#*okay more like small markets than grocery stores usually but this one’s like a full store. anyway.
Text
do people not have co-ops in other parts of the country is it seen as too socialist or are they only in farming areas or something
#they’re all over the rural areas here. some are bigger than others the one i was referring to is the biggest#they’re basically community owned grocery stores that have basically all local and or organic ingredients#i’m not trying to look down on people here i just never in a million years would hear ‘co-op’ and think ‘britain’#because they’re like pretty common here#text#my post#mobi#*okay more like small markets than grocery stores usually but this one’s like a full store. anyway.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}
Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.
Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.
Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz
Life As We Know It Masterlist
Shelby’s Masterlist
Tara’s Masterlist
* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story!
** Trigger warning: Miscarriage.
This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer.
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”
She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.
Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.
It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.
And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.
It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”
“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”
Nesta’s eyes narrowed.
Elain’s smile widened.
After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.
She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.
Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.
*
When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.
Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.
Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.
Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.
“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.
Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”
“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”
“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”
“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”
Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”
Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.”
Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”
“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”
“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.
“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.
Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”
He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”
Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.
“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”
“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.
She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”
He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”
“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.
He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.
“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”
Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”
“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim.
“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.
Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”
She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”
“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”
“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.
“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.
“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.
His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”
Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”
Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”
She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”
“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”
Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”
“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”
She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”
“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”
Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”
Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?”
“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”
Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”
“But?” Nesta asked.
“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.”
“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”
Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”
Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.
“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”
“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.
He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”
Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”
“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.
“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.
Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”
Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”
Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.
“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”
Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”
Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”
Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”
“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.
She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”
“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”
“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”
She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”
“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”
“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet.
He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.
Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back.
Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.”
“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”
He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”
She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”
Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”
“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”
He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”
“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.
Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.
“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”
Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”
Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”
Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”
They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.
Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.
It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.
He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.
With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.
“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.
The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.
“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.
“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush.
He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.
“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering.
“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”
Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”
Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.
There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…
She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”
Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”
The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”
She gnawed into her lip, nodding.
“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.
She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”
He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.
Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”
The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.
“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”
Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead.
“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”
“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.
She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”
Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.
“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.
She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.
She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”
Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.
“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.
“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.
She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”
He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”
Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.”
“You didn’t know,” he shot back.
Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”
“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye.
“It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”
“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.
Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”
She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.
“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”
He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”
Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”
He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”
“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.
He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”
“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”
Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”
Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.
Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”
“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder.
“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.
Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”
“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”
She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”
He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”
“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”
She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.
“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”
“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in.
“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?”
Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.
It was tempting.
It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.
But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh.
Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.”
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
That’s The Way (Chapter 4)
Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader
Word count: 5.7k
Warning(s): Jimmy and Y/N falling in love at first sight🥺, nsfw insinuations in the beginning but nothing bad, language
Author’s notes: It’s Jimmy time, mates! I’m so sorry for making you wait so long! Slow burns can suck like that sometimes. I hope you’re enjoying the plot so far, and that it wasn’t what you expected! There’s so much more drama to come, though, so I hope you’re excited for that😂 As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3
------
Y/N’s train ride home from The Yardbirds’ hotel was a constant swirl of what the fucks booming in her mind: what the fuck just happened, what the fuck does this mean, what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck is Jim doing, what the fuck will this become?
Out of all the things on God’s good, green earth he could have wanted, he wanted her to kiss him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Y/N thought when she initially heard the request. Then, when she questioned it, he escalated it to a blowjob since she thought a kiss was “too tame.” Y/N eventually did kiss Jim, as he wished. She was pretty sure that he still wanted her to kiss him after his little upgrade, and boy, was she right. ‘He called me a princess’, she remembered...what the hell was that supposed to mean?
As contradictory as it was, her mind was racing with so many thoughts, yet, at the same time, none at all. She was in overdrive, unable to think straight. Y/N forced herself to come to her senses as the train neared her stop, since her parents could not see the sheer bewilderment in her eyes and facial expression as she walked into her home. They would ask question after question, interrogating her as if she had committed a crime they had to get to the bottom of. She had to admit, reluctantly, that this was exciting. The star-studded aspect of it, the secrecy… It was a rollercoaster ride, yet Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to get off anytime soon. In the back of her mind, though, she knew this little dalliance wasn’t going to lead to anything serious.
Jim, however, currently sitting at the foot of his bed in an empty hotel room, was in a complete daze. He couldn’t comprehend that this was reality. The most beautiful girl in the whole world had just sucked him off, and then kissed him! She was completely obedient yet willing, and adorably shy, blushing every two seconds. But the kiss. It was dizzyingly soft, sweet, and passionate on her part. To Jim, this meeting of lips was perfect. Addictive. Devastatingly addictive, like a drug. He wanted more. Her lips were something else to taste and feel. He wondered if she would ever come back to him with intimate intentions. Perhaps even to spend the night, or something even more serious. By the way she so often smiled in a bright and enthusiastic way, Jim thought she just might. He had come to the conclusion, after continuously replaying what had happened just minutes ago in his head, that he was falling hopelessly in love with this girl. His Y/N.
Jim had never felt like this before.
And he didn’t know what to do about it.
~~~~~~~~
A few weeks later...
Y/N’s mum had sent her and her brother Charlie by train into London to go grocery shopping, and perhaps to visit Carnaby Street, Portobello Market, and the Oxfam charity shops to get some new clothes for themselves. Pushing the cart around the supermarket, Y/N and Charlie looked intently at the handwritten list their mum had given them.
“Alright, what do we need next?” Y/N asked, her head tilted to see the small piece of paper.
“Uh, we still have to get oatmeal, eggs, and some fruits and vegetables,” Charlie replied, mirroring Y/N’s position as he gazed down at the list in his hands, which was slowly being painted with black ink. They were making good time, all things considered.
“Let’s go to the produce section then, so we can get everything all in one go,” Y/N decided, starting to push the cart in that direction.
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Charlie’s nod served as confirmation, and the two walked on, gazes captured every-so-often by the gaggle of people passing by.
Once the two siblings reached their desired destination, Y/N began inspecting the clear clamshell containers of assorted berries as Charlie went to fetch a bag of broccoli florets and a variety of potatoes. As Y/N began placing the fruit in the cart, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
She turned around to see a very domestic-looking Jeff Beck, pushing around a grocery cart, just like she was. It was odd to see him going about his life as though he was just an ordinary working-class man, especially being the revered guitar god he was. Y/N laughed at the sight as he came over towards her.
“Hi Jeff,” Y/N greeted, walking over to give him a hug.
“Hello darling,” he responded, tilting the girl back and forth in the hug, long arms cradling her against his chest. “How are you doing?”
Y/N looked at him with a small grin after pulling away. An exhale passes through pursed lips as she replies. “As well as I can be, I guess. How ‘bout you?”
“Can’t complain,” he smiled, which then turned a little more solemn. He reached out a hand to place on her upper arm in solace. “I’m still really sorry about Sam, love. I wish I could’ve told you, but he swore me to secrecy… and I don’t want to lose my job just yet.”
“Don’t worry about it, I completely understand. It’s not your fault.” Y/N’s chuckle chimed through the air, much like the birdsongs that seemed to fill the space around them, and she paused, “I’ve done quite a bit of soul-searching recently, and I don’t think I truly loved him...the situation was all so new and exciting, that it made me believe I did. But now, I realize I didn’t.”
“I’m glad you found the light at the end of the tunnel, kid. But that’s life, Y/N. You win some and you lose some.”
“Thank you, Jeff. Really. For being so supportive,” Y/N said in gratitude, as Jeff flashed her a toothy smile.
“Ah, don’t mention it...actually, it’s funny I ran into you because I was actually going to call you, but I… may have lost your number.” A sheepish hand ran through the short hair at the nape of his neck, and Y/N giggles at the man’s hesitancy.
“That’s okay. Here, I’ll write it down for you,” Y/N grinned as she took out a spare piece of paper and a pen from her bag, “what did you need to call me for?”
Jeff watched Y/N’s hands as she scribbled down her number. Her handwriting was neat, soft spirals decorating the ends of her letters. Playful, yet full of grace. Just like her, Jeff thought. “There’s a May Ball at Queen’s College in Oxford on the 18th, and I was wondering if you’d like to come. It’s outdoors, and it should be a nice day.”
As Y/N handed Jeff the piece of paper, he continued. “More importantly, a good friend of mine is attending, and I thought you would like to meet him. You two are pretty similar, so I think you’ll hit it off really well.”
“Do you mean that this meeting is supposed to be a sort of… romantic proposition?” Y/N tilted her head in playful confusion.
Jeff smirked. “Not necessarily. He’s friends with the rest of the guys, so it’s only fair that you meet him, since we consider you a part of our inner circle.”
Y/N grinned at his statement, shaking her head, a chuckle tumbling past her lips. “Well, for the record, Jeff, I’m retired from dating for a while,” she admitted, “the whole thing with Paul shook me up a bit, and I need time to trust again, y’know?”
“Yeah, I understand. But my friend is a nice bloke, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much, or put up a front. If you’re uncomfortable, of course we can—”
Charlie came running up to Y/N’s cart and placed the bags of broccoli and potatoes inside. He then stood next to Y/N to see this stranger that she was talking to. Jeff noticed the little boy who suddenly appeared next to Y/N, and smiled warmly. Pointing to the boy, and changing his voice to be a bit gentler than usual, he asked, “Who’s this, Y/N?”
“This is my little brother Charlie,” Y/N said, softly putting her hand on her brother’s back, bringing him to the forefront. Charlie widely smiled at Jeff, baring his childish grin that was missing a couple teeth. Charlie couldn't wait until they grew in, because it would “finally make him look like a real man”, as he exclaimed so often at home.
Jeff crouched down to Charlie’s level and stuck out his hand to shake Charlie’s. “Nice to meet ya, mate. I’m Jeff, a friend of your sister’s.”
Charlie’s eyes widened as he recognized who this man was. “Jeff Beck?” Charlie asked hopefully, “as in the guitar god, Jeff Beck?”
Jeff chuckled as he looked up at Y/N. “Is this the shit you’ve been feeding him?” Y/N nodded and laughed.
“There’s an ounce of truth in that statement, isn't there, Beck?”
“Yes, I’m Jeff Beck, but I’m just the lead guitarist for The Yardbirds. The guitar god title goes to Hendrix, or Scotty Moore,” Jeff explained. What a humble change of pace for Jeff, Y/N thought.
Jeff stood back up and walked with Y/N and her brother throughout the store, pushing their carts in sync and grabbing food as they went. He asked her about what she was up to musically, and she talked about how she was polishing up some Debussy and Rachmaninoff pieces, as well as fiddling around with some old Fats Domino and Everly Brothers records. Charlie and Jeff bonded over their love of cars, which made Y/N very happy.
~~~~~~~~
18th June 1966
The day of the May Ball came. Y/N was excited for the show, but she didn’t want a sour encounter with Paul to ruin her good time. Jeff had called her earlier in the week to give her instructions on what to do upon arrival, and how to access the backstage area safely.
The backstage area was a white tent with the sides covered. Inside, there were multiple long tables of different distinguished people, such as Mama Cass and Graham Nash. Alcohol and little finger foods littered the tables, served in such abundance that it seemed no one was going to see tomorrow.
Y/N walked over to where she saw her friends, and upon spotting the girl, they all waved and said their cheerful hellos. Y/N walked over to sit with them, and ended up taking a seat between Chris and Jeff, crossing her legs and folding her hands in a sophisticated manner, always the lady she was taught to be. She chose her seat at the table very carefully, sitting very far away from Paul Samwell-Smith.
As everyone chatted away, she noticed there was a tall, thin young man with short, dark wavy hair who sat down in a seat between Jeff and Keith, delicately holding a flute of champagne. He was looped back into the conversation immediately, as if he had known the band his whole life. When Y/N saw him, her heart stopped.
This new boy was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He looked like an English James Dean; with the kind of attractiveness that anyone, male or female, completely swooned over with a single glance. This stranger could get anything he wanted at the drop of a hat, with his gorgeous looks and his graceful countenance. He had a sullen, mysterious edge to him, but he also looked gentle and sweet at the same time. He had eyes as green as a forest full of lush deciduous trees, flawlessly framed by dark, bushy eyebrows and accented by long, thick eyelashes. His nose was adorable, petite as it was, and his lips were full and pouty. His smile and laugh made Y/N melt on the inside, his perfectly straight teeth illuminating his porcelain face.
For a moment, Y/N thought she was in love. She was pulled back from her daydream quickly, though, because Jeff realized that now was the perfect opportunity to introduce his two friends.
“Y/N, this is my friend Jimmy, who I was telling you about,” Jeff said, getting Y/N’s attention. Y/N grinned as she refocused on the situation.
Jimmy turned towards Jeff when he heard his name, and that’s when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, sitting right next to Jeff. Lucky bastard.
His breath hitched in his throat upon sight of this girl. She was perfect; she looked like an actual angel. The way her hair, soft-looking and slightly wispy in the light summer wind, cascaded down her shoulders; her doe-eyes seemed to twinkle in the dimming light of day, pulling him in like the strongest of currents. Her pillowy, supple lips encased a perfect smile, slightly crooked. It was, like the rest of her, completely endearing.
It was then, looking at this beautiful woman, (Y/N… Jeff had said her name, hadn't he?) that Jimmy remembers he was taken. His girlfriend, Jackie DeShannon, was waiting for him at home, but he only had eyes for the girl in front of him, and it would stay that way, it seemed.. He had to get to know her.
Jimmy snapped out of his hypnosis in the nick of time. He softly smiled at Y/N, a smile that made Y/N’s insides lurch, holding out his hand for her to shake as he turned on the charm. “Jimmy Page,” he initiated, his voice being softer and more calming than Y/N expected.
Y/N shyly smiled at him, a dark pink flush gracing her natural complexion, as she reached out to grasp his hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jeff has told me about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” Jimmy chuckled.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Y/N beamed, a feigned contemplative look on her face.
“How do you know Jeff?” Jimmy asked, turning his body towards her, now fully invested in getting to know Y/N.
“I met him...a year ago I wanna say? Is that right, Jeff? At a Yardbirds gig at the Marquee,” Y/N asked for clarification. The last thing she wanted to do is lie about Jeff to Jimmy, even if it was something as insignificant as this. In addition, she wanted to use Jeff as a temporary crutch in the conversation. Jimmy’s beauty was making her feel shyer than she already was; she felt as if she was curling into herself.
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jeff intervened, “but she didn’t just meet me, she met the whole band.”
Jeff immediately noticed that the band was leaving the table to get ready to go on stage. Jimmy and Y/N didn’t even notice the table’s departure because they were so wrapped up in each other’s presence and words. Jimmy even moved a seat over to get closer to Y/N, although he said it was an attempt to “hear her better since the room was so loud of drunken buffoons”. Y/N had giggled at that, and it had sounded like music to the man’s ears. Jimmy was completely taken with her, as easy as it was to see.
“Wait, so how do you know Jeff?” Y/N asked curiously.
“I've known him since I was… gosh… thirteen or fourteen? We bonded over the guitar and blues. Indian music, too,” Jimmy grinned, taking a sip of his warming champagne.
“You play the guitar too?” Y/N gasped. Jimmy nodded his head enthusiastically.
“Oh jeez, I should’ve known! No wonder you’re tight with the Yardbirds,” she giggled.
Jimmy’s eyes twinkled at her now-flustered demeanor. “You’re okay, Y/N,” he chuckled, placing a hand gently on her forearm. Y/N felt her entire body break out into chills.
“I’m a session musician, actually,” he began, his hand lingering on the girl’s arm, for what seemed like a millennium to Y/N. “I’d hate to simplistically explain what a session musician is to someone like you if you already know what it is.” It sounded like he was holding back a bout of embarrassed laughter. “You must be quite intelligent, especially in matters of music, if Jeff has stuck by you for all this time.”
Y/N smiled bashfully. He’s so sensitive, she thought dreamily. “Yes, I know what a session musician is,” she giggled, “I’ve been a piano player all my life, so I know a thing or two about what you blokes are talking about when it comes to music.”
Jimmy’s heart began to thump a little faster as his smile widened. “Wow! That’s brilliant. Are you classically trained then?”
“Yes, but I do know quite a bit of blues numbers.”
“Oh, so you really know what you’re talking about! I have to admit, although I am a session musician, I’m not particularly good at reading music. Maybe you could teach me a few things about sight reading and we can jam some time?”
Y/N blushed as her lips pursed together in a grin. “I would love that. We’d have so much fun!” The way that Y/N’s full lips twisted together in a smile looked so damn kissable to Jimmy.
“My girlfriend was actually supposed to teach me music theory, but we never got around to it, unfortunately,” Jimmy continued.
“Ah, okay. Well, if you give me a time, date, and place, we can definitely make it work,” Y/N beamed.
“Wonderful!” An awkward, pregnant pause filled the space, and Y/N cleared her throat, unconsciously sliding closer to Jimmy. There was almost a magnetic pull to him, and Y/N was caught up in it.
“So, what’s it like being a session musician? I’m sure you get asked that all the time,” Y/N laughed.
Jimmy smiled. “It’s quite grueling, brutal at times, but I find it fulfilling. One mistake, and you’re fired, so it’s a lot of pressure.”
“Oh wow! That must be horrible to deal with.”
“Yeah, sometimes the pressure can really settle into you, but for me it dissipates once I’m in the booth. There’s three sessions a day, five days a week, so I don’t have much time for leisure. It’s been getting really dry lately since all I’m playing is rhythm guitar. I love experimentation and stretching out on lead guitar, so constant rhythm is getting quite annoying.”
“I understand where you’re coming from then, from a creative standpoint. How long have you been a session player?”
“Four years, roughly.”
“You must be quite dedicated then!” Y/N exclaimed, “who have you played with?”
“Oh gosh,” Jimmy exhaled deeply, calloused fingers raising to land on his chin. Slight stubble shadows it, and the sharp scent of aftershave wafted towards the girl. Lost in the scent, Y/N nearly missed his reply. “The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, Donovan, The Who, Petula Clark, Jackie DeShannon, Carter Lewis and the Southerners, Neil Christian and the Crusaders, Herman’s Hermits, Marianne Faithfull… just to name a few.”
“Wow! What a resumé!” she gushed, “That’s incredible. You should be so proud, Jimmy.”
“Thank you very much, love, I appreciate it.”
Suddenly, an announcer’s booming voice cut through Jimmy and Y/N’s conversation as he introduced the Yardbirds to the stage. As the five men walked on, Jimmy stood up from his chair.
“Come with me to the wings so we can see and hear them better,” he smiled, holding out his arm for Y/N to take. Y/N agreed, standing up and linking her arm with Jimmy’s as they walked in sync to the side of the stage.
The first few numbers were played perfectly, and it was clear that the audience (and even the road crew) were enchanted by the spectacle. Y/N knew from past shows that the next song would be “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” and she knew that they always knocked that one out of the park. It was always stimulating and explosive.
Jeff and Chris began the opening riff, the low E, G, and A notes thundering out of the monitors melodically. Just as Keith sang “got a train” on his cue, he fell straight backward and hit his head off Jim’s bass drum. Jimmy and Y/N’s jaws dropped in shock as a loud gasp echoed through the air from the audience. The music abruptly stopped as the rest of the band crowded around Keith’s fallen figure to see if he was alright. Murmurings of “fucking hells” were all that were spoken from the road crew as they tried to redeem the concert.
“He was drunk,” Jimmy whispered to Y/N giddily, “he was completely out to lunch and wobbling as he walked onstage.”
“I didn’t even notice,” Y/N replied quietly with a grin, “that definitely explains all the empty bottles and glasses on the table.”
Momentarily, Keith got back up and motioned for the band to restart “Train Kept A-Rollin’” and they finished the song without another mishap. The rest of the set was completed smoothly, and everything sounded sonically incredible. Jimmy and Y/N stood close together the entire time, Jimmy sneaking glances at Y/N from time to time. He lost his breath with the way her eyes were almost aglow in the fading light, and her soft-looking lips parted in childlike wonder as she watched the live music.
The Yardbirds came off the stage, begrudgingly making their way into the backstage tent, where Jimmy and Y/N had situated themselves. No one looked happy, especially Paul. Jeff had his usual stoic look, but he was rushing around for any alcoholic beverage he could find to ease his nerves after what could have been the worst possible scenario.
Everyone took a seat at the table where they were before the show. Jimmy and Y/N sat next to each other as they took in the distressed expressions of the five other men. Jeff was slumped in his chair, next to Jimmy, taking swigs of a beer he’d found. Jim and Chris just stared at the ground, drink in hand. Paul just looked royally pissed off, to the point that it almost scared Y/N. Keith, however, was still totally out of it in his drunken stupor.
“Hey, Jim,” Jeff said quietly to Jimmy, “look, you know, I’m really sorry about the gig. I’m sure you aren’t interested in joining the band now…”
“Oh no,” Jimmy chuckled, “that was amazing! Absolutely brilliant! I loved it.”
Y/N’s interest piqued as she heard their whispers of new information. “Wait! Jimmy’s joining the band? I thought there were only supposed to be five live Yardbirds,” she whispered.
Jeff leaned over Jimmy to whisper back to Y/N. “Oh yeah! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you this already. Paul is probably going to leave the group...and I think it might be sooner than we thought, especially after the whole Keith fiasco...Jimmy is going to take his place on bass, and hopefully he’ll take on dual lead guitar at some point. Then Chris will do bass,” Jeff’s eyes diverted to Paul, who was sitting with his arms crossed and face angry, staring off into space. Jimmy and Y/N followed Jeff’s line of sight mischievously.
“Oooh! Great plan,” Y/N smiled.
A little smirk creeped across Jeff’s face as he quietly counted down, “3...2...1…”
At the very prompt “1,” Paul abruptly stood up from his chair very loudly, capturing everyone’s attention.
“You know what? I’m done,” Paul exclaimed, stepping away from the chair as he pushed it in under the table.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Jim began, standing up from his own chair, “what do you mean ‘you’re done’? What the hell does that mean?”
Paul sneered at Jim. “What do you think I mean? I mean I’m done with this bullshit. I’ve had enough of the horrid travelling, not being noticed, and this drunk-off-his-ass bastard,” he exclaimed angrily, pointing at Keith.
“You need to relax, Sam,” Chris said gently, “look at everything we’ve accomplished over the last three years. You want to give that up? You’re losing your shit over one bad performance.”
“It’s been on my mind for a long time now, Chris. I fucking hate it,” Paul continued, anxiously running his hands through his hair, “and you know what? Y/N hanging around all the time has made it worse. She’s just here to be our fucking groupie. She’s only eating off our clout to be friends with famous people.” The entire table went silent, looking around nervously.
Y/N’s eyes widened at Paul’s awful accusation. “Are you serious?” she shot back coldly, “I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
“Oh what, you think I don’t recognize that that’s your motive?” Paul said condescendingly.
“If you think that being absolutely obsessed with you all is my sole hobby, my motive, whatever that means... you are sadly mistaken,” Y/N responded, her eyes closing to slits and her lips pressed together in disgust.
“You’re probably sleeping with Jim or Chris now for all I know!” he shouted, arms flailing in the air.
Y/N was fuming now, standing up from her own chair facing Paul. “How dare you make me seem like I’m a whore for the Yardbirds! Even if I was sleeping with Jim or Chris, that would be none of your business because you pursued me when you were fucking married, you dipshit.”
Paul’s maddening countenance grew. “You’re just an insecure little girl who needs famous musicians around her to validate her and make feel better about herself. You’re a fucking nuisance, like a gnat that just won’t fly away even when you swat at it again and again.”
Y/N gasped, the sound drowned out by the screech of metal against tile, as Jimmy stood up from his chair. He was distraught, upset at the antics between the two bitter exes, and stepped in front of Y/N to protect her from the horrible verbal blows served by Paul Samwell-Smith. Jeff beat him by a second, as he started to berate Sam for his little episode.
“You listen up, you wanker,” Jeff started, wagging his index finger in front of Sam’s face, “you’re just being a butthurt little bitch because Y/N found out that you were married. If anyone’s the whore here, it’s you. Y/N is our friend, even Jimmy’s now, and she takes care of us and makes us happy. She’s not just some whimsy, disposable groupie like the way you used her; she’s an intelligent, sweet, pretty girl who has our best interest at heart. And we have hers. You have to be a fucking idiot not to see that.”
Paul was taken aback. “I write, produce, and play bass for this group. All you do is play lead guitar. Trust me, Beck, I’m not the idiot here.”
“Well, your goddamn head isn’t screwed on straight, then,” Jimmy added, “I’ll be taking your place, thank you very much. And you will never mistreat Y/N on my watch. Ever. I’ve known her for about an hour, and she’s already absolutely magnificent.”
Y/N’s throat felt clenched, but some of the tension was relieved when she realized how protective Jimmy was being over her. As mad as she was, butterflies filled her stomach at his warm ways.
“I’m out of here! You all suck anyway. Have a nice trip to hell, all of you,” Paul said as he walked away to the road crew to get his belongings, flipping the people at the table off.
Y/N sat back down in her chair once Paul was out of sight, slouching and holding her cheeks with her hands as she blankly stared at the edge of the table. Jimmy and the four Yardbirds dragged their chairs closer to a saddened Y/N, who was determined to fight off the tears that threatened to roll down her fury-flush cheeks.
Jeff frowned at the state of his friend, starting to softly rub her cardigan-clothed back to console her. “I’m so sorry about Sam, Y/N. His behaviour was absolutely horrendous, and I can assure you, none of the things he said about you were even close to being true.”
Keith, still a bit drunk, stood up and walked over to Y/N, planting a peck on her cheek. “We’re so glad you’re here, dear. Truly. That belligerent little asshole can suck a fat one.”
A close-lipped smile found its way on Y/N’s lips. “Thanks Keith,” she chuckled.
“I’m going to go get you a cup of water, alright love?” Chris said as he stood up to walk over towards the bar.
“Thank you so much Chris,” she called after him. Chris flashed her a kind smile as he walked away.
I guess Mum and Dad were wrong...they really do care about me, Y/N thought happily, they really, truly do.
~~~~~~~~
After the May Ball was over, and the sky was growing darker with the coming evening, Jimmy and Y/N walked around the grounds of the venue together, talking about anything and everything and sharing laughs.
The lighthearted mood took a drastic shift at one of Jimmy’s followup questions.
“So, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the whole row between you and Sam about?”
Y/N flashed a sad smile, but it quickly faded as she took a deep exhale. “Well—”
Panicked, Jimmy took this as a cue that she didn’t want to talk about it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I get it because of how heated it was. I’m just worried about you, is all,” he interrupted.
“No, it’s okay. Really. I trust you,” she replied with a pursed lip-smile. Jimmy returned the sentiment, internally relieved that Y/N had already seemed to take a liking to him.
“Alright, so about a year or so ago, I went to a Yardbirds gig at the Crawdaddy Club, a few months after I met the band for the first time. Paul asked me out after that show, and nobody told me he was married, so naturally, I accepted.”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, love. What a shitty thing to do, especially to someone as wonderful as you,” Jimmy replied with a little flush, giving the girl a little rub on the small of her back.
Heat rippled throughout Y/N’s body at his touch. Regaining her composure, she sighed. “Thank you Jimmy. That means a lot. More than you know, actually.”
After a short silence, Y/N continued. “We went out for about eight months...and in retrospect, it now makes sense why I could never go over to his place. But anyway, I found out about it before the band played on Ready, Steady, Go in February. Keith, Jeff, Jim, and I were all talking at the front of the stage before rehearsals and it slipped.”
“Who ended up telling you?”
“Jim, but it was purely an accident.” Suddenly, all of the events that had happened between her and Jim guiltily flooded her mind. Now with Jimmy beginning to infiltrate her mind and cloud her vision, how was she supposed to genuinely enjoy the secrecy? Ah shit, she thought, here we go again.
“After the show, I confronted him about it,” Y/N continued, “and he was blaming me for our time together, a-and for ‘tempting’ him into asking me out just by being… me?”
“He seems like a right wanker, I can tell you that for sure,” Jimmy muttered, sliding his hand from its resting place on her back, to her shoulder, squeezing it lightly in solidarity. Y/N met his eyes then, tears filling her gaze, and Jimmy frowns. No one as lovely as her should be feeling this way. He smiles at her, and to Y/N, it is filled with comfort and appreciation. Some emotion… something akin to love, perhaps, lit a fire in her chest, and she looks away. The evening ambience does nothing to hide the traitorous blush that painted her cheeks.
“It’s getting quite dark out, love. How did you get here?” Jimmy asked, stealing another glance at a girl as she looked down at her ballet flats once more.
“I took the train, actually,” Y/N replied.
“Oh, so did I! Here, I’ll walk with you over to the station then.”
Y/N grinned at him. “That’s so kind of you, Jimmy. Thank you.”
“No problem, love. What’s your stop?” Jimmy asked as they began to make their way over to the station.
“St. Alban’s. How about you?”
“Epsom. I still live with my parents, I’m afraid,” he chuckled sheepishly.
“Oh, it’s okay!” she laughed with him, “so do I. It’s nice though, to still live with your parents… home-cooked meals and laundry and all. Plus sleeping in your own bed, and using your own bathroom, of course.”
“Those are very good points,” Jimmy agreed with a chuckle.
The two boarded the train once they got to the station, only waiting on the platform for a few minutes. They continued to talk all the way to St. Albans, where Y/N got off to walk home.
“Say you’ll see me again sometime soon, Y/N,” Jimmy half-asked, half-declared as she stood up to get off the train.
Y/N grinned at him. “I definitely will, Jimmy. It was so nice meeting you tonight...I loved getting to know you.”
“The feeling is mutual, love. Please stay safe and take care of yourself, okay?” he reached out his hand to grab Y/N’s, shaking it a little and smiling at her. Y/N nearly swooned at the gesture.
“I’ll try my best. You do the same as well. Have a good night!”
“Thank you, you too!” Jimmy waved as Y/N walked out the train’s doors. Her scent, a delicious mixture of vanilla with a hint of laundry detergent, lingered in the air as she passed by, weakening him both physically and his rational judgment.
He had a lot of thinking to do on the ride home.
————
Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby
#that's the way#jimmy page#the yardbirds#led zeppelin#jimmy page fanfic#jimmy page fanfiction#led zeppelin fanfic#classic rock fanfic
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dancing King in Quarantine
Warning: ‘Daddy’ mention once & Reader’s contact name for him is Daddy D
The news played quietly in the background as breakfast cooked on the stove. You were getting ready to go out and buy more groceries before lockdown, slipping on a hoodie that threatened to drown you in its folds. At least it smelt just like your boyfriend.
You shot Dabi a glance across the room, a grin plastered across your face ear to ear. There was something comforting about seeing the raven haired man impatiently holding a spatula as he watched over pancakes. “This fucking sucks.” he complained as he shuffled through a playlist looking for the perfect song.
“The song.. or cooking breakfast? You know I-” You reached over to snatch the spatula out of his hand. Dabi’s hand shot out and gripped your wrist firmly but not enough to hurt.
“I said I was going to cook us breakfast today. Thank you for your offer to help though little mouse. I promise, Daddy has it covered. Let me take care of things.” He kissed your cheek and slapped your ass with his free hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, I wouldn’t burn down the house on purpose.”
You traced a pattern onto his bare chest before pressing your hand firmly on his chest and giving him a kiss on the lips, “You sure you don’t want me to wait to eat breakfast with you?”
“Stop worryin’ bout me and get that cute ass in gear before all the good stuff is gone sweetheart. Breakfast will still be warm for you, I’ll have a fresh pot of coffee ready. Maybe even a warm bath if you’re back within the hour.”
“Okay... I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.” With one final parting kiss you left the warm comfort of your apartment and made your way to the grocery store. You spent most of your time sending texts back and forth with Dabi asking if you had enough of something and then trying to explain what you were talking about when he couldn’t find it easily.
To: Daddy D
-I’m on my way home! ( ˙꒳˙ )
Read 2:15pm
From: Daddy D
-Plain, Blueberries or Chocolate chip?
Read 2:17pm
To: Daddy D
-Surprise me! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
-I’ll eat anything you make („• ֊ •„)
Read 2:17pm
You struggled to get your key out when Dabi opened the door, he traded you a mug full of coffee for the bags in your hand. He offered you a small smile as he stepped aside and gestured for you to come in. The kitchen island counter was cleaned except for a plate of pancakes, eggs and a small bowl full of fruits. Dabi kissed your cheek again before taking the rest of your bags away from you.
You made yourself comfortable, staring down the man who made a pretty convincing double of your boyfriend. The pancakes were neither gooey nor almost burnt, the eggs were a perfect consistency and you swear you got a few whiffs of bacon. “Did you eat all the bacon, Dabs?”
He froze in place for a moment, offering up no response for what felt like an eternity as the silence stretched on between the both of you. He shifted his glance from his task of putting away groceries for you to your face as if he was calculating what to say next. “No.” He pointed to the microwave, “I saved some for you.” You beamed as you sipped your coffee.
You thanked him for breakfast and showered him in compliments about how much better his cooking was getting. You swear you saw him even blushing as you paid your compliments.
Together with your beloved you lazed around together on the couch for a cuddle-movie night session to forget about the state of the world outside the comfort of your home. “I’m boooooored” you bemoaned as you stretched out and sprawled across your boyfriends lap.
“What do you want me to do about it?” He asked, absent mindedly trailing a hand across your tummy and tracing patterns into your skin with a finger. He leaned down and peppered kisses along your jawline as he played with your hair. “Care to dance with me?” He whispered.
Your dominant hand searched for his hand lacing your fingers together as you pressed a kiss into his backhand. You nodded solemnly, releasing the hand that you had momentarily captured to get up on your own. Dabi managed to swiftly scoop you up before you had the chance to stand up on your own though and rose up off the couch like you weighed no more than a bag of grapes to him.
He gently set you down and smirked as he snatched your phone off the couch to surf through your collection of songs and queued up a bunch that he liked after connecting it to a portable speaker. He held his hand out as the first song began to play. It was a little slower than the usual upbeat music you were used to hearing him blasting through his headphones.
Together you glided across the living room, careful to mind the furniture and not cause one another to have a fresh set of bruises peppered along the others thighs from unremarkable circumstances. You both got lost to the rhyme and sway of the music together. The rasp of his laugh makes your heart swell, it’s almost musical to your ears.
You took a seat as you watched him lose him himself to one of his favorite songs, singing along at the top of his lungs and god.. you loved every second of it. It sent flutterers throughout your core, to watch him become so comfortable with you. You sung along after the chorus repeated, joining him on the “dancefloor”.
After three more songs passed you both began rearranging furniture so that you had more room to dance. Dabi was ecstatic when you gave him the go ahead to play whatever he wanted. Proudly he belted the lyrics after the G note hit. Your eyes lit up as you realized what song it was.
Together you both got lost in the throws of the dramatics, pantomiming along to the lyrics, thrashing around, the occasional headbanging, and of course.. you’ve both had your fair share of rockstar moments. It was a night to remember.
“If you were a rockstar would you write songs about me?” You asked tentatively as you nursed a warm cup of tea while Dabi made himself comfortable sprawled out on the floor.
“Uhh.. yeah?” He popped himself up on an elbow, “I’d write total bangers about you. The media would ask me who’s my muse and shit and I’ll tell em it’s all bout the MVP.”
“Would you keep me your little secret if it meant you’d be more popular for not being publicly taken?” You mused as you took a long sip of your tea.
“Do you have some sort of fantasy about me becoming a world famous rockstar you failed to tell me about?” He laid back down to stare up at the ceiling, “I dunno.. I don’t think I’d really care about being like.. you know popular just because of my looks.” He grimaced, “I’d want to be popular for my music, cause people like my sound and it resonates with them. If you didn’t mind the problems that could occur with being public about our relationship in that scenario.. I wouldn’t mind.”
“What if I made a recording of your laugh and sold copies of it? You know.. in this scenario.”
“If it’s made into a song I want a cut, if it’s just my laugh straight up I think that’s really weird but I hope it’s overpriced and limited edition so you know the super fans would be all over it.”
“You didn’t even need time to think about it huh?”
“If I can make money off just laughing I would. Sadly there’s not really a market for it considering the only people who hear me laugh well.. are my friends and you.”
Taglist:
@some-kindofgnome @humanitiesstrongestchicken
#Lighting the Bonfire#Dabi#Dabi bnha#Dabi x Y/N#Dabi x Reader#Dabi fanfic#soft Dabi#tw daddy mention
255 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lightning in a Bottle
Pairing: Trans Fem! Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/GN! Reader
Word Count: 2,484
Warnings: swearing, homophobia/transphobia, needles, hurt/comfort.
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell
It is week three of pride month! This is the third set of prompts that came from @flightlessangelwings and @autumnleaves1991-blog Pride writing prompts! I’ve never written Trans Jack before, and while I would typically headcanon him as trans masc, I thought this would be fun instead.
Prompts: Glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side”
You sighed, settled at Jack’s vanity as you organized her makeup. She was a menace when it came to organization, and more often than not, you were the one lining her lipsticks up in front of the mirror and putting the eyeliner pens back in their cup. After two years, you’d think she’d get the hang of this, but you’d be wrong. Even when she was away, like she was now, she couldn’t bother to put anything where it went before she left. You put her brushes back in their proper place in a drawer, absently checking your phone for the time or a text. Jack was due home any minute now, and even though she hadn’t been away for long, her absence had affected you.
The front door creaked open, and you perked up, turning in the vanity chair so you could pay attention to the sounds coming from downstairs.
“Hey babe!” Jack’s voice filtered up the stairs, and you smiled, hearing her take her boots off downstairs. “I’m home!”
Standing, you abandoned the mini project you’d been working on in favor of walking to the top of the stairs to watch Jack shimmy out of her coat and hang her hat up on top of the coat rack. She was a picture of beauty, her back to you as she loosened the top buttons of her shirt and rolled her sleeves up. Turning, she caught sight of you, her face pulling into a wide smile. “There’s my baby!” She said, running up the stairs until she was on the landing. “Come kiss me. I missed you.”
You ran down the steps, crashing into Jack and wrapping her in a hug. She’d been gone for two days, out on a mission for work. It was only two days, but you’d been grouchier than usual for those two days, and all you wanted was Jack cuddles. “I missed you too baby.”
Jack scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom and plopping you down on the bed. As you laughed, Jack pulled her skirt and petticoat off, leaving her in shorts and her button up. You smiled, gesturing her close. Jack didn’t argue, crawling across the bed so she could rest her head on your chest. It took a minute to find the best spot that wouldn’t send any of your limbs to sleep, but when you did find it, you knew Jack wouldn’t be getting up for anything.
“Did you have fun?” You asked, gently tugging Jack’s hair ties out and undoing her two braids. “Where’d they send you? Wasn’t it Montana again?”
“It was,” Jack said, eyes closed as you combed through her curls with your fingers. “Still as beautiful as ever. I’m gonna take you for our honeymoon.”
You chuckled, blinking slowly. “If we ever get married,” you finished.
“We will,” Jack promised, reaching up and trapping one of your hands in hers. “We absolutely will.”
Almost an hour passed while you and Jack cuddled, both of you nearly falling asleep until you remembered something. “Ah fuck,” you grumbled, untangling your limbs from Jack’s. “I have to run to the grocery store. I forgot to do it yesterday. I was so hectic with this work thing, and then you called to tell me you were coming home, and it completely slipped my mind.” As you rambled, you pulled on a neater shirt, looking around for your shoes.
“Can I come?” Jack asked, rolling over and sitting up.
“When am I ever going to say no to that?” You pointed out, picking up Jack’s skirt and tossing it at her. “But you should probably cover your ass.”
Jack laughed, leaving her skirt on the bed in favor of scooping up a pair of shorts. She loosely tucked her shirt into her pants, piling her hair up into a claw clip and watching as you finally found your shoes. “Big trip or small trip?” She asked, tossing you a pair of socks.
“Medium trip,” you said. “I don’t need a ton, mostly just stuff for dinner and the odd thing or two. So we can go to Sam’s.”
Sam’s market was a tiny mom and pop grocery store that hadn’t changed in decades, but you adored it. It was a ten minute drive, and you and Jack were there in no time.
“Fucking love this place,” Jack said happily, reaching out to pet Claire, one of the resident cows. “Reminds me of my dad’s ranch.”
You nodded, grabbing a basket and entering the store. Jack followed, immediately detouring to the pharmacy. You stayed nearby, half listening as Jack picked up her estrogen and made her way back to you.
“I hate those things,” Jack said, putting her prescription bag in your basket beside a bag of dried apple slices. “They’re super gross.”
You smiled. “You don’t have to eat them,” you said, linking your arm with Jack’s. “But I like them.”
The trip around the store was quick, and in no time, you were up at the counter. Sam, the owner, grinned when you two came up. “Haven’t seen you two in a while,” he said. “How’s work?”
“Good,” Jack said. “Just got back from a business trip, actually. It’s why I’m late on my prescription.”
“Ah,” Sam said, pulling the bag out of the basket. “Jen was wondering why you hadn’t picked it up yet. It’s all still working out for you?”
Jack nodded, opening her mouth to say something before a loud snort came from behind her. She turned, and so did you. Behind you was a young man with his arms crossed, looking between the two of you with a grin. “Did I interrupt?” He said in a thick southern drawl. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Jack said, drawing herself up to her full height and raising an eyebrow. “Do you have something to say?”
The man shook his head. “Not to you, you freak.”
Jack blinked, stepping back a tiny bit. She’d been passing consistently ever since her hair got long and she started to hit what she called second puberty, and it was rare anyone was able to tell right off the bat that she wasn’t a biological woman. You stepped in front of her, shielding her from the man. “You leave my girlfriend alone.”
“That ain’t a girl,” the man jeered. “That’s a man in a skirt.”
Your jaw clenched, and you were two seconds from punching the man square in the jaw when Sam stepped in.
“Here are your purchases,” he said, handing you a bag. “And you,” he turned to the man. “Need to leave if you’re going to be harassing my loyal customers like that.”
Jack gripped your hand as you quietly pulled her towards the truck. She was dead silent as you put your bag in the backseat and slumped over the steering wheel. “You okay?” You asked softly, not wanting to startle Jack.
She shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “I just wanna go home,” she said thickly, voice wavering.
It took all of your willpower not to pull over when Jack’s crying didn’t stop, and when you were finally home, you immediately closed the distance between you and Jack, holding her tight against you. She collapsed into your arms, burying her face in your shoulder and sobbing. You rubbed her back, silently curing the man in the store.
“Jack?” You said, still holding Jack close. “You know I love you, right? No matter what.”
“But-“
“No.” You pulled away, putting your hands on Jack’s shoulders and making her look at you. “No! I love you, no ifs, ands, or buts. I will always be by your side Jack. I don’t care who you are or what you look like. I love you for you.”
Jack bowed her head, face hidden by her hair. “You’re sure?” She asked, voice so small you almost didn’t hear her.
“I’m sure,” you said. “C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s more comfortable than the bench seat of your old ass truck.”
Jack stood, following you into the house. She trudged up the stairs, still holding your hand as she went. When you dropped the grocery bag by the bedroom door and tugged Jack inside, she didn’t protest, only looked at you, slightly confused.
“I was going to wait until your birthday, because I know Statesman insists on that huge birthday gala for you,” you said, sitting Jack in her vanity. “But I think you should have this now.”
Jack watched you enter your closet, growing more confused by the second. “What is it?”
“Close your eyes,” you said, grabbing a hangar. “It’s a surprise!”
When you peeked out of the closet, Jack had her hands over her eyes, waiting patiently. You hung the hangar on the back of the closet door, smoothing out the garment and moving to stand behind Jack. You took her wrists gently in your hands, smiling. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Jack said, leaning back against your chest.
You pulled Jack’s hands off her eyes. She gasped almost immediately, seeing the intricate and gorgeous dress hanging in front of her.
“Happy early birthday,” you said. “I had Ginger help me with things like measurements, but it’s 100% custom made. I figured since you didn’t have a dress for your birthday party, I could get you one. What do you think?”
Jack was speechless, turning around to hug you. “I love it,” she said, voice tight with emotion. “It’s perfect.”
You smiled, kissing Jack’s cheek. “Every woman should have a fancy evening dress that makes her feel like royalty. Wanna try it on?”
Jack was incredibly eager to put the dress on. You ushered her into the bathroom, carrying the dress and handing it to her as she ducked behind a privacy divider.
“Oh my god!” You heard her say after you heard the zipper pulling shut. “It fits perfectly!”
“Do you want shoes?” You asked, still not peeking around the divider.
Jack was quiet for a minute. “Yeah. Those white ones.”
You knew exactly what she was talking about and grabbed the aforementioned white shoes. Handing them to Jack, you waited while she finished getting dressed, barely managing to contain your patience. When you finally heard her heels on the tile, you looked up, fully breathless as Jack stepped out from behind the divider.
She was gorgeous. The dress hugged her in all the right places, conforming to the curve of her waist and the slope of her hips as if it were a second skin. The heart shaped neckline and thin straps showed off what you and Ginger had both agreed was a very professional amount of skin, but still enough to make Jack feel sexy. The top of the dress was beaded with shimmering beads, each one catching the light and making Jack seem positively radiant. Even with minimal makeup and her hair haphazardly tossed up, she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
“Oh Jack,” you said, standing in front of her. “I don’t- I can’t. You look. I don’t even have the words to say how beautiful you are.”
Jack smiled, swishing the dress. “I love it,” she said softly. “Thank you. I feel like a princess.”
“You look like a queen,” you breathed, putting your hands on Jack’s sides. “God above you look stunning.”
You two stood there for a while, just holding each other, until Jack pulled away to take the dress off. You watched her go, silently gathering her pyjamas, knowing she’d want them. When you were done, you headed out of the bedroom, intent on putting away the groceries that had been left out in your eagerness to show Jack her dress.
Jack came trailing down the stairs after ten minutes, wearing her Hello Kitty pyjama pants and an old Statesman distillery shirt that was a size too big. You kissed her and handed her a bag of apples as she entered the kitchen. “Put these away please?”
“Sure thing,” Jack said, moving around you to put the apples in the fruit bowl. “Can you grab my medicine?”
You reached around Jack and grabbed her estrogen bottle and a syringe. She hopped up on the counter, tugging up one of her pant legs to give you easier access to her thigh. After having been shot multiple times, often fatally, needles were something Jack didn’t even blink at. Giving Jack her estrogen had been something you’d had to work up to in the first year, but now you could do it with ease.
“Ready?” You asked, holding up the syringe. “Three, two,” you pushed the syringe into Jack’s leg. “One!”
Jack made a face at you as you disposed of the syringe and pressed a Disney princess bandaid to the tiny puncture wound. “Your bedside manor is horrible. Could’ve at least waited until you said one to stick me.”
You laughed. “You say that every time!” You said, taking Jack’s hands and helping her off the counter. “Bake Off or Friends?”
“Can we watch Friends?” Jack asked eagerly, following you to the couch and grabbing the TV remote. “I’m in the mood to laugh.”
“We can watch Friends,” you said, snuggling up next to Jack. “I’ll never say no to Friends.”
While Jack cued up the show, you fell against her shoulder, already feeling sleepy. In a few hours, you’d have to get up and make dinner, and Jack probably had a report to write on her mission, but for now, it was completely calm in the house.
At some point during the second episode you watched, you must’ve fallen asleep, because one minute, you were sleepily watching Friends, and the next, you were opening your eyes to Jack holding two bowls of her famous cowboy mac-and-cheese. You sat upright, accepting the bowl with a small pout. “I was gonna make dinner.”
“But you didn’t,” Jack pointed out, sitting beside you and taking a bite. “I swear, this gets better and better the more I make it.”
“Don’t tell Tequila,” you said. “He would kill a man for this bowl of food.”
Jack laughed. “He would,” she agreed. “Did you have a good day today?”
“My girlfriend came home,” you said sweetly. “Of course I had a good day. What about you?”
“Hm,” Jack hummed, pretending to think. “Well, I got to see my beautiful partner again, so that was good. But then a raging asshole yelled at me, and that was bad. But the dress made up for it, so all in all, a good day.”
You smiled, leaning against Jack and gesturing to the TV. “I’m glad you had a good day. More Friends to finish it off?”
“You know me so well,” Jack said happily, taking the remote again. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” you said, turning your attention mostly to the TV. “No matter what.”
#Kingsman#kingsman the golden circle#agent whiskey#jack 'whiskey' daniels#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#Pedro Pascal#My writing#writer wednesday#jey's pride celebration 2k21
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Between the Stars [Pt.7]
Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader
Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death
A/N: This might be my favorite chapter yet. Bucky is soft, and I love him. Reminder because I know the timeline for this fic is confusing with switching between readers and Bucky's POV, we are eight months past Steve's death. Bucky has been home with her for seven. Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky for looking this chapter over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.
***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****
Eight months after Steve’s death, Y/n was playing again. It wasn’t on the same scale as it once was and she was no longer teaching, not that it mattered. It was a big deal, Bucky didn’t downplay just how huge this was. She had given up, threw out her dreams in search of new ones as some misguided form of punishment; maybe she thought it was her penance for some terrible crime she convinced herself she committed by living. Bucky understood that feeling better than most, he really did, but she had nothing to atone for. The only one who needed absolution was Bucky and he hoped that by helping her get her life back, he was earning a tiny bit of forgiveness for everything he had done.
Nothing would ever completely absolve him, but he prayed this would help to even the scales.
Over the last month, Y/n hasn’t mentioned Steve as much. Bucky didn’t know if that was because she was starting to heal or if it hurt too much to keep talking about him. She still slept in his room most nights, only slightly closer to him now, her foot usually wrapped around his ankle and Steve’s pillow was no longer hugging her back -- it was still there every night though. A handful of nights she fell asleep on the couch watching trashy late-night television and Bucky didn’t know if he should pick her up and carry her to bed. Was it too intimate of a gesture? Should he touch her that way? And if he did what bed would he take her to? It wasn’t something he was ready to test and he wouldn’t risk the potential hurt the wrong move could make. So he let her sleep, and stayed close by, sleeping on the small window bench nearby in case she needed him.
Things began to resemble something better, calmer and there was a bit of normalcy returning. They even started going out. It began with small outings, a trip or two to the market, or down to the Mexican restaurant twenty minutes away for takeout. A few Fridays back, they spent the entire day at one of those you-pick farms a couple of hours away from the house. She told him she wanted to go get peaches. Bucky wasn’t about to tell her no or tell her that they could pick some up at the grocery store without the hassle of having to pick them off a tree. No, he wouldn’t do that. This was a big step for her; she wanted to go out, and well, she’s so damn pretty when she’s smiling.
The farm was enormous for the area, sitting at around 200 acres. They had blueberries, pumpkins, peaches, and strawberries. Some of the produce wasn’t ready to pick, but Bucky knew Y/n was planning their next trip as soon as the seasons changed, and he really didn’t mind. They had a petting zoo they found upon arrival, at which point Y/n squealed over the baby goats, and they spent some forty-odd minutes feeding them. Then Bucky spent the next hour talking her out of having a baby goat of her own. Okay, Bucky would get her a damn goat if she really wanted one, but he was praying she would forget about it on the drive home. There was a hay maze that was still in the process of being prepped for the upcoming season but Y/n’s eyes lit up at the mere thought.
The food had to be Y/n’s favorite most of all.
There were candied peach slices that she had been so excited about. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh when Y/n had a bite with too much of the ginger that was sprinkled on top and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She glared at him, but it only made him grin wider. They both tried the vanilla scones with fresh peach jam and shared a large Mason jar full of peach iced tea because she said it was silly to spend the extra money when they could share. One sip and all Bucky could think about was the sweetness on his lips is what she would taste like.
Maybe the food had been Bucky’s favorite part, too.
The sun was starting to set, and despite being forced to leave the goats behind thanks to closing, Y/n was still smiling. Bucky followed behind her, letting her lead him to whatever tree she deemed had the best peaches. Y/n delicately placed three more peaches in the pail he was carrying and then set her eyes on him, scrutinizing and somehow still playful. She stepped towards him and flicked the bill of his NASA ball cap, causing it to pop up and sit crooked on his head, and she grinned at the feigned look of annoyance he was giving her.
“I can’t see your face when you wear a cap.”
She told him that as if it was an excuse for her assault on his favorite hat.
“Well, I’m trying to hide my stupid looking hair.”
She giggled at that.
Y/n giggled, and the little bit of his heart that didn’t belong to her became hers. She leaned in, and if he was a stupider man, he would have thought she was going to kiss him by the look in her eyes and how close their lips were. Y/n slowly reached up and pulled his hat off his head only to plop it on top of her own. If she was his, he would have pulled her close and claimed those pretty lips, savoring the honeyed peach and candied ginger he knew was still lingering on her tongue as he took his sweet time tasting her. He would have kissed her until she was smiling and giggling and sighing in that soft way she does when she’s really happy.
She wasn’t his. So he didn’t.
But he would dream about what it would be like if she was.
“Looks better on me anyway,” Y/n told him with a grin, wandering off towards the next row of trees.
Bucky could only watch as she walked away with his hat and his heart. He mumbled quietly to the peaches hanging nearby, “Yes, it does.”
After their outing, their day trips became something they both looked forward to. It wasn’t their norm. In the past, they spent a lot of their time watching movies, sitting in the quiet enjoying each other’s company, or Bucky would read while she played and worked on her music. But this new normal was good, too. It was nice to see more than the seafoam green walls of her living room, and he would do just about anything if it made her happy.
“Hey.”
Bucky looked up from his spot on the couch to find Y/n standing next to him in those black skinny jeans that make his knees weak and a plain white t-shirt. He knew she was wearing that black lace bra of hers because he could make out the imprint of the lace against the delicate fabric of her shirt, and he recognized the design from an embarrassing mix-up on laundry day. Bucky couldn’t seem to find his voice so he met her gaze, a question lingering in his own eyes as he waited for her to spill whatever she was so excited about.
“Wanna take me out?”
He laughed softly and closed the book in his hand. He found it funny that she still asked him that. The answer would always be yes. For her, it’s always yes.
“I’ll take you wherever you wanna go, Y/n.”
They went out to dinner that night. It wasn’t anything lavish, but it was the right amount of rowdy. There was a band playing out on the patio and the music carried through the open doors to where they shared a small booth inside, it was loud but not so they couldn’t talk. She ordered pasta because pasta always makes her happy, and Bucky tries his hardest to make sure she’s happy. They talked a lot, well, she talked a lot. That wouldn’t be so strange if she hadn’t been so closed off the last eight months.
Bucky let her talk about how she wanted to see if the band had any shows soon because she wanted to see them play in a better venue, and she told him she liked lights the restaurant had above the tables -- a large beam with hanging Edison bulbs wrapped around them. She talked about the funny picture of him Sam posted on Instagram. Bucky had rolled his eyes at that. Sam had the bad habit of taking candid photos of everyone, and he always posted the worst ones of Bucky. This one happened to be from the worst possible angle; the camera caught his mouth hanging wide open as Bucky took a bite out half of a cheese pizza, folded over and covered in potato chips. Some people eat pizza that way, it wasn’t weird or funny, and Bucky stood by that. The night was perfect, but even perfection has a few cracks if you look hard enough.
Someone had mistaken them for a couple that night, and Bucky was quick to correct them. He informed the older man and his wife that she was his best friend, she was taken by another lucky man. It was all platonic Bucky had said. Y/n didn’t say anything. She watched Bucky charm the older couple and gave them a friendly smile and a wave as they walked away.
“Platonic,” she muttered quietly once it was just them again.
Bucky looked up from his half-eaten burger and ketchup soaked fries, took in the furrow of her brow, and the frown sitting where a smile was beaming only a few moments ago, and his heart sank.
None of that was good.
“Yeah, Trouble.”
Bucky’s eyes dropped to the wedding band she was still wearing without meaning to, and she quickly pulled her hand under the table. The rest of dinner was quiet, and they didn’t speak about it again.
--
They never talked about what happened at the farm or dinner that night, but whatever bothered her the night at the restaurant hadn’t caused a setback in the healing process as Bucky had feared. It seemed forgotten. Bucky was thankful for that, and he was thankful for days like today. Y/n wanted to spend the day at home, relaxing. She informed him that today would be perfect if she could spend the day with just him. She might have said something like, “I just want to spend today curled up on the couch watching movies with you.” Not that Bucky memorized the way her voice sounded when she said that or anything.
Three movies into their marathon and Y/n declared they needed a break. She was going to figure out something to eat for dinner, and Bucky wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself upstairs, staring at a ghost. The letters Steve gave him have been tucked away in a drawer of the old desk that sat in the corner of his room. They caused him more heartache than Steve intended Bucky was sure. Or maybe this was exactly what Steve wanted. This was his punishment for loving her. Bucky tapped the letter on the desk and ran a hand down his face, Bucky had hoped they would disappear, and he wouldn’t have to look at them again, but there all twelve sat.
A heavy-handed fist pounded on the front door, startling Bucky out of his trance and his stomach dropped at the sound. He wasn’t down there with Y/n, not that she needed him to answer the door, and lord knows if she knew he dared to even think about babying her like that, she would chew him out for a week straight. Still, he didn’t like leaving her completely on her own, not yet. Bucky tossed the letter back in the drawer, and hastily closed it before trampling downstairs.
Bucky made out a familiar voice as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Well, you never answer your phone anymore, and I figured you were spending all your time with-”
Her father met Bucky’s eyes, and he grinned.
“-Bucky. Well, shit, son. It’s good to see you home.”
Bucky grinned and took the hand that was extended towards him. He hadn’t expected it to be her father at the door; he thought Sam or maybe Natasha. It made sense, though. No one has come by to check on her since he’s been home. It was about time they started to get visitors, and Y/n didn’t answer her phone much anymore, so if someone wanted to talk to her showing up like this was their only choice. Bucky knew she wasn’t doing that on purpose, she had to put some things off in order to keep going, and there wasn’t any shame in that.
He was doing the very same thing.
Y/n was uncomfortable, whether her dad knew Bucky wasn’t sure. Bucky knew, though. She hates small talk, so Bucky knew when Y/n said she was starting the grill, she just wanted a moment to breathe without being judged; a minute so she could prepare mentally for a guest when she didn’t want one. Bucky could keep her dad busy until she was ready for idle chit chat and undoubtedly Invasive questions. How hard could it be to keep up a conversation and look for a small fire on the porch?
He could handle it; smoke meant they had to run. It would be fine.
“I thought you would’ve stopped by before now.”
Bucky passed over an amber-colored bottle from the fridge, taking a beer for himself and leaned against the counter. It probably wasn’t proper or how Steve would entertain him, but Bucky wasn’t Steve. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about that. This was still Steve’s house and his wife, no matter how much Bucky wished this life was his.
“Well, I knew she was in good hands. She has you.”
He smiled but shook his head. “I appreciate that. She’s probably helping me more than I’m helping her.”
“I doubt that.”
Bucky caved under the weight of his stare and grudgingly nodded his head in agreement (or cession depending on who you ask). He has yet to win an argument with her dad, and Bucky wasn't about to try to now.
"We haven't had a chance to talk since you've been home. I've meaning to come by. Y'know how much we love Steve; we always have."
Bucky tried to keep his face impassive, his grip on the bottle in his hand tightened, and he could feel his stomach-churning. Where the hell was this going?
“He was a good man and a good husband. Took care of Y/n, made sure she was happy and was always respectful.”
Bucky relaxed some when he realized he was simply praising his lost friend, and he nodded, taking a swig of his beer to wash his guilt down. Yeah, that was Steve. The polished side of the coin. The hero, not the broken sidekick.The better of the two. Bucky heard the speech before; it was one truth he knew well.
“But I always thought it was going to be you.”
Bucky froze and by some small miracle managed to keep his face blank as the older man went on, “Even up to the day of the wedding I had this feeling one of the girls were going to come running in, flowers in their hair to tell me she ran off with you and the wedding was off.”
Bucky huffed. “She would never do that.”
Her dad smiled and nodded his agreement. “She wouldn’t, but you would have.”
Bucky licked his lips and dropped his gaze to the counter, not risking the chance the truth could be seen in his eyes. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t think about it after Steve proposed. That he didn’t let it play out like some romantic drama in his head where he got to her just in time and told her the truth, the whole real, painful truth, and she loved him back all along.
But she didn’t. She loved Steve, still did.
It was obvious any time Steve was mentioned or when something reminded her of him. He could see it written all over her how much she still loved Steve, and Bucky couldn’t blame her. He still loved Steve too. Despite everything, Bucky loved them both.
“Give her time to work through her grief, and I’m guessing you need to deal with your own. Losing someone you love is never easy. The time will come though when you both can move on. I’m not saying you’ll do that together or that I think you should, but there may be the chance to in the future. If you were looking for hope of some sort, well, that’s the best I can offer you.”
Y/n had found her way back into the kitchen, no smoke in sight and their conversation ended there. It wasn’t one Bucky wanted to continue anyway. Not when the hope he was offering didn’t exist. Bucky tried to leave them alone so she could spend alone time with her dad, but she gave him the look, the one that pleaded with him to stay and tugged on his heart. So he stayed by her side until the stars were shining brightly and they were alone once again.
Bucky had been more careful with his affection after that. He was meaningful in his touch and waited to make sure he meant each one. Not that it was that hard to do, he meant every one. When it came to Y/n, everything Bucky did had meaning, a purpose.
Y/n had started asking him to go on a walk around sunset every night. It was getting cooler out now that autumn was right around the corner, and she liked to watch how everything around them changed -- slowly almost without notice.
Their walk tonight felt different. Things had changed between them, when Bucky didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what they had changed to, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was afraid if he did, she would realize her mistake, and all these small moments between them would stop. Halfway through their walk, Y/n had let her hands hang by her side instead of staying crossed over her chest. When they were kids, she would do that when she wanted Bucky to hold her hand, or maybe he imagined that she ever truly wanted to hold his hand.
Bucky never could figure her out.
He never knew what she meant when she would lean in close to whisper something in his ear and pull away just as fast. When she would tease him and give him that giggle that had his heart stopping and restarting like an old engine that was about to give out. He could never tell if she felt something beyond what they already were; if she wanted him the way he wanted her.
Her street was just up the hill, and Bucky finally gave in to the screaming in his chest because feeling her hand in his once more was all he could think about. He slowly slid his fingertips down her forearm until he reached her palm. He risked a peek at her as he laced their fingers together and caught the smile she was trying to hide by dropping her head to gaze down to her white high-tops and his black boots.
Bucky didn’t know if Y/n wanted to hold his hand, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he knew her as well as he thought, but he sure did love that smile.
Previous // Next
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#past!Steve Rogers x reader#alternate universe#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#tw: death of a spouse#tw: military death#military au#tw: character death
633 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thanksgiving is Gonna Be Weird: A Survival Guide for 2020
It’s 2020, the pandemic is worse than ever, and the holidays are right around the corner. No matter what, this is going to be a weird Thanksgiving for a lot of people. With travel restrictions in place and most of us having a mighty desire not to murder our friends and family by spreading around a disease, there’s a good chance that you’re going to be celebrating a bit differently this year.
And, hey, maybe you decide not to celebrate at all. Which is perfectly valid!
But maybe you’re staring down the possibility of your first Thanksgiving on your own, or feeding just the small group you live for rather than a big crowd, or some other unusual circumstance. And if that’s the case, I wanted to compile together some resources/ideas to help you out. I know this isn’t my usual horror fare, but...well, I hope it’s helpful, regardless.
“Help, I’ve Never Made Thanksgiving Dinner Before” Starter Kit
Maybe you’ve always gone home for the holidays but are currently stuck in an apartment with a few roommates, and none of you have any intensive cooking skills. Maybe you always take the kids to Grandma’s house and have never had to contribute more than a side dish but now really want to do a proper Thanksgiving feast for your partner(s), kid(s) and whoever else lives in your house.
Never fear! A Thanksgiving feast doesn’t have to be intimidating! In fact, Thanksgiving foods are usually pretty simple; the most challenging part of the whole feast is the project management aspect of working with a lot of different dishes and getting everything ready at once. But the smaller your crowd to feed, the easier that is!
So, the first thing you’ll want to do is come up with a menu. Sit down and write a list of all the foods you normally eat and enjoy on Thanksgiving. If something is served at your family meal that you’ve never cared for, guess what? You can boot that bad boy right off the list!
By and large, the standard Thanksgiving feast consists of:
Roast turkey
Mashed potatoes
Gravy
Some kind of dinner roll
Cranberry sauce
Some number of vegetable side dishes (often a green been casserole and a sweet potato casserole)
Some kind of dessert (often/traditionally a pumpkin pie)
I’ve linked above some easy & favorite techniques/recipes for all of these foods, but of course you can buy time-saving convenience items to get you rolling -- from potato flakes to gravy mix to premade pie. I won’t tell if you don’t.
If there’s something you’re used to eating every year that you don’t know how to make....call whoever usually makes it! If at all possible, obviously, I’m not recommending you do a seance to talk to your dead great-aunt and get her rolls recipe. Just, like...phone up your friend/family member, get the recipe, and use it as an opportunity to connect. Odds are both of you are missing the human interaction.
“Hey, That’s Nice, But I Live in a Dorm Room” Edition
Okay, okay, I get it. You’re away at college and can’t get home to see your family safely and you’re living in some kind of weird socially isolated dorm situation where you have limited access to cooking implements. Or, shit, idk, maybe you’re couch-surfing or living in a motel or otherwise not in possession of a full kitchen.
I got you, fam.
Do you have at your disposal a microwave? Rice cooker? Even an electric kettle will work!
If you have some way to boil water, you can make instant mashed potatoes, gravy, and stove-top stuffing. If you have a microwave, you can steam some vegetables and bake a sweet potato. For dessert, core an apple, stuff the cavity with brown sugar + cinnamon + butter and nuke in the microwave for 4 minutes.
It’s hypothetically possible to microwave a turkey, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Instead, I’d opt to buy a deli roast chicken (about $5 at most grocery stores), or even just some turkey deli meat. Alternatively, ham usually just needs to be warmed rather than cooked, and you can buy a big ol’ ham steak at the store for a couple of bucks.
“I’m Dead Broke Because COVID, Send Help”
You know the great thing about Thanksgiving food? It’s cheap. No, really! It can be, anyway, especially since a lot of foods go on sale.
In my area anyway, the local Wal-Mart and Smith’s Grocery have:
A can of green beans for about 79 cents
A bag of instant mashed potatoes for about $1
A big can of yams for about $1, or fresh yams for 50 cents/lb (usually a couple sweet potatoes = 1lb)
Canned corn or peas + corn for 50 cents, or steam-in-bag veggies of your choice for $1
Stovetop stuffing for $1 or sometimes even 50 cents per box
Margarine for 79 cents to $1
Gravy mix packets for 50 cents each
A can of cranberry sauce for $1 or less
Most of these are also available at Dollar Tree!
A lot of food banks will also be giving out turkeys this time of year, and some grocery stores will give you a free turkey if you spend $50 or $100 on groceries or whatever. Do you have an older relative who needs groceries? Ask if you can go buy their food and deliver it to their door (contactless!) and keep the free turkey.
You can pretty easily feed a group of 4-6 for $20 or so, especially if you’re willing to be flexible on your protein. And what are you doing feeding more than 6 people in the middle of a pandemic, huh?
“I’m Used to Hosting a Big Dinner But There’s Only Like Three Of Us Living In This House WTF How Do I Scale This Shit Down”
Maybe you are a Thanksgiving veteran. Maybe you’re accustomed to hosting for a big crowd and cooking a small meal just seems dumb and pointless. I feel you. This is my life right now! But don’t despair!
The way I see it, you’ve got a couple-three options:
Option One:
Cook your turkey + a different side each day, and eat your Thanksgiving feast spread out over a week or so. It’ll keep your leftovers from dominating your fridge, let you eat something fresh, and allow you to enjoy all your favorite recipes. Downside is you’ll have to cook every day, so you tell me if you’re too busy to do that.
Option Two:
Cook everything that you normally would, but portion off half of it or whatever to stuff into your freezer, or go deliver it to somebody else’s door. The odds are pretty good that you’ve got a friend or family member who is freaking out about the holiday, and if you can’t see them in person, you can at least drop food off on their porch and then honk aggressively/cheerfully from the safety of your car!
Option Three:
Make something different this year. If you’re a foodie, take this as an opportunity to challenge yourself to create something high-maintenance and weird that you wouldn’t normally make. This is a good choice if you’re off work and stuck in your house with nothing else to do. Basically you’re subbing out quantity for quality so the meal still feels special and unique even if it’s, y’know....just you and your cat, or whoever.
PS: Roasting a whole chicken or a cornish game hen is a fun, small-scale way to get your bird-in-the-oven experience. You can also buy a turkey breast and just cook that, which will be a lot faster than the whole bird anyway.
"I’m An Essential Worker And I’m Working Thanksgiving And Have No Time To Do ANYTHING, What Now?”
Dude, I get it. And whether you’re a doctor, nurse, grocery store employee, or whatever other essential service-worker, my heart goes out to you because hoo boy this year has been shit, hasn’t it? I can’t do anything about the hazard pay situation, but I CAN tell you that there are a few places offering delivery-based Thanksgiving meal options!
You might want to search around a bit for your specific area. Cracker Barrel, Marie Callendar’s, Boston Market, and other types of branded “home-cooking” type restaurants tend to have some kind of Thanksgiving thing. Why not call your local restaurant fav to see if they’re doing something similar? Most restaurants are desperate for a way to stay afloat right now, so a ton of places that don’t traditionally deliver are offering curbside service now. It’s worth a try!
So, there you have it.
I hope some of these tips taught you something new, pointed you to a helpful resource, or gave you some ideas. More than anything, I just want everybody to be safe and happy this holiday. So, please -- get creative, wear your mask while you’re shopping, avoid the get-togethers, and be careful. You may save a life!
#holidays#thanksgiving#covid 19#PSA#cooking#food#tips#I hope this helps someone#please reblog if I missed anything#long post
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eden's Gate: Left Behind Chapter 1 - Welcome to Hope County
A new series!!!. Take place 2 years before the events of Kidnapped.
I created "Hope County University" for this series, and a few other locations that aren't in the game. Because its all headcanon shit.
Warnings: None
Word count: 1.9k
John Seed slightly out of character. (That's what happens when you encounter a Winchester 😂😂)
*********************************
Hope County, Montana, February 2018
*Arizona by Hey Monday plays on the radio*
A black 1970 Monte Carlo with a small trailer attached to it drives down the road with an Arizona license plate on it "ARIZONA E34R90D".
19 year old Kate Winchester, who just moved out of her aunt and uncle's house drove 7 hours from Jackson, Wyoming to Hope County, Montana. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel to song.
Starting her new life, leaving the hunter life behind her, she applied and got accepted at Hope County University.
Hoping to get her Master of Science degree in Psychology, and then move on to get her Doctorate Degree.
Luckily her aunt and uncle were able to cover her tuition for the whole year. She even told them that she was willing to pay her own rent, and which surprisingly is only $750 a month. Hell her rent is cheaper here, than Arizona and Wyoming put together, but of course they're willing to pay for it, even though she refused, so she saves some money there.
She’s been attending college since she was 15 years old. She lied about her age to get a head start, with the help of her aunt Laura, and her grandmother Eliza. She attended community college in Wyoming before wanting to get transferred out of state.
She was able to rent out a small 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom house with a decent size backyard that is owned by the University, which is why the rent is pretty cheap usually it costs a lot more, and she also got a job at the University's café & diner with starting pay at $14.50. To her that seems very unrealistic but she’ll take it, she ain’t complaining.
She drives down the road with her dog Haley in the passenger seat with her head out the window trying to bite the wind as they drive down the road.
"Smell that fresh Montana air Hale" she says with a smile, Haley pulls her head back in and lets out a bark, her eyes widened and has that look like she's smiling.
You know that look dogs do with their tongues hanging out making them look like they're smiling.
Driving down the road, off on the side, a huge billboard sign with a photo of some man with the caption.
“We Love You and We Will Take You”
"That's very welcoming" she jokes.
Kate turns onto a small side road that leads to her new home.
She drives slowly, while looking at the GPS on her phone.
After a few minutes she finds the house.
"Here it is" she says, pulling into the driveway.
Shutting off the car, and getting out.
"Come on Hale" she says, padding her thigh.
She takes the house keys out of her pocket, and opens the door.
It's a decent size house for someone who's living on their own, the house is slightly furnished. Her uncle Brent sent some of their old furniture to her new house.
A coffee table, a few chairs, few lamps, a night stand, and a full size bed with the frame, head, footboard, mattress and box spring.
The backyard is bigger than she thought. She opens the door, and lets Haley out to the back.
"Go sniff around" she tells her.
The 2 1/2 year old German Shepherd sniffs the corners of the fence, looking for a spot to do her business.
Kate goes back inside, leaving the backdoor open for Haley.
She checks out the rest of the house, the 2 bedrooms, the bathroom and washroom, luckily a washer and dryer comes with the place. So at least she wouldn't want to buy it.
She goes back to the living room, and sees that Haley came back inside.
She goes to close the backdoor, locking it, she heads out to the front and unpacks her trailer. Boxes, boxes and boxes of her stuff, clothes, books, her WiFi router, personal hygiene products, small furniture, stuff for school, some groceries she has in her mini fridge, some of Haley's stuff, her toys and food.
She finishes unpacking around 3:30pm, her room is all set up, her bed is fixed, all her clothes are put away in the closet and dresser, she has photos of her friends, family and posters of bands she likes hanging up on the walls.
She set up her 60inch TV, the box and WiFi router in the living room, she put up curtains on all the windows, and put some plants out on the front porch.
She has all of her hunter stuff in the 2nd bedroom, her angel blades, demon blades, holy water, bags of salt, her books, her dad’s journal. Bullets filled with rock salt, and all of her other hunting supplies.
She has everything set up, and all she needed now was a kitchen table, a couch and maybe some appliances like a microwave, toaster and a coffee maker.
She sighs in relief, lays back on her bed, Haley jumps on, laying next to her.
"You wanna go into town?!?" she asks the dog, she looks at her while tilting her head to the right.
"You wanna go for a walk?!?" she asks again, she tilts her head to the left while still looking at her. She lets out a loud bark which catches Kate off guard, and jumps off the bed.
Running back and forth down the hall, jumping at her on the bed in excitement.
She gets up from the bed.
"Okay let me find your leash" she says, while going into the living room.
She goes through some of her boxes.
After a few minutes, she finds her leash and puts it on her collar. Debating whether or not to take her in the car, or walk into town.
"It's only a 10-20 minute walk from here to town" she says out loud.
After a couple of minutes, she decides to drive, just in case some stores don't allow animals in, she can leave Haley in the car with all the windows down of course, or maybe leave her outside.
They drive into town, and she parks her car next to a gas station store.
"Come one Hale" she says.
She jumps out of the car, Kate locks it up and they walk past the small shops.
A grocery store, a pharmaceutical store, a gun shop, an autoshop, and lastly a bar called "The Spread Eagle".
She looks around, and sees an appliance store, she really does need those appliances.
She walks closer, and sees a sign on the door saying "Sorry, no animals allowed inside".
"Of course" she says to herself.
She ties Haley's leash to a parking meter under a tree
"I'll be right back" she says to her, petting her head.
She goes inside the store and looks around. Right off the bat she finds a toaster with 4 slots, and it costs $30 in which to her is a steal.
She finds a coffee maker and a microwave all that costs a decent amount, less than she thought it would be.
She pays for her stuff, and goes back outside to untie Haley, they walk back to the car, and put the appliances in the backseat covering them with a blanket.
They continue to walk around the small town of Falls End located in the Holland Valley region. They cross the street to go onto the opposite side. Up ahead Kate sees a small group of people walking into a church on the other side of the street. Thinking nothing of it.
While on the other side of the street at Falls End Church, John Seed is standing outside of it holding the Book of Joseph, preaching.
"Sin must be exposed so it may be absolved. We must wash away our past" while some of his men escort some locals into the church.
"You will know the power of Yes, you will confess your sins" he continues.
As he looks around he sees Kate with Haley walking on the opposite side of the street.
He stares at her as she walks by, a smirk appears on his face. Perhaps he is engrossed by her?. He gets a weird feeling in his stomach but he ignores it.
He continues to watch her as she walks further down the street away from the church.
He shakes his head, snapping out of that trance, and continues to preach to the sinners.
Kate walks down the street towards a different market. Once again they don't allow animals in the store.
So she ties Haley to a small iron fence in the shade "I'll be back'" she tells her again.
She shops for about 25 minutes, she doesn't like to keep her dog outside that long especially out in public, she grabs bread, eggs, orange juice, fruit, cereal, milk, breakfast sausages, bacon, dog treats, grounded coffee and butter.
Typical stuff you would buy at a grocery store.
She pays for her stuff, goes outside, unties Haley putting the leash around her wrist.
"Here you can hold your treats" she says, as she gives Haley her bag of Beggin Strips.
She carries it in her mouth making the bags less heavy for Kate, and they head back to the car. They cross the street, now walking on the church side. John steps out of it, and sees Kate walking towards the church.
He gets a better look at her, she's really cute. Actually she’s more than cute, she’s beautiful. Black hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, looks like she could be 19-22 years old?. Could she be a college student?. He's about to say something to her, but it gets ruined when one of his men calls out for him.
"John!!" they call out.
Turning his head to look back at him.
He quickly looks back at Kate who is too far for him to call out to her.
He rolls his eyes in annoyance, and goes back inside the church to see what they want.
Kate walks back to her car, and puts her groceries in the back seat.
Haley jumps into the front seat, and they drive off.
They get stopped at a red light in front of the church, John looks out the window, and sees a black 70 Monte Carlo with a German Shepard sticking its head out the window.
He quickly recognizes the dog, and sees Kate in the driver seat.
Quickly, he goes outside before the light turns green. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he yells out "Nice car!!".
Kate can't see who yelled it because Haley is blocking her view from the passenger side, and is barking at some of the peggies outside the church.
So she yells back, "Thank you!!" followed with a honk of the horn. She in a way acknowledged John even if she didn't really see him.
She continued to drive down the road heading back home.
After a 10 minute drive, she makes it home, and puts all her groceries away, hooks up the appliances and sits back on one of her chairs for the rest of the day watching TV with Haley chilling at her feet.
“What a day Hale” she says, resting her feet on the table.
*3 in half hours later*
That night John is baptizing, cleansing some sinners, making them a step closer to being a part of Eden’s Gate. He’s doing his usual thing, making sure they are cleansed, and washed away from their sins.
He can’t seem to get Kate off his mind, he finds this very strange because these are some new feelings, that he has never felt before.
After he finishes the baptism, Joseph notices something is off about his younger brother.
He approaches him once he’s finished.
“John?!” he says, approaching him. “What is troubling you brother?”.
John doesn’t know what to say, he stumbles with his words “Nothing, Joseph”.
He places his hand on John's shoulder, their foreheads touching.
“It’s about a girl, isn’t it?” he asks, sounding like he already knew what this was all about.
John looks down, and lets out a soft sigh.
“Go to her. She can be your other half, when we cross Eden’s Gate” he tells him, before walking away.
John looks up at his older brother as he walks away, leaving him to contemplate with what he should do next.
#far cry 5#john seed#kate winchester#john seed x kate winchester#far cry 5 fanfiction#eden's gate: left behind#my writings#my ocs#my oc kate winchester#john seed x oc#far cry 5 fanfic#far cry 5 oc#joseph seed#power of yes#fc5 john seed#fc5 fanfic
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Things about rural life I’ve had to get used to or have come to love:
- No food delivery. Most places won’t even have your zip code or it’s in a no deliver zone on account of how far/hard to find it is. I haven’t had delivered pizza in years now, we make our own which is actually cheaper, more customisable in size or thickness, and tastes better imo. Rosemary and basil mixed into the dough with spinach, various meats and fresh cheese. All with $8 worth of ingredients that can make at least three more full sized pizzas later. Yes!
- Learning to entertain myself. Don’t have a movie theater, mall or shopping center? A storm knocked out the power and no wifi? Sounds like a drag huh? Doesn’t have to be, I've learned to keep myself from getting bored by being more outside, picking up new hobbies, and working on projects around the house or learning to repair things. Plus, when the time comes I do go to the city, I’m actually excited to go to the bookstores, markets, malls and art stores. Makes you appreciate things more and turns an otherwise mundane thing into an event.
- Everything closes early, either by 6pm or 8pm. Whatever you gotta get from the store better be done in the daytime or you’ll have to make that long long two hour drive to the city on a highway that’s perched on a cliffside, not well lit and remote. If you get in trouble out there, well...you better hope a kind driver well pull over to help because there’s not even a highway patrol out there after dark. On the plus side, when they started doing curfews due to current events, nothing was changed. The only 24 hour places we have are a Pilot gas station, ATM and medical care building.
- Self serve fruit stands. They still run by the honor system which is such a rare thing these days. It comes in handy when I don’t want to go to the store to get groceries, and they usually have what I'm looking for, like squash, corn or carrots. As well as treats like strawberries and fresh pastries.
- Wild produce is a thing. They grow on property that’s left behind when people pass on or move away. Sweet potatoes, onions, asparagus, squash and pumpkins often regrow or resow themselves in abandoned gardens or spread toward the river and canals. Any trees like plums, apples and persimmons also grow on their own, having tapped into the water table. I’ve made it a habit to check on these wild gardens when I'm running low on staples, esp around the summer and fall. The local kids are the ones that pointed this out to me after I asked them where they got their produce.
- Walking at night and early morning. Being a city girl, I was amazed just how safe it is to walk out here, and you’ll see others do the same. Seems to be a social thing too, as neighbors will sometimes talk outside their driveway or walk and talk before parting ways to go back home. Heck I've slept outside on my front porch in a papasan, with no worry of something happening to me.
- Hotsprings! There’s many little hotsprings and bathhouses here with prices ranging from high to free. It’s mostly a colder weather thing for me, but sometimes I don’t mind slipping my feet into one after a long hike. During the winter, my family soaks in the hotsprings often. Nothing like watching the snow fall while half submerged in bubbling hot water.
- No street lamps. This is a double edged sword. It’s so dark out here and sometimes during the rains/snow makes it hard to see where you’re going, but the view of the stars more than makes up for it. Lack of light pollution has made me take up an interest in Astronomy and I have since viewed tons of sky events, as well as attended many star parties.
- The wildlife. While we don’t get bears, elk or bison, those tend to stick to the mountains, we do get mule deer, coyotes, foxes, hawks, raccoons, bobcats, river otters, beavers, snakes, quail, frogs, rabbits, cranes, turtles, coatis, and skunks. Living so rural I've had to get used to seeing my wild neighbors often and deal with them when they get a bit too close to my property. Usually fences and making a lot of noise does the trick.
- Animals in general. I never grew up by a farm. The only time I ever held a chick was during a school field trip. Now I live near a farm with a rooster that I hear every early morning, walking down a dirt path to the creek and seeing horses poke their heads toward me, seeing escaped goats as I drive on a backroad, and biking near beehives. Big bonus is that I get fresh eggs, goat milk for my lactose intolerant bro, honey and beeswax, and old leather scraps from saddlery. In all my life I never pictured myself living this way, but I wouldn’t trade it.
- Closer to my roots. My father was Coytero Apache, they were hunters and ranchers, NM is also native land. My mother’s father is from Aswan, Egypt, they were from a long line of agriculturists, mostly vineyards. I grow my own garden now and grapevines, I don’t hunt but I do wild forage, I'm also a lot closer to gatherings/powwows and native markets. I’m living a life very similar to my ancestors.
- Monsoons and blizzards. Okay so it’s not all sunshine. During the winter, we get snowed in, often for days and must prepare in the Fall accordingly. In the late summer, roads turn into rivers, playgrounds are underwater and rockslides are common on the highway. Good thing about this is just how lush everything gets, we don’t get a whole of mosquitoes due to a ton of dragonflies and the double rainbows are a big treat. Flooding is a headache but it’s tolerated, because wildfires are far more dangerous when it doesn’t rain enough.
- A small friendly community. Growing up I wasn’t used to knowing my neighbors at all, everyone kept to themselves which was dangerous when domestic/child abuse happened, or when someone was struggling with depression or financial issues. They all looked the other way. Here people look out for you, they help and share what they have. When I first moved in, I was still reeling from my trauma, I seriously appreciated having people help me adjust to my new home, move furniture and boxes in, as well as get donated food and items. It left such an impression on me and may have been a big part of my recovery. It’s also why I donate food and help out when I can now. Continuing the cycle.
- Seasonal events. I don’t really celebrate holidays, not because I hate them but because I didn’t grow up with them. My folks weren’t Americanized as much as my friends’ families were. Also they didn’t like how commercialized holidays had become. But we did celebrate seasons! There’s something like this here as well. While people still put up decor, the social pressure to celebrate isn’t strong, it’s there but only if you want to participate. This has lead to me celebrating in my own way, and I've timed a lot of them to the seasonal solstices. One big regional thing I participate in is Bonfire Season, which lasts from October to December. Lighting lanterns, candles and holding bonfire parties is a big cultural thing.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Reason To Believe Chapter 14
Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.
A Flip x OC Fic
Word Count: 3,817
Warnings: none
The night is gone
The light has come
A new day has begun
The weather is clear
And people are here
And morning's here
Calling everyone
(x)
The office is always a little quieter after an undercover mission is completed. Usually because the mountains of paperwork leave little time for chitchat. There was less of a busy feeling in the air though in the weeks after the explosion, it was more of simmering tension.
The case had been declared shut just a few days after the attack, but not because Ron or Flip felt it was done. Chief Bridges had made the declaration, finding the klan no longer posing a threat after the death of three members. It was bullshit and everyone knew it. To make things more outrageous, Bridges said he wanted everything to do with the case destroyed.
Flip was furious. He'd wound up walking out of the office before Bridges had stopped talking. This wasn't fair, this wasn't over. Just because three died doesn't mean there wasn't still a whole chapter in Colorado Springs left. Or that Duke wasn't still running hundreds of other chapters. No one was safer from anything happening.
Him and Ron barely looked at each other the rest of the day, both to angry to even talk about with with one another. The boxes that contained evidence were now siting next to his trash can, they weren't of any use to the case if there wasn't even going to be a case of record. The second he was off is shift he'd stormed out of the building, racing to get home.
He'd packed up some essentials from his house; clothes, documents, his photos and army memorabilia, and put it in the trunk of his car. With the organization knowing his residence, he couldn't live there anymore. He'd find a new place to live in the next few days, there were bound to be apartments with vacancies. In the meantime, he could rent a motel room or crash on Jimmy's couch, or something.
As he sat in his car, his mind wandered to Elle. At least this would give him more time to be with her. Maybe she'd let him spend the night more often, let him hold her close and tell him that things would work out.
He started his car and headed in the direction of her apartment. He'd probably get to her place before she got off work, but she didn't mind him hanging around there now. She gave him a key after all. He unlocked her front door, pulled a Coors from the fridge and sat on the couch, processing the days events.
Elle got home a half hour later. She was dressed in her shirt and pants with her necklace secured back around her neck with a new chain. She looked happy to see him, but her face feel after she saw his expression.
"Hey, is everything okay?" She pried off her shoes and sat beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"The chief closed the case even though he knows the organization is still a threat. He wants us to erase it from record. Everything about the klan must go," He mumbled. He knows he shouldn't tell her, but he doesn't give a fuck.
"What?" Her voice was full of shock, partially from the news and partially because he'd actually told her what was going on. "Why would he do that?"
"Who knows. But it's over, I gotta cut ties with the organization. And probably move because they know where I live now,"
"One, fuck your boss. He's an idiot and I'd give him a piece of my mind if you'd let me," She started.
"My boss can't know that you know about all this," He interjected.
"I know. But he's an idiot for shutting that down. You and Ron were doing great things." She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "And two, move in with me,"
"What?" He wasn't sure he heard her correctly.
"Move in with me, you practically live here anyways. There's enough room for two people, and I'm ready for it if you are,"
"Aren't you worried about what people are gonna say? What your landlord could say? Most people around here don't live together until they're married,"
"It's my apartment and there's nothing in my lease that says anything about it. I don't care what people will have to say, it's our life not theirs," She broke into a sly smile after her statement. "Besides, what are they gonna do? Call the cops?"
He cracked a smile and swooped her into a kiss.
"I love you," He murmured against her lips
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a yes,"
He heart felt full. The abrupt ending for the case was awful, and he knew he'd feel that way for a long time. But now he knew he'd be coming home to her every night. He held her against his chest, his heart beat feeling even as he calmed down. He was going to be able to get through this, get through anything, with Elle next to him.
----------
Weeks later, the office was starting to get back to normal. The holiday season was starting up, putting everyone in a better mood despite the air growing colder and snow starting to fall.
It was the end of November, and staying true to his promise, Flip was ready to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah with Elle. He noticed more than usual this year how Christmas completely dominated the season. He could count the number of menorahs he saw around town on one hand, and nothing was marketed in stores for the holiday.
He picked Elle up at the hospital that night, the two of them were going grocery shopping to pick up ingredients to make latkes. He remembered his grandparents making them when him and his parents stayed over for a few days. His mother refused to make them for him when he asked for them after.
Elle had told him that Hanukah wasn't a huge deal for her family either. It was a quiet holiday for her parents in Germany, especially right before the Second World War broke out.
"It wasn't until they got to America that Hanukkah became a big thing," She had explained to him a couple of days ago. "The rabbi at temple wanted the community to be involved and have something to look forward to in the winter, like how Christians had Christmas. So we'd give little gifts to one another and play dreidel and stuff."
He was kind of excited to celebrate with her. After turning down Yom Kippur and Sukkot, he'd felt a little guilty. At the time, he didn't think much of it. But after being faced with hate day in and day out, he wanted to learn more about his culture.
And so here he was, pulling his car up to the curb so that Elle could jump in from the snow currently falling around them. She greeted him with a kiss, her cold nose touching his cheek as she did, and they drove out to the store.
It was late afternoon and the store was quiet. It was only a week or so after thanksgiving, and a month until Christmas, so the shelves were well-stocked during the holiday lull. They strolled down the aisles, Elle reading from list she'd pulled from her jacket pocket.
Sour cream
Applesauce
Onion
Potato
It was simple enough, but that didn't stop them from messing around. When Elle sent him to get a tub of Daisy sour cream, he came back to her trying to reach a jar of applesauce on the top shelf.
He could have easily grabbed it for her, but instead opted to come up behind her and left her in the air. She let out a yelp and nearly elbowed him in the face until she saw it was just her boyfriend. She rolled her eyes, laughed, and grabbed the glass jar, asking to be put back in solid ground.
He set her back down and spun her around to give her a kiss. Normally he hated watching other people's PDA, but he could barely keep his hands off her. She broke the kiss and rubbed her nose against his.
"Come on Romeo, we've gotta get cooking by sundown, let's finish up here,” She hooked a finger on his belt, drawing him closer as she continued in a hushed voice. "We've got the night to ourselves, be patient and you might get a reward later,"
"Oh? What kind of reward?" He rested his hand on the small of her back, subtly drifting lower.
"It's something small. And lacy. You'll have to unwrap me to find out," He let out a short breath as she spoke, looking around to make sure no one heard that.
"Trouble," He gave her a light smack on her ass as she started walking toward the produce section.
"Only for you," She called back to him.
Only for him. All for him.
She had him grab onions while she looked for the best bag of potatoes. He put the newly-filled paper bag into their basket and started to head back over. He'd come up behind Elle, resting his hand on the small of her back to let her know he was there. He looked around the store as he waited, watching as a few people went by with their own groceries.
Suddenly, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see a familiar face looking at him from down the aisle.
A brunette was watching the two of them, her cart stationary as though she stopped to stare. It took a second to place her, but he remembered. She was from the klan bar out in the country. She was the one who wanted him to dance.
He stared back, waiting to see if she knew who he was. He couldn't quite place her expression. Elle didn't notice the interaction. She had turned to face him, tugging his sleeve to let him know she was finished. The woman's gaze shifted from their faces to their necks.
After the case was over, Flip had retrieved his necklace from his desk, returning it to its rightful place around his throat. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and Elle's uniform showed off her own Star of David. The woman's mouth drew tight and she walked off, not giving them a second look.
He thought about it all through the check out line and on the car ride home. That woman, who had spent nights on end checking him out at the bar, had just turned her nose up at him because of a necklace. Of course, he didn't want or need her attention, spending most of those nights purposefully avoiding her. What was bothering him was that without knowing a single thing about it besides his heritage, the woman had gone from pursuing him to being repulsed by him. The case was over, people had died or gone to jail, but the hatred still persisted. Had anything really changed?
He helped Elle unpack everything onto the counter, and she set him to work peeling and grating the potatoes as she diced an onion. The radio played in the background, thankfully the Christmas music hadn't started yet so it was just the regular rotation of pop music. Some pop group belted out their ballad as they worked in silence.
He handed over the peeled and grated potatoes to Elle, who was wiping her eyes with the corner of a towel, the onions proving to be potent. She mixed the two together with an egg. She instructed him to set a pan on the stove and turn on the heat. She formed patties with her hands and put oil in the pan, letting the latke crackle as it met the heat.
"You've been quiet, you got something on your mind?" She asked as she turned one over. Perfect golden brown.
"It's probably nothing. But I saw someone from the investigation at the grocery store this afternoon. A woman who frequented a bar the klan hung out at," He divulged.
"Do you think she recognized you?"
"I don't know, I couldn't tell honestly. But I think she saw my necklace. She was friendly before, when she thought I was Ron Stallworth, a brother. But she took one look at the necklace and suddenly it was like I was a piece of gum on the street,"
She turned the heat off and moved the pan to a different burner. She hopped on the counter, extending her arms to motion for him to come closer. He obliged, wrapping his arms around her frame, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arms reached up, embracing him. One hand ran through his hair in a soothing motion.
"People suck. She sucks," She said
"I just don't know if the case was even worth it. Sure, we got some good intel and some suffered consequences. But most of them are still out there, just living life. Ron told me he saw a cross burning from his apartment the other night. It's like nothing has really changed,"
"You changed,"
Her words confused him. He look at her, brows furrowed.
"When I met you, before this whole case started, you didn't seem to care too much. About who you were, where you came from, what others were doing in the world. This case changed you. I don't know what went on most of the time, or what you heard or saw but you'd come home angry and tired. But you also started forming opinions, taking interest in your culture and really thinking about what's happening around you,"
"So yeah, they might not have changed. They're gonna be full of hate and ignorance probably for the rest of their lives. They don't want to actually be better, they want to think they're better than everyone else. You, Flip Zimmerman came out of this a better person,"
He thought about her words. It wasn't something he really considered, but he supposed she was right. Things had changed for him. New place, new girlfriend, new perspective on life.
He kissed her forehead, a silent thank you.
"I love you,"
"I love you too. Do you wanna put some plates our for me so I can serve these up?"
"Sure thing babe," He let her get off the counter and start cooking again. He grabbed two plates from the cabinet, letting her alternate finished latkes between them.
The sun was just setting when they finished. They placed the food on the table and brought a bottle of wine out to share. Her menorah, one her family bought her before she'd gone off to college and had been with her ever since, was sitting proudly in the window.
A tiny part of him thought about how visible it was, the shiny silver with the white candles could easily be seen from the street. Thoughts of someone from the klan spotting it, someone seeing it as a bullseye for who to target their hate against. He knew what people were capable of.
"Do you know the story of Hanukkah?" She asked him.
He realized he'd begun to space out, and she had seen him staring at the menorah in the window. He had a feeling that she knew what he'd been thinking.
"Not really," He admitted.
A Syrian king named Antiochus IV sent his soldiers to enforce his rule. He had outlawed Judaism and any holiday or custom that had to do with it. Jews were expected to convert to following the Greek gods or die.
After the Temple of Jerusalem had been declared to be for the Greek god Zeus, a Jewish resistance movement led by the Maccabees began in defiance of this ruling. They fought against the Syrians in several battles and though severely outnumbered, won.
According to the legend, when the Maccabees entered the temple and began to reclaim it, they quickly went to relit their eternal flame on the menorah. In the temple, they found a single jar of oil, which would only light the menorah for one day. It would take eight days for a messenger to bring them more oil. But miraculously that one jar of oil burned for the full eight days, keeping the flame alive until more oil could be brought. Those eight days became the miracle of Hanukkah.
"It's about perseverance of our religion and culture. Hanukah means dedication in Hebrew. The menorah is displayed publicly on purpose, it's a way of asserting your faith for all to see,"
He understood what she was saying. This was an opportunity for him.
“I'd like to light the candle for the first night," He said after some thought. "If that's okay,"
"Of course babe," Elle responded. She brought over a candle she'd lit previously, handing him the shamash.
As she used her flame to light his, he thought about how the last time he held a candle was during the klan initiation. He had to stand up in front of a room and swear he was of pure blood. He had to lie, mask an entire aspect of his existence. The entire time he'd found himself thinking of Rosh Hashanah with Elle, the ritual and meaning behind the candles, how they were to usher in a new year and positivity. Holding the shamash, now lit, felt cleansing. The flame once again holding a uplifting meaning.
"Do you need me to guide you through the prayer?" She asked. He nodded. She spoke slowly, letting him take his time to recite.
Baruch atah, Adonai
Eloheinu, Melech haolam,
“Hah-oh-lahm” she enunciated, letting him correct himself.
asher kid’shanu
b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu
l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.
The first candle was lit, the flame dancing steadily upon the wick. He set the shamash back down in its holder and stepped back to look at it.
He felt Elle wrap her arms around his waist. He curled his arm around her, hugging her to him. They looked at the menorah, watching how the light reflected on the icy window pane, creating dancing shadows on the wall.
"How do you feel?" She asked.
A few months ago, he was in a completely different place, mentally more so than physically. He looked down at Elle, her big brown eyes staring back up at him. She looked at him with love, a feeling he eagerly returned. He felt at peace, he felt accepted and in turn, more accepting of himself.
"I feel like I'm home," He responded.
He was unsure at first, if she'd understand what he meant by that. But she just smiled up at him before resting her head on his chest. She understood, he was home.
______
Welp, that’s all folks! Thanks for reading this story, I had fun writing it! It was cathartic to write a Jewish-driven story, you dont get to see those often.
Shalom aleichem
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
CHASING HONGBIN - CHAPTER 11
Hello!!!!! I know some of you have been waiting for our little fox, so here ya go!
I hope you enjoy the chapter and as always, let me know what you think. I always love hearing from y'all. It motivates me to write more!
🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊
The apartment was quiet when you woke. You were used to noisy places. Not nice apartments in the better part of Seoul. You rose up on the bed and stretched. You slept better than you thought you would. You listened and you could still hear Hongbin's heartbeat in the other room. Judging by it's rhythm, he was still asleep. Foxes tended to be a bit hyperactive so they didn't sleep a lot. But, considering he had been injured, it was good that he was resting. After taking care of the bathroom, you quietly walked into the kitchen. You chanced a look at Hongbin. His body was narrow but it was almost too long for the sofa. He had kicked the small blanket off at some point in the night. And, apparently, decided to sleep without a shirt. You quickly looked away and headed towards the kitchen.
Looking around in the cabinets and refrigerator, you found enough ingredients for breakfast. Halfway through cooking the eggs, you heard the change in Hongbin's heartbeat. He was awake now. You heard him rustling about and then his light footsteps crossing the floor until he entered the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" His voice, raspy from sleep, suddenly made you blush. You tried to lean over the heat of the stove for a bit to mask the pink on your cheeks. You prayed that he had put a shirt on before coming into the kitchen. But, you refused to check.
"Making breakfast. I didn't know what you liked since we usually got something quick before. I hope this is okay."
"Anything is fine," you felt Hongbin's chin rest lightly on your shoulder and froze, "I'll eat just about anything."
His hands didn't touch you, it was only his chin resting on your shoulder. It was a comforting, homey feeling and didn't feel invading.
"We can go grocery shopping today if you want. That way we can find what you like to eat."
"But, I don't--"
"I insist. Besides, we need to eat, right?" You knew arguing with a fox breed was futile. They were stubborn and good at winning arguments.
"I suppose. I need to go out to look for a job anyway. I might have to rely on you a bit until I can get some money. But I'll write down everything and pay you back as soon as I can."
"You don't have to. And you can rely on me for more than just money, you know."
You didn't respond but lowered your head to hide the pink in your cheeks. The eggs were done so you moved them to a plate and put them on the counter beside you. Hongbin removed himself from your shoulder and grabbed a glass of water from the table.
"I'm going to go over to my apartment and clean up. Then I'll come right back. Is that okay?"
"Of course, I should have everything ready by then." You nodded and focused on the rice cooker. Hongbin walked by and ruffled your hair with his hand. You jumped slightly and turned to look at him.
"Maybe you can work on those nerves while I'm gone, too." His eyes flashed a bright orange and then he winked. Your insides jumped to attention and a soft gasp escaped your mouth.
You didn't know which was worse. Him openly flirting with you or him knowing that he made you flustered because of it.
When Hongbin returned, breakfast disappeared quickly. You were never one to shy away from food and a foxes have hearty appetites.
Once you reached the first floor of the apartment building, Hongbin led you a couple streets down to a large supermarket. He pulled a cart from the corral and guided you around the store. His voice was a bit muffled by the mask he wore and he spoke quietly so as to not garner any attention. In a very short time, the cart was half-filled with different types of food and snacks. At the register, there was a large display of candies and chocolates that had your mouth watering. You promised yourself that as soon as you could start making your own money, you were going on a candy binge.
"Y/N, will you go put the cart away for me?" Hongbin had emptied its contents onto the conveyor belt already while you had been daydreaming. You nodded, feeling guilty for not helping, and rolled the cart to the opposite side of the registers.
When you returned, Hongbin already had half of the bags in his hands. You grabbed the rest and waited while he paid. When you looked at the total, you wanted to cry. It would take you a while to pay him back. Hongbin must have caught you looking and nudged you with his elbow.
"Don't worry. This is only a fraction of the amount we spend on food in our dorm. Come on."
You followed him out of the store and past a few buildings. Something caught your eye and you stopped. It was a flower shop. It must have opened while you were in the market because you didn't see it before. The wonderful scents from various flowers filled your nose and you took a deep breath. You automatically gravitated towards it. You vaguely heard Hongbin say your name but you were focused on the flowers. Rabbit hybrid had little control when it came to flowers. A multitude of colors filled your vision and a smile appeared on your face. When you reached the door a young woman hurried out, more flowers in hand. She couldn't have been much older than you and strikingly beautiful. She fit in well with her flowers. She placed the bucket on the pavement and took a deep breath. It took her a moment to notice you.
"Oh! Hello, welcome, come in if you like! I just opened so it's a bit crazy right now. Are you looking for anything in particular?"
"Um, not really. I just noticed the beautiful flowers and gravitated." You blushed in embarrassment but the woman smiled a knowing smile.
"Haha, I understand that. This shop is my baby. I built it from the ground up. It's growing quickly so I can't complain. But it's getting to be a bit much for just me sometimes." The woman laughed and you instantly wanted to help.
"Are you looking for workers?"
"Well, I would like to have at least one other person here. Being here by myself seven days a week is getting a bit much. I suppose I should put up a sign."
"I could help! I actually came out looking for a job today." The woman looked at you and she looked hopeful.
"Do you have any experience with flowers?"
"I do! I can show you!"
"Hmm....I tell you what. Make a small bouquet for me. If I like it, then you're hired!"
You almost jumped for joy and then you saw Hongbin in your peripheral vision. You had completely forgotten he was with you.
"Um, just a moment." She nodded and you ran over to Hongbin. You started to explain but he simply grabbed the bags you were holding.
"Go ahead. I'll wait for you. Take your time and do well, okay?"
"I will!" You practically bounced back over to the woman and clasped your hands together. "I'm ready."
"Good. Let's see.......I would like a bouquet that would be fitting for a first date. We get a ton of requests for that. What can you come up with?" The women's eyes shone with expectation and you wanted to cry in excitement.
You looked around the small shop and took a mental note of the different flowers on hand. After careful consideration, you began collection stems. In about ten minutes, you had a full bouquet prepared, complete with tissue paper wrapped around and a nice elegant bow. You picked up your bouquet and took it over to the woman. She was standing in front of a covered birdcage, cooing at its hidden resident. She noticed you were done and giggled.
"Sorry, I tend to get wrapped up in my adoration for Rook. He's a bird I rescued not long ago. So, what did you come up with?"
You handed the bouquet to her and she looked it over carefully. She nodded in appreciation and your heart jumped.
"Very nice, I like it. You even did well on the wrapping. I think we can work something out." The young woman struck out her hand and you shook it, excitedly.
"Thank you! Thank so much! You won't be disappointed!"
"Good! Why don't you come by day after tomorrow and we'll work out the details. Here," she handed the bouquet back to you, "you can take this with you."
You smile, almost unbelieving that you had actually found a job so quickly. You thanked the woman a couple hundred times before exiting the store to find Hongbin across the small street with the bags. You bounded over to him and showed him the bouquet.
"I got a job! And look, she let me keep the bouquet!"
"I heard! I'm really happy for you. The bouquet is just as beautiful as its maker." You both started walking back down the street towards the apartment. "I had no idea you had a talent for flowers."
"Hongbin......I'm a rabbit. It's practically instinct." You giggled, looking at your bouquet.
"Hmm, yes, I suppose it is. I'm happy for you. I'm also happy to see that smile on your face. Although.....I'm a little jealous."
You looked up at him in surprise. You followed him into the elevator and pressed the button for theb12th floor.
"Jealous? Why on earth would you be jealous? You're an international star. I'm just going to make flower arrangements."
"No, I mean that I'm jealous of the flowers. They were able to make you smile like that. I want to make you smile like that too."
Your heart skipped at his words. Fire spread throughout your cheeks and then you laughed.
"Don't worry, you make me happy, too, Hongbin." You opened the door to the apartment and took off your shoes. "I had a good time today. I felt normal. I seem to only be able to do that when you're around. So....thank you."
You turned to look at him when you reached the kitchen and you caught his eyes. They were that bright orange again and you were confused about the color. They weren't glowing. But they were different than his normal color.
"Hongbin...."
"Hmm?" He reached into the bags and removed the items to be put away.
"What are you thinking about right now?"
"What do you mean?" His eyebrows knitted together in question.
"Your eye color is strange."
"Oh....it's nothing. Don't worry about it."
Considering that he may not want to talk about it, you didn't push the subject. All of the groceries were put away except for one bag that Hongbin had held the entire time. You assumed it was things for himself until he handed it to you. You turned your questioning eyes to him and he smiled.
"This one is yours. I got it just for fun but I guess now it can be in celebration of your new job.
You tentatively took the bag and looked inside. A quiet gasp escaped your throat. Inside the bag was about half of the display of candies and chocolates you had seen at the store.
"W-When did you......why?" You looked back in the bag and smiled widely.
"I felt your emotions when you saw the display. I wanted you to have them. I'll buy them for you everyday if you'll smile like that."
Overcome with emotion and gratefulness, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist. It was the first time in your life you had willingly hugged a fox. But you wanted to and it felt great. You felt Hongbin's arms wrap around you in return. His embrace was warm and comforting. Silent tears escaped your eyes in gratitude.
"Thank you."
"Anytime." After you released him, Hongbin reached into the bag and took out one of the candies, unwrapped it, and held it up to you. You started to take it but he held it out of your reach and popped it into his mouth. Your own mouth opened in shock.
"I thought those were mine?!" You felt your eyes go red when you saw the candy disappear.
"What? You can't share?" He sighed and stepped closer to you. "Fine, I'll give it back."
Then he grabbed your face and lowered his head towards yours. You giggled and squealed, trying to avoid his method of giving the candy back. He was stronger than you, of course, but he had reigned in quite a bit of strength. Instead he was enjoying the play fight.
"You can keep it! Keep it!" You were giggling uncontrollably now and you could hear him laughing as well.
"Okay, I'll keep you." Hongbin's arms came around you and lifted you from the floor. You squeaked out a surprised sound again and tried to break free. Your arms were trapped between your body and his so you had no leverage. He carried you to the living room and plopped you down on the sofa. He stood back up and looked at you. His cheeks were flushed and he was still smiling. He looked the most attractive you had ever seen him and it caused your heart to beat double-time.
He must have heard it because his gaze traveled down to wear your heart would be and then back up.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, just got a little overwhelmed. I haven't really played around like that in a long time. It felt good." It was the truth. You felt happy. But a different thought clouded your mind that ruined your mood.
"But...?"
"But, now, I'm waiting for something bad to happen."
Hongbin knelt down in front of the sofa as you rose up to a sitting position. His orange eyes held concern and....something you couldn't quite place.
"Why?"
"That's just the way it's been up until now." You shrugged and smiled ruefully. "I've always been an orphan. I've been running for my life for more years than I care to count. Up until now, my life was a series of ups and downs. But, mostly it's been down."
"Well, up until now, you didn't have me, right? So things will change. We'll live everyday happily and have a lot of fun.
You stared at him for what seemed like forever, but he didn't move. He was waiting for you to accept what he said. You suddenly thought of something that you wanted.
"Hongbin.....you know that thing you did last night?" He furrowed his brows in confusion so you explained. "When you took away the fear?"
"Yes, why?"
"H-How often-....I mean, when......um.....can you......"
"First time asking for something from someone?"
"Yes, so shut up." You glared at him but he only smiled at you. He was trying to make it easier for you but your pride was getting in the way.
"What would you like, y/n? I told you, you only need to ask." His eyes encouraged you to keep going. You took a deep breath and said everything all together.
"Canyoudothatagain....because......Ilikedit." You mumbled the last part, not confident in your emotions not to sound like an idiot.
"Y/N..." You looked back up at him and he sighed. "I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest. It's very important that you answer truthfully."
"Yes, of course."
"Do you want me to do that because you want the feelings to go away or because you want me to kiss you?"
Your heart practically stopped. His blunt question caused your mind to go blank. What were you supposed to do? You knew the answer but could you even say it? You put your head down and picked at your fingernails.
"Both." You'd said it so quietly that even you weren't sure you'd said it.
"Y/N, look at me and answer." Hongbin's voice was commanding and you had no choice but to look up at him, wide eyed. "Now.....tell me."
You swallowed the lump in your throat and pushed back the doubts in your mind.
"Both."
In a matter of seconds, Hongbin's lips covered yours. This definitely wasn't the barely-there kiss he'd given you last night. No....this was slow, deliberate, and sensual. His lips moved slowly over yours and his hand cupped your cheek as he moved forward. You returned the kiss this time and you heard him growl for the second time since you'd known him. His free hand wrapped around your back and pulled you closer to him. He was still kneeling in front of you and now you were teetering on the edge of the sofa. Even with him on the floor, he still towered over you.
You jumped when his tongue glided over your lips. The feeling brought you back to reality and you pulled away slightly, desperate for air. His face was still inches from yours and you could see the soft glow from his orange eyes. He took a deep breath and spoke.
"Please tell me you'll let me do that again."
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
— PEER INTO MY MUSE’S MEMORIES
❤️- A happy memory that makes them smile
💙- A sad memory that makes them cry
💛- A memory that makes them feel angry
💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty
💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad
💔- A memory that leaves them feeling lonely
❣- A memory that leaves them laughing
featuring @evcravens & @dukemassetti
💓- A memory about their friends
featuring @julianaxcapulet & @stlapin
💗- A memory about a good deed they did
💖- A memory that made them feel special
💝- A memory that made them feel loved
💘- A memory that gets their heart pounding
featuring @dukemassetti
❤️- A happy memory that makes them smile
the sun clinging to her lashes. a dirt path surrounded by blossoms. a woman’s hand in hers. she is not maeve’s mother, but she is the closest thing maeve has. signora fiore guides maeve through her secret garden. all these years, maeve thought it was only a backyard. she did not expect to find flowers blooming from the earth everywhere. she learns the name of each bud and helps signora fiore take care of them all. when she asks if she can sleep in the garden, signora fiore laughs and says maybe one day. before she runs home, signora fiore gives her a single sunflower. to bring joy to your home, she tells maeve. maeve tucks it under her pillow.
💙- A sad memory that makes them cry
amalia is her first girlfriend — or at least, the first thing to come close to being a girlfriend. the two hold hands on their way to school and come close to kissing once in awhile, until maeve begins giggling or her ears turn bright red with embarrassment. one night, amalia doesn’t call, but maeve doesn’t mind; she’s been busy with bunny, making flower crowns and finding the sweetest treat in the city. in the morning, she waits for amalia in front of their usual spot to walk to school together; amalia doesn’t show. at school, maeve goes to school to find amalia kissing another girl, who she does not recognize. when confronted, amalia says plainly: “you love without being asked, and that’s why it’s hard to want you. you’re too easy, maeve. it’s just not fun.”
💛- A memory that makes them feel angry
when she asks her papa why he became a capulet, he tells her that it’s for her mamma. to avenge her. to make the montagues pay. when maeve tells him, with anger and love joined in her voice, of the rot it has birthed inside of him and their hometown, he laughs. “you are a child. what do you know? the capulets would eat you alive and spit your bones out after. you will never understand.” she promises him then, that she will prove him wrong.
💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty
what is stronger: a full heart or an empty stomach? maeve learns the answer when a neighbor invites her inside after seeing her wandering around alone in the neighborhood. she lost her house keys, and she’s waiting for her papa to come home and let her in. sitting at her neighbor’s dining room table, maeve is supposed to do her homework but it’s boring. she hates numbers. as she stares at her multiplication tables, her stomach yowls with anger and need. the neighbor is taking a nap. with frequent glances towards the bedroom door, maeve opens the fridge and yelps softly.
so many sweets! and fruit! and juice! what starts off as just one strawberry turns into the whole carton. one piece of a cupcake turns into three. by the end of the afternoon, maeve has demolished every sweet thing in her neighbor’s fridge. the neighbor doesn’t realize as she waves goodbye from her doorstep, and maeve blushes bright red when she tells her papa she doesn’t want dinner. she avoids walking on that part of town for years after.
💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad
when her papa comes to her bedroom in the middle of the night, he thinks she’s asleep. maeve pretends she is, but she smiles when he presses a kiss to her temple. she can tell he’s been drinking; the stench sticks to him like putty or glue. “stella mia, my sweet girl,” he tells her. then he hugs her so tight that only a drunk man would believe it wouldn’t wake a little girl. in the dark, maeve smiles and holds the moment close. it’s when he calls her stella mia that she hears what he can’t bring himself to ever say: i love you.
💔- A memory that leaves them feeling lonely
her papa is loud when he comes home. he curses loudly and slurs so much that she’s not sure she completely understands him. she peeks out of her bedroom door, and just barely catches the sight of him grabbing a vase of violets and throwing it to the ground. maeve cries out, a mewling kitten in sudden agony. her papa doesn’t hear over the sound of his yelling, so she waits until he’s gone into his room to start picking up the ceramic pieces. she does not cry, though she can’t help but sniffle. in the morning, he doesn’t remember much and apologizes for the mess after maeve asks a neighbor to come help. he doesn’t notice that the violets are nowhere to be found, saved in a small box of the other flowers her papa killed.
❣- A memory that leaves them laughing
everett and orion are arguing again, and maeve munches on popcorn as she watches. literally — she just bought some popcorn from the grocery store on her way to everett’s home and they’re too busy fighting to notice her snacking. but when orion starts imitating everett, she has to cut in. “that’s not what everett sounds like!” uncurling from her spot on the couch, maeve stands with her spine so erect that she’s almost bending backwards. “listen here young man, you are not to use that foul, young-people language around me ever again!” she says sternly, wagging her finger at orion for emphasis.
it spirals from there. the look on everett’s face — so offended and horrified at the behavior of the soldier who just joined his borgata a few days prior — makes her and orion laugh until they’re crying. then he joins in on the fun, mimicking orion. when it’s clear he’s too kind to mock maeve, orion decides to do so instead. suddenly, the three of them are taking turns and doubling over, breathless with laughter.
she wishes she had taken a picture of that moment, when they went from a team to a family.
💕- A memory about their significant other
N/A
💞- A memory about their children
N/A
💓- A memory about their friends
juliana, bunny and maeve are having a picnic. the clouds drift lazily along in the sky, and juliana points out the interesting shapes they make in the sky. bunny dips a chocolate-covered strawberry onto her tongue. maeve sits with her back against the tree that gives them shade, watching them both without a word. her heart swells with love for her friends. the girls who have known her her entire life, the girls who have come to define all that maeve is. when bunny asks what maeve is thinking about, she answers honestly: “how much i love you both.” with a private glance between the two of them, juliana and bunny creep closer until finally, they tackle maeve to the ground and begin tickling her until she’s gasping and begging for a break.
“serves you right for being cute,” juliana says.
“it’s what you deserve,” bunny agrees.
then it’s maeve’s turn to tackle them with a sweeping hug, stretching her arms as far as they’ll go. “i don’t care, i’d do it again.”
“now you’re really asking for it,” bunny smiles with a wicked gleam in her eye. and so the cycle repeats. it’s the perfect afternoon.
💗- A memory about a good deed they did
on the anniversary of her mother’s death, maeve spends her entire paycheck on flowers — whatever is in season and fully bloomed. she spends the rest of the day passing them out to children. boys and girls who she sees without a parent. whether it’s because their guardians have passed or are just not there at that exact moment, maeve spends her entire afternoon passing out small gifts. she hopes it makes them happy. she knows it would have made her happy when she was their age.
💖- A memory that made them feel special
this entire thread okay
💝- A memory that made them feel loved
it’s her sixteenth birthday, and her papa remembered. he takes the day off work (even capulet work, which she finds out later). he makes breakfast, simple but still homemade. he tries to make a cake for her, although she ends up finding out and babysitting him through the entire process. he watches her favorite movies with her, goes shopping at the flea market with her. he listens to her stories and even shares a few of his own: what it was like growing up, how he met her mother, how her mother cried and cried when she found out she was pregnant. at the end of the day, she kisses him on the cheek as she says goodnight and he pulls her close for the rare hug. “you are the best thing in my life, stella mia.” he doesn’t say i love you, but he doesn’t have to.
“i love you too, papa. more than life.”
it’s her best birthday yet.
💘- A memory that gets their heart pounding
it’s a deal gone wrong, and there are four men closing in on her and orion.
she pulls out her knife, but her hand is shaking; she’s never used it against anything but a practice dummy before.
she ends up using hand-to-hand combat more often, using only the hilt of the blade against her opponents. she and orion manage to knock them unconscious by themselves, and she’s breathing hard with her heart almost ripping out of her throat every time it beats.
“nice, i almost thought — hey, hey, what are you doing!”
one by one, orion methodically slits their throats with a knife of his own. “just look away. or close your eyes.”
“but i—”
“miranda.” his voice is a warning.
“okay. fine.” she closes her eyes. she doesn’t forget what orion is doing, but it does help her heart calm down and her breathing to return to normal. she decides, then, that if orion knows her well enough to give her sound advice, she’ll trust him. even if he’s killing someone as she’s deciding that she likes him, after all.
#alcoholism tw#ask meme (answered)#I KNOW THE SPECIAL ONE IS A COP OUT i couldn't think of anyTHING#i want to tell you everything; i want you to love me for it (everett)#i kissed each bullet; simply because i loved the person who was holding the gun (orion)#what am i if not yours (juliana)#love isn't soft like those poets say; love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close (bunny)
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Speed Meet | Heather & Xavier
@heatherpayne
February 14th, 2020
Lake House Bar and Grill
Evening
Heather knew she would regret coming to this event. Speed dating was dumb enough, but speed meeting? What a lame thing to come up with. Still, desperate for any new information on the people in town, Heather had signed up for this speed dating event as an excuse for asking intrusive questions. Luckily for her, people loved to talk about themselves, though stopping seemed to be the hard part. She didn't think she could last for three more hours of this social torture, but at least the next table she sat at had a vaguely familiar face. "So, did you ever get the grocery pyramid home," she glanced at his name tag, "Xavier?"
Despite how long he'd been in town, Xavier was low on friends. He had plenty of acquaintances, but it never hurt to meet new people. Broaden your horizons. You never knew who would end up being your friend. Plus it was nice to get out into the community. Work often kept him from being as involved as he would like, at least with the night time events. He laughed at his partner, remembering her from the grocery store when his cans had been in the middle of mutiny. "I did, I did. It was much easier after your help." Xavier said, taking a moment to read her name tag. "Well, it's nice to see you again Heather. Now I can properly thank you for your help."
"Glad to be of help." Heather shot Xavier a smile. Xavier, that was a cool name, like Professor Xavier of the X-Men. "So, what do you like to do other than feed the entire neighborhood?" Though she hadn't seen him since before Christmas and had liked him well enough, she was glad that she had not gone to the group dinner. She was being reminded today how torturous strangers could be.February 21, 2020
Xavier chuckled. He would gladly feed the entire neighborhood all the time, but they would probably get sick of them “I like to jog, but that’s pretty hard to do this time of year. I volunteer when I can.” Those weren’t really hobbies though, were they? “I don’t know if it counts as a hobby, but sometimes I’ll get a stack of romcoms from the library and a nice bottle of wine and binge watch them with my cats. What about yourself? What do you do when you’re not rescuing shoppers from themselves?”
Heather considered him listing volunteering. That could either mean he was a really good guy, or an obnoxious one trying to sound selfless. He seemed genuine at least. "I take kickboxing lessons and did kung fu for a while. I see jogging though as more of a chore than any sort of hobby." She snorted at the cheesy answer."To each their own, but I go for action and adventure."
"Remind me to never challenge you to a fight." Xavier said, eyes wide as she mentioned that she did kung fu. "Yeah, I can see that about jogging but I find it relaxing. I like the routine of it." He liked the routine of most of his day, to be honest. "I know, it's not what you expect when you look at me. What can I say? Action and adventure are good in small doses, but the market is pretty saturated nowadays and they just rely on CGI far too much."
"Aw, but it would be fun." Heather pouted but couldn't hide her smile. "That makes sense." She could appreciate a good routine and ordered life. "Please, like there is any shortage of romance. Anyways, they try to push romance into action movies, yet there aren't enough sword fights in romcoms."
"Fun for you. I'm not sure about me." Xavier chuckled. "No, there aren't that many sword fights in most romcoms, but it doesn't really bother me. I don't watch them for fight scenes. I watch them because I want to forget what the world is really like."
"Party pooper." Well, she had other sparring partners. "Oh yeah, movies are absolutely escapism. I'm just not the romantic type. Straight comedy can be good if it's not too cheesy."
"I'm sorry. Sparring isn't my thing. But I'd be down for arm wrestling. Or a thumb war." Xavier didn't usually arm wrestle, but he didn't want Heather to think he was a total party pooper. He knew how to have fun. "Nah, that's fair. The world just seems a little kinder in romcoms, is all, you know? But there are some classic comedies. I don't mind cheesy movies, but yeah cheesy comedy is pretty rough."
"Okay, you're on." Heather leaned forward and placed her elbow on the table, hand raised. "There's a point of cheesy that is ironic, and a point of cheesy that is mind-numbingly stupid." She thought herself above such silly and mindless gags.
Xavier grinned, matching her posture and grabbing hold of her hand. “Ready, then?” He asked her. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree about cheesy movies.”
"Or maybe this will decide who is right." She gripped Xavier's hand and counted, "1, 2, 3!" Heather was met with surprising resistance right away. She grit her teeth as she dug her elbow into the table. "So you did build some muscle pushing your full cart around the store."
Xavier grinned, showing off his sparkling white teeth, a delighted laugh escaping his mouth. Heather was quite the challenger, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun arm wrestling. Probably because he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d arm wrestled. “Well it’s not like that was the only time I’ve had a cart that full. It’s not like that was my first rodeo. I see your efforts haven’t been in vain either.”
"You are very dedicated to your training. Commendable." She snicked as he admitted her strength. This was by far the most fun Heather had had all evening, and she noticed in her periphery a few people starting to watch their little competition. Now that Xavier was working his muscles, Heather noticed how impressive they were through his shirt. "All of my training comes from throwing cans of veggies at hapless shoppers."
“A man’s honor comes from his dedication to his training.” Xavier said, nodding seriously. He noticed the attention that they were drawing, and he didn’t blame them, they certainly made quite the pair. They were both giving a good effort, but Xavier still had more to give, and so increased his efforts, a quirking his brow with a smirk in a silent challenge. “Well, it pays off, but I think that pushing the cans around gives me more of an edge.”
Heather returned a curt nod. "But a woman's honor comes from winning." She glared at him as she tried to push harder, but his efforts were proving very formidable. As she prepared her next snark, a loud sound pierced the air, startling her. By the moment her concentration returned to the battle at hand, Heather's arm was to the table. "Shit," escaped her mouth.
Xavier almost felt bad that he won because of Heather's distract. Almost. "Hey, that was a good effort. Maybe next time." Xavier said, holding out his hand for a handshake, a cocky smile on his face. "Sorry it didn't go your way this time."
Heather was this close to pouting like a child as she returned the handshake, but settled for giving a tighter than necessary squeeze. "I only lost because I was distracted, so I demand a rematch. Should we trade numbers for scheduling purposes?" She also did actually want his number as a friend.
"I'm sure we could arrange something." Xavier agreed. He pulled out his wallet, retrieving one of the business cards that he kept in there and handing it over to Heather. "Doesn't have to be a rematch though. You can just admit that you were curious to see if my cooking lives up to all the hype."
"Ooh, fancy, a business card," Heather teased as she took the card and looked it over. Pocketing it, she replied, "I've never heard anyone but you talk about your cooking." But, to be honest, she was a bit tired of cooking the same few meals for herself. "But maybe you need someone to knock that opinion down a few notches." She smiled as she stood and gathered up her jacket.
“You never know when you’re going to need one, I like to be prepared.” Xavier said, tucking his wallet back into his pocket before straightening his shirt, which had gotten into a state of disarray during their arm wrestling match. “I’m always happy to cook for a friend, no matter the motivation. All they need to do is ask.”
"Preparation is key," Heather agreed, though she didn't have a business card. At this point, she didn't want her contact info so easily accessible. "Great. Thanks for the offer. I'll see you around."
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Angel of Thursday: CasSamDean
Sam, Dean and Castiel created by Eric Kripke, from television series Supernatural. Random SPN fan fic.
***
Dean yawned as he made his way to the kitchen. Coffee. Need...Coffee... It was only 9pm or so, but Dean was determined to watch every ‘All Saints Day’ film, in order and in one sitting. Tonight was the night he wouldn’t fall asleep. While it always happened that there would be a dry spell with cases, or word received that other hunters were already on the job and in control of the strange and unusual, the Winchesters never truly had a set block of time to themselves for extracurriculars. When they were able to catch a break, Sam preferring reading, research or exercise, while Dean preferred watching movies or television or por..(um, never mind).
As for Cas, Dean was never really sure what he did to relax (if he ever gave himself permission to relax). Sam had told Dean that he and Cas would sometimes read together in the library or in his room. Also, that they had tried binge-watching shows together. That almost became a pastime, until Castiel started to critique anything supernatural, sci-fi or religious. While Sam and Dean had been hunters pretty much their whole lives and knew more than most others about the true horrors that existed in the world, it was still sometimes difficult to realize how much science-fiction either happened to be accurately represented on television or even worse than they thought, according to Castiel.
Dean opens up the fridge, remembering seeing Cas last entering the bunker loaded with groceries. It had taken Castiel multiple trips to the kitchen to unload it all from the car.
DEAN: Hey! What gives?! The fridge is only a quarter full, if even by that much. All that Dean can find is a six pack of beer, a half empty package of bologna, four eggs, carrots, and two apples. He glances over at the pantry and sees half of the cereal boxes that were there that morning have disappeared. The freezer holds a half bag of golden crinkle fries, a full bag of sweet potato fries (Sam’s. Blech!), and a half bag of chicken nuggets.
Dean knew he saw Cas with at least six bags of groceries, only that morning. He goes to Castiel’s room and bangs on the door.
DEAN: Cas!! Yo, open up! [Bang, bang, bang] Sam looks out from his room with a book in his hand.
SAM: Dean? What’s wrong? He steps out into the hallway. Like Dean, he had planned on settling in for the night and was wearing his pajamas. He walks over to Dean, looking down at his copy of The Goldfinch and double-checking to make sure he’s holding his finger over the last line he was reading. Looking back at Dean, Everything okay? Did you hear about a case?..[Bang, bang, bang].
DEAN: Cas! C’mon, man. I know you’re in there. Open up. Dean raises his hand once more and is about to knock again when the door opens. Castiel furrows his brows at Dean, looking concerned.
CASTIEL: Dean. What’s wrong? Did you discover a new case that needs attention? Dean is about to respond when he notices something different about Castiel’s room. While usually bare except for a few essentials, Castiel’s room now held about forty grocery bags, on his bed, on the floor and on the dresser and desk.
DEAN: Hey. What’s all this? Without waiting for an answer, Dean walks past Castiel into his bedroom. He notices that half of the bags are full and others waiting to be filled. There are groceries laid out in a pile on the foot of Castiel’s bed. He turns to look at Castiel. Sam has walked up to the doorway and is looking over Castiel’s shoulder, confused like his brother. You wanna explain all of this to me? Sam raises an eyebrow at Cas.
CASTIEL: I was about to make my rounds. ……… ……… ……… Dean and Sam look at each other. Dean shrugs his shoulders.
SAM: Uh, what do you mean? What rounds, Cas?
CASTIEL: It’s Thursday...……. ………. ……… Dean puts his hands over his eyes and starts to rub them. Sam clears his throat and tries again.
SAM: Well, yeah. We know Cas. What rounds? What is all of this food for? Dean hopes the answer is “For the kitchen”. He notices a bag of pork rinds sticking out of the grocery bag nearest him. Castiel moves to the pile of food and starts to fill the bags that are empty. Wait, is he taking it all back!? C’mon!
CASTIEL: It’s for all of the locals who are forced to live outdoors, mainly under bridges. Some have found sanctuary in several locations, because they keep having to move around, with the police trailing them. Phillip’s back pack was stolen from him yesterday, when he took a nap in the library. It had his blankets in it. But also the money he had saved for his meals this week. I wanted to visit his grounds, first. Sam and Dean looked touched. Castiel was talking about the homeless community in the area. Sam loses interest in his book and loses his place to set it down. He goes over to where Castiel is dividing up his groceries.
SAM: Do you want help?
*****
An hour later, both the truck and the impala are full of the grocery bags. Both Dean and Sam had helped Cas to fill the rest and bring them up to both cars. Sam had also remembered the closet full of spare robes, shirts and blankets and grabbed as many as he could fit in with the food. Even after raiding their stores, there were plenty of supplies left if an army were to seek sanctuary at the bunker.
They drive to a nearby bridge, Castiel wanting to visit Phillip’s location, first. Castiel had marked many ‘X’s on a local map, for all of the locations he hoped to visit before dawn. His original plan was to be done before either Sam or Dean would be awake.
Underneath the bridge are several lit trash cans with some of the homeless hovered around them, trying to stay warm. There are a few tents and many old sleeping bags strewn around. One man in a tattered coat and a scarf wrapped around his head stands up from the lawn chair he’d been sitting on, when Castiel approaches with Sam and Dean, who each carry a bag and an armful of blankets. Other members of the community look over at them curiously, the brothers being unfamiliar to them.
PHILLIP: Castiel! You never fail to deliver, man! He turns back towards the rest of the people to wave them over. When the bags are transferred into their hands, they give many thanks to Team Free Will and sprint back to their families and friends, to immediately divvy up the goods. Phillip lingers behind, taking Castiel’s hands in his. You’re a good man. But....Well, we’ve all been talking and...you shouldn’t have to keep at this, you know? We understand. You’ve been better to us than anyone else, but...fuck, you can’t afford this, can you? We just don’t want you to get in trouble, and we.. Castiel stops Phillip by giving him a hug.
CASTIEL: There’s one more thing. Castiel reaches into a smaller bag he’s carrying and pulls out a few notebooks and a package of ball point pens. You have a brilliant mind, Phillip. The local paper has been including a section for short stories in their most recent issues. I hear they offer a small stipend. I really believe it could turn into something more. You should try and sell one of the stories you’ve been so kind to share with me, lately.
Phillip doesn’t know what to say. He always helped to distract his friends from their gross state by making up stories. During the day, he’d take shelter in libraries, and read to his heart’s content, before closing hours. Inspired by other authors, he took their stories and would embellish off of them for his friends, making the homeless community smile, and forget their hunger and their pain.
Recently, he’d been sharing stories with the kind businessman, Castiel, who would occasionally deliver food to their bridge. But he never thought he’d be given the luxury of actually recording his material. To be given the opportunity to share it with the larger community. He’s still standing there, dumbstruck with the pens and notebooks in his hands, when the impala and the truck pull away.
*****
CASTIEL: Next on the map is the south bridge. It’s not far from here. Castiel rides shotgun next to Dean, while Sam follows behind them in the truck. Dean doesn’t respond, so Cas looks over at him. He’s smiling, his eyes are shining. Cas raises his eyebrows. What is it? Dean lets out a light laugh, shaking his head.
DEAN: Cas, how long have you been doing this? Castiel shrugs.
CASTIEL: For over several years, when you and Sam are asleep or out on a case. Every Thursday, I play pool or poker and use my winnings to buy food from local markets. Sometimes clothing, but food comes first, not to mention clean drinking water.
DEAN: When did you become such a pro at poker and pool?
CASTIEL: I’ve watched you, when it comes to pool. I’m not quite as skilled as you are, so most of the money I make is from poker. Though, it’s not exactly earned. I cheat, of course. As weak as I am nowadays, I can still read minds.
DEAN: Every Thursday, huh? I never really gave that whole ‘Angel of Thursday’ any real merit. So, you’re thing is to make sure everyone eats, but on Thursday only? Why not every night? Castiel looks guilty. He turns to look out the window.
CASTIEL: I’m not sure, exactly. Whenever Thursday is upon us I feel as if there’s a part of me that’s empty, and wanting to be filled. There’s a hum all around me. I’m also more susceptible to pick up the prayers of those whose needs are most urgent. While those things are relevant almost every day, the pull is strongest on Thursdays. It’s like an alarm that will stay on unless a good deed has been performed, and I answer as many prayers as I can. Today, the most common prayer was due to hunger. I wish I could give more.
Dean reaches over and places a hand on Castiel’s. Cas turns to look at Dean.
DEAN: You’re a better man than most, Cas. If it weren’t for the panic it would cause, you know I’d offer Phillip and anyone else who needed it a room at the bunker. They’d all have to learn about monsters and ghosts almost making their lives worse, if we took them in. But even if we weren’t under attack once a month by the creeps that go bump in the night or we weren’t constantly under threat, it would be a matter of minutes before we had to turn people away for lack of space. That’s gonna be on me and not you, okay? It’s my decision, not yours. You aren’t going to help everyone you can, because I’m a selfish son-of-a-bitch and I won’t let you. He squeezes Castiel’s hand and Castiel squeezes back.
CASTIEL: If we could make things easier for those who deserve even the most basic comforts...
DEAN: Stop. Alright? I really hope you mean Thursday and Thursday only, because every other night of the week, you’re gonna be reading or writing or listening to music or watching tv, or trolling Sam’s facebook or whatever you want. You can’t help others if you don’t do good by yourself, every once in a while. You deserve it, after what you did for Phillip back there. Promise me, Cas. R&R. We talked about this. I know you don’t sleep, but if both Sam and I are asleep it means you’re off the clock, too. Do you promise? You’re the Angel of Thursday, and it’s gonna stay that way. Promise.
CASTIEL: [Smiling] Promise... [Then after a moment] Thank you, Dean.
-The End
*Started to write this on Thursday, but spilled into Friday. Oops! Still, thanks for taking the time to read through to the end!!!!
#Homelessness#Supernatural#SPN#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#Food#Angel of Thursday#Cas#spn fanfiction#SPN Fan Fic#Writing#Writers#Libraries#library#thursday
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Food on a budget- and not the shit they teach you in school
Okay children listen up, i recently went to a bunch of high school graduates leavers classes where they teach you real life shit. Ofc, me being the money conscious hoe that I am, went to the “food on a budget” where they were supposed to teach us how to eat on a budget. What did the teacher do? Get us to make a detox brocolli soup...
Clearly, she took, food on a budget as when you don’t want to spend 20 pounds on a meal. However, I was expecting, “when you literally have 10 pounds in the bank and you can only use 5 of them or the bank will start fining you, and it’s like 2 weeks until pay day” level of budget. So, I’ve decided to spread my (albeit limited) knowledge of what to do when you’re at that level of budget.
Okay, first things first, I know what is cheap in the country I live in, not where you live, so I’m sorry if soemthing i mention is absurdly expensive in your country.
1) this seems dumb but: LEARN TO STRETCH YOUR EGGS. My father will refuse to eat omlettes, scrambled eggs, French toast etc with milk in them, but that is how you stretch your eggs. I know you might add a little bit of milk or cream but (for me at least) a big ass jug of milk is cheaper than a 6 pack of eggs, so stick half the amount of eggs in you would usually use (I would use two so I use one) and then pour a hefty amount of milk in (like 1/4 of a cup). Boom now you have the same amount of food and double the amount of eggs left.
2) if you know that you might not be able to buy food for a while, then assess what you already have. That meat you didn’t like? Semi off fruit? Eat it. Eat that shit within the next few days. The fruit? Blend it, it’ll be fine in a smoothie. The meat? Suck it up, or shove it in a sandwich with some overpowering condiments so you can’t taste it. Next, you got any vegetable or meat scraps? Even like onion skin? Chuck it in a pot with some water and just let it simmer for a few hours. Then put it through a sieve and just keep the liquid in the fridge (or pour it into your ice cube tray) (you’ll thank me later). Then...
3) look at your non perishables, what do you have? Do you have oats? Or rice? Or pasta? If so then good!! Forget everything a lifestyle YouTuber has ever told you. Carbs fill you up, they’re slow burning and they’ll keep you fuller for longer. They 👏🏻 are 👏🏻 good 👏🏻
4) okay, so you’ve eaten all your perishables? You’ve assessed what you have in your pantry? Okay, now it’s time for you to spend that £5 in your bank account (after you raid your house and every pocket and bag you own to see if you have any more money, so let’s say you found another £3). What you want to do is buy shit that keeps you full and is cheap. What did we say about that? CARBS. Right, so get yourself a bag of oats, forget about the GMO crop spraying shit, you need food, so don’t buy the organic shit or the name brand stuff. Suck it up and get the cheapest, biggest bag you can find. And yes, sometimes this means doing maths (stay for a bit and I’ll teach you how to figure out which is better for the cost okay?? Okay). Those oats you picked up? They’re now your breakfast for a hot minute okay? Next, rice. That shit can be eaten for every meal, it’s boring as hell but if you get desperate enough stick some ketchup or jam or something on there if you can find some at the back of your fridge (tip: do you have a China market nearby? Or like any kind of Asian grocery store? Rice will be cheaper in there and you’ll get bigger bags) utilise it.
5) stay away from meat! Meat is usually expensive as hell anywhere you go but if you can find some janky ass, has just been reduced to hell and back because it expired yesterday, then buy it! If it’s a day or two old then it’s fine, dw you won’t die. Chill out, cook it real basic and and then cut it up into cubes. Pack them into your freezer in small ass portions and whenever you feel like you can’t eat any more rice or that you’re lacking some nutrients. Take them out, let it defrost for a bit and stick it in a pot with some seasoning and let it heat up for a bit then shove it in your rice. Remember that stock you made with your scraps? This is its time to shine!! Pour a little into your pot with your meat, it’ll give the rice and meat some flavour.
6) now it’s time for some maths bitches, you read6? Okay. This is the life saver here check the price of whatever you’re buying, let’s say it’s a bag of oats and it costs £3.50 and then check the weight of the bag let’s say it’s a 1kg bag. Convert that shit to grams, so that’s 1000 grams. Then do the price (3.5) divided by the weight (1000 grams). So, 3.5/1000 and that gives you 0.0035. That means that each gram of this oats is worth £0.0035 okay? So now you do the same with another bag of oats and you’ll see how much 1g of oats is in that bag. Then compare? Which is cheaper? Buy the cheaper one.
7) okay, i think I’ve exhausted my tips for what to do when you already have no money but what can you do when you’ve just been paid and you know you always end up short buy the end of the month? Basically, my main top is make a shot ton of soup and chilli and stews and that sort of thing, they’re pretty cheap to make and stock full of nutrients. Make double or even triple the quantity of what the recipe says (times everything by 2 or 3), eat a portion for dinner that night, leave a portion or two worth in your fridge, and freeze the rest. That means when you get to the end of the month and you start running out of food and money, you have some reserves in addition to everything I said above.
Idk if this was helpful, but if it taught one person, one thing then I’ll be happy.
#food on a budget#feeding yourself on a budget#mayas adventures in the real world#not book related#not aftg#food#budget#no money#poor#waiting for pay day#feeding yourself#student tips#tips#budgeting tips
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sweet Demons, Part 1 - Zeitgeist/Axel Cluney
Title: Sweet Demons
Description: It's the weekend of Friday the Thirteenth, the biggest motorcycle rally and festival in the Western Hemisphere but nothing is more enticingly chaotic to her than the mysterious new member of the famous Motor City Sweet Demons.
Warning: 18+ Mentions of drugs/alcohol/violence, eventual smut/various kinks
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
"Angel? You don't mind hanging all of this up in the backyard would ya, sweetheart?"
Dad carried a big basket full of freshly washed towels and bedding. With a fake sour look I took the basket from his grip and sighed, "Well, I suppose if you're having me here for the Summer I might as well make myself useful, huh?"
"I've got to run out to grab provisions."
"That wouldn't happen to include a trip to the liquor store would it?" I asked him, faking innocence this time.
Dad tried to avoid my stare as he shoved his wallet, cigarettes and lighter into the inner pockets of his leather vest. "Remind me again how old you are?"
"Old enough to drink, old man," I leaned over and gave him a small peck on his stubbly cheek while giggling. "I'll take a bottle of red wine. Any kind will do. Oh! And some gin. And if you're going to the grocery store would you mind picking me up some ginger ale and lemonade?"
"Damn kid, can't you just drink beer like the rest of us simple folk?"
"Simple folk? Dad... These are your people."
"Ah, quiet you. Will you write me down a list?"
"I can text you just as easily."
"I hate my piece of shit phone. Just write it down or you'll get what I remember and the way my mind is going-"
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Give me a second."
I jotted down a list of items on the back of a liquor store receipt and handed it to my father, He jokingly snatched it from my hand and read it incredulously. After a wink and a promise to be back in an hour, I watched him make his way out of the house and down the driveway to his truck. I took notice of his worsening limp. It filled me with curious remorse to see him struggle to hoist himself up into his ridiculously over-sized truck like my lengthy absence had somehow made it worse since my visits had been infrequent over the years.
The distant drone of motorcycles soon drowned out my thoughts and I huffed, snatching the basket of laundry to go outside into the backyard clothesline. The July sun was ablaze and the sound of people hooting and hollering over blaring radio rock music sounded from all directions. Everyone was in their backyards barbecuing and drinking, enjoying the perfect weather. Not only that, but leagues and leagues of motorcycles were already starting to make their way into town for Friday the Thirteenth- a tradition in my town that had been going on for longer than I had existed.
Every year and sometimes twice a year for the die-hards, hoards of bikers came to our little beach town in gathering to celebrate Friday the Thirteenth. It was a legendary motorcycle rally that drew hundreds of thousands of people into town. Given that the population hovered over six thousand, it tended to get crowded and downright overwhelming. Every single year since before I was born, thousands of bikes would come chugging into town from every direction to line the streets with metal. Biker gangs, clubs, racers, leisure riders, and tourists flocked into the streets, cutting off most of the normally lazy town's circulation for one day.
Friday the Thirteenth meant so much in my town that they had even attempted a world record but had failed due to a technicality. Each year it got bigger and bigger, and growing up among the bi-annual chaos had been equal parts amazing and terrifying. It helped shape me and exposed me to things that no young child shoulder ever bear witness to.
Besides the streets I played in being flanked by rows upon rows of motorcycles, there were hoards of bikers and the clashing of egos that usually came with being around a bunch of scary guys who may or may not have been in and out of jail cells. When I was young, I found it all very scary but as I grew up with it I also grew accustomed to the company of the less-than-civil. After all, my father owned a bike shop and had been fixing, building, buying and selling motorcycles his entire life. The smell of oil alone was something that could give me nightmares.
As I got older, there were a couple of years when Friday the Thirteenth was the most exciting time of my life. It was better than Christmas to me because I got to hang around people who had travelled the world and had unbelievable stories to tell. People came and went from my house regularly because of my father being so well-known in the community and as he would like to believe, all across North America. His bike shop was a haven for cyclists and served as the clubhouse every year when his old bike gang came into town.
His old gang was called the Motor City Sweet Demons because of the co-founder, Frank Sweet. He had passed away before I was born but I heard many stories about him from Dad. Frank Sweet and my father had grown up best friends and started working on dirt bikes together as young boys. Their bond and mutual interest solidified a pact that they would open their own shop and ride motorcycles until death. Unfortunately, an accident had claimed Frank Sweet's life, but the gang continued on and my father became the President for decades.
Once his health began to rapidly decline, he retired from the gang and called in Frank Sweet's son Max to take over the role of President. That gang had spent many nights under our roof and became somewhat of an extended family to me; A family that returned a couple times a year to drink excessive amounts of alcohol and smoke too many cigarettes while revving their engines loudly through the nights.
The older I got, the more I hated the tradition, and the more I wanted to escape my hometown. I began to hate bikers and the sound of motorcycles annoyed the hell out of me. It was no help when my dad tried to rope me in as an apprentice, claiming I was his only heir to his legacy. Respectfully enough, I declined the offer. He knew that bikes weren't my thing and, although deeply disappointed that I didn't share his affinity for bikes, he was also strangely understanding. He never over-pressured me to become anything besides what I wanted to be and for that, I was thankful.
I managed to get away for a few years on the premise of going to school. It was the only option I had after high school to make it so I never had to spend another shitty Friday in November or a freezing Thirteenth of February in my town ever again. Yet there I was, in my dad's backyard, hanging up clothes on the day before my first Friday the Thirteenth in almost four years. I had finished school and was forced to move again. Because of the squeezed job market, I couldn't find employment and certainly could not afford my own apartment with how much student debt I had accrued so I was left with no convenient choice but to move back in with my dad until I found another way out again.
The four years that had passed was enough for me to evolve from an apathetic teenager to a somewhat less apathetic adult with a taste for drinking and a love of partying. My dad didn't know that I had spent a giant portion of my time in school going to raging parties all the time and had procured a partiality to spending my nights wasted, dancing and fucking. The idea of a Friday the Thirteenth celebration actually sounded rather inviting now that I was of age to be taken seriously among the likes of the Sweet Demons and countless other famous bike gangs from across the country.
I preemptively decided that I was going to have a really good time and woke up the morning of Friday the Thirteenth by the sounds of bikes ripping by my old man's house at nine in the morning with a smile on my face.
I showered and put on a pair of black jeans that I had cut off at the knee and a black tank top before bouncing down the stairs to get the day started right. The kitchen fridge was just as stocked with beer as it had been the night before. Without a second thought, I opened one with a satisfying tssst and started drinking it before my dad found me because I knew he would have something to say about the fact that my first meal of the day had come out of a brown bottle.
After I chugged it down, I brought the bottle to the garage where all of the empty ones were stored but found that somebody was already there and it wasn't my dad. It was Braun.
"What the fuck? Braun? What are you doing here?" I asked, shocked to see my old high school friend hard at work on a bike's skeleton that only had the front wheel on it.
"Oh... Hi Angel. I'm just working on my bike before the show today."
"Your bike?" I asked, incredulous and still taken aback that he was in my dad's garage.
"Y-yeah. I, uh, yeah. I kind of work for your dad now."
"He's my apprentice," my dad's gruff voice sounded from behind me.
I turned around, forgetting about the empty beer bottle I had clutched in my hand. His eyes automatically landed on it and he shook his head. "Little early to be catchin' a buzz, isn't it, Angel?"
"Can you guys stop fucking calling me Angel. You know I hate that shit."
"Well," Dad said, eyeing the bottle in my hand once more with only a tinge of disdain but mostly amusement. "She certainly don't act like it, does she?"
"So you finally found somebody worthy enough to work in the garage, huh?" I asked.
"Ah, he's as good as any apprentice. Aren't you, Braun?"
"I'd like to think so," Braun said quietly in that nervous way that reminded me instantly of how he was in my high school memories of him.
Not much had changed for Braun except for now he had the permanently stained hands of a mechanic, a nose that had been broken one too many times and had grown nearly another foot. He was easily six foot three and just as gawky as I remembered him. Braun stood out in my mind forever because I had famously rejected his prom proposal and he made a huge crying scene over it, earning him a very unflattering nickname for a guy that was just starting to experience full-throttle puberty. I toyed with the idea of reminding him that a couple of months proceeding our senior prom, kids all over school called him Sniffles.
Recalling that memory made my mouth twist as I tried to contain a giggle. Both of them looked at me until I shook my head, remembering that I had gone into the garage to dispose of the empty beer bottle but instead got caught red-handed.
"The Sweets will be here any minute so open that garage door and move that piece outta here, Braun. We'll need all the room we can get on the driveway and in here."
"Don't the bikes usually fit on the driveway?" I recalled inquisitively.
"Not since there have been new members."
"Oh, shit... Max recruited?"
"I don't know," Dad waved his hand dismissively. "The kid does whatever he wants. Any fuckin' kid with a bike and an attitude can join the Sweets now. When I was President, you had to be one of the meanest, baddest motherfuckers around to even ride with us. Max has gone all soft over the years. Lettin' girls into the gang and bragging about how he's all open-minded."
"Max let a girl in the club? Now that's awesome." I smiled and it was apparently infectious because Braun smiled too.
"He's a good kid but, shit, is that club miles and miles away from what Frank and I started."
"Welcome to the twenty-first century, Pops! Did you know they let women vote now?" I chimed, shoving the empty bottle into a box with several other musty bottles.
The real party didn't start until the Sweet Demons rolled up onto our normally quiet suburban street and started filing into the long driveway that led up to the open garage door. It was a noisy parade of shiny black bikes, blaring engines, glinting helmets, demonic face masks, aviator sunglasses and matching leather vests; assaulting to the senses and perhaps a bit frightening for anyone new to how we celebrated Friday the Thirteenth. I stood at the top of the driveway beside my dad as they all pulled in, Max first and the rest of them following behind like they had rehearsed it all before. My dad had been right, there were at least five more bikes than I remembered, bikes that I didn't recognize with unfamiliar people riding them.
Once Max rolled up on his 1985 Virago 1000, he killed the engine and the rest of the gang did the same one after the other, all lining up to park their bikes side by side on the cement. He pulled off his helmet and set it on the seat of his bike, yanked a glove off one hand and approached my father with it stretched out. Even though dad had just been ragging on him, he greeted Max with a hearty slap on the back that was returned just as enthusiastically if not more so.
"Fuck, be careful, kid, I'm frail these days," Dad said.
Max was a dashing young guy with a pretty face and just about everything about him reminded me of a Disney Prince from his blue eyes to his blond hair. If it hadn't been for his black leather vest with the word "President" embroidered in white and his gold tooth, he could have easily passed for a model.
Behind him, I recognized Jimmy and Bradley Fox, two brothers that had known me since I was born. Being away for over four years had aged them all from what was in my memory. Jimmy had much more gray hair and Bradley had become softer in the belly and had permanent crow's feet that branched out towards the old English-style tattoos on his face. When I was twelve, I had had a crush on Bradley Fox, a man twenty years older than me all because we knew him around town as Foxy Bradley or just Fox. He was known for being a lady killer but when I saw him then, it looked like he had been killing cases of beer, pizzas and cartons of Paul Malls.
Nevertheless, I greeted them with nothing but kindness. I was all swept up in the pleasantries of seeing people that had been a part of my life not all that long ago that I didn't notice somebody unfamiliar coming up the driveway. It must have been one of their recruits because I had never seen him before and he looked to be only slightly older than me.
He wore the most obnoxiously green boots as if the scattered tattoos on his arms weren't enough to draw attention. He had this way of sauntering that was noticeable mainly due to his height but also because his fashion choices were totally questionable. When I noticed the mesh tank top underneath his leather jacket I rose my eyebrow in his direction. He didn't quite notice me for a moment as he was taking in the scenery of the garage but when he did, fuck did our eyes ever meet.
His brown hair was all wind-swept backward, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week but the sharpness of his cheekbones drew my attention anyway. I started taking in the little details about him like the tattoo on his neck that said eat shit and die.
Oh damn, I thought, we have a bad boy in our presence.
I could just tell from the first thirty seconds of him being around me that he was full of destruction and I couldn't look away. He was an accident waiting to happen and the adrenaline rush I got just from locking stares with him was enough to assure that. His eyes scanned me from head to toe and back up again like lasers and once we looked too long we both pretended like we didn't really see each other in the first place.
"So Max... Are you going to introduce us to your newcomers?" I asked, only giving a slight indication that I wanted to know more about the tower of a guy with the green boots and mystical eyes.
"Yeah, of course. Guys... This is Al and Angel. You all know about Al and this is his daughter."
"I was head of your club when you were still shitting your pants," Dad said loudly enough for everyone to hear and laugh too.
Out of the group, the woman was the first to approach us and offer her hand to shake. She was tall in her heavy leather riding boots and had a long shiny, tightly wound black braid that came down from the base of her skull and laid over one shoulder like a thick tail. She must have been in her thirties and looked just as forbidding as any biker I had ever met. She was friendly though and introduced herself as Janet Adams.
Then it was bad boy's turn to introduce himself. He gripped my dad's hand tightly and shook it with a nod. "Name's Axel. Nice to meet you and your daughter, sir."
"What, do you have to be over six feet to join the Demons now? I feel like I'm talking to a bunch of circus freaks!"
Axel laughed with my dad and they both expressed how great it was to meet. As much as Dad liked to give people the shit, he was one of the most welcoming people in the world. Despite his outlaw background, most anybody willing to share a beer and a conversation could do so pleasantly enough with him if they could take a roasting here and there.
Axel then turned to me as more conversations took over in the garage. He nodded his head curtly but didn't offer his hand. Instead, he hooked his thumbs on his hips and stared at me as though he expected me to do something about it. I noticed the word "Zeitgeist" was embroidered on his jacket. I knew that meant something. Nobody in the Sweet Demons was allowed to have patches that weren't approved let alone having something embroidered into the coveted material that was the vest. I immediately wanted to know what it meant but before I could open my mouth, I decided to withhold all questioning.
"Uh, hi," I said as I cocked my head in his direction after noticing his eyes lingering with questions.
"Angel?" he verified.
"Yes?"
He simpered at me and dropped one square hip with attitude, "I guess we'll see about that."
The angles of his face shifted with his smile as mine must have in my surprised reaction.
"Alright, alright!" Dad piped up over the low crawl of the dozen people that had piled into the garage. "Between here and the clubhouse, you're all welcome to stay, come and go as you please but with respect. If I catch anyone touching my bikes, I'll break your fingers. Same goes for the daughter!"
They all hooted, clapped and cheered and just as quick as they came, they made short work of taking over the place. It was easy to get lost in the chaos and with more bikes pouring into town by the minute the more distractions there were.
Down by the beach all manner of people were clogging up the streets, overfilling the storefronts and restaurants and spilling out over the sand and the pier. Street vendors had already erected their tents and the town was in full swing by noon. Friday the Thirteenth mode was activated. It was the only time of the year when anybody could walk down the street in front of a cop with a beer in hand so people liked to take full advantage of it.
I was no stranger to the hurricane of noise and the sweltering heat created by hundreds of engines growling in the summer air. It was such a hot day that even the beach was no refuge from it. The arcing bar of sand was so jam-packed with towels that it looked like a bustling mosaic from the pier.
I didn't spend much time outside, merely walked the main strip of the town where the majority of the attractions were set up. Once I had had enough of it I went back to the house and found it empty of people. I grabbed my bottle of wine and made my way to the clubhouse, which was really just a space above the garage that my dad had turned I to the ultimate hang out spot.
The clubhouse was a highly stylized, dimly lit cave with three small rooms and a row of couches for lounging and crashing on. Dad had put a pool table and a bar inside it too, of course. No biker clubhouse would be complete without the key attraction of billiards and alcohol consumption. The decor was exactly what you would expect to see in a biker flophouse; vintage road signs, Harley Davidson memorabilia and a couple nudie posters from the eighties. I used to never be allowed in the clubhouse but since I was an adult now, I walked through it proudly, like I owned it.
The later it got the more people came up to experience the splendor that was the original Motor City Sweet Demon meet spot. All the Sweet Demons were perched at the bar and acted as a leather-clad human barrier between other visitors and the alcohol stores. Most people brought their own alcohol and weed anyway. It was all people that knew my dad and the drunker I got the more I realized that I hardly knew a soul besides the guys who had been coming around for decades.
Braun came up to me in the clubhouse and flashed a meek smile before approaching. I had been sitting at one of the tall bar tables next to a couple playing pool. He shoved his hands into his pockets in that nervous way that made me think about school and how long it had been since I had been home.
"Hey, Ange-... I mean-"
"It's fine. I don't really care. I know it's out of habit."
"Sorry. I know you probably hate it."
"Don't worry about it... Mister Sniffles," I tittered.
"Oh, come on! You can't bring that up."
"Sorry, I thought we were calling each other by nicknames that we had in high school."
"Fair enough," Braun took his hands out of his pockets and held them up in surrender.
He was skinny and his long, thin arms made it even worse. Braun had these monstrously large hands with fingers like an arachnid. The sad part about it was that he hadn't been too bad looking before he broke his nose. It never did heal right and I remember thinking how shitty it was to see him walking the halls at school and the streets with a busted, swollen, purple nose.
I knew that he still liked me by the way his eyes kept sinking down from my face to my chest and then, catching himself, would shoot back up to my face. I didn't want to draw attention to it either because I knew that it could have an effect on his work with my dad and that was something I couldn't throw a wrench into. Luckily, my attention was pulled away when I saw a pair of acid green boots clunking up the stairs of the clubhouse.
Axel had this pout that existed whenever he wasn't paying much attention and watching the way he smiled when he was greeted by friends made something inside of my stomach begin to stir. His smile was something else, his eyes, devastating. I could not look away from him. My gaze followed him as he passed, took notice of the bar and approached it with his arms stretched out to wrap around the shoulders of Max Sweet and Jimmy.
He was just as tall as Braun and even had a similar body structure except Axel had lean muscles, legs that walked with purpose and a face that was hard to forget. I watched him lean over the bar and before it became too obvious I forced myself to rip my eyes away, though the image of him in his mesh tank and green boots was burned into the back of my brain.
Braun quirked the corner of his mouth. "I can't believe Max let that guy join the Demons."
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't know, look at the way he dresses. It's just... Weird."
"Have you seen half the people in this town right now? He fits right in."
"Not really. He kind of sticks out like a sore thumb."
"And the rest of them don't? I think you're just jealous that you don't get to ride with a crew... Yet."
"Big Al says he'll put in a good word for me with Max."
I hopped off the tall bar stool I had been sitting on for long enough to lose feeling in my legs and before I exited my conversation with Braun I looked him up and down and said, "if you want to get in with the Sweets you might want to start taking fashion advice from Axel then. Or better yet... Bradley Fox. He can fix you up with some nice face tattoos!"
"Yeah, right," Braun chortled as I walked away from him.
There was an opening at the end of the bar that I claimed and once I poked my head over I caught my dad's attention. He and I hadn't really seen much of each other that day as he was busy hosting and being revered for his legendary status and I was milling around town drinking red wine from a plastic cup, getting drunk on my drink of choice while almost everybody else did the exact same thing. I had stopped to talk to some folks that I knew from down the street and bumped into more old high school friends but I didn't have much of a chance to talk to any of the guys from Dad's old club.
When Dad saw me he cut his conversation with Jimmy off and approached, joking about needing to see an ID card before he opened me a beer that I didn't ask for. When he slid it over the bar top I took it in my hand and acted confused.
"This isn't the Jager I ordered."
"Quiet you and drink your beer!" Dad admonished. "I can't believe I'm saying that to my own daughter."
"Yeah, Angel," said Bradley Fox. "Last time I saw you, you had to have been four feet tall."
"Where does all the fucking time go?" Jimmy added.
Although everyone was talking to me, I couldn't help but stare at the opposite end of the bar where Axel was chugging a beer down, his larynx bobbing in his long throat, lips pursed around the neck. His hair was slick from the grease of having a helmet on but he still looked good and when he slammed the empty beer bottle down on the bar he said, "I agree with Angel. I think it's time for a shot of Jager."
"Listen here, newcomer, I'll decide when it's Jager time," Dad said, looking down at his watch and then back up again. "It's time."
Six shot glasses were lined up and filled with the thick, dark liquid that had been the culprit, or at the very least the accomplice of many booze-fueled shenanigans caused in town by the Motor City Sweet Demons. When we all raised our shots, Axel and I looked at each other but instead of looking away, we kept our eyes locked, threw back our shots and then put the glasses back down on the bar top.
I wanted to talk to him but I didn't know how to get him alone. Axel seemed to have made close friends with the rest of the Demons and was often enthralled in conversation with somebody else. I tried not to pine too much over him but every once in a while I would catch him staring and it would make me smile, causing him to smirk.
It wasn't until they started singing karaoke that he and I solidified something, an intention for later.
The first person to start singing was Bradley Fox and he chose a Guns 'N Roses classic as he usually did. It was only amusing to me because I had watched him perform the same song nearly every year and each time it for worse and worse as his crowd grew bigger and bigger.
My dad got up on the little makeshift stage and sang Another Brick in the Wall by Pink Floyd. Mostly everybody joined in for the gang vocals, even me.
The alcohol was really starting to get to me and I figured if I was going to get up on stage to blow everyone away I might have to chug a glass of water and have a cigarette to center myself. It wasn't that I was nervous, it was just that I wasn't sure if I could still pull off the song I wanted to do. I had an idea and popped up off my stoop to find Braun.
"Braun!" I exclaimed when I found him in line for the bathroom.
"Hey, Angel, what's up?"
"I wanted to ask you something... Do you remember back when Olivia Gardiner used to have karaoke parties?"
Braun laughed, "yeah, of course, I do."
"Remember the song we did together?"
"You mean the song we learned all the lyrics to and then you chickened out?"
"Yeah... Do you want to like... See if we can give it a go?"
Braun's sunken cheeks turned a little pink with the thought of going up on stage in front of all the guests and the members of the Sweet Demons but with a little more gentle begging I got him to agree to do the female part of the song What's Your Fantasy by Ludacris.
It was a long and fast rap that I requested especially because it was so overly sexual to the point of comedy and anyone willing to learn the words was obviously not fucking around.
When it was our turn it took a bit of tugging to get Braun on stage with me but when the music started it was hard not to let loose and go for it. I saw my dad behind the bar with his thick arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head with a smirk.
Some of the girls in the clubhouse started dancing to our song and when Axel emerged from the clusters of laughing people he had an undeniable smile on his face and that's when I zeroed in on and started singing the lyrics right at him, forgetting Braun behind me on stage and all of the other people surrounding us. Axel crossed his arms too and watched on as we performed our song to completion much to the joy of everybody in the clubhouse.
His eyes were stuck on me like a beam as I got off the stage and treated myself to one more drink. I had a feeling that I wouldn't have to go looking for him and I was right. He came up from behind where I was sitting on the bar stool and blinked profusely in a cartoonishly disbelieving way.
"Did that really just happen? Did you just perform Ludacris' hit song from eighteen years ago front to back without even looking at the lyrics on the screen?"
I tried not to laugh with liquid in my mouth but it was hard not to, as my plan seemed to have worked perfectly and I had impressed him with one of my limited amount of party tricks. Luckily for me, that seemed to take me far enough as to really snatch his attention.
"Are you going to do a song?"
"Me?" He laughed. "Fuck no."
"Why not? Everyone else is doing it."
"I might throw up."
"Aw, stage fright?"
"Something like that." He said with a hint of unease.
"That's alright, we can just watch Fox do a dozen Aerosmith songs for the rest of the night. He's so good at them."
Axel shook his head as we both watched Bradley Fox do his second song of the night.
"The man can sing but fuck his dance moves are bad."
"Something tells me you're not much of a dancer either."
"What gave that away?" He asked with a laugh. "My pale snow-white skin?"
"I have never seen a white man over six feet tall that was able to dance well."
"Oh yeah? Well, guess what? You're absolutely fucking right. I dance like someone's uncle."
I laughed maybe a bit too hard at what he said but when I saw him pull a pack of cigarettes out I settled down, mentally berating myself for being too giggly.
"Care to join me?" Axel asked, offering his elbow for me to hook my arm through.
I felt my heart jump up and punch me in the throat but I quickly slunk off the stool to take him up on it.
I don't think anyone saw me leaving with Axel but I also wasn't paying much attention to anything but how tall he was and the novelty of linking arms with him was made even more amusing by the length of his limbs. He pulled me closer, encouraging me to keep up with his step as we made our way down the steps to the backyard.
"You know.. You can smoke in the clubhouse," I told him.
"It's fine. I like the fresh air."
I looked up at the darkened sky but the beauty of the starscape was lost by the sound of engines revving and rubber burning against the pavement in the distance.
"So you're the heir of the Motor City Bike Shop? You don't seem like much of a rider." He mused as he opened his pack of cigarettes to offer me one.
I scoffed at him as I plucked one out from the pack and stuck it between my lips. "That's because I'm not and I don't know who you've been talking to but I'm not inheriting shit."
"You don't want to own this?" He motioned toward the clubhouse and garage.
"I don't care that much about bikes."
"Yeah," Axel agreed as he lit his cigarette and then mine. "I can tell you're more of an artsy type, anyway."
"Oh, you have me pinned already, do you?" I blinked profusely.
"I saw some textbooks when I went poking around in your underwear drawer," he admitted, a dastardly smile on his face despite his joking tone.
"Those could be anyone's books."
"But they're yours."
"You're right."
"I know I'm right."
"What about you? How did you become a member of the Sweet Demons? Last time I checked it was a pretty exclusive club."
"I guess I just found myself in the right place at the right time."
"And that?" I pointed at the embroidered word on his vest. "What's that?"
"That's me."
"Zeitgeist?"
"It's just a nickname."
"It can't be just a nickname if it's on your jacket."
"You and Al have this weird thing about club rules, don't you?"
"I just want to know the meaning."
"Join the Demons then if you want to know so badly," he said with a wink.
#zeitgeist fanfiction#au zeitgeist#axel cluney fanfiction#bill skarsgård fanfiction#bill skarsgard fanfiction#fanfiction
84 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
smallnotfound
☔️🖍 gog 🖍☔️
rynmelanin
🧞♀️je t’aime.aaryn🧞♀️
mousebis
My reblog
chocolatina
epilogue