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anne-i-write · 3 years

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sweet love

| who would have known that the local bakery could get sebastian to show his soft spot |

sebastian moran x reader

word count: 3609

tw: sexual implications but no actual spice (mostly from sebastian’s “flirting”)

a/n: a little new years gift from me to all of you! i’m sorry it took so long to get another post up but i enjoyed writing this one! hopefully sebastian isn’t too ooc in this idk ig i just have a thing for making characters ooc but it’s very sweet and possibly tooth rotting. i also realize that i got carried away making this one and now you can read through my brain rot lol. ALSO APPARENTLY HES 6’6 THE MAN COULD ABSOLUTELY PUNT ME WHAT anyhow, i hope you all enjoy!! p.s. if you see grammatical errors and incoherent sentences, i just copy pasted from google docs lmao good luck

Sebastian grumbled under his breath, annoyed with the work that William had him do.

“‘Those who do not work in this house aren’t treated as people.’” Sebastian scoffed as he glanced over at the list. “Louis should be glad I’m on good terms with William.”

The ex-colonel should’ve been back at the estate an hour ago but he felt somewhat spiteful and decided to stay out longer. He had finished everything he needed but he had no clue what to do. It was already lunch and his stomach was silently growling but he refused to face the brothers just yet.

That was until he stopped in front of a quaint bakery with the words Fox’s Biscuits painted on a hanging sign.

“Isn’t this…” He looked at the bakery window, mouthwatering biscuits on display for everyone to see.

“These are the biscuits Father bought for me when I was younger.”

Longing for a sense of his childhood, Sebastian walked into the small shop.

In an instant, the sickly sweet smell of chocolate hit his nose and the bell above the door rang out. It was a small space but one could feel the dedication put into the little treats. “Hello?” Sebastian called out as soon as he realized he had been alone for at least two minutes.

“Just a moment!”

Crashes and clangs could be heard from behind a door that presumably led to a kitchen. You burst through the door, your apron stained with chocolate and your right cheek was covered in a light dust of flour.

Sebastian stared at you with wide eyes, not sure if he should focus on the disorderly ruin that was yourself or the absolute charm that you carried. “You have a little something—” He pointed to his cheek and your cute eyes widened a smidge.

You frantically turned around, swiping at both cheeks and turning around when you felt like you were clean. “How may I help you today?”

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat when you smiled widely, his cheeks feeling a little flush. He shook his head.

“Those biscuits by the door; how much are they?” You took a step to the side to see which one he was talking about. “Oh, it’s 10 shillings for each one.” You informed him, walking to the stacked treats with a cloth in hand. “How many would you like?”

A sly grin painted Sebastian’s features and he turned to face you. “3 pieces please.” You barely picked up the second biscuit before you felt a presence looming behind you. “Perhaps, I can have you too if I pay extra.” He whispered in your ear.

Heat spread across your face as you quickly shoved the rest of the biscuits in the small bag. You shoved the biscuits his way and held out your other hand expectantly. “Th-That’s 30 shillings!” You cursed the way you stuttered.

Sebastian laughed at your flustered state as he handed you the payment. He shot you a teasing glance.

“I can’t bake very well but I can show you how good I am with my hands.” Your eyes widened again at the implication and you shoved him towards the exit.

“Thank you for coming to our bakery!” You breathed out a sigh of relief. One patron down… only many more to come.

The ex-colonel swung the bag leisurely as he strode into the manor, forgetting about lunch. “Where were you, Sebastian?” Louis asked as soon as he opened the door.

“Getting myself food.”

The bell rang in your little family shop and you smiled, heading out to greet the next customer with freshly baked biscuits in hand.

“Good afternoon–” Your smile dropped when you realized who came into the bakery.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” Sebastian cooed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you not wish I would come back?”

“I wish you never came at all.” The man stilled for a moment but laughed when you walked past him to restock the display case. “You were here yesterday, were you not?” He turned to see you carefully placing the treats on the platter. “Yes but I’m here to buy more of those delicious biscuits you sell.”

Sebastian stalked closer to you just as you spun around to point the tray in his face. “Personal space, please.” He raised his hands in resignation and backed up. You walked back to the counter to place the warm tray on top. “You weren’t complaining yesterday.”

“I didn’t expect yesterday. Now, how many biscuits would you like?” Before he opened his mouth, you continued. “And buy enough so I don’t have to see you again.”

Sebastian laughed again, enjoying your quips. “You seem very spirited today, m’love.” You rolled your eyes. “Either you buy something or you can get out of the shop.” The man walked towards you but you stood your ground this time, arms crossed.

“Your biscuits are delicious but I bet you taste even better.” Your face heated up and Sebastian grinned. “Th-The way out is right behind you.”

Why do I always stutter?

“You’re adorable when you get shy on me.” You shot him a pointed glare and he chuckled. “I’ll have the whole display.” Sebastian thoroughly enjoyed the way your shy attitude appeared when he spoke.

“Th-The whole—” Sebastian chuckled and leaned on a nearby wall. “Yes, sweetheart; the whole case.” Of course, you needed the money but could the man even afford it?

“Th-That’s 100 shillings.” Sebastian took another glance at the display and shook his head. “Come now sweetheart, all of that is at least 600 shillings.” You shook your head.

“600 shillings is too much!” The thought of even getting mad at his previous words flew out of your head as he insisted on paying the full price. “Please, I’ll lower the price.”

Sebastian smiled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a satchel of coins. “It must have taken a painstakingly long time to make all those biscuits, it’s only right I pay you in full.” He placed the bag on the counter and you slid it back towards him. “I don’t have time to count 100 shillings! Please, that would be more than enough.”

This continued on for another ten minutes before he finally got you to settle on paying half of the original price.

“Enjoy your biscuits!” You called out to him just as the door barely closed behind him. Thankfully the door had a large glass pane and he turned around, offering a small wave before walking off.

You watched as he left the front of the shop and your eyes drifted to the empty display case.

“What in God’s name happened.”

Sebastian was aware that the last time he saw you was the other day, but he did comprehend that coming back the day after buying 60 biscuits would look rather odd. Telling Louis he had to run an errand in the town, the ex-colonel set off to your little bakery. Considering how empty it was the last two times he saw you, Sebastian expected it to be the same.

What he didn’t expect was a large crowd that seemed too big to be inside of the bakery.

Sebastian carefully opened the door and was greeted with the bustling sound of people chatting as they waited for their treats. Being the tall man he was, he searched for you in the crowd until he saw you rush out of the kitchen with your hair a complete mess.

“Thank you for being so patient, have a great day!” You said breathlessly and the patron nodded, wishing you well before leaving. They passed by Sebastian and he watched as they left the shop. He turned his attention back to you, who wore the same smile that made his heart stutter as you helped the next customer.

God only knows how long Sebastian was in the shop but the last customer left and you slumped against the counter. “Is that how you hold yourself in front of your patrons?” You groaned and he laughed.

“You bought 60 biscuits the other day and I still have to make the next batch, why are you back?” You glanced up at him and he shrugged. “Can I not wait for the biscuits?” You kept staring at him and he shot you a questioning glance.

“I can give you an estimated time for when the biscuits are done.” You yawned as you stood up and stretched. “I saw you come in a while ago, do you not have anywhere to be?”

Sebastian leaned against the counter and sighed. “Not today.”

Not having the energy to make him leave, you simply walked back into the kitchen and he watched as the door swung behind you.

It had been three minutes since you disappeared behind the doors and Sebastian was about to leave before you emerged from the kitchen. “If you’re staying until I make the next batch, then I want you to try this.” You said as you place down a small plate with two chocolate covered biscuits. “My father doesn’t know about these so I want to see if these taste good.” He took a glance at the plate and looked up at you.

“You couldn’t try them yourselves?” He asked as you stood across from him, arms folded. “I’d be favored to like them because I made them.” A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other.

“They’re not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.” An impressed look crossed Sebastian’s face as he picked up the biscuit and ate it. You watched closely as the man in front of you chewed your creation. “Is that jam and cream?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s indecent.” Sebastian snorted as he took another bite. “You sound like my mum.” You smiled softly as he started to reach for the second one.

“Keep staring like that, I might have to eat something else.” He said as he winked at you.

“Y-You—!”

Sebastian’s visits became routine and each time he came in, your day got a little better. You scoffed. Like you would ever tell him that.

“Darling!” Sebastian called out as he opened the door. “You know, I don’t even know your name and you’ve been coming here for two weeks.” You stated as you cleaned down the counter.

“Aw, you want to put a name to a face so you can moan it tonight?” He cooed and you slammed your towel down, flustered. “O-One day without suggesting those things! I-Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian laughed and you went back to furiously wiping down the counter.

He smiled as he walked towards you and placed his hand on yours. “If you keep scrubbing like that, the wood will wear down.” You sighed and relaxed your grip on the washing cloth. “Your hands are warm.” You said and he chuckled.

“The cloth’s gone cold.” He pointed out and you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realize.” Sebastian snorted and took the cloth out of your hands. “Here.” He took both of your hands and held them in his, breathing out slowly on them. He looked at you, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes.

If you were working yourself that much, he would make you take this short break to relax.

You looked up at your hands and suddenly felt shy at the intimate contact. “(Y/N),” you muttered, looking away.

Sebastian glanced up at you and huffed softly. “Sebastian.” You continued to let him warm up your hands.

A serene silence fell over the two of you as he exhaled softly on your hands.

That was until your sister barged into the shop, back from the market. “(Y/N)!” All three of you paused as you stared at each other. You watched as your sister’s eyes traveled from yours to your intertwined hands and you instantly flared up.

“I was just handing him biscuits!” You yelped, yanking your hands out of Sebastian’s. You looked at him and nodded your head towards the exit. “Thank you so much for coming!” Sebastian grinned and he leaned in closer to you. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

He knew he said this loud enough for you sister to hear. “Good day!” He smiled innocently, nodding to the girl by the door and walked out.

You watched as he left, not noticing your sister walking up and taking her place next to you. She watched with you as Sebastian walked away and took note of the subtle starry gaze in your eyes.

“Now I understand why you always want to watch the shop.”

You fidgeted as Sebastian walked into the shop once again. What was this? His 40th time at the shop? You shook your head. It didn’t matter.

I will ask him!

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” Even through the teasing tone, you could hear some worry and you just decided to spit it out.

“Would you like to accompany me to the moorish dance tonight?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as you stared up at him with unintentionally large eyes. The man knew he had a persona to hold in front of you but felt himself failing as he struggled to fight the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Only if you’ll accompany me to my bed tonight.” He watched as your eyes narrowed and you puffed out your chest, crossing your arms. “Forget I asked.” He laughed as you turned away from him. “I’m just playing around!” You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned away again.

“You’re pouting!”

“No I’m not!”

You two continued to bicker until he apologized, albeit through laughs. “I’m serious though, Sebastian.” He looked at you with a fond smile and he exhaled.

“I’d be honored.” You turned to face him with the same smile you used when you first greeted him, except this time it was wider and you looked like you were about to bounce over the counter. “But I really thought I would be the first to ask you.”

“Let customs lay themselves to rest for a bit, Sebastian.”

The dance was some time later at night so you decided to close shop early and walk around the town with Sebastian.

He had never seen you so talkative before and it was very interesting to see you speak without having to put him in his place every five minutes.

“So, do you and your sister run the bakery by yourselves?” Sebastian asked as you walked down the bustling road. “Lately. My father had been overworking himself so my sister and I decided to take over for him.” You smiled as a girl ran past your legs, her little brother following shortly after.

He watched on with a fond look as you continued talking about the bakery and all the baking mishaps that made you the person you were today. “That sounds like it requires a lot of effort.” You chuckled as you reached a secluded tree, not too far from the town but enough to be alone.

“It does, but the son of my father’s friend likes to help from time to time.” The sound of a possible competitor peaked his interest and sat down beside you on the grass. “The son of your father’s friend?” You nodded as you stared at the town and leaned on the tree.

“He’s a wonderful boy, very enthusiastic about helping me and my sister.” You turned to face him with an excited expression. “Oh, I’ll introduce you at the dance later! He’s helping the men set up but we should be able to see him!” The alpha male in Sebastian refused to let himself lose the one good thing he could possibly have in his life.

“You hid the whole jar?”

“Mrs. Pettor makes the best jams! I wasn’t going to let my family finish it!” Sebastian laughed as you defended yourself.

It was almost time for the dance and you both were walking to the town center.

“I’ve been talking all this time.” You realized and you turned to Sebastian. “Tell me more about—” You cut yourself off with a squeak as you were lifted off of your feet.

Sebastian watched as a blonde boy swung you around. “A-Alexander!” The boy put you down, a grin on his face.

The blond boy looked at you and you smiled back before Sebastian cleared his throat. “Oh, right!” You turned to face Sebastian and grinned. “Alexander, this is Sebastian! Sebastian, Alexander!” The shorter man held out his hand, blue eyes instantly hardening.

“Hello Sebastian,” Alexander said as Sebastian shook his hand. “Alexander.” You looked between the two and felt a tense aura emanating from them before you clapped your hands.

“Shall we go to the dance?” Alexander let go of Sebastian’s hand and immediately faced you. “Of course!” The blond grabbed your hand and you were barely able to get ahold of Sebastian’s before Alexander took off running.

Cheers and music filled the air and the sound of shoes hitting stone echoed throughout the streets. Despite knowing most of the faces, you spent most of your time talking with Sebastian about stories from each of your lives.

“(Y/N)!” You turned your head and saw Alexander heading towards you, out of breath and sweaty from dancing. You excused yourself from the conversation and Alexander stopped in front of you. “I never did thank you for working more than you should have these last few days.” You laughed as you waved him off. “It’s nothing you should thank me for, Alexander. My sister helped so it wasn’t all bad.”

Alexander took a glance at Sebastian, who had been mobbed by most of the town women and looked like he was trying to hold his own. “Would you like to dance?” His question caught you off guard. “I invited Sebastian, I couldn’t leave him…” You turned to see a group of girls crowding around the man and your smile faltered. “One dance wouldn’t hurt.”

“Sebastian!” He looked up from the group of girls and saw you waving. He was about to move until he saw your hand in Alexander’s. “I’m going to dance for a bit!” You laughed as Alexander pulled you to the dance area. Alexander chuckled at you as you told Sebastian of your whereabouts. At least you had the decency to tell him you were dancing with another man.

“So how’d you meet Sebastian?” Alexander asked as you danced to the music. “He came into the shop one day and just kept visiting!” You smiled and the boy in front of you exhaled softly, deciding to drop the topic and talk to your sister about it later.

The former colonel no longer focused on the girls in front of him as he watched you laugh hard at something Alexander said and his heart beat faster in his chest. Out of jealousy or awe, he couldn’t tell. But the way your eyes shone under the golden glow of the street lamps told him to move and get you.

He pushed his way through the crowd of ladies and kept his eyes trained on your carefree figure. Your skin looked so beautiful under this light, maybe you were the one who lit up the town. Your smile alone had enough energy to do so anyway.

“May I have a dance with (Y/N)?” Sebastian asked as he reached you and Alexander. The blond man smiled and your eyes sparkled in delight. “Of course.” Alexander gently let go of your hand and placed it in Sebastian’s.

“Thank you Alexander!” You called out and he turned around, sending you a soft smile and a small wave before walking towards your sister.

You turned your gaze back to Sebastian and you grinned. “Did you get jealous?” Sebastian scoffed before shaking his head. “I don’t get jealous.” You laughed as you felt Sebastian pull you closer. “I saw you looking at Alexander like he was going to steal me away.” You pointed out with a smug smile.

“He did steal you away.” You grinned at him.

“You’re pouting.”

“N-No I’m not!” You laughed and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink. “Aw, you’re adorable when you get shy on me!” You cooed, using the exact same words he said to you a while back.

“You—” He picked you up by the waist and you squealed as he lifted you up. “You think you’re so smart.” He muttered as he placed you back down and you looked up at him, your skin shining from sweat and short breaths leaving your lips.

He instantly leaned in, placing a short kiss on your lips and your eyes widened before trying to chase him before he pulled away. “You do taste better than your biscuits.” You buried your head in Sebastian’s chest in embarrassment and he laughed as he started to lead the dance once more.

“Because of that, I’m charging you the rest of the 60 biscuits you bought.” Sebastian feigned hurt. “But that’s too much!” You rolled your eyes and smiled up at him. “I’m sure if you don’t want to pay, Louis can help me find something for you to do to pay me back.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and you giggled at the sour look on his face. “I’m sure you can help around the shop to pay them off, if you don’t want Louis to get involved.” His eyes softened before gently grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss to it.

“If it means I get to see you everyday, it will have been worth it.”

tags: @zoehanji @infinitebells

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #sebastian moran x reader #sebastian moran

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

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REDACTED verse - A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards.

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together.

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing:

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

#redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #vincent solaire #lovely (listener)#william solaire #sam collins #frederick #bright eyes (listener)#pop culture references

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poppywrites41 · 3 years

Text

Captive Love Ch. 2

Prince! Yoongi x Maid! Reader

Here is chapter 2! This chapter will focus on Y/N’s first day of work…and maybe a little bit of a cliffhanger.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing, violence, description of past deaths, mentions of smut

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“Rise and shine girls!” Lilith shouts through the halls of the servants’ quarters, her meaty fists pounding on each of the girl’s doors. Y/N swears she can feel her room shake every time that woman’s fist comes in contact with a door. “You all have 10 minutes to get dressed and come down to eat!” Lilith calls, her heels clacking away. Y/N raises her arms up to stretch. She looks out of her small window to see a garden with a path that leads to a small set of doors going into the back of the castle. She turns to her cupboard and takes out her servant’s outfit. She takes off her dress that she wore yesterday, neatly folded it like her mother taught her to, and placed it in the cupboard. She took a look at the outfit laid out on the bed. It was not elegant in the slightest, but it was sure prettier than any outfit she had worn in her life. It was a pretty beige with ¾ sleeves that were flexible enough to move the arms comfortably to perform the needed tasks. The skirt was neatly fitted on the waist and ran to the ankles. It was not puffy at all and had a comfortable feel to it. And to top it all off, pretty little white lace ruffles were added to the ends of the sleeves and around the top opening to give it some style, which Y/N really appreciated. When she got the dress on, Y/N took a look at herself in the small mirror hanging on her wall above her tiny sink. She spotted some dirt on her cheeks, probably from the wagon, so she splashed her face with water, rubbing at her skin. After her facewash, she noticed how messy her hair had gotten. She ran her fingers through the h/c locks and tied the hair in the front to the back, creating a half up-half down style. She made her way to her door, slipping on her shoes and head down the hall to the servants dining hall.

When she arrived, she found a seat at a table where some of the girls she arrived with yesterday were sitting at. They were not talking to each other as much as the other servants were, probably because they were new or nervous. Y/N sat down next to a young girl with dark brown hair. Once she sat down, an older woman brought her a tray with a piece of bread, some water and a small bowl of what looked like to be chicken broth. Y/N turned to the girl and offered a small smile, “Hi, I’m Y/N. We came together on the wagon yesterday. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.” The girl’s hazel eyes met hers and she gave Y/N a small smile, “It’s okay. I’m Emily. I don’t really talk when I’m nervous. I have a lot of anxiety when I feel pressured.” She said in a quiet tone. “I get it. I am totally nervous. I mean, yesterday I was living my normal life and now suddenly, I’m a servant to the royal family. The people who I thought of as family, gave me away for money without a second thought.” Y/N said taking a bite of her bread and immediately chasing it down with some water. Emily frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.” “So,” Y/N said after eating a spoonful of the bland broth, “How did you get here?” Emily looked down at her food and played with it with her spoon, “I’m actually a twin. My sister and I are daughters of bakers. My mom and dad worked so hard their entire life, baking for the royal family. My sister was a big help in the kitchen. She is so smart, kind, outgoing and beautiful. She is pretty much everything I am not. I would usually mess up tasks that would get me in trouble, but she would always defend me. My parents loved me, don’t get me wrong, they were just worried about me a lot. I wasn’t let out a lot. I could have been an embarrassment to them. Then, my sister met a man who came from a good family. They fell in love and are to be married. However, the guards came before the wedding and were trying to get my parents to give them my sister for a large sum of money. So that’s when I volunteered myself to go in her place. I didn’t want her to leave everything behind and to ruin her chance of a happily ever after, so I went in her place.” Y/N looked at the girl with awe, “You are such a good and brave sister to go in her place. I’m sure she is very thankful for you. I don’t think you are an embarrassment. Just stick with me and we will get through this together!” Emily smiles at her and nods in agreement. Before anything else could be said, Lilith’s voice was booming throughout the room, “Mealtime is over! Everyone sit down a listen. Tomorrow is the Grand Royal Gala so we will need to clean the castle extra today. Royal families from all over the country will be attending so I want that castle spotless. Here are the groups and their tasks for the day. Rosetta, you and your hall will clean the floors and windows of the ball room. Claire, take your girls and polish all of the utensils and dishware. Isabel, you and your hall are in charge of cleaning the dinning hall. I want that space especially clean.”

While scrubbing away the dirt on the floor of the halls, Y/N reflected on what Elizabeth informed them about the royal family:

First off, the king. He has his own personal servants who clean, dress and cook for him, so it was highly unlikely for her to be involved with him. He is a strict ruler and likes for everything to be perfect. He does not interfere much with his sons’ lives, but he is more attentive to his two eldest sons. He wants to make sure they are both well-educated and fit enough to rule the kingdom when his time is up.

Same goes for the queen. She is a more carefree person than her husband. She enjoys balls and festivities. She interacts more with her sons than her spouse, but definitely more with her youngest sons, since the older ones are with the king or in counsel or military meetings. She clearly loves her family but is not the most observant or caring mother. She lets them do as they please.

Now, the eldest prince, Prince Seokjin. He is the next in line for the throne. Elizabeth said that he is very serious about his role in the family. With his brothers, he can be a fun person who will crack jokes and enjoy the company of others. But when wronged, he can be a completely different person. He once chopped off a chef’s fingers for making a soup too spicy for his liking and fed those fingers to his dogs. Since he will most likely become king in the near future, more galas will be held to find the prince a suitable wife. Overall, Y/N believes that she will not be in contact with the prince very often either.

The second eldest is Prince Yoongi, the second in line for the throne. According to Elizabeth, he rarely shows his face in public. He is extremely introverted. He keeps to himself, usually in his room where he will write poems, or he will be sleeping. Even with his introverted nature, he is somewhat of a genius. Elizabeth said that when he was a teenager, the king went to war with a foreign land and was at a disadvantage. It was Prince Yoongi, at age 16, that stepped in and completely remodeled the military tactics, which won them the war. However, like his brother, when wronged, he turns into a beast. One day, he was asleep in his room when a servant came in to clean. The servant did not notice the prince asleep and continued his task. It was not until he accidentally knocked the prince’s favorite ink off of his table and spilled it on the ground. The prince woke up in a rage. The man tried to apologize to the prince, only to have himself sent to the dungeons for a week with no food or water. On the last day, Prince Yoongi went down to see the servant, only to behead him himself.

When Elizabeth told them that story, Y/N felt deep chills run down her spine. Hopefully she won’t have to interact with Yoongi during her time at the castle.

From what she heard about the third and fourth oldest princes, Hoseok and Namjoon, they are not as hot tempered as the two eldest. Hoseok is a kind person with a bubbly personality, but when he is pushed the wrong way, he can be a force to be reckoned with. Namjoon on the other hand has not publicly displayed any hostile actions. He is extremely smart and a good leader. From what Elizabeth said, Namjoon is somewhat of a leader to all the brothers. He is very considerate of all of their opinions and is able to settle any arguments between the brothers. Y/N does not suspect to have any issues with those two princes.

Now the last three. Jimin and Taehyung, the fraternal twins who like to cause mischief in the palace. They seem to like to pick on the staff and belittle anyone who is of lower status then themselves. Out of the two of them, Taehyung is more sadistic. He will keep harassing staff members until they leave, hurt themselves or commit suicide. Jimin on the other hand, likes to make people, especially the women he has accompany him in his chambers, feel like they cannot survive without him. Whenever he has wronged one of his girls and they try to talk to him about it, he uses his charming attitude and well-chosen words to turn the whole conversation around onto the girls. He would make them feel like they were the ones who wronged him, and they would apologize to him and swear that they will do better.

Last but not least, the youngest prince, Jungkook. He had everything handed to him on a diamond plate. Elizabeth noted that his beauty almost rivals that of his oldest brother and Jungkook knows it. She said that he excels in anything he does. However, he is probably the scariest out of all the brothers. Jungkook can get away with anything…ANYTHING. Apparently, he was in love with a princess once and planned on marrying her. One day before he planned on proposing to her, he caught her having sex with one of his guards in the library. Furious, he went to his room and waited for her to return. When she did, he asked her where she was, and she lied to him saying that she went for a walk in the palace garden. Jungkook then called the guard she was with into his room and had two guards block the doors out of his room. He tied the princess to a chair, ignoring her cries trying to convince him that she would never cheat on him. He then ordered the guard to remove all of his clothing, leaving him nude. Jungkook had the guard put on prison cuffs himself while the prince hammered a hook into the wall. He beckoned the naked guard to lift his cuffed hands onto the hook. Once everything was in place, he slowly began to castrate the guard, relishing in the man’s screams of agony and the princesses’ shrill screams of horror. After he castrated him, Jungkook swiftly sliced the man’s neck, causing blood to spew out from the slash and him to choke on his own blood, all the while Jungkook forced the princess to watch. Once the man’s body stopped twitching, he untied the frozen princess and took her to his balcony. The princess began apologizing to the prince promising that she will never be unfaithful to him ever again, swearing her loyalty to him and begging for his forgiveness. He gave her a warm smile and gave her a small kiss on the lips, telling her that she is forgiven. And Just as the princess began to relax, Jungkook shoved her over the balcony and watched her body fall to ground. When the prince’s parents found out, they sent word to the princesses’ father that she had run off with a man and that they cannot find them anywhere. The princesses’ father believed them and sent search parties all around the country, never to find out the truth about what happened to his daughter. It’s because of that incident that Jungkook ends the lives of those who betray him.

All of a sudden, she heard something being knocked over and water spilling. Then a sudden cry of pain. Worried that one of girls hurt themselves, Y/N immediately got up and ran down the hall towards the noise, ignoring Emily telling her not to involve herself.

Y/N could hear a males voice from down the hall, “You stupid whore!! Your spilled you water on my fucking new shoes!!”

Once she turned the corner to where she would find the girl, her eyes widened, and her heart stopped.

#poppywrites41 #yoongi x reader smut #yandere yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #prince yoongi #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader

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icefire149 · 3 years

Note

For the writing prompt: 9) When baking chocolate chip cookies / destiel (because we all need more cute fic in our life)

Hi Amirah! This one kept me going yesterday and today while I needed a break from work so thank you <3 I hope you enjoy it!

#9 When baking chocolate chip cookies – Dean/Castiel

If Dean hadn’t already known that angels couldn’t sleep, he probably would have thought that Cas was deep asleep next to him. For a minute he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and the slight fluttering of his eyelashes. Normally, this wasn’t something he’d allow himself for more than a heartbeat, but it had been a few days since him and Sam saved Cas from Rowena’s attack dog spell.

Since they came home, Dean had barely been able to get his four hours of sleep. Every time he tried, he woke up in a cold sweat remembering the sweat and the blood smeared on Cas’ face. A part of him still wasn’t completely convinced that Cas wasn’t going to drop dead on him the second he let himself relax.

“Dean,” Cas breathed out. “I can feel your eyes. You’re staring.”

Since mid-morning, Dean set Cas up in his room for a movie day. They both sat with their backs to the headboard, but Dean made sure Cas’ back and head was supported with pillows he didn’t steal from around the bunker. Cas tilted his head up to look at Dean.

“What, am I not allowed to look now?”

“When I’m feeling better, yes.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth hooked into a crooked grin. “That kinda defeats the purpose, Cas. I gotta keep an eye on ya to make sure that you’re not getting sicker.”

“I’m not getting sicker, you know that.” He tried to readjust his head and back, but the pillows weren’t laying right. Cas scowled. “Rowena removed the spell. I’ll heal in time. I can’t go backwards. Nothing to worry about.”

Dean shoved the laptop further up the bed and pushed forward. He manhandled Cas and the pillows until the angel was comfortable again. Cas glared the entire time. When he was finished, Dean started the movie up again, putting himself and the laptop back into position.

After a pause, Dean spoke. “I’m always gonna worry.”

“You shouldn’t,” Cas said much quieter than before.

“Too bad. I’d be a sucky friend if I didn’t.” Dean lightly elbowed him. “Just deal with it.”

“Okay, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes opened a crack. He wasn’t sure when he had slipped and fallen asleep. Yawning, it was probably the best sleep he’d had in months. His content feeling faded the moment his memory caught up and he realized that he was alone.

Putting his feet to the floor, Dean felt twitchy. Not that he expected Cas to stick around, but…..he felt the angel’s absence like a hollow in his chest. He opened his bedroom door and a whiff of smoke tickled his nose.

“No. No. No no no.” Dean hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen. His eyes watered from the thick smoke in the room.

Cas quickly spun on his heels and let out a small squeak. “I...I, um.”

“What did you do?” Dean crossed the room and turned off the oven. All the smoke was from whatever mess was burning inside.

The angel’s eyebrows pressed together. His grip on the throw blanket that he had wrapped around his shoulder’s tightened. “I was trying to cook.”

“Yeah, Cas. I can see that. Congrats you made charcoal.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas pushed past him and swiftly exited the room.

Dean watched him go, and immediately regretted his words. With a deep sigh, he got busy figuring out how to fix the mess Cas made. When he got the tray out of the oven, the burned mess was completely unrecognizable. He disposed of it and started cleaning the mountain of dishes that were left in the sink.

After a while Sam wandered in wearing a confused look. “Was there a fire while I was out?”

“Apparently,” Dean shrugged, putting another dish on the drying rack.

“Oh, did Cas burn the cookies?”

“The what?” Dean dropped the spoon in his hand and turned around.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “The cookies, you know. They’re a snack people tend to enjoy.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

Sam sighed. “I supervised him before I went on my run. He was making cookies.”

“There is no way that’s what he put in the oven.” Dean dried his hands. “I pulled a burned brick out of the oven.”

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Dean pointed at the trash can, and Sam crossed the room to take a peek. He cringed. “Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll hold his hand from start to finish next time.”

“Why was Cas making cookies in the first place? He doesn’t eat.”

“Dude, it’s not rocket science. He was making them for you.”

“What?”

“As a thank you, because you’ve been taking care of him.” Exasperated, Sam shook his head and left the kitchen. He didn’t have an ounce of energy left to walk Dean through his new crisis.

It was a while later when Dean found where Cas had hidden himself. He was bundled up in a ball of blankets in the corner of the library. There were a few booked scattered at his side on the floor, but he sat there with his eyes closed in that moment. His forehead was shiny with sweat, but Dean decided not to call attention to it. He instead placed a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies on the angel’s lap.

Startled, Cas jumped an inch. “What are you doing?”

Dean’s knee cracked, but he still climbed onto the floor to join Cas. “I brought you a snack.”

“While appreciated, I don’t need a snack.” Cas’ lip twitched as he glanced down at the plate.

“Fine,” Dean exhaled. “You got me, I need help then finishing this.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curved up this time. “I think you’re more than capable of eating this many without my assistance.”

Dean plucked a cookie from the top of the pile, and took a bite. Cas didn’t take his eyes off of him for a moment.

“You’re missing out,” Dean winked. “More of the secret ingredient for myself then.”

Cas raised a curious eyebrow at Dean before dropping his gaze to the cookies. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret then, Cas. It’s something you gotta taste for yourself.”

He took a bite, and Cas’ entire face pinched like he was trying to sort and identify every molecule in his mouth.

Dean smiled, watching the angel attempting to puzzle out the answer. I love him, the thought blossomed in his mind like it was the most natural thing. His heart immediately felt like it was on the edge of swan diving out of his chest.

He was almost dizzy, but somehow he didn’t mind so much. A tiny part of him hoped that Cas actually could taste it.

Ask me more writing prompts (I’m using these as warm ups so send a number and a ship)

#spn #my writing #the secret ingredient was love

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fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

Text

“Natural” - Chapter Four - Embry Call x Reader

Baking Cookies

When I awoke in the morning, the spot where Embry’s body laid was empty.

I rolled over onto the pillow he used and immediately was greeted with the scent of him. I smelt the teakwood scent of his shampoo, deodorant, or cologne of sorts.

I smiled to myself, figuring it was after I told him I loved the smell of my new mahogany teakwood candle I bought four years ago. Since that day, he switched over to stuff that smelt that way. My mind raced back to the day in question.

Embry walked into my house, a little earlier than Jake and Quil would arrive.

“Hey Em, what’s up?” I look up from the couch. “Not much.” He smiles at me like a doofus from the doorway.

“Come on Em, sit down.” I pat the spot next to me.

He plops down next to me, my senses invaded with one of my favorite scents. I turn and look at him, sniffing the air surrounding him.

“What’s up, bean?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. Acting completely oblivious.

“Em, you smell so good, that’s my favorite scent.” I move closer to him.

“Oh, is it?” He asks innocently.

“Yeah. Just like my candle, remember?” I look up at his face.

“Oh wow, so now I’m just gonna be a candle to you?” He laughs.

“No, you’ll be my walking air freshener.” I smile, burying myself deeper into his side before the other guys would soon arrive. Ruining my moment with Embry.

Though we weren’t dating back then, nor mentioned any deeper feelings, our physical contact always implied more. Embry always held me like I was a bubble about to burst-- only when we were alone, of course.

I cherished Embry’s touch more than I would’ve liked to admit back then, and I hoped he had felt the same.

I open my eyes, thanking life and whoever was in charge of it for making Embry my soul mate. I never thought I would hear Embry say the words he did, I always thought neither of us would grow the balls to do it.

I stand up, walking over to turn the lights on. I saw a note on my desk out of the corner of my eye.

Good morning bean. Sorry I had to leave. I didn’t wanna tell your dad we were dating by him catching us in your bed and I told my mom I would make breakfast for her today. Text me when you wake up.

Love,

Embry

I smile at the sweet gesture, holding the note to my chest.

I check the time, seeing that it’s only seven in the morning. I figured that since today was my dad’s first day back to work since we moved here that I should make him breakfast and coffee. He wasn’t going to wake up for another half an hour.

I go downstairs and start making pancakes and muffins as I turn the coffee maker on.

About a half an hour later, I hear my dad shifting around upstairs, getting ready for work. He was due to leave at 8:30, so by then everything would be done and warm.

“Hey what’s up kiddo? You’re up early.” I hear from behind me in the kitchen entryway.

“I figured I’d make you breakfast today. First day back at work, ya know.” I smile at him, putting the plate of pancakes down on the table next to the cup of coffee.

“Thank you. I appreciate it, it smells great in here.”

“That’s the chocolate chip muffins.” I say as I begin to take them out of the oven.

We sit and chat, talking about how my day went yesterday.

“So you and Embry, is that finally a thing?” He asks, eyes raising and putting more pancakes in his mouth.

“I mean, kinda.” I smile at my plate.

“Billy, Harry, and I were talking about it. Well we talked about all of you, actually. Apparently Jacob is still chasing Bella like a lost puppy. But we all talked about when you and Embry would finally do something about your whole ‘situation’ you’ve got going there.” He says, waving his finger in a circle as he talked about our ‘situation.’

“Wow, good to know you were all in on this.” I chuckle.

“Listen, we’ve all been waiting for a wedding since you guys were like four.” He laughs, hands up in the air, feigning innocence.

“Very sweet.” I say snarkily.

“Regardless, I’m just happy to see you happy again.” He smiles at me, eyes showing true appreciation and happiness.

“Thank you dad.”

That’s the thing about my dad, he really only cared about my feelings and what was the best for me. He too, was one of my best friends, but the father that he needed to be, too. He really did the whole “dad” thing well. As well as the whole “mom” thing, considering my mother left us when I was four.

The one thing I took from that shitshow was that you can’t force people to love you, or to be in your life. Sometimes I wonder about where she is, or if she misses us. But most of the time, I couldn’t be bothered. My dad raised me better than she ever could have, I have no regrets growing up with solely him. He was the best father I could ask for.

“Oh and one more thing.” He looks up from the paper.

“Yeah?”

“Tell Embry that if he’s trying to be sneaky, that he’s really bad about it.” He sips his coffee.

“What?” I choke on my pancake.

“I’m just saying, I was on the couch when he carried you in last night. I think you were asleep, but I never heard him come back down. He’s not still upstairs, right?” He looks at me, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh god no, dad. I was asleep, yeah. But no he didn’t sleep over. No clue how he left or when because like I said-- dead asleep. He had to drive my car home.” I took a sip of my water.

“Alright. I like him, (Y/N). But, don’t push it. I know you’re an adult now, but just… be careful. And let me have my own sense of peace.” His eyebrows furrowed together, almost cringing at what he was saying.

“Oh god, no dad. Please don’t do this now. Tiffany Call gave me that talk years ago to spare me from this situation exactly. We aren’t doing… that.” I say, uncomfortable talking to my dad about Embry and I’s potential sex life.

“Oh thank god. So you know how that all works, right? You know not to be stupid?” He asks, eyes pleading with mine.

“Yes, dad. Oh god please don’t do this to me. I don’t even know when that would happen, just don’t do this. I’m trying to eat.”

“Great. Good. I’m going to work now, make good choices.” He puts his plate in the sink, kisses my head goodbye, and practically sprints out the door.

“Holy shit.” I mumble to myself, playing with my food on the plate.

I text Embry a good morning and clean up my mess from breakfast.

I see that it’s not even 9:30 yet by the time I’m done and decide to get some more stuff done in my room.

I text in the groupchat that includes Jake, Quil, Embry and I.

“So dorks, what should I bring to the hangout/bonfire tonight?” I text.

“Anything edible, always.” - Quil

“I second that notion.” - Jake

“I mean, I was gonna say just yourself. But I’m down to eat whenever.” -Embry

“Come to my house at 5.” - Jake

“You got it boss.” I reply.

I received a call from Embry, telling me he was going to come over to my house in a few minutes.

I started to get all the ingredients together that it would take for me to make an absurd amount of cookies, not knowing how many people were going to be there. Plus getting a glimpse into how much the guys ate the last few days tells me that I would never have too much.

Within five minutes of Embry’s phone call, there was a knock on my front door.

I open it to see a smiling Embry, warming my heart. I hug him and pull him inside.

“How did you get here so fast?” I ask.

“I ran here, bean. I’m fast ya know. It took me like a minute.” He shrugs as he reaches behind me, grabbing a muffin off the counter, smiling.

“Oh like, in wolf form?” I ask, curiosity dripping off my tongue.

“Yeah, how else? Did you make these? They’re great.” He licks the crumbs off his lips, before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“Yes I did, thank you. That’s crazy, Em. Do you think you could maybe, show me one day?” I look at him with pleading eyes.

“Sure thing, bean.” Another kiss, but this one on the tip of my nose.

“And now you can help me make a disturbing amount of cookies.” I smile, throwing my finger guns in the air.

“I mean, if I must.” He teases, pulling me into him.

We began our baking fiasco. Chaos ensued quickly.

Embry flicked a smidge of flour at me, landing on my face and shirt.

“Em… did you just?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“I may have, may not have.” He looks at me with a questioning face.

I took a bigger pinch, flicking it at him.

“Oh bean, you don’t know what you just started.” He smirked.

“No, Emb-” I was cut off as I was lifted over his shoulder, being spun around.

Our laughter echoed blissfully through the empty house.

“Put me down!” I shout, laughing too hard to breathe, slapping his back in an effort to get him to do as I asked.

“Never.” He laughs.

“Embry, I’m gonna get dizzy.” I giggle.

“Okay, fineeee.”

He places me on the counter, standing in front of me.

I looked deeply into his eyes, my hands finding their home in the hair on the nape of his neck.

His hands held my waist, pressing his forehead against mine.

“Please.” I beg.

He nods before he presses his lips to mine. Those soft, warm lips drove me crazy in the best way-- always leaving me starving for more. His every touch sent tingles up my spine. I slowly traced my tongue over his bottom lip, in which he just pressed his lips a little harder against mine.

“Sorry.” He pulled away breathlessly.

“For what?” I ask.

“I just, I want to take things slow. I promised it to myself, and you. You deserve that respect.”

“I don’t think you making out with me would make me think you don’t respect me.” I laugh.

“I know. I just want it to feel like it’s us, I want to go slow because of the bond. The bond makes it difficult to take things slow, but I want you to know I felt this way well before I imprinted.” He smiles softly.

“I understand, Em. Thank you.” I kiss his cheek.

“I’m so glad it was you. I always thought deep down it would be, but I couldn’t bear it if it wasn’t. I never wanted to hide this from you, and worse off I would never want someone else.”

“I’m so happy it was me, too. I can’t thank my lucky stars enough.” I smile at him.

We sit in each other’s arms for a few moments, until we decide it’s best that we get back to the baking.

Hours later, we had made like 75 sugar cookies. I was drained, and never wanted to see another oven again. But, the cookie dough was always a nice treat to sneak.

“This is enough, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s enough to hold us over for five minutes.” He laughs.

“Five minutes?!” I exclaim.

“I’m just kidding… kinda. We all eat a lot. There’s gonna be other stuff there, too. We made more than enough cookies.” He laughs.

We pack them up and watch our favorite cartoons until it’s time to go over to Jake’s.

We pack the cookies in my car and head over.

“So how was breakfast with your mom?” I ask, turning my attention from the road to him for a second.

“It was good. She was happy to see me in the morning, opposed to me running around all hours of the night mysteriously.” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Why not tell her, Em?”

“She doesn’t need that. She’ll worry just as much, if not more. Knowing that this life really entails. She’ll get scared. It’s better to do it this way, believe me. I love her and I hate lying, but it’s better. Then it brings up awkward shit I don’t wanna talk about, this obviously came from my dad’s side. We don’t exactly talk about him, you know.” He looks at me with saddened eyes.

“I think I understand. I’m sorry Em. I’m here for you if you ever need to talk or get out of the house.” I rub small circles in the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” He looks at me with caring eyes.

“Of course. By the way, I made breakfast for my dad, too.” I stifle my laugh, trying to lighten the conversation.

“Oh, how was that?”

“He said you’re not good at being sneaky.” I laughed.

“What?” His face dropped, eyes widening, trying not to laugh. “Well, he said he was on the couch when you brought me in. Then he said that he never heard you leave, asked if you slept over. I told him you didn’t. I saved you, Em.” I smirk at him.

“Oh god, that’s great. Exactly how I wanted to see him again.” He groaned.

“He still loves you. Apparently him, Billy, and Harry were all trying to figure out how long it would take for us to get together. Apparently they all thought we would grow up and end up together.” I laugh.

“I know, my mom did, too. I told her this morning about us, she was really happy to hear about it. She wants to see you again.”

“I can’t wait to see her. Let’s do that this week.” I smile.

We pull up to Jake’s house and enter the small home.

“What’s up losers?” Paul calls from the couch.

“Hey Paul.” I wave from the end of the living room.

“Looking pretty still I see, huh?” He flirts.

I grabbed Embry’s hand as I felt him growing tense next to me.

“Shut up, Paul.” Embry hisses.

Paul raises his hands up in surrender.

“You got it man, I’m just being honest to my old friend.” He smirks.

He knew what he was doing, for sure. Paul used to love to instigate when we were younger. Can’t say I didn’t miss the fun jabs we used to have-- it was never boring with Paul around.

“Enough, Paul.” Billy rolls into the living room.

“Hey Billy.” I smile, walking over to say hello.

“Hey there, kid. I finally got to see your dad yesterday, had a great time. It’s great to have you both back. And how are you, Embry?” Billy looks over to Embry, who is basically velcroed to my back after Paul’s teasing.

“I’m good.” He smiled back.

He nods at Embry before smiling at me and rolling back into his room.

“You gotta chill, Paul. Embry’s gonna get mad now.” Quill laughs.

“I can take him.” Paul scoffs, smiling at Embry and I.

“Jeez, Paul. Ease up a bit. What did you get into today?” I ask, smirking.

“I’m just having fun! Can’t I torture Embry a little bit?” He laughs at me, throwing his arms up.

“Not about this, Paul.” Jacob scolds.

“Okay fine, I won’t make fun of you being whipped anymore.” He smiles.

I thump him in the back of the head after that one.

“Damn, (Y/N). Just as feisty as I remember. I missed having you around, you keep up with the banter well.” He laughs.

“Paul, there’s never a dull moment with you.” I roll my eyes, but he knew what I meant. I did miss his antics just a little bit.

Embry kissed the top of my head before we sat down with everyone. I took the couch and Embry took the spot in front of me.

I looked over to my left and looked at Jake.

“Hey, how did yesterday go?” I ask him, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

“Uh, complicated. But we have a grad party to go to this weekend.” He says, not looking from the TV.

“Complicated? How did it go?” I ask, concerned.

“We got into an argument.” He looks at me, shame spreading upon his face.

“What about?” I furrow my brows.

“Well, I thought we were having a moment. So I thought I should tell her again that he isn’t the only option. That I’m the better option for her. She wouldn’t have to change anything, be anything, she could just be Bella. I wouldn’t constantly put her in harm’s way.” He looks back at the ground.

“What did she say?”

“To stop berating her boyfriend and his family, because ‘I don’t know them’.”

“I’m sorry, Jake.” I empathize.

“Thank you. I just wish she would open her eyes and see what I could give her, I could give her so many things that he can’t.” He looks back at me with sad eyes.

“Well, I’m sorry, Jake. I really am. I don’t think you should sit and wait around for her, though. You need to live life for what’s best for you.”

“I’m not giving up until her heart stops beating.” He looks down at the floor angrily.

“Jake, she’s only like 18. That’s a very long time.” I pat him on the back, concern growing. “No, she wants to become one of them. She wants him to change her.” His jaw clenches, fists forming into tight balls.

“Jake…” I rest my hand on his, calming him slightly.

“(Y/N), I love her so much. I just don’t know how I could ever stop.” His voice cracks, looking back up at me.

“I know, I know. I think everything will work itself out one way or another. Maybe you’ll meet someone, and Bella will be less than a distant memory. You still never imprinted.” I reason.

Quil looks at me, shaking his head no quickly. I give him a confused look.

“If I imprint, if. Even so, I just want to love who I love, not whoever my genetics tell me I should. I want a say in my future. Not everyone gets lucky enough to imprint on their best friend they loved their whole life.” He glances over at Embry, glaring in his direction.

“Jake… Don’t do that. That’s not fair.” I whisper.

He lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Think of it this way, you know for certain that she isn’t your soulmate-- you know this isn’t what fate intended. I know you understand what I’m saying, you just don’t accept it. But once you do, you might realize that there’s more to life than Bella. You can still love her as a friend, but there’s something more for you out there than her. You are destined to love someone so intensely, so intense that 99% of people will never be lucky enough to experience it. You’ll have a love so pure it couldn’t even be put into words. You deserve the world, but Bella won’t be giving it to you. You have to support yourself, do things for you. You’ll meet someone along the way who will turn your world upside down, I just know it. I just wish it would be easier for you, sooner.” I smile at Jacob softly at the end of my speech.

Jacob looks at me, tears brimming his eyes. He pulls me into a tight hug, almost crushing me in his arms.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He whispers.

Quil and Embry looked at me, eyes wide and seemingly astonished.

I rub slight circles on Jacob’s back for a moment, showing my support.

“Okay but, when I broke my arm, like actually shattered it, and cried-- you called me a bitch and told me to get over it. I just wanna address that real quick.” Quil breaks the silence, earning a little laugh from all of us.

Jacob chuckles on my shoulder, pulling back.

“Okay, and?” I ask sarcastically.

“I just don’t think I’m getting the same treatment.” Quil scoffs, laughing.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t steal my fruit rollup that day, I wouldn’t have been so upset with you.” I smirked. “I think those might not be of the same magnitude.” Embry defends Quil.

“Hey… whose side are you on?”

Embry raises his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just saying, you’re picking favorites, clearly.” He laughs.

“Oh hush, you know you’re all my best friends. I love you all.” I smile, rubbing a circle onto the back of Embry’s hand.

“Yes, we love you, too. Even if you’re kind of a bully. But that’s fine.” Quil shrugs, smiling to himself.

We all laugh a bit before sitting down in silence for a moment.

“So, this party…” I trail off.

“You can come.” He slightly smiles.

“Cool. I wanna meet the people, faces to names, ya know?” I admit.

“You’re meeting leeches, nothing too special.” Paul scoffs.

“Well, they won’t hurt me. I just wanna go with you guys, give Bella her gift, and then see all these vampires. I wanna see what they look like.” I admit.

“Freaky eyes. Though, they’re not as freaky as the red ones.” Quil interjects.

“Interesting. Well hopefully the party is fun.” I shrug.

I felt Embry tense up between my legs.

“Do you really want to go?” He asks, looking back at me.

“Yeah, kinda. Especially if you guys are going. I wanna see who Bella spends her time with, you guys don’t seem very fond. I wanna see why.” I scratch the top of his head, getting another whiff of that teakwood scent.

“I mean, we could stay home if you don’t feel safe.” He offers.

“Em, I think I’ll be okay. You’re all there, I don’t feel unsafe.” I tell him, trying to comfort him.

“Embry, she’ll be fine. She just got back, let her go to a party and have some fun.” Quil huffs.

Embry looks back at me with pleading eyes.

“Embry, I’ll be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to me. Besides, I wanna see what happened to everyone I went to high school with.” I smile at him, leaning down to leave a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay, just please don’t stray too far from me there.” He pleads.

“Em, I won’t be letting go of you all night.” I smile.

“Yuck!” Quil throws a couch pillow at me.

“Rude.” I huff, chucking it right back.

“It’s almost time to go to the beach. I don’t wanna miss the food.” Paul says looking at the time.

“Oh we are not missing the food.” Embry says confidently.

“I’d never let such a thing happen.” Quil confirms.

“So let’s get going before Jared ruins it for all of us.” Jake smirks from the couch.

We all get up to leave when Jacob turns to me.

“Thank you.” He mouths, hugging me once more.

He pulled away and I saw Embry begin to look a little pouty.

I walk over to Embry, stand up on my tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek as I grabbed his hand.

He looks down at me, smiling like a goofball, returning the smile was as easy as breathing.

We all walk out and pile into my car to head over to the beach.

“Ooh, cookies!” I hear Quil and Paul exclaim from the back seat, I hear the container shifting.

“No!” I turn around shouting.

Quil and Paul look like they had just seen a ghost.

“She wanted to bring them to the bonfire.” Embry chuckles.

The car ride filled once again with Embry playing music, talking to Quil and Paul. I noticed that Jake was still quiet, poor guy.

I park the car and turn it off.

“We’re here.” Embry says, getting out of the car and running to my side to open my door.

“Bean.” He says, notioning for me to get out of the car.

“Thanks, Em.” I smile.

He places his hand on my lower back, driving me mad with excitement.

“Give me those cookies.” I point at Paul.

“Alright, boss.” He laughs, handing the cookies over to me.

We begin the walk down to where the bonfire was being set up and I see many people there, causing my nerves to rack and my heart to race.

Embry stops in his tracks, bending down to look me in the eyes, hands falling to the sides of my arms.

“It’s okay, they’re all gonna love you, you’re great. You’ve met them all before, things will go great. You even brought cookies. Try to relax, bean.” He gives me a comforting smile.

“Thank you, Em.” I smile.

“Of course. We gotta catch up with the rest of them, now. Let’s go.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead once more, before grabbing my hand and leading the way over to everyone.

“Hey everyone. (Y/N)’s back. She even brought cookies.” He announces.

“Hey, thanks for having me.” I wave, smiling.

___________________________

Word Count: 4269

I II III IV V VI VII VIII VIIII X XIR XIE XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIIII

#embry call #embry call x reader #embry call fanfiction #embry call imagine #jacob black #Quil Ateara #Jared Cameron #paul lahote #sam uley #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #brady fuller #collin littlesea #wolf pack #wolf pack x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader

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jaehyunspeachparty · 3 years

Text

daddy jaehyun

iv.l. (a)

Sunoh has loved banana bread with peanut butter lately. So you bake him the banana bread every few days so that he can eat his favorite breakfast. And you've been preparing it for him for weeks, also for Miga, but that day the smell made you sick. It was so disgusting that you immediately turn around and throw up in the sink. "Mummy, are you sick?" Asks Miga and came running towards you. You quickly take a glass and fill it with water. "Sweetheart, can you smell on the bread?” You point to the plate and Miga took the banana bread and smelled it. "Does it smell bad?" You ask her, but the girl shook her head. "No, it smells like every day. Super yummy!" She grins and still holds the plate tightly in her small hands. It was strange. Why did the bread smell so disgusting to you, but it was okay for Miga? “Oh,okay! Can you take the plates and give one to your brother?" You couldn't see the banana bread anymore and you didn't want to smell it. You drink water and rinse your vomit in the sink. You actually feel good again and didn't know why this sudden nausea was coming. "Are you all right, Mummy?" Miga looked at you worriedly when you sat down with her with the glass of water. "Yes, I was only sick for a moment." You smile and take another sip of water. The taste of the vomit was still in your mouth and you couldn't wait to brush your teeth. But Jaehyun was still asleep, as his hungover was more intense and he came home very late. But your dizziness was not good and you fear that you may have been sick after all. Until Jaehyun wakes up, you just decide to sit down with the kids in front of the TV. You don't really like the kids watching TV all day, but you feel so tired and dizzy. Jaehyun still wasn't awake and you were so angry. While Miga and Sunoh watched TV, Geon sat on the floor and chewed on his toys. Kiwoo was on top of you and you breastfeed your son. "Slow down my little one." Kiwoo was quite greedy and drank incredibly quickly. Maybe he had a growth spurt. "Mummy, is Daddy not here again today?" Suddenly, Miga wasn't interested in the television anymore, she missed her father. "He's still sleeping. He came home very late yesterday." You look at her and smile gently. "But he's always there on weekends." She looked at you sadly and you see more and more how the children miss their father. "You can go to wake him up," you suggest and you thought anyway that Jaehyun should now take care of his children. "Sunoh, come on let's go to Daddy." She pulled on his sleeve, but Sunoh shook his head. "No," he said pouting and crawling in your direction. "Don't you like to see your Daddy?" You ask him carefully and stroke his head. "I want to cuddle now." For Sunoh, having Kiwoo on top of you was more of a problem because he wanted your attention now. Sunoh always expressed himself differently with his feelings. While Miga always said what she wanted, Sunoh was more likely to say that he wanted more attention from you. Since Jaehyun was not home that much, his attacks of jealousy had started again. "Then I'll go to Daddy alone," Miga then said and hopped off the couch. "Mummyyyyyy ..." Sunoh started to whimper because he still couldn't climb on you. "Sunoh, I'm still breastfeeding your brother. You have to wait now." You speak to him more strictly now, but Sunoh didn't like that at all. He started to cry and didn't want to accept the rebuff. Geon looked at his big brother in amazement and then looked at you. You were now afraid that he would start crying too. Geon was more empathetic and usually went along with the feelings of his siblings. You were just exhausted. You had now reached a point where you were wondering if having so many children was a good idea. You think of Johanna, who was now a single parent. If you ever separated from Jaehyun, would you manage to raise your four children well? "Mummy ... cuddle with me ..." Sunoh continued howling and pulled on your shirt. "Stop it Sunoh. When I'm done with Kiwoo we can cuddle, but you have to wait now." You admonish him and look at him seriously. It hurt you to turn him away like that, but all you knew was that he was seeking Jaehyun's lack of attention from you. "NOOOO!" He kept crying and his whole face was red and wet. Tears rolled down his cheeks and snot ran under his nose. You lean over to the table and quickly take a handkerchief to clean him a little. But Sunoh didn't stop crying and now Geon, who was watching the whole situation, joined in. The 9 month old boy also started crying because his big brother was crying. Only Kiwoo was in a trance and continued to drink from your breast. He was so busy with his food that he didn't see the drama. Such scenes have happened a lot lately and you didn't know what to do anymore. You were glad that Miga was already so independent. "What's going on here?" Jaehyun came to you now and saw the whole catastrophe. Sunoh looked at him and cried again. "Mummyyyyy ..." He put his fingers in his mouth and his face was even wetter now. "Come on, leave Mummy alone now. We're going into the kitchen." Jaehyun was about to pick up Sunoh, but then the boy began to scream and clung to you. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" He was screaming so loudly that Miga covered her ears. "Come on Sunoh. Let go of Mummy." Jaehyun sighed and didn't understand why Sunoh had such outbursts of anger. "NOOO! I want to stay with Mummy." Sunoh screamed and screamed and you couldn't look at it any longer. "Jaehyun, just take Geon and go." After all, your little son was also sitting on the floor, looking at his older brother and crying too. You knew that he was only crying because Sunoh was crying and once he was gone he would calm down again. Jaehyun sighed and went around the couch to pick up Geon. Then he took Miga by the hand and they left the room. "My big boy, what's the matter with you?" You ask him worriedly and wipe his tears away. As soon as Jaehyun was out of the room, he calmed down again. "I want to be with you." Sunoh sobbed a little more, but he looked at you with wide eyes. "Okay, but no more crying. Okay?" You look at him seriously and Sunoh nodded. You open your arm and Sunoh lay down in your armpit. The boy looked back at the TV and Kiwoo slowly fell asleep on your chest.

After lunch, as always, Geon, Kiwoo and Sunoh took their nap. Miga sat in her room and played with her dolls. It was the first time you and Jaehyun could be alone. You are actually looking forward to this time, but today you are afraid of a confrontation. But nausea also contracted in your stomach. Have you been sick? "Y/N ... I'm sorry about yesterday." Jaehyun came up to you and looked at you with concern. So many emotions came up and immediately tears ran down your cheeks. "I don't know why I didn't called. I think I just needed an evening to myself." Jaehyun stroked his head and didn't quite know what to say. "Do you think I don't even need a break. My job is 24/7. I’m alone with the children and never have a break. I can only make the children sleep at the same time, like now, if you help." You got angry and couldn't control your tears. "Should we hire someone? Do you need help?" Jaehyun then asked, but that's not the problem. "No, that's not the point. I love our children and I am happy to be there for them 24/7. But what about us?" You look at him and press your lips together. "We just have to slow down now. It's only for a few more weeks. My job isn't forever and the children are just more important now. I don't have any more time." Jaehyun himself was desperate about the situation, but that was his only solution. But that statement broke your heart. He confirmed to you what you were afraid of. You weren't important enough right now. "You just decide to push me away?" You close your eyes for a moment and hope that you are just having a bad nightmare. "No, I don't want to push you away. But the job makes money and I can't neglect the children." "I miss you, that I can hardly bare it anymore and you make a list where you put me in. Apparently, drinking is more important than me too." You reach for a handkerchief to quickly drain your tears. "I really miss you. And it was so stupid from that I was yesterday out but...", Jaehyun said immediately, but suddenly you hear a voice. "Daddy, can we play?" Miga came down to you and you turn away because you didn't want her to see that you were crying. Jaehyun saw you pull away from him. He picked Miga up and kissed her cheek. "Of course, let's go play."

You have to admit that you weren't sure yourself if you were right. You feel selfish for soliciting Jaehyun's attention, but you miss him. And at the same time you were angry that he came home drunk yesterday evening and then argued this with "I need a break". You were in one back and forth. Your feelings were mixed up and you could hardly think clearly. You got that terrible nausea again. You notice how suddenly your body became so weak. Did you feel sick because of the psychological pressure? Why was your body so weird? But it didn't take long to think about it, because you couldn't hold the contents of your stomach in you anymore. You immediately run to the bathroom and throw up everything. Then you wipe your mouth and lean on the toilet seat. You didn't want any more, you were weak and hardly had any more strength. All of this made you so exhausted. Jealousy almost consumed you. What was wrong with you? You were now what you hated about Jaehyun. You hated it so much when he was jealous and now you're collapsing here because you didn't like him kissing another woman, that he was spending more time with this woman than with you and that she might be there last night too when Jaehyun had a drink with his coworkers. You pull your legs towards you and begin to cry bitterly. Your heart ached and you hate that side of you.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

#jaehyun #daddy jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imgaines #jaehyun angst #jaehyun jung #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #nct angst #nct 127 angst #nct u angst

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writtenonreceipts · 3 years

Text

ACOTAR, Feysand ~1.7 words, just a little thing for the holidays.

Home for the Holiday

A fire cackled happily in the hearth as Feyre moved around the living room of the house. She strung garland from the fireplace, keeping the ends from the sparks that fluttered out on occasion. Lining the mantle were stocking hooks and ceramic snowmen.

Leaning over one of the half empty plastic bins, Feyre pulled out a few cheap decorative pillows declaring Let it Snow! and Ho! Ho! Ho!

They were the same pillows from years past. Ones that should most certainly be tossed out and exchanged for new ones, but these were the first decorations her sisters and her had purchased after their parents died. And Feyre couldn’t bring herself to toss them out just yet. Besides, Nesta might kill her if she tried.

“Okay, the hot cocoa is ready!” Elain called out from the kitchen.

Feyre glanced over to see Elain poke her head around the corner. She wore a terrible disarray of mismatched pajamas combined with an apron that had reindeer prancing around on it.

“Thanks, Elain,” Feyre said, she smiled and turned back to the oil painting she had made last year of an angel.

“You want your usual peppermint?” Elain asked, her painfully kind smile alluding to something akin to pity.

“Sure,” Feyre said, if only to get Elain to stop making that face at her.

Elain disappeared and Feyre sighed heavily.

No matter what Feyre had tried the past few weeks, nothing seemed to put her in the mood for the holidays. No amount of baking, shopping, decorating, family time had made a difference.

All because her boyfriend couldn’t be there for the holiday. He’d recently accepted a job promotion, which was wonderful, but it required him to move out of Veleris and to Hybern. Once, Rhysand had sworn he would never leave Veleris, the city he loved so much, but Amarantha had made a far too appealing offer apparently.

Feyre took a deep breath. At least they’d managed to skype yesterday. It wasn’t the same of course. Christmas Eve without him was turning to be unbearable and Elain’s doe-eyed stare was not helping.

Maybe she should just go to bed.

“Merry Christmas!” Nesta called out. She entered the house with a loud bang, followed by a curse. “Hell. I might have broken Lucien’s present. Oh well.”

“Be nice!” Elain yelled. She rounded the corner with a giant mug that she handed to Feyre before going to help relieve Nesta of some of her many bags. “Geez, Nes. How much crap do you have.”

“Some of it’s Cassian and Azriel’s,” Nesta grumbled. She flipped her braid over one shoulder as she hurried the rest of the way into the house and dumped the bags on the couch. “They had something to take care of. Probably a prank. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cassian tried to stuff himself down the chimney.”

“Maybe he should,” Elain mused, “it might actually cheer Feyre up.”

“I’m fine,” Feyre insisted. She punctuated her words by taking a long sip of cocoa, whipping cream staining her upper lip. “We’ll skype all day tomorrow...when he’s not in a meeting.”

“Who does that woman think she is, not letting her employees have time off?” Nesta said. She pulled presents from the bags and began arranging them beneath the tree. “I mean I know we don’t really celebrate Christmas, but it’s a holiday. It’s family time.”

“He’s the project leader for this really important account,” Feyre sighed. “He loves his job.”

“He loves you more,” Nesta said.

The words were so sudden and unexpected that it took Feyre a moment to register them.

“What do you mean?” she asked her older sister.

Neta shrugged as she finished placing presents under the tree.

There was nothing else to say on the topic as Elain demanded a sister picture, followed by a heated discussion of which Christmas movies they watch first. It was barely eight o’clock, but they all seemed ready to delve into whatever tradition they could get their hands on. Or maybe it was just Elain and Nesta trying to distract Feyre from Rhysands absence.

While they were in the middle of one movie, Lucien arrived. He’d finished up his shift as a nurse in the ER earlier than expected.

“We’re just getting to the good part!” Elain told him as he came over to sit on the floor just in front of her. Despite there being plenty of space on the couch, he still was in the habit of avoiding being closer to Nesta then necessary.

“Where are the others?” Lucien asked. “There’s a storm coming in. It started snowing while I was on my way into the city.”

“What?” Nesta demanded sitting up straighter. She paused the movie and looked at Lucien. “It’s snowing?”

Feyre looked to the front window, where indeed, snow could be seen in the distant street lights. A white Christmas for certain.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Lucien was saying.

Nesta was having no part of that, however. She had her phone out in an instant and was calling Cassian.

“He knows how to drive in the snow, Nes,” Feyre said. Her sister held up a hand to silence her.

Rolling her eyes, Feyre stood and gathered empty mugs of hot chocolate to take to the kitchen. Apart from the tree and the small tea lights dangling over the kitchen counter, the house was dark. But not in the miserable sort of way. This was the kind of dark that exuded warmth and hope.

The fire had died down hours ago and was not smoldering, keeping the house toasty.

As she set the empty mugs in the sink, Feyre looked out the window just above and watched the snow falling in thick folds through the night. It made her all the more grateful for being inside right now, but she just couldn’t get over the seed of loneliness in her heart.

She couldn’t cry about it now or else Elain and Nesta would try and cheer her up and it would ruin their Christmas Eve. Rubbing a hand over her face, Feyre filled the empty mugs with water so they would be easier to clean.

Just then the front door burst open and Cassian’s booming laugh broke the silence.

“Merry Christmas!” He shouted.

In the living room, Feyre could hear feet pounding and knew Nesta was jumping up to engulf her boyfriend in a hug. She listened as boots were kicked off and Cassian made a loud noise of pain, likely in response to a punch from Nesta.

“Where have you guys been?” Elain asked.

Cassian didn’t respond. She heard when Azriel entered and took his sweet time to close the door behind him. She would need to put on a thicker pair of socks.

Making sure her eyes were clear, Feyre rounded the corner from the kitchen.

“Do you guys want some hot chocolate?” She asked and then stopped in her tracks.

Because not only were Cassian and Azriel there grinning like five-year-olds but a third person was there too.

Feyre slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, because there disheveled and jetlagged and still breathtakingly handsome was Rhysand.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

Unable to hold herself back, Feyre ran to him, flinging herself in his arms. He caught her easily and held her tightly against him. Tears leaked from Feyre’s eyes as she buried her nose in his neck. Despite the long three months apart--his touch, his scent, everything was so, so familiar.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, tears unabashedly slipping down her cheeks. “I thought you said you’d get fired if you came back.”

Rhysand cupped her face in his hands beaming down at her with his brilliant violet eyes.

“It’s hard to fire someone when they’ve already quit,” Rhysand said. He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged.

“You what?” Feyre gaped at him. “This is your dream job, Rhys.”

“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not really.”

Around them, their friends and family got distracted by other things to allow the couple time alone. Someone started the movie back up and a Christmas song was playing in the background.

Feyre fisted her hands in Rhysands jacket, unwilling to release him yet. She still couldn’t believe that he was here before her. Nor could she fully grasp what he was telling her.

“I couldn’t keep working there,” Rhysand said. “Not for her. Not in that place. Not so far from you.”

Feyre bit her bottom lip, shaking her head. “You love your job.”

Rhys’ response was automatic. “I love you more.”

No matter how often she heard them, the words still sent a thrill through her. She laughed lightly and looked away from him to where Azriel was stoking the fire and Cassian drew Nesta in his arms as they sat on the couch. Elain leaned her head on Lucien’s shoulder as she mouthed the words along to the movie that played in the background.

The house was full of love and family for the first time in a long time. Feyre had spent so long searching for these feelings of peace and comfort and now she had them. She didn’t want to do anything to alter them--to diminish them.

But she also couldn’t let Rhys walk away from his work.

“Rhys,” she began.

His warm hand slid to cup her chin, gently tugging it up. It took her a moment to meet his gaze. Mostly because she was, again, tearing up.

“Everything about that job was tearing us apart,” he said as he leaned his forehead against hers, “and I refuse to let that happen any more.”

Feyre surged forward and kissed him. There was so much they needed to figure out now. So much to talk about and plan. But for now, she was content to kiss him. Content to be with him, with her family.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Feyre darling,” he said.

And it was. It was a glorious night together with snow falling down outside, the fire roaring in the hearth, and they were all together.

.end.

thanks for reading!

tags: using my general tags

@tottenhamboys20 @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival

@my-fan-side @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#feysand #acotar #acowar #acofas #acomaf #the fanfic no one asked for continues #the fanfic no one asked for #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand

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uswnt-keeper · 3 years

Text

Holiday Surprise

Requested by: @mari-victoria-13

Prompt: can you write lindsey x reader celebrating the holidays w readers family??

This is my SECOND TIME posting this cuz it won’t show up in tags which is very annoying. I hope it does this time. Went a little off the prompt, but that’s what you get if you leave me with little to no detail 😂. Hope you enjoy! Also if anyone knows how to make the post shorter so it says “keep reading” rather than have a whole ass paragraph on my page, please let me know. Thanks, enjoy! 💜Also this is NOT proof read, sorry...

“Finally, the adults turn to open presents,” my brother, Owen, complained standing up from his position on the couch to go search through the presents.

“Hey, you decided to have two cute kids,” I retorted as his wife laughed across from Lindsey and I.

It was Christmas of course and usually it was the cheeriest time of the year, and it still was, but this year I was nervous, very nervous. I had a plan, in fact a very elaborate one to propose to my girlfriend of 4 years, Lindsey.

Lindsey has been a shining light in my life since I met her all of those year ago. I remember being 16 when she was 18, hearing she went pro out of high school. I didn’t know it at the time, but we’d end up meeting for the first time four year later when I was 20. I got my first national team call up and we became attached at the hip. Of course, she had solid relationships with Tobin and Sonnett which 100% threw me off at first, especially because I thought Sonny and Linds were together. But after sometime, she expressed interest, and my oblivious brain didn’t read it right. I didn’t realize what was happening until I got shovel talk by the entire team, I was 21 by then, and confused as hell.

When I finally figure out what the hell they were talking about, it was clear I had no solid plan to ask Lindsey out, and so it became a game of what if’s, the whole team giving me ideas of what to do. I got so overwhelmed by the ideas and what could go wrong that when Lindsey walked in I just asked her... mostly by accident, and since that day we’ve been together.

Yeah, we’ve had some arguments and fights, like any normal relationship does, but we never go to bed angry at one another. We’ve helped each other through a lot, everything really. When my dad passed away 3 years ago, she was there, she lost the championship, I was there. Now, I want to promise her that I’ll be there forever, until death do us part and I can only hope she’ll agree.

We all stacked the presents in front of us which were ours and started to open them, collecting things of course from everyone. I got a nice watch, some jewelry, but I was most excited to see Lindsey’s reaction to the final gift.

“That’s it,” Lindsey said looking around at everyone’s wrapping paper on the floor, of course, everyone was in on this proposal except for Lindsey, I had something extravagant planned, and it would take a few days.

“No, there’s one last thing for you babe,” I said looking at her.

“Where? I don’t see it,” she looked around, unable to find it until she looked at me, holding a small box, wrapped in white and gold, “You’re sneaky, what is it?” She chuckled and I smiled.

“Open it,” I told her, she did, and found a small necklace in there, she seemed shocked, eventually finding the engraving on the back of important dates for us. When we met, our first kiss, when we both moved in together, etc.

“This is beautiful,” she said with a well of tears as she hugged me and I pecked her lips.

“There’s something else in there love,” I said, putting the necklace around her neck as she looked back in the box.

I watch on as she read it, everyone watching the exchange as I gave them a cheeky grin, “An I Owe You?” Lindsey asked and I nodded to the paper again as she started to read it, “Okay, ‘Mrs Lindsey Michelle Horan, I owe you a little trip up to the Delicate Arch’...” she looked at me with a confused face before looking at the paper again, “Oh, ‘You’re final present will be there, ready to pick up on December 31st’ New Years?” I nodded.

“Yep, I got one final thing for you, but it won’t be ready for some time,” I said, “Sorry, I really couldn’t get it in until later,” I smiled.

Obviously that was a complete lie, I had to organize everyone to be on the arch for New Years, which was hard convincing for some as it was gonna be cold. But the New Years fireworks would be perfect to help me out with this proposal, and it would be expensive, but totally worth it. Yeah, I had to get the whole team to fly out here, and Lindsey’s family who were fully on board, and get them up to the arch in time, literally just in time, for the fireworks.

It was a precarious plan, but I felt good about it.

“I have to wait for it?”

I nodded and she groaned, making the room laugh.

“I hate waiting,” she sighed and I chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“I know love, but I promise this is going to be the best present you’ve ever gotten... or at least I hope so.”

It was her time to kiss my cheek now, “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

The days passed by rather quickly, almost so quickly that I wasn’t ready when New Years rolled around. We’d spent a lot of time together, baking cookies with my family, splaying with my twin nephews, and honestly walking around Utah. A lot of that time was spent distracting Lindsey, and Im sure she got suspicious when I left her with my mom for a full day to make sure everything was in place. That was yesterday, December 30th, and that was also the day I picked up the ring.

When I got home that night, I didn’t think Lindsey was too happy with me. I’d gotten home and instead of greeting them rushed upstairs to my moms room where I knew the ring would be safely hidden. I felt bad though, as I’d literally been gone all day preparing, only coming hope around 10:30pm, to a grumpy looking Lindsey and my sleeping mother on the couch.

“Hey,” I said nervously and Lindsey gave me a look as if to tell me to meet her upstairs as she walked off, I sighed, waking my mom up.

“Huh what?” My mom always woke up startled, she always had since my dad died.

“You fell asleep,” I said, “Come on I think its bed time.”

“Where’s Lindsey?”

“Upstairs waiting for me so she can be angry I was gone all day,” I said with a small smile, my mom looked at me concerned, but so waved it off, “She’ll be happy when she get my present tomorrow.”

My mother smiled, “I’m so excited for it Y/N, you’re gonna do great,” She smiled and kissed my cheek as I helped her up. We walked upstairs together in silence, turning off the lights as we went, and I waved her goodbye when she went to her room and I went to mine.

When I walked in the bedroom, Lindsey was there, on the bed, looking at me with a stern face, looking down to her phone when I caught her eyes.

“Hey baby,” I said a little nervous, “You want to brush your teeth with me?”

“I already got ready for bed,” she replied, looking to her phone for a distraction and I sighed, going to get ready on my own.

When I did finally finish getting ready, it was already almost 11, and I slipped into bed next to Lindsey as she had turned away from me, I didn’t like the feeling, we’d always talked about our issues before bed.

“Linds.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, softly placing my hand on her shoulder, she turned over and I couldn’t help but smile as her drowsy looking face, “I had to go out.”

“And leave me all day?” She pouted, “You’re mom is lovely, don’t get me wrong, I just missed you,” she sighed, turning fully to cuddle into my chest as we got comfortable, I wrapped my arms around her.

“If it’s any consolation, I did it because I needed to make sure your present for tomorrow was perfect, it has to be.”

She opened her eyes to look at me with her icy blues, “That’s what this is all about?” She had a slight smirk on her face and I nodded.

“Trust me, it has to be great.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, “I’m sorry for being mad, I really did just miss you.”

I chuckled, “I missed you too,” I said, a long pause after that before I said, “I could spent the rest of my life with you... like this.”

I could feel her smile against my chest, “I could too.”

And with that, we fell asleep.

timeskip

The next morning had anxiety written all over it, I was nervous and scattered, but pulled myself together in the morning. We laid in of course until around 10, everyone getting out of the house before we got up as planned.

My mother would take the ring up to the mountain so I wouldn’t be caught with it. I got up first, leaving Lindsey to sleep a little longer, I went downstairs and made breakfast, avocado toast, eggs, coffee, her favorite.

“Whats all this?” I looked up to find Lindsey, already gotten ready for the day, standing at the bottom of the stairs, “Where is everyone?”

“Part of the gift,” I said, as she sat down at the dining table, “They all wanted to go shopping apparently and I didn’t want to get you up.”

“Thanks baby,” she said, pecking my lips before we did go to our food.

After breakfast Lindsey cleaned up while I got ready. When I came downstairs, I was excited to start dragging Lindsey into the day, almost overly excited.

“You ready?” I asked.

“For what?” She laughed as she looked up from her phone, her dazzling smile and cute laugh almost making me pass out completely.

“You really are so beautiful you know,” I said dopy, as she stood up, I pulled her into a tight hug, and she pulled back, scattering kisses on my face that made me laugh.

“Stop, it tickles!” I giggled and she laughed again as we embraced, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said head on my shoulder, “So... what are we doing today? This is the ist I’ve seen you plan for anything.”

“I know,” I laughed, “All you have to do is follow,” I smiled.

“Oh god,” she laughed, “Is this gonna be a mess?”

“I hope not,” I smiled, pulling her to the front door, “Now come on, let’s go!”

Our first stop was the ice rink at the mall, I hated ice skating, but Lindsey was a Colorado native who adored these winter sports. I didn’t want to rent the whole rink because I felt like that’d give the proposal away, and anyway, it was a good excuse to get to the next activity when it got crowded.

We skated for at least an hour and a half, and I never got use to it, fumbling and falling over my own feet as Lindsey skated right by, laughing as she watched me absolutely bomb.

“Okay, as much as I love skating, I love you more and cannot watch you face plant on the ice anymore,” she laughed as she hoisted me up from the ground.

“Thank god,” I mumbled as we got off the ice, thanking the front desk before leaving.

“What next muestro,” she asked and I chuckled.

“You’ll see,” I replied.

Our next stop was the Red Butte Garden, a beautiful garden with many types of evergreens and flowers, mostly inside greenhouses due to the cold weather. But it was beautiful, and after buying some hot chocolate, we were able to spent hours in there looking around. I found ways to sneak around a bit, going to the bathroom at one point just to check everyone was almost in place.

Lindsey and I spent hours in that garden, something she just adored. After that we went to go get churros before heading home to watch a movie or two before we’d head to the mountain trail.

By the time the second movie was over, I stood up, “One last thing babe.”

“It’s almost midnight, what else could you possibly have?” She asked with a laugh.

“I know your tired, but I need you to get on some really warm clothes and then put this blindfold on.

“A blindfold?” She asked as I tossed it at her, “That’s a little weird,” she smirked and I rolled my eyes.

“We’re going out Linds, don’t get any ideas, trust me okay.”

She sighed, “I’m tired, but now I’m interested, I’ll bite.”

“Okay, it’s literally a two minute walk, just trust me okay,” I said.

“I’ve been doing that up to this point so I might as well,” she laughed and I kissed her cheek, holding her hand as I guided her up the mountain, it was perfect, 10 to 12.

I was so happy to see the whole team on the mountain, both Lindsey’s family and mine standing there too in coats and warm clothing.

“You warm enough babe?” I asked as we got to the top, me waving at everyone with a huge smile, this was successful as far as I was concerned.

“Yeah, can I take it off now?” She asked.

“Yeah go ahead,” I said, and she did, of course she was facing the arch looming out to the moonlight.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “This is beautiful,” she said.

“Turn around,” I said next to her.

“Hmmm?” She asked confused.

“Look behind you,” I whispered, she did, gasping.

“OH MY GOD,” she yelled and everyone laughed.

She kissed my lips before running around to greet everyone, we managed to get around everyone until Ashlyn stood on a rock to count us down to midnight. We all had champagne in our hands, ready for the new year.

I stood there with Lindsey, my mother passing behind my back and dripping the ring in my back pocket. We looked out from the arch towards the night sky.

“3...2...1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!” We yelled, I pulled Lindsey in for a kiss, the fireworks sparking just at the right moment and as we pulled apart she smiled, I leaned in close.

“Look at the fireworks,” I said, backing up behind her and finally being able to do what I’d planned for weeks.

“Will,” she read with the first boom, cameras clicking and recording, “You,” she read next, still not getting it until the last boom, “marry me.”

“Linds,” I said and she spun around, eyes wide as she clasped her hand over her mouth in shock, “Lindsey Michelle Horan. Ive been with you for four years and in that time I’ve realized that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, through thick and thin, good times and bad. I want to watch us grow, I want to be with you and only you. And so now I’m asking, if you, Lindsey, will marry me?”

I looked at her waiting, and through tears and a gasps she managed to respond, “Yes,” she replied, coming over as I slipped the ring on her finger, standing up and wrapping her in a hug, pushing our lips together amongst the wolf whistles and cheers.

“This was the present?” She asked wiping tears away and I nodded, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I smiled, tearing up myself.

“And you were all in on this?!” She yelled at them, gaining laughs from them as they nodded.

“Nice holiday surprise then huh?” I asked.

“The best,” she smiled.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #lindsey horan

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twooneztaylorthecat · 3 years

Text

When Nobody's Around - Adam Stanheight / Reader

A/N. There was a clip of the song 'Better' by Khalid on TikTok, and that inspired this story. Anyway, continue.

It was dark in the area, December twenty-fourth. The wind howled loudly as it whipped through the tree branches and sent snow spraying everywhere. The air was freezing cold, and the ground was icy. Even snow boots couldn't dull the slip from anyone who tried to walk on it. It was difficult not to tense up against the chill, or even not to zip up the jacket around one's shoulders, but no matter what you did you just couldn't get warm. You kept your head bent and plowed on through the snow. The coffee in your Starbucks cup made your palms hot, but you liked it that way; you didn't like the cold anyway. Adam Stanheight was following closely behind you, along with your best friend. You guys had a mixed friendship, or so it seemed. You knew what you had with your bff, you didn't need to question it. But your relationship with Adam was quite another thing entirely, it dissatisfied you, dismayed you. Often times he'd play off his flirting to be nothing more than jokes, and it hurt you a little. His mixed signals were confusing you. You clutched your tote bag closer and sped up your speed. Getting home was your biggest priority right now; you felt so flustered being around Adam. It made your heart beat faster and your stomach swim chaotically.

In your head you knew there was something there, or at least you wished there was, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling it. You rounded the corner very urgently. You were in the lead, Adam and your friend had been talking earlier about politics, you didn't want to discuss that. But unfortunately for you, your friend called out to you. "What's your opinion?"

You, who had not been listening, turned around slowly and looked at them dumbly. You could not remember what they had been talking about before. "I wasn't paying attention," you admitted.

"Oh, come on. I was asking-"

"-No, no," you interrupted. "Right now I have other things to worry about than what side of the political spectrum you are on. I'd like to keep our friendship strong before Christmas, then we can ruin it."

"Fine. Then at least tell me this. What side of the 'romantic relationship' are you on? You know, with..." Your bff elbowed Adam in the ribs.

Adam made a face. " 'Romantic relationship'?" He repeated skeptically. "What the fuck are you on about?"

You turned back around and started to cross the street, your heart heavy. The light, which was blurred by the snowy fog, changed red suddenly, and you were pulled back by a strong force. It wasn't like you could have saved yourself, but you did appreciate the thoughtfulness. Not to mention, there weren't any moving vehicles out right now to plow you over, so it didn't really matter. "Thanks," you mumbled, and pulled your arm out of their grasp, you expected it to be your friend.

"Hey. Where are you going?" The voice sounded right behind you. It was quiet and soothing; it sent chills up your spine; like it always did. Apparently the political conversation was over now.

"A-Adam..." you gasped. "I... wasn't expecting you to be there."

"No?" Adam pressed up against your side. "You seem cold. Mind if I warm you up?"

You gagged, feeling embarrassed, and tried to get away, but Adam held you close. "Where are you going?" He asked again.

Your best friend came up to you. "Yeah. No romantic relationship here. What's up love-birds?"

Adam released you. "Tch," he scoffed. "What are you talking about? We're just friends. Can't I care for my friends?"

You stared at him miserably. "Christmas at my house?" You asked, changing the subject.

Your friends looked at you cluelessly. "Oh sure," your bff agreed. "I won't have to rearrange any plans if we go to your house."

"You live in the same place," you muttered.

"That's the point..." your friend grimaced.

Adam had fallen behind you both while you discussed this. He seemed quiet now, and lost in thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. You wished he was talking with you again. You wished he would try snuggling again.

The discussion wasn't a long one, and it ended right as you reached the other side of the road. "So, Adam," you hummed out quietly. "You need anyone to help with baking? I know you said you would like it if someone came over tomorrow morning."

"Only one someone..." Adam winked at you, and laughed. "In all honesty, I just want the company. It gets lonely over there."

"So... No baking?"

"What would you guys be baking?" (Bff's name) asked. "Not like Adam is having anyone over. Not like he CAN. Everyone would be falling on their asses."

Adam muttered something under his breath, then spoke up, "No, you're right. I... will do the baking myself." He chuckled. "That is, if I stop taking pictures of it first."

"You're not planning on doing any baking, are you?" You realized.

"I... was? Actually."

"Pffft." Your best friend sounded dubious.

You yourself were a little doubtful too, but you had the sense to shut up about it. You blew out a breath, which made your bangs fly into the air.

"You look kinda cute when you do that," Adam commented and held your hand lightly.

You blushed, waiting for his infamous 'jk' or stupid reasoning as to why he was 'pretending to flirt' with you, but it never came. You exchanged glances with you friend, but alas Adam caught it, and let go. "I should really stop doing that, shouldn't I?"

You huffed. "I... like it..." You said inaudibly.

Adam had heard you, but he chose not to respond. He started talking about the snow instead.

Fuck, you thought.

Faulkner walked you both to your condo, and held the door open. You were the first inside, but didn't get too far. Adam called you back as your best friend stalked past you to the stairs. You fell back and leaned against him. What was going to happen now? Adam got all cozy with you when you guys were alone, and now that your friend had left, you wondered what was going to happen. "Hey, Y/N?" He looked directly into your eyes. He never flinched or gazed away, but his body language said he was nervous.

You felt obliged to ease his stress. "Yeah? Are you cold, why don't you come in for a minute and warm up?"

"No," Adam said boldly. "I... just wanted to..." He looked away finally. Your heart nearly stopped in anticipation. "Well, you see... I've been thinking about this for a while. Ever since October."

You stared at him silently, hoping he wasn't psyching you up just to joke with you again. "What is it?" You asked in irritation. "Are you playing with me again?"

"What do you mean by that?" Adam didn't seem to understand that you were referring to his 'fake flirting.' Honestly, sometimes you thought that he was completely unaware that he did it. Or maybe he simply pretended to be innocent?

"I'm not kidding around right now, I'm being serious. Here's the deal. I-I wanted Christmas at my place, if that's alright with you. I don't mind if you bring

(Bff's name,) But... Yeah."

Your stomach felt hollow after hearing that. Whatever you had been expecting was entirely not up for debate. You were simply 'friend-zoned', at least it felt like it. You thought about his words for a short moment, then stared at him questioningly. "Will your apartment be clean enough?" It was a joke, but not really. Adam was notorious for have a messy living quarters.

"Haha," Adam said sarcastically. "I cleaned it yesterday... well enough, that is..."

You nodded halfheartedly, still feeling disappointed. "Sure. I'll tell (Bff's name,) the change of plans."

"Yeah," Adam agreed.

It was awkward after that. Adam stayed in the doorway, and you kept the door open. Neither of you knew what to say after that, but you didn't have the heart to close the door and leave him there. It was so intense that you could feel heat rising to face in the cold forty degree (Fahrenheit) weather. Snow was starting to fill up the inside. "I guess you should go?" You didn't want to be rude, but asking it instead of saying it didn't help the bluntness of the sentence.

"Um..." Adam shrugged. "I was wondering something else..."

You looked at Adam in disbelief. In the fifteen minutes standing in the cold, he didn't think to bring this up? "Well, alright then. Any time would be... perfect." You noticed for the first time, how fidgety he had become. You'd never seen him like that before. Something else was on his mind, you knew him well enough to know that. "Go on," you encouraged.

"Why don't you come to my place for the night?" Adam asked unexpectedly. He got straight to the point, you liked that. He added clumsily, "Unless... Uh, you're busy... in the morning? I understand, you know. Of course I understand. Um... Y-Yeah, I just- I wanted to make sure you knew the invitation was there."

You smiled shyly. Having Adam stumbled over his words was a little bit cute. And then you realized what he had actually asked you. Wait a minute!? This couldn't be real! Stay the night with Adam Faulkner Stanheight!? Who could turn THAT down? Not Y/N. Definitely not Y/N. "Okay," you agreed politely, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You ran your hands over your clothes quickly, trying to smooth them out. But Adam didn't care about the wrinkles in your shirt, he just wanted you with him. He pulled you outside again, the chill biting you immediately. You huddled up next to him, trying to get warm.

Maybe this time it would be different? Maybe he'd snuggle with you?

But Adam was not as observant to his surroundings. He led you to his car, which was parked beside the road.

"What's with the car, Adam? We live close enough, you know," you joked.

Your companion only scowled at you as he snapped, "I was at a client's house when you called. And I decided not to leave the car here on the way home."

You sat down in the passenger's seat happily. Adam, of course, took the driver's seat, and as he started up the car the radio blasted you guys unexpectedly, hollowing out each one of your ears. Instead of turning it off, Adam just turned it down. He seemed much more laid back now that it was just the two of you.

In the silence, however, you were able to pick up what song was currently playing. It was Better by Khalid, and this surprised you. You didn't usually listen to this artist very much, but the radio seemed to love playing this song in particular. You hadn't been expecting it to come on while you were in Adam's car though.

Due to the quietness you could hear the words now. You'd never really listened to them before, but now that you could hear them, you felt suspicious.

"Say we're just friends, but I swear, when nobody's around. You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now?-"

Adam rolled down a window suddenly, cutting off the next part.

You raised an eyebrow, thinking to yourself. Why the hell am I relating to this song so much? No wait, an even better question is, why would it come on the radio when I'm in the car with Adam? It doesn't add up right.

Almost instinctually, you asked, "D-Did you do this on purpose?" You hadn't meant to blurt it out. In fact you usually were pretty good about thinking about what you were going to say or do before actually performing it. This was a rare scenario.

Humiliation engulfed you as soon as the words left your mouth. You rolled your window down hurriedly, trying to act like you hadn't spoken. It was all for naught.

"What?" Adam asked dully.

"I-uh..." you stammered for a minute, then quickly regained yourself. "Yeah. I was just wondering if you chose the song, or if it was the radio?"

"Why would I have chosen it?" Adam sounded confused. "There would be no reason for me to choose it."

"oh... You're right..." You stared out the window and let the wind blow into your face. It was cold but you didn't say it out loud. You did wonder though, how Stanheight managed to live through it. It was so cold it felt like it was burning your skin off. You closed the window again.

Adam pulled to a stop in front of his apartment. "Don't mind the neighbors," he warned. "They don't like newcomers."

"I know. We've had this discussion before."

"I know," Adam said regretfully. "But... I just... like to remind you."

As you both shuffled into Adam's apartment, you gazed at the floor. He told you he'd cleaned up yesterday, and it showed. The normal empty boxes, or bits of laundry, had been taken care of, as well as the large stacks of photographs laying around the place. Adam was nothing if not passionate about his job, and that made you happy. It still amazed you to be able to see the wooden floor beneath your feet, and you desperately tried not to notice the counter, on top of which was an ashtray, which was piled with cigarette ends. The scent of cigarette smoke was thick, definitely fresh, but... you didn't mind it really.

Well, that was a lie. You did mind it, a lot. But that was the thing, that smell reminded you of Adam, so... you didn't mind it THAT much. Come to think of it, having the scent of smoke remind you of someone was probably not a good thing. Not for you or Adam. In fact, Adam probably had it worse. Imagine hearing someone say that the scent of smoke reminded them of you. That didn't seem like a positive thing to hear.

You shuddered at the thought.

"Come sit down over here," Adam said from the couch. "Sorry about the... Everything... I did try to keep the windows open but... it was way too damn cold. And I guess I couldn't stop... If you know what I mean?"

You did. You could understand completely.

Gently, you sat next to Adam, crossing your legs over each other delicately. It was warm in here, or was it Adam's body heat? You were sitting so close to him it was hard to tell. "I'm glad you came over," he said nervously. "You know... It's kinda stupid, but I only said I wanted your help with baking 'cause I didn't know how to invite you."

You smiled at him. "That's sweet. I would have done the same thing," you reassured Adam.

Adam slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders. In a low tone, he said, "I didn't get you anything for Christmas. I'm sorry, I... Well, I mostly didn't know what kind of things you liked and didn't like."

"It's okay," you said. "I wasn't planning on having Christmas here until my parents' flight got canceled."

"So, you didn't get me anything either?" Adam's voice held some relief.

"Well, no," you tried to disappoint gently. You knew how it felt when you realized you weren't the only one who had done something a certain way. It was very reassuring. Maybe a bit too reassuring. You didn't want to crush his bubble so violently, but there wasn't any way to say it softly. At least, not one that came to mind. "I actually did think of something."

"Oh?" Adam didn't seem bothered, that was good. "What is it?"

You scoffed. "Like I'd tell you. You have to wait."

You had baked everyone some cookies this morning. That's what you were going to give your friends for Christmas. It was the first thing that came to your mind last second.

Adam leaned away from you hesitantly. "Well, there might be something that I thought of, too, but... I don't know... I guess I got scared..." He glanced at a nearby clock, and shrugged. "Is one fifteen AM close enough to Christmas?"

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I'd say, at least six AM."

"Fuck that," Adam exclaimed. "I... don't think I can wait any longer." He laughed nervously. It lasted for so long that you started to wonder if you had missed the joke.

"I'm sorry," you sighed. "I don't think... I follow."

Adam stared at the floor. "No, I'm sorry, that was unnecessary. I just got... scared?"

You narrowed your eyebrows sympathetically. "What is it, Adam?"

"Well... Will you be my significant other? The time we spend together means a lot, not to mention I enjoy your company a lot, too. Our dates have been nice... I know I should have asked you long ago, but... I don't know... I couldn't get up the courage..."

You smiled, but it was only out of uncomfortableness rather than actual happiness. You had no idea if he was playing with you or being honest with you. "Uh... Heh. You're joking, aren't you?"

"No," Adam gasped. He looked flabbergasted. "Why... What makes you ask that? I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Oh, right, you thought dryly. Just everything else about our relationship.

Out loud you said quickly, "Nothing." You regretted doubting yourself. It just made this situation very embarrassing. You felt the need to clarify your answer now. You didn't want to leave Adam hanging after such a significant question. "Well, Adam. The answer to your question is yes! I thought you were never gonna ask me. Well, actually, I thought you were bullshitting me the entire time."

"I didn't go about it the right way," Adam admitted. "That's my fault." He pulled you down so that your head was on his lap, and started to comb his fingers through your hair. "Merry Christmas, Y/N," he murmured. "That's my gift to you."

You inhaled deeply, feeling a strong wave of affection flood you. You had no idea anyone could feel so much emotion at once. It awed you. Gazing at the ceiling you felt your heart swell up. It beat in your chest heavily, loudly, nervously, but you felt soothed at the same time. And in this exact moment, you had good feelings. Maybe it was too soon to tell, however something in your gut told you that you were going to have a long, successful, future with Adam. "Wow," you hummed out quietly. "Christmas is going to be a hell-of-a-lot different this year." Adam didn't stop brushing your hair. You yawned and smiled. "But I can't wait for it."

#adam faulkner stanheight #saw movies #saw franchise #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #christmas #december

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inawickedlittletown · 3 years

Text

Baked With Love (Destiel fic) - 3/5

Summary: Dean never met Lisa’s neighbor, but he knew one thing: whoever it was, they could bake. After breaking up with Lisa, the one thing Dean misses is her neighbor’s pie. After finally meeting him, Cas’ pie is not the only thing Dean likes.

On Ao3

Part one

Part two

Dean ran into Lisa the very next day when he was getting out of the Impala in front of Castiel’s house.

“I see you finally called Cas,” she said. “He made you pie, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Dean said. “Just as delicious as I remembered it.”

“Oh. I figured you were here to pick it up,” Lisa said with a frown. “You can’t bully him into being your personal baker. I know he’s a nice guy, but don’t take advantage of my neighbor.”

“No, I’m kinda paying him back. Doing him a favor. He has a few loose steps in his backyard. I noticed them yesterday when I was here and I offered to fix them.”

Lisa’s smile returned. “He wouldn’t take your money.”

“No. He wouldn’t,” Dean said and left it at that.

It was better than to admit that Dean would have wanted to do this for Cas even if Cas had taken payment for the pie.

Lisa excused herself as Dean got into his trunk to grab his tools. He was hoping that the planks wouldn’t need to be replaced entirely, but wouldn’t know yet until he got a closer look. When he was sure he had everything he walked up to Castiel’s house.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said when he opened the door.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel kept him company out in the yard. He busied himself with the garden, but wandered over to see how Dean was doing every once in a while, offering to get Dean anything he might need. It was nice.

Cas hummed and he talked to his plants. He spent a long time checking on all of his plants, attentive in a way that Dean had never known anyone to be with plants.

The wood planks were not in a horrible state. Dean figured that eventually they would need to be replaced, but they weren’t there yet. So, instead he made work of getting all of Cas’ steps to have better attachments to the supports. It was quick work, but he kept getting distracted by watching Cas.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean called over when he was on the last step.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Want to get lunch after this?”

Castiel nodded with a big smile. “That’d be great.”

—

“Let me get this straight,” Sam said. “Well, I guess not straight.”

“Sammy.”

“You befriended Lisa’s baker neighbor because you missed his pies and then somehow you’re fixing up things around this guy’s house and you’re taking him out to look at possible locations for a bakery this weekend.”

Dean should have known better than to tell Sam about Castiel, but he was just so used to telling Sam everything that it had spilled out. He could feel Sam’s judgement.

“Sam, we’re friends now. Cas is a cool guy. You’d like him.”

Sam gave him the kind of knowing look that Dean was practiced at ignoring.

“Dean, you just broke up with Lisa a couple of months ago and this guy lives right next door to her. Isn’t it a little—”

“We’re friends, Sam,” Dean said.

Not that Dean wouldn’t have minded if it turned into more, but for the moment he and Castiel were just friends.

“How’s work?” Dean asked.

“You’re changing the subject, but fine. Work is great,” Sam said.

At the end of the night Sam shouted: “have fun tomorrow with your new boyfriend!”

Dean turned. “Not my boyfriend.”

“But you want him to be,” Sam said.

Dean didn’t respond. He did kinda hope that his friendship with Cas would develop into more, but it was something he was keeping close to the chest for the moment even if to his brother he would always be obvious.

—

Dean had fully expected the first hurdle to be getting the financials in place. But Cas already had the money. It made everything easier.

Apparently, Castiel’s grandfather had been very well off. So well off that when he died, he left a sizable amount of money to his favorite grandchild.

“He was a writer,” Castiel told Dean. “You’ve probably heard of him, actually. Carver Edlund.”

Dean absolutely did know Carver Edlund. So, his silence at the reveal made Castiel chuckle.

“You’re a fan, then?”

“Yeah, Cas. I’m a fan.”

Dean hadn’t been a reader like Sam was a reader, but that didn’t mean that Dean hadn’t read anything and Carver Edlund had written books in many different genres — it was what had made him so popular — but he’d also written a series of books about two brothers who travelled the world hunting ghosts and other supernatural beings and Dean had been obsessed with them for a long time.

“Well, my grandfather did well for himself and when he passed and he left me all that money, I knew what I would do with it,” Castiel said. “And when it didn’t work out when Balt and I were — well, I just never touched it.”

The money had been sitting in the bank for years. It gave Cas options.

So, a week after meeting Castiel for the first time, Dean was once more back at his house, but this time instead of getting out of the car and knocking on his door, it was Cas that gave his car a gentle rap. Dean unlocked the door at once and Cas got in.

“Hi, Dean,” Cas said, all smiles. “I brought something for you.”

It was a honey crumb muffin and it looked delicious.

“Cas, you didn’t have to,” Dean said at once.

“I know. I wanted to.”

Dean imagined that looking for a place to open a bakery shouldn’t have been fun. Somehow, it was. They looked at places up for rent and a few that were for sale. Cas didn’t like most of them and Dean found issues with others. There was not one that either of them actually liked.

“What if we can’t find a place,” Cas said after a while.

“Then we keep looking,” Dean said. “Where did you originally have in mind the first time around?”

“That place where someone opened that hardware store,” Cas said.

Dean could admit that it definitely would have made for a good location.

It did take them a few trips before they found the right place. Dean didn’t tell Cas right away that Singer Auto was only a few blocks away, but he was glad for the fact. It was on a corner and only a couple of blocks away from Singer Auto. It had been formerly a dog grooming place, and before that a pizza restaurant, and before that a dry cleaner, but none of those businesses had taken off.

“And why do you even think mine will?” Cas had asked.

“Because the grooming place was by appointment only and expensive as all hell. Because the owners of the pizza place were laundering money and serving what amounted to baked frozen pizza. Because the dry cleaner wasn’t very good. Trust me, Cas, one taste of anything you bake and you’ll have customers for life.”

Castiel put an offer in through a realtor the next day. It had been a month since Dean had met Cas, but it felt like he’d known him far longer. Sam pointed out that that was probably because Dean spent most of his free time with Castiel and Dean couldn’t actually deny that.

Dean was actually over at Cas’ house on a Friday afternoon when Cas got the call that his offer had been accepted. Dean insisted on getting a bottle of champagne to celebrate even though it meant that he had to drive to the nearest liquor store to pick it up first because Cas just didn’t have any on hand. Castiel’s smile didn’t fade from his lips for the rest of the night. He told Dean all of his ideas. How he wanted to set up the kitchen and the display counters and the kind of mixers and ovens that he’d been researching.

“It’s really happening,” Cas said eventually, looking at Dean with wide surprised eyes.

“I told you it would,” Dean said and nudged his shoulder.

Cas turned so that he was facing Dean, the space between them practically nonexistent. “This is only happening because of you,” Cas informed him before wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders.

Dean hugged him back at once, his arms wrapping around Cas to rest at his back and he never wanted to let go. Castiel had an earthy smell to him, but something flowery too in his hair. He felt amazing in Dean’s arms and they stayed that way in that hug for longer than was socially normal.

When they pulled away, Cas’ cheeks were pink, but his smile still hadn’t left his lips.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Does that thank you include another pie?” Dean asked.

Castiel chuckled. “Sure. I will bake you anything anytime anywhere.”

“Will you marry me?” Dean asked. It was a joke and yet as the words hung in the air between them, Dean knew with certainty that he had never before felt about anything, that one day he would ask that same question without any irony at all.

—

The thing about Castiel was that for all the time that Dean spent with him, he couldn’t figure out if Cas did want their friendship to be more. Sometimes, it felt like he did. Other times, it felt like Cas saw him as a friend and nothing more and Dean didn’t want to push it. So, he tried to flirt a little and he spent so much time with Castiel, that Sam began to feel a bit neglected, and yet Castiel never indicated that he felt anything more for Dean outside of how his cheeks would get pink whenever Dean flirted with him.

Somehow, Dean had begun spending every single Friday with Cas. Watching him bake, and helping him clean up all the meanwhile discussing Castiel’s plans for the bakery. He even started driving Cas to drop off baked goods at the shelters and soup kitchens on Saturdays and then they would go out to get brunch. Early on, those Saturdays had also involved Dean fixing things in Cas’ house for him. Once the remodel at the bakery started, Dean joined him there where he could to see how the work was coming along and after a few weeks, Dean started to see Cas’ vision. The large work space in the back with gleaming countertops, the huge industrial ovens, and the giant mixers.

The front came together slower, but just a few months after the remodel started it was all complete. The last thing to go up was the sign outside that read Angel Bakes complete with a halo floating over the A.

“Why Angel Bakes?” Dean asked after the sign was up and he and Cas stood outside looking up at it.

“My name,” Cas said simply. “My mom named me after the Angel of Thursday.”

“Was she very religious?” Dean asked.

Castiel laughed. “No, actually. But I was born on a Thursday and throughout the pregnancy she was sure I’d be a girl and that she would name me Wednesday.”

“Like the Adam’s Family?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe,” Castiel said with the confused tilt of his head that meant he didn’t understand what Dean was talking about.

Cas, as Dean had come to learn, was brilliant if a bit behind on pop culture. There were few movies that Cas had actually seen and fewer tv shows. Things went over his head all the time and Dean had started — albeit slowly — giving Castiel a sort of education. He’d all but demanded that Cas have a movie night with him a few weeks earlier entirely so that Dean could put on A New Hope and transform Castiel into a Star Wars fan. He was pleased when Cas actually did enjoy the movie.

“Anyway, I thwarted her plans by being a boy and being born on a Thursday. Dad always said it was the meds that made her loopy.”

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse than being named after my grandmother,” Dean said with a grin.

They stood side by side and looked at the sign and Dean couldn’t help the feeling of pride that filled him because he had known Cas for a few months and yet even from the first night, it had been easy to tell that Castiel didn’t feel confident enough to go for it. But a few nudges had been enough to make him decide that yes, he could do it.

Part Four

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas fic #deancas #supernatural fic #my fic #baked with love fic

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1010ll · 3 years

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do you have any new recipes that you've learned recently? i remember you wrote something a while ago about carbonara and i tried it out for myself it was really fun!!

i love this 😭 im gonna write way too much idec! something that has changed since that post: my kitchen is worse. i have a horrible combi oven which has resulted in me accidentally eating raw chicken, because it had been in there for more than 2 hours at supposedly 230 °C and i was really hungry and thought it HAD to be done by then. also i have less time and less money lol. it has made me a bit sad, and less motivated to cook nice things but i also love food! which means these tips/recipes are gonna reflect that and might seem a bit dull but probably also relatable for a lot of people. i’ve definitely made spaghetti carbonara a bit too much because it’s simple and require few ingredients! will still vouch for that one tip about substituting the bacon with roasted veggies and other types of meat.

last week i made risotto for the very first time, i think? which means i might be assuming a bit too much, but i think it’s a great dish that you can almost make with whatever you have in your fridge. i made it with roasted beetroot(needs A LOT of time to soften, lesson learned), carrots and parsley root or parsnip(idk the difference), dried rosemary and thyme, garlic and onion. i had some leftover sushi rice, which is great for risotto apparently(love versatile ingredients), roasted them in some oil and then added white wine and chicken stock and actually added a leftover parmesan rind i had in the fridge to give the ‘stock’ some flavour, a bit of nutmeg and then in the end some shredded gouda lol… it was surprisingly delicious and i didn’t even really care to cook the rice perfectly. it also tasted delicious 3 days later, which was a nice surprise. i bet there are tons of risotto recipes online, but as long as you have rice, some kind of flavoured water, i guess you could kind of add whatever you want of veggies and top with whatever herb you have around.

another type of porridge i consume a lot these days is hot oat porridge, which i’ve eaten since i was little and it was the first ‘dish’ i learnt to make myself and it’s cheap. some people really dislike the consistency and look but i don’t. it’s also very easy to customise. i put in whatever nuts and seeds(which are often cheaper than nuts) i have around: flaxseed, sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, chopped almonds and sometimes a dollop of peanut butter. i let them simmer along with the oats. i like adding those elements because it gives it some texture and it keeps me more full throughout the day. it’s very important to me because i hate spending money i don’t have on fast-food when i’m not home and i hate being hungry. dried raisins, cranberries for a bit of sweetness and if i’m treating myself i’ll add some fresh apples cut into small pieces or some homemade berry compote(i use frozen) or brown sugar. if i had more money i’d use maple syrup but i don’t at the moment. i also add a bit of cinnamon and cardamom, dried ginger etc, whatever you feel like. some people also add milk afterwards but i’d rather spend my milk on my coffee.

a small tip: making chili flake / garlic oil. it’s really delicious, you could put it straight on pasta with some parmesan and pepper and it would be a filling meal. either chop the garlic really fine, grate it, microplane it, smash it to pieces. heat some olive oil until it’s quite hot, then remove from heat and add the chili flakes and garlic. if the oil isn’t hot enough you can just put the pan or pot back on the heat but be careful you don’t burn the chili flakes or garlic, as it will make it bitter. the longer it will toast, the less pronounced the raw garlic flavour will be, so when it smells toasted enough for your taste, take it off. i store it in a tiny glass jar and add it in stews, sauces, toasts, pizza, sandwiches etc. the flavour is very strong imo and everything it touches will smell like it. something to drink: i like strong foods and i like sour foods, which is why i like lemon/ginger based drinks. to make it even more winter friendly and easy to make, i like to grate unpeeled ginger(i hate slices of ginger, they do nothing for me and seems like a waste of ginger), lemon zest, lemon juice and mix it or blend it with some water/apple juice and honey and strain it afterwards. if you have a really nice blender you can just add all of it together with some ice. i’m basically making a large amount of ginger shot mixture. then when i feel like it, i can take some of the mixture and either drink it as it is, add more apple juice if i need a refreshing beverage or add hot water and more honey for when im cold. you could also add turmeric, chili, use less sweetener and other sorts of healthy stuff but i honestly do it for the taste so i don’t care about that that much.

something sweet: i posted earlier about cakes and someone mentioned swedish kladdkaka, which is a super delicious, cheap, brownie-like chocolate cake that is easily customized and hard to fuck up which is why i’ve made it since i was very young and is a go-to and i didn’t even know it was a swedish thing. if you like airy, light cakes this is not for your. this is sticky, sweet and almost like confection. you can add nuts, swirls of peanutbutter, tahini, actual pieces of chocolate, replace the white sugar with brown sugar, the butter with oil(you can be fancy and use a bit of olive oil) or use a mixture, brown the butter, you name it. the recipe i use is this: melt 100 g butter and let cool. mix 2 eggs + 3 dl sugar in a bowl until fluffy in one bowl. mix 1.5 dl flour, 4 tbs cocoa, 1 pinch of salt in another. mix the dry with the wet mixture and add the cooled, melted butter. this is the point where you’d add chopped nuts, chocolate etc. pour the batter into a cake tin lined with parchment (i use one that is 16 cm in diameters i think). bake the cake for around 30 mins at 150°C - 175°C degrees. check on the cake using a cake tester or a a knife. if the knife is clean after … stabbing it, it’s done! the cake will change it’s texture after cooling. this is a cheap cake, and if you like cake dough you might want to give it less time in the oven for a more fudgey texture. make it your own! there are no rules. last time i made this, i left it in for too long in my opinion but it was still delicious. also i literally have a shit oven with a round oven rack that goes in circles no matter what due to the microwave function, and the only ‘mixing’ equipment i have is a whisk and a spatula. no need for kitchen aids or even electrical hand mixers.

something else i’ve been eating a lot for lunch is simple open faced sandwiches, and something that can really elevate those is: making your own mayonnaise(and toasting the bread). it can be challenging, but it’s really worth it imo and i can’t remember the last time i bought it in a store. i have a small plastic bowl, whisk and 1 egg yolk. something i can really recommend is buying pour snouts for bottles. i transfer my oils from their plastic bottles to smaller, old soda bottles because im cheesy like that and it’s really handy especially when making mayo. constantly whisking the egg yolk by hand and then adding the NEUTRAL oil ever so slowly. don’t be fancy and use cold pressed stuff or extra virgin olive oil because it will taste weird. i only ever fail when i try to use immersion blenders for some weird reason but i find it rewarding to do by hand anyways and i think it might be easier to make smaller portions that way. mayo needs acid and you can get it by adding regular vinegar, apple cider vinegar, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, lime juice, pickle juice, citric acid dissolved in water etc. it’s really easy to customise! when im making banh mi, i add some sesame oil, soy sauce for saltiness and use lime as the acidic element. for more regular use i add a bit of mustard(also helps with the emulsion), for fries, i like adding some fresh garlic. something as simple as mayo, tomatoes, flaky salt and pepper topped with chives is really nice. i also really like using slices of boiled potatoes or boiled eggs(idk if that’s only a thing where i’m from), mayo and the chili garlic oil. it’s also great for making tuna salad. yesterday i made a really simple sandwich with a very simple tuna salad(tuna, mayo, yoghurt, lemon and pepper), arugula, basil, the garlic/chili oil, cream cheese, pickled jalapeños and onions, green peber, cucumber and tomatoes. you could leave out everything but the tuna salad and it would still be a great little meal.

another nice condiment that beats the supermarket stuff by far is homemade ‘pesto’. when i buy parsley from my local grocery store, it’s a gigantic amount that i in no way can consume in a week. first of all when buying fresh herbs i really recommend washing them, wrapping them in a damp towel and keeping them in a closed container. it will prolong their lifetime from lasting a day to a week(change the towel if it seems too wet). i once had some cilantro in my fridge for several weeks and still be fresh. anyways, when i buy that much parsley, i like to remove the tougher parts of the stem(which i use in stews/sauces! chop it up and sautee it along with garlic and onion), add literally just olive oil, water, pepper, garlic, and a bit of acid and then blend away! it keeps for a long time in the fridge and is also delicious beneath tomatoes/potatoes/cheese on open-faced sandwiches. if you want to be fancy you can of course add some type of hard cheese, nuts, seeds, dried tomatoes, whatever.

i know this is the longest text post ever, but as a last reminder, i really recommend watching pasta grannies on youtube. really simple recipes with focus on few, good ingredients that just takes some time and love.

#sorry about the spelling mistakes and everything #it's not my first language but it probably wouldn't be much better if it were #food

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quicksilversquared · 5 years

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Pants on Fire

Ladybug AU/ After Lila decides that Adrien's implied threat has no teeth and decides not to walk back on her claims about Marinette, Marinette stays expelled. But she has absolutely no intention to let things stay that way.

Soon enough, Lila will wish that she had taken Adrien's easy way out.

links in the reblog

Across the street, the school bell rang, and the last of the Françoise Dupont students cleared off of the sidewalk and into the building. From her balcony, Marinette could see her old classmates in their homeroom, gradually making their way to their desks. Lila was still sitting in the back, but Marinette didn't doubt that before long, she would have taken over Marinette's old seat.

Day three of her expulsion from Dupont, and Marinette was (rightfully) no less bitter about it now than she had been three days ago.

Seriously, how was it fair that she got expelled without any sort of investigation? How was it legal? How had her teachers and principal even believed that Marinette would do anything like what Lila had claimed?

Did Lila have secret brain-draining superpowers that no one had found out about yet? That was the only thing that she could think of.

"At least Adrien tried to get Lila to come clean," Tikki offered as her Chosen clambered down from her balcony and headed for her desk. "I mean, I know it didn't work because Lila is too stubborn, but..."

"At least he tried," Marinette finished. She was really grateful for that, honestly. When Adrien had stopped over to check in on her the previous day, he had sounded super frustrated. Apparently Lila had somehow gotten herself invited to his photoshoots and he had confronted her then, trying to bargain the appearance of his friendship to get Lila to walk back her claims about Marinette. At the time, Lila had seemed to agree, but she hadn't followed through afterwards.

Count Marinette not surprised. If Lila walked back on any of her claims, well, that meant that all of her other claims would be questioned, and she would not want to open that door. Even if that meant irritating Adrien.

"And at least someone at Dupont knows that it was Lila's fault," Marinette added with a sigh. Not that it did anything, really, since no one would listen to Adrien, but it was still nice. "And at least he's planning on coming over again and talking to my parents today, so that they aren't just going on my word that I didn't actually do any of the stuff Lila accused me of. But that doesn't get me un-expelled."

"Well, if you can't do anything about it, maybe we should just brush it off and move on," Tikki suggested. "Mulling over it isn't going to help, and if an akuma comes again-"

Marinette hid her scowl and reached for her remote, flipping her monitor from computer screen to TV to drown out the rest of Tikki's words. She knew that it wasn't a good thing that an akuma had actually managed to get as far as corrupting her purse, even if Marinette had still had enough control at the time to start taking her earrings out so that Tikki could fly away with them. Tikki didn't have to keep reminding her that getting akumatized wouldn't be good. Marinette knew that.

(Marinette was this close to going to Master Fu without Tikki and talking to him about her kwami's constant scolding. Marinette knew that her duties as Ladybug were important, but what about the girl under Ladybug's mask? Didn't her feelings matter, too? What was she supposed to do, take a train out to the countryside so that she was out of Hawkmoth's range and only let her emotions out there? Be an emotionless robot until Hawkmoth was defeated? No thank you.)

"Don't be bemused, it's just the news!" Nadja Chamack was saying on-screen, beaming into the camera as Marinette pulled up her first lesson of the day on her tablet. "In today's news, we have extended coverage from the most recent akuma battle, updates from the mayor on proposed new recycling initiatives, and much, much more!"

Madam Chamack chatted on as Marinette started reading through her first class's lesson, determined to at least stay on top of her studies and not let herself fall behind. The online school she had gotten herself enrolled in for the time being was flexible enough that if she got a little behind schedule because of an akuma attack it wouldn't be too big of an issue, but there was no point starting off on the wrong foot.

Besides, if she could work ahead, then she could maybe have some more free time to try to make some progress on tracking down Hawkmoth. That would be making the most out of her situation, at least, and then she would be in a better position to focus on improving her designs and sewing techniques so that she could start developing a portfolio while she was in lycée.

Tikki finally settled down across the room, fiddling with some of Marinette's extra thread and beads while Marinette worked her way through the day's Literature lesson, then Math and Civics and Chemistry. The TV kept playing in the background, muted only when Marinette needed to listen to a video for her schoolwork on her tablet.

"Morning classes done ahead of schedule," Marinette said cheerfully as soon as she finished her last electron drawing. "And homework for them finished at the same time, not that there was much homework to do to start with. Time for a break, I think."

"It is almost time for lunch," Tikki agreed, flying over to join her. "You wouldn't be getting out for another half-hour at Dupont, but you've been working hard! And normally, you would have breaks between classes."

"Mm-hmm." Marinette glanced back up at her computer monitor to glance at the time, then did a double-take when she saw the screen. "Hey, I remember hearing something about this before! Tikki, can you turn up the volume?"

"-the continued fallout from the plagiarism scandal at Paris's famed university for the arts," Madam Chamack said onscreen as Tikki bumped the volume. "Another professor has been linked to the scam, which came to light after a student discovered the plagiarism. After the faculty member that she brought her concerns to didn't do anything about the issue, the student, who wishes to remain unidentified, did her own digging and found enough evidence to go straight to the police."

Marinette froze, eyes fixed on the screen as Madam Chamack kept talking, telling her viewers the timeline of what had been discovered so far. There was a lot, with faculty members at the university trying to sweep the problem under the rug all because of some rich donors who wanted to keep the flow of ideas coming to them. Three attempts from the student to let professors and administrators know that it was happening had all been swept aside with empty assurances and nothing had happened.

No one had expected the stubborn student, armed with facts and evidence to the point where she could directly get the police involved.

And Marinette's brain went aha.

There was plenty of evidence out there that Lila was lying, if only people bothered to look. The looking had been the issue at school, with everyone just taking Lila at her word instead of actually looking for themselves. Marinette didn't doubt that Lila had taken at least some steps to cover her steps- forging her mother's signature, probably, and giving incorrect email addresses that would divert to any emails to her mother to a mimic email that Lila could control- but that didn't mean that they just had to take that at face value!

But if Marinette compiled a whole pile of evidence, then- well, Marinette wasn't going to kid herself into saying that that would solve everything, either. Knowing the discipline that was given at her school, Lila would probably get a tap on the hand as punishment, and everything would get swept under the rug. But if Marinette got evidence, and then went to the proper authorities so that Ms. Buster and Mr. Damocles were forced to act, well...

That might be the exact thing she needed.

Adrien wasn't sure what to expect when he headed over to the Dupain-Cheng bakery after school. He had waited until most of the other students had cleared off before leaving, so that Lila wouldn't see him going over and try to mess things up even more, then ducked into the bakery itself.

He had told the Gorilla that he was studying at the school for a couple hours, so hopefully he wouldn't be interrupted.

"Good afternoon, Adrien," Mrs. Cheng greeted him. She didn't sound as upbeat as she usually did, which wasn't much of a surprise considering that Marinette's expulsion was still fresh. "What can I get for you today?"

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Adrien told her, glancing around the bakery. The collège student rush had passed, and now there was only a businessman perusing the shelves of baked goods. "About what happened earlier this week-"

Mrs. Cheng's shoulders stiffened, and her smile became a bit more wooden. "I appreciate the concern, Adrien, but-"

"Lila's a liar," Adrien blurted before she could wave him out of the bakery. "She's been making up stories left and right about knowing all these famous people ever since she arrived in Paris, and she's had it out for Marinette from the start because Marinette never fell for her lies."

Mrs. Cheng blinked at him, clearly perplexed. "Are you sure that Lila is making up her stories? Alya dropped by for a couple minutes yesterday and she seemed certain that Marinette was just jealous."

Adrien only just barely resisted the urge to snort. Marinette, jealous? Marinette was possibly the most connected person in their class, if he didn't count the connections that he and Chloe had just because of who their parents were. She designed things for Jagged Stone on at least a semi-regular basis, and Clara Nightingale knew her and liked her, and his father had complimented Marinette's designs. "I'm positive, Mrs. Cheng. Lila claimed to be Ladybug's best friend right after she first arrived in Paris, and I was there when Ladybug confronted Lila about lying. And Lila claimed that she once saved Jagged Stone's kitten on an airplane tarmac and so he's a huge fan of hers, and Marinette knows Jagged Stone. She knows that Jagged never had a kitten. And if Lila was making that up, the probability of everything else being a lie, too..."

Mrs. Cheng's expression turned pensive.

"Besides, the pendant that Lila claimed was her grandmother's is actually from my father's latest jewelry line," Adrien added. "It's a replica of the Fox Miraculous, and she bought it shortly after she arrived in Paris. And Lila claimed to have injured her ankle from falling down the stairs, but as soon as there isn't any attention on her, she's walking just fine. And the foot that she's 'favoring' keeps switching."

"And the teachers didn't notice that, or investigate?" Mrs. Cheng asked, the doubt in her voice finally starting to vanish. "It's what they're meant to do, surely."

Adrien could only shrug. He wasn't sure why Marinette's expulsion had been rushed, unless... "Lila told us that her mom's an Italian diplomat. They might have just not wanted to cause an incident."

Mrs. Cheng muttered something under her breath that Adrien didn't entirely catch, but it sounded rather like "I'll show them an incident."

...if Mrs. Cheng was going to storm over to the school to throw hands with Mr. Damocles, Adrien wanted to be there.

"Thank you for letting me know, Adrien," Mrs. Cheng finally said after a couple of seconds had passed. "I didn't want to doubt Marinette, because the accusations didn't sound like her, but I was putting too much faith in the teachers, it seems. That, and the fact that Alya seems to like Lila... well, that was a bit confusing."

Adrien nodded. He could understand that.

"You can go up to see Marinette, if you want," Mrs. Cheng added after another pause. "I mean, if she's working on her schoolwork then don't disturb her, but I'm sure she would enjoy seeing you otherwise."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cheng."

"And here, have a cookie on your way up, I know these are your favorite."

Adrien lit up as he accepted the treat. "Thank you, Mrs. Cheng!"

That mission accomplished, Adrien headed up the stairs with a bounce in his step. It seemed like Mrs. Cheng had believed him, which would hopefully help repair any strain that had appeared in the relationship between Marinette and her parents. He wasn't sure if Marinette's parents would be able to get through to Mr. Damocles any better than he had- Adrien had tried talking to their principal again today between classes, only to get immediately brushed off- but it was at least a step in the right direction.

Even with a fresh cookie to munch on, it didn't take Adrien long to reach the Dupain-Cheng living room. Marinette's trap door was propped partway open, so he headed, up, keeping his steps quiet in case she was still trying to study. Up above, he could hear Marinette's voice, a low murmur as though she were absentmindedly talking to herself.

"Okay, so either Lila was lying about her mom being an ambassador, or the pictures that she showed us of her with her mom were photoshopped," Marinette was musing aloud when Adrien popped his head in her room behind her, going completely unnoticed. She was sitting in front of the computer, intently focused on something onscreen. It didn't sound like schoolwork, though, so Adrien slipped through her open trapdoor and into her room. "Which would make sense, if she didn't want us recognizing her mom out on the street and saying anything about all of her lies, but how good would she have to be at Photoshop, really?"

"This doesn't sound like schoolwork," Adrien teased, making Marinette yelp and startle before spinning to face him. "Your mom said not to disturb you if you were still doing your lessons, but is it safe to say you've finished?"

"Finished and then some," Marinette agreed, waving him over. "Right now, I'm finding evidence."

Adrien bounced up, at her side in a moment, instantly curious. "Evidence? That Lila's lying, I'm guessing, just based on what I just overheard."

"Exactly." Marinette waved at her screen. "And right now, what I'm finding is that Mrs. Rossi isn't an ambassador. Not unless she has a different last name than Lila and isn't the same person that Lila showed us in her photos."

"I- what?" Adrien leaned over, scanning the computer screen. Marinette let him, scrolling down to let him see the rest of the page, which was apparently from the Italian Embassy's site and showed all of their top staff. Sure enough, there was no sign of the woman whose picture Lila had shown them of her mom. "That's just- wow. Uh, do any of them have, like, personal descriptions at all? You know, like get-to-know-me pages?"

Marinette shook her head. "I've already checked. They're all very professional, no personal information in sight. Which doesn't surprise me, really. I mean, if there are people out there who might have a bone to pick with the embassy for some reason, you don't want too much personal information online."

Adrien opened his mouth, then closed it. He hadn't thought of that. He also didn't understand why someone might have an issue with an ambassador to the point of wanting to target their family, but if Marinette thought that that might be an issue, then he would believe her.

"So that's a dead end for the time being," Marinette told him. "Which is fine, really, because I got a job description of what ambassadors do, which isn't what Lila has been telling people, and then this is evidence that either she's lied about her mom being an ambassador, or she's lying about what her mom looks like-"

"Or she's lying about which country her mom is ambassador for," Adrien finished. He shrugged when she gave him a dubious look. "I mean, it's possible! Then the teachers wouldn't know which embassy to contact."

"I guess. I hadn't thought of that."

"D'you think it's enough to make Mr. Damocles undo your suspension?" Adrien asked, stepping back to snag Marinette's extra chair and pulling it over to sit next to her. "Because I mean, it feels a little mean to say it, but... he sometimes doesn't seem the sharpest? And I just worry that he might try to say that Lila's other lies don't matter, just because of what they 'found' in your bag and locker."

Marinette ducked her head, clearly trying to hide a giggle. Adrien was glad that he could amuse her, at least. "I'm not planning on going over with just a little evidence. Lila could probably lie her way out of that. I want to find a ton of evidence and actually get other authorities involved. Like, Lila definitely was skipping class without permission, and there are such things as truancy officers."

...this was starting to sound serious. Like, really serious.

"That seems like a lot of work that you shouldn't have to do, Marinette," Adrien pointed out, suddenly worried for his friend. He knew that Marinette had a tendency to overwork herself, and with all of the additional stress of getting expelled, that didn't seem like a good idea. "Are you sure-"

"That I want to spend time on it? Definitely," Marinette finished. "I'm not sitting by and letting Lila get away with expelling me. It'll go on my permanent school record- getting expelled, and the cheating and the stairs and the stealing from another student. Once I get to lycée and go back to a traditional school, the teachers won't trust me at all." Her expression became determined. "So if the adults won't step up and help, then I'll make it so that they can't not help."

...Adrien hadn't thought of that before. Being expelled from the school that Marinette had gone to for years and from classmates that she had known for even longer was bad enough on its own. But the effects didn't just stop there, and that had to suck. Like, a lot.

(Adrien was going to ask Plagg to destroy Lila's homework, he really was. Maybe it was petty, but in comparison to what Lila had done? It was nothing.)

"Ooh, yeah, I didn't think about that." Adrien scooted closer, glancing at her for permission before snagging her notebook to look at her list of lies. There... well, there were a lot of them. He had kind of tuned Lila out after a point, so to be honest, he didn't remember all of them. One of the topmost bullet points caught his eye, though, and Adrien frowned in confusion. "You're trying to disprove her being abroad using her Skyping? How is that meant to work?"

Marinette grinned, perking up and snagging her tablet from next to the computer. "Yeah, I took pictures of her when she was Skyping us, and they're clear enough to make out the background behind her." She tapped a couple spots on her screen, then turned it to face Adrien. Sure enough, there was an entire folder of pictures of Lila Skyping them from a whole bunch of different places. "Aside from the fact that she definitely wouldn't get enough Internet to get be able to call us from the street- or good enough cell service to get that clear of a photo- there's no people or cars in the background. Of very main streets. Ever."

Adrien's jaw dropped, and he stared at her in admiration. He had suspected that Lila wasn't telling the full truth, of course, but he had mostly thought that she was lying about who she was meeting, not necessarily where she was. But Marinette was absolutely right. "Wow, Marinette. I didn't- I didn't even think of that! You're brilliant. So what was she in front of, then? Posters?"

Marinette nodded. "I think so. I did a little bit of searching at the time, and if she had used a greenscreen, then she would have risked a little distorted halo showing up around her. Either way, she had to get the picture from the backdrop somewhere, and I want to find it. How I'll do that I don't know, exactly, but I'll figure it out."

"Brilliant." Adrien gave her another admiring glance before turning his attention back to her list. Marinette was a lot like Ladybug, really. She noticed details that no one else did, and could pick out when things were even a little out of place. It was a talent for sure, and one that Adrien honestly wished he had.

But he didn't, so he would have to content himself with helping out the most fantastic girls in his life in whatever ways he could.

Which, at the moment, could very well be using his connections.

"I actually have Prince Ali's contact information," Adrien commented as he noticed one specific bullet point on the list. Lila had told several stories about being in contact with Prince Ali and organizing charities and events with him. Connections with an actual prince was a undeniable attention-getter, so her fascination with him was no real surprise. "We've not been in contact that often, but my father had him and his assistant over while they were in Paris. There was an idea that there might be some collaboration or publicity with Gabriel that fell through, but, well..." Adrien shrugged, bashful. "Neither of us had that many friends at that time, so we exchanged numbers. I can text him and ask about Lila's claims and if he has any suggestions for sites to look at to back up his claims." He flashed a smile at Marinette. "Because I bet we don't just want word-of-mouth, right? Since emails can be modified or faked."

Marinette looked thrilled. "Right! And I'm so glad you have a way to contact Prince Ali, because I figured- well, I figured that those lies would be the most difficult ones to disprove, since Achu seems to keep him fairly sheltered from the media and not that much information about his life gets out."

"They do, but I'm pretty sure that Prince Ali does have some official pages with information on his projects." Adrien pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to Prince Ali before tucking it back in his pocket and turning his full attention back to Marinette. He had the better part of an hour left before the Gorilla would come looking for him, and he wanted to use that time to help Marinette as much as he could. "Okay. What else do you have on your list?"

Things were coming together faster than Marinette had expected, she had to admit. Only days after she started collecting evidence, her parents' last lingering doubts about the validity of any of the claims against her had vanished, they had told Madam Chamack and she was preparing a story to break once Marinette said the word, and on top of that, they now had a lawyer who had listened to Marinette's detailing of everything that had happened at school. They were preparing a lawsuit against the school, because absolutely none of the required procedures for expulsion had been followed.

Like, literally none. The accusations had been flimsy and all coming from one other student, and they hadn't been investigated at all. There had been no consideration of how likely the accusations were given Marinette's stellar history, and no calling in Lila's mother to discuss the accusations. There was absolutely no sense of any procedure being followed, and considering how much behavior from Chloe the school had let slide before, well...

The favoritism there was astounding, and they couldn't let it stand.

Marinette smiled at the reminder of that meeting as she navigated her way though her online school's portal. It was really nice to have so much support from adults, after months and months and months at school where people hadn't listened to her about Lila, hadn't done anything about Chloe, had told her that really, it isn't as big of a problem as you're making it out to be.

It was a big problem, and people weren't addressing it correctly, and that was going to be fixed. It was unfortunate that it had gotten to the point where lawsuits had to get involved, but things couldn't just be allowed to continue as they were.

And this time, it wasn't entirely up to Marinette to end it. The adults would take care of all of the legal stuff, and if Marinette decided that she was tired of dealing with the situation entirely, then that didn't mean that Lila would get away with things.

Which was nice to know, even if Marinette had no intention of excusing herself from the whole thing. Lila had made life exceedingly difficult for Marinette; now, Marinette wanted to look Lila in the eye while grinding all of her lies into the ground.

...maybe she shouldn't be so focused on revenge when she was a superhero, but honestly, Lila had it coming.

Smiling to herself, Marinette clicked a couple few more times before reaching her target page. It loaded quickly, the title of her class and her current unit at the top of the page, with a little bar below it showing where she was compared to where she was meant to be.

Marinette had started slightly behind schedule- Dupont had apparently fallen behind the national standards schedule, probably because of akuma attacks interrupting their days- and now she had caught up in most subjects and already had started edging ahead in a couple classes, including this particular one.

Civics. Unit: Foreign Relations

Unit project: Create a product- a poster, a paper, or a film- on a country of your choice, documenting their relationship with France, current and historical. Exact requirements, due dates, and minimum lengths detailed below.

It wasn't a mistake that Marinette had pushed herself to get ahead in this particular class. She had looked ahead and seen this particular project coming up and, well, filming some interviews at the Italian Embassy sounded like it would fit the bill perfectly.

"Do you really think that that's necessary at this point, Marinette?" Tikki asked from where she was perched on Marinette's sewing machine. "I mean, you have enough evidence to prove that Lila has hardly been truthful and shouldn't be trusted, and even if she tries to wriggle her way out of it, it's not going to work. Not with a truancy officer alerted and on her trail. Once an accusation has been filed, they will investigate it until they're satisfied. It's going to take more than a couple fake tears and excuses for them to drop it."

"Honestly, this bit is mostly because I'm still curious." Marinette sat back in her chair, scanning over the project guidelines. "Like, I know that Lila needed a backstory that would make it plausible that she could have met a bunch of famous people and be traveling all of the time, but why the Italian Embassy? Was that picture really of her mom? I just- I want to nose around a little. Besides, more evidence is always a good thing, and it doubles as a school assignment, too!"

"A school assignment that isn't due for weeks," Tikki pointed out. "You know what your mom told you, about not burning yourself out by overworking!"

Marinette shrugged, even as she made a few notes about things that she would have to do before filming- looking up some basic history about France-Italian relations, reaching out to a couple ambassadors to see if she could interview them, and seeing if she could check out some decent video camera and microphone equipment from the library were on the top of her list, along with coming up with questions that would hit all of the needed points plus a couple extra. "I mean, I think I'll be fine, especially because, well, I don't think I'm going to get invited to any get-togethers with the girls this week. Alya seemed pretty ticked with me when she left yesterday. So I'll have a lot of free time, probably."

Tikki made a face at that. "I suppose. But you still have Adrien coming over every day! It's not like you aren't speaking to any of your old classmates."

Marinette ducked her head, unable to hide her smile. Adrien had been spending a lot of time with her, and every afternoon they spent together made it that much easier for her to speak to him and see the time as hanging out as friends, not as a potential lead-up to a date. She could enjoy their time together fully, instead of being strung out and on edge.

It didn't take long for Marinette to get fully back into her schoolwork, continuing her slow edging forward ahead of the schedule. Despite her kwami's (and her mother's) worries, she really wasn't overworking herself. Pushing herself, maybe, but really, all Marinette was doing was putting her best foot forward and going at her own pace. It was just that her own pace was fast.

It was just that in class, they always had to slow down when someone didn't understand what was going on, which- well, in some classes, it could be pretty often. Then there were disruptions from people asking questions (or making comments about the famous people they had "met" that were somehow meant to be relevant to whatever they were doing) or having arguments, and the time spent handing out and collecting papers. There were breaks between classes, and even some classes where they ended up with extra, wasted time at the end of their class when they finished something early and didn't have enough time to start something new. That added up to a lot of time, it turned out, and with someone who was properly motivated, getting ahead in classes was a piece of cake.

Marinette was properly motivated. So motivated, in fact, that she completely missed Adrien calling her name from downstairs before coming up into her room, hair in disarray with sweat after his fencing lesson and backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

"That doesn't look familiar. You must have passed us, then."

Marinette yelped, startling and whipping around. Adrien just looked amused at her reaction, pulling up his usual chair next to her. "Am I right?"

"Yeah, I'm working ahead," Marinette admitted, glancing back at her screen. "It gives me something to do. And when the curriculum was made, I think they factored in some interruptions during class, and I don't really have that. I mean, we had a meeting with a lawyer today, but that was kind of over lunch anyway so I didn't fall behind."

Adrien blinked, puzzled. "A lawyer?"

"My mom was talking to Madam Chamack, because they're friends, and she said that it would be the best idea," Marinette told him. "It'll get my expulsion cleared for sure, and will address some of the ongoing problems at the school."

A flash of uncertainty crossed Adrien's face and he started worrying at his lip. "So Ms. Bustier and Mr. Damocles will be getting in trouble, too, not just Lila?"

She had suspected that Adrien might have trouble with that. Marinette had too, because she had known Ms. Bustier for years now and for the most part, had enjoyed her as a teacher. But, well, it was impossible to ignore all of the serious missteps that Ms. Bustier had made. "Yeah. But if it was just Lila getting in trouble, then what happens down the road if another liar shows up, or just another bully in general, and they just keep doing the same thing where there aren't any punishments? I could handle it, but I couldn't always, and, well..."

"And not everyone is as resilient and brave as you," Adrien finished, the uncertainly on his face starting to ebb away. "And not everyone is as willing as you to stand up and fight, or help classmates. I know if it was me that Lila had targeted, I- well, I might try protesting, but I don't think it would go very far. I would end up homeschooled again for sure, and never get to go back to public school again."

"I think the rest of us would protest, and I would definitely go after Lila just like I am now," Marinette assured him. "But for kids in the future who might not have that- well, I don't want injustice to go unchecked. I'm not going to be surprised if someone gets akumatized over this, but better one or two people now than a whole slew of people in the future."

Adrien nodded, letting out a slow breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I can understand that. It makes sense, I was just surprised." He worried his lip, then perked up. "Oh, I meant to tell you right away- I think that Madam Mendeleev has caught on that Lila isn't telling the truth, because she isn't being as lenient with Lila as she used to be. She's not giving any accommodations whenever Lila tries to claim that she needs them because of some condition or another, and she's told Lila off about story time in her classroom."

Marinette giggled. "Oh, I would love to see that. I bet Lila is pretty mad about that."

"She's whined plenty, but I don't think that it's going to do much. Not if she doesn't have a doctor's note to back all of her 'conditions' up, and not when Madam Mendeleev has actually had students with some of the conditions that Lila has claimed before." Adrien grinned. "The look on Lila's face at that- oh, you should have been there. Al- some of the other classmates were scandalized that she was questioning a medical condition, and there was a whole thing- actually, I can see how you're getting so far ahead of us," Adrien interrupted himself with a snort. "Ten minutes of class, gone, just because of, uh, people pulling up sources on accommodating disabilities and trying to talk over Madam Mendeleev until they got sent to the office."

"Why do I get the feeling that you were referring to Alya?" Marinette asked with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "Now she decides to go for her sources. She won't even entertain the idea of looking up sources for Lila's claims or for some of the stuff she posts on the Ladyblog, but the moment that someone questions Lila..."

Adrien quirked an eyebrow at her. "Should- should I ask?"

"Alya came over yesterday to update me on her 'investigation' and I commented on the fact that she wasn't even looking at Lila as a possibility even though she was the one leveling all of the accusations, and she got really ticked at me," Marinette told him. "She said something about making accusations without any evidence and being obsessed with Lila and then stormed out."

Adrien spluttered. "She- you- she accused you of making accusations without evidence? But you have a literal pile of evidence right over there- it's not hidden or anything! Like, it's super-obvious! How did she miss that?"

Marinette could only shrug. "You know Alya. When she gets focused on one thing, she just turns oblivious to everything else."

"That's frustrating." Adrien reached over to squeeze her hand comfortingly, flashing her a small smile. "I'm sure she'll be kicking herself once everything comes out."

"Yeah, especially because of the latest interview I got." Marinette reached forward, picking up the flash drive sitting next to her computer and waving it at him. "I got a brief interview with Ladybug, and she confirmed that the first time she heard of Lila was when she saw the video on the Ladyblog, and that she saw Lila throw away your father's book, and that she was in Paris on Heroes' Day, and that she's maliciously interfered with akuma battles before."

"Ooh, nice," Adrien said appreciatively. "That must have been hard to get, but that'll be good. And also a good way to point out to Alya that she literally didn't check anything."

Marinette could only smile. Actually, once she had gotten things set up, it had been quite easy to get the video. All she had really needed to do was record herself asking the questions, pitching her voice a little higher than usual, and then play them back while Ladybug answered the questions, doing her best to make it sound like she hadn't practiced already and pitching her voice slightly downwards.

The Miraculous would protect her identity no matter what, but there was no point in risking someone noticing that her voice and Ladybug's were incredibly similar.

"Are you almost done with evidence-collecting, do you think?" Adrien asked Marinette, giving the flash drive one last look before turning his attention to Marinette. "I mean, the sooner you break the news, the sooner you can come back."

Marinette winced. This was the news that she hadn't been looking forward to breaking. "Actually, I, uh..."

Adrien practically wilted. "You're not coming back?"

"My parents are really furious at the school," Marinette admitted. "We've been talking a lot, and I maybe hadn't told them everything that had been happening at school over the past few years with bullying and discipline, and- well, they said that unless there were significant changes, they don't want me going back. I'll be rejoining everyone in lycée," she added quickly before Adrien slouched straight off of his chair. "Which isn't that far off, really, in the grand scheme of things. And I can hang out with the class whenever, and if you want to come over like you are now, or over lunch..."

"So it's not like we won't be seeing you at all," Adrien finished, scooting closer to her. "I was worried about that."

Marinette flashed a smile at him. She was going to miss hanging out with people between classes, but sacrifices had to be made if she wanted to fully capitalize on her temporary homeschooling and it wouldn't be forever. "Right. I'll be right across the street, available to hang out. It's not the end of the word."

"And it gives me a reason to look forward to lycée," Adrien added on. He glanced at her computer screen, which still had her online school portal up. "And I was right, wasn't I? About you being ahead of Dupont now?"

"It wasn't hard," Marinette admitted. "You guys are behind, and when I work at my own speed, I can cover more than a day's work. So that's another reason it wouldn't really make sense for me to go back, because I'll be so far ahead. And it's probably going to be another week at least, because all of the legal stuff takes some time to put together and file."

Adrien nodded, still looking a bit let down. Clearly he had been hoping that Marinette would be returning to school soon, and as much as that made Marinette's heart race, she couldn't change her plans. "Right."

"But enough depressing stuff," Marinette decided, shutting her notebook and closing the school website before grinning up at Adrien. "Wanna play Mecha Strike?"

"That sounds perfect."

Marinette headed up the steps of the Italian Embassy, a spring in her steps. It hadn't taken long to set up an appointment to interview an ambassador and a couple other staff members at the embassy, and they were more than willing to spend a few minutes with her. She had promised not to take up too much of their time- after all, they had important work to do- and now she was arriving early, just to make sure that something like a delayed bus wouldn't make her late.

Not that she would have allowed a delayed bus to make her late. After all, Ladybug could cross Paris faster than any bus could, so if it had come to that, she would have just transformed and raced across the rooftops. It wouldn't be ideal- she didn't want Chat Noir to see her out and about and interrupt his school day because he thought that there was an akuma- but the option was still there.

"So I'm meeting with Ambassador Bianchi in ten minutes and Monsieur Moretti after that," Marinette told Tikki as she mounted the last few steps and headed for the door. "I tested all of the equipment last night, so that I know how it works and that it works. I checked to make sure that all of my previous footage was off, so I have plenty of space. Tikki, am I forgetting anything?"

"No, I don't think so!" Tikki chirped, sticking her head out of Marinette's purse briefly before vanishing back inside. "You're all set, Marinette!"

Giving a determined nod, Marinette pulled open the door, stepping inside the embassy. A cheerful lady at the welcome desk gave her directions to the ambassador's office, and Marinette strode as confidently as she could down the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor. There were more than a couple people wandering down the halls chatting in Italian, and Marinette caught flashes of conversations as she passed them.

It wasn't hard to find the ambassador's office- the embassy had good signage, she would give them that- and Marinette stepped in the open door, coming to a stop in front of Ambassador Bianchi's secretary's desk, where a oddly familiar woman sat.

Lila's mother. And it definitely was Lila's mother because behind her, pinned to a very full corkboard, was a picture of Lila and her mom together with an older couple.

Well. Maybe Lila had been lying about her mother being an ambassador or in any sort of top diplomatic position, but she was at least at the Italian Embassy.

"Ah, you must be Ambassador Bianchi's eleven o'clock appointment," Mrs. Rossi said, giving Marinette a friendly smile. "She said something about a student project?"

"Yes, I'm on my Foreign Relations unit right now and we're supposed to do a project on France's relationship with another country. My Nonna is Italian, so..." Marinette shrugged. It wasn't an entire lie. Even if Lila hadn't been in the picture, Marinette probably would have picked Italy to research. That, or China. "I decided to learn a bit more about the country that side of the family is from."

"How lovely!" Mrs. Rossi exclaimed. She smiled at Marinette. "Now, if you want to take a seat over there to wait, the ambassador will be about five minutes."

"Okay," Marinette said automatically, then paused. Maybe she already had all of the evidence she needed to get Lila in very deep trouble, but she couldn't deny that she was really curious about Lila's mom and what exactly was going on there. "Or, actually- if you're busy or don't want to, that's fine, but could I maybe interview you about what you do at the embassy as well?"

Mrs. Rossi perked up. "Oh, I think I can spare a few minutes for that! I never really get asked about what I do," she confided as Marinette quickly pulled out her camera and attached the microphone to it. "Which I can understand, because everybody always talks about the ambassadors and the ministers and they get the spotlight, but there's plenty of staff behind the scene who make the entire place run smoothly. There's a lot of work involved- I work overtime most days, but that's also because I'm still getting used to this job."

Marinette nodded as she checked both mic and camera to make sure that they were running. "When I was reading up on what an embassy does, it certainly sounded complicated! It's not a huge surprise that there are people behind the scenes making sure that everything gets done."

"It might surprise you how many people that information does surprise." Mrs. Rossi considered Marinette again, pausing. Marinette tried to not stiffen up. Had Mrs. Rossi realized who she was? "Forgive me for prying, but I'm curious- shouldn't you be at school right now? Did they give you a pass so that you could do the interviews?"

Marinette shook her head, feeling herself starting to relax. Maybe Lila had decided that her mom might be suspicious or decide to move her to another school if she reported any problems- real or imaginary- to her and so hadn't mentioned Marinette at all. "I'm being homeschooled at the moment- or, rather, I'm enrolled in an online school for the rest of collège."

"Oh, that's quite nice," Mrs. Rossi commented, perking up. "And smart, considering the akuma attacks here in Paris! My daughter's collège was closed for several months because of akuma attacks there- or maybe it was just one akuma who was taking forever to defeat, I don't remember- and I do worry about how that's going to impact her education. I'd have her switch schools, but I worry that other schools would have the same problem and the one she's at is quite highly rated." She sighed. "And Lila seems to have made quite a few friends there, and she's gotten a boyfriend, so I don't want to make her switch and I hadn't had the time to look into other options anyway."

...okay, this was interesting. It also answered the question of how Lila's mom hadn't noticed her skipping school for months on end, but Marinette was really wondering how busy Mrs. Rossi was if she hadn't even looked into Lila's claims. One simple Google search, and she would have found out that no such long-term akuma existed.

She also had questions about the boyfriend claim. Something told Marinette that Lila had probably claimed that she was dating Adrien, who was likely to be less than happy about that claim.

"Huh, I hadn't heard any news about any collèges being closed because of akuma," Marinette said instead of questioning anything, shrugging one shoulder. "Odd. But getting back on track..." She made a show of getting the camera properly lined up, then peered over the top. "Can you tell me what you do here at the embassy?"

Marinette was prepared.

Over the past couple of weeks, with Adrien's help and a bit of an assist from her family's lawyer, she had debunked pretty much all of Lila's lies. She had printed out pages of evidence and compiled video clips from the interviews she had done on flash drives. The lawsuits- both against the school and against Lila specifically- had just been filed, and Madam Chamack would be breaking the story that morning, while Marinette went in to confront Ms. Bustier and Lila.

Everything was ready, all of her evidence packed into her bag the previous evening, and Marinette was doing breathing exercises while waiting to head into the school. Her family's lawyer, several members of the school board, a substitute teacher, and a truancy officer were all waiting downstairs in the bakery, and would be accompanying her over.

A ding from her phone caught Marinette's attention, and she pulled it out of her purse. On-screen, there was a message from Adrien.

Looking forward to seeing you! You'll do great :)

Smiling, Marinette tapped out a quick reply before sending it and heading downstairs. Nerves were really building in her stomach now, but she pushed them back down. She had faced akumas and supervillains before. This would be a piece of cake.

"The bell has rung," Madam Rochefort commented, glancing up from her tablet. "Let's head over in five, to give people time to settle down."

Ms. Boutin flashed a grin at Madam Rochefort. "It's so odd, seeing you deliberately planning to make a scene during classes. Normally you're all about pulling teachers aside before or after school."

"They decided to make the accusations and expulsion a public spectacle, so I'm not going to grant them the privilege of resolving their problems in private." Madam Rochefort smiled at Marinette. "And I certainly couldn't deny Miss Dupain-Cheng here the satisfaction of throwing all of her evidence in her class's face."

Marinette smiled at that. She had been a little worried with all of the officials that had gotten involved that she wouldn't be able to carry out her (admittedly somewhat petty) plan, but they had been willing to accommodate her.

Five minutes later, they were marching over to the school. Ms. Boutin knocked on the large doors sharply, then stepped back to wait for an answer. Seconds later, Mr. Haprèle opened the doors, annoyed look giving way to confusion.

"Good morning, we're from the school board," Madam Rochefort announced, ushering Marinette in ahead of her and flashing her ID at . "We've come to speak to a couple of the teachers and your principal."

Mr. Haprèle nodded, stepping to the side to let them in even as the confused look stayed on his face. Marinette led the way up to Ms. Bustier's classroom, excitement mounting in every step.

She could do this. Everything was labeled so there was no chance of her messing anything up. There was no need to go into detail for anything if she didn't want to. For once, other people could exert some actual effort and look at the evidence she had helpfully gathered for them instead of her having to explain each and every piece.

"Go get 'em," Ms. Boutin told Marinette, patting her arm. "And we're right here, waiting for our cue. They won't be able to ignore you this time."

Nodding, Marinette put on her Ladybug face, then turned towards the door. With one last deep breath, she shoved open the door, sending it flying open and drawing every student's eye to her as she strode into the classroom, confidence in every step.

"Marinette!" Ms. Bustier exclaimed, rising from her desk at the front. There was a frown on her face. "What are you doing here? You've been expelled, you're not allowed on school property, especially during school hours-"

Marinette's fierce expression cut her off. "Actually, I'm here to contest my expulsion. I think you'll find that none of the requirements for expulsion were even met. Additionally-" Marinette started digging in her bag, a frown flashing across her face as she realized that it might be a bit difficult to pull things out of her bag.

"I can hold your bag, Marinette!" Adrien offered at once, sliding out of his seat and coming up front to join her, taking her bag and flashing her an encouraging smile. You've got this.

"Thank you, Adrien." Marinette returned his smile, then returned to her earlier intensity. "As I was saying- no procedure was followed. The decision to expel me was entirely based on claims made by a lying, thieving, completely untrustworthy liar."

Lila gasped theatrically from her seat, which- surprise, surprise- was now next to Alya, in Marinette's old spot. "You're still trying to call me a liar? Just because you're jealous-"

Marinette cut her off, pulling the first stack of packets out of her bag while staring Lila down. "Evidence that Lila was lying about saving Jagged Stone's cat and knowing him at all. Almost all of which is public information, if anyone had bothered to look." She slammed the first packet down on Ms. Bustier's desk. "That she was lying about knowing Prince Ali." Another slam. "And that literally all of her supposed involvement in charity work and other organizations is a lie, as are all of the other connections that she claimed to have and that I'm not even going to dignify naming."

This slam was even louder. There were several flinches around the room. Lila was starting to look a little less confident, her eyes darting towards Ms. Bustier.

"And, most importantly." Marinette's eyes flashed back to Ms. Bustier, who was looking very taken aback. "Which the teachers here really should have looked into properly, instead of just blindly believing Lila. She was lying about being out of Paris at all and was using posters as her background when she called us, which should have been obvious to anyone with eyes, because there were exactly zero pedestrians or cars behind her. I found all of the posters she used with a very simple reverse photo search."

There were gasps at that, and Ms. Bustier pressed a hand to her chest, looking over at Lila.

"Additionally, as if the posters weren't enough, I have interviews with both Ladybug and Mrs. Rossi that confirm that Lila was in Paris for the entirety of the time that she claimed to be traveling." Marinette reached in the bag one more time, pulling out her flash drive. Lila had gone pale at that, and oh, it was so satisfying. "Those were both very interesting, actually. Ladybug told me that the first time she had ever heard of Lila was when she saw the Ladyblog video where Lila was claiming to be her best friend, and that Lila has hated her for calling her out of the lies. Additionally, Lila has deliberately gotten in the way of the superheroes during akuma battles in order to sabotage them, and she was in Paris on Heroes' Day as Volpina, who made the illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir fighting."

There were gasps at that. Marinette was not done.

"And on top of that, Ladybug saw Lila throwing a book into the trash- a book that Lila stole from Adrien." Marinette's eyes narrowed at Lila, whose mouth was opening and closing wordlessly. "Because she had gotten what she wanted out of it, also known as the fake Fox Miraculous that she had just bought from a Gabriel shop."

"Which, I might add, she tried to pass off as the real Fox Miraculous right away," Adrien chimed in from next to her. "And that necklace was the same one that she said was from her grandmother and she claimed that Marinette stole."

"And, if that isn't enough, Mrs. Rossi thought that Lila was staying home because the school was closed due to an extended akuma attack," Marinette finished, a smirk flashing across her face at the look of pure panic that flashed across Lila's face. Clearly she had thought that Marinette was bluffing about meeting her mother."Because Lila told her that the principal was akumatized and therefore the school was closed." Against her better judgment, Marinette's eyes flashed towards Alya for a moment. "How's that for research and evidence, hmmm?"

"I- no-" Lila attempted, clearly scrambling to pull herself together. "That is- a misrepresentation of what- Marinette is just making things up, she's just jealous and bitter that I didn't let her bully me-"

"I have video evidence, Lila," Marinette told her, using her best cold, no-nonsense, I-am-a-superhero-and-you-WILL-listen-to-me voice. She could see several people shrink back, intimidated. "And an entire pile of evidence to disprove your other lies. And..." She reached into her bag for her final folder, opening it up and pulling out another packet before striding over to Lila and slapping it down on the desk in front of her. "A lawsuit against you, for slander with malicious intent."

"But Lila can't get in trouble with the law," Max protested from the back of the room. "She has diplomatic immunity because of her mother."

Marinette smirked at that. Lila was really wilting now. "Top diplomats might get diplomatic immunity for their families, sure. But the secretary for the ambassador certainly doesn't get immunity for her family."

There were gasps at that.

"Additionally, diplomatic immunity can be waived by the family member or the home country even if it did apply," Mr. Bernard announced, stepping into the classroom. "Which we have seen before, and if it had applied in this case, I'm sure we would see it again."

"Who are you?" Ms. Bustier asked, stepping forward. "This all seems like a lot of disruption, we are a school-"

"I am a truancy officer, and Ms. Rossi here is in quite a bit of trouble. Skipping multiple months of school is definitely grounds for punishment, particularly when I suspect that she forged her mother's signature on the school leave forms." Mr. Bernard flashed a doubtful look at Ms. Bustier. "If, of course, there was even an attempt at following procedure in that case."

Ms. Bustier flushed. "We- we were told it was a very last-minute trip, and that Mrs. Rossi was quite busy, and we wanted to be accommodating, so we waited until after the return to really push for ..."

"Procedure is not optional. It is there for a reason, to keep things like this from happening." Mr. Bernard did not look impressed, but he jerked his chin at Lila. "Ms. Rossi. Your mother has been contacted and is on her way. Collect your things at once."

Lila glanced around frantically, rather like a cornered rabbit, but all of her classmates were glaring at her. Slowly, she gathered up her things, picking up the lawsuit notice last, and then headed out after Mr. Bernard, dragging her feet the entire way.

There was a pause.

"It- well, it seems as though I owe you an apology, Marinette," Ms. Bustier finally said, sinking back into her seat. "I should have looked into things more thoroughly instead of letting them slide. I'll get your expulsion wiped off of your record at once, and you can return right away."

"Actually, I won't be returning to Francois-Dupont," Marinette informed her, ignoring the gasps from the class in favor of fishing out the last of her forms and setting it on Ms. Bustier's desk. "My parents don't think that the environment here is conducive to my learning experience, and they don't trust that there will be enough change in the remainder of the year to satisfy them."

Ms. Bustier reached across the desk for the form at once, her eyes going wide as she took in the top page. It was another lawsuit, this one against the school for not following proper procedure for expulsion and for failing to protect their students from a bully.

Marinette had been a little unsure about the last bit, but the school board had pointed out that, had any of the teachers looked into things, Mr. Bourgeois didn't actually have the power to punish the school for properly disciplining Chloe, and even if they couldn't be bothered to look that much up, they at the very least could have separated Chloe and Marinette into different homerooms instead of placing them together for so many years in a row. It wouldn't have been possible to place them in different classrooms every year- after all, Chloe bullied everyone- but getting a break every other year shouldn't have been too much to expect.

Having adults standing up to Chloe instead of leaving students to do that themselves shouldn't have been too much to expect, either.

"I'll be rejoining the class for lycée, but not before," Marinette added, because she could hear Rose starting to sniffle. "And I can hang out with you guys whenever, but my parents aren't at all happy with the administration here."

Rose managed a small smile when Marinette glanced her way, nodding in understanding.

"Speaking of people being unhappy with the administration, we need to speak to you, Ms. Bustier," Madam Rochefort announced, sticking her head through the door. She stepped aside to let the substitute teacher who they had brought in. "We'll go to Mr. Damocles' office, if you could."

Ms. Bustier nodded, even paler as she followed Madam Rochefort out. Marinette took that as her cue to leave as well, tucking her empty folder back into her bag and taking it back from Adrien. He was smiling at her, proud and a little sad at the same time.

"We'll miss seeing you during class," Adrien murmured in her ear as he slid Marinette's bag over her head, arranging it at her side before pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head. "But I know I'll visit as often as I can. For both the company and the food."

"Our door is always open for you," Marinette promised, trying not to flush and probably failing. Adrien was too cute for her blood pressure sometimes. "And you have my number, too. If you want to come over during lunch, too, you can."

Adrien perked up at that as he escorted her to the door. "I might end up never leaving if you keep inviting me over, just so you know."

Marinette giggled. As though she would actually ever complain about that. "We'll make up a bed for you."

"Very tempting." Adrien smiled at her, then glanced back into the classroom. The substitute teacher was looking back at him. "I have to go, but see you later?"

"Of course." With a final wave, Marinette stepped back, watching Adrien head back into the classroom before turning herself and heading back out of the school. She was by herself now, the school board members and lawyer and truancy officer all busy, but that didn't matter. She had done what she had come to school to do. The expulsion would be wiped from Marinette's record, and the faculty at Dupont would be given the help and training they needed to be far better teachers for the next set of students to come through and all of the students after them, too. On top of that, Lila had been taken down, her following gone and her reputation in shatters. With any luck, she would be removed from Paris entirely in order to keep her from getting akumatized again.

Hopefully her next set of teachers would be given a heads-up about Lila's tendency to make up stories so that no one else would have to go through the same thing that Marinette just had.

Humming to herself, Marinette paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. She had taken down one schoolyard bully and made life in Paris just that little bit better for everyone.

And now that that was over... well, now that she had more free time, she could turn her attention to a much bigger target. Hawkmoth had better beware, because before long, Ladybug was going to be on his case.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Pants on Fire

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suntrastar · 4 years

Text

abstract: chapter 2

chapter 1!! chapter 3!! you can also find this fic on ao3 :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word Count: 7500 exactly. i am so lame.

Author’s note: hello!! when i was uploading ch 1 on here it never once crossed my mind that i should probably add ch 2 as well ... but oh well! it’s here now. hope u all like it. reblogs and likes and whatever else are very much appreciated. also i forgot to say last time- i paint a little but i am NOT a professional artist! i’m making all of this up as i go! if i’m wrong with something do NOT tell me. shh. but ok now enjoy!!

A blank canvas stands before you, as big as your torso and propped up on an easel. White, unmarked, clean- pristine and teeming with potential.

You hate it.

In your lap sits your sketchbook. Pages upon pages of rough, half-baked ideas, each more mediocre than the last. You thought that maybe you could churn something decent out if you came to your studio, soaked in enough of the atmosphere to coax out some sort of productivity.

Well, you were wrong. It’s the opposite- the empty canvas is slowing your thoughts down, muddling them together, disorienting you.

You stare at it for the better part of an hour, white searing into your vision, shoulders sagging with each passing minute.

There’s something there. You have something, a rough chunk of an idea in the back of your mind that could be great, but you can’t figure out what it is. And it’s not something you can just google- you can’t search up how to think a thought you haven’t had yet- so you sit on your own, unproductivity festering, oozing out like the orange from the skylights.

You’re not doing too well. The sun sets before it’s five, it’s Monday, you have a fifth adult class to teach, yesterday you only got to a third of your chores. It sucks- you should be better than this! Put-together, neat, confident, creative, actually able to do something.

You wallow freely, feeling no satisfaction when you reach forward and push the side of the canvas with one finger, tipping it off the easel and sending it clattering to the floor.

The warmth of the sun burns into your back. You don’t like wasting time like this, never have. Maybe you needed to, though, to help get you back on track.

You heave out a sigh and crack too many joints as you stand up, folding up your easel, picking up the dreaded canvas, shoving your sketchbook into your purse. The drawing pencils you set out on the table are neatly lined back up into their metal tin, the kneadable eraser kneaded for a few frustrating seconds before it’s put back as well.

You zip your coat all the way up to your chin. It’s still freezing outside, and the walk from your studio to the subway, from the subway to the other studio, is always a cold one.

***

At least you can move on from the watercolors.

Oil pastels! Still not a very desirable medium, but for today, you’ll take it. At least it’s saturated, at least you don’t have to worry about the whole thing coming apart with a spare drop of water. The way it stains your fingers and blends unpredictably is kind of charming, too.

You run through your demonstrations. You gesture to where the paper is located. You make a few suggestions for what people could draw: trees, landscapes, birds. Then you remember a box of handheld mirrors the studio owner keeps in one of the storage closets, and run over to get it.

“You can use them for self portraits,” you say, and then a particular man in the back scowls, and then you add that it’s optional.

But Steve takes two mirrors.

You don’t have time to analyze all of that. You walk around, offer a few words of advice. Shonna lays the preliminary sketch for a heron, and you’ve never seen grey and yellow look so nice together. Your favorite couple, Marcie and Ahmed, draw each other, but neither of them can draw. They laugh at themselves as they misshape each other’s noses, miscalculate the distance between each other’s eyes.

It’s cute. You stop at them and laugh a little, before continuing your round to the back of the room, to Steve and Bucky.

“Everything working out okay?” You say, while Steve frowns into a mirror.

“I feel kind of stuck-up doing this,” Steve says, and brings the mirror even closer to his face, right up to his eyes.

You laugh a little. “Don’t worry,” you say, and peer down at his sketch, which is already looking uncannily like him. “It looks just like you! You even got the nose right.”

Steve nods, still bothered by the apparent narcissism of this activity. He pulls a peach pastel from the set. “I guess,” he says, unconvinced, and streaks the pastel over the side of his drawn face, and you quietly marvel over how well he understands shadow. “Are you okay?”

The question catches you off guard.

“What?”

Steve sets his mirror down.

Next to him, Bucky glowers at you, like he wasn’t smiling at your bad jokes in the cafe, like, two days ago. He’s so vehement- you’re starting to think that you dreamt up the entire encounter.

“You look kind of stressed,” Steve says, and then winces. “Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, and hesitate for a second, before thinking what the hell, and deciding to just let it out. “I am stressed. I’m so stressed- Steve, I’m, like, this close to losing it.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

He’s so sincere. Always so nice, and you don't even care that Bucky’s glare deepens when you pull out the seat and sit down in it, because you are dying to tell someone.

“I have this show in the summer,” you say, and clench your hands, because just the thought of the show makes you want to wring your own neck, “but I still have no idea what to do. I mean, I do, but it’s like, I have point A and point B, but I don’t have the line connecting it. Does that make sense?”

“What are the points?” Steve asks, and takes up the mirror again, to analyze the lower portion of his face.

“Okay,” you say, and lean back in your seat, and maybe it’s a little unprofessional, but you’re cool enough that it really isn’t, “Point A is that I want everything to be busy. Lots of patterns and fabric and plants. Like, I don’t want there to be any resting space for your eyes, because that’s boring. And point B is that I want to use people- and this is where the problem comes in, because I don’t know what people to use.”

You’re talking kind of fast, but Steve seems to still be understanding what you’re saying. “Why not?”

“Because I want it to be personal. For my previous stuff, I would just post ads on Instagram whenever I needed models, and take pictures of random people and paint them. But I don’t want to do that again, but I don’t know what I want to do. I want people to look at the people and say ‘wow, that’s personal,’ but I don't want them to be able to tell how personal it is. Like, personal at an arm’s length.

Steve stares at you like you have definitely lost it.

You pointedly don’t look at Bucky.

Then he reconsiders, and gives you a supportive little smile, and you can feel your stomach sinking further and further down.

“I don’t fully understand that,” he says, and reaches not for the orange or red pastel, but the pale blue one. “But I’m sure you’ll get it. Just give it some time.”

You watch him outline his chin, the left side of his nose, little strokes of his eyebrows. Blue and leaving little smears and flakes of color, and creating this swirling pattern with one of the streaks of peach, like ocean and sand upon each other, so pretty and bold.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, and he grins into his mirror, still adding blue. It looks amazing. “Also, would you ever consider switching careers? The art world is missing out on you.”

He blushes.

“Use people you know.”

You and Steve turn fast to look at Bucky, still glaring. His red oil pastel, held tight in his gloved hand, looks ready to snap.

At least you’re sitting diagonally from him, instead of directly across. At least you don’t back down from looking him in the eye.

“For what?” you say, like you aren’t following, even though you are- you just have a feeling that he won’t tell you what he’s thinking unless you ask for it.

“For your painting thing,” he says. “Because it’s personal. To you.”

You stare at him like he’s crazy for a second or two, and he looks into his own mirror, set flat on the tabletop, without peering at his face. You glance over at his paper, at half a page full of perfectly identical red boxes, and realize that he’s drawing the ceiling panels.

Okay- lame.

But also, like, funny.

Then it starts to click.

“Wait,” you say, and you feel bashful, because he’s been listening to you this whole time, and in his silence he must have been thinking of you, and the thought of that is just too satisfying for you to let go of. He’s been thinking of you.

Or maybe he just wants you to leave.

“That works,” you say, and then you suddenly have the connecting line. “That works perfectly. It’s, like, not personal, but…”

“Familiar,” Bucky says, and you are half a red box away from leaning over the table and throwing yourself into his arms.

That’s exactly it.

“Thank you,” you say, and your brain is running a mile a minute, and he’s just staring at you. “Thank you so much. That’s exactly it, oh my god.”

You don’t even realize how far you’ve leaned over, hands balanced on the table, craning your head towards him. And you don’t even care- pieces are shifting and everything makes sense, and the weather outside isn’t cold, it’s beautiful! And this class is wonderful. Bucky himself is wonderful.

You float through the rest of the class. The clarity of your thoughts is jarring, the way you understand what you’re trying to do now. Flowers, fabric, and then you have an idea with a pair of earrings. You ache for a pen and sheet of paper to write it all down, but if you started doing it now, you don’t think you would be able to get up once the class ends.

Once, you smile at Bucky. He doesn’t return it- and you’re too in over your head to care.

***

He’s not genuinely interested.

This is a precaution. Bucky takes lots of precautions- he sleeps with weapons at his bedside, goes out with knives strapped to his body, always sweeps unfamiliar rooms before sitting, doesn’t tell anyone anything. This is just another thing thrown on top of his already exhausted routine, necessary to his safety and sanity and-

To his basic peace of mind.

He’s not a very good typer, so he asks JARVIS to look it all up instead, and transfer it to his overpriced, Stark-issued laptop.

There’s relief in that action itself- he tells JARVIS the wrong name twice, because that’s how personally disinterested he is. So disinterested that even something as simple as a name eludes him.

He doesn’t care.

The information gets transferred to his laptop. Bucky takes his time, carefully scanning the screen, preparing to tuck away anything concerning, for future reference.

There is a lot of information.

Articles- too many articles. Editorials, interviews, reviews. And pictures, and even videos, and he wonders if Steve ever brought this up to him, this level of renown that apparently you possess, and Bucky just wasn’t paying attention. But no, that couldn’t have been true- he’s been genetically enhanced to always be paying attention.

He’s a slow reader, and whenever the fonts are too small it gives him a headache, so rather than reading an article, he goes to the pictures tab.

Your art shows up first. He clicks on the picture to enlarge it, and it takes a long while for him to fully comprehend what he’s seeing.

A woman dancing with a cow in the background, a woman with butterflies on her eyelashes. Two men wearing crowns of pearls, but when he zooms in closer, they’re birds. A figure in a dress, wearing sleeves that resemble fish, with a halo of koi fish circling her head. Everything has to do with animals, and there’s so much movement, and he doesn’t like art, but he does have to admit that it’s all so pretty.

And there’s lots of yellow.

And as he scrolls further down, there’s pictures of you. In some, you stand with people who look ridiculously pretentious, with weird hair and odd clothes and thick-framed glasses. Other artists, he guesses, who have to let everyone know that they’re artists before they even open their mouths.

Then there’s pictures of just yourself. You, unsmiling next to a half-finished canvas, in the middle of twirling a paintbrush between your fingers. You, unsmiling in a white-walled photography studio. You, smiling while wearing a ridiculous sequined dress, which confuses him until he reads the description, and learns that the dress itself is an art installation.

It makes his head hurt.

He looks some more, even though he’s not really learning anything. Or maybe he is learning, just nothing concerning like he was hoping for. Something that would justify this search in the first place, but all he’s found is that you have pretentious colleagues and wear ridiculous dresses and deserve Steve’s admiration the way you’ve been receiving it.

Eventually, he coaxes himself into clicking a link. An article with a big publication, too big for just an art instructor- but you’re not just an art instructor. you’re, like, good. The article is an interview, which could have just been recorded and uploaded, but for some reason, it was transcribed and written in article format anyway.

The twenty-first century is stupid like that.

When it was written, you had just had your first solo exhibition, and it was more successful than anybody ever anticipated. The interview is meant to be a little off-the-wall, charmingly eccentric, asking about favorite foods and then your future aspirations in the same sequence, and then debating different colors and some political situation within the same question.

Bucky stumbles through a paragraph or two, not really comprehending anything but getting the gist, and his head hurts more, but he’s blissfully relieved of it all when Steve barges into his room without knocking.

He shuts his laptop screen so hard that the screen nearly cracks.

“Woah,” Steve says, and puts a hand up, but doesn’t take any steps back. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky says, and stares at the laptop with fury, as if he’ll be able to close the tab that was still open through telekinesis alone.

“O-kay,” Steve says, totally unconvinced. He hoists the bag on his shoulder- his gear bag, with his supplies. He’s headed out for an indefinite period of time, anywhere between three days and two weeks. In the bag is his suit, in its patriotic spandex glory, his other supplies, bandages and a gun and a sketchbook.

To pass the time, if he gets bored on the flight.

“Are you leaving now?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods his head. “Yeah. Just came to say bye.”

“You mean see you later,” Bucky corrects, because those two things mean different things, and the difference is enough to matter to him.

“See you later,” Steve says, and he shifts, one massive wall of muscle leaning from one foot to the other. He’s uncertain of something- like Bucky can’t handle himself on his own.

He can handle himself.

Bucky lifts one silver hand and waves.

***

He doesn’t need to go.

Steve hasn’t returned, still somewhere in South America, away on a mission. It’s not like anyone is going to check, either, if he attends or not. It’s not like this is required, like he has some sort of moral or contractual obligation to show up.

Still, it’s become part of his routine, and deviating from routine makes his skin itch. As Monday strikes again, he slides into his seat in the art studio. At least he’s not too early; he doesn't know how he would be able to handle any pre-class conversation without Steve being there to do the actual conversating.

You start right on time. Always so prompt.

“We’re going to be working with oil pastels again,” you say, and make a big gesture with your hands. You wear chunky gold earrings that wink under the lights. “But I’m going to let you do whatever you want. Draw whatever. I’ve got out a few different types of paper, and some different tools for creating textures- I’ll show you all how to use them really quick.”

You scrape a sheet of paper hastily colored purple with something that looks like a plastic knife. Then you use something that looks like a plastic-toothed comb, and then some other pointy plastic objects to make lines and whirls on the paper. Texture. He watches the paper, some, but mostly you.

You look over at him two times. No more than you do at anyone else, but he still notices- as a precaution.

“Okay, I'm done. You all can get to work,” you say, and set the purple sheet down on your own table, at the front. “Have fun. Get crazy with it.”

Bucky looks down at the paper he’s set on the table, yellow-white and slightly textured. He looks at the oil pastels, sitting so dejectedly in their little cardboard dish, a product of low budget and disuse.

He takes the yellow one.

You come over to his table some time later, after getting to everyone else. He’s always last, he’s noticed- because he sits at the back, and because you like to take your time talking with Steve. But Steve isn’t here today, which means you won’t linger, which means he can continue on sitting in peace.

“How’s it going?” You ask. One of your hands comes to rest on top of the chair across from him.

“Your shoe is untied.”

Your smile falters as you look down, at your red sneaker- you wear hot red sneakers- but reaffirms itself a second later as you slide the chair out, and prop your foot up on it.

Bucky suddenly feels off. Your knee rests slightly above his head, and your head is tucked down but still looming high over him, cast in shadow. He’s beneath- under. And you’re double-knotting the laces of your shoe.

“Thanks,” you say, and it’s awkward to thank someone for something so little, but you don’t say it like it’s awkward. “I probably would’ve tripped on the laces. Anyways, again, how’s it going?”

He considers the question. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you repeat. You take your foot off the chair and tuck it back in, and then lean- loom even more- over him, looking over at his piece of paper.

He glares at you, even though you’re not looking at him.

“Wow,” you say, and your eyebrows are creasing, and he thinks that you’re struggling to come up with something to say, and after seeing those paintings online, he can’t even take offense at it. “Those lines are so… straight. How are they so straight?”

Because his metal hand has an internal stabilizer.

“They just are,” he says.

You look at him. Everything suddenly feels stuttered and slow, drenched in honey. He’s expecting some type of joke, and praying for the ground to open and swallow him up, bury him under six feet of tile. Has silence always been this unbearable?

“Awesome,” you say.

Then you look away and he’s able to breathe again, and you’re turning away, ready to flounce back over to someone else. He looks back down at his paper and picks up the pastel again, fingers pressing over the paper wrapper, so that he doesn’t get anything on his glove. He draws another straight line.

“Wait, one more thing.”

You turn around and his head snaps up, fully alarmed.

You take in his expression and look like you’re about to laugh. But you stifle it back, bite on your lip as you pull the chair back out again and sit down, across from him. Steve isn’t even here- Steve isn’t even your motivation for being here, today, and all he’s thinking about is you in that ridiculous art installation of a dress.

Floor-length. V-neck.

“So,” you say, and Bucky can’t look at you. In his peripheral vision he sees you curl your hands together, resting on top of the table. The glass on the watch flashes. “So, you know the idea that you gave me last week? With painting people I know? I started this painting of my mom- and all of these ideas in my head make sense to me now- wait. Let me show you, first.”

He keeps his eyes dutifully trained on his paper. Still, he can hear the smile in your voice as you pull your phone out of your back pocket, tapping away at something before turning the screen around for him to see.

Your arm is stretched all the way across the table. Bucky leans in a little bit, to see the picture you’ve pulled up.

A partially painted image of a woman that looks like you but not you, with almost the same face as you, but with hands mottled with age and a mouth starting to droop at the corners. Your mom, apparently, sitting with her hands clasped the way you’re clasping yours. She wears earrings that look like huge flowers, lilies, or something, and in a white dress that looks halfway like a swirled illusion.

“Nice,” he says, grudgingly, and you keep your hand outstretched. He wonders if you want him to take the phone from you, if you’re waiting for him to say more. “I like the dress.”

You beam at him. He’s been looking at you without realizing. “Thank you. I actually got the idea or the pattern from Steve- I’m just stealing ideas, aren’t I- but did you see the thing he did with his self-portrait last week? The swirls? It was so pretty- I couldn’t help myself. Anyways, where is he today?”

“Out of town.”

Dread curls at the pit of his stomach.

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he has the heavy, stone-cold realization that he does not want to be talking about Steve right now.

It must show, because you’re in the middle of opening your mouth to say something, and then abruptly close it.

“Oh,” you say, and you shift. He realizes that he doesn’t want you to leave yet, either. “Nice.”

You’re getting out of your seat. You must be feeling it too, the heaviness, the atmosphere so overwrought with polite dislike, because he still doesn’t like you, even though he knows your name now, but-

“What’s your next painting going to be?” he asks, so quickly that it comes off as a little frantic.

Your eyes widen and you’re carried back down, drifting back into your seat.

“I’m so glad you asked that,” you say, as you settle in. For a second, you’re frighteningly put together, shoulders straight, hands neatly folded, earrings glinting. “I’ve been wanting to tell someone about it so bad.”

You want your next painting to be of your dad. A portrait of just his face, close enough to add little, inconsequential details. You have this idea where you create patterns that look like flowers out of his wrinkles. He has teeth that are always yellow, because he drinks so much coffee, you say, a habit you’ve picked up, but you want to paint them almost neon, bring as much attention to it as you can. His hair is thinning and you want to make it all blue, like a receding tide.

It devolves, and his grip on the pastel loosens as you fall into something more and more jumbled, divulging other ideas you have, about things that aren’t directly related. You want to go big- much larger than life. A canvas as big as your body, just to paint a head. You make your own canvases, too, and you show him your palms, skin beneath your fingers raised and bumpy, with a ropy pink scar on your right hand. It’s from an incident with a saw, you say, even though you know your way around a saw. He almost wants to touch it.

Bucky thinks of his own right hand, with as many scars as it has lines. What does that mean, in terms of fate? He knows his way around a saw, too, and many other bigger, dangerous things, but you don’t know or don’t care about it. It devolves further, you sink lower in your seat, shoulders curving forward, and you’re telling him something else about nothing, and you aren’t minding that he’s mostly focused on just listening.

You’re laughing when someone behind you clears their throat.

You turn back, to see Shonna, looking uncomfortable as she fiddles with the strap of her purse.

“I’ve got to go,” she says, and, for whatever reason, gives you a look. “I finished my drawing, so I’m taking it with me. See you next week.”

“Have a good night!” You say, and cast a spare glance at your watch, to see how early she’s leaving.

She’s not leaving early.

You’re running nearly twelve minutes over.

“Oh my god,” you say, quietly, and pull away from Bucky. You have to pull this back together, quickly, you stand up and clear your throat.

“Hey, everybody,” you say, and so many people older than you turn to look at you, but the situation you’ve put yourself in doesn’t let you appreciate the thrill of it. “I wasn’t paying attention- we’re running past time. You all can go ahead and head out. I’ll clean up today. I’m sorry.”

Bucky is ignored, and it’s funny how quickly you’re able to slip away from him, him and unrelenting blue eyes and a stoic silence to bounce all of your thoughts off of. You keep your back to him and head back to the front of the room, standing and exchanging pleasantries as everyone heads out, apologizing with smiles and chastising yourself for being so careless.

Nobody berates you, though. You keep on expecting them to. There’s a sudden, sharp pain in the back of your neck. They all leave, and then it’s just you, standing by the entrance and staring at all the tables you have to clean, all the unfinished art projects you have to slide on the art racks, alongside the sticky poster-painted houses and clouds and corner-suns drawn by the kids in your Wednesday and Thursday classes.

All by yourself.

Or not.

Bucky lingers, putting his pastels back in the tray. He’s so silent that you missed him the first time, even though he was standing right there. Isn’t he some type of spy?

“Bucky, I got it,” you call. Without anyone in the room, it's like everything you just said to him didn’t happen. There’s no buffer and it’s just you and just him, and it's so empty. “You don’t have to clean up.”

Something in his gorgeous face shifts. You wish he was a little more expressive. His eyes hang dark underneath the brim of his dorky hat.

“I can help you,” he says, and adds, after an impossibly long second of hesitation, “I’ll make sure you don’t break any jars.”

You laugh out loud, but you’re confused. First listening to you talk on and on, now offering to help you and trying to make a joke- he doesn’t like you enough to be doing any of it.

You know you like him, or at least find him intriguing enough to disregard his douchiness, but, like, still. Something’s off.

But then again, how do you deny him after that joke?

“Thank you,” you say, so formally, and you want to grimace. “That’s really nice of you.”

He blinks slowly, and you think that he’s going to smile, catch a ghost of it in his eyes.

It vanishes too fast, as he slides the cover back on the tray of sad oil pastels. You’re about to make some cynical comment about the lack of funding for the arts, just so there’s something to occupy all this new space between you and him, so you don’t accidentally lessen the space by doing something dumb, like moving closer to him.

“Where do I put these?” He asks, holding the sad tray up.

***

Steve returns for the seventh Monday class! You’re so happy when he walks in through the doors, abandoning your stacks of paper and speed-walking toward with a smile and a bouquet of paintbrushes.

“Hey, Steve!” you say, and he spooks, a little, but relaxes when he sees it’s you. No Rina today- she’s been leaving early lately. Maybe there’s some residual fear in her, just from that stare she was subjected to, all those weeks ago. “It’s good to see you.”

You get those stares every week, multiple times an hour, are getting one right this second- she needs to get over it.

He smiles and comes further into the classroom, meeting you over one of the tables. “It’s good to see you, too. Sorry I missed class last week.”

You wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. Here, take these for a second.”

In his massive hands, the paintbrushes look silly. Like dandelion stems, but it’s Steve, so he holds them gingerly, at a distance, like the wood might snap if he applies even the tiniest bit of pressure.

It’s not a good thought that you have next- it’s a deplorable thought- but you wonder if all super-soldiers have hands like that.

Behind Steve, there’s Bucky, standing in his usual black ensemble and glower. You know, now, that if you asked him to help, he would, but your mouth suddenly goes gummy and you trail off to the shelves instead, talking yourself up as you try to find a container for the brushes.

There, on the top shelf. How did it get all the way up there? You swipe it off and turn around, cheery and hopefully composed enough to not let any of your deplorable thoughts slip, and-

He’s there.

Not there, not all up in your face the way you would not want him to be, but closer, next to Steve instead of behind. His cheeks are rosy. You look out the window, to see if it looks cold. His face is pink, but he looks cold. Winter Soldier. You’re running hot, hot, hot.

“Hey,” You say, and politely smile, like while cleaning up last week, you didn’t spend an extra twenty minutes just talking to him.

“Hey,” he says, and does nothing, like the impassive brick he always is.

God.

You can’t be like this. This isn’t… it’s not cute. It’s embarrassing.

“Help me find the palettes,” you tell him, and place the container on the table for Steve. “I’ve been looking for them, for, like, ten minutes, and I can’t find them. And we’re painting today, so we need palettes.”

Steve dumps the brushes into the container. Bucky nods. He understands the importance of the palettes.

“Okay,” he says, and in the time it takes you to turn back to the shelves, he’s already standing behind you, surveying the shelves with you. Steve is probably giving you a look- he and Bucky seem like the kind of friends that tell each other all of their feelings, paint each other’s nails and read each other's diaries- he probably knows what’s going on.

If he does, you would like for him to tell you. All you know is that you’re really liking this.

Bucky finds the box of palettes wedged in the back of one of the shelves, in between thick pads of watercolor paper and glass cases of craft knives.

“Thank you,” you say, as he hands the box to you, as his fingertips just barely brush against yours. “Thank you so much.”

You catch another ghost-smile. “You’re so welcome,” he says.

Behind Bucky’s back, Steve gawks at you in disbelief.

Acrylic paint- the love of your life.

“It’s best for me to just let you guys loose,” you say, in your spot at the front of the room. Even now, your hands are itching, humming with energy, humming for a paintbrush. “If you need help, ask me, of course, but it’s more fun to just try and see what you can do.”

That’s part of why you love it- for its ease. Quick-drying, not water-soluble once dried, saturated. What is there even to explain? That you apply it with a brush? That you can blend with it? All of that is, like, obvious. All of it can be learned from trial, and any error can just be painted over.

Expression is so simple, with acrylic paint.

It’s messier, too, but nobody’s perfect.

You walk around. Shonna sketches out more birds- finches, yellow and mid-flight. Marcie and Ahmed start by painting without sketching first- one going for a sunset, the other palm trees. Classic. You catch a few others, silhouettes, some flowers, some abstract paint splatters.

Then, of course, you head to the back.

Steve is something out. You can’t tell what it is, yet, but you know that it's going to be beautiful. It’s already beautiful. He looks up and gives you a wordless smile, then gets right back to work. One of his hands is splayed over the sheet of chipboard, the other drawing quick, light lines with his pencil.

You wish that you could give them canvas. But canvas is expensive, and again- funding is bad, and you want to save the few you’ve scrounged up for one of the later classes, when everyone is more confident in their abilities.

Bucky mixes paint on his palette. Red and… black.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say, nodding down at the sad maroon. He looks up at you and you ball your hands into fists, placing them on your hips, not because you put your hands on your hips, but because you feel like you should be doing that right now, with how he’s looking at you. Gutting you.

He acknowledges you with a nod, and goes back to mixing the colors.

Good grief, how much more is he going to mix?

You’re suddenly searching your mind for something interesting to say.

It’s awkward, and you’re even more mad at yourself- how can you be awkward in your own class? You’re so off today. Even Steve is solely focused on his canvas, and you’re happy for it- he’s drawing and really getting into it, but now you have no reason to linger!

You stay, for another awkward, insufferable second, before moving on to somewhere else.

It’s whatever. You want to think about it, but you push it out because there’s so many more important things to consider- like the painting of your mom nearly finished in your studio, the sketched-out canvas of your father, the dozens of other little ideas pushing up through the cracks in your thoughts, like delightful weeds.

You want to paint Rina. If her hair is still red when you see her, you’ll draw her upside down with poppies, wearing whatever crazy outfit she wants. You want to paint another friend, who’s constantly travelling but might be in New York next month, draped in gold jewelry and marigolds. You might even- you might even draw a few people you don’t talk to anymore, or people you don’t talk to enough, draw them with pansies and chrysanthemums.

Flowers. First, you were fixated on animals, but now it’s flowers- but it’s wholly unsymbolic, because symbolism gets trite, and you just want to make something that looks pretty.

Nobody asks you for help. Acrylic is fun like that- it’s a medium where you can help yourself. The class gets loud- lively, even, and you just sit in your chair at your table and take it all in.

Bucky, in the far back, works on his painting with concentration that rivals Steve’s. You look for too long.

He can probably feel your eyes on him. You wonder if you should look him up, but that’s weird. Really weird, and what would you even search for? A Wikipedia article? Pictures? An interview?

Maybe you should, but you like the hot-and-cold mystery just how it is.

The class ends on time. You’re extra vigilant today, showing people how to lay their paintings on the drying racks, showing them where to dump their paint water.

You say that you’ll wash the brushes. Bucky can tell that you don’t trust anyone else to do it properly. You say that you’ll wipe down the tables, too, and you’ll move all the supplies back to the shelves. All you want is for everyone to put their paintings away and wash their palettes.

The work is done, and everyone files out, spurred by you wishing them all a good week. Steve lingers, as usual, and Bucky follows behind him.

You didn’t talk to him that much, today.

“Did you figure out your painting yet?” Steve asks.

“I did,” you say, and tell him exactly what you told Bucky, but more clearly, more well-articulated.

And less… elaborate. No talking about the idea for the second painting, no mentions of the canvases you make yourself. You don’t show him your palm.

Steve chats with you for a few minutes, until the conversation fizzles out. He shifts his shoulders and tells you he’s going to go.

“Have a good week,” you say, smiling, looking back at Bucky.

Steve gets to the doorway, and Bucky stays right where he is, and his stomach does a flip, because he can’t believe that he’s really going to be doing this.

“You coming, Buck?” Steve says.

“I’m going to stay back for a minute,” Bucky says, while looking at you.

He’s not a confident person, but he’s also not not confident. He just does what he has to do, without thinking, without sitting on it long enough for it to morph into anxiety, because when you've been impassive for seventy years, it’s hard to turn the faucet back on.

Right now, though, he might be getting what they call butterflies.

“Why, is there something you-”

Steve cuts himself off. He understands.

“Nevermind,” he says, backtracking. “Okay. See you later.”

He leaves.

“What’s up?” You ask, as you head over to the sink. You’re so nonchalant, and he doesn’t know if he’s resenting it or grateful for it, so he just watches you pull cleaning supplies from the cabinet underneath. “Are you here to help me clean up?”

No, but he’ll do it, if...

“Yeah.”

You reach out and rip a wad of paper towels from the dispenser.

“Great,” you say, and he’s just thinking, No, this is not great. You hand him a spray bottle and the paper towels. “Wipe down the tables, please. I’m going to get started with these brushes.”

He starts to wipe down the tables.

You get the sink running.

The streaks of paint on the tables haven't dried yet, so it all comes off with no effort. He gets through it all pretty quickly, one table after another.

Then he’s at your shoulder, tossing the wad of paper towels in the trash, setting the spray bottle precariously on the sink’s edge, since your legs are in front of the cabinet.

What else could he do? Sweep? Turn off the lights? He doesn’t know if you would trust him to do either of those things. He could close the blinds, but the sky is in transition, from grey to blue to ink, and he likes the way the dark seeps into the room.

It sets up the atmosphere.

You give him a quick smile, rub your thumb over the bristles of another brush. “That was fast.”

He shrugs.

It’s a dead conversation- he’s not used to this. Maybe he should be chatting you up, but he doesn’t chat people up, ever. You’re supposed to be the one that talks first, says something for him to go off of. He’s not good at this, but he suddenly wishes that he was.

“Cleaning brushes is such a painful process,” you say eventually, trying to sound exasperated, even though you’re clearly not. “Takes forever- oh, wait. Not painful, paint-ful. Get it? ”

He gets it.

“You’re funny,” he says, and it’s not much, but it’s something. He wants to laugh but doesn't.

You add another brush to the growing pile of clean ones, laying on a bed of paper towels. The sink water drains slowly, dirty grey-brown.

“I know,” you say. “But anyways, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Is Bucky your real name?”

The fuck?

You’re genuinely asking, brows drawn close together. He wants to reach out and smoothen it. And also tug the strings of your apron loose, and hook a finger inside the hoop of your earring. He’s wanting to do lots of things- all crazy, irrational things.

“No,” he says, and he sounds weird saying it, when all that’s weird is you having asked in the first place. Your frame of reference for him is so poor- which is better for him, better for everything. It’s almost flattering. “It’s a nickname.”

You open your mouth for the next question, but he beats you to it.

“My real name is James.”

You abruptly look over at him in disbelief. “No way. Really?”

“Really.”

You’re on the last brush. You run it under the tap and the bristles send streams of purplish paint water over your fingers, and turn your head, looking over at him. He meets you back, glare icy, even though inside, he’s burning up.

“You don’t look like a James,” you say, and grin at him, and keep yourself looking at him as you finally shut off the sink.

He knows he doesn’t- that’s why he doesn’t go by it. But he’s going to indulge you, because he wants to.

“Don’t look much like a Bucky, either.”

“It’s a cute nickname, though,” you say suddenly.

His heart leaps to his throat.

“You think it’s cute,” he says, and he shifts over and leans, against the wall, crossing his arms. He’s been standing too close, feels so unnaturally light. He can’t even pretend to dislike you anymore, not when you use the word cute to describe him, not when he likes it. Not when your name is rattling through his head over and over, a mile a minute.

“It’s so cute” you start, nodding along to yourself, “It’s like… nevermind. I don’t even remember what I was about to tell you. Can I get your number?”

That was not smooth.

At all.

But it still works, doesn’t it? You’re not trying too hard, so he doesn’t have to try too hard, either.

“Yeah,” he says, and smiles at you- and takes extra satisfaction in the way you light up. Yellow and radiant.

“Okay.” You wipe your hands down on your apron before pulling out your phone. Its case is glittery pink. The tips of your fingers have pruned.

Before, this would have all been so easy. Bucky could have you beside him the day he met you, turned you over in a whirlwind, in a flurry of milkshakes and dancing to music nobody listens to anymore. He wonders if he should miss you- and then tries to imagine you in a red lip, peroxided curls and a modest day dress, and gets the answer for himself.

He doesn’t miss it.

“Here,” you say, and hand him your phone, and he takes it immediately, he’s so over in his head.

He types his number in with his right hand. When he hands the phone back, the question is already burning in his mind.

“When will I hear from you?”

He shouldn't ask. But he needs to know, always needs to know things. Things can only be so irrational, it has to start making sense sometime- and anyways, it doesn’t seem to bother you. You stare at his number, type something in and put your phone away, and the whole time you’re grinning, and he realizes.

You’re pretty.

“Sometime.” you say, and you reach behind your back to untie the strings of your apron. As you bring the neck of it over your head, you wink.

Sometimes, parts of him still feel frozen, trapped in ice, like he wants to smile but can’t remember how, like he’s forever moving too slow, falling too far behind and below.

Right now, he’s all thawed out.

“You’re gonna keep me waiting like that?” He says, and he takes a daunting step forward, cocks his head to the side. He’s on autopilot, reacting on muscle memory alone- this is flirting, this is charming like it’s ‘38.

You nod, adopt a mock seriousness. “I am,” you say. “I like to keep a little bit of mystery.”

“Mystery girl.”

“You know it.”

His heartstrings loop over themselves, tying into in a double-knotted bow.

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