them, save for the occasional selfie oikawa would send you from argentina. you would never respond back. your husband always accusing you of being too close to him, and asking why he is sending you pictures and if you sent any back.

slowly during the first year of marriage you stopped talking to any of them. your friendship, your bond, a thing of the past. just another thing left behind when you had moved away.

tainted corrupted thoughts about him once again clouding your vision. as you tried to recall the amount of late nights spent in those gyms tossing to the boys, or practicing your very slight libero skills from your time on a team. the amount of hours spent on buss rides with them usually ending up with one of them falling asleep on your shoulder. the way their last match went and the night you had spent in the gym with the rest of the third years and the tears shared. that was the last time every third year had been together in that room.

while you had invited every member of the team both boys and girls, a couple didn’t show.

matsukawa.

him being the one who’s absence you had noticed the most. makki had come up to you while an upbeat song was playing, and your husband was downing a bottle of champagne. something family related had come up. you smiled and hugged him. brushed it off as if it didn’t hurt.

matsukawa. his absence hurt the most. you had never been unfaithful to your husband not even while you were dating. but there had been a week early on in your third year where he had wanted to take a break from things to get more serious about his studies he had said. you took it to heart. confiding in your fellow third years looking for answers. they came up short with any.

oikawa had been the one to initiate the third year sleepover claiming that it would be for the betterment of the team if all upperclassmen were a unified force. everyone agreed on iwaizumi’s house.

it all started off innocent enough. as innocent as it could be with those four. oikawa was already sprawled out on the couch a bowl of soba in hand as he yelled at the tv screen. recordings from the past games played out before him as he yelled at his televised team members with a full mouth.

“shittykawa if you don’t stop yelling with your mouth full.” a less than empty threat from the kitchen had him slurping his food down faster and keeping silent. brushing past the amusing scene of oikawa with a face full of food hitting his fist in the air wanting to scream out, you headed to the kitchen to let iwaizumi know you had arrived.

“oh y/n i didn’t even hear you coming in over that idiot yelling.” he shot a glance at oikawa but went back to getting some more food ready for when the other two arrived. “trust me we aren’t going to be watching old matches all night. he just got here early and insisted on watching last weeks games.”

you gave him a soft smile as you made your way to the fridge to grab something to drink. settling in just water for the time being you took place beside him chopping up some scallions he had laid out. “iwaizumi you know people usually order food in for things like this.” nudging him slightly as he continued to mix a sauce together.

“i tried but everyone said they had wanted soba or ramen so it’s easy enough to make and i already had everything here.” shrugging as he placed the noodles in the water.

“what’s it like being the dad and the mom of the team.” you teased picking up his sauce he had mixed together and giving it a taste. “more ginger.” you said softly mincing a bit more.

he smiled over at you, a sight only seen occasionally from him. “with you here the mom role isn’t as difficult. especially with the second years they listen to you as well.”

you nodded continuing to adjust the sauce just slightly for him thinking to the time where you had to take kyotani out of the gym to talk to. him being surprising receptive, letting his guard down when no one was watching him.

“iwa-chan, y/n-chan who knows where makki and mattsun are it’s been hours.” a complaint from the living room rings through to the two of you.

“if you had come on time and not right after practice you wouldn’t be waiting hours.” iwaizumi growls back to him. he lets out a defeated sigh getting up to bring his empty bowl to the sink.

“did you even shower before coming here.” poking at his oversized shirt. he didn’t smell bad he probably showered quickly.

rolling his eyes and evading your prodding, “you act as if i haven’t got clothes hidden here so that i can shower and change.” earning him another glare.

“no fair!” he suddenly exclaims looking at your helping cooking. “i got iwa’s bland noodles, y/n is a much better cook i want her to make me some more.” he pouts.

“your lucky that i don’t throw this on you stu-“ the door opening and slamming shut was enough to save oikawa this time.

“did you tell us the wrong time, everyone is here already.” makki’s voice echos from the front door. there are some keys shuffling and being placed into the hook and then they are both standing at the kitchen.

the softest blush creeps across your face. mattsun. standing slightly behind makki, looking relaxed and mostly bored. he was the one thing that could get you flustered. having confessed to oikawa his feelings towards you in your second year, to which oikawa immediately told you. he had known about your boyfriend, but insisted that he just had to get it off his chest. the two of you never spoke of it but you could sense that his demeanor towards you had changed when you walked into the gym crying two days before having just been told about your boyfriend wanting a break.

maybe it was just wishful thinking. possibly curiosity, as all your intimate interactions had only been with your boyfriend having never so much as missed anyone else. regardless of that something about him seemed different, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined kissing him before.

the boys all teased you or would lean in for a kiss after you praised them for a good play. then knew when to stop the joke before they got you into trouble. this was usually oikawa or makki trying to get a rise out of you. the time that mattsun had done it left you confused and flustered. it was in a practice against a college team he had blocked one of oikawa’s setter dumps, as he was playing on the opposite team for the match. you couldn’t help but shout because oikawa had everyone else convinced he was going to set to the left side.

his eyes locked with yours immediately. a pink tint racing to your cheeks. oikawa called a time out and the boys headed over to the sidelines where you were keeping score. “a little excited about that play miss manager?” he questioned leaning down to your seat and resting his hand lazily against the back of it. closing you off but not intimidating.

“i was sure he was setting for the left wing spiker, i can’t believe you caught that.” it was true the other blockers had been heading to that side.

“it’s in the eyes.” he said. close. getting closer. “yours are very expressive as well,” his breath ghosting over your face missing just where you felt you needed him most. “not always saying what you mean.” his face a mere inches from yours.

as soon as it happened he reached behind you to grab his towel and water bottle, and proceeded as if nothing more of it.

it had you thinking for weeks.

“y/n?” you looked up at oikawa realizing you had been lost in thought. “we all said we don’t care what we watch tonight it’s late anyways. as our resident girl, what do you want to watch tonight?” if they knew you were lost in thought no one let on probably assuming you were still hurt over the abrupt halt on your relationship.

“anything is good we could honestly watch that anime you were all talking about at practice or a shitty romcom that you’ll inevitably cry to.” you beaded nudging the dumbass beside you.

“anime it is because we all know that you cry over every anime death, even if it’s the side character.” he retorts filling his bowl with more noodles and the sauce you had finished.

everyone followed suit getting their own bowl and took places on the couch. makki leaning against your legs along with mattsun leaning back onto his. iwaizumi taking place sitting on a cushion on the floor and oikawa taking up the entirety of the love seat across from the couch.

the sound from the tv covering up everyone eating or taking a swig from the few bottles of sake that makki has some how got his hands on. they were being passed around as everyone focused on the show.

food now long finished makki was laying on top of you with mattsun on top of him both of them within arms reach so you messed lightly with both of their hair. makki grabbed you hand and threw it to the side eyeing you. “stop that i cant stand people touching my hair.” just encouraged you to mess with it even more taking your hand from issei’s head and ruffling makki’s even more.

this resulted in him taking both your hands into into one of his and keeping them out of reach from his head.

a moment passed one of the bottles making its way over to you, makki grabbing it with his other hand and teasing you with it. “awe did you want some?” he questions before bringing it to your lips himself letting you take a larger swig than what you had wanted. passing it back over to mattsun still keeping your hands from him.

“hiro just because you’re fucking head is too sensitive,” mattsun chides, “doesn’t mean i wasn’t enjoying it.”

makki scoffs letting go of you hands slapping them away from his head instantly. “fine you big baby switch spots with me, wherever.” he groans switching places so mattsun is now laying against your legs.

your fingers immediately intertwine into his hair massaging soothing circles as you all continue the show.

“well i should have realized this would be an issue.” oikawa groans getting up from his place on the love seat stretching slightly only to be caught off balance slightly inebriated. “there are three rooms and four no five of us.”

iwaizumi groans show bing his friend to the ground. “obviously y/n would take my brothers room and we will each go two to a room or someone can sleep on the couch.” having already seen this outcome. “don’t want shittykawa corrupting our manager or scaring her away so soon into our third year.”

oikawa feints hurt looking over at you almost completely asleep on the couch hands still intertwined in mattsun’s hair who doesn’t look much more awake.

makki throws a couch pillow toward the two of you causing you to shoot up. “i wasn’t fucking asleep, and pervykawa i wasn’t even intending on staying the night.” sending a playful glare over towards him.

“you aren’t driving home drunk, my brothers door locks so no one will bother you. i’d say you can take my parents room, but two people are not comfortably fit on the other bed.” iwaizumi’s words still carrying authority even if he had finished more sake that anyone else.

you shrug yourself off the couch and head to the bathroom groaning about mattsun weighing too much and your legs being asleep.

you quickly washed your face and brushed your teeth, having assumed something like this would happen and packed just incase. slipped into your pajamas which were much more comfortable than your school uniform and headed towards the bedroom.

just probably the wrong bedroom.

you saw mattsun pulling his shirt off. not something uncommon. you’ve seen all the boys shirtless they tend to take them off sporadically through practice matches. just never realized how good his back looked.

“oh shit, y/n, i am not staying in this room just makki pushed me out of iwaizumi’s room probably to jerk it or something so i was changing in here since the bathrooms were taken..” he says eyeing over you not so subtly.

you brushed the thoughts running through your head about how good he looked like this, eyes half lidded, shirtless, hair messy.

“it’s nothing issei,” you say walking towards the bed not noticing how his body goes rigid at the casual mention of his name. “just tired.” and with that you slump into the bed legs still dangling off the end.

composing himself rather quickly he lifts your legs up and onto the bed sighing about how you’re hopeless.

“issei?” calling towards the door as he heads out.

“of course y/n?” he leans against it casually glancing back over to you. if he knew what he was doing he had to know how damn good at it he was. arm flexed, full chest on show.

“can i play with your hair again? till i fall sleep?” you say reaching an arm out towards him. a lazy smirk plastered on his face as he walks towards you and sits at the end of the bed where your hand can fall directly onto his head.

you giggle softly reaching towards his shoulder and pulling him up to you. not much work on your end as if you could lift him up from the ground with one hand. “what’s this?” he questions cocking and eyebrow towards you resulting in more giggles from you. maybe you had a bit more sake than you thought you did.

“why are you on the floor silly? you were laying on me earlier.” he reluctantly complies and slides you over in the bed so he can lay atop the blankets. iwaizumi was right. this bed was definitely not meant for the people to lay together unless it was in a compromising position.

“you know this bed is too small for this. my feet are hanging off the end.” he fake groans at you but any frustration he has is instantly pushed away when one of your arms snakes itself around his torso palming your hand on his chest and the other goes to his hair.

he reluctantly lets you move the blankets to cover him but stays flat as a board as you position yourself to be facing him laying your head against his shoulder. “what am i going to do with you.” he sighs wrapping his arm closest to you around your body and pulling you into his warmth.

“love me or something you mummer against his chest. his heart stops for a moment. head shooting down towards you only to be met with a slight grin. you open your eyes up to him and giggle softly. “come on say it.” you urge pulling only slightly on his hair still in you hand. his throat now feeling incredibly tight and full of cotton not knowing what would possess you to say this to him. did you know the feelings he kept deep down towards you?

“it’s okay,” you sigh still gazing up at him wrapping a leg around his to cuddle even closer to him. “you don’t have to love me issei.” you grumble. it was almost as if everything was moving in slow motion for him. your eyes closing the way you scooted you so you were closer to him, the way your hand in his hair pulled him ever so closer. then everything was on fire the moment your lips touched. he felt as if he would let go that instant that it wasn’t right, but at the same time he never wanted to let go for fear of never having this moment again. he never wanted to forget the way your lips felt on his. the way you were holding onto him as if everything in your life depended on it.

this moment. he wanted to live in it.

“i love you issei.” breaking the kiss before he could memorize everything about your lips. every curve ridge and slight crack. he wanted those lips on his forever.

before he could process anything that just happened, ask you if you really just did that you were already back in place on his chest fingers no longer moving against his hair and breathing completely even.

he sighed throwing his head back, careful still of your hand. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“i love you too.”

looking up from your daze of all your old high school memories you hear it again. “y/n? is that really you?”

your eyes meet. those eyes you longed to see. the eyes you had permanently etched in your brain. the eyes you for so long wanted to wake up to. those eyes that could see right through you. the eyes you missed seeing at your wedding.

“issei?”

[alwayschoosechocolate]

One-night stands and one-shot chances (part x)

University AU

Pairing: Jin x reader

Who says sex has to mean anything? Who says you can’t just screw around without all the heartache? Who says only guys get this privilege? What happens when the biggest playboy on campus suddenly meets his match and gets a taste of his own medicine?

Genre: casual sex, mentions of sex, bestfriend!Hoseok, onenightstand!Jin, romance

Word count: 4k

Taglist: @esplosionedicoloriintesta​​ @jeonjunggoodgod @rjsmochii​@spookidema​​ @pariz-lover​ @mymochimchimmy​ @seokjinnieismine​ @cloudyelizabeth​​ @livesmileandstaystrong​@thisistoooooomuch​@okaysoplshelpme​ @secondstanza​ @eanielsen07​ @lidda​ @6bottlesofwine​ @honeybeeforv​

Masterpost with the other parts of the story can be found here and my masterlist is here

A/N: Hi my loves! I am finally back with an update! Thank you for being so patient with me! I will try to be better moving forward. I even made a schedule for myself, so I should get better at posting regularly! Enjoy! And as always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Cuddling meant nothing. Cuddling meant nothing. Cuddling meant nothing.

Like a mantra, Jin chanted the words internally as the movie played on the screen in front of you.

No flirting. Nothing.

Gritting his teeth as he tried to pick up the movie playing on the screen once more, he reminded himself of how you always cuddled whoever was closest to you. It didn’t even have to be someone you knew. You were just always touching the person next to you. So that you were pressed against his side now with an arm draped across his stomach meant nothing, right?

Of course not. Before you had slept together, you had often cuddled him. Granted not alone in the house while watching a movie, but backhugs weren’t uncommon nor was the occasional shoulder rub.

Suddenly a lightbulb lit up in Jins head and he widened his eyes in realization.

If you didn’t consider cuddling to be flirting, then he could be as clingy as he wanted these days! No strings attached. No hidden meaning. Just free uncomplicated cuddles for an entire week!

Grinning at his own discovery, he suddenly felt way more at ease at the prospect of spending an entire week alone with you. He would just direct all his flirting into cuddling, and you would never need to know.

Settling deeper against the backrest of the couch, he confidently pulled you tighter in his embrace, making you look at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Just getting more comfortable. I’m getting sleepy and I don’t want to have neck pain from sitting in a weird position if I fall asleep,” he reasoned, doing his absolute best to hide his mischievous grin, when you simply shrugged your shoulders and allowed him to rest his head on the top of your head.

Fighting back the victorious smile from appearing on his lips, Jin took a deep breath as he tried to calm his heart. Despite the comfortable silence between you, the coziness of the blankets around you and the calmness of it all, he felt a tinge of danger in the air. Like a false sense of security.

He was so used to being on high alert around you that it felt wrong to actually be at ease with you.

“Can I ask you something?”, he asked, voice hesitant and slightly slurred as sleep had already seeped into his vocal cords.

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t we fighting right now? You usually hate me. What changed?”

Biting back a chuckle, you reached up to ruffle his hair slightly and heard him hum slightly in response.

“You did, Jin. You usually treat me like dirt, but you’ve been nice to me today, so I’m reciprocating that,” you spoke sincerely and giggled slightly when you saw him frowning in confusion. “It’s really that simple. You’re nice to me, I’m nice to you. If you treat me like you have been before, I’ll give back just the same.”

Silently taking in your words, he kept his gaze on the movie in front of him.

“So if I’m nice to you and treat you well, you’ll be nice to me as well? We can go back to being friends?”, he asked slowly as if picking out each word carefully, like a kid learning something new and repeating it back to make sure they actually understood it right.

“Sure. When you stop treating me like an unintelligent object that you only want to sleep with, then yeah, we can be friends,” you shrugged, shifting slightly so his head wasn’t resting on you anymore and you were able to face him instead. “I mean that, Jin. I never hated you, but I did hate how you talked to and about me.”

Giving him a slight glare at the memories, you saw him wince and avoid eye contact just the same as he had when you confronted him about calling you a whore.

“I know, I was an idiot,” he admitted, giving you a sheepish smile. “I’m really sorry. I promise I won’t treat you like that again. I really do want us to be friends and honestly I think it would make everything easier.”

Now it was your turn to tilt your head in confusion, only making Jin roll his eyes at you.

“Oh, come on. We both know this has been awkward for the others. Me constantly disappearing, us fighting all the time. We’re like an old married couple who should really just get a divorce, but we haven’t even been dating,” he chuckled with an amused smile as he got up to fetch some water, leaving you alone to sort through your thoughts.

Sure, you knew everyone had been a bit on edge, but had it really been that bad?

Vaguely remembering Hoseoks reminder for you to try to not disagree with more of his housemates, your felt a twinge of guilt shot through your chest. Maybe this whole thing with Jin had gotten out of control, you mused as you looked towards the sound of him moving around the kitchen. If that was true, then Jin was right. You should at least try to make it work. If anything, then for Hobi’s sake. You didn’t want to be the reason he disagreed with his housemates.

And you did make it work. The two of you spent the weekend bundled up on the couch watching movies, eating Jins excellent cooking and actually getting to know each other. Though most of the time was still spent squabbling and teasing each other, the air between the two of you had gotten a lot lighter and the teasing a lot more friendly.

As the weekdays rolled around, you found a new rhythm; you went to work in the morning and when you got home, Jin had cooked dinner for the both of you. There were no problems, no arguments, no name-calling and more importantly, there was no flirting at all.

Walking home Thursday evening, you found yourself actually looking forward to coming home to Jin and as you opened the door and was met the heavenly smell of roasted lamb, you bit your lip to contain a giddy giggle of happiness.

“I’m home,” you called out, as you slipped off your shoes and tossed your bag next to the couch, before walking to the kitchen, where Jin greeted you with a casual smile from his hunched over position in front of the stove.

“Hi flower! How was work?”

Grabbing a piece of carrot off the cutting board and popping it in your mouth, you gave him a smile and a shrug as you hopped up on the counter next to the stove.

“Fine. Can’t complain. The receipt printer is still broken though, so I had to write all the receipts by hand,” you chuckled with a headshake as you munched on your snack.

“And you’re laughing at that?”, he asked with an amused smile playing on his lips, eyes still locked on the content of the pots on the stove, as he carefully stirred the content.

As per usual when he was cooking all his focus was on the food. Carrying out a conversation was somewhat possible, but you had quickly realized that he never looked away from the food for too long.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, taking advantage of his distracted state to observe him. Actually, observe would be the wrong word to use. You were blatantly staring at him, but you couldn’t help it. There was just something unbelievably comforting about seeing him move around the kitchen so confidently as he cooked. “I couldn’t fix it or do anything about it, so there wasn’t really any point in getting annoyed.”

“Oh? So I guess you won’t be needing the bottle of wine I bought you?”

Widening your eyes at his words, you let out an excited giggle as you hopped off the counter and practically skipped the few meters to the fridge and eagerly pulled out the wine with a wide grin.

Turning around to find two glasses, you missed the way Jins eyes had followed your happy steps with a fond smile and how he was now shaking his head with a soft chuckle, before he turned back to the stove.

Walking back to him, you carefully snuck your arms under his to give him an awkward backhug, holding both glasses in front of his chest to make sure you wouldn’t spill it.

“Thought so,” he hummed with a knowing smirk as he accepted one of the glasses and clinked it with yours, before you withdrew from the embrace taking your glass with you.

“How did you know I would like a glass of wine today?”, you asked, as you hopped back up to your vantage position now with your wine in hand.

“I didn’t really,” he shrugged with a cheeky smile, as he put the wine glass down on the opposite side of the stove. “But I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a bottle around.”

“Kim Seokjin,” you scolded with a laugh clinging to your words. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“From a shared bottle of wine?”, he snorted out in a laugh, as he sent you a sassy smirk. “I know you well enough to know, that it takes a lot more than that to get you drunk.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Mr. the-mininum-of-shots-per-round-is-5,” you countered, as you raised a knowing eyebrow at him.

“There is no need to drag the eyebrow into this, missy,” he scolded, reaching up to tap his index finger against said eyebrow, causing both of you to break out in cackling laughs.

“So what did you do today?”, you inquired as you crossed your legs under you on the tabletop and took a sip of your wine.

“Not much. Went for a run, walked around town for a bit -” waited for you to come home – “nothing too wild,” he ended, sending you a small smile before turning off the stove and arranging the food on plates for you. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

“Uh, I was scrolling through insta on my break and found this recipe for a homemade facemask, I wanted to try,” you explain excitedly, while accepting the plate he offered you. “It’s like moisturizing and supposedly really good. I’m gonna try and make it after dinner and probably watch a series while it sits.”

“Mind if I join you?”, he asked, smiling at the way your face lit up in excitement.

“Sure, I can make like a big portion so there’s enough for both us,” you nodded as you dug into the food, already doubling up the quantities it would take to make enough for two facemasks in your head.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Jin chuckled anxiously, feeling his ears burn in embarrassment. “Why would I want to do a facemask? I just wanted to join you for the tv series.”  

Raising an eyebrow at his statement, you tilted your head as you calmly finished chewing the bite in your mouth, before answering him.

“Why wouldn’t you want to do a facemask? It’s simple skincare, Jin.”

“Isn’t it a bit girly to do facemasks?”, he snorted, only making you squint your eyes at him.

“It’s a facemask, Jin. How on earth do you find that girly? Skincare isn’t gendered.” You tone was teasing, but the ice behind your words was hard to miss. “Besides, we agreed that this house would be both sexless and genderless this week, so even if it was, your words has absolutely no weight here,” you spoke in a firm voice, popping another piece of food in your mouth as your calmly observed him. “Your sexist understanding of the world has no hold in this house, Jin.”  

Feeling your eyes piercing through his and hearing the firmness in your voice, left him feeling like a little boy after a scolding, and his ears burned as he thought about how incredibly stupid you must think him to be.

That was until he heard your giggling ringing through the room, making him snap his head back up to find your eyes sparkling and your face split in a breathtaking grin.

“I’m just toying with you, Jin,” you laughed, only feeling slightly guilty for the horrified expression on his face. “You are wrong though. Very much so. But this lamb is so delicious that I’m gonna let it slide,” you winked at him, as you took another bite. “And we’re both gonna do the facemasks later, because it will be good for us and I really want to do this with you.”

Turning back to your food, you missed the way Jins face scrunched up in irritation at your words.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re unbelievably bossy?”, Jin scoffed, as he tried to stop his heart from galloping away in panic at the mere thought of making you angry at him again.

“Of course,” you giggled with a mischievous grin. “Hobi says it’s one of my key characteristics.”

“Well, he would know,” he muttered under his breath, as he silently finished his dinner, only faintly aware of you talking about the annoying customers you had had that day.

Pushing his food around in his plate, he felt annoyance stir in his veins. This wasn’t the first time you had shot him down and sure, he had said some incredibly mean things to you at some of those instances, but enough was enough.

“Remember, when you told me that how you treat me depends on how I treat you?”, he asked, interrupting your story about the non-fat double chocolate girl and making you slightly flustered, as you simply nodded with wide eyes at his firm tone and stern eyes. “Well, I’ve been nothing but kind to you this week. Cooking for you, buying your favorite snacks and drinks. Hell, we only watch the movies you want to watch, because God forbid, we watch something without a female lead,” he mocked with an eye-roll, as he forcefully put his unfinished plate down on the counter with a loud clank, making you flinch in surprise. “And I can live with that. But you need to stop treating me like a child. You boss me around, you mock me and you make me feel like the most idiotic person on the planet. Yes, you might know more than me about certain things, but there are other ways of letting me know that, than rolling your eyes and belittling me! I need you to stop it!”

With each word his voice rose and by the end he was heaving for air and had his fists clenched by his side, as he all but glared at you.

Eyes still widened in surprise by his outburst, you found it impossible to break the intense eye contact between you, as you took in his clearly frustrated state.

“You’re right,” you spoke softly, as realization hit you. “I’m so used to being on the fence about people being assholes to me, and you used to be one of those people. But you’re right. You’re not anymore, so I shouldn’t have kept treating you like one. I’m sorry, Jin.”

Your apology was sincere and the second Jin heard it in your soft voice, the anger evaporated and left him feeling empty. Not even better, just empty.

“I- Yes, exactly!”, he rushed out, frantically trying to hang on to the anger, causing you to smile gently at him.

“You’re not used to people apologizing to you, are you?”, you asked him softly, as you slowly slid down from the counter and walked over to his side and gingerly wrapped your arms around him as if afraid of breaking him. “I’m sorry, I belittled you. I really am. And I promise, as long as you’re kind to me, I won’t be such an asshole to you. But please stop being mad at me. I don’t like seeing you upset,” you spoke against the fabric of his hoodie, turning your face slightly and pressing a kiss to the soft skin on his neck.

Hugging him in complete silence, you allowed him his time to calm down, and when you finally felt his arms snake around you, you squeezed him tighter for a moment, squinting your eyes shut in the process when you felt him shake slightly in your arms.

“I’m sorry, I yelled at you,” he mumbled against your hair, his voice slightly unstable as he kept his hold on you firm. He felt the tears pressing for reasons he didn’t understand, he definitely didn’t need you to see them.

“’s okay. At least you didn’t call me any names this time,” you joked against his chest in an attempt to lighten the mood, though shock shot through you, when you realized what you had just said.

Pulling back from the hug with eyes widened in regret of your own words, an apology ready on your lips, it was all forgotten the second your eyes fell on his tear-glazed eyes.

“Oh, Jinnie. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry,” you rushed out in concern, as you reached up to cup his cheek, only to have Jin swat your hand away and walk away from you as an incomprehensible sentence left his lips, leaving you to look after his figure in bewilderment as you saw him disappear into his room and close the door after him.

“Dammit,” you whispered to yourself, as you felt the ache in your heart at his tears. Shuffling your weight from one foot to the other as you contemplated what to do, you felt completely torn and aimless as you stood alone in the middle of the kitchen. “You really should just leave him alone,” you muttered to yourself as your feet slowly carried you towards his door. “You really shouldn’t meddle. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it,” you scolded yourself quietly, as you stopped in front of his door.

Raising your hand to knock, you let it hover over the wood for a second, before letting your hand fall back against your side and leaning your head against the door frame.

He didn’t want your help. That’s why he walked away. You knew this. You needed to respect his boundaries, you reminded yourself. He had just scolded you for treating him like a child, and here you were ready to barge into his room to console him, like some overprotective mother. Lifting your head from the doorframe, your gaze stayed locked on the door, as if trying to see through it and make sure Jin really was alright on the other side. As the sight of his tear-filled eyes popped into your mind again, it took everything in you to not barge through the door to get to him.

Forcefully pulling yourself back from his door, you steered yourself to the kitchen and quietly started cleaning up with a sigh.

Normally the process would be accompanied by music from Jin’s little red speaker sitting on the windowsill, but it felt disrespectful to play it without him, so you worked in silence, packing up the leftovers, washing both the dishes and pots and pans and wiping down the counters.

As you finished, all that was left was the half-empty wineglasses staring back at you from the otherwise empty counter. Glaring at them in annoyance, you let out a sigh of defeat as you picked them up and cleaned them up as well. Staring around the empty and clean kitchen, you felt fidgety and aimless.

“What now?”, you sighed to yourself, as you thought back to your original plan.

You were definitely not in the mood for facemasks or tv series. Throwing a look towards the hallway and Jin’s room, you felt your feet carry you towards him once more, and this time you made no attempt to stop yourself.

When your knocks sounded through the hallway, your heart leapt into your throat and for a second you contemplated just slipping into Hoseok’s room on the other side of the hall and acting like you were never there.

“What?”

His voice was gruff and definitely not inviting in any way, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to make sure he was okay.

“Can I come in?”, you asked hesitantly, hand already resting on the doorknob.

“Why?”

“I just want to make sure, you’re okay. You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. I just want to be next to you. If you’ll let me.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, and when you finally heard his accepting grunt, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding, as you pushed open the door to Jin’s room.

The room was unlit and the light from the hallway threw long shadows on the opposite wall. You hadn’t been in there since that night, you realized as you closed the door behind you and carefully made your way across the room towards the bed, where Jin was lying on his back looking up at the ceiling.

Carefully taking a seat next to his figure, you were reminded of how he had been sprawled out on the bed sleeping the morning after when you had left the room. The memory left a faint smile on your lips, as you fiddled with your hands in your lap to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

Lifting your head to look at him, you found him already looking back at you. In the dark of the room, his eyes rested on your features and yours on his as you carried out a conversation though none of you uttered a single word.

I can’t talk about. I don’t even know why. I’m sorry, his eyes pleaded, making your heart soften.

You don’t have to, yours reassured him, as your hand fell into his giving it a comforting squeeze.

Lie with me?, he asked, as he gave your hand a barely existing tug, making you smile gently as you nodded and curled up next to him on the bed.

Feeling his arms settle around you and hearing the distraught sigh of contentment leaving his lips as he pulled you closer, strung your heartstrings even tighter than they had already been, and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

Goddammit, Y/n! What the hell is wrong with you, you scolded yourself mentally. Don’t tell me this is all it takes for you? You see him cry once and suddenly you’re back in his bed again?

Trying to distract yourself from your own head, you focused your energy on softly tracing patterns on Jin’s shirt, very careful not to get too close to his pants, as you were suddenly awkwardly aware of what had happened last time you were here.

This is ridiculous, you thought with an eye-roll.

You cuddled with all the others all the time. This was no different, you reminded yourself as you walked yourself through all the times you had cuddled with the others. Hell, Jungkook had even cupped your ass in his sleep once, and there was absolutely no awkwardness between the two of you.

And just as you had succeeded in calming down your mind, you heard a soft snore coming from the man next you. Lifting your head to look at his face, you found his features smoothed out in his sleep. Smiling at his peaceful state, you decided that leaving him to get some rest would probably be for the best, but as you tried to free yourself from his grasp, he stirred slightly in his sleep rolling onto his side and tightening his hold on you.

“Stay with me, flower” he whispered into the darkness, and though you had no idea if he was still sleeping or awake, you felt no need to argue with him, settling deeper against him and closing your own eyes.

// Part xi //

[thegreatestofheck]

One Small Family *A Secret Santa Gift*

happy holidays @popcsheyward!! I was your secret santa for @ijustreallylovethem ‘s gift exchange thing this year and I had so much fun writing this short gift for you! Just a quick thing, I’ve never written a fic with a protagonist who uses she/they pronouns, but I tried it out and I hope I did alright (but if I didn’t do it right, please let me know and I’ll fix it). I hope you enjoy and I hope your holidays are good and fun (despite or in spite of covid). 

Here it is, your found family fic!

It was Gracie’s first Christmas with the Pogues. 

They moved in with their grandparents after their father got caught in some work scandal and their mother thought it best they be away from all of the drama. For most of the summer, they spent their days alone, working at the surf shop their grandpa ran, until a group of wild teenagers came barrelling through. 

She didn’t even remember how they all got acquainted, or how they all became fast friends. One moment, they were spending their nights alone, and the next, they were partying every weekend and breaking every rule their parents gave to them. 

School started and they felt like they were thrown back into the thick of it once again. With Kie going to school at the kook academy, Gracie suddenly felt out of place with the boys. It took her some getting used to, finding her own relationship with each of them. 

She and Pope really bonded over school work. They weren’t used to the public school system, as they went to private school back in Seattle. But Pope really taught them the ropes; kissing up to teachers, turning homework in on time, every secret behind standardized testing. Free periods she wasn’t with JJ or John B, she was studying with Pope. 

John B taught her how to surf. He took them out to the beach at the ass crack of dawn, before the rooster in the front of his house began crowing. He taught them the basics in the early light and cheered them on when the sun rose. He was every motivation she ever needed to start doing the things she wanted to. He didn’t care what it was and apparently, it didn’t matter. Whatever Gracie wanted to do, she did because John B taught her how. 

JJ was the one who taught them how to live. And I mean really live. He took her out driving in the middle of thunderstorms, dancing with them in the parking lot outside of school when the rain came pouring down, taught them how to roll a blunt and shotgun a beer. Anything and everything that got her adrenaline going, she learned from JJ. 

But Kie kept them grounded. She kept them focused. With the boys constantly pulling her in every direction, Gracie needed someone to keep her mind on the important things. Pass your classes, take care of your grandparents, write to your mom and dad, work hard. Kie was strong and resilient and clever and Gracie loved her for it. 

But the semester had ended and now it was time for the holidays. With everyone being as poor as they were, it was decided early on that they would do a game of Secret Santa and the gifts had to be five dollars or less. Gracie had pulled JJ’s name out of the beat up old Santa hat. 

She had two weeks to get him something and it was beyond her what he could even want. They had a million thoughts at first, but none of them were coherent or even remotely plausible with the funds that they had. For nearly two weeks, she wracked her brain trying to think of something. 

They were walking the beach one day when they thought of it. 

They were up early, before most of the Pogues woke up. It was vacation after all, so most of her friends slept in. But she liked the morning. With the heavy fog still hanging over the land, the cold sand beneath their toes, the gentle waves lapping against the shore. It was chilly, but not cold, just enough to keep her senses awake. 

Her foot knocked into something as she wadded through the soft sand. With a start, Gracie leaned down and fished around in the sand until her hand found the cool glass of a bottle. They unburied it, holding the clear glass up to the sun that peaked through the fog just as it rose above the horizon. A plan began to form in their head and a smile pulled at their lips. 

Gracie tucked the glass bottle into her bag and ran back toward the parking lot where her skateboard was. They raced home as fast as their board would take them without falling and tearing their relatively new jeans. 

“Home so soon, Gracie?” Their grandmother called from the kitchen. 

“I figured out what I’m gonna do for JJ!” Gracie called back as they ran for their room. 

Their grandmother only chuckled, returning to whatever deliciously smelling thing that she was cooking on the stove. 

As soon as Gracie made it to her room, she dumped the beautiful glass bottle onto her bed. Their smile never faultered the entire time they ran around their room, from the rising of the sun to almost mid-day, they rummaged around their small space for any single thing that reminded them of her best friends. 

Shells and rocks that they had gathered, sea glass that they had found, a bracelet they had made, ribbons from their birthday present the Pogues had bought for them, a broken ping pong ball, a plastic gold coin, a ferry ticket, a fake shark tooth, and a dozen or so more small things that each had meaning to them and their friends, specifically JJ. 

It was difficult to deilicately shove everything into the small neck of the bottle and there were a few things that she had to leave out. Once everything was arrayed in the bottle to their liking, Gracie sat on her bed with floss from her collection for bracelet making. With a gleeful grin, they set about weaving another bracelet, specifically for JJ. Shades of green and blue and grey that reminded her of the ocean twisted together, woven together with every ounce of affection and care that they could pour into it. Even though their fingers ached and their palms cramped by the end of it, Gracie still couldn’t stop smiling. It was probably the cleanest bracelet they had ever made. 

The finishing touch of the present was to tie the bracelet around the neck of the bottle. Then, they sat back and admired their handiwork. 

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, the day that the Pogues had set on gifting their presents, Gracie was itching to give their present to JJ. She hadn’t even thought of the gift she was going to recieve until she saw the fifth present around the campfire. 

They all met at the beach. Kie had her ukelele, John B brought the beer, Pope brought the marshmellows, Gracie brought the graham crackers, and JJ had eaten most of the chocolate. They greeted each other with hugs and “Merry Christmas”s until John B couldn’t take it any longer. 

Kie opened her gift first. It was easy enough to tell that Pope had gotten it for her. He blushed all the way through her opening it, his shoulders slouched and his face lowered to the ground. He had gotten her a loosely knit sweater, just the kind that Kie loved to use to cover her bakinis. She grinned like an idiot as she held it in her hands. 

“There’s also this, but I didn’t know how to wrap it,” Pope said. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ukelele pick. It was small and beautifull painted. 

“Did you paint this yourself?” Kie asked, aghast. 

Pope perked up slightly as he nodded. 

“You left it behind once when you were over and I kept forgetting to give it back. So, it was technically already yours but-” 

“I love it, Pope.” Kie threw her arms around his neck and Pope seemed unsure what to do with himself. “Thank you.” 

Pope opened his next. He looked up at JJ, knowing that it came from him before Pope had finished unwrapping it. JJ was hiding a smug grin behind his hands in an attempt to keep up the anonimity. 

“Dude, seriously?” There was annoyance in Pope’s voice, but he was smiling. 

“Seriously!” 

“Let us see,” John B said, reaching his hand out to snatch the present but Pope pulled it back. 

“No way,” Pope laughed. “No one is ever seeing this.” 

“My turn!” JJ yelled to pull attention away from his gift to Pope. 

Gracie couldn’t help but smile as JJ picked up his gift. They could barely contain their excitment and JJ clearly couldn’t either. 

He tore the wrapping off in one swift motion, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. 

“What is it?” Kie asked, head tilted to the side. 

“It’s us,” JJ said, staring at each of the things on the inside. “The recipit from the first day we met Gracie. Our first movie ticket. Our one trip to the mainland.” 

JJ prattled off all of the little memories, pointing at each thing as he said it. Gracie could have cried. They weren’t sure JJ would remember any of them, but he remembered them all. The others joined in with little side stories about the different things and Gracie couldn’t stop the tears that rolled from her eyes. 

“Awww, don’t cry!” Kie mused, leaning over to give them a hug. 

“I’ve just never had friends like you guys,” Gracie said as she quickly wiped away her tears. “I’m so glad you like it.” 

JJ fiddled with the bracelet tied to the neck of the bottle, still smiling. 

“Can I wear this?” He asked. 

“If you want to,” Gracie told him. 

“Help me put it on.” 

Gracie obliged, tying the bracelet around JJ’s slender wrist. Once it was on, he lifted it into the light of the fire so the others could see. He wore it like a badge of pride. 

“I’m never taking it off.” 

Gracie wasn’t sure how she was supposed to deal with the flurry of emotions that brewed in her gut, so they bent down and picked up the gift with her name scrawled across it. 

She unwrapped it, finding a rainbow of emroidary floss tied together with a thin black ribbon. There most have been a dozen new colors. Their jaw fell open and tears pricked at her eyes again. Gracie looked up at John B, knowing that he was the only one who could have gotten her this gift. 

“I was running low,” she said, her voice quiet. 

John B just smiled, leaning back on his hands, looking as pleased with himself as ever. 

“I know.” 

Gracie gave him a brief hug before he picked up his own gift, the last of the night. 

Kie had gifted John B a picture in a picture frame and even though Gracie was sitting right next to him, they couldn’t see what it was. But John B just stared at it, eyes shimmering with tears and mouth parted ever so slightly. His smugness had faded. He pressed the frame to his chest and looked over at Kie, who was looking on with watery eyes. 

“Thank you,” he mouthed, unable to even form words. 

Gracie leaned over to look and he showed her. 

The picture was of the five of them from a day at the beach. They were happy, smiling, grinning from ear to ear. Gracie couldn’t even remember what day it had come from. At the bottom was a short note written in sharpie. 

“From your family,” it read. “Signed, Kie, Pope, JJ, and Gracie.” 

This was the first Christmas that John B had to spend without his dad. It was the first he would spend without a family. Kie had come to each of them asking for one small favor for their friend. None of them thought it was a bad idea. 

The sappy feelings everyone felt in their gut was quickly replaced by JJ’s plea to go skinny dipping, which they all obliged to. 

After they were soaked through their skin, they returned to the campfire for sining and s’mores. The sun was long gone by the time they were feeling tipsy and a little bit like they should probably head home. JJ would be going home with John B, of course. Christmas was no time for him to be around his dad. Gracie was almost tempted to ask if she could come, but she knew this Christmas was important to her grandparents. Maybe next Christmas. 

As Kie drove her home that night, Gracie knew that every Christmas from that day forward she would be spending with the Pogues. She wanted to do this every year until she was old and wrinkling and unable to see any more. 

After all her time of searching and hoping and praying for a group of friends who accepted her for who she was and who loved her for all of her shortcomings, Gracie had finally found it. It was their own little family, a family that was closer than blood because they weren’t bound by blood. 

There was nothing that Gracie wouldn’t do for the Pogues. And Gracie knew, deep down, there was nothing their friends wouldn’t do for them either. 

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Nine - The King and the Thief

Needless to say, I spent my weekend thinking about Victor and that particular event in my kitchen. My heart lingered in the memory of his warmth like a guilty pleasure, while my mind kept telling me what a bad idea it was to fall in love, especially with my boss. But my greatest flaw and virtue came to this one thing: no matter the dispute between my head and my heart, my heart always had the upper hand. That was something that gave me both great joy and great grief.

I wondered if something meaningful would’ve happened if his phone didn’t ring, and my heart beat yes. My mind though, warned me of the danger of misreading signs, particularly in this case. A wrong step could break both my heart and my career, but the humiliation would be even worse.

I arrived at the office promising myself I would only focus on work and nothing else. I was probably seeing things, anyway. That guy probably had all the women he could have, attractive tall women with beautiful hair and eyes of exotic colors, supermodel material. What would he want to do with a plain brown haired and brown eyed short girl?

I walked quickly to my old desk, expecting to see all my stuff there again. I imagined he wanted the privacy of his office back again, and since I did a good job in Creekwood, my punishment would be over. But my old desk was stubbornly empty. Goldman saw me and came to me.

“What are you doing here? Victor wants you in his office. Now.” Goldman’s voice was way too serious for my liking.

“Is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, feeling a little nervous.

“How the hell should I know?!?” Goldman was clearly irritated. “Do you think he writes me a memo every time he gets pissed?”

I raised my hands, urging him to calm down.

“Ok, ok, I’m going. Jeez.”

I knocked before coming in. Victor raised his eyebrows at me.

“Why did you knock? You work here. You don’t have to knock.” His voice had a touch of anger, but it didn’t seem directed at me. I relaxed.

“I was just trying to be polite.” I answered, concealing the fact that I was not wanting to aggravate him even more.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you speaking to Goldman just now. Glass doors.” He pointed at the doors, and then looked me straight in the eyes, calling my bluff. “How long will it take you to figure out you don’t have to be afraid of me?”

“I’m not. I’m not afraid.” I didn’t lie, I wasn’t. Sure, Victor could be harsh, and I surely didn’t want to feel the effects of his anger, but it wasn’t fear. Respect, maybe? I couldn’t put my finger on it. “It came from respect, not fear.” I added. Victor kept his gaze on me, like he was confirming if I was being truthful.

“I need you to take a look at these.” He said, handing me a folder.

“They’re Ted’s partners.” I said, recognizing the companies names in the documents. “Is something wrong?”

“The accounting department noticed some inconsistencies on money transfers to these companies. Probably some data was lost when the servers went down. You worked with Ted, perhaps you can fill in the gaps.” He tried to keep a nonchalant tone, but his almost unperceptively furrowed brow spoke volumes. This was troubling him.

“Where is Ted? These are his clients, after all.” I asked, starting to feel a bit tense. I didn’t want to be the one causing Ted trouble.

“He’s not answering his phone.” Victor almost whispered. “I need you to do it.” He ended the conversation right there, turning to his laptop.

I turned to my own laptop and opened the server files for those companies, comparing them with the transfer receipts in the folder. After some time, I could see why Victor was so upset. The transfers were each over a hundred thousand dollars, all of them combined indicating a loss of millions. After checking with the company files, I found nothing that could indicate why he had transferred those amounts. I started rubbing my forehead in distress. Victor quickly picked up on that.

“Something’s wrong?” He came closer, eyeing my screen.

“I can’t really find why these transfers were made. You should really ask Ted, before making any assumptions.” I could feel Victor’s warmth irradiating from his body. And he smelled so good. Why the hell does he have to smell so good? “Or maybe…” I said, trying not to get lost in his scent. ”Maybe I could just email the partners, tell them we had a server problem, ask them to confirm the transfers? I know it’s a bit of exposure, but we would find out.”

Victor rested his elbow on my desk, supporting his chin with his hand.

“Yes, send an e-mail to the partners. Let’s hear from them.”

We both resumed our work, and after I had sent emails to pretty much every one of Ted’s partners, I heard Victor answer a phone call.

“Ted?” It was visible Victor was trying to control his anger. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since last night!” He paused, hearing from the other line. “The server went down, we are missing some information about some money transfers you made.” Another pause. “Send them to Andrea as soon as possible. She’ll update the files for you. Feel better.”

I was hanging on the edge of my seat.

“So?” I asked.

“This is why I insist you backup all your work outside the servers! Information gets lost and then it’s all on you!” He spoke loudly than usual, but I could see he was just venting. He noticed his tone, and softened it a bit. “He caught the flu, he’ll stay home for a few days. He is going to email you the receipts. Do you have the reports from our business trip?” He said, leaning on his seat and exhaling, seemingly relieved.

“I have the drafts, I was going to finish them this morning. If you have nothing else, I’ll finish them right now.”

“Yes, do that. Take your time, I just need them for the afternoon.” He got up and was about to leave, but then turned to me. “I’m going to get myself some coffee, would you like some?”

“I can get it for both of us. I need to peel my eyes off the screen for a few minutes.” I said, getting up.

“Come along, then. I need the same.” Victor said, opening the door for me and following close behind. We headed for the coffee room.

He grabbed the pot before I could and filled two cups with coffee.

“Sugar?” He asked, holding a sugar packet.

“Just black, thank you.” I said, absent mindedly. I was leaning against the table, watching a different scene unfold. Victor came to my side, handing me the coffee cup. We stood silent for a while.

“What are we looking at?” He asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Goldman and Diane.” I had been watching Goldman bring Diane coffee from a known coffee house we usually frequented. They were chatting and smiling at each other.

“They’re just talking.” Victor said, furrowing his brow.

“No, no. You see, he brought her coffee.” I said, giving Victor a meaningful look. “And not just any coffee. By the way she reacted, he knows how she likes her coffee.”

“And? It’s just coffee.” He wasn’t really getting it. Of course he wasn’t. Some men.

“No, it’s not just coffee. It’s a thoughtful act. You guys think we need grand gestures, serenades in the moonlight, and large bouquets of roses. Sometimes all it takes is a cup of coffee.”

“Is that so?” Victor smiled and I could see he was mocking me. “I bet if someone did the same to you, you wouldn’t even notice.”

“If someone was that thoughtful to me, I would.”

“Idiot.” Victor shook his head, chuckling. He grabbed his cup of coffee and walked towards the office.

I was left by myself fuming. What the hell did he mean with that? And what the hell did he know anyway? He wouldn’t know love even if it hit him in his nose.

I took my time to finish my coffee, hoping the heat in my face would eventually fade away.

When I got to the office, Victor was focused on his laptop. I opened mine and noticed my inbox was full of unread messages.

“Your computer has been beeping non-stop.” Victor said, not taking his eyes from his computer.

I read the first message and my heart nearly stopped. Praying to be wrong, I read five more. They all said the same.

“What the hell, Ted...” I said, under my breath.

“What’s the matter?” Victor asked, as he got up and stood behind my chair, bending to look at my screen. I took a deep breath and started opening the emails for Victor to see.

“The partners answered me. None of them recognizes the transfers, or the account numbers, for that matter. I’m sorry, I should have checked the account numbers, it totally slipped my mind…” I rubbed my forehead, overwhelmed with the situation. Ted, one of the closest coworkers I had at LFG, was embezzling? If this was hitting me hard, I could only imagine how Victor must have felt. They seemed friends.

Victor stood up and just kept looking at the screen, lost in his inner turmoil. His expression turned from one of disappointment to anger. He lightly squeezed my shoulder and spoke softly, even though he couldn’t completely hide the heat in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think of it either. We both wanted to believe in his innocence.” He went to his laptop and closed it, taking his cellphone and jacket. He walked to the door, turning before leaving.

“Finish the reports and go home. I will be away all afternoon. I will call you later if I need anything.”

And with that, he closed the door behind him.

I finished my reports, not caring for lunch, and went home early. I took a shower and put on my slacks and a cotton sweater, deciding to make a tea for myself. Even after the steaming shower, it was hard for me to relax. I knew Ted had his flaws, but it was hard to believe he would do that. Specially to Victor, who he seemed to respect so much. I was startled from my thoughts by my ringtone. It was Victor.

“Are you home yet?” He asked, his voice was tense.

“For about an hour now. Do you need anything?”

“No, just… Calling to see if you got home safely.” I could hear exhaustion in his voice, but most of all, I could hear sadness. His voice was of someone who carried the entire world on his shoulders.

“So he did do it?” I asked shortly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. Victor sighed loudly, but didn’t say a word. After a moment, he spoke again.

“I’ll need you to come to work tomorrow at 7 am. I’ll have someone pick you up.”

“You don’t need to send anyone to pick me up. My car is working, I can drive myself.” I wasn’t seeing the point of being driven when I could perfectly do it on my own.

“Ted’s clients have been calling and emailing me since this morning.” Victor quickly changed the subject. “He seriously compromised the company with his inefficient work and we need to deal with it fast. Since you worked closely with his accounts, you’re the best choice to help me fix it.”

“I already said I would go, I was just pointing out you don’t need to send anyone for me, I’ll go by myself like I have been since ever.”

I heard Victor sigh once again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, ok? Just do as you’re asked. When the car arrives, just get in and come to LFG.”

And with this he hung up. I went to the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of tequila. If I wanted to relax, I’d need something stronger than tea.

[just-a-happening]

Body Pillow | T.H.

Summary: In which you try to make your time spent away from Tom a little easier but your plan works a little too well for his liking.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1,300

Author’s Note: hello this is my first time writing like this so pls be gentle!

Long distance was hard.

Despite practically sharing an apartment, you sometimes went weeks, even months, without seeing your boyfriend while he was away filming. You did your best to fill the space–FaceTiming twice a week, phone calls every night, spontaneous weekend visits–but you had yet to find the cure to an empty bed.

It was always hard, putting on a brave face while dropping him off at JFK.

“I’ll be home before you know it darling,” he promised every time, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You won’t even have time to miss me.”

Things took a turn for the worst when he left to shoot Far From Home. Not only were you not allowed on set due to confidentiality issues–Tom compared it to being quarantined–but he didn't get a break until halfway through filming, meaning you wouldn’t see each other for four months; the longest you’d ever been apart.

At first, you took in stride. You weren’t going to be one of those girls, the kind that fell apart the moment your boyfriend wasn’t around. 

“Do you miss me yet?” he’d ask, his pixilated face smiling softly at you. 

Your schedules were off now that he was in Europe, but you had a small window between you getting home from work and his bedtime. 

You’d scoff, deflecting the question. “I’ll tell you what I don’t miss, taking cold showers because you used up all the hot water.”  

Unfortunately, after downing an entire bottle of Pinot Grigio at your weekly wine night at your best friend’s place, you realized, much to your friend’s amusement, that you were, in fact, one of those girls. 

You tried it all. From sleeping on his side, to sleeping in the middle, you even spent nights on the couch in front of the TV to avoid the bedroom all together; nothing seemed to ease the dull ache in your chest from missing Tom.  

The bed felt too big, too cold without him.

You didn’t even have Tess to keep you company. Tom had left her with his brother Sam back in London, insisting that he didn’t want to burden you with her for the next several months. 

You spent the nights eating Chinese takeout on the couch, because Tom usually cooked, making a significant dent in your Netflix watch list. 

You got the idea while roaming the aisles of the nearest Target. Tessa had accidentally destroyed one of your throw pillows last time she was at your place (Tom’s fault, of course, not hers) and you’d been meaning to find a replacement. You turned down the wrong aisle, though, stumbling upon the body pillows instead.

You didn’t solve your throw pillow dilemma that day, but you did find a solution to your empty bed syndrome.

Finally, you were sleeping through the night again. It wasn’t the same as cuddling him–definitely not as fun, but with much less kicking involved–but after a few weeks, it became the only way you could fall asleep. 

You never mentioned it to Tom, a little embarrassed to admit just how much you missed him.

At first, Tom found it adorable.

“I think it’s cute,” he teased when he first got home. He held the pillow up so that they were side by side. “You know, I can kind of see the resemblance.”

You’d just roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Maybe we could buy it a Spider-Man costume, mask and all. Then you really wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I’m going to smack you with it.”

One night the two of you were in bed. Tom was scheduled to fly back out to Atlanta at the end of the week so you were making the most of your time together, which really just meant having enough sex to tide you over the three months until he was home for good.

“I missed this,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I missed you,” he’d mumble back.

Tom’s mouth trailed deliciously hot kisses down your neck, his fingers tugging down the strap of your tank top to pepper kisses over your shoulder before reaching down and pulling it off in one swift movement. 

You cupped his face and pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him slowly, fingers tangled in his hair, committing every move to memory. Both of you wanted to preserve this moment as best as you could.

You broke apart, squealing when Tom shifted with lightning speed, rolling on top of you. He was peering down at you, his eyes mischievously bright, grinning smugly.

“Can your pillow do this?” he winked, before disappearing under the covers.

“You know, you are so annoy–oh,” your eyes fluttered shut. “No, it can’t.”

It wasn’t until he was back home from filming that he started to notice how much of a problem it had actually become. He knew you’d grown attached to it, sure, but he didn’t expect you to keep cuddling the damn thing while he was in bed with you.

He would make up in the middle of the night to find that the stupid pillow was between you, your arms clutching it for dear life. Several times he tried to slide it out from under you, but you would frown in your sleep.

Once, he accidentally woke you up.

“What’re you doing?” you muttered groggily, pulling the pillow closer.

He just sighed and collapsed back into bed, defeated. “Sorry love, just getting comfortable.”

You were cleaning the apartment one afternoon and you found your pillow folded neatly on the top shelf of the storage closet. When you confronted Tom about it he just shrugged, insisting that he had no idea how it got there.

“Maybe it was the cleaning lady,” he said casually, not even bothering to look up from the magazine he was reading. 

You crossed your arms, giving him a flat look he couldn’t see. “I don’t have a cleaning lady.”

“We should get you a cleaning lady.” 

Tom would lay awake at night, plotting ways to get rid of it while making it look like an accident. He’d never want to hurt your feelings, but he missed his girlfriend.

You finally caught on to what was happening when you caught him trying to feed it to a very uninterested Tessa, probably hoping it would suffer the same fate as your throw.

“You’re jealous.”

Tom scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”

His too-quick reply only confirmed your suspicions. “Oh my God, you are!”

“I am not jealous!” he argued defensively. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

You poked his side affectionately. “Are you worried I love it more than I love you?”

He glared at you. “Don’t even joke.”

One night he’d had enough. You were both sitting in bed, him scrolling through Twitter, you reading a book, your pillow between you. He looked between you and the pillow once before setting his phone down and snatching it off the bed.

You glanced up from your book, confused. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tucked the pillow under his arm and walked out the bedroom door towards the kitchen. You were so stunned you didn’t even get out of bed to follow him.

It sounded like he was rifling through one of the cabinets followed by the unmistakable sound of a garbage bag being shaken out. You then heard the front door open and close, the deadbolt sliding back into place.

Seconds later, Tom walked back into your room empty-handed.

You raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “Are you sure you weren’t jealous?”

“Absolutely positive,” he said, crawling back into bed.

You watched him as he made his way to your side on his hands and knees, his hair falling into his eyes. He reached over and plucked your book out of your hands, tossing it over his shoulder. You made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

You giggled as he pulled you to him, your head finding his chest and your arms automatically winding around his middle.

He hummed happily, “Much better.”

“What about next time you leave?” you asked, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Nothing could replace this feeling, you thought.  

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he murmured into your hair. 

You closed your eyes, the warmth of his body pressed up to yours lulling you to sleep. You shook your head drowsily. 

“I don’t need a new one,” you yawned. “I just need you to promise to always come back.”

“I swear.” 

[justjessame]

A Reluctant Hero Chapter 12

JD left after accepting the job that came in as soon as he turned his phone back on, but not before yanking me to him and kissing me thoroughly.  A tiny nip to my bottom lip, the dark hungry look still in his eyes, promising me he’d see me soon, he was gone.  I shook my head and swallowed down the rush of lust that he’d created with a single fucking kiss, and tried to decide if food or work would be my first course of action.  

Kelsey found me in the kitchen, having seen her dad leaving she decided to come see if I was still capable of speech, or movement, I thought as I caught her smirking.  “What?”  I asked, pulling out the ingredients for French toast.  “Hungry?”

“Looks like Dad had you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she offered, her smirk growing into a full blown smile.  “Seriously, you have a little-” she gestured to her own neck and I felt my eyes widen.  He hadn’t.

I turned my head and tossed my hair back as I studied my neck in the reflection of the microwave glass door, and sure enough, a bite mark.  Shit.  I groaned and then glared when she laughed.  “Not funny, Kelsey.”  I pulled my hair back down, but then sighed as I looked at the ingredients in front of me.  Hair hanging meant a greater chance of eating said hair by accident, fuck.  I sighed and pulled it back and twisted it into a knot as I pulled open the junk drawer and grabbed a hair tie.  “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that he-”  I was muttering, trying to flip through ALL the times we came together and remember the feeling of him BITING me, but nothing came.  Nothing other than the flush caused by how good every time he touched me felt.  Or the images of his body, naked and glistening with sweat as it hovered over mine.  Fuck.  

“You just went red, pale, and then let out a gasp,” she offered from the stool she was studying me from.  “You want me to leave you alone to take care of whatever caused all that?”  

I shot her another look and picked up the first egg.  Cracking it with more force than necessary, I ignored her.  Eggs, cinnamon, a hint of cream, vanilla, then thick slices of bread before adding each to the lightly buttered pan.  “Grab the powdered sugar, syrup, and I think there’s some whipped cream in the fridge-”

“You didn’t use that with-”  I groaned out loud at the very idea that my best friend kept mentioning the sex she was insinuating I’d had with her own father.  “Joking, Ani, God get a grip.”

“Let’s never, ever, ever discuss YOUR dad and me-”

“Screwing like rabbits?”  She offered, which earned her another sharp look.  “Fine, but I’m your closest friend, so if not me, then who?”  

JD called a few hours after Kelsey had tortured me to her heart’s content.  He was elbows deep in a case, but he wanted to hear my voice.  After reminding me of all the ways he liked to hear my voice, he sighed and said he had to go.  My answering sigh was met with a low chuckle and he promised me that he was just as eager to see and hear me in person as soon as possible.  

I had gone back to my desk, listening to the voicemails from the calls I’d missed while we were ‘occupied’, I rolled my eyes at Roger’s insistence that he wanted to speak to me again.  Hearing my dad sound irritated that Pandi was down, and that I’d closed the loopholes for him to backdoor his way into the AI’s system.  I knew I’d have to call him back, but work called to me.  

Getting lost in the story I’d been working on, I ignored the reminder that Roger had shown up at my house AGAIN while JD and I were locked in our own bubble.  I took heart in knowing that he hadn’t been able to breach my security, but it was annoying regardless.  Pandi broke through as I fell into a world of my own creation, telling me that once again, Roger was on my doorstep.  

Asking for the intercom, I kept typing as I spoke.  “If you don’t remove your lying, cheating ass from my property, Roger, I will be forced to electrify the door, the porch, and the fucking pathway.  While seeing you flail around as current flows through your sorry ass would amuse me, I hear the paperwork for such shit is enormous and a pain in the ass to fill out, so kindly fuck off.” 

“Ani, come on, you know that you can’t throw away what we had.”  He was pleading, while trying to make it sound seductive and alluring.  I snorted.  “Do you really think that JD Richter, hero at large, is gonna be happy with you after screwing a hybrid astronaut?”  Nice, first try to remind me of how ‘good’ we had it, then insult me.  “I mean, have you SEEN Molly Woods?”  Even better, show that you’d fuck her, you more moron.

“Roger, what we had was at best temporary insanity for me, at worst it showed how fucking desperate I was for sex with something not battery powered.”  Take that, you tasteless prick.  “As for JD and his past?  I have seen Molly Woods, and he and I have talked about her.”  Again, what did he think, I just randomly hump hot men?  “He seemed pretty fucking happy after we spent almost 24 hours locked in MY house, which again, I want you to walk away from.  This is your last warning, Roger.  Leave now, never darken my fucking door again, or ZAP.”  I hadn’t stopped writing, multitasking wasn’t only something JD excelled in.  

“Fine, but don’t call me when your little rebound implodes.”  I truly snorted so hard I had to stop typing.  Shit, honestly?  “I mean it, I’m moving on-”

“With the coed?”  I offered, through giggles that the snort had turned into.  “Great, let me know where you register.  I won’t buy you a wedding gift, but fuck if I won’t laugh at the teething toys she picks out for playtime.”  With that parting shot, I told Pandi to turn off the intercom, but watched the camera to make sure he flounced off, and hoped that he’d go asshole over head again so I could keep the good times rolling.  Sadly he didn’t fall down, he shot the camera a glare and then walked calmly to his car.  I sighed and wondered if he would stay fucking gone this time.  

I answered my dad’s call as I was making breakfast the next morning.  I could hear his frustration in just the ringing of the phone, but the heaviness of it in his tone caused another eye roll.  

“Dad,” I cut him off before he could gain steam at how irresponsible it was to ignore the world, meaning him clearly, for whatever idiotic reason I could have had.  “I wanted, no I needed, time alone.”  With JD, and his naked body, and fuck, where was I?  “I don’t know what the big deal is, we used to ‘unplug’ every weekend when we went camping.”  

“Yes, but then I had you in my sight and I could keep you-”  I heard him huff an exaggerated sigh.  “Anilea, you have to understand that you’re my little girl.  No matter how old you get, no matter how independent you are, you’re still my daughter.”

“I understand that,” I sat down with my full breakfast and put him on speakerphone.  “But you have to get that I AM an adult, Dad.  Putting surveillance software on my AI, or GPS trackers on my car, or any of the other ‘protective’ measures you want to take is stifling.  Trust that you raised me to be careful, please?”

“Roger-” he started, and I groaned.  “You have to admit, Ani, he’s not the first in a long line of assholes that took advantage of you.  He lived in your house, ate food you bought and prepared, paid no bills, and I’d bet money that you even bought him things he mentioned he liked.”  So?  I like to give people gifts, and what better gifts than things I knew they wanted?  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be generous.  Kelsey is a case in point, she’s good people.”  He’d met Kelsey during one of his visits to the house and took to her immediately.  “But men?  You have a bad track record.  Think of Jason-”

“I’d rather never think of Jason, Dad.”  The fling, if you could call it that, that had made me blush when JD asked for more information about my past indiscretions.   “Besides, that didn’t go that-”

“He had my name forged on the marriage license, Ani.”  I shut my eyes at the memory of Jason Sallinger.  A lab tech that worked under my dad, but was nearer his age than mine.  Attractive, and predatory, I hadn’t known at sixteen men like him existed.  At least not in my world.  “If I hadn’t realized what was happening, I can’t even think of what would have happened.”  We’d learned, as the police investigated Jason, that I wasn’t his first attempt at the con.  And at least one of his past paramours was missing and had never been heard of after they eloped.  

“You know that I’m more careful, Dad.”  Now, I thought, I didn’t let anyone really know how deep my pockets were. How fast the wealth was that I’d earned through my own creativity, and through my inheritance from Mom.  “Roger has no idea how much I’m worth.”

Dad sighed again.  “Your house alone paints a picture, Ani.  Your two vehicles, the trips you take that aren’t promotion related.  And the books?  For fuck’s sake, sweetie, you’re on every talk show every time another one is released.  He knew enough.  It’s why he can’t let go, or at least-”

“He showed up while the system was locked down.”  Dad’s end went completely silent.  “And he showed up a few hours after it went back up.  I told him I planned on shocking him, literally, if he shows up again.”  

“Ani, let me send the man I use to-”  He took a deep breath and I could almost see him preparing to admit something he knew I’d find irritating.  “Help keep you safe.  He can check to be sure that Roger doesn’t have his own shit in place to watch you.”

I didn’t consider that Roger would do anything like that, but in a flash I realized that he might.  Maybe not before I caught him, but now?  Now he seemed desperate to keep me.  I reluctantly agreed to his offer.  Adding that I’d want this man to remove anything he found, which Dad said was the entire point, of course.

He promised to come with the man, hopefully later in the day, and I told him I’d make us an early dinner.

“Get the Scrabble board out,” he demanded, and I smiled.  “It’s been too long since I trounced you at wordplay.”

“Good luck, old man,” I challenged, and hung up grinning from the return to normalcy.

Dad was true to his word, and with Kelsey beside me, we watched the two men, the stranger holding a device of some sort in his hand go inch by inch around the exterior of my house.  Then, even though I protested that there wasn’t any way that Roger had planted anything in my house, they did a repeat performance to the interior.  I was shocked when they found a few tiny gadgets inside to add to the small group they’d uncovered outside. 

“This,” Dad told me as he held up one of them, “is MY GPS tracker from your car.”  Nodding to show my understanding, he went on.  “It’s going back on, Ani, because there were two others in the same car.”  Wait, TWO?  “One is no doubt Rogers, but the other one?  Either he’s idiotic enough to double up, or someone else put it there.”  

“I’d think it was him,” the other man offered.  “There were two of everything we found.  Close enough to make me think that he was using two simply to make sure he had a backup in case one failed.”  He shook his head at the stupidity.  “He’s not a rocket scientist, is he?”  

“He teaches poetry,” Kelsey offered, bringing Dad and his friend lemonade.  “So, no, not a rocket scientist, and he also has the most pedantic ideas about Longfellow.”  I shook my own head at her irritation with Roger’s opinions on poetry.  

The other devices were for sound, which means that he had probably heard JD and I from the first visit he made to my house and most definitely the sounds of our lovemaking.  Good, I thought, suck on that.  I invited the security man, whose name he reminded me was Kelvin to dinner, but he declined.  

“My wife made reservations for tonight.”  I smiled and walked him to the door.  “I put your dad’s tracker back on your car.  Both of them are being tracked, and I’d advise you to keep them on.  This ex of yours, he doesn’t sound all that stable, but even if he is it’s safer.”  I agreed and thanked him for his time.  “Don’t mention it.  Just stay safe.”

“I’ll try,” I started to shut the door, but he stopped me.

“JD is a good guy,” my eyes widened and he grinned at me.  “Your dad filled me in.  I know him, and he’s a good one.  If you’re with him, you’re safe.”  Then he said goodbye and I finally closed the door.  

Dad had invited Kelsey to dinner, like she needed an invite, and the three of us ate and then gathered around the Scrabble board I’d set up on the opposite end of the dining room table.  I was laughing as the two of them argued about the validity of a word when Pandi informed us that we had a guest.  Dad looked at me with shrewdness as I told it to let him in, and then as I sat at a table with my dad and Kelsey, JD walked in to meet my father for the first time. 

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Three | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen | Due to language

Word count: 2,930

Chapter 3/24

Warnings: Very brief language

AN: Y’all are getting this chapter a night early because I have had a supremely shitty week and could use some cheering up. So far, this has been the chapter I was most nervous to write because it’s from Bucky’s POV. I have felt so incredibly unworthy of trying to delve into this character because so many fantastic writers I know and love write him flawlessly. It’s been so intriguing for me to explore what Bucky would be like post-war and I think I’m liking where this is going. This chapter has actually turned into one of my favorites and I’m proud of how it came out. Sidenote: Did y’all REALLY think I was going to write something completely void of Steve Rogers???? If you did, you don’t know me that well 😉

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Mondays usually were accompanied by drowsiness and wistful thoughts of a weekend passed.

Not for Bucky.

For Bucky, Monday meant he could return to a life where he blends in, where he gets to be the one who observes everyone else. Washing windows is not what he wants for the rest of his life, but for now it felt good to be doing something useful, to have tangible results in front of him everyday. Monday morning means having someplace to be, a set schedule for his day, someone counting on him, and quiet stretches of time alone and away from the worried eyes of his family members.

The pitying glances over breakfast were becoming a bit much for him. Bucky loved his family to death, wouldn’t trade them for the world. But for all their ability to give him space to figure his life out, they sure were clueless that he was keenly aware of the way they looked at him, the way they spoke to him. He doesn’t really blame them, he wouldn’t know how to handle himself either. Most days he pastes on a smile, tells them not to worry, he’d be back on his feet soon. Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d actually believe it too.

Unfortunately Monday also meant dealing with the rest of the boneheaded window washing crew. He was constantly reminding himself to go easy on them, they were just kids. But nothing made him more aware of his age and veteran status than being around them. Compared to their carefree countenances, he realized how much he’d been through, how much he’d seen, how much he’d survived. He should be grateful they were able to be total idiots instead of being shipped off to war. But most days he was tempted to share the number of his confirmed kills so they would leave him alone.

Bucky scales down the building, wind tousling his hair as he looks up to count how many floors he’s finished.

That makes this. . . six.

He peers through the window, pretending to be checking the glass. Scanning the office, he doesn’t see you - his disappointment surprising him.

In the week in which he’d been working on the east side of the building he’d seen you every single day. The way you carried yourself was what first caught his eye - you were confident, poised, not demanding attention but not morphing into a wallflower. You cared about your work, always looking intense and focused. And you saw him. Not in the way people usually saw him - as a figure in the window, someone to be ignored and walked past. In the smallest of ways you were kind to him. You waved every single day, always had time to spare him a smile. There was something about you that was calming. Granted, your interactions were minimal and nonverbal. But you didn’t make him nervous. Which was a rare occurrence these days.

Something in him just wasn’t working lately. Every girl he took dancing, he stepped on her toes. Try to share a meal, he couldn’t find anything to chat about. Dating was easier before he left. Or maybe everything had gotten harder since he’d returned home.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it. Bucky knew he’d changed, he just hadn’t realized how much. Steve had echoed the sentiment a few nights ago.

Reluctantly, Bucky had allowed his idiot friend and Peggy to drag him to a bar after dinner - how the times had changed. It wasn’t one of their old haunts from before the war. Neither Bucky nor Steve could handle the cacophony of noise a club filled with energetic people brought. They bumped into several groups of those kinds of people, including a raucous group of slightly inebriated young women. Suddenly they felt old, weary, uneasy in a place where they used to belong. Or at least where Bucky used to belong, Steve always argued.

This place was quiet, refined even. Conversations were at a dull murmur while a band played casually. No one was here to drunkenly drown their sorrows or celebrate being alive wildly. Almost like everyone here knew the patrons just needed a rest.

“You realize you two don’t have to invite me on all your date nights, right?” Bucky huffed as the three settled at a table near the back.

Peggy smiled coyly.  “Don’t worry, James. You aren’t welcome for the entire night.” Steve choked on his drink, coughing violently while his ears burned pink. Bucky’s response had been something along the lines of “gross”.

After the usual chit-chat, Steve had waited for Peggy to excuse herself to refresh their drinks before broaching the subject.

“Doing okay, pal?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky responded, rolling the last sip of his whiskey in its glass.

“You sure?”

Bucky recognized that voice. Eyes flicking back to Steve’s guilty face, his suspicions were confirmed. “Alright, who’s been in your ear this time? Ma? Becca?”

“I’ve got my own eyes and ears.” Steve waited a beat before adding, “But your ma did mention-” Bucky groaned, not hearing the rest of the sentence. “Don’t be like that. They just care about you, Buck.”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he repeated quietly, “I know.”

“You’ve been dragging a lot. Gotta admit you haven’t been yourself.”

Bucky leaned back, leveling Steve with a hard look. “To tell you the truth, Steve? I don’t know who I am. Nothing that mattered to me before means anything anymore. Once I got to Europe. . . I stopped making plans. Didn’t seem to be much use in dreaming about things that I’d never come home to. But then you, being the punk you are, saved my ass countless times - even caught me falling off a damn train - and somehow I’m back in New York. I didn’t plan on having a 29th birthday or hugging my family again.” He idly scratched at an itchy patch of his beard. “Yet here we are.”

“We’re all lucky to be alive, Buck.”

“But for what?” Silence hung thick in the air at Bucky’s question.

“You know. . .” Steve started, then paused. “I do know where you’re coming from.”

“Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. You’re literally a god-damn hero. There are comic books written about you, movies carrying your name, and you have job security for the rest of your life. You had dinner at the White House on your birthday and bagged a kickass partner in crime. If that’s not purpose, what is?”

Steve had the nerve to look embarrassed. “It may be purposeful. . . but it’s not normal. You know better than anyone else that all I wanted was to do my part in the fight. To say I got more than I bargained for is an understatement.” Bucky could only respond with a snort. “But none of us thought I’d survive the scarlet fever, the arrhythmia, or the anaemia. I was lucky to make it as long as I did. The chances of me surviving the serum injection were laughably low.”

Memories of many days spent at Steve’s bedside float over the table, somehow sobering Bucky even more. “But each year was a surprise. My ma would’ve called it a blessing. I never knew what to do with myself, especially when the war started and I was the only man not being shipped off. . . I was desperate to feel normal. What I got was a hard swing in the other direction.” Steve’s eyes shifted to Peggy at the bar, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I wouldn’t hate it if I had ended up with a stable job, a calm life, and a happy home.

“So I get it. Purpose, normalcy. . . we’re all struggling to find what we lost the last few of years.” Steve clasped Bucky’s shoulder, “But Ma taught me that we always have to stand back up. I don’t care if I have to drag you to your feet, Buck, we’ll get you back up. Whatever we have to do to make it happen.” Bucky knew the stubborn fool in front of him wasn’t going to let him wallow much longer. The tables had turned harshly.

Peggy returned to her seat with three drinks in hand, instantly catching on to the shift in mood that had happened during her absence. Misty-eyed, Steve and Bucky cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

“And while the pair of you are gallivanting around saving the world, I’m washing windows and living with my family, who don’t know what to do with me.” Bucky had meant it as a joke, but it came out much more bitter than intended.

“Still haven’t heard back from the VA?” Bucky just shook his head at Steve’s question, tossing his drink back in one gulp. “You know you’ll always have a job waiting for you at the SSR as long as me and Peggy are there.”

“Eh, that’s not the kind of normal I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asks softly, even gently, for her.

“Guess that’s the million dollar question, huh? A coupla years ago, all I cared about was having a good time and getting through school. Dancing with pretty dames. Maybe get hitched, have some kids.”

“And now?” Peggy prompts in a way that allowed no room for a vague answer.

“I wish I could tell ya, Peg. I really do.”

Peggy’s voice echoed in his mind again.

And now?

Bucky shakes that night from his mind, still not spying you anywhere in the office. Deciding you were either taking a late lunch or were sick, he gets on with his job. Halfway through cleaning the window he notices someone sit at your desk, which was strange. You’ve kept your workplace meticulously tidy since the first day he saw you - surely you wouldn’t appreciate this. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the stranger’s movements as he continues to work. Part of him wants to tell the lady to buzz off for you, another part of him can’t wait to watch you take down the person scrambling up your desk, the other part of him. . . . is definitely attracted to the Desk Invader.

He only catches glimpses of her during his task and her chair is angled away from him to tend to a filing cabinet adjacent to her desk, so he can’t see her face. But Bucky could tell she was graceful. Ruby red nails carded through the mounds of files, curled hair shined in its rolled-back fashion. Her dress was a bold blue - and fit in all the right places if he let his mind wander.

Right when he was getting desperate for a look at her, she swivels her chair back to the desk - revealing half of her face. Fine powder, bright red lipstick, nothing he hasn’t seen his sister don at the beginning of her day.

She’s made up like every other girl he’s seen pass through the office. Well, not every girl. You seemed to prefer a utilitarian approach to your appearance, which he didn’t ha--

And then the stranger turns fully towards the window, smiles, and waves at him.

It was you.

Is that actually her?

Bucky leans back in his rigging and takes you in fully. Yeah, looks like the utilitarian approach was out. In was a dame on-trend and truly pulling it off. Before you were beautiful, charming. Now? With the makeup only serving to highlight your features? You were stunning. Shaking his head, he can feel the heat in his cheeks with the realization that he’s been ogling you while you watch. Your smile falters, shoulders drop ever-so-slightly. Not very gentlemanly of you, Barnes.

Bucky touches his own face and hair, raising a brow. Making it obvious that he was looking you up and down, he quirks his head to the side in question.

You roll your eyes so far into your head, a chuckle escapes from him. After a surreptitious glance over your shoulder at the rest of the bullpen, you point towards the office he assumes belongs to your supervisor. He nods. Quickly, but clearly, you raise a certain finger in the direction of the office door.

A laugh emanates from deep in his chest, Bucky’s shoulders heaving. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed hard enough that his eyes are forced shut. When he opens them again, a similar smile is echoed on your face, definitely pleased with his reaction. You’re sassy. He likes that.

With a remnant of a easygoing-Bucky he’d almost forgotten about, he sticks out his lower lip appreciatively while nodding towards you. Accompanied by a wide grin, he knows you’ve gotten his point. You look good.

You duck your head, but he catches the smile you aim toward your lap. A little something stirs in his chest.

And now?

Then and there, he decides he’s going to allow himself to be impulsive.

Just this once.

Bucky knows for certain he has never completed his job so quickly -and probably never as sloppily. He checks his watch as he smooths down his hair. Just as planned, he’s finished earlier than usual - much to the confusion of the rest of the window washers. After stashing his supplies in the outdoor service closet designated for his team he rounds the building, the front entrance being his destination. The remainder of the team was still cleaning several floors up.

From above Bucky hears his boss shout, “Where you going, Barnes?”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrison,” he shouts back. “I finished. Got something to take care of.”

“You better be here early tomorrow!”

Tucking the tail of his shirt into his slacks, he favors the stairs for the elevator as he climbs to the sixth floor and is met with a giant bullpen of desks and offices.

That’s when it registers exactly how many women work in this office - funny how he hadn’t noticed before you walked in. He’s become accustomed to having little attention paid to him due to the nature of his job but now at least a dozen sets of cat-eye-lined eyes are set on his every movement.

Oh boy.

Trying to be as nondescript as possible he begins to head to your desk when the abrupt clearing of a throat stops him. Sitting at a huge desk immediately in front of the elevator is the most intimidating woman he’s ever seen. Tall and rail-thin, her features seem to be pulled tight with the fastidious bun resting at the nape of her neck. A gold sign affixed to the front of the desk reads: M. Flannery, Office Manager.

“May I help you. . . sir?” Scrutinizing him behind thick-framed glasses, she somehow dons an expression that makes her more severe.

“Umm. . . I’m just looking for someone. . . ma’am.”

“May I inquire who it is you have business with?”

He waves a hand, warding her away from the chock-full appointment book she was reaching for. “No, I don’t have an appointment or anythin’ like that.”

“Then what exactly is the reason you are here?”

“There’s a typist I was hoping to speak with.”

“What is her name?”

Shit.

“Umm, I- we’ve only exchanged pleasantries. I was hoping to catch her name today.”

Mrs. Flannery hums disapprovingly.

“I know where her desk is,” he points to the furthest corner of the office, “she had on a blue dress today. Can I pop over there and say hello?”

“I am afraid unauthorized persons are not allowed past the front desk.” An argument bubbles in him, but he swallows it down after her stern gaze tells him that it was a lost battle.

“. . . Could you ask her to meet me out here, then?”

“The woman you are looking for has already left for the day.”

“Oh.” All his nervous energy deflates and the letdown weighs heavy in his gut. He turns to leave when Mrs. Flannery speaks again.

“You may leave a note with me and I will deliver it to her when she arrives in the morning.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you, ma’am.” He looks down at his empty hands, then scratches the back of his neck. “Got a pad and pen I could use?” She sighs heavily, as if his request is the most inconvenient part of her day. Once she shoves the utensils in his direction, he stares at the paper. In the heat of his impulsivity he hoped he’d see you and know exactly what to say. Now the blank page mocks him. Mrs. Flannery’s pointer finger taps on the desk, urging him to hurry up.

Bucky glances up at the office manager again. “I’m guessing I can’t convince you to give me her name, huh?”

“I am not in the habit of giving out young women’s personal information to every dandy that walks in. I will make sure it gets to the girl in the blue dress.”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, he scribbles the only thing he could think of and folds the paper twice. Holding out the note Bucky asks, “For her eyes only, ma’am?”

Mrs. Flannery’s eyes narrow as she takes the note from him. “I am offended at the implication that I would violate the privacy of a person’s correspondence.” With an upturned nose she swivels away from Bucky, promptly dismissing him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With a spring in his step he returns to the stairwell, whistling a happy tune; purposefully ignoring the room of women still watching his every move.

Chapter Four

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