#i just signed up to a bake sale at work so at least i know what im making | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaotic-on-main · 7 months

Note

So glad you reblogged this because I did not see your post about this event before. And I almost missed it! 😱 But now I'm here… hi, Sky! Congrats on your milestone, dear! ❤️

I would be interested in one matcha green tea ice cream with cookie crumbles on top. If it's okay, could it be something like Levi comforting the reader while they're anxious and stressed? Something with nice calming domestic vibes maybe?

Order up!! One matcha green tea with cookie crumbles for Rose!!

Sky's Summer Fall and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairing ➼ Levi Ackerman x cisfem!Reader

☾ Content/Warning ➼ modernAU, pregnancy, anxiety, established relationship, pregnancy reveal

☾ A/N ➼ hi rose!! again, sorry it's taken me so long to get to this. this wasn't the initial path i had planned, but i think it went better than expected!! also i know i said i wouldn't write a pregnant reader, but i was inspired and i love the idea of dadvi even though i don't see myself wanting kids. there's something to unexpectedly soft about dad levi, and i love to imagine it. i mean, he's already so dad coded considering how many kids he adopts lol. also for anyone seeing this, the rest of my requests are no longer summer themed LMAO. i'm gonna have to do something simple for my next event a;lsdkfjalj

☾ Word Count ➼ ~1.9k

The pattering of raindrops on window panes is a sound that brings comfort to you, doubly so during this time of year. Orange and red leaves lie dormant on the wet pavement only to be run over by various cars going home for the evening. With the end of the year holidays looming around the corner, excitement fills the air. But not for you. Instead, it's overwhelming anxiety, and the rain does not bring the comfort you seek.

You're so in your head that you don't hear the keys in the door and the light footsteps of your husband coming home from work. As you toss some chocolate chips into the red bowl full of light brown dough, your mind bounces from one thought to another. Some thoughts hurt worse than others and you find yourself almost choking up until you force yourself to think of something else.

Long, cold fingers wrap around your wrist as you go to pick up a silicone spatula, holding your arm up midair. You're so startled at the sudden touch that you drop it straight into the bowl – thank god it was mixed enough to not splatter. When your eyes snap to the source, the automatic relief that normally comes with seeing those beautiful gray eyes doesn't wash over you. You’ve underestimated the anxiety that courses through your veins like ice.

“What's wrong?” Your husband's low voice comes out careful.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about right now. Welcome home!” You force out, your lips pulling back on your teeth in a reassuring smile. Levi Ackerman has known you for far too long, and he wasn't stupid. His eyes scan the messy kitchen counters with furrowed brows.

“I count at least 4 mixing bowls, most half filled and only a few finished products. Either you've signed up for a bake sale, or something is wrong. You only get like this when something is bothering you.” Levi's eyes go back to yours.

“I- uh. It's nothing, really.” You check the clock on the stove and gasp. “I didn't realize the time, and I haven't even started on dinner yet. I'm so sorry.” You quickly push aside your mess to make room for some space.

“Go sit down.” Levi says as he puts his keys and phone in the little wicker basket that sits on the far end of the counter.

“No, it's okay! I can do this.” You don't even know what to make for dinner. You've been in a downward spiral all day and haven't thought that far ahead. The sound of glass bottles rattle as you open the fridge doors to peek at your options - only to find them extremely limited. You should have gone to the grocery store earlier today.

The fridge closes in front of you as Levi pushes his way in front of you. Suddenly his hands are cupping your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks in a way he knows is comforting to you. You just now notice his hair slicked back, stuck in place from the rain outside. Black eyebrows scrunch together in concern as he stares at you.

“Levi, I don't need help. I can do this myself.” You mutter.

“Go sit down.” He repeats, softer this time. You stare back, trying to find the energy to argue. But you have none, so you make your way over to the plush navy couch in the living room. In a means to help comfort you, you pull your knees to your chest and stare out the window. Night time has made its way home, the yellow streetlights hazily glowing through the cold rain. It takes everything within you to focus on what you see and hear, and not what races through your mind.

Either you dozed off or fell into a trance because before you know it, Levi comes over and taps your shoulder. You blink a few times as your eyes adjust to what he's holding out to you – a bowl and a glass of water.

“I bet you haven't hydrated once today, have you?” He raises a brow.

“I've been busy?” You give him a small smile, but take the glass anyway. He sets the bowl down in front of you on the coffee table. You didn't even need to see it to know what it was as the smell of it wafts from the kitchen to your nose. Spaghetti, and Levi's spaghetti at that. Well, technically Kuchel’s - Levi's mom – recipe. From the moment he had made it for you when you both first started dating, you knew this was the best recipe you have or will ever taste.

Not only was it delicious, though, it was comforting. It was home.

“Oh, Levi.” You sigh as you reach over to place your glass down so you can pick up the warm bowl in two hands. The smell of herbs and tomatoes dance in your nostrils as you breathe in deeply. You don't hesitate to poke your fork into the red pasta and slurp up the saucy noodles.

The sofa shifts as Levi sits next to you, leg crossed as he leans back with his own bowl in hand. He doesn't say anything as he digs in, eyes looking out to the darkened window. It stays silent save for the quiet smacking and the metal clinking on porcelain. For a while, you're distracted yet again as you fill your tummy but eventually your bowl is empty and the dread starts creeping back in.

“Did you want more or…?” Levi breaks you out of your thoughts and your eyes focus back to what you were looking at – the red-streaked bottom of the bowl.

“Oh, no I'm good. Thank you for making dinner. I'm sorry I couldn't have it done by the time you got home.” You smile softly at him as you hand him your bowl. His lips twitch as he regards you. He takes the bowl from you and you think he's about to get up but instead, he sets it on the coffee table and shifts so that he's facing you fully.

“There's nothing to apologize for, dummy. What's going on in that head of yours?” He reaches over and taps your forehead gently with a forefinger.

“I don't know if this is the right time.” You whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I'm home for the night, we have plenty of time before bed.” His hand trails down your face and cups your jaw as he holds your gaze. “What's going on?”

Reaching up, you rest your hand over his and lean into his touch. Then with a shuddering breath, you gently pry his hand off and stand up. Without another word, you make your way to the master bathroom and retrieve what you're looking for. Before exiting, you bend over the sink to take a few deep breaths. You just need to rip this off like a bandaid, you keep repeating to yourself.

Making your way down the hallway back to the living room, your fingers shake. The room grows silent as you hold the little white stick up to eye level the moment you step in front of your extremely confused husband.

Levi has to squint to see the little pink plus sign. There's a range of emotions that flood his face past the initial shock. You know when the realization hits him because his wide eyes flit over to yours as he checks to see if you're kidding. You only nod your head back. There's a moment of excitement that lights up in his eyes before the same look of anxiety that no doubt mirrors your own stares back at you.

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at that.

“I-" Levi chokes on his words.

“It's real.”

You hear Levi inhale loudly as he runs his fingers through his hair and step back as he processes. You’ve been with Levi for so long but even you didn't know how he would react. Children weren't off the table, but you both had agreed to start a family when the time was right. To you, this was the worst possible time with Levi starting a new job and your writing career finally taking off. His reaction is enough to confirm those thoughts. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

“I know this is awful timing. And I’m sure we're not ready. I'm so-" Your last words are cut short into a squeak as a pair of strong arms pull you into a warm chest, the sudden movement causing the pregnancy test to fall and bounce onto the rug. You can feel Levi's heart beating a mile a minute against your own.

“Don't apologize.”

“But you’re not excited.” You’ve started crying and you can feel your tears seeping into Levi's shirt. He pushes you away from him and holds you there. His dark eyes bounce between yours as he regards you.

“Who said I wasn't?"

“I- just your face-"

“I won't pretend to say I'm not nervous. You know, Kenny was the only father figure I had and he wasn't around, not when it mattered, at least. I'm scared, actually.” His eyebrows furrow to match the concern that laces his tone.

“Levi-"

“But this is exciting, and I'm thrilled. And we'll navigate through this like we always do. But, how do you feel about it?”

“Well, I guess I'm scared too. Anxious. Our jobs are just taking off, and while I'm excited for a family with you, I'm just not sure how to take this.” You pull a hand up to wipe away the salty tears that streams down your face.

“We have 9 months, give or take. That's plenty of time for us to figure things out. But is this what you want?” Levi let's go of your arms to cup your face again. That moment of hesitance that graced his features is no longer there, only replaced by love.

“Do you think we'll be ready by then?”

“Who knows. But we can try. We'll figure it out together.” Levi pulls you back in and holds you in his tight embrace. You bury your face in his shirt, once again letting it soak up any leftover tears.

“If it's any consolation, I think you'll be a great dad. I watch the way you interact with your little cousin during get-togethers.”

“Tch. If our child is anything like Mikasa, I'm sure we'll be fine. But if they're like her friend Eren, we're starting over.” You laugh at that and slap his chest playfully.

“Levi, you can't say shit like that.”

“I'm just kidding. Mostly. That Eren kid has something wrong with him, I swear.”

You hold on to him in silence for a bit, taking note of the slowing heart beat between the two of you as the news finally sinks in. You were going to be a mom. You were going to be a parent with Levi.

“Someone needs to eat this. This is way too much for just the two of us.” You hear Levi chuckle. You can't see it, but you know he's staring at the mess you've made all day. You'll be up until 3am making sure everything gets baked so it doesn't go to waste.

“Three of us.” You lean back to look at your husband, smiling at that comment.

“You're right, the three of us.” You feel as Levi gently rests the palm of his hand on your stomach and leans down to kiss you softly. Your anxiety still lingers, but now it's tinged with relief because no matter what life throws at you, Levi is here.

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avatar-anna · 2 years

Text

Better Off

(Part 2)

summary: Harry and Y/n are parents at a private school, and they do NOT like each other

words: 9-10k

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February

“Y/n!”

I was walking back to my car with Maddison after school when I heard my name being called. Hoping that there was another person with my name walking around nearby, I kept going to my car. Maddie had ballet class today and she didn’t like to be late.

“Y/n! Y/n Y/l/n!”

Looks like they were calling me. I turned around to find a blonde woman who looked to be in her early forties walking with purpose in my and Maddison’s direction. Leaning down to Maddie, I whispered in her ear. “Do we know this woman?”

“That’s Delaney’s mom. At the Christmas concert, you said her highlights looked as fake as her—”

“Okay, thank you my little parrot. I remember her now,” I said hurriedly, putting my hand over my daughter’s mouth. Good timing too because Delaney’s mother finally reached us.

“Goodness, you walk fast,” she breathed, laughing lightly at her own joke.

I gave her a weak smile. “Well, you know, people to see, places to go and all that.”

“Right, right. I won’t keep you long,” Delaney’s mom said. I really needed to be better with names. “So, as you know, I’m our classroom’s Room Mom.”

I did not know that. “Right! Of course. You’re Delaney’s mom, right?”

She seemed a little put off that I didn’t know her by name, but I didn’t spend a lot of time around the school outside of picking up and dropping Maddison off. She recovered quickly, though, and her smile returned to her face with ease. “Yes, I’m Molly. I actually came to talk to you about your participation and involvement in our school’s activities.”

Participation and involvement in our school’s activities? I went to school already, now it was my kid’s turn. Why would I have to participate? But I knew that answer wouldn’t fly with the likes of Molly, so I smiled and apologized.

“Sorry about that. I just have the craziest work hours.” True. “I keep looking for opportunities, but I’m always working on a case.” Half true. I was typically always on a case, but that didn’t mean I was looking for opportunities to help out around school.

“Yes well, you see, all of our parents are required to help out with at least one school sanctioned event each year, and somehow you managed to avoid doing so last year.” As she said the last part, she gave me a pointed glance. “I’ve been working on rounding up you and a couple of other parents from our homeroom who still haven’t signed up to volunteer.”

What kind of school was this? “Oh. Well, If you just send me an email or something, I’m sure we can work something out.”

I had no intention of participating in any school sanctioned events, but I found it easier to rebuff someone over email than in person. But it seemed Molly saw right through me.

“Oh, but we’re right here aren’t we? And I have the perfect opportunity for you. It can be a bonding experience for you and your daughter.”

And that’s how I got roped into working a bake sale at a Valentine’s Day carnival.

I didn’t even know why the first grade parents were in charge of the Valentine’s Day event. My kid was six. She wasn’t the targeted demographic for this holiday. I tried to voice my opinion to Molly, who had been on my ass all week to ensure that I actually showed up today, but she wasn’t having it. So here I was, in the school’s gymnasium on a Friday afternoon, which I had to take off work for, selling all sorts of baked goods to students and parents alike.

I was told there was supposed to be one other parent helping me, but they hadn’t shown up yet, which was making me mad. If I had to be here, then so did this other person. Slipping the little flask I’d brought with me out of my purse, I ducked behind the table and took a sip. I wasn’t typically a day drinker, but I’d already had to put up with parents complaining about the prices of the baked goods on the table before me, and I was not going to go through this by myself. Jose Cuervo was here to keep me company.

“I’m no expert on elementary school rules, but I’m pretty sure drinking on campus isn’t allowed.”

I froze, my hands stilling as they twisted the cap back on. Of all the people to help with the bake sale today, it had to be him. I was bad with names, but I unfortunately had no issue remembering his. I had said it numerous times on Halloween, after all. As much as I wanted to forget that night, my mind circled back to it more than I cared to admit.

After a full day of nursing my hangover, my night with Harry slowly came back to me. I finished the drink he offered to pay for, but when it was done, I surprised the both of us by telling him to stay. The drinks I’d consumed before I saw him had loosened me up a little, and I was less inclined to smack him, which apparently also meant I wanted his company at the bar. Sadie, Harry, and I talked for hours, laughing and drinking like we were college students and not adults with actual responsibilities.

And of course, because I became a total flirt when I had a couple drinks, my hand started to land on Harry’s arm, I gave him looks that were a little more than friendly, spurred on by the fact that he seemed pleased by my actions. Eventually, I stood up and declared that I wanted to dance. Sadie, who knew exactly where I was headed with that declaration, feigned tiredness and claimed she had to be up early the next morning. Harry didn’t even question it, standing up with me and waving to the bartender to close out his tab before moving to the dance floor in the next room over. While he did that, I quickly thanked Sadie and told her she was right. “I do need to let loose a little,” I’d said, hugging her as she collected her things.

“You absolutely do. Just be safe, alright? No buns in the oven a couple of weeks from now,” she’d replied, and after I assured her that my night with Harry would end after some dancing and possibly sucking him off in the bathroom, she was off.

Despite my promise to Sadie, and myself, really, I went home with Harry without question. He had been almost as intoxicating as the alcohol I’d consumed that night, so when he called an Uber for the both of us to bring us back to his place, I was all for it.

We’d hardly made it into the entryway of his house before we were all over each other. The second he turned to face me after locking the front door, I was on him, kissing him feverishly and like my life depended on it. The noises he made as I kissed his neck and jaw, as I gripped him through the sparkly fabric of his costume, only spurred me on, made me feel on top of the world.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I’d panted, helping him out of his costume. “I still hate you.”

“Yeah? You hate me? Is that why you’re about to get on your knees for me?” he replied. His smirk was so cocky and yet so alluring. It made me want to smack it right off of him and let him do whatever he damn pleased with me.

And the way he spoke to me had grated on my nerves in the best way, too. At home and at work, I was in charge and there weren’t very many people that I answered to. I took pride in my power, in being confident, in having a commanding presence when I needed it. And yet Harry’s words lit a fire inside of me just as much as pissing off stuffy old lawyers who underestimated me did. And by the way his smile grew, he knew it too. I knew then before we’d even really done anything that I was in for it, that the man in front of me, who I had loathed for months now, was going to ruin me, and I didn’t even care. As long as it was one night, I didn’t see the harm.

So for the last four months now, I’d been avoiding him like the plague. It was actually easier than I thought, seeing as I rarely saw him picking up or dropping off his son, which was fine by me. I never breathed a word of what happened on Halloween to anyone except Sadie, who got an earful from me when I made her tell me what the hell she was thinking for leaving me alone with Harry that night.

“I was thinking you needed to get laid and he’s hot,” she said, like that was all she needed to say.

“Sadie, you know I don’t like him, why on earth would I ever—”

“You actually liked him quite a bit last night.” Her smug grin made me blush. I knew I had a habit of flirting after having a few drinks, but I’ve always been able to control myself. What the hell was in those margaritas? “And, not that you’ll like, care or anything, but he’s actually quite nice.”

I opened my mouth to tell her about his shitty attitude in Principal Stevens’ office and every interaction I’d had with him afterwards, but she beat me to it. “I know, I know, he was an ass. That’s why I never said anything. But I didn’t see any harm in him taking you home. Sex with someone you hate can be really hot.”

And boy was it ever. By the time I woke up (again) in my own bed that morning after Halloween, everything had come back to me. Just thinking about that night made me blush—the things he did, the things I did, every dirty little comment he whispered in my ear. How the hell was I supposed to get through a whole afternoon with him when just looking at him caused flashes of our night together to flood my mind?

“Yeah, well, when you want a sip after dealing with these parents, don’t come crying to me,” I told Harry, doing my best to pretend that nothing had ever happened between us.

Despite how much I might have wanted to stay hiding underneath the bake sale table, I knew I couldn’t. I stood up and turned around to face him.

He looked good, like really good. He was dressed casually in another pair of jeans and a cardigan, but this one was a patchwork of colors and patterns. I looked down at what I was wearing, a pair of jeans and a hoodie I’d had since college, and my birks over socks with little pink hearts on them. I might have been a little underdressed for this stupid thing, but I didn’t want to be here, and I didn’t really care that parents and school staff were giving me disapproving looks, or if a few people asked if I was enjoying my time in college.

When my eyes flicked back to the man in front of me, I could tell he wanted to say something about Halloween, I could see it in his eyes. But I was going to pretend like it didn’t happen until I was blue in the face, so I spoke before he got the chance.

“So, those are fifty cents, those seventy-five, those a dollar, and those a buck fifty. Easy enough to remember. The cash box doesn’t like to open, but if you just kind of, like, pound the top of it with your fist, it gives a little.”

Harry was grinning, but I couldn’t understand why. I certainly had no desire to be here. The only thing keeping me going at this point was that Maddie and I were going to have a girls night tonight. She was around here somewhere with my brother Javi, playing games and winning prizes while I worked the bake sale table, which was not very popular, if sales were anything to go by.

It was silent for a few minutes while a kid who looked about ten came up to the table, stared at the table, and walked away from it without buying anything. Afterwards, Harry blew out a low whistle.

“This sucks,” he stated.

He was preaching to the choir. “Try actually being here on time.”

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, and he sounded genuine. “I got a call that couldn’t wait as I was leaving my house. Would’ve rather been here, believe me.”

I considered his words, and found them to be true. While I tried to be on time to everything, I knew that life got in the way. Lord knows I’d had Sadie take Maddison home on a few occasions because I was held up at work. “It’s fine, I guess,” I said, a little snark in my tone to let him know that it didn’t actually bother me that he was late.

More silence, which was fine with me. Because if we weren’t speaking, there was less of a chance he’d bring up anything that had happened between us four months ago.

For the next hour or so, Harry and I switched off helping out the few people who walked up to our table. He seemed to know most of them, and I half-listened as he talked about one thing or another with a parent. I also didn’t miss the way that the longer Harry had been here, the more people started to come up to our table, the more women started coming up to our table. It was a little creepy how they batted their eyelashes and laughed at the things he said that weren’t funny, but part of me begrudgingly admired the way some of them shamelessly flirted with him.

When the last one walked away with a little wave over her shoulder, I reached into my purse and pulled out my flask to give to him. “Here. You earned it.”

“Thanks,” he said, surprising me by how easily he took it from my hands to take a swig.

He passed it back, and I took a small sip myself before screwing the cap back on and stashing it back in my purse. “Now I know why Molly had you on bake sale duty. You’re great for sales.”

Harry chuckled lightly. “She’s quite persistent, isn’t she?”

I nodded in agreement and grabbed one of the brownies off the table. Tearing off a piece, I popped it in my mouth, only to grab a napkin and spit it right back out. “Holy shit, that was awful! Who made that?”

“Um, I think I did, actually,” Harry said, his voice sheepish. Giving him a funny look, he continued. “My ex, Devon’s mother. She said she’d take care of it.”

“Well, she sucks at baking,” I told him, tossing the wadded up napkin in the trash. “She should’ve done us all a favor and bought something from the store.”

Once again, Harry took me by surprise by throwing his head back and laughing. It was a cute laugh, I thought, but I quickly shook it away.

“Well, then, what did you make?” he asked when he sobered up.

“Those,” I said, pointing to frosted sugar cookies cut into the shape of hearts. “I wanted to do anatomically correct hearts, but Maddie said it would scare the children.”

“She might’ve been onto something,” Harry agreed.

“Yes, well, she’s the smart one in our mother-daughter duo. I just drive her from place to place.”

It was quiet between us again as more women walked up to our table, and I sat back and let Harry handle the housewives, seeing as they were there for him and not the baked goods. I was pretty sure some of them were even here before. Like I said, shameless. When they all flocked away again, I fished out the flask.

“Hold onto it. Something tells me they’ll be back,” I said while he took a couple more sips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Harry asked. Then, getting close enough so that only I could hear him, he whispered in my ear. “Because you don’t need to do that if you’re trying to get me to take you home again.”

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, panic and excitement warring inside me. He had no business having a voice that low or gravelly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to feign cluelessness, but my voice was a little higher pitched than usual.

“I think you do,” Harry sing-songed. “And I think you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

I gulped, hating the way his voice alone was having an effect on me. Where were the housewives when I needed them? I chanced a look at his face, and we were practically nose to nose. He grinned, and that infuriatingly cute dimple indented his cheek.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I blurted, standing up from the stool behind our table. I didn’t even have to go, but I needed to get away from Harry. He was entirely too charming, his smile a little too smug. I hated him. Hated him. I repeated this over and over and over again as I walked around looking for a restroom. Finding one, I slipped inside and leaned my hands against one of the sinks.

“Pull it together, Y/n,” I said, scolding my reflection. “He’s a cocky asshole with a nightmare son. That’s all.”

I turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on my face, hoping that the thoughts of kissing Harry again that had popped up again would go away. Just as I was drying my face with a couple paper towels, the bathroom door quickly opened and shut, and I heard the lock click before I saw Harry through the reflection in the mirror.

“What are you doing in here?” I hissed, my eyes widening as he closed the space between us.

“I thought—Well, I thought…”

“Well you thought wrong!” I whisper-shouted. “We are at our kids’ elementary school, there are children and parents everywhere, and I…hate you,” I finished lamely.

Harry had looked sheepish until that point. That cocky grin of his that I was regrettably familiar with taking over his face. “You hate me? I feel like I’ve heard that before,” he said, his nose pressing against my cheek as he pressed a tiny kiss to my jaw.

He was referring to that night. Halloween. I kept saying that I hated him, but it only seemed to spur him on. I would never admit it to Sadie, but she was right. Sex with someone you hated was thrilling, to say the least.

But he was using his gravelly voice again, the one that both grated on my nerves and sent chills down my spine. Not trusting my voice, I just nodded.

Harry didn’t seem to be swayed by the fact that I nodded. In fact, it only seemed to spur him on, and I hated how thrilled I was by that fact. He stepped closer until there was only an inch between us. “Then I’m very lucky to be hated by you.”

He leaned in so that his lips brushed right up against my ear, and I had to fight off the shiver that was desperately trying to wrack through me. “You wanna know why?”

I gulped again, unable to help my head from bobbing up and down. I felt his hands reach up to my waist and under my hoodie, his thumbs caressing small circles into my skin. My breath hitched in my throat as he spoke again.

“I’ve never been fucked so good in my life. So thank you for hating me.”

His words made me lose all my resolve. Threading my hands through his hair, I brought his lips to mine. It was rushed and hungry, nothing but tongue and teeth as Harry nipped and tugged at my bottom lip.

I absolutely despised how much I enjoyed it, but his lips were too soft, his hands a little too familiar with my body. My eyes fluttered shut as he moved down to my jaw, then the spot just below my ear. Unable to help myself, I gripped his hair harder, and he moaned against my skin. He actually moaned.

His hands reached higher and came dangerously close to my bra when I started to come to my senses again. We were in an elementary school bathroom, for God’s sake. Fuck, my daughter was around here somewhere.

“Harry,” I tried to say, but it sounded breathless.

I felt him grin against my neck. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Harry, we—fuck—we have to stop.”

He stayed where he was, his tongue soothing over where his teeth were and his hands splayed against my ribcage for a couple more seconds, but he eventually pulled away. Both of us were panting, lips swollen and red. I cleared my throat, feeling awkward all of a sudden now that we’d stopped.

“I’m, um, I’m gonna go before Molly kills one of us. Probably me,” I said, not making eye contact with him once. Quickly brushing past him, I reached for the door.

Harry had the common sense to wait a few minutes before returning back to the table. While I was alone at the bake sale, I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and combed through it the best I could with my fingers, trying to cover up the mark I knew was now on my neck.

I was not this person. The kind of person who made out in gymnasium bathrooms at a Valentine’s Day carnival for school children. Maybe that’s what it is, I thought. I’m feeling subconsciously lonely because it’s Valentine’s Day. Whatever the case, it needed to end. I needed to go back to ignoring Harry and keeping him in the back of my mind and focus on being the best mom I could be for Madison.

“Mommy!”

I turned around to see Maddison running towards me, Javi not far behind her. She came around the back of the table to where I was sitting and gave me a big hug. I peppered her face with kisses, holding her tighter when she tried to squirm away from me. She finally wiggled enough to the point where I had to let her go, but she stayed close to my side.

“How’d you do, mija? Win any prizes?”

I humored my daughter for a few minutes while she showed me what she won. It was all stuff I’d probably throw away within the next two days, but in the moment I was happy that she was happy. When she was done, I pointed to the table that still had baked goods on it.

“Guess what, Maddie,” I said, pushing her braids behind her shoulders.

“What?”

“The cookies we baked were a hit. Almost all of them are gone,” I told her proudly, pointing to where there were only two left on the little platter we brought.

Maddison’s face broke out into an even bigger smile than the one she was sporting before, and I smiled back at her. I didn’t really want to be here today, but seeing that smile made almost anything worthwhile. My brother gave me a funny look but didn’t say anything to me, probably clocking the way I was still a little red in the face. Instead, he slipped Maddison a dollar so she could buy something from the table.

“Don’t get those brownies over there. Absolutely dreadful, I hear.” I turned my head to find Harry taking his place back at my side. His face wasn’t flushed anymore, but his lips still looked a little swollen, and I prayed I at least looked better off than he did.

I think he was expecting Maddie to laugh or something, but she just tilted her head as she peered up at him. “You’re Devon’s dad.”

It was like a small bomb had been dropped, and I suddenly felt even worse about sleeping with Harry on Halloween and kissing him in the bathroom just now. To his credit, Harry looked embarrassed as well as he scratched the back of his neck. But his next words took me by surprise.

“Yeah, I am. He’s kind of a little shit isn’t he?” My jaw dropped as Maddison giggled. My brother nudged my shoulder, bringing me out of my stupor.

“Harry! You—You can’t say that,” I stuttered. I mean, I agreed, but that didn’t mean he had to swear in front of my daughter. Not to mention that was his kid he was talking about. Harry merely shrugged, and I felt a little sorry for him. I didn’t know what his situation was like, or what kind of relationship he had with his son, but he clearly didn’t like the way Devon was being raised and couldn’t do anything about it. At least that’s what I assumed from the little I’d heard about his ex and the way he talked about her.

“I gave him a stern talking to a few months ago, and I told him he needed to apologize for all of the trouble he’s been giving you. Did he?”

I knew that for as smart as Maddison was, she, like all six year olds, had a short memory span. She’d moved on fairly quickly, coming home from school with a skip in her step and no more tears because the boy who used to pull the bows out of her hair didn’t anymore. I thought back to Halloween, when I dropped off Maddison at school, and Harry had tried to talk to me then. Maybe he was trying to explain what he was telling Maddie now.

Maddie looked at me, a silent question in her eyes. “Go on,” I told her. Taking my hand in hers, Maddison nodded.

“He did. And he said he liked my backpack too,” she said, her voice shy as she spoke to Harry.

“You never told me that, mija,” I said to her. There was rarely a detail Maddison left out about her day, so why she didn’t tell me about Devon apologizing was beyond me.

“You always call Devon by the wrong name. I didn’t want to confuse you,” Maddie said simply.

“I don’t always say his name wrong,” I muttered, not once looking in Harry’s direction, but I could hear him chuckling quietly to my left.

“Yes you do. Even I noticed,” Javi said, and I cut him a glare for piping up.

Before I could say anything else, Harry and my replacement volunteers came to relieve us. Having recognized them, Harry stayed to talk, but I just grabbed my things, took Maddie’s hand, and started walking with Javi to the car.

As we walked, I asked Maddison what she wanted to watch tonight. It was time to go through the lengthy process of taking her braids out, which was never easy because Maddison always cried and I hated to see her in pain. So I started making a night of it. Anytime I had to take them out, we would watch her favorite movie, eat her favorite foods, and I let her stay up a little past her bedtime.

While Maddison’s father was as white as they came, she took after me in nearly every aspect, especially when it came to looks. Her complexion, while not quite as dark as mine, was still dark, her hair was curly like mine and my mother’s, and she had the prettiest hazel eyes like my father. She was beautiful and she was mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Y/n, wait up,” I turned to see Harry rushing to catch up to us, and it occurred to me that this was starting to be a pattern. Harry had jogged over to Maddie, Javi, and me, his hair bouncing up and down with each step. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

I looked at him funny. “Um, yes?” I asked like it was obvious, because I thought it was.

Harry frowned, and I could tell he was thinking about our little moment in the bathroom. And while I could admit that he was an excellent kisser, I knew something like that couldn’t happen again. My hands were full with work and with Maddison (in the best way possible). I didn’t have time for entertaining or flirting with men in my spare time, no matter how attractive or good at kissing they were.

To Harry’s credit, he didn’t give up as easily as I thought he would. “Oh, well, I just came over to say that I’d love to, um, you know, like, get…coffee or something sometime.”

I looked over at my brother, who wiggled his eyebrows at me, and then I looked at Maddie. She watched my exchange with Harry with curious eyes, not quite sure why Devon’s dad wanted to get coffee with me, and quite frankly I wasn’t sure either. I was under the impression that what happened on Halloween was a one time thing, save for the one minor slip up in the gym bathroom today. There was also the fact that his son picked on Maddison the first month of school. It seemed like she and Devon had moved on somewhat, which I would have to ask Sadie and my daughter about later, but I still remembered the way Principal Stevens looked down her nose at me, how furious Harry seemed when I suggested that perhaps his son wasn’t totally innocent. Both of those boys were trouble, and I, and Maddie for that matter, didn’t need trouble.

I decided to let him down easy, and if he still didn’t take the hint, then I’d be more blunt. “That’s nice of you, but with Maddison and work, I hardly have time—”

“She’s free in a couple weeks,” Javi cut in. I whipped my head around to glare at my brother, but he just shrugged his shoulders. “Our parents are taking Maddison out for the day, so Y/n’s free.”

Harry’s brows rose, intrigued by this new bit of information. When he saw that I wasn’t arguing this fact, he grinned. Why did his grin always look so smug? Yet another reason to dislike Harry, more fuel to the fire. “Really? Well, I should probably get your number then, so I can call you about this coffee date of ours.”

“It’s not a date,” I said immediately, but it only made him grin even more.

I walked away from Harry after giving him my phone number. It wasn’t a big deal, I told myself. You can always brush him off over text. Or ignore his calls. Javi thankfully kept quiet as we all piled into his car, but I knew his questions would come later when Maddison wasn’t around. I knew for certain that he had picked up on the fact that something went down between Harry and me. As Javi pulled out of the school parking lot, Maddie piped up from the backseat.

“Mommy, why did Devon’s dad ask you to get coffee? Are you going on a playdate?”

These were the kinds of things I wanted to avoid. In the six years that Maddie had been alive, I kept my dating life, if I could even call it that, separate from her. I knew that none of the few guys I went out for drinks with were permanent, so I didn’t see the point of ever introducing them to her, and Harry was no different. We hooked up, that was it. It’s just that I typically didn’t have to worry about seeing a one night stand again in the pick–up line at Maddison’s school.

“He was putting the moves on your mom,” Javi said when I didn’t answer Maddie’s question. I punched his arm at a stoplight, but he just continued on laughing.

“The moves?” Maddison asked, sounding confused.

“Don’t listen to your uncle, Maddison. He’s being silly. And yeah, I guess you could call it a playdate. Is that okay with you?”

I had no intention of taking Harry up on his offer, but I was curious to know her answer. Part of me still didn’t want to have anything to do with Harry or his son because of Maddie, but she was much better at letting go of things than I was. Through the rearview mirror, I could see her playing with the sleeves of her shirt as she considered my question.

“I think so. Devon’s not really mean to me anymore, and you always say we have to be kind to the people around us right?”

“I do say that, don’t I?” I mused. “You’ve got a point, Maddie mine. Always so wise and mature.”

Maddie grinned, pleased by my words. “And Delaney said he has a pool at his house. Maybe if you go on playdates with his dad I can come too.”

Annnd there it was. Unable to help myself, I laughed, and Maddie joined in too. “You might be onto something, kid. We’ll see if we can do something about getting you into that pool.”

I didn’t want to get her hopes up, but after today, I didn’t plan on seeing Harry except occasionally in the parking lot at school. I didn’t like the way he looked so sure of himself when I gave him my number, like he thought it was some big victory. He could have my number, I had no problem with that, but that didn’t mean I was going to answer any of his calls.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

March

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Harry’s voice so close to my ear. Looking over my shoulder, I saw him leaning over the little desk he was sitting in behind me. I didn’t see him when I came into the classroom twenty minutes ago, so he must’ve gotten here sometime during Sadie’s presentation. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

A parent to my left glared at me through her glasses, and I mouthed a quiet sorry to her before facing forward again. Now that I knew he was behind me, I could feel his stare burning holes in the back of my head. I fought the urge to turn around and focused as Sadie gave all the parents an update on what our kids were learning at school. I knew that I didn’t really have to come, Sadie could’ve just given me an update outside of this parent-teacher meeting. But Maddie was excited for me to see all her work and projects displayed in her classroom, so I rushed out the building I worked at and sped over here to make it on time.

“Am I going to have to resort to passing you notes? I think I have some paper somewhere,” Harry whispered, but his voice wasn’t as close as it was before.

Turning in my own desk, I glared at him. “I am trying to listen. Leave me alone.”

Harry only grinned, having finally gotten my attention. He was dressed similarly to when I first met him in the principal’s office, not a full suit, but dress pants and a button up. I wonder what he did for a living.

“Why are you ignoring my calls?” he asked, his voice staying hushed so that we wouldn’t distract the other parents.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I am not talking about this right now.”

To my surprise, he looked a little pissed. “When then? You’re a very hard person to get a hold of, Y/n.”

I hated how much I liked the way he said my name. It brought back memories of Halloween when I was underneath him and he whispered it under the cover of night. Shaking my head, I turned back around before he could see what I was thinking about in my eyes.

Trying my best to focus on Sadie at the front of the classroom, I leaned forward on my desk and as far away from Harry as I could get. Harry thankfully didn’t bother me the rest of the meeting, and when it was over I quickly got up from my seat. He looked like he wanted to follow, but as I predicted, one mom, then two, came up to talk to him. Without a second glance in his direction, I walked towards Sadie.

“Excellent presentation, Ms. Larson,” I said, my voice overly formal. “You had me on the edge of my seat,” I told her proudly, coming to lean against her desk. Looking at the heels I was wearing, I could physically feel how long I’d been on my feet, and was definitely ready to get home and tuck Maddison in for the night and sit in bed while taking one last look at some of my work. Hopefully I could get away without Harry noticing so I could do that.

“Ha. I definitely wasn’t what had you on the edge of your seat. Don’t think I didn’t see you talking to Harry. What did he want?”

I blushed at being caught, but I was glad Sadie didn’t call us out on it during her presentation like we were actual students. “He wants to know why I haven’t answered his calls.”

“Funnily enough, so do I,” Sadie said, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t see the harm in humoring him. It’s one coffee date.”

I sighed, fighting the urge to run a hand through my hair. It was cooperating today and I had no desire to mess it up. I glanced over to where multiple women were vying for his attention. I didn’t blame them, he was a hot young dad who could afford to send his son to private school. And he has tattoos, my mind supplied unhelpfully. If it wasn’t for the way we’d met, maybe I could give him a chance, but I also didn’t need to be public enemy number one with all those mothers, either.

“Look at them, Sadie,” I said, my eyes flicking back to the way they all laughed a little too loudly at something Harry said. “You know how fast gossip travels among these people. If they heard something, I’d have a scarlet letter on my chest. I don’t want that kind of drama for my kid.”

I started helping Sadie pack up her things, not wanting to talk about me or Harry anymore. She could tell I was done talking, and left it at that. While she gathered her stuff, she told me how well Maddison was doing in reading and math, and I couldn’t help the proud smile that erupted on my face. Eventually, though, a couple came up to ask Sadie a question, and I let her be. Picking up my purse and hauling it over my shoulder, I started fishing for my keys so I could head home to Maddie. From the corner of my eye, I could see a pair of shiny black boots walk up and stop right in front of me.

“Done entertaining the bored housewives?” I asked, not even looking up from where I was rooting around my purse. Where were my keys?

“Looking for these?” he fired back, ignoring my jab. Picking my head up, I saw my car keys dangling from Harry's finger. “And before you make some wild accusation about me stealing them so you had to talk to me, it should be known that in your haste to get away from me, they fell out of your bag.”

I tried not to blush because that was exactly what I was going to do. I reached out to take them from Harry, but he pulled them back. I raised a brow at him. “Can I have my keys back?”

“Can you say please?” he asked, that same smug grin on his face. He was enjoying this, I thought. He liked that he had a little power over me. When I didn’t say please like he’d asked, just crossed my arms to show that my patience was wearing thin, he leaned over. “Come on, you’ve said it for me before. Begged for me even.”

My eyes widened. Harry had absolutely no shame. Blushing furiously, I pushed past him and stalked off. I didn’t care if he still had my keys, I’d get a ride home with Sadie, I’d call an Uber. What I wasn’t going to do was let him stand in front of me looking pleased with himself. I meant it when I said that I wasn’t the type of person to kiss some guy I hardly knew in elementary school bathrooms, and I certainly wasn’t the type to make flirtatious remarks or talk about a one night stand in my daughter’s first grade classroom. His comment was disrespectful and out of line, and I wasn’t going to put up with it.

I also didn’t need any of these parents knowing my business. I didn't miss the way the same mothers who had been talking to Harry earlier were watching our interaction like hawks. Harry was definitely more trouble than he was worth. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I started ordering an Uber. I heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, but I ignored them and kept walking.

“Y/n, wait—” he started, but I was suddenly tired of this cat and mouse thing we kept doing. Turning around, I laid into him.

“Am I a joke to you?” I asked.

Harry looked surprised that I turned to face him, but that was quickly replaced by confusion. “What? No, of course not.”

“I don’t know what makes you think you can make comments like that when there are other people around. People who would very much like to hear it and spread that shit around like it’s everyone’s business. This is where my daughter goes to school. Her education, and my reputation, for that matter, is important to me.

“Do you know how many parents here think so little of me because I’m a single mother at my age? The last thing I need is for you to add more fuel to their fire, so what happened between you and me?” I told him, gesturing between the two of us. “It has no business being talked about in public where it could somehow reach my daughter’s ears. In fact, let’s just say it never happened. So do us both a favor and hand me my keys, and leave me the fuck alone.”

He looked startled by my outburst, but he didn’t hesitate in doing as I asked. Taking them from his hand, I turned on my heel and walked out the school’s front doors.

My heart was pounding, my anger levels steadily rising. The audacity of this man, I thought repeatedly. It didn’t matter if people might have heard what Harry said or not, that kind of stuff was private, and he obviously didn’t have to worry about being so cavalier about his sex life. The way the two of us were treated by the other parents at this school, despite us both being young single parents, spoke volumes. I saw the way some parents looked at me when I dropped Maddison off at school, knew exactly what they thought of me. There was clearly a luxury of behaving a certain way that Harry had and I didn’t. If that’s who he was, then fine, but it wasn’t me. That couldn’t be me.

Harry might’ve thought he was being cute or flirtatious, but I couldn’t afford to be scrutinized even more than I already was by the parents at this school. Not to mention the fact that it was wildly inappropriate and rude.

I felt a little bad for snapping at him, but I got the feeling that he was the type of person that if you weren’t absolutely clear about these types of things, he wouldn’t get it. I’d been giving him a little slack because I thought he was cute and he seemed like a decent enough guy, but I didn’t have time for games or decent enough guys. I had Maddison, and she was my whole world. And that world did not involve Harry.

***

A few weeks had passed and they were thankfully peaceful.

I had seen Harry pick up his son on occasion, but he kept his distance. Every time we made eye contact and he quickly looked away, I felt a little bad, but it was for the best. I could only imagine how much messier things would get if Harry had his way and we’d started seeing each other.

It had become a little difficult, though, because after everything that happened, Maddison and Devon had become friends.

It started with Maddie coming home and telling me she and Devon shared the toy cars he'd brought to school. I was happy that they’d come so far since September and that they could play together without any more issues or calls to the principal’s office. But as the days went by and she talked about him more—how they played tag at recess together, or when he showed her his new Black Panther watch—I knew that it was only a matter of time before she asked for a playdate.

Maddie had obviously been on playdates and gone to birthday parties for kids in her class, but I also hadn’t slept or fought with any of their parents. After the little parent-teacher meeting her school hosted a few weeks ago, and Harry and I steered clear of each other, I really didn’t want to have to make that phone call.

I ended up not having to make any calls because Maddison’s birthday rolled around, and she told me she wanted a Marvel themed birthday party and that all her classmates were to be invited. She looked so excited when she came to me about it that I couldn’t say no, even though I knew it would lead to some sort of interaction with Harry. I did my best to keep things as distant as possible, sending Maddison to school with invitations to put in each kids’ cubby for them to take home to their parents.

This was kind of a big deal for both of us. It was Maddie’s first big birthday party with all her classmates, and it was the first time I would have people over at our house. I didn’t mind the fact that Maddison and I lived with my older brother. In fact, I loved it, and I knew she did too. I just knew for a fact that these parents didn’t share a small one story home with their relatives, and I couldn’t help but feel a little insecure about it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I focused on making this the best birthday party a first grader had ever been to. I bought party favors with the Avengers and Spiderman and other Marvel superheroes on them after work and before I had to pick up Maddison, I ordered a Black Panther themed birthday cake during one of my lunch breaks, and I even had some of my coworkers in my office sign a card for Maddison.

Before she was in school, I often brought Maddie with me to work, handing her off to some of my friends while I was in meetings and putting her down for a nap by reading cases aloud in my office. Because this immigration law office was the first one to take me in after I graduated, she’d grown up a lot there, and the people I worked with had watched her do all that growing up. They were even a little sad when she stopped coming in with me and started going to school instead. I still brought Maddison in from time to time on the days where I had to work and she didn’t have school. The small office and the people in it were like a second family for us, and I knew Maddie would appreciate the card and little goodies my coworkers got for her.

On Saturday afternoon, I got Maddie dressed up in the Dora Milaje costume she wanted and I couldn’t resist buying while Javi helped me put up the rest of the decorations in our backyard, most of which we spent yesterday setting up. Maddie’s friends were due any minute, and I still had to get ready. I just wanted everything to be perfect for her. She deserved the world.

“Mommy, don’t you have to get ready too?” Maddison asked while I straightened out her costume. When she came to me with her birthday party idea, she insisted that it be a costume party, so that’s what we were going to do.

“Yeah, baby, but the birthday girl comes first,” I told her, fixing the two buns on the top of her head. “Annnd done. Now give Mom a kiss and ask Uncle Javi if he needs help.” Maddison gave me a kiss on the cheek and scampered off to find her uncle.

Between working, getting ready for this birthday party, and taking Maddison from place to place on time, I didn’t have time to put a costume together for myself. It was on the warmer side today, so I settled for a blue Captain America t–shirt tucked into a pair of denim shorts, my hair pulled up into a ponytail. As I left our bedroom, I heard the doorbell ring. Time for the chaos to begin.

***

Maddison’s birthday party was fantastic. Every one of her classmates that she invited came, and some of the parents even offered to stay and help keep all the six and seven year olds in line. I was taken aback, to say the least. For most of my time at Maddison’s school, I felt like an outsider, but after spending some time with a girl’s father and another boy’s mother while the kids played pretend in the backyard, I felt like I had made some friends of my own.

One thing that unsettled me was Devon. Not Devon himself, who, after being on his best behavior the whole party, I came to like quite a lot. The weird thing was how he got dropped off. A woman about my age, his mother, I assumed, came to the front door.

Her hair was the perfect shade of blond and styled to perfection. She was tan, but judging by the very subtle lighter tone of her face, it wasn’t natural. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses that I could see my reflection in, and even though I knew we were probably about the same age, I looked like a teenager compared to her. In her jeans that I’m sure cost more than what I paid to put Maddie’s birthday party together and a white tank top tucked into them with an expensive looking jacket over it, a part of me wondered what she or Harry did for a living.

I couldn’t dwell on that, though. Not when she quickly said she’d be back in a couple of hours, and walked off without so much as a glance at Devon, her heels clip-clopping down the front porch of my brother’s house and leaving her son and me alone.

Devon had looked more than slightly uncomfortable, and in that interaction alone, I could see where him acting out at school came from. It didn’t make his behavior okay, but as a mother, my heart went out to him. Bending down, I took the little gift bag clutched in his hand and brought him inside and towards the backyard where some of the other kids were already playing.

“I love your costume. Is Iron Man your favorite superhero?” I asked him. Devon nodded, but he still looked sullen. I leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t tell Maddie, but he’s my favorite too.”

Devon had the ghost of a grin on his face, and I hoped that once he started running around with his classmates, he would be smiling from ear to ear.

And he did. He laughed, he played with Maddison and the other kids there, and was incredibly polite to me, Javi, and the two parents that stayed to help out. Once I saw that Devon was having a good time, any feelings about his mom were forgotten for the time being, I focused on Maddison. From what I could tell, she had a blast—playing the games I planned beforehand, opening presents, and wiping cake frosting on my cheek after everyone sang her happy birthday.

When it came time for everyone to go home, it didn’t come as a surprise when Devon was the last kid to be picked up. I asked him if his mom said anything about when she was coming, but he just shrugged his shoulders and began to look like he did when he first arrived. Not wanting him to feel bad, I quickly moved on, bringing him and Maddie inside to watch a movie. After everyone else had left and Javi went out for drinks with a couple of his friends, it was just me and the two kids.

“Do you have anything on underneath your costume, bud? Maybe get comfortable until Mom comes to get you?”

Devon nodded, and I sent Maddie to our room to go get changed while I helped our last remaining guest out of his Iron Man suit.

“You and Maddie share a room?” he asked as I helped him with his zipper.

I was quiet for a moment while I held him steady so he could step out of his costume. “Yeah, we do,” I answered honestly. “We live in a bit of a smaller house, so we sleep in the same room. Like roommates.”

Devon blinked, long eyelashes framing bright blue eyes. “I kind of like that. My bedroom is on the other side of our house.”

I knew kids had a penchant for telling the honest truth like nobody’s business, but I didn’t expect him to say that. The few times I heard Harry refer to Devon’s mom, he called her his ex, and from that I had to guess that they didn’t live together, so I wondered where Devon fit in this equation. I didn’t want to ask out of respect for Harry’s and Devon’s privacy, but I was incredibly curious.

A few minutes later, Maddison came out of our room, bounding over to me in her gray sweatpants and the university hoodie I’d gotten for her last year. I put on a movie for the two of them in the living room while I figured out dinner for the three of us. While I considered ordering in or making dinner, my phone chimed.

Unknown: Hey, this is Harry. I’m so sorry. I know the party ended a while ago. I’ll be there within the hour.

After Harry and I exchanged numbers, I never saved his to my phone. It was easier to ignore his calls or texts when it came from someone that wasn’t in my contact list. Now though, I saved it and sent him a text back.

Me: No worries. We’re just hanging out.

I didn’t want to worry him, not when I had gotten a small glimpse at Devon’s situation at home. Obviously I didn’t understand everything, but I knew enough to be sympathetic. Going into the living room, I relayed the information Harry gave to me. Devon didn’t seem to mind, content to play with Maddison and watch their movie. I finally decided that I’d spent enough money on Maddie’s birthday party, so I got started on making rice, beans, and chicken.

“Maddison! Come help me set the table for us and our guest please,” I shouted from the kitchen when I was almost finished, and I heard her shout something back.

I brought plates of food over as Maddison put forks on the table. Devon was still sitting on the couch, but he was watching Maddie and I work with wide eyes. Grinning, I bumped my hip with Maddison’s and called out to him. “Come sit, kiddo. Dinner’s ready.”

Devon grinned and bounded over to where Maddison and I were getting ready to sit down around the dinner table. Sitting down with us, it looked like he’d never had a home cooked meal in his life. I was a little unsure at first about making dinner because I knew kids could be picky, but Devon picked up his fork and happily ate what was in front of him. Halfway through dinner, the doorbell rang.

“Sit tight, you guys,” I said, standing up to answer the door.

When I opened it, Harry was there, looking more frazzled than I’d ever seen him. Even though it was Saturday afternoon, he was dressed in a pair of dark green dress pants and white button down, much in the same way I’d seen him a few weeks ago. The minute I opened the door, he started rambling through an apology and something about being at a work event and it wasn’t his turn to have Devon this weekend and so on.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I told him, opening the door a little wider. “Would you like to come in? Devon’s finishing up dinner, hope that’s okay.”

He stopped his rambling and just stood on my front porch for a few seconds. He looked confused, I thought. I suppose after our last interaction, the way I was acting now might have been cause for confusion. But we were both parents, and young ones at that, I could understand running late for pickup, especially now that I knew a little more about their situation. It also made me feel a little bad for the shit I’d given Harry a few months ago, but that apology would come later.

I led him towards the kitchen where Maddison and Devon were still eating. “Hey, Devon, look who’s here.”

Devon lifted his head and beamed when he saw his father standing next to me. He ran over and hugged his dad, and I had to admit it was a very cute sight to behold. Walking over to Maddie, I leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head and whispered for her to help me clean up the table. Maddison nodded and got up from the table, picking up the empty cups while I took care of the plates. Taking the cups from her and setting everything by the sink, I walked with her back to the kitchen.

“Well, we won’t keep you,” Harry said, his initial panic having worn off. But now I noticed he seemed tentative while speaking to me.

Devon frowned. “Can we stay a little longer? The movie’s almost finished.”

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. I wouldn’t have minded if they stayed, but it was clear Harry had had a long day today and probably wanted to leave. Not to mention the fact that Harry looked the tiniest bit afraid of me, which I kind of liked but mostly didn’t.

“You’ve had a long day, kiddo,” I told Devon gently. “And you know what? This movie will still be here the next time you come over, okay? Maybe you can bring over the lego set you were telling Maddie about too.”

He nodded and grinned a little, the dimple he got from his dad indenting his cheek.

Maddie and I walked Harry and Devon out. When we reached the door, I told Maddie and Devon to go play on the front lawn for a few minutes while I talked to Harry. They ran off, playing a game that only they seemed to know.

Harry turned to me, his face a mix of emotions. “Thank you,” he said when I handed Devon’s costume over. “And I mean for everything. I’m sorry it took so long to get here. Taylor was supposed to pick him up, but she bailed again, and I was on the other side of town—”

“It’s okay,” I cut in. “It happens, and Devon’s great.”

“Really?” Harry asked, like he couldn’t quite believe that those words were coming from me.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on at home, but I know now that he was probably just acting out a few months ago.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped and nodded a little, and I could physically see the way that their situation weighed heavily on him. Playing with his lower lip, he looked me in the eye. “Look, I’m sorry. About the Parent Night at school. You were right, I shouldn’t have said those things, I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren't,” I agreed. “But thank you for apologizing.”

“Seems like I do a lot of that around you,” he said, laughing a little but it sounded weak.

“I mean, in fairness, I probably owe you an apology as well. My kid did punch your kid.”

Harry’s laugh was a little fuller this time, and I grinned with him. Looking at where Maddison and Devon were playing on the front lawn now, I was glad they’d made up; it looked like he needed a friend, and maybe so did his dad.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” I said, making him look at me.

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Harry joked. “But yes, I would agree.”

I stuck out my hand for him to shake. “I say we start over. Clean slate and all that.”

Harry grinned, grasping my hand in his. “I'm Harry.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Y/n.”

#harry styles #harry styles au #single dad!harry #single mom!reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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scoobwrites · 7 days

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💖+ for my muse to ask yours out.

you can do this. he’s just a guy. just some fucking guy.

but marko lawson was a little bit more than that, wasn’t he? more than just another guy in savouge. he was different from all the other boys they’d went to school with; a bit of a troublemaker even back then. carefree and wild in a way that she’d always yearned for, the kind of jump without looking down that her parents wouldn’t ever allow. break the thing first and then blow off the consequences later. trouble, that’s what they all say about him. that boy is trouble.

but he was more than that, so much more.

he handed her complimentary anti-fracking t-shirts as aria steinfeld shoved petitions at her and her friends. petitions serena always signed happily.

when some kid got shoved down the steps by eddie valuzzo, she saw marko teach him how to throw a punch so the next time he at least stood some sort of a fighting chance. no matter how minuscule.

and when his best friend went to jail for manslaughter, he visited her when he could — she knows because she bumped into him when her father was leading a scared straight themed redemption house tour she had to chaperone.

marko lawson was trouble, yes, of course. but he wasn’t a bad guy. he was kind of amazing, actually. and serena ross was out of her mind for thinking she stands a chance. she’s not his type — bubbly, blonde and pink. no way in fucking hell she’s his type.

but she has to try.

“hey,” serena greets, bright excited smile on her face as he comes into view. he said he’d stop by her charity bake sale, and she needs to get a fucking grip because being a man of his word doesn’t mean anything. but chace osbourne could barely remember what charities she was focusing on now, so sue her for thinking this — showing up and supporting — was a sweet gesture. “i’m so glad you’re here. i actually have something for you.” she gets up from the table, reaching into her purse before she pulls him away from the youth group she’s mentoring. she keeps the card she made him concealed behind her back, hoping it’s enough to win his favor. it’s different than her normal approach, vastly different than the miniskirt she and reed had picked out and the strut up and kiss him tactic serena had suggested. the circumstances of the next time she would see him not really allowing for her friends usual tips and tricks — but this, this might work. she thinks.

she hopes.

“so my friends are throwing this yacht party next saturday and they told me to invite whoever i wanted, right.” she begins, mind moving a mile a minute as she tries to focus on keeping calm and not letting nerves get the best of her. “but that sounds like the worst thing that i could bring you too so i was thinking instead,” and with a flourish she presents him with a homemade card. she’d glued a picture of squirtle wearing sunglasses on the front and covered it in blue glitter, the words you make me so wet written out on the front in stencil. “there’s this water park just about an hour out of town, maybe we could go? like just you and me?” she opens the card to show him her (poor) drawings of squirtles in assorted floaties and swim suits. and two entry tickets to the water park. “or if you hate water parks or something we could not do that. it just seems like a waste of a good squirtle joke.”

@honestlymurderforacokezero

#here’s a meme from TWO YEARS AGO #she graduated from the doja cat school of unserious with HONORS #🌙: answered ask memes.#🌙 c: serenity ross.#🌙 verse: stay alive.

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everystephoftheway · 1 year

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camp cloudtop: chapter sixteen

Long chapter yay! Also it turns out I can’t count the fic is gonna end up being 30 chapters even (if nothing changes). Please like and reblog if you are enjoying the story; I love reading all your tags/comments it makes my heart happy <3

Read more is for length only, nothing content based.

This can be found on ao3 as well.

After a few days of whispers, a secret sign up sheet in Keyleth’s pocket, and a little bit of encouragement, Keyleth and Vax managed to get–at minimum–every group in the camp involved in the talent show; some campers and counselors had interest in doing their own acts too once they heard that was an option, and, hey, the more the merrier.

“Wait, you guys are doing a bake sale?” Music filled the padded play room where the pre-school group resided for most of the day, but even still the idea of a bake sale made Pike, a small gnome with stark white hair and a badass scar down one side of her face, shout loud enough to be heard easily over it.

“We are!” Keyleth couldn’t help but match her energy. “Do you bake?”

“Do I? Don’t even worry about that part of things; I’ve totally got you covered.”

“Are you sure?” Vax leaned in, warm friendliness smiling across his features. “We’re happy to help.”

“Seriously, I’ve got it. Grog can be my sous chef. Right, Grog?”

“Sure thing, Pikey!” There was no way the half giant heard what they were saying with two toddlers climbing up his head and chest, but he gave a thumbs up anyway.

“But, we do ask that you keep this a secret for now.”

“A secret? Why are we keeping it a secret?”

“We want it to be a surprise for Gilmore.” Keyleth glanced over at Vax who simply looked back; the lie that wasn’t entirely a lie had been working thus far. “We don’t want to make more work for him, and when he finds out he will definitely want to help.”

Pike nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a second before her nodding intensified. “Okay, okay, okay. Yeah, I getcha. Just be sure to tell him before it happens! He’d do a great act for the talent show.”

Keyleth and Vax grinned. “Of course,” he said. “We definitely want him to be involved once it’s all ready.”

A little elven boy started to tug at Pike’s scarf that laid down her chest, and she jerked forward, laughing.

“Sorry guys, I think I’ve got to get back to the kiddos.”

“No, yeah, sorry to keep you.” Keyleth gave the little boy a pat on the head and offered Pike and Grog a wave. “We’ll give you more details later! Thanks!”

With another wave, the two headed out of the pre-school room and started heading back toward the gym where their group was finishing up a round of dodgeball.

“I can’t believe it’s been so easy,” Keyleth said, voice a bit more airy than usual as she kept herself quiet. She pulled the sign up sheet out of her pocket, placed it against her thigh as they walked, and added Pike and Grog’s names with a dash following, ‘BAKE SALE’, in all capital letters.

“I know. People really do love this camp. Or, at least they love Gilmore.” Vax scanned around them as Keyleth wrote on the list and put it away, keeping watch for anyone who could see. Luckily, he didn’t spot anybody. “I don’t think it hurts that you’re the one asking.”

Keyleth had to laugh at that, pointing to herself. “Me? Nobody knows me; I’m brand new. If anything, they’re all taken by you and your charm.”

Vax laughed too, though his was softer, less surprised. “I think you give me too much credit and don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re doing an amazing job with all of this. You can take some credit.”

Keyleth’s eyes found her feet as her cheeks went red, hair–perhaps on purpose–falling forward to hide herself from Vax for a moment before she felt like she could speak without her voice cracking. “I’ll take some if you take some.”

He laughed again. “Deal.”

X.X.X

Back in their familiar music room, Vax and Keyleth sat in a circle with their kids, watching all their little faces carefully as they mulled over the idea of the talent show.

“We can do anything we want?”

“Anything within reason,” Vax said, but quickly shrugged. “But, for all intents and purposes, sure.”

“Can we do the Macarena?”

“If you want to do the Macarena.”

Tyne jumped up. “What about a concert? We can bring all the instruments from here!”

Keyleth pointed at him. “I like the way you’re thinking, Tyne. We have time to nail down our act, but what we really need to focus on today is that this is a secret, right? We’re not going to tell Director Gilmore. You can tell your parents because we want them to come, but we can’t talk about it when we’re not in this room, okay?”

“A secret,” Clemyn reiterated.

Vax nodded. “A secret. For now.”

“Like Keyleth and Mr. Kash?”

Keyleth’s shoulders fell and her expression went blank for a moment before she sighed, resigned to the fact that kids really did know everything, and said, “Yeah.”

“Exactly like that,” Vax added, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell anyone, Ms. Keyleth. Secrets are safe with me. And us. Right?”

The group responded with a resounding, “Yeah!”

“Alright,” Keyleth smiled, writing their group down on the sign up list. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys.”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Keyleth. The Golden Goldfish can keep secrets.”

Both Vax and Keyleth’s eyes widened. “The Golden Goldfish?”

“Yeah! That’s our group name! Remember, you told us to come up with a group name?”

“No, yeah, group name. Right. And how did you guys come up with Golden Goldfish?”

Clemyn shrugged. “It just sounded cool.”

Vax and Keyleth looked at each other, both of them now trying hard not to laugh.

“Alright,” he started, and Keyleth finished, “The Golden Goldfish.”

X.X.X

“You really won’t do anything?”

Keyleth, Vax, Vex, Kash, and Zahra all stood together against one of the walls of the cafeteria, half watching over their groups as they ate and half continuing to plan.

“I’m not really much of a performance guy,” Kash said, folding his arms across his chest.

“You run a vlog,” Vex argued, matching his stance.

“That’s different from getting on a stage. Seriously, I don’t want to do it. I’ll do the vlogs and help promote it. I’ll stand at the door and collect money for admission. I’ll put glitter on the kids’ faces; I’ll do whatever else you want, but I’m not doing an act.”

Keyleth frowned, her big green eyes even larger and greener than usual in a silent attempt to get Kash to change his mind. “What happened to ‘anything for you, babe’?”

He just rolled his eyes. “Please stop. I’m not doing it.”

Keyleth huffed and sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will give you other jobs, though, now that you mention it.”

“Hey!” The group looked up to see Percy speed walking toward them, a leather messenger bag strapped across his chest, the bag part bumping against his hip.

“Hey,” he said again when he reached everyone, softer this time and a bit out of breath.

“Did you run over here?” Zahra asked, chuckling.

“No. Maybe. It doesn’t matter. I was doing some research on the Briarwoods,” he looked over at Keyleth, and she noticed his eyes were frantic, unusual for him. “They’re from Whitestone.”

“Your hometown?” Vex leaned into their little circle.

Percy nodded. “They’re not ‘from’ there; I would’ve recognized them most likely if that were the case, but it seems they settled there after my family died and worked their way up the social ladder. They’re not just Deliliah and Sylas Briarwood. They’re Lord and Lady Briarwood. I can’t figure out why I’ve never heard their names before. After the day’s over I’m going to make some calls back home and see what they can tell me.”

“Percy?” Keyleth almost raised her hand, but she fought the urge. “Um, what happened to your family? If you don’t mind–”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He cleared his throat, then spoke very matter of factly, like he was reading facts off a trivia page. “We came to Emon on a week-long vacation. We were all in the car one night, and we got into an accident. A bad accident. Cassandra and I were the only survivors. They think it’s because we were asleep. Limp bodies help with lesser injuries.”

Keyleth reached over and took his hand. “I’m so sorry for your losses. Thank you for telling us.”

He nodded with no hint of a smile, and cleared his throat again. “I’ll let you know what I hear from Whitestone.”

X.X.X

Keyleth was exhausted by the time the day came to an end, her feet aching against the pavement as her and Kash walked out toward the parking lot. She still had a smile on her face, however, as her hand laid over the nearly full sign up sheet pressed against her thigh in her pocket.

“You look exhausted,” Kash said with a light laugh. “You want a ride home?”

Keyleth thought for a second, but ultimately shook her head. “No thanks. I’m gonna take my own way this time. It gets me there faster,” she admitted.

“The tree, right?”

Keyleth’s lips curled into each other as her neck grew warm, and she shrugged.

“How does that work? Like, what are you doing? It’s some kind of magic, but magic I’ve never seen before.”

Keyleth turned to look at the tree and then back at Kash. “Oh, it’s really complicated and hard to explain. I don’t–” It wasn’t really that hard to explain–she was using the tree as a portal to another tree–but there weren’t too many druids running around the city; when she first got to Emon she used her magic more openly, but after some teasing names and taunts by city folk she started keeping it to herself. “I’ll tell you another time. When I’m not as tired, okay?”

Kash’s eyes narrowed at her, but he ultimately didn’t press. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Keyleth managed a smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Dinner at six, right?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

Keyleth waited for Kash to get into his car and drive off before she turned and headed to her tree, happy to be welcomed by the warm embrace of her backyard as she walked through.

#critical role #critical role fic #vaxleth #vaxleth au #vaxleth fic #tlovm fic #tlovm #vox machina #vox machina fic #my fic #cr fic #camp cloudtop

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hournites · 2 years

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Bake it till you make it

for @theozmachronicles

Hournite Week Day 7 - Romantic Comedy

~.~

Beth heaves a weary sigh, closing her books from the study session a half hour after the JSA meeting at the garage. “Great.”

Rick sneaks a look at her from his desk. She’s not one to be so pessimistic or downtrodden at all.

At first, Rick ignores it because he gets her, this English assignment is ridiculous, but then she gets up and announces she’s going to leave because she has to bake. She makes it sound like a death sentence.

Rick’s brows knit together. “You love baking.”

“Not exactly,” she mutters.

Rick begins to scoff, which turns into a laugh-cough when she shoots him an unimpressed glare.

Is she serious? Beth—the only girl Rick knows who brings homemade three-course meals in sectioned containers for lunch and had somewhat run a soup kitchen working around her parents' work schedules for years—was trying to tell Rick she’s not a fan of being in the kitchen? “Uh, yes. Yes, you do!”

“Not for this.” Beth lets out another sigh and starts to explain. “Before we were a part of the JSA, I signed myself up as a Prairie Dog Bake Sale Member.”

Rick stares. Rick is smarter than he looks, but more times than not he probably appears dumb next to someone as all-around bright as Beth. He tries to correct that by at least half-pretending he knows what new obscure factoid she’s talking about to carry on a conversation with her. This is not one of those times he can fake it. “And that is…?”

“It’s for volunteer credit. You bake at least 3 dozen batches of separate baked goods for bake sales. I used to do it with my mom and dad. I liked doing it together because it was family bonding but now….” She doesn’t finish and she doesn’t have to. According to Beth, the Chapels are always either too busy or too involved. Never in between.

Rick stares down at his essay outline and thinks about how much he doesn’t want to write it. “You need some help or something?”

Beth immediately perks up. “You want to come over?” She grins. Rick would throw himself in a heap of flour and baking soda if it meant that grin stayed on her face. So that settles what they’re doing after JSA training that afternoon, clearly.

~.~

They were going to be making brownies (nut-free), cookies (gluten-free) and cupcakes that Beth pulls out five hundred different toppings, icing tubes and decorations for, so Rick assumes they won’t be free of anything.

He stands in her large kitchen with his hands awkwardly hanging by his sides as she gets organized. He already tried opening five different cupboards only to find nothing he was looking for, so Beth explains how her kitchen is set up. Rick’s sat on her porch to pick her up for school over a hundred times but never has he found himself actually inside of her house. It all feels very sleek and expensive.

All of the measuring cups, mixing bowls, pans and trays are compartmentalized just so. He watches Beth hum to herself as she occasionally consults the massive recipe book.

“Sorry,” she keeps saying, shooting glances over her shoulder at him as she arranges everything together. “I’ll have it together in a moment—You should see what it’s like baking with Chuck, he lists the ingredients and steps out right in front of me, it makes all the setup so easy.”

Rick would kind of like to see it. “We can still do it that way.”

“Oh, I suppose, but…” She wrinkles her nose. “It’s not very inclusive for you. We should do it the old-fashioned way.”

He picks up one of the containers of sugar from her pantry that she placed beside him. “Do you want me to start with the dry ingredients and—”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. You can just mix stuff!”

She makes a grab at the sugar, but Rick just grips on tighter, his mouth agape. “I am not useless in the kitchen, Beth!”

Beth reels back and blinks at him, needing the second to process. “Wait, you really want to bake?”

“Why else am I here?”

“I’m sorry,” she says yet again. Rick quirks an amused eyebrow. He doesn’t think anyone ever apologized to him so much before, if ever. “I just assumed you wanted to keep me company.”

“No?” What did she think he was going to do? Watch her sweat over the oven while he ate grapes or something? What the hell? “I’m helping.”

She lets out a tiny breath. Rick can tell she’s wonderfully pleased. He flips over the recipe book page for the brownies, trying not to smile to himself. “Do you want me to take these and you do the cookies?”

Beth stands on her tiptoes, trying to see the book in his hands. Rick lowers it and she peers over. “Sure, if you want? I can print the steps out so we don’t have to keep flipping back and forth.”

“Cool.”

Rick is pulling brownies out of the oven nearly an hour later, wearing bright orange oven mitts with the Blue Valley Medical Centre insignia printed on them.

“I think they’re done this time.”

He had tested them ten minutes before, as Beth warned her oven ran hot, but it needed a few extra minutes.

The oven beeps incessantly. He drops the brownies on the cooling rack and shoves one of the mitts under his arm. He presses the off button over and over with no success in cutting off the piercing noise. This oven is freakin’ fancy with all of its conventional settings and shit. An annoyed growl escapes his throat. “How do I turn this damn thing off again?”

Beth spins in her apron, yellow, and still covered in the brown sugar Rick accidentally spilled on her in a crossfire; she was backing up from the kitchen island with her batch in her hands as he was concentrating on levelling the one-cup with a knife—It was a hilarious disaster.

Her cookies are already packed and stored away. The dry ingredients for the cupcakes are just mixed in with the wet on her counter. “Double press on cook time,” she instructs.

The warm smell of chocolate lures her in. She holds the handle of the oven, eyes bright, enchanted by the perfect brownie tin.

Rick drops the oven mitts to the side and inspects it with a toothpick Beth laid out. He admires the nearly clean toothpick with only a few wet crumbs, incredibly smug. “Told you I could—Hey!”

Rick snatches Beth’s wrist from picking at the hot tray. She stills, caught red-handed. Her brown eyes pool even darker as she sucks in a breath, sheepish. “I just want a taste!”

“No! It hasn’t cooled yet!”

He’s acutely aware that he’s still holding her wrist. It’s soft and warm in his grasp. Rick lets go and flushes, thinking desperately about anything that’s not the adorable wide-eyed look she gave him for her desperate plea for brownies. “I mean—I thought these were for the bake sale, anyway.”

Beth doesn’t say anything. She just brushes her hands against her apron before side-glancing up at him.

Nice going, Rick. He snapped at her over brownies and now she’s going to kick him out of her house and never invite him over again.

In the awkward silence, Rick starts to panic as Beth continues to serve a completely unreadable expression. “I’m an asshole,” he blurts out after moving the brownie batter bowl and spatula, to open drawers to find a server and knife to fix everything and cut her a square. “You can try the brownies, this is your kitchen and—”

Beth laughs.

Rick freezes, slowly turning around. “You’re not mad.” His shoulders slump with relief and he wipes his forehead with the back of his palm.

“You’re a Gordon Ramsey!”

“I’m not!”

“You are!” She nods, covering her mouth with both hands, unable to help the eruption of giggles that follow. “And you just smeared chocolate batter in your hair!”

“What?” He reaches up and finds his hand sticky. He splutters. “So? You’re covered in sugar!” he shoots back.

Beth gasps out another startled laugh. “That’s not the same thing! You bumped into me!”

Rick smirks with a terrible idea. “Wanna make it even, then?” He reaches for her with his messy hands but she evades him with a yelp, dancing around the kitchen island. “Don’t! It’s too soon for another wash day!”

Rick doesn’t know what a wash day is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. Either way, he isn’t planning to actually throw ingredients in her face, but still steps forward just to see what she’d do. Her shriek is worth it.

She grabs a whisk from off the table to defend herself and fixes her stance very much as though they were suited up in battle.

“Rick, I mean it!” She points her whisk at the sink. “Wash it off! Now!”

Rick’s feet walk him over to the sink automatically. It’s gotta be something to do with Beth ordering him around. It’s best not to think about it too hard.

~.~

Rick groans at his third failed icing rose in a row. Beth, on the other hand, has perfectly frosted twelve blue daisies. Her hand is steady and her gaze is focused on her cupcake handiwork. Her tongue sticks out just a bit, eyes squinting as she appraises the pattern. Rick lowers his disaster cake to lean his chin on his palm at the island and watch her.

“You’re really good at this.”

Beth smiles without taking her eyes off the cupcake. Her hand turns to get a new angle, finishing off the last petal with a thick layer. “Thank you!”

She takes a look at Rick’s progress. She does a double take but smooths her instant mirth over with a quick smile. “Yours is good too!”

He rolls his eyes.

“It just takes practice.” Beth hands him another plain vanilla one. “I’ve been doing this with my parents for so long, that’s why my lines are good. When is the last time you decorated a cupcake?”

“Beth. You know, as it is plainly obvious, I have never decorated a cupcake.”

“Which makes this a phenomenal first attempt. You’ll get the hang of it!”

She shows him her technique again and Rick copies her very sloppily. He stares down at his mess and decides to run it over with a knife and smother it with toppings instead like oreo bits and MnMs.

Beth flashes him two thumbs up when he presents his new and improved decorating method. “It looks great!”

Now he knows she’s just being nice on purpose. Rick studies his work. He thinks this would give someone instant cavities. “It’s not too much?”

“Why don’t you try it out?”

He slides it over. “Why don’t you?”

“Oh, so now you’re letting me try?” she teases, peeling back the paper liner. She bites into it and makes a happy sound.

Rick leans in again, captivated. He rests his head against his arm, letting the other hang off the table, enjoying the taste test a bit too much. She’s as bright as ever, unable to stop taking more bites. Beth must be a chocoholic. Rick loves finding out tiny facts like this about her.

“It’s that good?”

“Mmm!”

He grins into his palm.

“Oh my gosh,” she manages out a few bites later, her mouth full. “I need water.”

Rick gets a glass. “I’m poisoning you.”

“No!” she insists after the longest gulp of water Rick’s ever seen. “It’s very thick. Intense.” She chews some more. “Rich.” She lights up. “That’s it! We’re calling these Rick’s Riches!”

“I wasn’t aware that cupcakes need to have names.”

“They do now.” Beth finishes off the cupcake and scrunches up the wrapper. She’s got cookie crumbs on her mouth. She starts naming off other name ideas for the brownies and cookies to provide on labels for the bake sale, but Rick can no longer concentrate. He feels her breath stop on his thumb when he reaches out with a napkin, brushing it off.

Beth swallows. “Rick.” She touches her lips.

“Uh.” He doesn’t know why he did that. “You had some..oreo dust.”

He sinks in his seat, abashed. It made so much more sense to brush the crumbs from her mouth in his head. In his head, where he couldn’t actually feel her face with his touch. The softness of her lips, the roundness of her cheek like he just did now. Rick squeezes the napkin into his fist with his other hand.

“Thanks,” she says.

He is making this weird. Rick clumsily gets on his feet. “I should—”

“You don’t have to go.” She mumbles something else under her breath. Rick doesn’t catch it.

“What?”

“I didn’t mind it, I said.” Beth is looking anywhere but at Rick. Before he can even register that, she shoots him another nervous glance and then bolts out of her seat for the opposite end of the kitchen.

“You know what? Silly me, we need to clean up!” She pushes a broom into his empty hands. “Clean! Clean, clean, clean.” She finds a sponge for herself and starts scrubbing the island surface like a neat freak.

Rick grips onto the broom unable to do anything—Think anything but her words. A different kind of sickening sweetness twists in his stomach. She’s still going at it, the spot isn’t even sticky anymore. He’s never wanted to kiss a girl so badly in his life.

“Beth? Can we talk?”

“About the cupcakes? Sure!” she chirps, “I was thinking Classic Kooks for the gluten-free and—”

“That sounds fine. I meant about us.”

Her voice falters. “Us?”

“Like….What just happened….”

She shrugs so casually that Rick knows it’s being faked. “What’s there to say?”

A silly smile spreads across Rick’s face as she gets more and more flustered, chattering circles around what she just admitted.

The embarrassment gets to her and she stops huffing. “So what that I said that I liked that you touched my lips? It was with a napkin and I like to be clean! It’s not that big a big deal!”

“Okay,” Rick says, still smiling.

“It’s not!” she insists.

He sets the broom against the island and steps forward.

“I don’t see you sweeping anything. Why are you putting the broom down? That’s the opposite of—Mmph!”

Beth’s eyes grow cross-eyed at the smashed dusty rose cupcake to her mouth. She gapes and gasps, eyelashes blinking fast up at him in total shock. A chunk of icing drops on her shoe.

“Oops,” Rick says. “Let me get that.” He foregoes the napkin, wiping some icing clean with his thumb. He slows the movement when she halts him. Her wrist on his hand, still on her face. The current in her eyes rises like a challenge.

“Don’t make me,” she warns, voice dropped to a breath of a whisper.

“Make you what?” Rick tries to ask innocently but before he could get the full sentence out, Beth wiped her sticky mouth and smeared cupcake icing right across his face.

“Get even.”

The sponge falls from her hands. She grabs Rick instead, kissing him with her frosty lips, yellow apron pressing flour into his shirt. Her hands catch in his hair and it feels perfect. Rick kisses back, embracing the sweetness and the cake and the way Beth clings to him in the kitchen of her house, the realness of it all. They are never coming back from here. Rick is never coming back and it doesn’t matter if that’s nerve-wracking, in terms of stopping, he doesn’t want to.

“Beth?” Dr. Chapel stands at the doorway in her lab coat, surveying the mess in her kitchen and on their faces. “…Hello Rick.”

Rick turns around, scrubbing uselessly at his face. If it weren’t pink from the icing, it would’ve turned so from sheer embarrassment. Beth reaches for his hand still, slowly unfurling every tightly clenched finger one by one.

“I came home early for Prairie Dog bake sale prep…” She raises a paper bag of ingredients. “…But I see you have that handled.”

“We were—”

“I don’t need the details,” she says. “As long as my kitchen gets cleaned up after yourselves.”

Rick gulps. “Yes, Dr. Chapel.”

“And Rick?” Her mother blinks at him. “If you’re going to make a habit of re-enacting romantic comedies with my daughter, please call me Bridget.” She sets down the groceries. “I’m showering off the hospital funk. Save me a cookie, please. And some brownies for your father."

They stand in absolute silence after her mother leaves.

Rick rubs the back of his neck. "We should probably, uh. Do what your mom said. Clean up."

Beth shakes her head. "It's supposed to be three dozen per treat."

"Oh." Rick calculates the sheer amount of cookies and cupcakes that would take. "We're going to be here all night."

Beth grins and leads them to the kitchen sink, dunking a towel under warm water. She brings it to Rick's face, dabbing at the pink streaks and sprinkles from his eyebrows. "I don't think I'll mind."

#hournite #hournite week 22 #rick x beth #hn fic #tkv fic #fluff #the BAKING AU AT LONG LAST #beth chapel #rick tyler

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glapplebloom · 1 year

Photo

Catching up with our Bipedal Brethren.

So since I was done with Season 7, that means the movie is next. But I wanted to look at the Prequel Comics to see if they add anything to the movie experience. So until then, we’ll be looking at the Equestria Girls side of the franchise for the time being. Starting off with their first special: Dance Magic. And this takes place after Legend of Everfree because we’re seeing them work on a fundraising goal for that.

It starts off with the girls doing a carwash. They washed every car available and between that, the Bake Sale and the Doggie Daycare they only got half way to their goal and it's due next week. So it’s Rarity to the rescue as she has a plan. And that plan is not existent because she just wanted to sound confident. Luckily for her, Plot Convenience News announced that there’s a Dance Music Video Competition and that inspires Rarity.

So inspired, she immediately signs up for it without telling anyone else. But you know who she does tell during this time? The Crystal Prep Girls, minus Indigo. Apparently, according to Gillian M. Berrow (writer) and Ishi Rudell (1/2 Director), she was on vacation at the time. And I’m going to assume since the deadline is next week, this contest has only a few days remaining to enter, giving them enough time to make a video and receive the prize in under a week.

After telling Crystal Prep her idea on a music video, Rarity goes to the girls to tell them her plan. It’s a gamble because if they win they can get 4x the amount they have now but she would need the money they earned now to make the costumes, thus if they lose they’re back to 0 with no time to raise it. And that means it's all or nothing. The girls agree because what else they got? While the outfits look great, their choreography needs a lot of work.

And when Rarity went back to the mall to get emergency materials, she found the Crystal Prep Girls stole her idea. She tells the other girls and with Twilight’s help getting to Crystal Prep (the school at least), Rarity tries to convince them to not steal her idea. They claim that they’re done and if she tried to do her idea, it would be like she stole theirs. Defeated, she turned to the girls to try a different music video idea, but none of them included dancing.

Going for a Depressing Ice Cream Treat, Rarity overhears the Crystal Prep girls. They lied since they only got the dancing part and not the original music part. Finding out they did it so they can get their class a Yacht party, Rarity suggests a collaboration. Crystal Prep provides the dance, Rainbooms provides the music, and they split the money since it’s more than enough to cover both their needs (I hope).

As for the song, I’m not a fan. It’s honestly forgettable to me. What would improve it? Well, if it was more synth, and has the lyrics to Best Friends Until the End of Time be the majority of it. Luckily for me, SU Mashups provided. The episode ends with them winning, getting the money in time, and the Rainbooms getting to go on that Yacht party. Overall, not a fan of this episode. It didn’t give Rarity a chance to shine like her other solo outings. But how will it match up in this trilogy of episodes? Only time will tell.

#mlp review #MLP Revisit #Green Lantern Apple Bloom #Equestria Girls

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

Unexpected

Pairing: Army Vet!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

Summary: With all of his rough edges and impassive glances, Bucky Barnes looked to be the last person you’d find at an elementary school bake sale. Too bad Steve couldn’t make it, and dealing with a class hopped up on sugar wasn’t a feat you could manage alone.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none! Maybe a little sad Bucky

a/n: This was supposed to be a drabble but I loved it so much so it’s a oneshot!! I hope you enjoy :))

Masterlist

Another box thudding against the makeshift countertop sent your third graders into a frenzy. You had given up on trying to tame their excitement after the first batch of cookies had sold out, doing your best to simply hold down the fort until another set of hands could come to help you. The bake sale had seemed like the easiest booth to sign your class up for, but that was before you learned that the PTA had only assigned one parent to come and help you.

And that parent was already… fifteen minutes late? You couldn’t check your phone to find out, a tug at your sleeve tearing your eyes from the parking lot in the distance.

“Miss y/l/n, can I put the cookies out this time?”

You leaned down, smiling at the sweet little girl with blonde, lopsided pigtails. “Emma, you can put the cookies out as soon as you tell me where your daddy is.”

She scrunched her face up in contemplation. “Daddy said he had work today. At the place with Uncle Sam.”

You internally groaned, a smile in the place of a grimace as you held out the frosting-covered cookies. Emma took them with a tiny squeal and began placing them on the plates by the brownies.

Well that was just perfect. Leave it to Steve Rogers—one of the most dependable parents you had in this class—to ditch you on fundraising day. He had signed up for the spot just two days ago; how he didn’t already know he had work baffled you. But you would just have to smile through the pain and try to rangle the seven-year-olds attempting to eat all of the rice krispy treats. At least you had Emma to man the bake table.

Until you didn’t.

All it took was a glimpse of the six-foot something, angry looking man in the hoodie and she was booking it, cookies long forgotten on the cheap tablecloth. So now you had to rangle the seven-year-olds, and make sure Emma Rogers wasn’t running straight into danger. You figured the amount of giggles coming from her meant she wasn’t, but you weren’t about to take any chances.

“Emma!” you called, hastily jogging to the outside of the table. “Emma, you can’t run off, honey! You know the rules.”

She whipped her head around just moments before launching herself into the stranger’s arms, laughing out, “But this is my Uncle Bucky! Miss y/l/n, I know him.”

You sighed, resigning yourself to watch as “Uncle Bucky” scooped her up and brought her back to the bake table. He listened contently as she babbled on in his ear, but his stoic demeanor never wavered. He simply patted her back as she went on and lowered her to the ground when they were stood in front of you, a gentle hand on her head letting her know he was still listening.

After another minute of her retelling the events of the bake sale, she decided she was done talking and that her job needed to take precedence. The cookies were then back in her hands, and you were then alone with Bucky in a sea of over-hyper kids.

“Um,” you hummed out, a slight laugh to break the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m assuming you’re Steve’s brother?”

Bucky shook the hand you had extended with his own gloved grip, letting his eyes scan up your wrist and along the planes of your face. “Something like that.”

Another awkward laugh escaped you. “Well, I’m y/n, Emma’s teacher. I was expecting Steve to show up today, but Emma hinted that maybe…”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m here in place of Steve.”

“You’re here to help me with the bake sale?”

The smallest hint of playfulness graced his features. “Don’t think I can handle a bake sale?”

That wasn’t exactly the verbiage you’d use. You were sure this man was more than capable of selling a few pastries, but whether or not he would do it out of intimidation or charm was still up for debate. Emma seemed to adore him, but in the few minutes he’d been here—surrounded by children and up-beat pop music and one too many bounce houses—the man hadn’t smiled once.

Sure, he stopped looking downright angry after his niece had bounded up to him, but you had the sneaking suspicion that school fairs weren’t exactly his scene. If his bulky frame and tied back hair were any indication, he probably spent most of his freetime in the gym or holding people up by their shirt collars.

“It’s not the bake sale I’m worried about,” you teased. “It’s all the kids.”

Bucky leaned his shoulder against the beam of an awning, eyes flicking down to your feet, and then back up to your face, achingly slow. His features gave nothing away as he clenched his jaw imperceptibly, and you arched a brow in silent question.

“You think the kids won’t like me just cause I’m not wearin’ a fancy skirt?” he posed, except this time, you could’ve sworn his mouth ticked up—just the smallest bit.

But smile or not, you still scoffed, “I’m following the teacher dress code, Mr. Hoodie. And for the record, the kids love these things. They like to guess what color they’ll be and write it on the board for the next day. It’s fun.”

Bucky shot his hands up. “You don’t gotta defend the skirt, gorgeous. Never said I didn’t like it.”

Heat crawled up your neck and fizzled in your brain, leaving you lost for words as the endearment echoed there. Gorgeous—you almost wanted to scoff again, but Bucky had turned away from your embarrassment as Emma alerted him of a customer, and you were left to sort out your flustered mind before another student needed you.

Which was quickly, you realized, as Peter—one of your shyest students—requested you help him speak to one of the parents about the ingredients in a cake pop. You leaned down and echoed the words back to him as he listed them off, trying your best to ignore the eyes on you.

Bucky may have been stoic and hard to read, but he certainly didn’t bother with discreteness as he gazed at you below the bake table. He took in every move you made, from the hand you kept on Peter’s back to comfort him through his speech, to the other that you used to tuck your hair behind your ear as you glanced down.

And it made you nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous—the kind you hadn’t felt in a while. Teaching kept you so busy that most of the time, the only other people you met your age were the parents of your students, and you had a strict rule not to date them. Dating apps were always an option, but after your fourth date ending in less than desirable circumstances, you had sworn those off as well.

But Bucky wasn’t a parent at all.

You wiped those sudden thoughts from your mind; the guy had said about three words to you, and it wasn’t as if they were overtly nice. You were probably just taken by his large stature and his calmness with the kids and your heart was speaking faster than your mind, a recipe always set for disaster.

As you stood from your spot beside Peter, a gentle hand met the small of your back, guiding you up with a steadying touch. Your mind didn’t seem to care about logic anymore as the fluttering in your stomach went on a rampage.

“Didn’t want you to trip over the curb,” Bucky apologized, hand still pressed to your spine. It felt… structured in a way, solid. “Skirt woulda been ruined.”

You glanced up at him, meeting the scruff of his jaw before stepping away, slightly breathless, as much as you hated to admit it. “Wouldn’t want that.”

“Would’ve been a disaster.”

You held in a laugh and his eyes tracked the way your mouth moved.

After a few more hours of the same—you, dancing around Bucky’s teasing while simultaneously trying to tame a gangle of kids—you found yourself grateful that you had someone there to help out. It might not have been Steve with his authoritative voice and kind smile, but something about Bucky commanded attention as well, and kids always seemed to love the gruff ones (so did you, but again, mind over heart).

With one final, relieved breath, you started the clean-up process. The kids had all been picked up, so that just left you, a fold out table, and a ton of boxes. But you could handle tables and boxes; they didn’t scream and demand attention.

You were about halfway into failing at closing the legs of the table, when that voice that seemed to betray your senses piped up.

“Need some help?” Bucky called out, hands pocketed in his jeans, brows bunched together on his forehead.

You huffed out a breath, displacing the hair that had fallen in your face. “Don’t think I can handle a table?”

“After today, I’m pretty sure you can handle more than a table. Just looks like you’re strugglin’ a bit.”

You set down the offending object, nodding your head in defeat. Bucky knocked the toe of his boot into the concrete before striding up and tapping your arm to make you step back. He pushed the leg in with two fingers, the sound of metal plucking against plastic making your face warm. You had been trying at that for over five minutes.

“So I was right then,” you conceded. “You must work at a gym. Or you box? Something where you have insane strength and can explain why I have just been bested by a table.”

Bucky laughed, the sound surprising you and making your lips turn up of their own accord. He sounded so sweet and carefree; he sounded like sunshine and summer nights and you weren’t sure why he kept that so hidden. Emma’s endearing giggles suddenly made so much sense.

“You think I work at a gym?” he finally wheezed out, whispers of a laugh still fresh in his words. “Sweetheart, I haven’t stepped foot in a gym in months.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, the only thing coming out a disbelieving, “But you’re huge.”

You slapped your hand over your mouth, mortified, and Bucky didn’t laugh this time, but the smile he gave you almost made the embarrassment worth it. He took a step forward, forgetting the table that sat lamely on the concrete.

“I haven’t met someone like you in a long time.”

You took a beat—a breath to calm your raging heart. “A teacher with too many skirts?” you asked, watching as the crinkles by his eyes faded and the warmth within them didn’t.

“Something like that.” His gaze didn’t leave yours as he spoke. Until he reached down and started back on the table. You tried your hardest not to be disappointed. “But to answer your question—no, I don’t work at a gym. And this table was only so easy because I have this.”

He snapped the last leg closed and reached for the glove on his left hand, slipping each of the fingers off before he revealed gold and silver and black. You marveled at the colors and the shine, wanting to touch it as his knuckles flexed and straightened. Leather gloves in the spring suddenly made sense.

“I think your kids woulda liked this a little more than your outfits. Didn’t wanna outdo you though, so I wore the gloves,” he gested, but there was a sadness there, an ache.

“How?”

It was the only thing you could think to say.

Bucky didn’t seem to mind, pulling the metal through his hair before setting his features back into a firm line. “Afghanistan. Don’t wanna put you through all the gory details, but there’s a reason I know Steve, and it’s not ‘cause we’re brothers. After this though—” he tapped the metal “—might as well be.”

You knew Steve had served, you had just never seen any effects of it on him. There was nothing physical left behind as a reminder, nothing he had to keep hidden behind gloves or jackets or impassive looks. He was always so bright, and after the laugh that had escaped this brooding man in front of you, you wondered if Bucky had been bright too.

The thought made your chest hurt, because there was so much you had missed when you first saw him, like the hidden lightness in his eyes and the way he looked at Emma. There was so much you were sure he deserved; you longed to tell him so many things, but Bucky Barnes didn’t seem like one for sympathy, so instead, you fought the pain in your chest and thought of him.

“Yeah, I think the kids would have loved your arm… but does it change colors?”

His gaze shot up to you, the last bit of a forlorn emotion leaving him. He appraised you for a moment, tilting his head to the side and taking another step forward until the space between you was shared. The thought that he might be angry had your lungs in a vice, until—

“Let me take you out to dinner.”

You let your breath go, squeaking out, “What?”

“Dinner. Might wanna meet there since I brought my bike and I’m not too sure how well your outfit would fare.”

You blinked, and then blinked again, completely at a loss for words before him. You had no idea how this conversation had landed on dinner, or a date, with Bucky, but the prospect of it had you both excited and reeling.

“I—”

Bucky reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, the metal cooling your cheek as he asked again, “Let me take you out to dinner.”

You weren’t sure which part of you was answering as you replied, “Okay.”

From the parking lot, Steve couldn’t hear a thing, but Emma had filled him in on the events of the day. All it took was the whisper of a smile on his friend’s face, and the high-five between him and his daughter echoed in the car, Emma letting out a loud cheer as if she had any idea what was going on.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #modern!bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fluff

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chrisbitchtree · 2 years

Text

A Love Built on Mutual Hatred and Cheese

Steve sighed, looking over at the booth across from him at the farmer’s market. Under an awning with a banner announcing that the booth belonged to Hargrove’s Dairy, was Steve’s sworn enemy. Billy Hargrove. Built and tanned, with curly blond hair, he was beautiful. Beautiful and evil.

When Billy had first rented out a space at the farmer’s market four months ago, Steve had introduced himself to the other man. He was a local dairy farmer, starting up his own line of artisan cheeses. Steve sold fresh produce, kale, kiwi, fiddleheads, lemons and leeks in the spring, berries and melons in the summer, and gourds, corn, and apples in the fall, so they weren’t in competition with each other. It was nice.

They would talk back and forth in lulls between customers, and Steve thought there might even be a mutual attraction growing.

---

That all changed about a month in. One day, Steve showed up to find all sorts of berries sharing space with the cheeses in Billy’s booth. Steve’s jaw dropped. Berries were his thing. How was he supposed to get people to buy exclusively from him when Billy was not only selling the same produce as him, but Steve noticed after looking at the signs, at a slightly lower price! He was furious. All day, he lost sales to the other man. This continued out of summer into fall, as Billy started bringing in pumpkins and gourds, and delicious, sweet looking corn. Steve didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this. Billy had seemed so sweet.

---

He called his friend Robin, who was thankfully always willing to lend a sympathetic ear. He went on a tirade. He was trying to keep his voice down, but it was difficult. “Rob, can you even believe this guy? I sell my corn 12/$12, and I come in, and he’s selling it for 12/$12. I sell my eggplants for $4, his are $3.50. He doesn’t even have a nice eggplant! My eggplant is way nicer! People love my eggplant!” He didn’t realize how truly loud he was speaking until people stopped to stare. He lowered his voice. “I really don’t know what to do!” Robin made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really don’t know what to say, but I’m sorry this is happening. I’m sure your eggplant is much nicer!” She couldn’t keep the laugh out of her voice, and it at least made Steve smile. He let her go, focusing on the few customers he did have.

---

He'd been trying to resist complaining, but finally, after three months of losses, he went to the head of the farmer’s market. He sat down across from the man, Benny, to make his case. “How could you let this happen, Benny? I had the market cornered on produce. Let the other booths have their bread and candles and fresh baked pies, but produce was mine, and I was doing great.”

Benny sighed. “Steve, I understand your concern, but there’s really nothing against two booths selling the same thing. In the contract you signed, it said that there could be direct competition, and you agreed that it was fine. You’re just going to have to work on something else to draw people in, then the produce will keep them there. Maybe soap? Or you could try making aprons?” Steve huffed, leaving without another word.

Back home, Steve wracked his brain for ideas, Googling endlessly, trying to find something to beef up his sales, but it turns out making soap wasn’t as easy as it seemed, and Steve didn’t own a sewing machine. He’d just have to fight dirty. The next day, he showed up with new signs, advertising slightly lower prices than Billy’s. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Billy’s face.

---

To his surprise, it wasn’t Billy that came storming over once the market opened for the day. It was an older man with a moustache, extremely red in the face, and looking he wanted to rip Steve’s head off. Steve had seen him around Billy’s booth a few times but had no clue who he was. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, boy?” He hissed, careful to keep his tone low, to not attract the attention of the shoppers milling around.

Steve was incredulous. “What do you mean, what are you doing? I could ask you guys the same thing! Ever since you started bringing in produce, I can’t compete with your prices! I have no choice! You’re literally taking away my livelihood!” The man leaned in close, speaking right next to Steve’s ear. “Listen here, you’re going to change your prices back, or there’ll be hell to pay. You here me?” He then stormed off to the parking lot, where he got in a truck and peeled out. Steve had no clue what had just happened.

He turned to look at Billy’s booth, only to find the other man approaching his booth, his face as red as a tomato. “Hey Harrington, I’m sorry about that. I’m going to talk to him.” He seemed like he was being genuine enough, but Steve was still a little weary. “Who was that?” He asked, still confused.

“My dad,” Billy mumbled. He’s the one who came up with the idea to sell produce, and to sell it at a lower price than you. I’m sorry, I never wanted to do through with it. I just wanted to sell my cheese, and told him to get his own booth if he wanted to top up what he makes selling to grocery stores, but Neil Hargrove is always looking for a way to make an easy buck, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I felt terrible that he was doing that to you.”

Steve suddenly felt sympathetic, knowing a thing or two about pushy fathers. Maybe he’d read Billy wrong. He suddenly had a great idea. “Hey Billy, could I try some of your cheese? Bring me a few pieces of your best cheddar. I’ll meet you back here in a minute.” He quickly walked two booths down, buying a crusty baguette from Mrs. Smith. He brought it back to his own booth, meeting Billy there.

He ripped off a hunk of bread, placing a piece of cheese on top. Holy crap, that was delicious cheese. Steve knew right then that he had to join forces with Billy instead of fighting against him. He spent a full minute complimenting Billy’s product, before following up with a request for him to come over to Steve’s house for dinner that night. “I have a business proposition for you that I think you might be interested in. We can pop a bottle of wine, have a nice dinner, and talk.”

Billy placed his hand on Steve’s, smoothing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. He winked. “It’s a date, pretty boy.”

---

The next season opened with a new booth, H&H’s Dairy and Produce, Billy and Steve behind the counter, perfectly in sync, Steve taking orders and cash while Billy took care of bagging the goods for customers. It was easy to find a good rhythm with the one you loved.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy x steve #harringrove fic #my fic #chrisbitchtree writes #stranger things fic #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #tw Neil Hargrove #cw Neil Hargrove

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caitlesshea · 3 years

Text

begging for footnotes in the story of your life

Ana learns a lot about Buck while she’s dating Eddie, like how Buck’s the one who should be dating him.

Ana learns about Buck in stages.

First from Christopher, when she was his teacher, and he would mention his Buck or draw Buck in family pictures.

The second from the school nurse telling her that Christopher is being signed out to go home and she sees his name on Chris’ school forms.

The third is from Eddie, when he brings him up as a work colleague even though she suspects it’s more than that.

She just doesn’t realize how much more until the first time she sees the inside of Eddie’s house.

His house is homey, much cozier than she’d expect for a single dad who’s a first responder. She says as much and he chuckles.

“Some of this I did, but most was my Abuela.”

Ana nods and walks over to the mantle to look at the photos.

She sees a picture of a younger Christopher sitting in a high chair between Eddie and a woman who she assumes is Shannon.

“Shannon?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah. Chris, uhh, wanted to put some up.”

Ana nods and continues looking. There’s some more of Eddie and Chris, people she assumes are Eddie’s parents and his Abuela, and then there’s Buck.

Or well, she thinks it’s Buck, with how Chris has always described him. She notices one photo in particular that causes her to pause.

“Is that?”

Eddie reaches up and grabs the back of his neck, almost like he’s nervous.

“Uh, yeah. Buck built him a skateboard, we tried it out at the park.”

So, Buck built Chris a skateboard after Ana wrongly said that Chris should know his limitations.

“I’m sorry for saying what I said.”

“It’s fine, Ana.”

“It’s not.”

Eddie shrugs and Ana considers bringing it up again but she chooses not to, instead focusing on a Christmas photo that was taken at the station; Eddie, Chris, and Buck in the back smiling.

Eddie follows her eye movement and he smiles. “Buck and Athena set that up. We were on shift on Christmas and he surprised us with our families and dinner.”

“That was sweet.” Ana feels a little out of her depth here. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this soft look on Eddie’s face before but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

“It was, yeah.”

They finish going through the photos, as Ana learns more about Eddie’s life.

He makes them dinner, although he sticks a pan of lasagna in the oven so she doesn’t know how much he actually cooked.

They’re about to sit on the couch, when he stops and says he’s going to grab something from his room. She follows him and notices for the first time that his room is a different sort of style than the rest of the house.

It’s all dark blues and grays with some stylish lamps and photographs on the walls.

She almost wishes she didn’t know about Buck now.

“I like your room,” She comments while he grabs a blanket from the bed. It’s a soft black velvet.

“Oh, thanks. This was mostly Buck. My room apparently looked like a boring hotel room so he’s been giving me some of his stuff.”

“That’s?”

“Nice, right?”

No. She was going to say weird. But she nods instead.

“The photo?” Ana asks as she walks closer to the print on the wall. It’s the typical California style photo, the palm tree lined street, but it’s in black and white, tasteful, where they’re usually cheesy.

“Oh, uh, Buck took that. Had it framed for my birthday last year. Said it can remind me of why I moved us here, for a fresh start.”

“Huh.” Ana can tell it’s important to him, can tell that he loves the photo and the sentiment behind it. What she can’t tell is if he loves the photo more or the person who took it.

“C’mon, let’s go watch the movie.” Eddie grabs her hand and she forgets about the room and Buck, at least for the night.

~~~

Ana meets Buck in stages.

She thought she’d meet him at school, when he came to pick up Christopher, or at the school play, where Christopher was the main character, or at the science fair, or bake sale. All events she knows Buck was there for.

But, she never does. Whether it’s by luck or design, she doesn’t know. But she wishes she had, because she meets Buck, awkwardly, while on a date with Eddie.

The one night Buck isn’t babysitting Christopher, Eddie’s Abuela watching him after Chris and Eddie’s talk, they run into Buck.

So, she meets Buck outside of an ice cream shop.

“Buck.” Eddie freezes beside her and she sees a tall man, taller than she thought with the pictures, with a cone halfway to his mouth. Buck lets out a sheepish smile and shrugs.

That’s when Ana notices the woman next to Buck, she’s pretty, her red hair is gorgeous, and Ana thinks she looks familiar.

“Taylor,” Eddie says clipped, in a voice she hasn’t heard from him since the skateboard incident.

“Eddie,” The woman, Taylor, says just as clipped.

Ana wonders what she missed.

“What are you two doing here?” Buck asks and then he holds out his non sticky hand. “Sorry, Eddie’s rude, I’m Buck. You must be Ana.”

She nods and looks between Buck and Eddie who are giving each other eyes. “Yes, hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too.” Buck looks at Eddie and realizes no one is going to say anything else so he looks back to Ana.

“Would you two like to join us?” Ana asks out of desperation and Eddie looks at her incredulously.

Buck looks at Taylor and she nudges him back. “We’d love to, but I have to get back to the station, I’m on nights right now. Next time? Buck and Eddie can schedule something.”

“Sure, bye Eddie. Ana.” Buck nods his head and she smiles at him. As they leave she can hear Taylor and Buck whispering to each other.

“That was awkward Buckley.”

“It’s not my fault he didn’t say anything…” Buck trails off and then they’re too far away to hear anything else.

Ana turns back to Eddie. “They seem like a cute couple.”

“Huh?”

“Buck and Taylor? You didn’t tell me he has a girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t,” Eddie says sharply. “They’re friends.”

“Oh, could’ve fooled me.”

“Why do you say that?” Eddie asks, looking at her for the first time since they ran into Buck.

“They seem close.” Ana shrugs. She doesn’t know why she has to explain anything, or why it would matter if Buck’s dating someone.

“They, uhh, dated a couple years ago, but I think they’re friends now.” Eddie finally manages.

“Ohh. Okay. Friends with benefits. I get it.”

Eddie chokes on nothing and he looks a little green.

“Edmundo, are you okay?”

“Yeah, lets get that ice cream.”

She nods and follows him into the ice cream shop, not surprised in the slightest when he orders the same flavor Buck was eating.

~~~

The second time she meets Buck is at a party in his loft. Everyone is vaccinated and Buck wanted to have everyone over before his sister, Maddie, has her baby.

Eddie introduces her to everyone; Bobby and Athena, Hen and Karen, Michael and David, Chimney and Maddie, Albert, and then Taylor.

“It’s good to see you again,” Ana says kindly as Eddie goes into the kitchen to grab them drinks. The loft is nice, modern, and looking suspiciously like Eddie’s bedroom, but she keeps that to herself.

“Hey, not until after dinner. You’re worse than Christopher!”

Ana looks over as Buck smacks Eddie’s hand with a towel as he tries to sneak cookies and Ana laughs at their antics, although no one else even so much as blinks their way.

Taylor follows her line of sight and smiles. “Oh, they’re like that. You’ll get used to it.”

Before Ana can respond she sees Taylor slide up to Buck and helps him with setting up the rest of the food.

Eddie comes back over to her with a glass of wine and Ana smiles even as she notices Eddie’s face is pinched.

Before Ana can grab it she spills some on her dress and Eddie curses.

“Shit, sorry Ana.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just grab a towel.”

“Buck, I’m taking her upstairs,” Eddie shouts to Buck and he looks over and nods.

Eddie guides her up the stairs and when she sees Buck’s bedroom, she pauses. It’s almost identical to Eddie’s in style and color. He even has the same photo hanging up on the wall. She says as much and Eddie smiles.

“Oh yeah, he came to LA for similar reasons so he had one made for his place.”

“Huh.”

“There should be Shout Wipes in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet.” Eddie points to the bathroom as he sits down on Buck’s bed like he has every right to. He probably does.

“Thanks. I’ll be just a minute.”

Ana closes the door and finds a towel, wetting the stain first and then finding the wipes. As she cleans, she notices the meds in the bathroom.

She knows she shouldn’t snoop but seeing Chris’ name on one of the bottles surprises her. It looks like Buck keeps extra medicine here for backup. She notices painkillers and Eddie’s favorite brand of shaving cream.

Feeling like she’s crossed some sort of boundary she closes the medicine cabinet and is about to head back out when she hears voices from the room.

“You spill on yourself, too?” Eddie jokes and Buck groans.

“Albert ran right into me with the dip.”

“Sucks.”

“Seriously. I can’t wait til he leaves.”

“He could go back home, you know,” Eddie says gently as Ana hears what is likely a shirt being thrown in a hamper.

“I’m not gonna do that to Maddie.” Buck moves around and then asks. “Which one? Red or blue?”

“Blue, definitely,” Eddie responds and Ana can’t see them but she has to agree, whatever blue shirt Buck puts on will bring out his eyes.

“Good, I think this red shirt is actually yours.”

Eddie laughs and Ana pauses a moment because she’s never heard that laugh before. Part fond, part exasperated. She wonders why he laughs like that with Buck.

“Makes sense.”

“Okay, come down when you’re done, I can’t have Albert setting my kitchen on fire.”

Ana can hear Buck heading down the stairs so she leaves the bathroom. Eddie stands to come closer and she accidentally blurts out what she’s thinking.

“You have clothes here?”

“Huh? Oh, well I did live here for a couple of months, but with the firehouse and everything we all probably have each other’s clothes.”

Eddie says it so nonchalantly that Ana can’t even respond as he heads towards the stairs. He turns to look at her.

“Coming?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She doesn’t think it’s nonchalant at all.

~~~

Ana meets Evan all at once.

It’s her first night staying over at Eddie’s, with Christopher at Hen’s house for a sleepover of his own.

She isn’t sure what wakes her up until she hears Eddie’s sleep rough voice.

“Evan?”

Who’s Evan?

“Yeah, no, we’ll be there.” Eddie pauses as he sits up. “Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Eddie hangs up and looks at her sheepishly.

“Is everything okay?” She asks as she sits up as well.

“Yeah, Maddie’s gone into labor, so I was gonna head to the hospital.”

Huh? Eddie isn’t family, why is he going to the hospital?

“Okay. Let’s go,” Ana says instead of asking that question.

“Are you sure? I can drop you off first.”

“No, it’s fine, we can go.”

Plus this is a way for her to assert herself as an important person in Eddie’s life.

“Thanks,” Eddie say, relieved, as he starts getting dressed.

Ana follows suit and when they finally head to the hospital Eddie’s a bundle of nerves.

“She’ll be okay,” Ana says quietly as she places a hand on his leg. He nods but he doesn’t relax.

He doesn’t relax, that is, until he sees Buck in the waiting room.

“Evan,” Eddie breathes out as they hug. Ana’s momentarily shocked, because Eddie isn’t overly affectionate with anyone other than Christopher, but he hugs Buck like it’s a normal thing.

Both of them calm down when they hug and then it hits her that Eddie called Buck ‘Evan’. She’s never heard someone call him that, but it must be his first name.

She wonders when Eddie got that privilege.

She feels like she’s intruding so she taps Eddie’s shoulder and he turns toward her.

“I’m gonna grab coffee, you two want anything?”

Buck smiles at her but Eddie answers her.

“Black with cream for me, sugar and cream for Buck.”

“Okay.” Ana walks away and turns around just to see Eddie and Buck sitting down and bringing their foreheads together, almost unconsciously.

“Oh, Ana, hey.”

Ana turns and sees Chimney.

“Chimney, hi. How’s Maddie?”

“She’s good. I’m grabbing her water. And waiting for Albert to get here. I take it you came with Eddie?”

“Yeah. Is the whole station coming?” Ana asks even though she thinks she knows the answer.

“No. Only family. Hen and Bobby said they’d stop by after she’s born,” Chimney responds and then he’s quickly turning back towards the rooms. “Tell Albert when you see him that he comes in second since he’s late.”

“Sure,” Ana says quietly as she takes the coffee back to Buck and Eddie. After they grab theirs she sits next to Eddie and sees what they’re looking at on Eddie’s phone.

“Is that Christopher?” She asks and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I got so many photos of him when he was this age,” Eddie speaks quietly and Ana realizes that he got sent photos of Christopher because this must’ve been when he was deployed with the Army. He doesn’t talk about it much but she can tell Buck knows because Buck squeezes Eddie’s knee in support.

The biggest shocker, though, is when Eddie grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes back.

She once again feels like she’s intruding on something private, something theirs, and she doesn’t know what to do.

Luckily she doesn’t have to think too much because Albert comes running in and he and Buck start arguing over who’s going to go in first, who’s going to be the better uncle.

“Should we?” Ana gestures to them and Eddie shakes his head.

“Nah, they’re fine. This is fun for them.”

Ana nods and sits back to drink her coffee. Before she knows it, Chimney’s back in the waiting room telling them that Maddie and baby are fine and that they can all come meet her.

Buck and Eddie jump up and Ana trails behind with Albert.

“You don’t want to run in there?” She asks Albert.

“Oh I do, but I don’t want to overwhelm Maddie.”

Ana nods and keeps walking towards the room. When she gets there what she sees stops her in her tracks.

Buck is holding his niece and Eddie, well, Eddie is staring at him with so much love, adoration, and abject want that Ana feels like she’s intruding.

Eddie turns to her and holds out his phone. “Can you take a picture? I promised Chis I would show him before he meets her.”

“Sure,” Ana says like she’s underwater. Eddie’s lockscreen, a picture of Buck and Chris, barely registers.

She hears the baby's name, Kylee Danielle, after her uncles, and watches as Buck tears up, and Eddie grabs the back of his neck.

She then watches Buck pass Kylee to Eddie, and if she wasn’t so shocked she would notice the way Buck was watching him, the way Maddie was watching her, and the way Albert was videotaping everything.

She would notice that Eddie looked damn good holding a baby.

If she didn’t feel like she was intruding on a private family moment.

She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with Eddie.

She looks toward Maddie and Chimney, Maddie has kind but sad eyes looking at her and Ana knows now that she’s not who Eddie is meant to be with.

“Congratulations,” Ana says quietly. “Eddie, I’m gonna go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Eddie says as he hands Kylee to Albert.

“I do. It’s okay, I’ll call you.”

It shouldn’t surprise her when he nods and turns back to the others but it does.

She nods to Maddie and Chimney and then to Buck, who’s looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

“It was nice to see you again, Evan,” Ana says and she hears his breath catch.

She calls an Uber, waits outside for it, and when she finally gets home, she realizes she took some photos on her phone, too.

Ana looks at them, sees Eddie and Buck, looking like they belong together, and sends them to Eddie with the text ‘you have a beautiful family.’

~~~

Ana learns about Edmundo and Evan Buckley-Diaz when she gets a change of name form for one Christopher Buckley-Diaz.

Along with the name form is an official form of guardianship for Buck, declaring him Christopher’s other father.

~~~

Years later Ana learns about Ellie Buckley-Diaz when her fathers drop her off for her first day of kindergarten.

“Eddie. Buck. Hi,” Ana greets them as they come out of the front office, paperwork in hand and an excited five year old bouncing on her toes.

“Ana,” Eddie says warmly and Buck smiles. “Principal now?”

“Yeah, for a couple of years.”

“Congrats.” Eddie smiles and then turns to his daughter who pulls on his shirt sleeve.

“Daddy, I want to see my classroom.”

“I’ll take you,” Buck responds and gives Ana a smile. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once and then takes Ellie’s hand.

“Papa! We have to see it right now!”

“Okay, okay, little monster, we will,” Buck chuckles after her.

Ana turns back to Eddie and he smiles after them and then turns to her.

“I’m happy for you,” Ana says and Eddie looks at her curiously.

“Thank you. I am sorry about how…”

“Water under the bridge.” Ana waves her hand and points to a photo of her and her son, Milo, and Eddie smiles.

“He’s beautiful.”

“Your daughter is, too.” Ana wants to say she looks like a perfect mix between the two of them but she keeps those thoughts to herself.

They’ve never been close enough for that kind of conversation.

“Thank you. She’s certainly energetic, takes after Evan,” Eddie says this with such fondness that Ana’s thrown back to the hospital when Kylee was born, and how he looked at Buck even then.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nope. Well, it was good to see you, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ana smiles as he walks away, towards his family.

Ana looks at the photo of her son again.

Learning all of these things about these great people led her to her greatest joy.

She can’t be mad about that.

#buddie #911 on fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ana flores

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark.

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

-Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

#jlalafics #567inpanem #prompt 42 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

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“I think this one’s going to be it.”

Vision remains unconvinced despite the realtor’s optimism. “We shall have to see.”

It’s the fifteenth town they’ve looked at, the thirtieth house, and nothing so far has been perfect. All the blogs online and the pamphlets at the realty office and the conversations with Mary, his persevering and upbeat realtor, have informed him that perfection can rarely be bought, but if he can find a home with good bones and have a can-do attitude, he can make it perfect. This he does not disagree with, at least when it comes to the house, but the town itself cannot be so easily molded and that has led to the disparaging length of the search.

Mary holds up her clipboard, blocking out the afternoon sun, watching him stare at the town’s main square. “Why don’t I go along to the lot and you just get a feel for the place as you mosey on over?”

“Very well.”

“Okay, take your time.” She gets back into the blue sedan she drove down in and leaves.

There is a particular atmosphere he is trying to find, a homey, old-fashioned quality. The first place he investigated was New Rochelle, the very location of the van Dyke household, and it was charming in its quaintness and soothing in its familiarity but it was also a tourist trap, signs speaking to its history and a handful of people wandering with cameras to see the house from the show. What Wanda deserves is the feel of a small town, not the exact replica and so he hired Mary and they have discreetly traveled across New York and now, growing desperate, have dipped into New Jersey. To be fair to the realtor, he is not an easy client, quick to determine if the feel of the area is off and speaking to her in the only comparisons he can make based on his knowledge of Wanda’s preferences. Some towns were too Gilmore Girls or not enough Bewitched, others only had one corridor that spoke to Family Ties while the rest felt like a modern city. They’d trudged through areas that felt like the Munsters and others where he knew it would turn into the Twilight Zone simply based on the odd stares and eerie feeling from the facade of happiness in towns long past their prime.

Vision surveys the current possibility and is not immediately disappointed. The town square houses a gazebo, well kept and inviting with its lattice work and the shrubbery framing the grass around it -an ideal spot for a picnic or a tea during their lunch hour, assuming they try out true domestication of idle employment. Lining the main road are small shops and little restaurants, eclectic in their conglomeration and relatively satisfactory to stroll beside, or so he tests, hands in his pockets and his disguise reflected back to him as he stares into a clothing shop where a mannequin rests in a red, billowy dress Wanda would adore.

A little spark jumps in his chest as he keeps moseying, the closest approximation to hope he has felt in his search, spurred on by the flower cart overflowing with roses outside a little boutique and the way all the townspeople have either smiled or waved at him when their eyes briefly lock. Vision is not known for his imagination which is why it is fascinating how easily he can picture walking this street, Wanda’s fingers twined with his, an ice cream cone from the creamery on the corner in her hand, her joy bubbling over as she tells him the latest frivolity of gossip in the town.

It’s when he turns down the road where Mary is waiting in her car that his synthetic heart begins to whirr at the trees lining the street, their thin leaves shading the few houses that stand with picture perfect porches for a lemonade in the stifling summer sun or a hot chocolate when fall begins to run its frosty fingers in the air. Curious as to their scientific categorization, Vision studies one, his hand running over the grayish bark that ripples with diamond-esque patterns. Slowly, and as inconspicuously as possible, he leans in and sniffs, cataloguing the pungent odor, one that if he was pressed to describe it would be spicy...not one of heat but of the spice that always filled the compound when he and Wanda baked after going to pick apples. The long leaves are pinnately organized, forming couplings that cling to either side of the branch. The final piece that leads to its categorization is the round green seed hanging below a pair of leaves. It is a Juglan nigra , the black walnut and all he can hear in its swaying leaves is the riotous laughter from Wanda as the van Dyke household fills with walnuts.

Vision smiles, overcome momentarily at the rightness of it all.

But there is one more determination before he commits to this life, before he decides that this is what he wants to promise Wanda the next time they meet. Apprehensively he approaches the car, tapping on the window to let Mary know he is ready. “What’d you think so far?”

The falsity of her grin should be alarming, yet he knows he is to blame for it, having had to inform her of her failure to find him what he wants dozens of times before . This time, however, he is happy to inform her, “It is quite promising.”

A real, full bodied smile erupts on her face. “Good, because I watched every season of that show just to figure out what it was you wanted.”

“It has been successful so far.”

“Come on.” She leads him down the road about ten feet before waving her arms like one of the women on game shows who is in charge of the grand prize. “Here it is.”

“I, um,” it must be some form of humor he has yet to master because there is no actual house, merely a stretch of grass with a lonely sign declaring For Sale! “Where is the house?”

Her laughter does not allay his discomfort at all, “Based on our search so far and how particular you are,” this is said with a friendly needling that no doubt hides some resentment, “I decided to find you the town and let you build the perfect house.”

The words wash over him, cling to his mind until he can comprehend the meaning. And then he can feel his lips curve up and part into a bliss of possibility. Before him is an empty lot, but in his mind he is already constructing the foundation of their future. After all this business with the Accords he simply wants a quiet life and before him it stands, floor by floor he sees the house form, visualizes himself bringing Wanda home for the first time, scooping her up to carry her across the threshold, her arms tight around his neck. They’ll paint the outside together, argue over the best place for the couch and whether the television should be a focal point. He’ll cook for her in the kitchen as she sits at the counter, informing him of his missteps before they happen. At night they’ll sit on the back porch, under the walnut trees and enjoy the silence of the world revolving. It is everything she had told him about, everything she has quietly smirked at while they watch her favorite shows, thinking he did not see her wistful enjoyment at a life of domestic bliss.

“I’ll take it.”

“Do you want some time to think?”

“No.” Vision shakes his head for added emphasis. There is a rightness here, an all encompassing hope for what their lives can be. “It is perfect. You can contact Stark Industries for the mortgage information.” Yes, this is where they can finally be together, where they can experience a life so far denied. This is where they’ll grow old together and never want for anything but each other.

#wandavision #scarlet vision #wandavisio spoilers #slightly #vision #I just have a lot of emotions #and needed to write some fluff #mine

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

@lumosinlove Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #christmas au #frosted windowpanes

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illneverrecover · 4 years

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the sweetest thing (M) | myg

➛pairing: Min Yoongi x reader ➛genre: florist!Yoongi, baker!Reader, florist AU, baker AU, enemies to lovers, humor, smut. ➛word count: 4799 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: not too many, this is pretty sweet & soft. Heavy petting, cursing, making out, neck kissing, biting/marking, icing used in a dirty manner, implied sex, mild dirty talk, bad puns, witty banter. ➛summary: Min Yoongi was sure you moved in next door to his floral shop just to ruin him and his business. But when he needs your help, he realizes that it’s much sweeter working together then apart. ➛notes: Hehehe. My sweet little angel bb Paril requested some florist shop Yoongi E2L with baker reader, and I just had to oblige. I love writing Yoongi, he truly just is perfect for me to channel sass and sarcasm and a bit of sweetness. Thank you for commissioning me @serensama (and the kind bank of @quinnkook), I hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you were looking for! I love you tons and I’m proud to be your soulmate. 🖤 ➛song: People - AGUST D for the sweet fluff & Poison - GOT7 for the dirty dirty.

“She’s doing this on purpose.”

“No she isn’t, hyung. That doesn’t make sense.” Namjoon picks up a rose, twirling it in inspection. “Does she even know you exist?”

Yoongi scoffs then, eyes darting from the arrangement in front of him to glare at Namjoon. “Of course she knows I exist. Our shops share a wall.”

Instead of replying, Namjoon rolls his eyes before refocusing, carefully watching the stem as his hand slides the knife down it to remove any thorns. Yoongi accepts his silence as defeat, puffing his chest. “So, like I was saying - she’s doing this on purpose, and she’s going to bleed me dry.”

The door swings open then, Hoseok and Jungkook both moving to the workstations with arms full of supplies, the latter’s eyes wide as he picks up on the conversation.

“Wait! Are you talking about Y/N noona?”

“Yes, and how she’s killing business-”

“Isn’t she just the coolest?!” Jungkook interrupts, beaming over at Yoongi. “Have you seen the designs for her flower cookies? And how she’s selling twelve of them in a pack and calling them ‘coo-quets’? Get it? Like instead of-”

“Bouquets, yes Jungkook, I get the pun.” Yoongi mutters dryly, setting the finished arrangement in it’s vase and sliding it to the side. Hoseok is laughing, so hard in fact that he misses Yoongi picking up a roll of tape until it beams him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for!” rubbing his crown, he glares at the florist before reluctantly picking up the tape, fixing the customer label to the side of the vase before moving it over to the fridge. “Don’t be violent with me just because you have the hots for the pretty baker next door.”

Yoongi sputters, hand slapping the top of the table. “I do not have the hots for-”

“Yeah yeah, we know, you definitely aren’t into Y/N, at all,” Namjoon deadpans, reaching into the box for his next rose to dethorn. “You don’t find her attractive, you didn’t stalk her and pretend to be a customer just so you could see inside her business, absolutely nothing to see here.”

“Your sarcasm is noted and also not appreciated,” Yoongi sniffs, before turning away from the taller man all together. “All I’m saying is, ever since she moved into that building, she’s caused issues. And now this is how she decides to promote for the Spring Blossom festival? It feels like an attack.”

“But hyung, it’s called the ‘Spring Blossom Festival’, I think leaning towards flowers would be kind of an obvious choice, right?” Jungkook prompts, head tilting in naive innocence.

Yoongi sighs heavily, head dropping to his chest, and wonders not for the first time why he thought hiring his friends to work with him was a good idea.

Maybe Jungkook had a point; maybe they all did. But that wasn’t enough to convince Yoongi that your motives were all sincere in nature. He was telling the truth when he said that ever since you had moved in next door, things had gone haywire for his small, locally loved floral shop.

He had only been in the space for about a year, but the street it was on had picked up in popularity with a new pub and restaurant concept on the corner, and a local farmers market moving in on the weekends. Quickly, his little business grew, people coming to him when seeking unique arrangements that were both beautiful and affordable. As demand increased, so did the need to hire more hands, and his friends had been enthusiastic to join his payroll.

For the most part, things had been smooth sailing.Training the others had been relatively easy, and what shortcomings they had, he was able to find a new strength they each brought to the business. He was comfortable, thriving, going to bed with a full belly and fat wallet, and it’s all he could ask for.

Until you.

Yoongi didn’t even see you until after you had already bought and renovated the building next door, the sign for your bakery going up and accenting the coral pink of the painted brick perfectly. He had thought it was cute; how bright and cheery your shop looked, how you were always dressed in flattering sundresses and heels, despite spending your days in a kitchen baking. He walked past your place daily to get to his own, and had found himself curious about what you were like, how good your food was, how successful you’d be.

He figured the aesthetic alone would bring in some customers, if not the increased foot traffic the farmers market brought in, and he wasn’t wrong. Your soft opening had gone well, a small line forming outside the building to Yoongi’s amusement. Word of mouth worked like a charm in your neighborhood, and a steady flow of regulars would greet him on his trek into work each morning at sunrise as they awaited their breakfast pastry and hot cup of coffee.

While this was great for you, it wasn’t so good for him. Your customers would always line up in the direction where they would block his window, meaning people walking by couldn’t get a glimpse at the creations he had displayed in the windows. Not to mention the littering - flurries of light brown napkins with your logo stamped in the middle usually lining the street in front of the shops, seemingly taunting him.

And then, the festival came. The Spring Blossom Festival, to be exact.

It was clever, he’d admit that much. The word play of ‘cookie’ and ‘bouquet’, the different color options of the edible flowers painstakingly drawn onto perfectly baked sugar cookies. You had really put thought and effort into the design, and he wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be a hit, dominating the first several days of the festival.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He watched helplessly as his sales dipped, as customers that would’ve wanted the real thing instead switched it up for prettily decorated consumable flowers, all cooing and preening over the treats in their matching boxes.

Yoongi had to retaliate. What else was there for him to do?

After watching you hang neon pink flyers up around the street, he had made some as well, deciding he’d place them conveniently directly over your own. Matching the paper to yours had been Namjoon's suggestion, and Yoongi had thought it was genius. That seemed to bring in a few more customers, but the lull still remained, his till and bank account making it painfully apparent.

It had been Jungkook's idea to photo bomb some of your promotional pictures when he spotted you posing in front of the shop, pristine desserts in hand and a floral dress on to match. Yoongi had shook his head but ultimately agreed, handing him one of his best designed bouquets and nudging him towards your bakery. Trying to make it look natural, he strolled back and forth in the background, making sure the flowers in his hand were always towards the camera, that he looked as if he was enjoying the festival as a patron. After about the fifth pass through, the boxy lipped young man taking your pictures had scowled, shouting after him to get out of the way. You had laughed, invited Jungkook to talk with you, even posted one of the pictures with him in it on your Instagram like it hadn’t phased you at all.

Now, here he was with only two more days left of the festival - a time that he should be making double - and with nothing more to show for it. Pre-made and custom bouquets lined the shop windows, hoping to entice anyone passing by, but most remained untouched and without a home to go to.

He was desperate.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Hoseok interjects, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe you can explain what's happening, see if she'd be willing to help out or team up or something."

Scoffing loudly, Yoongi kicks at the ground. "Team up? You think I want to team up with her? This is a serious business I run here, you know."

Hoseok gives Namjoon a passing glance over the blonde's head, not that he notices, too stuck inside his thoughts. It's Jungkook's loud voice that breaks the silence once more.

"Y/N noona is really nice, you know. And her cookies are so yummy, I bet she would love to help us!"

"You've tried her cookies, Jungkook?!" Yoongi’s voice raises, incredulous. "This is a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, you know. It really be your own friends."

"Seriously, Yoongi. You think she's cute anyway. Might as well go over under the pretense of business and at least see if you can score her number." Namjoon deadpanned, dropping his knife and making sure to show him every ounce of pleading desperation on his face.

Yoongi ponders for a beat or two, pretending to mull it over all the while recognizing that it couldn't hurt anything to go chat with his new neighbor, introduce himself. Who knows, maybe there was a deal to be made?

You thought he was so cute, the grumpy little florist next door.

His mouth was perpetually in a pout, bottom lip upturned enough that it made him look like he was always inspecting, always exasperated. His eyes were sharp, but not in a judgmental way - more like in the way where you knew nothing went past his scrutinizing gaze, and they were offset by the soft white blonde of his hair, in the refined silver hoops that lined his ears.

Your neighbor Yoongi was a walking contradiction, and you couldn’t help but to be charmed by him.

You had heard rumors about him, heard people's worries of you moving into the building next to his very popular floral shop, but you didn't pay them any mind. You had yet to meet someone that you couldn't make a friend, and if he was impervious to your charms, he definitely wouldn't be able to deny your best coworker, Taehyung, and his infectious personality.

But despite your attempts, you always seemed to miss him, unable to properly introduce yourself when he bustled by during the morning rush, or when you were cleaning up shop. It didn't stop you from observing, from watching the way he eyed your building, the way he'd upturn his lip at the line forming outside the door at daybreak.

He seemed so easily ruffled, so annoyed but in this endearing way, and you couldn't help but want to get to know him, to see if you could get him to open up.

Especially once he started his attempts at sabotage.

They had been subtle at first - the flyer trick something you wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Jin, who made sure to check and replace any torn advertisements at the end of each day. The designs had looked so similar that you didn't even double take until the elder had pointed out the word change, how the name of Yoongi's business adorned the top of the page. Jin's eyes were ablaze, but you had just laughed, instructing him to leave the ones he found alone.

But it made you more curious, further intrigued by your flower selling neighbor who took such lengths to garner business, and you couldn't help but want to see what he did next.

It had been Taehyung that grumbled about some tall dark haired boy ruining all your promotional shots, though he had smirked the whole time he showed you the images you ended up with. You recognized that he was a worker at the florist next door almost immediately, the immaculate arrangement he carried carefully in his hands striking your intuition further.

Finally, Taehyung had shouted at him, and you called the boy over to introduce himself despite his red cheeks and ducking gaze. You learned his name was Jungkook and that he was indeed a coworker and friend of Yoongi’s, and that he was just trying to help, though he wouldn't go into much more detail after that. You had chatted with him briefly, offering him a cookie for his troubles, and promised him that you weren’t mad about his attempts at photobombing.

And you were telling the truth - you really couldn't be annoyed at these attempts to thwart your advertising, instead laughing at each new picture, making sure you picked one where the bouquet was clearly visible behind you as you held an open box of 'coo-quets'.

It isn't hatred, you don't think, that drives your neighbor to do this, but you aren't quite sure where to go from here. He still hadn't introduced himself, and with how busy things were during the festival, you hadn't found the time to do the same either, working long hours to keep afloat with your orders and walk-ins. You wanted to ask him why he was so annoyed with you, what he had against your little bakery, but you told yourself there would be time for that later when the heat died down.

Not to mention, Taehyung had been chomping at the bit for an excuse to go introduce himself.

"Y/N," he whined, dragging the last syllable of your name out into an obnoxious tune. "I just want to go make friends! Why won't you let me?"

"Because someone needs to run the register for these customers, Tae. Jin and I are elbow deep in cookie dough, and Jimin can't run both sides of the counter himself."

The tall man sulks, bottom lip jutting out as his caramel hair flops into his face. "You have a point, I guess. But once the festival is done, I'm going to go introduce myself and invite them over for coffee."

You smile at him then, eyeing him from the corner of your vision as your hands continue to delicately trace colored icing on the cookies in front of you. "That sounds like a deal, Tae."

"Oh! Me too though!" Jimin shouts, turning from the counter to glance into the kitchen of your shop. Normally you'd have the doors to the kitchen closed, but with the day about to start, it made it easier to prop them open while you ran back and forth between the two stations. "I want to go say hi too. They look like really cool guys!"

I'd have to agree, you thought to yourself, picturing the sharp eyed man in your mind, but you stay silent.

To say you were startled when you heard a knock at the back door would be an understatement, even more so when you saw who it was - Yoongi, the pouting florist, blonde hair flopped into his face. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater, a dark green apron tied around his neck and waist, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he had been prepping for hours - much like you.

With a single look, you shooed the other men out of the kitchen to the front, opening the door to your guest.

"Well hey! You must be Yoongi, I'm-"

"Y/N."

"Oh, I didn't know you knew who I was!" you smile warmly, gesturing for him to step into the kitchen.

"Well, I had seen you move in, of course. Plus, Jungkook hasn't shut up since he met you," he mutters, shaking his hair out of his face as he took several steps inside. "He's like a stray cat, you know. Once you feed him, he's your friend for life."

That made you laugh, a hand rising to cover your mouth, and you couldn’t help the smirk that follows. "Well, he was too cute not to feed. Is that why you're here? Are you another stray who would like to be fed?"

Yoongi’s cheeks flush then, a dusty red that you think would look perfect in the petals of a rose, and you promise yourself to try to recreate it in frosting later.

“Ha, that’s funny,” he clears his throat, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was coming to talk to you to see if we could make an arrangement, you know - as one business owner to another.”

“Is that so?” you raise a brow, hands resting at your hips. “And what kind of deal would that be?”

You're surprised at how honest Yoongi is when he explains his situation, lays his hardships bare before you right there in the stuffy heat of your kitchen. He does manage to at least look a little embarrassed when he admits what he did in order to ramp up business, and you can’t stop your heart from softening as he finishes his request, wringing his hands as he looks at you expectantly.

“So, what you’re saying is - you want to work together, make something that the festival goers will love but will help both of our shops - is that right?”

He stands tall then, shoulders rolling back as his gaze pierces through your own. “That’s right. Think of it as a ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of deal.”

“Is this another cat analogy?”

Yoongi groans, and you giggle at the roll of his eyes.

“I already regret this.”

Stepping closer, you peer up at the florist, watching the way his eyes widen at your proximity. “No, you don’t. And technically I think I’m doing all the scratching here, but that’s okay. I think we could make a good team, Min Yoongi.”

The event is crowded, more so than Yoongi could have ever imagined.

The tables he and you had placed in front of both buildings were stuffed with goods, the heads of your coworkers ducking back inside each entrance to refill them when they got low. Customers were milling about; some taking in the offerings, others lining up in wait to purchase, and the sheer number of people had Yoongi grinning widely.

It was your idea, of course - to offer up a half dozen flowers with a half dozen of cookies, the perfect set. That isn’t to say Yoongi didn’t help; the concept of decorating the tables and dressing formally to stand out being his own, as well as offering to match the flowers and cookies to each other. The red roses and pair set cookies were flying off the shelves fast, but so were the purple calla lilies and pink tulips, which made him smile.

You had been more enthusiastic with the plan, gladly altering the designs of your ‘coo-quets’ to match, and it was clearly a smash hit. Yoongi thought back to how easily it had been to talk to you, to be honest, to spill his guts - how quickly you were willing to help, how natural it had been to form a plan, to laugh with you, and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Yoongi was thrilled with the sales and popularity, of course, but found himself distracted despite the success. He was happy to see his employees grinning and getting along with your own, glad to see the till fill knowing that he’d be able to pay everyone on time, but more than anything, he was ecstatic to see you smile, to see you shine in the sunset pink summer dress that was brushing the tops of your knees.

He himself had donned some light grey dress pants with a white button down, the sleeves carefully rolled to expose his forearms, jacket long forgotten in the heat of the outdoors. You had beamed at him when he first arrived, nodding approvingly at his attire, and he couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart at your approval.

And now as the day wore on, every time his elbow knocked into yours, your bodies stepping and swaying as you worked, Yoongi felt a heat build; a sizzling lick of electricity that was sparking between the two of you that he couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” he leans in, mouth inches from your ear as you grin widely at a customer. “I think we do make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

He relishes in the way your skin warms, in the way he watches your cheeks blush so prettily at his words, and feels hopefulness tighten his chest.

“We do, Min Yoongi, especially now that you aren’t actively trying to ruin me.” You grit between frozen teeth, your smile unwavering until the patron is out of hearing range.

“Hey, I didn’t try to ruin anything-”

“Okay, how about ‘mildly inconvenience’ then?”

Chuckling, he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, and you follow the lines in his arm as he does so, watching the rippling of muscles beneath the cuff of his rolled up sleeve with interest.

“I guess that’s fair.”

It was amazing how well things turned out, how fast the day had blown by. Jin had slaved away in the kitchen making sure that there were enough baked goods for everyone, Jimin and Taehyung teaming up with Jungkook and Hoseok from the florist shop to run items back and forth and greet customers.

But it was Yoongi who had stolen the air from your lungs and any sense you had left rattling in your head.

You could see now why his business had flourished before you arrived, why the customers continued to return to him when they needed their next arrangement. He was such a good and intent listener, his eyes sharp and focused on whomever was speaking to him. Even in the case of the event, where the flowers were pre-arranged, he still listened, shook and held the hand of each buyer as they spoke, fawning over his flowers.

It was evident he was passionate about his business, which made the fact that he had been willing to do whatever it took - including partnering up with you - even more admirable.

The sun was going down by the time things seemed to slow, your hands aching from the intricate icing work and feet throbbing from running around in heels. It seemed that everyone had satisfied smiles of hard work etched on their faces, and pleasant adoration inflated your gut at the sight, especially when you landed on Yoongi.

The edges of his mouth had finally relaxed, his eyes creasing into half moons more and more as he laughed, stress leaving his body. It was a beautiful sight, if you could admit such a thing.

When the final customer waved goodbye, heading down to the main street for the firework finale of the festival, you left the giddy boys out front to begin cleaning, bones aching at the prospect of all the dishes that needed to be done, but not wanting to drag out the pain any longer than necessary.

“Need some help?” Yoongi was posed in the doorway, arm pressing against the jam, one leg crossed over the other, as if it was normal for him to be effortlessly handsome in sweaty bakery kitchens.

“That would be great,” you smirk, tilting your head. “I wash, you dry?”

And so that’s how you find yourself alone with Yoongi, sweat dotting his hairline as he gives you side glances and small talk over drying mixing bowls. You talk about everything and nothing, conversation flowing freely, and you feel drunk on his proximity, on the way he talks with his hands, the way his voice pitches when he laughs. His white button down is transparent in the spots where water had hit, and even the hint of a peak of his skin made you feel a bit dizzy.

“Thank you for helping me with all of this, by the way. It would have taken hours to do by myself.”

“It’s no big deal. Plus, I’m sure one of those guys out there would’ve came back if you batted your lashes,” he leers, nodding to indicate the young men of both businesses that were currently playing around out front. “Especially Jungkook. He’s been all ‘Y/N noona this, Y/N noona that’ ever since he met you.”

Handing him a dish, you look up at him through your lashes, blinking coquettishly. “Well, can you blame him? I mean, just look at me. All this and I can cook? I’m the full package.”

You were joking; a teasing lilt to your voice as you refocused on the task at hand, but you could feel the intensity of his stare heating you thoroughly, forcing you to meet his eyes once more.

“You really are,” he murmurs, voice low but clear, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re funny and talented and so smart that it’s kind of intimidating,” he looks back at the pot in his hand, drying it thoroughly before setting it aside. “But you’re also kind hearted, and willing to listen and help those in need, even when you barely know them.”

He turns then, stepping closer until his breath is fanning across your cheek, his arms caging you to the sink as you turn to face him fully.

“Not to mention, you’re more beautiful than any flower I’ve ever seen.”

Dropping your head to stifle the giggles, you hear him wince loudly.

“That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

Nodding, you meet his eyes once more. “It was, but I have a few baking puns that will make you cringe.”

“Hit me with one.”

Raising on your toes, you lean into him, tentatively placing a palm on his chest. “Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

His shoulders start shaking before he lets out a loud laugh, smile widening to show his teeth in a way that made your heart flip. Catching his breath, he sighs, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

Kissing Min Yoongi was a whirlwind, a focused intensity pressed in a powerful dance of his mouth on yours. Your lips answered in kind effortlessly, needing no prompting to follow his lead, to pull his bottom lip between your teeth. Electricity sparks at the base of your skull with each touch of his pout, each lick of his tongue into your mouth, and you feel your knees threaten to give out as he cradles your jaw in his hand, holding you in place.

You aren’t sure when your hands had tangled in his hair, or when he had lifted you to straddle his waist, but you found yourself moving, his body twisting to place you on the cool metal surface of your work space. Hissing as the chill bit into your bare legs, you seek the warmth of his mouth harder, legs wrapping around his form to tug him closer to you, to grind your center against him.

He’s hard, impossibly hard, and he’s whispering all the things he wants to do to you in the shell of your ear, promising all the things he’ll make you feel with his tongue, his cock. You pull him back to your mouth, kissing him deeper, gasping when he dips his finger in the open icing container on the table, dragging it from the edge of your lips down to your chest.

He trails down your throat, sucking and nipping a marked path to your collarbone, licking the frosting off as he goes - as if it was the sweetest thing - until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. As you pant out groans of his name, you can’t help but think you’re glad that it’s Yoongi who’s hiking your dress up around your waist, that he is the first man to help you defile your quaint bakery’s kitchen, filling it with moans.

It isn’t until you stumble out just shy of an hour later hand in hand with Yoongi, smelling of sex with mussed hair and lips swollen, that you remember your coworkers - and that little window that shows the spacious floor plan of said kitchen.

Taehyung is shaking his head, tsking quietly with his arm draped around Jungkook. “Shame on you, Y/N. Poor Kookie here was just trying to bring the tables inside to be helpful, and instead he got traumatized.”

Namjoon scoffs then, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize ‘getting a boner’ was now considered trauma.”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells, eyes darting between you and Yoongi. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Cheeks flushing, you stifle a giggle once more, looking over to the blonde man whose fingers were still intertwined tightly with your own. Instead of embarrassment, or concern, you just feel a giddy flush of joy as you lean into him.

Yoongi sighs, exasperated, free palm rising to rub at the back of his neck. “Remind me again why I don’t fire them?”

“Because you love them. And, they work for cheap.”

Chuckling, he turns towards you, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I always knew I liked you.”

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Synopsis: The newest regular to frequent your little pastry shop is a little unusual, but his appreciation of your craft is a welcome distraction from the terrifying suspicion that you may have a stalker.

notes: yandere, stalker behavior

You waved cheerfully at a little boy through the glass window of your store, as his grandfather gently urged him along the street; he was maybe 2 or 3, and had practically shrieked in joy when his grandfather bought him the biggest, cutest looking cupcake you'd had in the display that morning.

With the store empty for the moment, you turned back to your daily specialty case and decided to give it a quick cleaning. A regular, the older gentlemen who'd recently revealed that all the treats were actually for an associate, was due to arrive soon, and he typically bought up most of your special case. You leaned over the front counter, grabbed a rag and a bottle of cleaning solution, and gave the glass a quick spritz. You were humming to yourself when you heard the door bells jingling.

You turned, smile ready, expecting the older gentlemen--and almost flinched in surprise. It was not your regular, but someone new. He had lanky dark hair and wore an unassuming, casual outfit consisting of a white shirt and jeans.

You swiftly stepped behind the register. “Can I help you today, sir?”

"Yes, in fact," the man said. "I'm here to give my compliments in person."

Confusion must have registered on your face, for he continued. "I normally have an associate buy my pastries for me. But I wanted to see your shop for myself, so..."

"Oh!"

You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but you couldn't help it; nor could you help the more genuine smile that you gave the man who'd bought hundreds of dollars worth of pastries in such a short time period. Baking was your passion--but it was your business, too, and you couldn't help but truly appreciate people who supported that business. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! Thank you for all your business."

You held out your hand jovially, and the man came forward to accept it with a low, firm and slightly awkward handshake. When he pulled away, he glanced at his hand for a moment, before returning his gaze back to you. You couldn't help but hope he was getting enough sleep.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "For all the pastries, I mean."

At that, you beamed. "Well! Let me show you what's in our special case today..."

You had a stalker. Well, maybe you had a stalker. You weren't quite sure. All you knew for sure was that something was... off, lately. At first, you attributed it to getting less sleep than normal. With your bakery busier than ever, thanks to your new regular and even a nice business contract supply 2 dozen breakfast muffins every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep.

So it would only be normal, you thought, to be a little on edge. A little testy. But less sleep didn't account for the odd, creeping feeling that you were being watched, especially at night. You could have swore you heard strange sounds, too... whirring or clicks. Cameras? You didn't know.

Nor did a lack of sleep account for some things that had gone missing from your apartment. A favorite nightgown you liked to sleep in; a favorite mug. the berry-red one you’d gotten two Christmases ago; even, as you discovered one morning, a lingerie set that you'd tried on once and then been too embarrassed to wear again. Still, it was expensive and the thought that someone had taken it--and why someone would take it--made you feel sick.

To say that you were not your usual chipper self for the rest of the morning was an understatement. You did your best to smile for the customers that came in, but even they must have sensed something was wrong; you even got extra tips from a regular, an elderly woman who tut-tutted you and told you that you should consider taking a weekend off.

The thought was tempting, but you knew that with running a small business came sacrifices--including the inability to just "take off." Still, you thought, you could take a little nap. A short one, 25 minutes, tops. You didn't often temporarily close up shop for breaks, but it was quiet and you weren't likely to get too many sales before the lunch rush, anyway.

As you were about to flip the sign, however, a figure suddenly walked up to the door. You jumped, then internally scolded yourself for being ridiculous--it was just your regular, or "Ahh, Mr. Regular?," as he'd awkwardly suggested you call him when you’d asked for his name. It was odd, but, the man was also downing an exceptional amount of sugar while buying up entire cases worth of your goods on the regular, so it wasn't your place to judge.

You bit your cheek to suppress a sigh of frustration and opened the door, stepping back so he could come in.

"Oh," he said, "are you closing?"

You smiled, or tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything resembling your typical sweet countenance. "No, no, I was just going to close up for a nap... I mean a break." You shook your head. You shouldn't bother customers with talks about naps, it probably made you sound lazy.

He quirked his head slightly, staring at you almost intensely. "Yes..." he said softly, almost murmuring. "I see those circles under your eyes... you haven't been sleeping well."

The personal turn of the conversation made you feel awkward. You looked away, embarrassed. You hated the idea of customers seeing you as anything other than the cheery pastry shop lady, a source of sugar and sweetness and delicious goodies. "Um," you said, "I guess not, I've just been a little, you know--out of it. You know how things go."

You laughed, mirthless and empty, and gestured towards the case. "So, anyway. I actually don't have many special pastries today, I've been a little busy." You mentally slapped yourself for giving excuses, even bland ones, though it wasn't like you were lying.

You'd woken up early so you could head into work and finish off some really nice specialty items you'd baked last night, but rummaging around your drawers for something to wear led you to realize the lingerie was missing, and you'd spent 2 hours drifting between panic and disgust.

But rather than walk towards the case and pick out today's purchases, your regular simply stood in front of you. Head slightly quirked still, eyes expressive--concerned, you thought, he looks concerned about me.

You couldn't deny that a customer worrying about you brought up conflicting emotions; frustration, because you didn't want to mess with your public persona; and a warm mixture of comfort and flattery. Someone liked your pastries enough to care about you.

"Is everything all right?" He said, finally. "Are you feeling sick? Or is something else keeping you up?"

You stared, feeling lost for words. You didn't really know him, and you hadn’t even told your friends about your potential stalker. But the weight of the past few weeks, the build-up of fear and disgust and stress, seemed to push you down until you found yourself sliding into one of your cafe chairs. He followed suit, pulling his knees up until he practically crouched on the seat.

You hesitated. Should you really be telling him any of this? “I… don’t want to bother you with any of my personal problems.”

“It’s not bothering me. I’m curious,” he said, lightly.

You sighed. Here goes, you thought. “I… I have a stalker?” Your hesitancy quickly morphed into an awkward blurting. “I mean, I think I do. I’m not sure. It’s just the past few weeks. I keep hearing these weird noises. And I feel like I’m being watched.” You bit your lip. “And someone took my underpants?”

Actually vocalizing the thought made you realize that it could just all be in your head. I mean, whirring noises? Missing lingerie? Maybe there were ants in the walls and you’d donated the set and forgot about it.

You half expected him to look embarrassed and give an excuse to leave. But instead, he looked thoughtfully at you. “Hmm. Have you called the police?”

It was you who felt embarrassed now. “No…” You shrugged. “I mean, what can they do, anyway? I don’t have any proof.”

He regarded you with a grim nod. “That’s true. They won’t act without evidence.” He gave a little huffy sigh of his own. “Well… if it were up to me, I’d do a stake out. See if anyone comes into your place at night. I could get some equipment, if you want.”

You smiled--subtle and soft, but a genuine smile. At least he didn’t think you were crazy. At least he validated your feelings. And he’d offered to help, even if you would never feel comfortable taking him up on that offer.

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But maybe I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want to drag you into all this…” You sat up straighter and decided to change the subject--you’d had enough worrying about a stalker for one day. “Say, do you want to see the kitchen? I need to finish up a cake I started last night, for the special case. Maybe you can pick out the fruit toppings?”

For a moment, your regular looked shocked. He nodded, slowly. His expression never quite fully recovered its normal neutrality, and he stood up almost cautiously before following your lead into the open kitchen door accessed from behind the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say lightly. “I didn’t have time to start dishes yet.” You gestured towards a countertop where a small cake stuffed with mascarpone and nestled within a layer of marzipan sat. There were little dollops of cream forming a circle on the top of the cake. “I’m going to top it with some fruits, why don’t you pick out which ones you like?” You covered your mouth, suddenly. “I mean--if you want to buy it, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He cleared his throat and a small smile flickered across his lips. “Of course I’ll buy it. Your cakes are delicious.”

You laughed a little, showing your teeth, and took out some little jars of fresh fruits from a small fridge underneath the counter. As he looked over them, you turned and began tossing a few empty pots, pans and stirrers into the sink so that they could soak. You couldn’t help but hum a little, used to singing while you clean.

“Yes, I’ve decided,” he said suddenly. You turned around and saw him staring right at you.

“Decided?” You asked. Something about the way he was looking at you felt familiar. You thought about whirring.

“On strawberries,” he replied. He slowly held up the bowl of freshly cut, ripe red berries. “For my cake.”

L sat, crouched on the couch, staring at the video he’d taken of today’s events. You confided in him, which was delightful. You’d smiled at him, which was even better. Watching you put the glorious finishing touches on a scrumptious pastry in the kitchen was just... well. Icing on the cake.

He pressed a button on the controller and rewound the video to the moment where you'd laughed, light and airy and perfectly melodious to his ears. Your smile was genuine, then--not the constrained smile you'd given when he'd interrupted your nap plans; nor was it the sometimes plastic smile you wore when you were clearly exhausted with giving endlessly bright customer service.

Your real smile was something to be treasured. Especially, he thought to himself, because it will be a long while before he sees it again. You won’t be smiling much after he kidnaps you--after he acquires you, he corrected himself.

According to his calculations, you won't start feeling more accepting of your situation for at least a few months, but it may be sooner (or later) depending on certain variables. You will be scared first, he knew--scared and maybe angry with him for deceiving you and trapping you. And that wouldn’t be very conducive to the smile and laughter he’d quickly become addicted to taking in.

He lifted up your favorite mug and took a sip of the warm coffee inside, relishing the last bits of your lipstick left on the rim, before rewinding the video to watch you again. Time will heal your wounds--but in the mean time, he will be so very generous and patient with you.

#yandere death note #yandere #yandere l lawliet #death note #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #can you guess the name of part 3

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