#usually I don’t see my birthday be shared by anyone so I was surprised to see I shared it with Dom lol

[roseofcards90]

YOU SHARE A BDAY WITH DOM IM SO JEALOUS

I share a birthday with a really boring villager like I would’ve preferred straight up ugly over boring because there is absolutely nothing to say about this guy ffpffpfpfpfpf

DJFJFJFJ damn anon 😭 fair tho that goes for a lot of villagers tbh, if only all of them could be interesting and stand out 😔

[wonwoonlight]

;) / choi seungcheol

➝ Seungcheol x Reader

➝ idol!au // est relationship // nothing but fluff // reader is an idol too // takes place in this universe

➝ word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy birthday, cheol! just smth short that i wrote for his bday <3 enjoy💕 not proofread lmao

“Hi.” Seungcheol waves at the camera, waiting for more people to tune in. It’s a random Thursday when he suddenly feels like doing a live, and after confirming with the company that he’ll just be doing a short one, they simply tell him to be careful. He’s long enough in his career to be doing lives on his own in his place, and with him being a leader and all, if there’s any member that they can be sure wouldn’t make a mistake during a live unsupervised, it’d be him.

Or if he makes any, well, it wouldn’t be anything like Mingyu did last month. After all, Seungcheol is currently in a publicly revealed relationship with another idol and that automatically means he’s more careful than anyone.

“I’m at home.” He leans forward to see the comments better, resting his chin on his palm. “Just suddenly felt like turning on the live because I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Huh? ‘Why is the live title different?’ What do you–ah.” He taps on his phone seeing that he accidentally titled his live ‘;)’ instead of the usual smiley face. “I must’ve made a typo.”

He continues to communicate like that, smiling to himself at the sweet questions they ask about you even though he doesn’t answer them as much as he wants to. Yeah, it’s been a year since he went public with his relationship, but the both of you have been keeping it low regardless. He would’ve shown you off everywhere if he could, but you’re more private than he is and he agrees to follow your lead because he’s fine with whatever you’re comfortable with.

At least most of the fans react positively to the news, which is thankfully still the case seeing as how he only sees so little hate comments when it comes to you. He wishes there isn’t any, but with this industry… he can only be thankful that only a very small part of people who claim to be his fans are against his relationship.

He’s just happy he has you by his side.

“It’s my day off today. I don’t have any schedules after this because I did my work out in the morning. Have you guys had dinner? I’m thinking of–” He pauses in the middle of his sentence at the sound of his door opening, eyes turning frantic at the sight of you who don’t seem to realize that he’s currently live.

“Hi! I came early becau–” You press your lips together when you finally notice the phone propped up in front of him, and if that’s not enough, his panicked eyes tell you enough that he’s doing a live.

You’ve promised to drop by later tonight, but because your lesson ends early, you decide to just drive to his place because you want to see him already. Giddy at the prospect of surprising him, you forgot to consider that this is very possible to happen, something that you actually have discussed with Seungcheol before. 

Seungcheol glances at the comment section, heart light with relief at how fans are freaking out: asking if it’s you and they’re all asking him if you can join the live even for a bit. 

“I’m doing a live.” He says for the sake of it, his eyes sorry despite the giddiness in his heart for some reason. You know what he’s asking you though–do you want to join me? Do you want to wait outside? Should I pretend that you’re someone else?

You also know that Seungcheol has been wanting to just… be with you in public. It’s not something he says out loud, but you know him and you know it’s something that he’s always desired. He just wants to love out loud, wants to share what–who–makes him happy with his fans.

Should I say hi? You mouth at him, in which your answer comes in the form of his frantic face melting into a big, giddy smile in a matter of seconds.

“Hi.” You shyly wave at the camera as Seungcheol moves to give you space. “Sorry I disturbed your live. I didn’t know Seungcheol was doing one.”

“They’ve been asking about you anyway.” Seungcheol jokes, nudging you a little. “It’s like they come here to see you.”

You scrunch your nose in embarrassment, still not sure how to act with your boyfriend in front of the camera. You’re used to having him to yourself–not like this, but you can’t help but admit that it does make you giddy to be able to do this with him.

“There’s no way. Anyway, I can just wait outside so don’t feel pressured to end this quickly, okay?”

Noooo, stay with us!!

Don’t go!!! We’re happy to have you here🥺

Do you really have to go?

“See? They all want you here.” Seungcheol grins, getting more and more comfortable the more he sees positive comments about you. He laughs when he catches a funny one, points it at you and reads it to everyone. “Look at this ‘You’re so pretty. Do you need a girlfriend? Dump Seungcheol and come to me?’. I can’t believe you guys are already trying to steal her from me.”

You laugh incredulously, cheeks already hurt from smiling too much.

“Maybe if you make a better ramyeon than him.” You play along. “Seungcheol makes a very good ramyeon, you know?”

“Ah, good to know my cooking ability is a dealbreaker for you.” He nods in satisfaction before proceeding to tell his fans about a recipe he recently tried to make. “Invite her on Coups Coups? Heh, she doesn’t know how to cook.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true!”

“Yeah, but still…” You pout, and Seungcheol has to physically restrain himself from kissing the pout off your lips.

“She knows how to bake, though.” He turns back to the camera. “Perhaps we can do a baking episode someday. We’ll see.”

You stay there for another three minutes before excusing yourself, telling him once again that you’re fine waiting so he doesn’t need to end the live quickly for your sake. Waving at the camera and thanking the fans for being kind, you plop down on the sofa in the living room and allow yourself to be giddy for a few moments before texting your manager to let him know about what has just transpired.

It’s almost fifty minutes later that Seungcheol steps out of his room, his grin widens when he sees you playing with your phone. His heart also blooms in size, as much as he’s seen fans supporting you two on the internet, it’s entirely different to be with you on camera and see firsthand how his fans interact with you. He’s glad the experience seems to be pleasant for the both of you, and suddenly wonders if it can be a thing now that this has started.

“Oh, you’re done?” You look up before putting your phone to the table, immediately melt into his side when Seungcheol sits beside you. He doesn’t answer you though, simply cups your cheeks and dives into your lips like he’s been wanting to do since earlier. You smile into the kiss, fingers grasping his shoulder to balance yourself. You feel him smile also, and it’s then that you pull away and share a giggle with each other. “Don’t you look happy.”

“Mmhm.  I was finally able to show you off and my fans love you, this day can’t get any better.” He admits before kissing you on the forehead and pulls away.

“Finally, huh?” You scrunch your nose in embarrassment, though he can tell that you share the sentiment. “Have you talked to your manager about it?”

“Yeah. It’s fine, we didn’t do anything wrong and presumably didn’t say anything wrong. They’re monitoring it immediately, though, just in case.”

“Unlike Mingyu?”

You laugh at his unimpressed expression, only now finding the whole situation funny because Seungcheol, being the leader and all, was quite stressed about it at first.

“Did your manager say anything?”

“No. They… my management has actually been saying that it’s really up to me if I want to appear in public with you.” Seungcheol finds his heart fluttering at how shy you seem to be, the usual telltale of your nervousness showing itself as you play with your fingers.

“Yeah?” He wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “And what did you say?”

“I say I’ll talk about it with you.” You look at him, abashed. “Do you… want to? You know we’ve been getting invitations to appear on shows together, right?”

“I want whatever you want, baby.” He buries his nose into your hair, hopes that his voice doesn’t sound too hopeful as not to pressure you. He’d love to take you with him everywhere, but he knows you still find it bothersome and you like to be careful, which he respects. He understands where you’re coming from, and while he agrees that it’s important to be careful, having dated you for years even prior to the public revelation, he also thinks it would be fun to be able to appear in public with you. “You know I don’t mind anything as long as I’m with you.”

You’re silent for a bit, thinking about how you’ve actually also been wanting to do shows with him. It’s surely going to be different from the short live earlier, but the positive interactions with his fans make you somewhat hopeful and you admit that it’s making you crave for more interactions in the future.

“Perhaps we can start with our self-produced contents first?” You suggest and Seungcheol squeezes your shoulder a little too tight out of excitement. “Baking, you said earlier? And we’ll see after.”

“You’re serious?”

Shrugging, your smile extends into a grin at how happy Seungcheol seems to be. If this is how he looks at the idea of it, you can’t help but imagine how happy he’d be once the idea actually comes to life. “I don’t see why not.”

You yelp when he suddenly pulls you into his lap, hugging you so tight that you can’t help but laugh. You’re pretty sure the loud heartbeat you’re hearing is his, though you won’t be surprised too if it turns out to be yours either way.

“You know, one of the fans asked if I can just name the live with the emoji I used today if you’re ever going to come again in the future.”

“Oh? You used a different smiley face today?”

“By mistake. What do you say? Are you up to more lives with me in the future?”

You pretend to think about it, consider telling him no as a joke but decided against it when you see just how much his eyes are shining in expectation, probably already thinking of a hundred schedules that he can do with you by his side.

“I want whatever you want.” You repeat his words, heart fluttering about what the future might have in store for you and him. And when you see him smile, one of the happiest you’ve ever seen on his face, you know that things are going to be okay as long as you get to keep that smile on his face.

[wosoimagines]

Sweet Sixteen

part 2 of rivals one-shots

Jo's sixteenth birthday happens during camp.

1,437 words

set in between chapter 3 and 4 of rivals.

“Dude! It’s your birthday?” 

I raised my eyes from where I was focused on my breakfast to meet Pinoe’s eyes. Everyone had turned to look at her as I froze. It didn’t take long for everyone’s eyes to turn to me. I shrunk in my seat a bit at the number of eyes that were focused on me now. 

“It’s your birthday?” 

My eyes met Becky at the question that was repeated softer. I sucked in a breath but slowly nodded. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“You didn’t tell us it was your birthday,” Becky said. I shrugged at that. Honestly, I wasn’t used to it being celebrated. “We would have got you something.” 

“You don’t have to,” I said with a shake of my head. 

“You don’t want anything for your birthday?” 

Alyssa was the one who spoke up this time. I shrugged at that. There wasn’t much that I really needed. 

“I’m getting a new pair of shoes when I get home. Well, new cleats anyways.” 

I didn’t miss the looks being shared between my teammates. 

“What do you want?” Pinoe asked. 

I was at a loss with that. I didn’t really know what they wanted me to say. I was used to just getting new soccer gear from my family. At least I got to pick out exactly what they got me. 

“How should I know? I usually get new socks and cleats and shin guards and a new ball.” 

The room went silent again. 

“Your family just gets you soccer stuff?” 

I nodded my head at Christie’s question. I tilted my head as the captain clenched her jaw, and I could see the anger that sometimes flickered in her eyes on the field suddenly set in her eyes now. 

“It’s a free day today,” Becky said, drawing my attention back to her. “You can make a list of things you’d like, and we can go shopping for birthday presents.” 

“No,” I shook my head, “That’s too much.” 

“Nah, it’s easy,” Sydney said as she suddenly sat next to me with a pen and piece of paper. “You just write down what you like to do, and we’ll go get you presents that relate to that.” 

I huffed at that. They didn’t get it. 

“Soccer is what I like to do.” 

The whole room froze. 

“If I’m not in school, then it’s soccer.” 

“What do you do besides that?” 

“I don’t. I go to school and I practice and we watch football at home. We don’t do much more than that. We go to the lake during the summer where we swim and we ski. But I don’t do anything else. I can’t do much anything else besides soccer because soccer is how I’m going to make money. And I need to be the best at soccer so that’s what I do outside of school.” 

I refused to meet anyone’s eyes at the admission. I knew it wasn’t entirely normal, but I loved soccer, so I was okay with it. 

“Okay, we’re taking you out, and if you find anything that interests you, we’re buying it for you,” Alyssa spoke up across from me. “And it won’t have anything to do with soccer.” 

I sighed but nodded. It was obvious in the way Alyssa stared me down that there was no room for discussion about it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I gave the camera a small wave as I walked into the mess hall. I knew that the team had talked Jill into letting them get a cake for me. I was a bit surprised though by the amount of boxes that were wrapped. 

Christie had me wearing the new pair of sneakers she had gotten me earlier today after I had accidentally told her that the only new shoes I ever got were my soccer cleats. She had seemed upset by the fact that my parents had only ever given me hand-me-downs for shoes. Her present was the only gift that I knew what it was. Everyone else had ended up keeping it a surprise from me. 

“Think fast, Pip.” 

I easily caught the box that Hope threw at me. She looked surprised but I had a lot of practice with everything that would be thrown at home. I shook the box before raising an eyebrow at how whatever was instead was easily rattled. I took the newspaper off before pulling the lid off. 

“It’s a rock.” 

“It’s an emerald,” Hope corrected. I slowly picked it up. “Figured you could use it. The guy says it brings love into your life.” 

I immediately dropped the emerald back into the box before shoving it in Becky’s hands. 

“No thanks,” I said as I shook my head. “Don’t need love to try to find me right before the World Cup.” 

A couple of our teammates laughed at that.  

“He also said it improves eyesight.” 

“I have perfect vision.” 

Becky ushered me to sit down before Hope and I could get into a petty argument. I did appreciate the thought of her gift though. 

“Here,” Becky said as she put another gift in front of me. “I hope you like it.” 

I sent Becky a small smile. I was sure that I would. After all, I was just happy to have presents that didn’t relate to soccer. I didn’t realize just how annoying it was to only get gifts relating to soccer. 

“You got me a camera?” 

I tilted my head at the sight of the Nikon camera that now sat in my hands. 

“It’s an F2. I figured you might like it since you seem to always try to steal the cameras at practice. But you’ll have to learn how to shoot on film.” 

I grinned at that.  

“Thanks. I love it.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kelley spoke up. “We get it. Becky’s your team mom. You’ll love any gift from her.” 

I rolled my eyes at the defender. 

“Here,” Tobin said as a bigger box was pushed toward me. “Might as well keep it on the artistic side.” 

I raised an eyebrow at that. I did wonder if anyone got together to get me something. Maybe Tobin and Becky did? 

“Seen you doodling during film sessions,” Christen explained when I started pulling out sketchbooks and pencils and paints. “Wasn’t sure what to get so I asked Tobin for help, and we just decided to get it all for you together.” 

I hadn’t been able to draw since I was a kid. Not really. At least not if it wasn’t at school. We just couldn’t afford the amount of paper I would go through drawing and how much Mom needed to print so she could edit the chapters of her book. She always said she was old school with her editing and did it much better if she edited a paper copy. 

Present after present was pushed in front of me. Or at least an explanation of what a teammate had ordered for me was given. Like Alyssa ordering me some books she thought I would enjoy. Ali definitely took me by surprise with the amount of clothes she had bought me, but only gave me a shrug that I could start to find my own style instead of having to wear hand-me-downs from my siblings.  

Well, I thought Ali’s would be the biggest surprise, until it was Pinoe’s turn. She had waited to be last. But there were still at least twelve boxes on the table. 

The first was a pair of shoes. So was the second box. And the third. 

“Did you just get me shoes?” 

I knew that I had tried on quite a few, but the ones that Christie had got me were more than enough. 

“You’ve never had your own first pair before now. Now you have options.” 

Twelve pairs of shoes. I couldn’t believe Pinoe. 

“And-” 

“There’s more?” 

There was no way Pinoe got me twelve pairs of shoes and then something else on top of it. 

“It’s like Ali said,” Pinoe started with a shrug, “You can find your own style. I ordered you some clothes to be delivered to your house.” 

I did get into a small argument with Pinoe on whether or not what she got me was too much. It was eventually broken up when the cake was put in front of me, and I was sure that the video of my face immediately turning red as the team sang to me would be posted online. 

“Be honest,” Alyssa nudged me as she walked Becky and I back to our room, “How was your sixteenth birthday?” 

“Best one yet.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MISSED — CYNO.

contents. gn! reader, birthday kissies 4 the bday boy, established relationship, morning cyno = soft cyno, slight hints at his past / allusions to being an akademiya test subject, more kissies 4 the bday babie <3

notes. happy birthday to the man i quite literally started genshin for. i love you king. you are hilarious don’t let anyone tell u ur not >:(

cyno wakes up to a trail of kisses along his cheek, then his nose, then—to his disappointment—his forehead. his lips twitch into a frown and his eyes are still closed as he murmurs, “you missed a spot.”

“oh, i didn’t realize you were awake,” you say in mock surprise, “how lovely of you to join me.”

“do you plan on getting the spot you missed?” he finally cracks his eyes open, meeting yours as he stares at you expectantly. and, well—it’s his birthday after all, so you giggle and lean in, pecking his lips a few times before kissing him slowly.

“happy birthday,” you hum, brushing hair from his face.

not many people get to see the general mahamatra without his head piece, much less without his bangs covering his face. but you? you get to wake up to this—sleepy eyes and messy hair, sun kissing the tanned skin and leaving a honeyed afterglow, that rare relaxed expression on his usually serious face.

you grin, cupping his cheeks and squeezing them slightly as you murmur, “has anyone ever told you how adorable you are?”

“no,” he says in amusement, “you’d be the first. they’re usually a bit intimidated.”

“i don’t see it,” you tease, “enlighten me great general mahamatra—why would anyone be intimidated by you?”

“perhaps because they don’t understand my jokes,” he sighs, “which is a shame. they’re pretty good.”

“i don’t know about that one,” you giggle softly. he raises a brow, and if you didn’t know any better, you might say cyno is pouting—just a little, though.

“you laugh at them,” he points out.

“well, that’s because you’re my boyfriend,” you grin, earning a crinkle in his brows, “it’s my duty to laugh at them.”

“a pity laugh is hardly your duty,” he huffs, hands squeezing your hips as your chin rests on his chest. you hum, pressing another trail of kisses along his collarbone, along the faint scars that litter his skin. “you missed a spot again.”

you giggle, thumb stroking over a thin, jagged mark on his chest. cyno is no stranger to old wounds, to the faint marks that paint over the softest parts of him. the most vulnerable.

he tells you about them, sometimes—when it’s dark and lonely at night, when it’s easy for nightmares to crawl into the sutures of his skin. but then he’s reminded that there’s still a body beside him when your hand reaches for his. so he tells you, quietly with his lips against your forehead as you listen, sharing the stories behind every lingering mark—some from the hard battles for justice, and some from darker moments in his past, ones that remind you that knowledge isn’t always wisdom.

not when it costs so much, not when it bleeds along the skin of the youth.

“i guess you do make a good joke here and there,” you admit, “or maybe i just have a poor sense of humor.”

“it can’t be poor if you laugh at my humor,” he insists, sighing softly when your lips meet his neck, trailing up until you find his jaw.

“it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you murmur against his skin, pecking the corner of his mouth, “at least you make up for not being funny.”

“i am funny,” he argues, glaring at you when your lips barely conceal the grin they fight back, “i’ll prove it. what’s the difference between a poorly dressed man on a tricycle and a well-dressed man on a bicycle?”

“don’t,” you groan, “please don’t—”

“attire.” you close your eyes and sigh—he takes it as a chance to explain. “get it? attire like your clothes? and a tire, because tricycles have an extra tire? it’s like a play on—”

“i got it,” you snort, “you don’t have to explain.”

“see? you laughed?” he says proudly, earning a huff from you as you slap his chest lightheartedly.

“that wasn’t a laugh at your joke,” you roll your eyes, “i was laughing at how bad it was.”

he doesn’t seem to believe you—and you don’t think you mind. maybe you do think he’s a bit funny here and there, but you can’t let him know, not when it enables him even more. so instead, you go back to leaving tender kisses along his jaw, celebrating every year he’s blessed you with as you press your lips against him, seeping warmth into every crevice and every corner you can find along his skin.

“we should get up,” he mumbles—but his body betrays his words when his eyes close and he tilts his head to give your better access. “i’ll be late.”

“no,” you whine, “it’s your birthday, can’t you go in late on your birthday?”

“that’s not how that works,” he chuckles, “you can’t have your cake and eat it too—”

“okay, never mind,” you roll off of him, “you can go.”

but he catches you with an arm curled around you, pulling you back into his chest as he smiles brightly at you. it’s soft, the corners of his lips, the way his eyes stare into yours, the way his hands grasp you. everything about him is soft—from the way he holds you to the way he loves. in a short bit, he’ll leave your home as the general mahamatra, hard and strict and ever so serious—but he comes back home to you as cyno, gentle and kind and just a little bit lame with those corny jokes of his.

and you love him—through the scattered scars and harsh battles, through the gentle smiles and soft touches, through the cheesy jokes and lengthy explanations.

maybe you can have your cake and eat it too. maybe anything’s possible with cyno.

“you still missed a spot,” he insists. and it’s his birthday, so you decide to lean down and press your lips to his, slow and happy and desperately in love.

“did i get it?”

“i don’t know,” he pretends to think, “try again.”

so you do, again, and again, and again.

hi guys i spent all of the last few days reading fics about cyno being a test subject at the akademiya to study hermanubis until cyrus shuts it down and adopts him and this is my new truth. i love him so dearly and i love cyrus for taking in that lil boy i’m going to sob and scream and die

[seichira]

[ 12:35 ] — 20th midnight of october.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ your boyfriend comes home extremely late, after you specifically (and nicely) asked him earlier this morning not to be.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ some fluffy short scenario for rindou’s birthday!

with freezing hands caused by the intense cold winds outside, rindou haitani turns the doorknob to your shared apartment to finally get some heat in his system and cuddle up to his beautiful partner after a long day of tedious work.

the door swings open, and before he even gets to call your name like he usually does out of instinct, a huge pillow comes dashing towards him and although it completely takes him by surprise, his reflexes help him dodge the huge pillow.

“shit! what the hell?” he grumbles right before his eyes land on you, standing all alert in the middle of the living room, shooting daggers at him through your fiery eyes. not to mention one remaining pillow in your grasp that seems to be ready to be thrown at your boyfriend who should have been home before exactly thirty-five minutes ago.

he squints his eyes as if he is seeing wrong. “baby? what’s all this? why are you—” he takes a step to get to you but an especially loud yell stops him.

“don’t you dare come near me until at least one of my pillows hit you!” you fake throwing the pillow at him so he dodges again, so you say, “and don’t you even try dodging it or i swear to god, rindou haitani.”

you see, you are talking to a man who has evaded death hundreds of times. this man before you has been threatened, intimidated, and been held at gunpoint before. but he swears he has never been scared of anyone else but you.

before you came, nothing can make him stand there and just take a freaking bullet. he will do whatever it takes to save his life. but right now, as he is in front of the person he has only ever loved and the person who has got him wrapped around a finger, he closes his eyes and stands still while waiting for the hit of the throw pillow to come. and man, it did come.

he wants to laugh, though. because your threats and angry demeanor seem so bold but the throw you just aimed towards him had no bite. still, to satisfy his beloved partner, he acts pained.

“where the hell have you been?! and you have the guts to ask me what the hell, when i have been waiting for you since forever!”

still acting as if the pillow really hurt him, he slowly approaches you with a small smile on his lips that he uses when he wants to appease you.

“i’m sorry, baby. it slipped my mind and got too preoccupied in an investigation. i hurried home as soon as i remembered, though. hm?” he smirks and finally takes you in his arms.

you land a punch on his back but you do not dare break off the hug. “and you think that’s gonna make it all better, haitani? i see i have been too complacent with you, you think you can woo me easily!”

oh, he absolutely can. you talk so much but really, you love him just as much as he loves you. yes, he may give in to all of your whims, but you also cannot resist him to save your life.

“i’m sorry, my love,” he whispers and kisses your temple. “i’m here now, am i not? you really miss me that much? wanted me to come home early?”

you separate from him for a bit to face him eye-to-eye. “it’s because i didn’t want anyone to beat me to it. i wanted to greet you first but i guess ran already did, huh—”

rindou stops you with an, “oh.”

“oh,” you say right after. “you forgot?”

he nods like a clueless child, “totally had no idea it was even coming up, baby. ran is overseas so he hasn’t got the chance to bother me with it.”

all his life, he only ever celebrated his birthdays with ran. and he can’t even call it a celebration. his brother would just greet him casually and dap him up, then he will wake up to a cupcake with a candle on it. he doesn’t think he will ever get used to being loved by anybody else apart from his brother.

but here you are, looking up at him, giggling.

“does this mean i get to greet you first?”

he nods, “the privilege is all yours.”

you tiptoe and his arms are quick to wrap around your waist to help you up to place a kiss on his lips, a deep and loving one that officially demotes ran’s birthday cupcakes into second place. your kiss takes the throne of the best birthday present ever.

“happy birthday, rin. i love you.”

just when rindou haitani thinks he could not love you any more than he already does, you prove him wrong.

[teacasket]

AITA for upstaging my partner’s aunt?

u/Complacent_Chicken915

genre: fluff au: non-idol au warnings: swearing word count: 0.7k   pairing: gn!reader x lee felix

Throwaway for obvious reasons. I (28M) am married to my partner (28). We dated for six years and got married this year. I’ve met their family many times at parties and gatherings. I used to bring brownies to the events but stopped after my partner’s Aunt Camille made rude comments about them. Before anyone asks, my brownies aren’t bad. I used to work part-time at a bakery in college, so I have some professional experience. The cousins love them, my in-laws love them, everyone but Camille thinks they’re great.

Some backstory about Camille: Camille is not her real name. It’s the name she picked for herself when she studied abroad in France thirty years ago in college. Camille thinks that because she spent three months in France, she’s more cultured about dessert than anyone else. She constantly talks shit about any dessert she didn’t make.

I stopped bringing my brownies because I was fed up with her comments. People were disappointed, but Camille’s so annoying that they understood. I just started dropping off the brownies at their houses instead.

During the last big family party three months ago, one of the cousins brought a homemade black forest cake. Of course, Camille belittled her. She made a sixteen year old girl cry! I usually try to stay out Camille's way, but what the fuck???

Last month, Camille invited us to her birthday party. We weren’t planning to go at first. But last night, Camille posted on Instagram the finished cake. To be honest, it looks ugly. For all her talk, she doesn’t know anything about decorating. So I decided to improve on her cake. After all, it’s her birthday.

Well, the party happened, and I brought a three tiered lemon cake with piped sunflowers. I even made some macarons for it. It was a pain in the ass to make, but it was all worth it to see Camille’s face when I walked in. Some of the family hadn’t seen the actual cake yet since Camille had it hidden away as a surprise, so they thought my cake was the birthday cake. Camille was livid, screaming at me for “upstaging me on her special day” and that she “knew [I] was an asshole from day one.” Her mom tried to calm her down, but she just got more upset. My partner and I left soon after.

I got a few angry texts later saying I shouldn’t have provoked her because I knew how she would react. Cakes are her thing too, so extra salt in the wound. I’ve been feeling a little guilty since other people are dealing with the blowback, not me. My partner doesn’t think I did anything wrong, but they also hate Camille, so I don’t know if I can trust their judgment on this. So Reddit, AITA?

Edit: Just wanted to answer a couple of questions. My partner was completely supportive of me making the cake. In fact, they showed me the post and suggested this was how I could get back at her. Yes, they’re petty, and that’s why I love them.

Partner’s family has always enabled Camille. It’s easier than confronting her, and they don’t want to cut her off because she’ll have no support system if they do. It’s mostly the older generation. The “kids,” aka the younger ones who are sick of her shit, want nothing to do with her but put up with it her for family’s sake.

We left the cake at her party. I don’t know what happened to it.

Edit 2: For privacy, I can’t share any pictures of the cake, but I promise mine was much better.

Update: The cousin who made the black forest cake texted me and said she liked the cake. She asked if I could give her some piping tips. No word from Camille yet, but her brother called to apologize for her behavior.

Update 2: A few people texted their support, and an uncle apologized for his angry texts. Partner thinks I shouldn’t accept it, but the thought still counts. Apparently, my in-laws took the cake home. They said it was delicious.

Update 3: Camille called and screamed at me some more. Until I apologize, she won’t attend any more family gatherings if I’m there, so I guess I won’t be seeing ever again, thank God. Thanks for all your feedback and comments.

[meibinnie]

selfish yeonjun

pairing: bsf! yeonjun x virgin! afab reader ft. hwang intak

genre: porn w little plot + angst

warnings: loss of virginity, break up, mentions of alcohol, protected sex (wrap before you tap), mentions of cum shots, cunnilings, fingering, mentions of oral (male receiving), no aftercare. mm i think that's it.

word count: 3.7k

note: this is my first kpop ff, be kind. i'm black so i usually imagine the reader as a black girl but you don't have to, i keep the description vague.

you and yeonjun have been best friends since middle school. your mothers worked at the same office and you guys just happened to click. he was more open with his sexual endeavors and relationships than you were. sure you’ve dated before but, you’ve never done anything sexual with anyone. 

not because you couldn’t or didn’t think about it sometimes. guys tried to ask you out a normal amount. you were undeniably attractive but you were so busy all the time.

you had school, your job at the arcade and then a million extra curricular activities which you were a complete ace at. dancing, archery, painting, track and field, swimming and your short lived softball career. it all kept you in great shape and it’s how you landed a full ride scholarship at a top art school in california. yeonjun knew he wanted to dance so like you planned, you ended up going to uni together. 

yeonjun loved you like normal best friends should. You guys have always gotten the typical “you’re secretly in love” or “you’ve at least kissed once” but nope. It had been completely platonic until you started dating hwang intak during your sophomore year of uni. you stopped working because your mom wanted you to focus on school so all that free time was spent with intak.

yeonjun didn't want you until he couldn't have you.

what made matters worse for him was that intak was so likeable. he treated you like a princess every chance he got. when he was around, you never had to lift a finger let alone pay for anything. he was always fucking touching you and yeonjun hated it. arm around your shoulders, your waist, hands massaging your hair while sitting with your group of friends or simply hands, even pinkies intertwined always. 

this is why it came to a surprise when yeonjun found out you hadn’t slept with him yet. “sex isn’t everything you know? we do other things” you frowned. “no, i know but you guys are always all over each other so i just assumed-”. “that’s your issue, don’t assume and i don’t wanna talk about this with you” you interrupted him. the pretty boy was taken aback by your tone, his eyes widened as the gears in his brain started turning “holy fuck, you’re a virgin aren’t you?”

your hands immediately flying up to your face to cover the redness spreading but it was no use, he could still see your ears. “shut up yeonjun. shut up, get out, go home” and he bursted into a fit of laughter, coming closer to hug you. “stop, it’s okay. don’t be embarrassed”. “Get off of me” you squirmed in his hold but he wouldn’t budge. “don’t fight it bambi, you love me” 

intak took you away from yeonjun more often than you’d like to admit though, you still made the time to hang out with your best friend. yeonjun hated having to share you with a whole other person who caused you to have to “make time for him” or whatever the fuck that meant. you laid on your bed, legs dangling over yeonjun’s as he sat up on his phone. “maxxxine comes out this friday, you wanna go see it?” he spoke suddenly. “i’m sorry jun, intak is taking me out for lunch that day”. he sighed in defeat, “you can’t get lunch some other time? he sees you all the time, we haven’t hung out in forever y/n”. You giggled at the poor boy’s whiny attitude and sat up too “we’re hanging out right now, plus my birthday’s coming up then we can all hang out”. yeonjun wanted to spend your birthday with you alone, not third wheeling with you and intak so he had to come up with something quick.

talking to intak was the last thing he wanted to do but he had to remind himself that he’s doing this because you're his best friend and he loves you. okay maybe he was also selfish and jealous, but loving you was definitely part of it. “we should throw a surprise party for her this weekend. she’s never had one before and who better to do it than us?” intak was esthetic about the idea. “we can invite the whole campus, people will be talking about it for weeks” yeonjun tilted his head knowing you’d hate something that big. “i was thinking of something more lowkey at my apartment. her friends and some of ours outside of the group?” he proposed the alternative. “yeah, she’d like that. We can set up everything this week”

as the week went on, yeonjun or intak hadn’t seen you because they’d been with each other. you weren’t at all suspicious but yeonjun started to feel so bad after getting to know intak. the guy was perfect for you and he couldn’t bring himself to dislike him. He had come up with this whole party just to not be a third wheel but now his only wish for your birthday is for you to be genuinely happy. 

“happy birthday princess!” intak said kissing you with care and ease. “thank you my love” you said against his lips. the two of you had to be at yeonjun’s apartment in an hour for what you thought was a chill movie night but intak couldn’t keep his hands off you. not seeing you all week really made him miss your touch and kisses so much. your skin was so soft, jean mini skirt leaving little to the imagination and your cropped sweater displaying the silver moon that decorated your belly button. Before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap leaning into his touch and subtly grinding on him. 

he gripped onto your waist, pressing you further into his crotch. his tongue slipped into your mouth causing you to moan into his mouth. your pretty noises spurred him on, he slid a hand up your skirt. right hand toying with the lace of your panties. you began to pull away but he wasn’t letting up. “mm tak, we should ohmgoshh. baby we should stop”. “i think we should keep going” his breath fanned against your lips. 

you put your hand on his chest stopping him from kissing you “let’s stop here, please?” you licked your plump lips. he let out a big exhale and a bitter chuckle, “are you fucking serious y/n?”. you looked at him bewilderedly with his newly found choice of tone. “intak we have to be somewhere, we’re all dressed up already” you tried explaining your reasoning. “so you’re gonna fuck me when we get back?” silence filled the room. “that’s what i thought” he scoffed,  pushing you off his lap”

“i have no idea what we’re doing here, we’ve been dating for a year and there has been zero sexual intimacy. what is wrong with you?” your eyes started to water, tears threatening to fall if he raised his voice any louder. you couldn’t answer him, you didn’t know why you didn’t want to have sex with him. “answer me!” he shouted at you. you blinked and tears began falling, “intak, i don’t know. I’m sorry” and you truly were sorry, he didn’t wanna hear that though. 

“you’re standing here crying over something so fucking stupid like a child. it’s simple, do you want me or not?” you nodded yes, small hand reaching out for him on instinct. “so then get on the bed and let me fuck you” your hand retracted and you shook your head no, unable to form a sentence and afraid anything you’d say would make him more angry. 

“i’m not doing this with you. i’ve had women begging me to fuck them for months and here i am playing house with you” he looked at you with complete disgust. like all the adoration he had for you never existed. Like you were nothing to him. “enjoy your movie with yeonjun, i’m not going. we’re done, you’re nothing to me” he took his jacket and he left, letting the door slam behind him. 

you wanted this to be a big joke but the longer you stood there unmoving, the more you realized how pathetic you were to believe that he was coming back. 

pulling you out of your trance your phone rang. You looked at the display name reading ”yeonjunie” and answered. 

“hey, i called intak and he isn’t answering. are you guys on your way yet?” you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and cleared your throat. 

“i’m leaving my place now sorry for hold up” you attempted to sound cheery. 

“don’t apologize bambi, is everything alright? you sound off” he knows you too well.

“no yeah yeah sorry, i’m just a little tired. i’ll see you in a few” 

“jesus christ, “im sorry, sorry sorry” stop that i’ll see you soon” he mocked you, making you giggle and brighten up. 

you knocked on yeonjun’s front door. “door’s open, come in” he shouted from the inside. “surprise! happy birthday y/n!” your eyes widened and a huge smile spread across your face.

you looked so beautiful he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. your skirt fit you perfectly and your sweater leaving all the right places of your skin exposed to him. 

god he felt like a fucking pervert but he couldn’t help thinking how his seed would look dripping down your torso and onto your belly button piercing. he had to stop himself before he got a hard on. besides that, you had a boyfriend who was now his friend and- your boyfriend, where the hell was intak. 

“bambi i thought you were coming with intak” he put his hand at the small of your back, guiding you further into the apartment. you gave him an unrecognizable look and before he knew it, your girlfriends were pulling you away and squealing with excitement. 

every time he tried to get you talking, he got a sentence or two in before someone was in your face giving you a gift, saying happy birthday or just sparking up conversation. 

yeonjun saw that you were having fun but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad happened to you. you avoided him all night, you avoided every drop of alcohol offered to you and when he finally got you alone and everyone left you burst into tears. 

“y/n, what happened?” he hugged you tightly while you shook with sadness in his arms. “he left me jun, i don’t know what i did wrong- all i did was tell him no but he-” shit, you were rambling and crying and you couldn’t even catch your breath. “shhh, it’s okay. breathe.” you started to take deep breaths and you finally broke the hug to look at your best friend.

“i didn’t wanna have sex with him, so he left” you said it as if you were the one in the wrong and it broke yeonjun’s heart to see you like this. 

“y/n it’s okay. he’s a fucking loser. you don’t owe him anything” he hugged you again, this time by the waist. You looked up at him through your wet lashes and this isn’t the time but you look so attractive right now he just wants to-

“yeonjun please kiss me” he wasn’t hearing you right. he couldn’t have been. you just got out of a relationship a few hours ago and you were completely sober. “i wanna forget him, just please”

he wanted to so bad and it was selfish of him. you didn’t want yeonjun to kiss you, you just wanted comfort from another man. you wanted to stop hurting because you weren’t used to having your heart broken like this.

who was he to deny you? with your wet full lips, knitted brows and long hair in your face, you were begging for him to please y- to comfort you. 

he connected your lips like he’d never be able to do it ever again because he probably wouldn’t. he tried to be respectful amidst this unknown territory placing his hand above your hip but you brought it down to your ass. he squeezed the flesh hard and you let out a small whimper into his mouth. 

his erection was growing with quickness and to make matters worse you let out a whine “jun, please fuck me”. it nearly had him bending you over and taking you there. like you could read his mind you spoke between kisses “be careful with me”. blinded by lust, he forgot you were a virgin. he cared about you so much, he wanted this to be special and he wanted it to feel good for the both of you.

“y/n are you sure? i think you should think about it first” he tried to reason with you. “yeonjun, i want you, i’m sure”. he wasted no time pushing against you til the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. he hovered above you and took in every second of this view. your chest heaving, hair strands in your face and your now swollen lips. 

he continued kissing you slowly, forcing himself to be patient and careful with you. yeonjun was used to quick hookups and those girls liked it so rough. but with you, he was afraid that you’d shatter at any sudden movement. 

kissing on your neck, nibbling and biting then smoothing them over with licks. you’ve never felt this way before and you are trying to focus on controlling your breathing. “do you mind taking this off?” he questioned while holding the hem of your sweater. and you nodded your head. 

“use your words bambi” he smirked, using the innocent childhood nickname during a sinful act. “take it off jun” you breathed out. you never wore bras unless you were working out, your tits were perky and he nearly drooled at them in all their glory. yeonjun dove in, wrapping his mouth around your right nipple. tongue swirling and flicking your bud while his hand gave attention to the other. 

your breaths were getting heavier, deeper and he could tell you were holding back. he let go of your nipple with a ‘pop’ sound “y/n it’s just me and you. you always mouth off to me so stop being so shy and let me hear you” you whimpered at his filthy words, trying to press your thighs together but it was no use with him between them.

he gave the same attention with his mouth to your left nipple while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. he sat up and took off his shirt in one swift motion. “ ‘m gonna make you cum with my fingers so it doesn’t hurt as much, you good with that?” he asked as he moved between your thighs, eyes not breaking contact with your own. “im all yours jun” you whimpered. 

he flipped up your skirt and slid your panties off while you lifted a bit to let him. “look at you, so sensitive. so wet for me already” his breath fanned your core. he rubbed his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. your hips automatically bucking and craving more from him. slipping his middle finger in, he began to pump in and out of you. “yeonjun, i want more” you sighed. “fuck, already?” he looked up not expecting an answer. “you don’t think i’ve touched myself before? it’s gonna take more than that for me to c-” interrupted by your own moan. yeonjun stuffing both fingers in you and pumping at a faster pace, nearly getting off to the thought of you touching yourself. 

he began humping the mattress beneath him as he brought his mouth to your pussy and started sucking on your clit. “oh god, junnie yes please. don’t stop” he sucked on you and pumped his fingers faster and faster like his life depended on it. 

he had to hurry up and make you cum because between the sounds you were making, the sinful squelching of your heat and him grinding against the bed, he knew he wouldn’t last long. 

“yeonjun ‘m cumming” you panted as your back arched off the bed and your legs shook. he let you cum on his tongue and he lapped up everything that you gave him. eating you til you rode out your high, he came up and clashed his lips against yours. it was so filthy and he kept going as he unbuckled his belt. 

he broke the kiss to kick off his jeans and boxers then settled between your thighs again. you were breathtaking, sprawled out on his bed, fucked out from his mouth and about to take cock for this first time, his. 

“bambi, are you sure you want this? there's no going back after” he looked at your glossy doe eyes, your long lashes and your pretty pout. “yeonjunie, i want this. i’m sure” you reassured him. he leaned over to pull a condom from his night stand and while you did, you finally looked down. 

what did you get yourself into? not only was he excelling in length but he had a good amount of girth to him too. “i’m gonna go slow, i promise” he said, breaking you out of your thoughts. it was more of a reminder to himself, he needed to be delicate with you. he got this urge to take care of you, keep you safe from anything that could hurt him, including himself. 

the condom was rolled on and the only thing left to do was to please himsel- please you. this was all about you. so when he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, you let out a deep content sigh. “tell me if it hurts okay? if you wanna stop, we can” and to that you nodded your head. he kissed you again, deeply and slowly while his shaft entered you hoping it’d distract you from the pain. “jun it hurts” you mumbled, breaking the kiss. 

“fuck i’m sorry, do you wanna stop?” he stilled. you took a few deep breaths “no, keep going”. he did as you asked, continuing to push in slowly. you were wincing, tensing up too much and making it hard for him to move. “y/n you gotta relax, it’s gonna hurt more if you keep doing that” his voice was so soothing and his look of care and concern made you feel safe. so you relaxed and let him bottom out. “tell me when to move” he breathed out, hoping you’d want him to move now before he lost all self control. 

“now please” you whined and with that he set a slow romantic pace. thrusted into you like he loved you because he did. “my pretty girl, always remembering her manners” he grunted lowly. you moaned at the praise he gave you and he liked that. actually he loved that and he didn’t want you to stop. “so fucking wet for me” “you look gorgeous stuffed with my cock” “you take me so well for your first time”. by his last sentence you were a moaning mess. high pitched breathy moans and skin slapping filled the room as yeonjun picked up the pace. 

“you close bambi?” he grunted in your ear. “mm now, right now jun, im gonna” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before coming undone. a few more strokes and yeonjun followed right after you, spilling into the condom and letting out a deep moan in your ear. 

“fuck y/n. You good?” he held himself up to look at your fucked out expression. Your mascara running and sweat dripping from your forehead. still the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. “i’m okay” you smiled widely. He wishes this could be permanent, an everyday routine between you two but it couldn’t. you and intak had too much history for you to just move on like that, you both knew that. 

he pulled out of you, leaving you empty once again and disposing of the condom. when he came back to the room, he started picking up his clothes and putting them back on. you sat up on the bed, now feeling exposed and cold. He didn’t spare you a single glance. 

“yeonjun?” you called out to him expectantly. he finally looked at you, “i’m gonna go finish cleaning up the living room. it’s your birthday, you don’t have to help”. why was he being so weird now? “okay..” you trailed off, trying to think of something to get him talking to you without this weird tension. “next time we do this, i want your cock in my mouth” you said, voice laced with confidence. on his way out of his bedroom he stopped and turned to you “y/n you just broke up with your boyfriend. i don’t think we should be doing this again. let’s just go back to being y/n and yeonjun, like we were before intak showed up” he could see your heart break into a million pieces and yet you tried acted like it was nothing. 

smoothing your skirt out and putting your sweater back on. “sorry, you’re right. i don’t know what’s wrong with me” he gave you a tight smile and went off to the living room. as he closed the door, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding. 

yeonjun didn’t want to hurt you the way intak did and he’d been with so many girls he wasn’t ready to settle down with you forever. it was best to remain friends and pretend like nothing happened. he was afraid he’d be fully consumed by you and not be able to function properly. so for once he put his desires aside and did what was best for you. 

of course he wanted you, wanted to come home and fuck you after a difficult day of classes, take you on romantic dates and one day breed you and make you carry his baby but it wasn’t fair to you. it wasn’t what you wanted and you deserved genuine love, not infatuation and obsession.

[kylobith]

Little Town Tails

Chapter 6: Something Fishy

Summary: A curious visitor comes to Emerald Grove.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 4,831

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

‘Ah, Halsin, there you are!’

‘Good morning, Jaheira,’ he greets the florist back with a bright grin. He wipes his muddy shoes on the rubber mat outside until they are presentable enough to go in. Behind him, Scratch sits at the door, unleashed, waiting for Halsin to be done with his visit before heading home.

Jaheira grins at the white dog and whistles, calling him inside. The dog eyes his owner hesitantly, but when the latter gives him an approving nod, Scratch trots up behind the counter to be petted by his host. She grabs the banana she was snacking on and takes off a piece she offers him.

Halsin approaches the counter and smiles at the sight, always happy to see that his dog is accepted somewhere. While petting Scratch behind the ears, Jaheira looks at his visitor and smirks.

‘Walked around the forest this morning again?’

‘Indeed. The weather was perfect, but last night’s rain made the ground a bit soft, as you could tell from my boots.’

‘It’s always like that. At least they say that this spring will bring more sunny days than usual,’ she adds, chuckling as the dog lies down at her feet. ‘Anyway, did you happen to see Minsc at all? I’ve been trying to call him for two days because he ordered a fresh bouquet, but now the flowers are waning.’

He leans on his elbows and fidgets with one of her business cards on the counter.

‘I did, he was patrolling the area by the other bridge. Had I known, I would have reminded him.’

‘Oh, don’t bother. It’s always like that with him. He tends to forget what he orders on a whim. He’s always ready to support my shop since I opened but he never picks up his orders. He did, once, but that was a flower for Boo’s birthday and he ordered flax seeds. That was it.’

They share a laugh. Minsc certainly is quite the character, anyone meeting him can tell. Quite eccentric compared to the rest of Heawick, but he adds to the charm of the community. Whenever somebody needs help, whether when the flower shop was merely an idea sprouting into Jaheira’s mind or with Beaky’s incident with the bear trap, he never hesitates to lend a hand, even though it tends to distract him from his daily tasks and chores. Yet, there is no better forest warden.

Jaheira flips through the pages of her logbook and finds Halsin’s recent order.

‘So, the spider plant, was it?’ she says absent-mindedly. ‘Found a gorgeous one for you. Fluffy, in good health. Perfect for your counter.’

‘Eager to see it!’

She chuckles and heads to the back to fetch the plant. She returns with precisely what she promised him, setting it down on her counter for him to examine. He touches the long leaves between his fingers, sensing the freshness of their greenish white stripes and admiring the way that they curve elegantly around the gold-painted bucket serving as its display pot.

‘What a beauty!’ he coos, his eyes sparkling in awe. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Eighteen gold coins.’

‘Perfect, thank you.’

He takes out and begins to rummage through his coin purse, which takes Jaheira by surprise and causes her to smile. Shaped like the head of a teddy bear, its fur is made from light brown fleece, and the eyes and nose are embroidered in black and pink thread. He bought it at a flea market a few years ago on one of the rare holidays he allowed himself to take. Many raised an eyebrow to see a grown man buy it for himself, but even though he is far from materialistic, it is one of the few objects that he has grown particularly fond of.

He places the eighteen gold coins in the palm of Jaheira’s hand and slips two more into her tip jar.

‘Thank you,’ she says with a brief bow of her head. ‘Don’t forget to repot it from time to time, the roots tend to grow fast. And water it once to twice a week. It’s usually alright if you skip a week, as long as you don’t do it for a month straight.’

The veterinarian laughs and watches the florist remove the plant from the yellow pot. He purses his lips and tilts his head.

‘How much for that pot? It suits the plant quite well.’

Jaheira stops and eyes the bucket.

‘Oh, this? Ah, just take it. On the house.’

‘Certainly not,’ Halsin protests, unzipping his coin purse again and counting the coins in it. ‘Name your price.’

‘I insist, take it. I bought it years ago but it doesn’t suit my home, I use it for visualisation most of the time… Or as a pencil pot.’

She nudges it towards him with a wink. With a sigh and a heavy blush, Halsin slips ten gold coins into the tip jar and winks back. Once the plant is back in the bucket, he calls out for Scratch, who seeks one last pet from Jaheira, then rushes to his owner’s feet. The veterinarian and the florist exchange cheerful goodbyes, and the former exits the shop with his dog in tow and the spider plant tucked in the crook of his elbow.

Halsin whistles a tune as he crosses Heawick with his free hand buried in his pocket. He nods politely at everybody he sees with a smile and continues his walk back to Emerald Grove. The town is still awaking from its slumber and some of the shops are only just opening. Sometimes it still surprises him that Jaheira decides to open hers this early, but as she once said to him, she prefers to tackle her daily routine in the early hours, then close one or two hours before most shops so she can enjoy the town herself and have a longer evening to relax or meet up with her friends at the old pub on Westway Street.

Come to think of it, it is not such a bad idea. Shop owners and employees seldom have the opportunity to shop for themselves, unless they work half shifts or rely on partners who have the time to buy everything they need. More often, their only occasion to do so is on Saturdays, but the busy aisles deter quite a few. Since Heawick has a wider variety of establishments of all the nearing towns — not counting the city, of course —, its streets bustle with visitors on that particular day.

As he turns onto his street, he switches hands to hold the plant and fumbles through his pocket to find his keys. When he pulls them out and looks up to make sure that he does not walk too far, he notices the figure of a man peering through the windows of the practice. Dressed in black from head to toe, matching with his silky and spiky raven hair, the man does not seem to have come with a pet and does not seem particularly eager to enter.

‘Good morning,’ Halsin greets him with an eyebrow raised. ‘May I help you? Do you have or need an appointment?’

The man is startled despite the veterinarian’s soft tone. He straightens up and looks over at Halsin, seemingly analysing him in detail. The stranger rubs his index and thumb together and scowls at Scratch, who does not dare approach him at all. His demeanour already betrays the fact that he comes from the richer quarters of the city and is not used to visiting the area at all. There is a haughty air to him in the way that he carries himself, as if the word ‘peasant’ is about to slip off his tongue at any moment to describe Halsin and his shockingly unleashed pet.

‘No,’ he replies in a honeyed tone still tinted with firmness. ‘But I will come back later.’

Without uttering another word, the man spins around on his heel and walks away, leaving Halsin utterly confused with his key in hand. What a strange character.

The veterinarian shrugs it off and enters the dark practice, ushering Scratch inside before closing the door again behind him. He walks over to Karlach’s counter and finds a suitable spot for the plant, making sure to stand on both sides of the desk to ensure that the view is not obstructed for neither his assistant or a patient’s owner. But in the end, he finds that it does not quite fit there with the cards and flyers and tip jar, so he carries it over to the small coffee table in the centre of the waiting room. At least, if the anxious pets munch on the leaves, they will not be sick from it.

After a brief shower and a change into scrubs, he lets Scratch rest upstairs and heads back to the practice to follow the daily opening routine. As he takes a minute to make himself a cup of fruity tea — a bold decision considering how often he drinks his signature mint and honey infusion —, his mobile phone pings. Karlach’s name appears on the screen.

‘Morning doc, sorry but I’ll be late today, Vixen just won’t start! I’ll be there ASAP, promise promise!’

Halsin grins and immediately types back as he flicks the light switches on and shuffles towards the front door without paying much attention to his surroundings.

‘It should be quiet for the first hour, hopefully you will have found a way by then. Good luck finding an alternative! Perhaps you can ask Gale? Halsin. PS: I hope that Vixen will be alright. Too bad that she is not the type of vixen that I would treat at the practice :-).’

His wrist flicks to unlock the door while he re-reads the message to correct any typos he might have made. Eager to let some fresh air in, he opens the door wide.

‘Morning, doctor!’

Halsin nearly drops his phone when he jolts in surprise, not having expected that somebody might have already arrived. After all, he does not have any appointment planned before an hour. Outside, wiping her feet on the mat, Tav smiles at him with twinkling eyes and a light flush from noticing that her sudden greeting startled him.

His heart instantly leaps inside his chest and his lips mirror her grin.

‘Oh, good morning Miss Ashguard! I apologise for my reaction, I did not expect such an early visit. Is everything alright?’

Tav quickly combs her fingers through her freshly-cut curtain fringe. It suits her incredibly well, he catches himself thinking. The way that it sweeps across her eyebrows, its colour only highlighting the deep blue of her irises… It nearly steals the breath from his lungs.

‘Yes, yes, everything’s fine!’

He steps aside and invites her inside. As she passes him by with a light step, he closes his eyes for a second, savouring the aroma of her flowery perfume. As he realises what he is doing, he clears his throat and follows her to the reception.

‘Do you need anything more for the case against Mr Bongle? Perhaps I have forgotten to include some information in the report?’

She leans her elbows on the counter and does not seem able to eff the smile across her rosy cheeks. The sight, however sweet and pleasant, does stir something within him and he curses himself internally for reacting the way that he does.

‘No, not at all. The lawyer said it was quite complete, actually. She’s revising the case and I just have to wait now,’ she chimes with a shrug. ‘I’ve come here because there’s a stray cat in my street that’s been going around for a while but lately he’s been looking quite thinner. The old lady who used to feed it everyday died a few weeks ago, and I’m not sure anyone feeds him anymore.’

Her gaze wanders over to the rows of kibble bags on the display shelves.

‘I’d like to buy some food for him just to be on the safe side, and since I don’t want to risk giving him the wrong stuff, I thought I’d buy it here.’

‘I see,’ he responds with a nod. His eyes brighten up at the thought that she cares for an animal that is not hers. Most people he has seen refuse to approach stray animals out of fear that they might catch diseases or fleas, and while some caution is always advised, too many of them end up suffering all sorts of infections that go untreated and only cause them agony. Knowing that there is someone like Tav out there caring enough to notice the change in the cat’s weight gives him hope.

Halsin steps back to peruse the selection he has got, heading straight to the cat section.

‘Do you know how old the cat is, approximately?’ he asks.

‘Mmh, he doesn’t look too old. Hears and sees properly from what I know, his fur isn’t too patchy. Some neighbour said the old lady fed him for about three years.’

‘Then let us take one for adult cats to be on the safe side. I suppose that you do not happen to know what type of kibble she gave him?’

‘Not at all. Sorry.’

He nods and asks her a few more questions about what behaviours she has noticed from the cat in general. Once he is able to define a clearer profile of the animal, he picks a bag and sets it down on the counter, pointing at the information written on it with his pen.

‘This is food that is perfect for a cat used to the outdoors, aged five years or more. If it turns out that he is slightly younger, that should not cause any trouble. Since you said that he is on the lighter side, I would recommend thirty grammes of kibble per day. See how much he manages to eat and add a little more if he starts gaining a bit of weight again. But do not give him more than forty-five grammes, since it is likely that he hunts mice or birds on the side.’

‘Noted!’

Reaching into a cabinet behind the reception, he takes out a measuring cup and places it next to the bag.

‘This should help you measure the food without a kitchen scale.’

‘Practical. Alright, let’s take it!’

Halsin smiles and circles the recommended doses on the bag so she does not forget the amount he has told her to give the stray cat. He signs in to his software and enters the right reference to log the sale.

‘Would you like me to add it to your patient account in case you need to buy some new kibble later on?’

‘Gladly,’ she responds cheerfully, leaning her cheek into the palm of her hand while watching him typing on the keyboard.

‘Done! That will be twenty-two gold coins, please. The measuring cup is free.’

Tav takes out her credit card and pays for the bag. Once her wallet is stored away into her small cross-body bag, she carries the dry food under her arm and holds the measuring cup between her fingers.

‘Thank you very much, doctor.’

‘You are most welcome. If anything, I should thank you for caring for the cat.’

She returns his smile and tucks her hair behind her pointy ear, whose tip is reddening. Before he starts staring at it, Halsin drums his fingers on the counter.

‘Oh, before I forget, I beg you not to leave out milk for the cat, because—’

‘— because cats are naturally lactose intolerant,’ she completes his sentence with a smug expression that can be likened to this of a pupil who is proud to show that they have learnt their lessons by heart.

‘Indeed,’ he chuckles. ‘Well, it seems that the cat is in most capable hands, I can sleep soundly at night.’

Tav laughs and readjusts her grip on the bag.

‘When I’m released into society, I’m the type to always bring up that fact and everyone gets annoyed,’ she laughs.

‘At least you are spreading the good word out there. I did not know that you were doing public service on top of jingle compositions.’

‘I’m full of surprises, doctor.’

They share a playful grin, which lingers perhaps a bit longer than it should. His heart stirs when he notices the twinkle in her eye and the subtle reddening of her cheekbones. When her fingers unconsciously loosen around the measuring cup and it slips out of her grasp, he skilfully catches it before it bounces on the floor and hands it back to her.

‘Oh, thanks,’ she mumbles bashfully, tucking it under her free arm. ‘If anything goes wrong with the cat, can I try and bring him here?’

‘Of course. I will be happy to help.’

‘You’re the best! Thanks again. Have a lovely day, doctor.’

‘You too, Miss Ashguard. If you have any doubts, you can always contact me.’

‘I will!’

She waves at him and walks out of the practice. His eyes follow her as he sighs dreamily. However, his distraction is quickly cut short when he finds himself face to face with Astarion stepping inside with a cup of blood from the butcher.

‘Morning.’

‘Ah, good morning, my friend! Could I ask you a favour?’

The vampire grunts and slides his sunglasses up, letting them rest on top of his head. His ruby irises scowl at the veterinarian. Favours are never good in the younger man’s book. Or rarely.

‘I suppose I don’t have a choice,’ he mumbles. ‘What do you want?’

Halsin crosses his arms. No matter how much he tries to connect with him, even if just on a superficial level, Astarion always keeps his guard up and his distance. Honeyed words sometimes ornate his speech, but they never feel genuine, merely a façade that shelters him from others. He does not need to befriend him, of course, but he wishes that they could get along as well as he and Karlach do. But again, everything is easier with her. Sometimes, she might be too social and kind in a world that does not always value such qualities.

‘Karlach’s motorcycle broke down this morning, so she will be late. Do you mind working the reception until she arrives?’

Panic fills Astarion’s eyes right away. He furrows his brow and tries to act nonchalant, but his hesitation clearly stands out.

‘Wh— I don’t even know how any of this works!’

‘Do not worry, I am not saying that you must do all her tasks. If you could keep an eye on the appointments list and welcome the patients, that will help tremendously already. If the phone rings, answer it and write down the names and numbers, I will call them back between consultations. If it is urgent, do not hang up; call for me instead.’

‘Mh. That sounds doable. Alright.’

Astarion walks to the kitchen to drop his jacket and sunglasses, then comes back to the reception. He sits behind the desk and Halsin shows him everything he needs to know. Then, the veterinarian walks into his office and logs in to the general inbox and answers some emails himself.

Soon enough, the first appointment of the day arrives and Astarion directs them to the waiting room, where Halsin eventually comes to call them in. The consultation goes smoothly despite the very reticent puppy howling dramatically at the prospect of receiving one of her first shots. When he is done, Halsin guides the owner and the pet to the reception and registers the payment himself, before offering a treat to the brave puppy.

When they walk out, Halsin’s phone pings again.

‘Found a way, Dammon is bringing me. Be there in ten. Btw, doc, did you just make a joke?? And use a smiley??! Who are you and what did you do to Doc Halsin???’

Halsin laughs and updates Astarion on Karlach’s estimated time of arrival. Before the second consultation, a grumpy customer enters and asks for an anti-flea treatment suitable for a corgi. Once he has explained how to apply the solution efficiently, the veterinarian slithers back behind the desk and Astarion rolls a few inches away with his chair to give him enough space to deal with it all. 

‘Do you already have an account?’ Halsin asks the amber-eyed tiefling, whose tail is whipping around behind him in annoyance.

‘This little shit is not my dog, thank the Gods!’ the customer answers with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. ‘He’s my sister’s.’

‘I see. Does she have an account?’

‘Listen, can I just buy the treatment and go? I feel like I’m being devoured by fleas myself as we speak!’

‘Of course.’

Without protesting, he processes the sale and gives the little pipettes to the young man, who turns around with another scoff and leaves as fast as he can, scratching his head harder than he probably should.

Eyeing the man with concern, Halsin leans towards Astarion.

‘Do you think the dog is at risk with him?’

Much to his surprise, the vampire laughs while filing his nails and admiring the result.

‘Most likely. I know him. Well, know is perhaps a strong word, but I’ve spoken to him a few times. As you can clearly tell, he’s from the city. He’s one of the most arrogant pricks I’ve talked to, and it takes one to know one. He owns a bookshop specialised in academic publications of all sorts, and my husband happens to love the place.’

Could it be? Is he actually opening up by accepting to gossip with him? Not that Halsin particularly likes hearsay and talking negatively about people in their backs, but this exchange already brightens up his day.

The vampire carefully taps his glass nail file on the edge of the bin under the desk to rid it of dust, then tucks it away in its little sleeve.

‘But don’t worry, Rolan’s all bark and no bite, he won’t hurt that pup,’ he continues while shoving the file inside his shirt pocket. ‘You know, he’s clever and all, but Gale took him down a notch a couple of times. You know what? I think my husband’s at his hottest when he gives arrogant people a reality check.’

‘That is good to know, I suppose.’

‘Trust me, doc, I think your next appointment’s here.’

Indeed, the next patient comes in and Halsin welcomes him warmly. Halfway through the consultation, he hears the faint sounds of the sewing machine upstairs, and he concludes that Karlach must have arrived in the meantime and relieved Astarion of his temporary duty.

Halsin does not see her until he finishes the next examination and logs everything into the computer. His assistant pokes her head in when the patient leaves and speaks in a hushed voice.

‘Morning, doc! Uh… There’s an odd chum lurking around in the lobby, doesn’t have a pet or anything and he keeps ignoring me when I ask him if I can help him.’

The veterinarian turns around with an eyebrow raised and instantly rises from his high stool.

‘Go back to the reception, I will talk to him.’

Karlach nods and does as he instructed her, sitting back on her chair and anxiously browsing playlists for something that will calm her nerves while being acceptable to play from the practice’s speakers. Situations like this one is among those she has been dreading most about working at Emerald Grove. Owners losing their pets and leaving without their furry or feathery friends remains the worst of all, but weird and creepy people are close.

In previous jobs, she had her fair share of lurking visitors and customers who made her feel uncomfortable, but the employee handbooks always stated that she could not shoo them away outright. Either a manager or security had to do it. Sadly, it often left her feeling incapable of fending for herself and infantilised.

Soon enough and much to her relief, help is on the way and Halsin arrives, clicking a pen. Without making himself look menacing either, he puffs up his chest slightly. If anybody seeks trouble, he is hoping that his size and his brawn will dissuade whoever stands before him. But as he catches a glimpse of the man in question, his stomach tightens. Intent on not showing his discomfort to Karlach, he smiles and speaks as naturally as possible.

‘Good afternoon, sir. I believe we have met this morning, you were looking inside the practice before opening time?’

The man turns around with a smug smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes so dark that one cannot quite pinpoint their colour. Now that Halsin is closer, he can discern the man’s outfit more clearly. Tucked into high-waisted trousers, his tailored black silk shirt with the top five buttons left undone allows his black chest hair to peek out. His overcoat adorned with golden embroideries has its collar upturned, completely covering the back of his neck. If anything, it gives him a menacing look, as though he is the villain of a fairytale come to life, but dressed as a model.

‘You are the veterinarian who owns the practice, aren’t you?’ the man answers at last with a brief squint of his eyes.

‘Indeed, I am. May I be of any help?’

‘Oh, I am merely looking around.’

As he says so, the stranger buries his hands into his pockets and paces around, inspecting the walls and the layout of the reception and the waiting room. Karlach sneaks a glance towards her boss, wondering how he is going to handle this most peculiar situation. Without blinking, Halsin steps forward, tucking his pen into the breast pocket of his scrubs.

‘May I know what you are looking for, sir?’

‘This is a beautiful working space you’ve got here. Most impressive.’

Before he can press him on, the stranger faces Halsin with a smirk, rubbing his fingers together in the same unsettling way that he did earlier this morning.

‘Tell me, have you ever considered selling this practice?’

Halsin crosses his arms. This time, he has no intention to behave in the same friendly manner. While he knows that escalating such a ridiculous situation would be useless, he knows now that he does not want this man lurking around anymore.

‘No, sir. We have only just opened, thank you very much. Now, if you do not wish to make an appointment or buy anything for a pet, I kindly ask you to leave. I must soon tend to another patient.’

‘Oh, that’s a bloody shame. Well. I’ll see what I can do.’

The man reaches into his inside pocket and takes out a business card, which he hands the veterinarian by tucking it between two well-groomed fingers.

‘In case you change your mind, I would be very happy to discuss it with you. Here’s my contact information. The name’s Enver Gortash.’

Without as much as a goodbye, Gortash walks out of the practice, leaving a dumbfounded pair at the reception. Karlach stands up from her chair, her gaze shifting between the door and Halsin.

‘What in the hells just happened, doc? What the fuck was that about?’

Her boss examines the business card he is holding with a deep frown.

‘I have no clue, Karlach. I am quite at a loss, to be honest with you.’

‘What did he say his name was?’

Halsin hands her the business card. Before she even gives it a look, she sits back on her chair and drags her keyboard towards herself, instantly typing the name in her browser. His curiosity piqued by the results, he joins her behind the desk and leans in to read what comes up on the screen. Karlach clicks on a biographical article from a business-centred media website and begins to skim it.

‘Fuck me, Gortash’s quite the big guy,’ she mumbles pensively. ‘Owns a big company that owns lots of brands itself. Apparently, he’s known for gentrifying the shit out of many neighbourhoods in several cities already. He’s kicked out independent shops to establish a coffee chain and turning flats into offices.’

His eyes scan the same words and the more they read, the tighter the lump in his throat feels. Karlach hands him the mouse so he can peruse the article himself and open others. He checks several sources, and much to his dismay, the information they read in the first article seem to be confirmed through others.

‘I do not like how that sounds,’ he whispers.

‘Me neither, doc. But now that you told him off, he’ll lose interest, right?’

‘Mh. I doubt it. But now I wonder if he has shown interest in other places in Heawick. There is only one way to know.’

The assistant looks up quizzically as he sighs heavily and crosses his arms.

‘If anybody in Heawick knows anything, it is Melly.’

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi @reignydeys @cakenpiewhyohmy @beardedladyqueen

[slafkovskys]

Teasing arber xhekaj?

um this went a little further then it was supposed to… oops also hi to my first attempt something not sfw in a whole year don’t come for me

warnings: nsfw (18+ content), language, public fingering, mentions of sharing

“what in the hell,” chelsea grumbles as she wraps a hand around your elbow, pulling you back from the rest of your group, “did you send your husband and why is he asking me about it?”

“he’s asking you about it?” you raise an eyebrow, turning your head away from where your friends were piling into the car to stare at the blonde, “what did he say?”

“answer my question and i’ll answer yours.”

you shrug your shoulders as you tug her along through the lobby of your building, “i may have sent him a picture after i was done getting ready and then ignored him when he started blowing my phone up, the usual. now, what did he say to you?”

“‘please tell me she didn’t wear that to the game,’” you snort as you slide into the suv beside nissa who throws her arm over your shoulders, already tipsy from the pregame. “i didn't respond.”

“please do and please say yes,” you smile, leaning into chelsea when nissa holds up her phone for a selfie. you turn to look at your friend, “let me have a little fun tonight.”

she stares at you for a second before nodding, pulling her phone out of her bag as she clicks her tongue, “i am so jealous of you.”

“they’re already there!” avery whines from the third row. “how did they get there so quick?”

“juraj has been talking about this all week. he was probably the first one out of the locker room,” you say, pulling out your phone to stare at all of the notifications from arber. with a smirk on your lips, you shut your phone off and twist your wedding band around your finger, “you haven’t met juraj yet, have you ave?”

“nope!”

“remind me to introduce you,” you mumble as the car pulls up outside of the club. one surprise is the line that was outside and another was your husband, dressed in half of his game day suit and practically staring you down through the tinted windows. chelsea pushes open the door before the driver could even get out and you send him a smile, “thanks toby!”

you all stumble out in a fit of giggles, avery needing some help to get out from the last row, but when you finally get settled, you turn to face arber. you send him a smile as you throw your arms over his shoulders, pressing your lips to his, “good game baby.”

“thanks,” his voice is gruff as he speaks and his hand slides down your back to cop a feel of your ass, causing your cheeks to burn as your friends let out various noises of encouragement. arber doesn’t seem to care as his lips graze against your ear, “you didn’t really wear that to the game, did you honey?”

“‘course i did, just had my coat over it. the arena’s not that cold,” you send him a smug grin as you press your lips to his cheek, “it’s what i’m not wearing that you should be concerned about.”

the dress in question, well, it wasn’t something that anyone should really wear to a hockey game especially one at the tail end of march in montreal. it was short, barely hitting the middle of your thigh and even with the long sleeves, your exposed shoulders paired with the way it dipped in the back would do you no good in a hockey arena, so of course you hadn’t worn it. you just liked the way his face fell at the assumption you had.

your hand slides down his arm and you intertwine your fingers, tugging him towards the door. as you walk through, security gives arber a nod as though they were old friends or something, arber puts his hands on your hips as he guides you towards your section for the night, “you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.”

“what are you gonna do about it?” a big smile takes over your face as you see juraj, “there’s the birthday boy!”

“y/n!” he cheers, stepping away from cole to throw his arms around you. you let him rock you from side to side, “is amazing. so good. thank you!”

“you thought i wouldn’t go all out for your birthday?” you raise an eyebrow, watching as his cheeks flush. you shove at his chest, “none of that. wait until you see your cake, it’s even better.”

“don’t know how it could be. best party ever!”

you laugh as he slips away from you, letting avery grab your arm and pull you away from the boys and towards one of the booth seats in the section. she leans towards you, “drinks are covered, right?”

“yeah, they covered it,” you wave your hand around, not really knowing who ‘they’ was yourself. you were just mostly in charge of planning the party, everything else had fallen on the boys including getting juraj here after the game against the panthers. “get whatever. just be realistic about it.”

“i’m not going to- holy shit. there’s a two thousand dollar bottle of alcohol in here,” she flips through the menu and you sigh, knowing someone would probably order it before the night was over. the second that avery gets her drink in her hand, she’s practically climbing over you to get out of the booth and join your friends, but you’re not alone for long.

arber slides in beside you and you move to accommodate him. he grabs your hand, pushing up your ring to run his thumb over the black ink that was underneath, ax, an ode to your elementary school boyfriend turned lifelong partner. through the neon lights that flashed above your head, you catch sight of the matching one he had on his own ring finger of your initials since he wasn’t able to wear his ring all of the time because of hockey.

just two kids in love, one of his teammates had cooed when they had found out what you had done and neither of you corrected them.

chills erupt over your body as his fingers tap against your thigh, “you weren’t being serious earlier, were you?”

“you should know better than to call my bluff, xhekaj,” you do a sweep of the crowd to make sure that no one was paying attention to you before you nudge his hand up your dress. “see for yourself.”

and, boy, does he.

with nothing to stop him, he is met with the wetness that has already started to pool between your legs ever since you had first seen him outside of the club with his black shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up. he takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes on you as he rubs his thumb over your clit causing you to close your legs around his wrist. he chuckles, “baby, you put yourself in this situation. now open your fucking legs.”

“fucking asshole,” you mumble but comply.

“i’m the asshole? you’re the one who shows up to a club without any panties on. you did do that for me or someone else? maybe i should give you to juraj, let him have you as his birthday present, hm?” you gasp as he runs his finger down your slit, collecting some of your arousal before pushing it in. the intrusion wasn’t a surprise, but his words were, “would you like that, honey?”

“i-” you clench around his finger, shooting your hand over to grab at his wrist, “arber-”

“i’ve seen the way that he looks at you. kid’s got a crush and i don’t blame him. my wife’s hot,” you feel him smirk against your neck as he adds another finger, “too bad i don’t share you.”

“i knew you wouldn’t,” you let out quietly and he chuckles, “possessive motherfucker.”

“yeah, still didn’t answer my question.”

“because i was hoping when you found out you’d take me to the bathroom, fuck me, and make me come back out here with you dripping out of me and act like nothing ever happened,” his fingers still and so does his breathing. you let out a breathy chuckle as you nudge his wrist to get him to start back up, but he doesn’t, “what? cat got your tongue?”

“bathroom. ten minutes.”

is all he says, pulling his fingers out of you. he slides out of the booth and shoves them into his mouth, sending you a smirk before turning to conversate with his teammates while you hustle to grab your bag and slide out of the booth on shaky legs. nissa and chelsea send you a confused glance as you pass by and you just mouth the word ‘bathroom’ to which they give a thumbs up, slipping back into their conversation with your husband’s teammates.

once you find it, you slip inside and quickly close the door behind you and twist the lock. you lean your back against the door and try to catch your breath waiting for your husband to show up. ten minutes comes and goes and of course he would leave you teetering on the brink. when almost twenty minutes passes, you’re ready to give up when a familiar, coded knock sounds on the other side.

you twist the lock.

requests are closed!

[inkblackandblue]

“These Don’t Fit”

Note: this one isn't character related and can be a fill in! Figured I’d do a spicier one for anyone who likes slight spice lol.

“These Pants Got Small”

Ah, Saturday mornings. The first day where work isn’t the thing you’re worrying about. Instead, your concern is to see if the coffee maker will have perked your coffee by the time you wake up at 9:30 AM. This particular Saturday morning was a little different than usual, however, as I knew my spouse had an urgent early meeting to attend to. I’m positive he’d grimaced as much as I had, given that weekends aren’t supposed to carry that activity, but it had been made apparent that there was no way around it.

I’d woken up earlier than usual to cook breakfast before their departure, knowing that work events usually took place outside our central city, which was quite far out. There, of course, was the other reason I wanted my partner to eat, which would be the whole “pregnant people eating for two thing.” He’d recently started showing a lot more than before, so I figured it had to be even more important that both partner and baby got what they needed—the best moment of my week did happen because of this schedule deviation. Halfway through pan-flipping my sunny-side egg, I heard distinct swearing coming from our shared bedroom, which was quite loud. Not wanting to burn their food past consumption, I gradually turned off the burner and flipped my egg a few more times before gently transferring it to the plate, eavesdropping for more swearing as I did so. Finally, curiosity got the better of me from listening in, so I followed the noise to our room, finding my husband in our walk-in closet, pants hopelessly hanging on by a thread.

I knew my response had to be respectful and, in fact, not horny, as they looked dreadfully upset at his dilemma. “Hey, heard you swearing from the kitchen; everything alright?” I say, half groggy, while walking closer to the situation. I wasn’t entirely awake; in fact, I may have been cooking on autopilot. My partner glanced up from the mirror, then back down at their pants, then back up to meet my concerned, furrowed brow. “I cannot get these to fit, and they are my last pair.” He replied, motioning to the unzipped zipper with the loose buttons. Had this been under any other circumstances, my response would have been the expected “Why not keep them off then?” Followed by a romantic pounce, but I knew better than to poke the potentially agitated, hangry bear. Gently, I approached further, gauging what was before me. His taught belly stretched the dress pants to their absolute limit, making the idea of simply tying to zip them up with a rubber band nearly impossible. I looked up at his face to read his emotions, which appeared to be mixed. They were flushed from trying to force the pants up, potentially aroused at the idea of things not fitting anymore, maybe—that or just plain pissed at the world. I tried to think if I had anything that could serve as a solution, and then it hit me. I had more oversized dress pants- saved for his birthday in the basement. It was supposed to be a surprise in a couple of weeks as I knew by then he’d definitely need an adjusted wardrobe; I just hadn’t expected he’d get that big that fast.

I did know I’d first have to lighten the mood to ensure he felt confident enough to walk out the door in a couple of hours, as not to jeopardize his position in the company. “Honey.” I started, rubbing his shoulders from behind before lowering my hands to his widened waist. “I think I have some dress pants that’ll fit way better than these; these pants might have to be benched for now.” He turned away from the mirror to face me, locking eyes with me sheepishly. “I knew they were on the verge of being done; I just didn’t want to admit I was showing that much.” He retorted quietly. As I mentioned, it could be hard to read him sometimes. We had enough time to work this out over breakfast rather than in the doorway, so I led him across the hall wordlessly and sat him at the table, reheating our breakfasts before sitting down myself. “It’s going to happen, you know, the outgrowing thing. Babies tend to make more space for themselves over time; it’s normal.”

I said, briefly brushing my hand through his curls. His face contorted in between eating, processing my statement. “I do like it a little. It’s embarrassing to say. It’s inconvenient, but I always liked the idea of outgrowing everything blissfully.” He gestured to his bump, now slightly raised from the food we’d been eating. I pause to figure out what I’d like to say next. “Well, I mean. You’ll probably be outgrowing more things soon if you keep going at this pace.” I smirk. They look back at the floor, attempting to stay mature about the whole thing. After a minute of slightly awkward silence, a chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, well, like I said. I wouldn’t mind. You’d take care of me anyways, wouldn’t you?” He questioned, returning my smirk. I put my fork down at this, blushing a little.

I knew I could not play into this little game if I wanted him to get to his destination on time. So instead, I figured I could tease a little; that way, they’d think about it all day for when he got home. “Oh, I’ll definitely take care of you, feeding and pampering you while you rest your sore, bloated baby belly. Wouldn’t that be nice?” His cheeks completely flushed, grasping his middle automatically. They hadn’t expected I’d go for it completely; that would be why he’d replaced his somewhat flirty demeanor with a dear-in-the-headlights look. With that, I stood, placed our empty joint plates in the sink, and walked past him. I gave him a peck on the cheek before silently (and triumphantly) descending into the basement to get his new trousers. The rest of the morning went on without a hitch. The pants fit well, maybe a little tight around his love handles. As they left for work, I stood close by the door, smiling like an idiot. “Hey, sweetheart?” I called out. “Maybe we can try on the rest of your pants when you get home, my treat.” Dumbfounded and completely enamored by my statement, my partner simply nodded through an intense crimson that had crept onto their entire face before closing the front door.

[bouncykhotchillipeppers]

Welcome to a special astrological chart reading for Yunho since it’s his birthday.

✦ Disclaimer I do not know him personally, no harm intended, others may interpret differently. I’ve been studying astrology for six years, and I take this seriously and try my best. Feel free to ask any questions you have! This is not a full chart reading, just a couple of interesting things for his birthday.

✦ Sun conjunct Jupiter in Aries (Fifth House) Sun and Jupiter love to be here, as it’s the house associated with creativity, talent, and activity. It’s what makes us feel alive. Definitely the type of person who thrives on performance and needs somewhere to channel all of that energy. It’s part of his purpose. Very playful but still a hard worker and likes to try a little bit of everything just to become better at it. Competitive. Optimistic yet realistic. Why keep doing something one way when you could do it better? He has a lot of faith that things will go well, and even if they don’t, he’ll just brush it off, learn his lesson, and move on; he takes a philosophical approach to his failures.

✦ Moon in Gemini (Eighth House) He’s sort of everywhere all at once, that Sun in 5H combined with the Gemini Moon makes him so willing to try new things just for fun. Why not? This emphasizes that playful energy, the need for banter. He’s probably good at hiding how he feels, though all emotions and thoughts will eventually surface whether he wants them to or not (as with all 8H placements), so best to be direct and honest with those (even if being direct is not his strong suit). Mimicking others comes easily to him for sure. Hm, he probably does remember that thing someone did twelve years ago that everyone else forgot about… Forgive? Sure. Forget? Never.

✦ Mars Rx in Scorpio (Twelfth House) This placement idealizes strength. People who have Mars in 12H or Mars-Neptune contacts tend to be the type who don’t complain about their problems, or if they do, it’s with the caveat that it does not make them weak. ’Tis but a scratch. Great placement for anyone involved in physical activities such as sports. Charismatic and compassionate. The retrograde is interesting because that directs a lot of the energy inward… He’s not necessarily a pushover by any means, but he is cool with just going with the flow and seeing where that takes him—but it has to be his choice. That Pluto in 1H needs control and mastery over the self. Mars in 12H tends to be fairly passive-aggressive and indirect… “I won’t do this myself, but I will help you do this.” Not a leader nor a follower but a secret third thing.

Mars square Uranus in Aquarius, he’s decisive and willful, action-oriented. He’s not the type to laze around waiting for an answer when he could easily find it out for himself. Yes, there are a lot of contradictions… Adds flavor.

Mars semisquare Pluto is interesting because it’s very much an aspect associated with extreme endurance or survival, good for (surprise!) dancers. His tolerance level is crazy high, both physically and mentally. I wouldn’t say he’s patient by any means, but it would take a lot to reach his limit.

✦ Venus-Mars-Neptune T-Square I would associate this aspect with the Prince Charming type—the ideal man, both in how others view him and what he seeks in others. Venus-Mars contacts are often found in dancers (beauty and action). More charm, more creativity. He needs to do something worthy to give to others.

✦ Pluto in Sagittarius (First House) This, along with Mars, is his chart ruler and the most important planet in his chart after the Sun and the Moon. He’s really an all or nothing type of guy, willing to push past usual boundaries in order to create a new side of himself. Very dedicated to whatever he devotes himself to. He finds the release of this pent up energy and power within himself through creative outlets (fifth house) that he gets to share with others (Jupiter).

✦ Final thoughts Overall, his chart reflects his person: playful and energetic with an intense passion. Such a nice balance because when there’s something too idealistic in his brain, he has another planet to bring him back to reality…

He’s really born to be a performer. I expected nothing less. I do think he’s fairly self-critical more than critical of others, and I hope he knows that we love his dedication and appreciate his hard work.

Thank you for reading! You can check out my other chart readings on my blog or on Twitter.

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you, chapter 10

Summary: it's Will's birthday, and everyone gathers at his place for a nice Sunday barbecue. You choose a particular -sensible- outfit, and some decisions are made in the heat of the moment.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: it occurred to me recently (thank you Fanna) that some of you had subscribed to the taglist without my knowledge... I'm an unworthy idiot and thought I'd get a notif of some sort, so I never thought to check the form out. I'm very sorry. I'm insanely grateful to anyone who interacts with this story. I will never tire of thanking you.

Word Count: 7.1k (I'm very sorry, I don't know what happened, I'm blaming the Millers on this one)

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Chapter 10: The Deal

(👆🏻 as per usual, from @nicolethered 's treasure trove)

-

Catfish, noun [C] (FISH) : a fish with a flat head and long hairs around its mouth that lives in rivers or lakes.

Catfish, noun [C] (FAKE), informal: someone who pretends on social media to be someone different, in order to trick or attract other people.

Padding out of the steamy bathroom into the adjacent bedroom, you press the home screen button to close the Cambridge Dictionary app and tap open your Larousse translator.

Catfish [‘kætfiʃ] (pl catfish or catfishes), noun : poisson-chat.

None of it makes any sense to you, not in any language you know. Perhaps you should try Spanish? Putain de merde.

Benny’s resounding voice echoes from the living-room, the velvety tones brushing against your naked skin. He’s strumming his guitar to a song you recognise as Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Fortunate Son. The hand holding your phone lowers slowly, your tense shoulders dropping in slow motion as you listen.

Ben’s voice is what you like best about him. It’s the very first thing you noticed, in the hardware store aisle, and also the first that charmed you after your first couple of dates. It trickles down your spine like honey, keeps your inside warm and your mind snug, and when he sings… well, when he sings, on a normal day, it’s plenty enough to turn you on like an electrical wire, and he never gets to play very long when you’re staying at his place.

Only nothing’s normal anymore.

You stood up Rosie at the last minute on Tuesday, unable to face her in the wake of this new reality, instead showing up at work on your day off without an explanation and unilaterally deciding to undertake a thorough inventory of the bookstore. Your boss, Suzanne, was pleasantly surprised, and if something seemed off to her, she didn’t say.

When Benny told you he would see the guys again on Friday night, you attempted to talk him out of it, as subtly as you could despite your nervousness, feeling as though he could see right through you. Which he didn’t.

After closing up that evening, you walked straight to your usual deli, just around the block corner from the bookstore, where the cashier is a Moroccan grandpa with whom you chat in French, much to your delight, and who calls you “cousine”, and bought your first pack of smokes since college.

Back at your apartment, you smoked all 20 cigarettes sitting by the windowsill of your living-room, waiting for a text or a phone call from Benny that never came. He’s not in the habit of texting nor calling you, on Friday nights. He has taught himself to respect your chosen moments of aloneness, with a childlike willingness, eager to please you.

What were you so nervous about, anyway? How likely is it that Frankie would walk up to his friend to tell him, “Hey, I fucked your girlfriend fifteen years ago, and she let me do things to her that she has denied you repeatedly. Want another beer?”

Your manic brain won’t let go about it, however, no matter how sternly you reason with yourself, no matter what logic you employ. Would that eventuality be so far-fetched? You don’t know what these men share. You know nothing of the strength and nature of their bond. Only that they’re like brothers. You’re foreign to that. You’re an outsider. How can you be sure that Benny wouldn’t cut you loose without a second look if his friend told him about what happened between you? Besides, if Catfish looked at you with such unabated anger, he might very well consider it his brotherly duty to warn his friend. “She’s a liar. She’ll never call you.”

The worst being that you can’t make up your mind about what would hurt most. Benny’s abandon. Or Frankie’s betrayal.

If only you knew what the fuck “Catfish” means. If you had this one clue, you might get an understanding of the man he has become. Or so you think.

You put down your phone and retrieve a cotton t-shirt from your travel bag, laying it flat on the bed next to your jeans, smoothing over the fabric with a frown. You brought another choice of outfit, more suitable to attend a birthday party, a cute little white cotton short-sleeves button-up with a red lining around the collar, a yellow one along the button placket and a dark green one on the breast pocket.

Picking up your phone again, you briefly consider running a Google image search, for the hundredth time or so, but instead angrily toss it on the bed, where it bounces off and ends up on the wooden floor with an ominous noise.

“Et merde!”

“Ooooh she’s naked!” Benny appears on the bedroom threshold, dirty blue jeans and shabby Kiss T-shirt, his massive silhouette dwarfing the doorway.

“Sorry, I’m dressing up, I’ll be ready in a minute,” you quickly shuffle back to the bag and crouch down, rummaging through it in search of your underwear. Benny offered weeks, no, months ago, to clear a drawer for you. And a shelf in his wardrobe. You’ve really mastered the art of deflecting, if anything else.

“That’s not what I meant,” he croons, joining you in two long strides, tugging at your arm until you stand up and face him.

“Stop it, we’re bringing the drinks, we can’t be late,” you tilt your head up with a raised eyebrow, your frustration visible.

“I do not care… Come on, I’ll be quick,” he promises with a cocky smile, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Oh, you’ll be quick? What about me?” you exclaim in mock offence.

It systematically takes you by surprise, every single time, the ease with which this man manages to lift up your mood. No matter how reluctant you are, he just drags the joy out of you.

“I can get you off fast. Three minutes—”

“Three minutes?!” you cry indignantly.

“I like a challenge, come on,” he chuckles, splaying his large hands across your cheeks, drifting toward the cleft of your ass as you try to wiggle out of his embrace.

“Benjamin, it’s late, stop it,” you giggle, but the drag of his lips along the line of your neck is making you weak in the knees already, a small heat flaring up in your belly.

His voice drops another octave and your entire body shudders against his rumbling chest, “Three minutes. Bend over the bed, baby.”

—

Three minutes turned out to be twenty, after what you had to take another shower, and now you’re definitely running late. You’re not cross, however, if anything you feel more relaxed than you have since the beginning of the week. More than quick, he’s been rough, pounding you ruthlessly into the mattress from behind while you frantically rubbed your clit, and perhaps it was just what you needed to straighten your head. To remind yourself that you’re precisely where -and with whom- you’re supposed to be. Because you are. Right?

As you apply mascara in the bathroom, Benny calls in from the living-room, announcing he’s going to start the car. You acknowledge the information for what it means: that gives you five extra minutes, it being the amount of time he likes to run the engine for, before pulling the Mustang out of the garage.

You briskly walk into the bedroom and slip into your sensible underwear and your jeans. The t-shirt you pulled out of your bag earlier slipped on the floor while Benny was fucking you, and you pick it up without looking at it, shoving it back unceremoniously inside the bag. You make a face at the rumpled cotton as you pull out your blouse and lay it on the mattress. As you vainly repeat your earlier motion, trying to smooth the shirt under your palm, you decide that you’re going to ask Benny again about the shelf and drawer, after all, nodding to yourself.

You put on the blouse and start buttoning it up, circling the bed to retrieve your phone from the corner of the room where it fell earlier, and as you pick up the device, the screen unlocks and lights up.

Catfish [‘kætfiʃ] (pl catfish or catfishes), noun : poisson-chat.

You pause for the briefest moment, clenching your jaw and about to rub your eyelids before remembering you’ve got makeup on. Sliding the phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you hurry back to your bag and choose the yellow t-shirt for the second time today.

—

Will is getting a grill for his birthday. An insanely expensive beast of a machine with more knobs than a sci-fi villain’s aircraft. Something he has no use for, since he’s had the same simple, basic charcoal grill since he moved in alone after splitting from Jean. Something Frankie’s dead sure he won’t even like. Pope and Redfly’s idea.

He tried objecting, but he’s no match for the two of them together, and Benny, typically, sided with the two men. So everyone chipped in, Yovanna and you included, he was informed, and Frankie was handed the money in cash and asked to take care of everything, from buying the damn thing, to storing it in his garage and bringing it over to Will’s house on Sunday morning. Everyone else too busy with their respective jobs, kids, girlfriends. He’s the one with the suspension and the big truck parked outside all year round. He’s the one with the empty garage and the empty bed.

When Will opens his front door, bare-chest and his hair still wet, Frankie gives him an eloquent glance from under the brim of his cap, as he moves to the side of the doorway to let his friend see what is hauled up at the back of the red truck.

“Fuck, man, you kidding me?” Will exclaims in his slow drawl. “Why did you let them do that?”

“I tried, brother, I tried. Happy birthday, anyway,” Frankie pats him on the shoulder before walking back to his truck to unload the monster with the help of a trolley.

It takes the two of them to carry it across the soft soil of the backyard, on which the trolley refuses to budge, and position it against the fence at the rear of the garden.

Yovanna and Pope come in soon after with the meats and side dishes, Pope’s winning argument to convince Will to throw a party being that he wouldn’t have to do a thing. While they help set everything on the large picnic table, Frankie starts the grill.

He had flipped through the thick manual the night before, shaking his head and occasionally chuckling at the convoluted instructions. He’d be damned if Will was going to use this thing once, and when he asked his friend whether he wanted him to take away the old grill, Will shot him a “don’t you dare” glance that got him wheezing.

Redfly arrives next with his two daughters, Tess, the eldest, looking like she’d rather stick a fork in her leg than be here with a bunch of old men, her headphones riveted to her head. Frankie notices for the first time, with a pang of sadness, how much she resembles her father, her defeated look reflected on his friend’s face.

The doorbell keeps ringing for a while, more guests pouring into the small backyard, arms full of drinks and food, and gathering around the table. First, the couple from across the street and their two toddlers, and Frankie inquires if they want the kids to eat first, the exhausted father gratefully agreeing to the suggestion. Then the next door neighbour, a cute redhead of indiscernible age named Clare who, Frankie observes, melts on her chair every time Will addresses her, and finally two of Will’s coworkers from the VA.

The table is quickly buried under heaps of food, egg salad, bowls of chips, biscuits and corn on the cob, three different salads, bags of buns and a large plate of homemade arepas brought by Yovanna… So Will neighbour’s suggests to lend him two plastic folding tables to accommodate everyone, that they install after retrieving them from his garage.

Pope plays some music through his Bluetooth speaker and everyone starts loosening up, happily chatting against the sizzling noises of grilling meat.

At which point, Frankie gets fidgety, his carefully crafted composure eroding slowly.

It’s not out of character for Benny to be late, quite the contrary. Even though he’s been tasked with providing the refreshments.

Only, he knows you too will be here. And he came prepared, deciding early on that this day would be a run test for future interactions. Specifically, is he capable of entertaining a polite and distant relationship with you, without feeling like his blood had been turned into lava. Without the need to take the anger out on himself afterward. Without wanting more than just that.

Judging from his increasingly shaky hand clasped around the fancy grill’s spatula, he might have to skip the next couple of happy family gatherings.

—

Will’s house is smaller than his brother’s, although it counts one more room. But being considerably tidier, you’ve always thought it to be much larger.

The front door opens directly into a wide but shallow room, arbitrarily divided into a living-room on the right and a dining area on the left. Beyond this first room, a corridor serves a bathroom and a kitchen to the left, and two small bedrooms to the right, and leads to the well-kept backyard, closed off by a neatly lined white fence.

You’ve been here once or twice before, but when you hang out with the Miller brothers, it’s usually at Ben’s place, or in a downtown bar. It’s not that Will’s house is uncomfortable, the couch is brand new, the fridge well stocked, the TV set modern. But everything about it is spartan, bordering impersonal.

Today, as Will greets you with one of his heartfelt, marked embrace, you can’t help but ponder one more time the contrast between the austere interior and what you know to be the man’s rich, limitless inner world.

“You’re late,” he shoots gruffly at his baby brother.

Ben shrugs carelessly and retorts, “It’s her fault,” tilting his head toward you, before making a beeline to the backyard, carrying a giant beer keg and a cooler filled with beverages with the same ease as if they were fluffy pillows.

Will throws you a skeptical glance and you answer silently with a shake of your head.

“Happy birthday, Will,” you say with a soft smile, and as he moves to follow Ben into the garden, you hold him back, tugging at his plaid shirt. “I’ve got something for you.”

“You mean you weren’t in on the present?” he asks as if it makes more sense, returning your smile.

“Oh no, I am, I wasn’t given a choice, but I got you something else.”

For some reason, you don’t feel comfortable handing him the rectangular, carefully wrapped package you extract from your tote bag in front of everyone, and he senses your hesitancy. He gives you a short nod and you follow him in silence towards the corridor. Somehow, his massive frame looks even more impressive as you walk sheepishly behind him, tall figure, wide shoulders, strong arms. You know him to be slightly smaller in height than his younger brother, but he’s all quiet strength and raw power. You wonder for a brief moment what it must feel like to be facing a man like him in battle, to find yourself on the wrong side of William Ironhead Miller.

He opens the door to the spare bedroom, where you’ve never been before, and before you have the time to withhold it, a faint gasp escapes you.

It’s an office, of sorts, and a cluttered one, with a desk positioned under the single window, covered in notebooks and scattered notes written on loose sheets, an old sofa bed, foam coming out of the thread-bare armrests, and so many bookshelves it looks as though they’re holding the ceilings, the walls barely visible. Rows of non-fiction, philosophical essays, geography textbooks and some exhibition catalogs, several framed military decorations, and framed photos. Dozens of photos.

You’re standing inside William’s brain.

You gape at him in bewilderment, your eyes asking a silent question, to which he replies, “It’s ok, you can take a look,” a knowing smile on his face, and you dart toward the nearest shelf without hesitation.

The picture of the two of them next to the golden retriever is the first one that holds your attention, but there are many more family portraits, some of them with a couple you easily identify as their parents, the boys bearing a striking resemblance to them, and one with a toddler, a girl, holding a very young William’s hand. Everything’s there, a colourful and assorted retrospective of their entire childhood: picnics, mountain hikes, birthdays, first bikes, fishing trips to the lake, graduations… Ben and Will at a variety of stages of their military carriers, lined up in chronological order, as far as you can tell, and because your mind so often works in the same ways as your friend’s.

A growing lump invades your throat, and you begin to blink wildly. You stand here, motionless, numb, unable to pull away from the images, fully aware of the privilege he’s granting you, admitting you into this sanctuary, tucked away from everyone else’s prying gaze.

And then you see it. A group picture of the five of them, siting around a camp fire in front of a large camouflage tent, in what looks like a Middle Eastern scenery. Pope, Redfly, Ironhead, Benny, and Catfish. All of them looking considerably younger. All of them grinning widely. Your heart sinks at the sight of his dimple. How old can he be? Thirty, thirty-five, you assume, his hair short, a soft caramel brown, his face clean-shaven, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes shallow, still, but the crease between his brows deep, already.

You missed out on so much of him. You missed everything.

It takes all of your willpower to turn away and hand Will the package, without a word, not trusting your voice to be steady enough to speak.

He doesn’t tear the wrapping, instead tugging the adhesive open, until the busy book cover is revealed. It’s an exhibition catalog, Bauhaus 1919-1933: Workshops in Modernity, held at the MoMa in 2010, long before you met each other. The first time the two of you visited the museum together, you swung by the bookstore, and you observed him discreetly as he flipped through the catalog’s pages with covetous eyes, eventually replacing it on its pile, with evident regret. It took you a while, several weeks of getting to know him better, before you could understand why. Priced at $75, the book was an unaffordable luxury to him.

You see the surprise play across his handsome features, and you can tell the exact moment when he registers, the memory resurfacing, that milestone in your friendship, the fact that you remembered. You see this solid, pragmatic man, rarely surprised, always prepared, clearly shaken; and as you finally stir to leave the room, wanting to allow him the space you know he needs, he pulls you into his arms, hugging you so tightly it hurts, and he whispers, “Thanks, sister.”

—

“Alright, who wants some alcohol?” Ben shouts into the backyard, his question greeted by a collective and cheerful holler.

Frankie’s knuckles crack in his grip of the cooking utensil, and he has to make a conscious effort to stop gritting his teeth. Ok, he got this, he reminds himself. If he made it through Monday night, he can make it through Sunday afternoon. He turns around to face the house, and his front collides with Ben’s chest, who pats his back with a resounding grunt. You’re nowhere in sight.

“Hey man, wanna beer?” Ben asks brightly.

One of them had a good morning, at least.

“Yea, is it fresh?” Frankie’s voice comes out a bit tense, but he can work on it, he knows he can.

“It sure is,” Ben answers, cracking a can open and handing it to his friend.

Frankie takes a swig of the cool beverage and feels it flowing down his burning throat, scanning the door to the house. You’re still nowhere to be seen.

“You’re alone?” he asks, and immediately winces.

Off to a great start.

“Nah, she’s in there with Will, scheming.”

Ben tries to pick up a wiener from the grill and burns his fingers, swearing under his breath and mumbling something about the size of the machine. Something that Frankie doesn’t hear. His ears are filled with the frenetic thumping of his blood, even though his heart has stopped beating.

Will’s bulky silhouette appeared in the doorway, and as he stepped into the garden, you materialised behind him, pausing there for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the midday light. You’re wearing these jeans again, the ones that are way too tight on your hips, they’re Benny’s favourite, but Frankie doesn’t know that, and it’s not what he sees. What he sees is your t-shirt. A pale shade of yellow, and the print of a book cover. A black cat in a white bow tie, holding a gun in its clawed paw, winking straight at him, and the title in red, bold letters, etched over your breasts, that spell:

The Master and Margarita.

—

You find yourself behind Will again, walking down the narrow hallway to the backyard, but you have to stop on the threshold, blinded by the sudden daylight. It’s early in April, and you recall a Gainsbourg song about April inspiring love. There’s a stereo playing Jefferson Airplane and the smell of grilled meat fills the air. When your eyes adjust to the luminosity, you’re slightly taken aback. You didn’t expect that big of a crowd, and anxiety immediately kicks in at the thought of having to meet new people and make small talk. Something catches your eyes on your right, Yovanna is waving at you, standing next to Pope.

You smile back, relieved, about to step in and join her, when you see him.

A blue and brown plaid shirt pulled taut over his broad frame, the top two, no, three buttons undone, the dip of his collarbones exposed, rolled up sleeves revealing his forearms, locks of hair curling around his ears and on his nape.

When your eyes lock, a faint, wistful smile tugs at the corner of his lips and oh god, you want to crawl under his skin and forever live there.

—

The guests are all seated, now, divided into groups around the three tables in the cramped backyard, except for the neighbours’ kids, who are running around under the playful supervision of Tom’s youngest, Sue.

You’re sitting between Will and Benny, across from Yovanna and Pope, but more often than not, Will’s up and around, refilling people’s glasses, making sure everyone has everything they need. You know him to be more comfortable in quiet settings, but he makes for a very charming host, nonetheless.

Grilling food and preparing the burgers take up most of Frankie’s time, who has yet to sit down and enjoy his own plate. You’ve never seen so much meat, and you don’t think you’ll be able to swallow any for the next two weeks at least.

When Frankie comes over to your table to ask what your party would like to eat, you notice for the first time that he addresses Yovanna almost exclusively in Spanish, whereas Pope and him mostly use English. He’d told you he was born in Argentina, but you’d never heard him use his mother tongue, and it’s invading all your senses. His voice sounds different, softer, rounder, less gruff around the edges.

You won’t let it carry you back to the orange bedroom, not here, not like that, not with your boyfriend’s hand resting on your lap, his thumb rubbing your inner thigh. If you could just effectively control your goddamn breathing every time he lifts that cap and combs through his hair…

“What about you?” his husky voice jolts you out of your reverie. He’s looking straight at you, hands propped on his hips, “What do you want?”

You stare at him blankly, dumbstruck, an instantaneous acceleration in the rhythm of your heartbeat as you feel crimson creeping up your neck and cheeks. Will’s steely gaze is on you as you shift nervously on your hard plastic seat.

Meat. He’s asking about the meat.

“Burger. Rare. Please,” you answer without thinking, before adding hastily, “Wait! Can I have some extra cheese? Please?”

Pope bursts out laughing and Yovanna shoves her elbow in his ribs. A slow, devastating smile appears on Frankie’s face, so broad, so spontaneous, so sincere, all dimple and teeth, and for the first time in this life you’re facing your Frankie, despite the deep creases at the corner of his eyes, despite the cap hiding away his curls, despite the whiskered cheeks stranded with grey, and it’s more, much more than you can stand, you have to lower your eyes onto your egg salad.

The rest of the meal is a game of avoidance, played knowingly and with unexpected skill by the two of you. Every once in a while, you throw each other sideways glances, facing away mere milliseconds before your eyes can actually meet, holding your stare until the last possible moment. But for the most part, you concentrate on Yovanna, exchanging ideas on topics as diverse as politics or cinema, making plans for a girl’s night out with Rosie and some of her friends.

Frankie cooked the food you’re eating right now. You try not to linger on the thought. And he gave you extra cheese, alright, your burger disintegrating in your hands, nearly impossible to handle with the amount he managed to melt on top of the patty.

He loves the way you eat, grabbing the burger with both hands and unceremoniously pushing it into your mouth until you realise there are people around who might be watching.

Memories are resurfacing now, flowing into the gaping abyss vacated by his receding anger, flooding his brain, and his senses.

And if he can’t recall what the two of you ate during the single meal you shared over the course of the weekend, he remembers your voracity. To this day, you remain his best kiss. Like that first one on the balcony, no, not a balcony, a fire escape, when he hung on for dear life to your hips with a bruising grip as you pulled him in, a minute ago shy and self-conscious, all he had to do was show you the attraction was reciprocal.

And that other kiss you gave him after that meal, only it hadn’t been on his lips.

It was already Sunday, in the early afternoon, when you too had first thought of eating. You were together on that bed where you spent most of the weekend. Lying on his back, eyes closed and a smile dancing on his lips, he was focused on the sensation of the tip of your fingers tracing patterns along his torso.

Your stomach let out a very loud, very angry growl. Your eyebrows shot up and you rolled onto your side to cover your face in embarrassment, both of you bursting into a laughing fit. He wrestled you for a bit, trying to pull your arms away from your face, and he finally carried you out of bed. He couldn’t understand why he found the idea of feeding you so satisfactory, even then, as he still does today.

You slipped on his plaid shirt, the act so natural and familiar, you looked so fucking lovely. He felt a pang of possessiveness, a foreign feeling to him, one he’d never experienced until then. You followed him into the kitchen where you ate together in content silence, exchanging cheerful looks, like two happy puppies.

After eating, however, the atmosphere shifted. He felt your gaze on his bare skin and when he looked up, your hooded eyes told him everything he needed to know. You got up slowly, purposefully, and slowly, purposefully took off his shirt, draping it neatly over the back of the Formica chair. Fuck, he loved your tits, so damn much.

He found himself unable to move, mesmerised by your demeanour, confident and full of intent. It was new, and it was something else. You were not quite the same girl anymore, and he wasn’t sure if “girl” was still the fitting term.

Closing the distance between you in one stride, you kneeled in front of him, gently parting his legs with your hands, and you moved closer, holding his gaze. He felt dumbstruck, at your mercy, like he had when you first backed him against that same kitchen chair two nights ago, and he licked his bottom lips in a futile attempt to snap out of it.

You lowered your eyes to the growing bulge in his black briefs and his cock twitched. With parted lips, you leaned in to kiss him through the warm fabric, eyes closed in rapture under your raised brow. Softly, you nuzzled your cheek against the cottony material, and inhaled. He froze, eyes locked on you, his chest heaving, his mouth gone slack. You rested your cheek on the inside of his thigh for a short while.

Then, flicking your eyes open, you started quietly, “I really want to–” and paused, and it occurred to him you might not even know how to say it in English.

“You don’t have to, if you’re–”, he trailed off, hardly recognising his own breathy, shaky voice. What the fuck was he talking about? He might die if you stopped now.

“Please? Please let me. It’s just that… I know I’m not too good at it.”

He was already fully erect when you took him out of his briefs, hard and heavy, and when you hesitantly bit your bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut. He felt the curled up tip of your tongue collecting the bead of precome from the head of his cock, heard your satisfied exhale, felt your cold mouth enveloping him -cereal, he remembers it now, you had cold milk with cereal-, felt the contrast of your warm hand wrapping around his base.

If you were fairly inexperienced, your eagerness more than made up for it, and he let out a muffled curse when you began licking up broad stripes, before dipping as far down on him as you could.

He wanted to bury his hands in your hair and thrust deeply into your mouth, fill you entirely, the thought of fucking your throat threatening to tip him over too soon, but a part of his brain somehow still functioning remained in control; instead he gripped the sides of his seat until his knuckles turned white.

Your mouth closed around him, you settled in a steady rhythm, tongue swirling around his fat tip, hand stroking up and down with a maddening twist of your wrist, but you were far too gentle. With his cock still in your mouth, your eyes flicked up to his with a question, to which he gave a short, rapid nod, yes, yes, do whatever the fuck you want with me and you withdrew your lips with a popping sound, your timid smile in complete contradiction with the filth of your actions, before spitting tenderly on the head of his cock.

You were going to be the death of him.

Spreading your spit down his length, you stroked harder, wrapping your lips around him again, this time sucking firmly up and down with hollowed cheeks. He saw you squirming, pressing your thighs together, he heard your moans, you were enjoying this. That realisation, combined with your ministrations, was overwhelming.

His hips locked into place, the muscles in his belly strained, his balls drew tighter, he was too fucking close; he reached for the soft hair on your nape and tried pulling you back before it was too late, but you resisted, sucking harder, looking at him from under your eyelashes with an expression that mirrored his when you had straddled him on that same chair. “Do it, use me.”

He came at once. His head rolled back, an obscene grunt echoing in the room, heavy ropes of spend hitting the back of your throat that you bravely tried to swallow, flooding past your closed lips and dribbling down your chin. You kept suckling him delicately through it and when he came around after a minute, or five, or ten, he noticed he was still holding your hair.

You looked dazed, dazed and pleased with yourself, holding him in your right hand, sitting back on your heels like a proud student waiting to be graded, and he laughed breathlessly.

He’s hoping now, looking at you as you wipe your chin clean of the dripping sauce from the burger he cooked especially for you, that he told you then how well you did for him. More women than he’d care to count have sucked his dick ever since, some of them professionals, none made him feel the way you did. All he can remember is that he had been eager to get you cleaned up.

And what happened then in the bathroom had been the beginning of the end for him.

—

When the neighbours bring their kids back home for nap time, the place becomes considerably quieter. Tom takes his leave shortly after, having to drive his daughters back to his ex-wife, and you’re slightly alarmed that his friends are letting him take the wheel, considering how much alcohol he’s had. Then it’s Will’s colleagues’ turn to go. There’s a pleasant, sated lull in the conversations, as the remaining guests stretch their limbs in the afternoon sun.

When Frankie joins your table, Benny sits up as if remembering something.

“Hey baby, I’ve been thinking,’ he starts, looking at you both, “Fish could help you with the car. He used to be a mechanic, right Fish?”

All the food you’ve ingested makes your body slow and heavy, but you think you could start shaking with the way Frankie’s eyes flick up to you, alight with an alarming gleam.

The car. Benny’s big project, getting you out of public transportation. You didn’t need one in Paris and you haven’t bought one here yet, you like the bus rides, you can read and listen to music and daydream. A real luxury. And you’re more than fine with Benny driving you around in the Mustang.

“We’ve talked about this, Ben, I’m not comfortable driving, here,” you remind him tentatively.

Frankie leans back in his chair, arms crossed on his broad chest, and you avoid the sight of his lean muscles rippling underneath the tanned skin of his forearms.

“Look, I don’t like you riding them buses alone at night. She won’t even take a cab,” he adds for his friend’s benefit. “Fish knows a lot about cars and engines and shit, he could help you choose a good one. I think that’s a good idea, that’s all I’m saying.”

Nothing about this is a good idea.

“Cheers, but I’m a big girl from a big city,” you answer with a hint of aggressiveness. “I mean I’m fine,” you try again, softer, “and I’m used to driving a stick, I would want a manual gear, anyway.”

A manual gear. Nice touch, very European, that was convincing.

“Yea I can help you with that, too,” Frankie lifts his head and you get a better view of his face under the brim of the cap, but you’ll be damned if you can decipher his expression.

This whole situation is throwing you off-balance, you can’t process what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it, not in the least, what do you want, what does he want, what is he playing at?

He wants you safe. He wants you off the buses at night, is what he wants. Nothing else. Nothing more. Aside perhaps from the opportunity to ask you one question.

Clare provides you with a much welcome way out when she joins the discussion.

“I’ve been to Paris, like fifteen years ago? I loved it! What neighbourhood are you from, exactly?”

The topic seems forgotten and you carry out the conversation for as long as you can before excusing yourself and stepping inside for a glass of water. Talking about your hometown has cooled down your nerves, but you still need a moment to yourself.

Will’s kitchen is cleaner than an operating room. It’s disconcerting, and you wonder if he ever eats in. The hob is pristine, so is the oven, and you hardly resist the urge to open the fridge just to have a peek, refraining out of respect for your friend.

The first cabinet you open contains different sorts of coffee, teas and herbal infusions, canned soups and chocolate, something you didn’t expect. You find the glasses behind the second door you open, but your hand freezes on the handle as you hear someone coming into the kitchen behind you.

It’s him. The understanding instinctual. You recognize his gait, measured, calm, assertive, and before you can decide how to react, you’re surrounded by the scent of him. You were right, of course you were right, you do remember it vividly, only now it’s more potent, and it’s so close, too close, it’s there, you feel dizzy, he’s drawing nearer and you brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come.

He stops half an inch short of your back, and it’s as if your very skin is reaching out for him.

He leans over you, his mouth to your ear, the thin hair on your nape standing, and his breath fans over your throat when he whispers, “Let me get that car with you.” It’s not a request. It’s not a question.

You feel the heat rolling off of him once it’s no longer there. You stand alone in the empty kitchen, eyes clenched, cold and perfectly still, your hand gripped onto the cabinet handle.

It’s a moment before you can walk out of the kitchen on shaky legs. You’re going to do this. You are really going to do this. You can’t pause to think.

You get to the garden and the sun blinds you, they’re all staring in your direction, if only in your head. You go back to your seat next to Benny and you put on a broad smile, willing your voice to sound perfectly casual.

“Ok you win. I’ll get that car. But a small one.”

Oh god he looks so fucking happy, like a child, and he kisses you deep, you hate yourself already when you notice Frankie’s watching, he hasn’t missed a thing. You recognise the sadness in his eyes, it’s the same that’s pinching your heart.

Everything happens too fast afterwards. Benny signals him to come over, and you exchange phone numbers, an ordinary social interaction that is anything but. The irony of the situation drops like an anvil in your stomach and you fear for a moment that you’re going to be sick. Neither Frankie nor you can look at each other as you tap the digits on the screens.

Your entire body shudders at the sound of Benny’s voice.

“Alright, then, Fish, I guess she’ll give you a call!”

—

Why you didn’t call is all he needs to know. He’ll back off once he knows. And he can’t stand the thought of you travelling by bus, alone at night. Two birds, one stone.

He didn’t recognise your scent. Standing so close to you in that clinically clean kitchen, he breathed in your hair, your neck, and it was intoxicating, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Not that he can remember your old scent. He’s forgotten about that, along with your taste, a long time ago, he just knows it’s not it. New shampoo, new perfume, maybe. New boyfriend.

The only thing he remembers after all these years, apart from your eyes and your face, is your skin. The feel of it under the pads of his fingers, under the palm of his hand, under his tongue, between his lips. How it shivered under his touch. The way it caught at his calloused digits. And your cool back against his burning chest. And your breasts, and your own hands as you ceaselessly caressed him.

Is it better to remember?

Around three years ago, he met a girl from Mexico, much younger than him, dark and beautiful, and she made him feel good for a while, he liked the sensation of her soft body underneath his, and he thought he might be in love until he realised it was nothing but a reminiscence of you. Of your skin. Over and over and over again. Always you. Only you. A life spent seeking you through all these stranger, distant bodies.

He got so close to your skin, earlier. He knows that’s how close he’s ever going to get, now. Benny’s never been this happy. Benny’s in love, it’s all over his face, on display for everyone else to see.

But it’s real. He’s got that. Everything that happened between you and him, has been real. That’s what you gave him, today, you clever, clever girl. He can be content with that, he thinks. If only…

If only he didn’t feel your skin reaching out for him.

—

In the orange bedroom, he’d fallen asleep first and you had fought through your own tiredness to stay awake just a little while longer. Looking at him, committing to memory all his singular details. The size of his hands, the shape of his nails, the colour of his eyelashes, the tattoo behind his ear and the one on his thumb, the curve of his nose, the line of his neck, the pattern of his freckles, the dip between his collarbones, the ones over his hips, the flawless shape of his length, the build of his thighs, the sharpness of his jawline, the breadth of his shoulders, the curls of his hair…

You couldn’t ever be satisfied but you didn’t want to disturb his slumber, so you got up for a glass of water and got reminded of the books piled up by the chair.

Kneeling down on the floor, you looked through a first column of physics and algebra textbooks. A few others, smaller, with eye-catching covers, were fiction. Mostly second-hand, judging by the yellowed paper. Some were in Spanish, from authors unknown to you yet, but some you knew and loved, Hemingway, O'Connor, Remarque, Capote… You picked up a beaten copy of Franny and Zooey, inhaling the old paper scent, and flipped through the pages. Here, some sentences were underlined, there, entire paragraphs. His bold handwriting sprawled in all caps in the margin, his thoughts laid down in ink, something you would never dare do.

You put down the book, resuming your browsing, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking for, only that you would know when you’d find it, and oh! there.

You held the book with both hands and murmured the title like one does a binding spell.

“Le Maître et Marguerite”

****

Taglist (Thank you 💕): @nicolethered @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8

[silverhallow]

I had an idea I want to share with you.

What if Benedict gives Sophie a birthday crown? She probably had no one even remember her birthday other than the servants who raised her.

Could you imagine if Violet or Lady Danbury discovers the gift?

I think it would be a sign to either of them how serious their relationship had become but also bittersweet for both. Both don't have the person they want to make crowns for.

I don't think either would fully object but realize that they better start coming up with a back story or be worried about it all ending in heart break.

How do you think Benedict would decorate Sophie's crown?

Oh my god, Nonnie, I love this idea so much.

It’s my Headcanon that Sophie’s birthday is actually after they get together and Benedict spends ages trying to find out when it is because she won’t actually tell him.

I know I normally go with a March or June birthday for Sophie but I actually think canon Sophie is likely to be a Scorpio so between 23rd October and 24th November because Scorpios are loyal, smart, shrewd and stoic. They stand by their beliefs, and they don’t crave anyone else’s approval and are strong, enigmatic, independent characters who crackle with an intensity and charisma that makes them un-ignorable. For all of that power though, they often remain un-knowable to others, because they guard themselves and their private lives fiercely.. Which basically sums up our Queen…

So… back to your question…

I feel Sophie never celebrated her birthday really, sure her father used to give her a gift but all she wanted was his attention and it was usually given to her via the servants as he kept his distance from her.

When Araminta came into the picture Sophie never even saw the gift as Rosamund would have it away immediately promising to deliver it herself to Sophie… and just keeping it.

So by the time she’s a Bridgerton, she’s had 20 something years of not really celebrating her birthday so she doesn’t see why she should change the habit of a lifetime.

But her husband is determined to find out and make the day the best possible day ever, but she was keeping quiet, even Mrs Crabtree couldn’t find out.

Until one day a letter arrives for him at Bridgerton House, Anthony sends it on and Benedict is startled to find out its from a Mrs Gibbons, who was writing to Mr Bridgerton after finally finding time to write to him from underneath the watchful eye of her employer, and informs him that Sophie’s birthday is October 31st and that she had a particular fondness for Marzipan sweets.

Triumphant, Benedict decides that he and Sophie will head to London for her birthday, without letting on that he knows it is her birthday,

But he spends the time in his art studio carefully crafting Sophie’s birthday crown, determined for it to be perfect and hides it in his trunk with his things for when they get to London.

He told the family not to go overboard so as not to overwhelm her about everything but his surprise is ruined by little Neddy running forward the moment Benedict and Sophie arrive in London and at Bridgerton House and saying he’s excited for her birthday party.

Sophie looks at her husband in horror and shock as he just grins sheepishly at her as Kate and Anthony apologise profusely.

Benedict explains that it’s not a party but a family dinner and he knows that her birthday is 31st October as he got a letter and Sophie is shocked to find out that Mrs Gibbons reached out to him.

He promises that if she hates it then next year they will just spend the day in bed at their cottage, pretending it’s not passed but he wants to try just once, showing Sophie what a birthday should be like.

Sophie agrees to give it a go.

So on the morning of her birthday, she awakes and finds herself alone in bed and she’s very confused but no sooner had she gone to get out of bed, does Benedict come through the door with a heavily laden tray telling her to get back into bed.

She looks at him but does as she is told and settles herself back in, Benedict places the breakfast tray over her lap with all her favourite things and nestled a top of everything is a neatly decorated paper crown.

“It’s a family tradition, we make one every year on a birthday and the person’s who’s birthday it is wears it all day…” he explains as he shows her the silver, green and blue designs.

It was a bit of their story on top of the crown, the colours swirled together, little silver and blue baubles on it and Sophie had tears in her eyes as Benedict tied it around her head and for the first time ever she’s pleased it was her birthday.

At the dinner party that night, when she comes downstairs the family oo and aww’d at her crown as they gave her their gifts.

Lady Danbury who had been invited along beamed tearfully as she remembered her own crown and Violet smiling as she saw the love and adoration between her second son and his wife and just how happy Sophie was.

By the time all the gifts were given Sophie was a crying mess and she’s apologising to everyone because she doesn’t normally cry so much, only for Violet to nonchalantly say “it’s okay dear, I was the same on my birthday when I was pregnant…”

Only for Benedict to drop his glass, Sophie spluttered as she’d not even told Benedict yet and had planned to tell him that evening when they retired…

So Sophie's birthday turned into an extra big celebration and Sophie had to admit by the time the night was over, the Bridgerton’s really did know how to celebrate a birthday.

[nightskyfangirl]

Two Kids, Two Sides of the Island: Chapter 1

Summary: A series of times that Rafe Cameron and JJ Maybank, two kids from opposite sides of the island, found an unlikely ally in the other when they didn’t have anyone else. AKA I see a lot of similarities in these two and wanted to see them interact more, but as friends.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Also on Ao3. Link in comments

Story is below cut.

Rafe hated shopping. Usually Rose or Dad paid Hayward to bring the groceries out, but for whatever reason Dad had sent Rafe out with the credit card. Something about growing up and responsibilities. It was bull. He knew for a fact that Sarah would never be required do this. Rafe didn’t see the point. He wasn’t ever going to have to shop for his own groceries anyway. But he saw it for what it was. His dad was staying at the house today and this was an excuse to make sure Rafe wouldn’t be there at the same time.

Rafe looked down at the next item on the handwritten list. Bagels. Rose was on some weight loss kick and a magazine convinced her that bagels were the key. Rafe read the signs above the aisles, eventually finding the one with the breads.

As soon as he walked around the corner, he saw a Pogue kid he recognized from school. The kid was trying to stuff a loaf of bread in his too-small shirt. It looked stupid. The kid must have felt Rafe watching him because the kid looked up and locked eyes with Rafe.

Rafe grabbed a pack of bagels and moved on to the next aisle to grab the next thing from Rose’s list.

Eventually, Rafe had to grab a cart, but now he had all of the items and started towards the front. He did a double check on the list – he didn’t want to have to come back, and his dad would just use it as an excuse to point out another thing he screwed up. His dad would probably use it as an excuse to take the keys to the car his dad had bought Rafe for his 15th birthday last week.

Finding every item on the list in his shopping cart, Rafe walked towards the shortest line. The woman in front of him had a screaming baby on her hip and after only a few seconds, Rafe was starting to wonder if waiting behind her and listening to the wailing kid was even worth the shorter line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a jar of peanut butter rolling towards his foot. Rafe lifted the toe of his shoe, stopping the rolling jar.

“You know you gotta pay for that, right?” Shoupe asked, holding the pogue kid from the bread aisle by the arm. The pogue must have dropped the jar when Shoupe grabbed him.

“Dude, I was gonna pay—”

“Then what’s it shoved in your shirt for?” Shoupe took the hidden loaf of bread and dropped it on the floor too. “And I'm an officer. Don’t call me dude.”

The blonde glanced down at the bread before looking back at Shoupe. “It’s my stuff, I can carry it how I like.”

“Yeah, you and your dad have the worst alibies and excuses. He’s raising you to be just like him, isn’t he? Maybe I’ll give him a call and tell him his kid has been shoplifting again.”

“Shoupe, I—"

Rafe picked up the jar and started towards them. “Shoupe, what’s the problem?”

The pogue and Shoupe both looked up at Rafe surprised.

“Not your problem, Cameron.”

“Yeah, it is. You just dropped my bread on the floor.”

Shoupe frowned. “You with him?” Shoupe asked, looking at the Pogue. The blonde looked between Shoupe and Rafe, unsure how to answer.

Rafe answered instead, “Yes, he’s with me. And you’re holding us up.”

Shoupe let go and put his hands up, still watching the pogue with doubt before looking at Rafe. “My bad.”

“Yeah,” Rafe rolled his eyes, and walked back to his spot in line. Some older woman had jumped line in front of Rafe’s cart and Rafe briefly considered sharing words with her.

“I didn’t need your help, Kook.”

Rafe didn’t bother looking over his shoulder, he knew who it was. “Just put your crap up here so Shoupe doesn’t know I was lying my ass off.”

Grudgingly, a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter was placed on the convenience line.

“Seriously, why did you do that? I know who you are. You don’t help anyone but yourself.”

Rafe shrugged. “My Dad believes in charity.”

“I ain’t your charity case.” Even with Shoupe still watching them from a distance away, Rafe was starting to wonder if this kid was about to throw a punch. He looked away from Shoupe and started unloading his own groceries.

“Whatever man. You’re a friend of Kie’s right? I did it for her.” Out of the corner of his eye Rafe could see Shoupe. “What’s your name anyway? If Shoupe starts asking questions I need to at least know your name.”

“JJ.”

“Rafe.”

“I know.”

Rafe asked the woman ringing up the groceries to put the bread and peanut butter in a different bag, then swiped his dad’s credit card and grabbed all of the bags.

He took the receipt and started to the door that Shoupe was practically guarding. Rafe gave Shoupe a smile as they walked past that just made Shoupe’s frown deepen.

“What were you stealing that for anyway?” Rafe asked, as they got outside of the store and out of earshot from Shoupe.

JJ shot him a look. “Wanted a sandwich.”

For the first time, Rafe actually took a good look at JJ. His clothes were way too small for him and there were bruises peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. Rafe knew from his own life what kind of hits caused bruises that dark. Of course, Rafe’s clothes hid it a little better.

The other kids in their grade were starting to hit growth spurts – Rafe had been one of the first – but JJ still hadn’t. Rafe suspected the fact that JJ had to steal groceries to eat was a big reason for why.

Rafe looked away as they got to his car. “Whatever. Next time you see Kie, just tell her she can still come home, alright? Kook life may not be perfect, but at least we don’t have to steal bread.”

JJ’s face flushed red. The embarrassment quickly turned to anger and, once again, JJ looked mad enough to punch Rafe. Ignoring that, he handed the bag to JJ. “Shoupe is still watching you, man. Don’t do anything stupid just yet.”

Once JJ had the bag, Rafe turned on his heel towards his car. He put all of the groceries in first – balancing the milk on top of the bagels, effectively crushing them. As he shut the door behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to where JJ had been. Bag of groceries and all, he was gone.  

[fang-and-feather]

Love's Blessing

Star-Crossed Myth - Zyglavis/MC

Zyglavis plans a birthday surprise for his wife but not everything go as planned and he gets a surprise instead.

Written for Year of the OTP January Prompt: “Whenever I look at you…” from @yearoftheotpevent, FluffMonthly January's Prompt: January from @flufftober (where I live it was still January when I finished this, posting is what ran late) and Voltage Content Creation Callenge Prompt: Throwing them a surprise birthday party from @voltagefandomproject that served as a little extra inspiration to make this fic what it is, but mainly written for Feather's birthday.

So, Happy Birthday, Feather! (a little later because my computer and internet wouldn't let me post it on time) Here's a little gift for you! Thank you for running this blog with me and for being my inspiration to be here!

AO3 Version / SCM Masterlist / General Masterlist

Zyglavis had never paid any particular attention to dates before he started dating and later married a human woman. He was aware of human holidays that made the gods’ work more difficult, but it wasn’t like he kept track of them before.

With her, though, these had become important events to remember. He was usually still busy, but Zyglavis made sure he could spend at least a few hours by the side of his beloved and picked out gifts when appropriate.

Not only holidays, but other personal dates. One of them the turn of the year that she insisted they spent together, and that also signaled the beginning of her vacation.

She made a point to take her vacation at the same time every year and spend the entire January with him so they could start the year together.

And that wasn’t the only reason the month was special, but also because her birthday was at the end of it.

Gods didn’t have the habit of celebrating birthdays, or of keeping track of them, but Zyglavis knew how important it was for his human partner. So he had already made plans for their date. Plans that were ruined from the morning by a message on her phone.

“Is it work?” Zyglavis asked, seeing his wife frown at her phone’s screen, then sigh.

“Three people called in sick today and they are understaffed. I was really looking forward to today but… sorry. At least it seems I won’t be leaving too late.”

She really looked down and Zyglavis was tempted to snap his fingers and solve the situation, but he knew what she would say about that. So he only hugged her.

“Work is work. You don’t have to apologize.” She snuggled in his chest and Zyglavis combed his fingers through her hair. “It is now what we were expecting, but I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll spend the rest of the day together.”

They stayed in each other’s arms until they realized she would be late.

As he watched her hurrying to get ready, Zyglavis thought of how ironic it was. Back when they were dating, and even sometimes after, it was always him who had to change plans or put them on hold because of work. She had never complained and was always careful of not asking too much from him. She never held it against him either, even if they spent months without seeing each other.

It wasn’t the first time the situation was reversed but, usually they didn’t have big plans when it happened.

Zyglavis used his powers to take his wife to work, then tried to decide on a new plan for her birthday.

Humans usually threw parties to celebrate these dates, but he didn’t want to share the little time they had with anyone, and she was outgrowing big gatherings herself.

But what about a small, private party? He didn’t know much about cooking by hand, but enough to bake her a cake. As long as he had a recipe, Zyglavis was good at following instructions and they had done that together a few times, enough for him to learn something.

Decorations he would have to do with his powers, but that didn’t seem like a problem. And he had already gotten a gift for her. He just had to choose a nice, romantic place. They couldn’t go far the human way, but Zyglavis believed she wouldn’t mind if he transported them there, considering the time they had.

So the major work was actually baking. He choose a recipe a little fancier than the one they used to bake together - which might have been a little ambitious of him, but Zyglavis was confident in what he had learned, living with her for two years, not counting the time they spent dating - which meant he had to use his powers to get some ingredients there weren’t in the kitchen.

The hard part was using kitchen appliances like a mixer. There weren’t proper instructions on how to assemble and use it, and working together meant his attention was usually somewhere else while his wife handled the contraption.

At least, since they started living together, Zyglavis had a kitchen in his room, so no one else needed to know how the first attempt went and the mess was cleaned with a snap. And Zyglavis learned fast from his mistakes, so the cake was ready with time to spare.

Zyglavis did some research on birthday party decorations and spots he could set their little party on and ended up settling for a place in the heavens rather than on Earth.

They usually lived in the gods’ mansion on Earth most of the year because it was easier for his wife to go to and from work on her own, so it was a good idea to spend the last moments of her vacation month in the heavens too.

When it came the time to pick his wife at work, Zyglavis was waiting for her but she wasn’t coming out, until he was informed she had passed out and was taken to the hospital.

Worried, Zyglavis snapped his fingers as soon as he was out of anyone’s sight, transporting himself to the indicated hospital to find her leaving and looking perfectly fine.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call to me?” He immediately went to check her for injuries, but she hugged him instead.

“I’m fine, Zyglavis. I just got careless and ended up eating too many sweets in the last few days, and my blood pressure went down.” She laughed. “I didn’t want to worry you since it wasn’t serious.”

Well, she had complained about eating too much sweets a couple of days before, but she was complaining because she wasn’t exercising as much as she used to either and was afraid of gaining weight, not because it might make her ill, although he had advised her to cut a little on them, because he knew too many sweets wasn’t good for humans.

Although he could tell she wasn’t lying, there was a discreet tension in her eyes and voice.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry. Are we going home?”

“No. Since our plans had to be changed, I have a surprise for you. If you feel fine enough for it.”

She nodded and hugged him, which he took as an opportunity to transport them to a beautiful flower field in the heavens, where he had already decorated like he’d seen humans do.

“Wow! This is so beautiful.” She hugged him tighter. “Thank you, love.”

“It is our own private party. I used my powers to decorate, but I made the cake myself.”

“Cake?” She pulled away. “What cake?”

Chuckling, Zyglavis snapped his fingers before she could turn around, transporting the cake from his room and materializing a lit candle.

He’d made a small, three tiered chocolate ganache cake, not too sweet because she had been complaining about her recent eating habits.

“I know this isn’t half of what I promised you, but…”

“This is more than enough. Since I had to work, I was thinking we would just spend time together at home, but you threw me a party in a beautiful place. And you really made this cake without your powers! What else could I want?”

“But you are not entirely happy, my goddess. What is it?”

She didn’t think he hadn’t noticed the way her body tensed and her eyes only settled on him for a short time before darting around, did she?

“I just didn’t know how to bring it up…” She turned away, then back to him, but looking down, her voice low and cautious. “It is true that I had pressure problems because of the sweets, but that’s not everything…” She ran a hand through her hair and Zyglavis pulled her into his arms.

“Take a deep breath. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I lost track of time for being in the heavens for a while and… I completely forgot to take my medicine on time…” Zyglavis knew where this was going before she finished and understood her nervousness all too well, so he hugged her even tighter. “Zyglavis?” She asked, surprised and worried.

“Are you happy?” was all he could ask, good and bad situations crossing his mind.

“I should be… no. I am happy. I’m going to have a child with the man I love. Why wouldn’t I be?” She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, nervousness being replaced by determination and delight, that reflected exactly his last thoughts. “I know demigods are taboo in the heavens and that having this child won’t be easy, but this is the ideal life I always dreamed of but tried to ignore because I told myself we couldn’t… but we have overcome so much together already. Our love was forbidden from the start, but here we are, married and happy. And, you know, whenever I look at you, I feel like everything will be alright. It will be difficult, but our love can overcome any challenge in the end.”

Her words reflected his exact thoughts, and Zyglavis couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Yes. We’ll get through this together as a family. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do everything in my power to take care of you and this child and make you happy.”

“I know you will, and I will be the one to protect you. Like a family should.”

A family! Zyglavis had never entertained the thought, even after they got married. Every little step of their relationship had been marked by dangerous challenges, and this one might, too. But, now that it was happening, he would fight to keep that new fragment of happiness in their lives.

To think he would go so far to break so many of the heavens’ laws for the love of that woman. A human he shouldn’t have even met, but now he couldn’t live without. It was truly a miracle they had gone so far, and they would continue doing so for as long as they lived.

“Oh, the candle is melting!” She suddenly exclaimed. “Can’t have this cake going to waste when you have gone to so much trouble to make it.” She laughed and kissed him.

“And now we have one more reason to celebrate.” He interlaced his fingers with hers and the two walked to the blanket he’d set down like it was a picnic.

“Yeah. Thank you for supporting me, my love.” She turned her attention back to the cake and blew the candle. “My only wish is for our future happiness. And I can tell you that, because I know you’re the only one who can make it come true.”

Zyglavis kissed her again, each kiss deeper than the other.

“Happy birthday, my goddess.”

“Thank you for making it a happy day, because it wouldn’t be that happy without you.”

“We are the same, then.”

Because he would never be so happy if he hadn’t met her. He was a better god and a better man with her and their growing family could only make him keep growing as both, so no matter how many challenges they faced, Zyglavis knew nothing bad could come of their love.

SCM Masterlist / General Masterlist

[lance-space-mommy]

A Bar So Low, It Was a Tripping Hazard in Hell

Izuku Centric! BKDK endgame

He cheated on me. I know when. I know who. I know where. I know how. I know who he cheated on me with. I have video proof and pictures. I have screenshots of texts.

I’m not dumb. He thinks I’m dumb. He’s been avoiding me. He knows I know of that I have a hunch of what he’s doing. He’s going to get defensive and call me crazy.

I’ve been letting this brew inside me for too long. At first, I was devastated. Then I felt a burning anger consume me. I was stuck in a cycle of sorrow and anger. Of course, I was grieving the loss of my relationship before it even ended.

I was waiting to dump him on my birthday. I don’t expect him to give me a gift or even remember. He’s always been a piece of shit. I just ignored it for my own sake.

My name is Izuku Midoriya I’m dumping my cheating boyfriend.

It’s not hard to find reasons to dump the bastard. The only reason why we started dating was because I was heartbroken and decided that trying to move on wasn’t a bad idea. It clearly was a horrible idea because I got cheated on.

His name was Seiki Kagurazaka and he was a second-year student at U.A. High. I got close with the majority of his friends which helped me in the long run. They ended up liking me more than him and outed him to me as a cheater. I was often busy with hero work while they were hanging out so I wouldn’t have known if they hadn’t told me.

We only were a month into our relationship when the person I originally had a crush on broke up with their boyfriend. I cursed to myself but was determined to move on considering he had to recover from the breakup anyway.

I was in love with Katsuki Bakugo. No shocker there. It’s impossible for my attention to be focused on anyone other than him. Unfortunately, when he started dating Kirishima, it hurt to even look at them. I was beyond happy and supportive, but I couldn’t help but feel my heart break.

Now here I am, standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at my soon-to-be ex in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s important okay?”

“Really? I can’t believe you right now.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like our plans haven’t worked out before?”

“Oh my god. You actually forgot. We were supposed to go to my place to celebrate my birthday, asshole!”

Kagurazaka paled and the sight of his mortified expression brought me extreme joy. Usually, I’d be angry or upset, but I’ve never been more at peace. I was about to make the entire school see Kagurazaka was nothing more than a mindless fuckboy.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t remind me!”

That genuinely surprised me. I knew he’d get defensive, but this was a new level of stupidity. How I ever accepted his confession is beyond me.

Meanwhile, behind me, I heard the voices of my classmates. I knew Mina, Kaminari, Uraraka, Hagakure, and Ojiro were behind me. In my peripheral vision, I can see the spikey blond hair that belonged to Bakugo.

Behind Kagurazaka was the group of his friends that would drop him after we broke up. They were the ones who supported me after sharing the news that he was cheating on me.

Suddenly, I didn’t want my failed relationship on display for the school to see. I grabbed Kagurazaka by the ear and tugged him into a more private area of the school. I know some people would respect me wanting privacy, but I couldn’t blame those who followed.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Izuku! What the hell?”

I couldn’t help but let out an exasperated huff, letting go of Kagurazaka. This was it.

“You know what makes me crazy? I’m sorry, can I say this? You know what makes me nuts?” I didn’t wait for a response. “The fact that we could be together—Here together. Sharing our night. Spending our time. And you are gonna choose someone else to be with-.”

“No. That’s not—I’m not choosing-!”Kagurazaka went to interject, his defensiveness rearing its head again.

I shut that down quickly.

“No, you are!”

“No!”

“Yes, Seiki, that's exactly what you’re doing!” I can’t help but shout at him. He really thinks he’s going to win this. “You could be here with me Or be there with them. As usual, guess which you pick.”

“No Izuku, I have to go-!” snapped Kagurazaka in a way that said a thousand words.

Fuck those homewrecking bitches and his fuckboy guy-friends that probably supported his cheating.

Without missing a beat, I snarkily fire back at him. “No, Seiki, you do not have to go to another party with the same twenty jerks you already know! You could stay with your boyfriend on his fucking birthday!”

I got to know his friends and became really good friends with them, yet he had no shame in cheating on me in front of them. It was beyond embarrassing for everyone to see that I wasn't worth it for him!

This was more than him cheating. This was him cheating after not putting any effort into our relationship from the beginning. He wasted my time and energy. We were both training to become heroes. And sure, I am farther ahead than he may ever be, but couldn't he be proud of me? Or even pretend to be?

“And you could, God forbid, even see my interviews!”

Seeing his stupid face with no guilt written on it filled me with a rage I didn't know I could feel. I will resent Kagurazaka till the day I die. He clearly doesn't feel guilty about cheating and still refuses to admit it.

“And I know in your soul it must drive you crazy! That you won't get to play with your little girlfriends!”

The words I dreaded hearing suddenly met my ears. Kagurazaka now knows that I know he cheated. Kagurazaka knows that I know he'd skip out on dates to go to parties and hook up with whatever girl threw herself on him. He had nowhere to turn, so he'd suddenly project on me.

"You're crazy-!"

I feel his hands try and snatch my wrists to silence me. And in that split second any composure I had left was out the window. All restraints were forgotten and our relationship was officially done.

I shove him away hard enough for him to nearly fall over. Without worrying about who heard anymore, I shouted at him. "No I'm not, no I'm not!"

Kagurazaka's eyes widened, officially backing down. The line had been crossed and there was nothing he could do to mend what he's ruined. I no longer loved him.

There would be no more stolen kisses in the halls or in our dorms. There won't be any more secret hugs whenever we feel the urge to touch. There will never be fingers grazing as we walk through the halls side by side. My eyes will never meet his again after this. My voice will never be directed towards him after this. I'll be nothing more than a memory.

"And the point is, Seiki, that you can't spend a single day that's not about you and you and nothing but you! Marvelous, powerful, you!"

I can feel I'm using my whole body to exaggerate my screaming. Everything I was feeling was pouring out of my mouth. Feelings and thoughts I'd been bottling up about him were now being thrown right into his face.

"Isn't he wonderful? Just seventeen! The savior of Japan! You and you and nothing but you! Miles and piles of you! Pushing through windows and bursting through walls! En route to the sky! And l-"

I couldn't do it anymore and the tears started falling. I didn't want him to see me crying, but I felt so defeated that I couldn't help but break down at the thought of him cheating. We never did anything more than the occasional makeout, but he could sleep with multiple girls he just met?

He didn't even try to come up with a dumb excuse or apologize. He didn't beg for me to stay or say that it was an accident or a one-time thing. I wanted to believe he felt some guilt or shame, but deep down I knew he’d only be upset that I found out.

Even now, as I was crying before him he didn't even move to comfort me. He didn’t say a word to try and fix what he broke. I decided if this was the end, I'd leave nothing untouched.

"I swear to God. I'II never understand. How you can stand there straight and tall... and see I'm crying...and not do anything at all." I know I sounded pathetic and heartbroken, but the regret that finally appeared on Kagurazaka's face made it worth it.

As I saw his hand budge to reach out to me, I shook my head and turned away from him. There was a group shamelessly watching and I could tell the wish they fled the scene before I could see their faces.

Thankfully it wasn't random people and was made up of Kagurazaka's friends and my friends. It made the situation a lot less messy for me. Still, one of Kagurazaka's friends, more specifically the first girl who told me he was cheating, reached out to me.

"Izuku."

I raised my hand to signal I didn't want to be here, let alone talk at the moment. I dismiss myself and walk away.

"Izuku."

I wanted to scream, but the voice belonged to someone I could never be hostile to. All I do is turn to face Bakugo and shake my head.

"I'll see you tomorrow Kacchan."

I push open the double doors at the end of the hall and leave. I'll tell Aizawa I got sick and was heading home instead of my dorm. He already accepted my request to spend my birthday with my mother.

My birthday was spent in the arms of my mother. I ended up spending Sunday at home as well. I didn't want to answer the questions I know my classmates would have or see the looks of pity yet.

When I got back, no one asked any questions and there weren't any looks of pity. Apparently, Bakugo got house arrest for beating up Kagurazaka. Uraraka and Kagurazaka's ex-friends explained what happened to class 1-A. So, by the time I got back, all I got was support.

I was happy to hear I’d be able to rant about him to many of my friends whenever I found the strength to talk about it. It seemed that I also had plenty of second-years to talk to about it as well. Sure they saw him cheating, but I had embarrassing stories of him to share.

It seems Bakugo could sense I'd be coming back because he was waiting in my room when I walked in. All I could do was smile. And suddenly I can't imagine how I could ever bring myself to distance myself from him.

"Thank you, Kacchan."

"He's lucky I didn't kill him for doing that to you."

As long as it took me to move on, it pissed me off that all it took was one sentence for all those feelings to come back full force. Trying to ignore the rush that was making me dizzy, I stepped closer and plopped down on my bed.

"Yeah, I think he'll probably avoid me like the plague now."

I really hope he wouldn’t dare walk through the first-year hall. Then again, Kagurazaka was a piece of shit. He had no shame so I wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly started dating another first-year by the end of next week.

"Yeah, you screaming at him was pretty badass. Definitely destroyed his ego with how you tore into him," snickered Bakugo, his smirk as devilish as ever.

"Thanks."

"Here. Take it."

Suddenly a small box is placed on my lap. I soon realized that this was a birthday gift considering I wasn't around for my birthday.

"Oh! Kacchan!"

Soon I was a crying mess all over again. After having my ex-boyfriend forget my birthday, this really got my emotions all over the place.

"Hey! Why are you crying?"

"I'm so happy." I pathetically cry out.

I open the box after a smack to the back of my head and a quick breather. Looking inside is a golden All Might charm bracelet. There were at least six limited-edition charms in addition to the limited-edition All Might bracelet the charms go onto.

Bakugo was most definitely collecting these charms for close to a year at this point. That information sent the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive.

I may have just gotten out of a relationship and this may make me a bad person, but I couldn't resist launching myself onto Bakugo. It seemed that Bakugo didn't mind being a bad person as well when he supported my weight and kissed me back.

The end!

This was completely inspired by the musical The Last Five Years and more specifically the song See I'm Smiling by Anna Kendrick! God the feminine rage in that gives me goosebumps everything.