#i don’t know what to do with all the little shaker bottles I’ve made | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

Is this seat empty? " Yes and this one will be too if you sit down" , "Don't be like that my love."

For MLB!Harry first stupid fight in a relationship 😂

Okay this turned into something entirely different then the prompt. Sorry anon 😂

—

Peace & Quiet (Please)

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“Where d’you put m’protein mix?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen and opening every single fucking cabinet.

“It’s in the same place it’s been for the past five years,” YN bites out with a slight irritation, mixing the pancake batter a little rougher.

She’s been up since three in the morning and Harry sauntered in around six-thirty after coming home late from a baseball game last night.

All the babies still asleep.

“Ah - fuck,” Her husband huffs when he spills the powder all over the countertop and floor she had just swiffered ten minutes ago.

When he goes to open the other cabinet and grab for a shaker bottle - they all come tumbling out onto the floor in a loud clash.

“Could you be any louder? You going to wake up the kids!” YN scolds harshly, pointing to the closet, “Go get the swiffer.”

He obliges - surprised by her attitude, grabbing it and slapping it (by accident) on the ground like a fucking baseball bat, the head of the mop snapping off and breaking.

“S’broken,” Harry states the obvious, shrugging and going about peeling a banana before leaving the peel near the sink.

YN turns to face him, voice irritated, “I’m about to break you, just like you broke the swiffer.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks cheekily but her glare tells him there is no amusement to be had this morning.

“I just spent all morning cleaning and you’ve made this place a disaster already!” His wife bites before flipping one of the pancakes.

Harry dejectedly cleans up his protein mix mess, neatly places the shake bottles into the right place, throws away the peel, and closes all the cabinets.

“M’sorry,” He murmurs, coming up behind her and kisses the nape of her neck, “Y’seem a bit cranky this mornin’.”

And man. He should have not said that.

“Do you have a baby who needs to fucking feed from your body every hour even during the night? I don’t think so,” She mutters, shaking him off of her.

“Hey, mama. M’bein’ an ass, what can I do to help?” He changes gears, choosing to stand next to her since she didn’t seem to want to be touch.

“Breastfeed - let your nipples feel like their constantly on fire and about to fall off. Make all this post-partum bleeding stop. Let me sleep for a day straight. I don’t know,” YN begins to sniffles, plating a few mini pancakes.

He’s taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in concern, and he leans forward to flip off the stovetop, “Can I touch you?”

She nods, wiping her eyes, and allows him to haul her up into their marble countertop, “Mama, y’need to tell me when y’feeling overwhelmed? Please baby. I’ve asked you a million times to wake me up and I can bottle feed her.”

“No, she…I have to feed her. It helps bonding and it-“

Harry interrupts firmly, “She will be perfectly fine being fed by a bottle a few times a day. You’re putting too much stress on yourself.”

Her head falls on his shoulder and she mumbles, “I just feel so…gross, not attractive at all.”

He pulls her back, searching her face in confusion, “Baby, why would you ever say somethin’ like that?”

YN let’s out a quiet sob, “My nipples are chafed and sore, I’m constantly bleeding, my belly hasn’t deflated -“

Harry can’t help but lean in and connect their lips harshly, he’s pulling her loose shirt up and over her head.

“Harry, what-“

“Listen t’me,” Harry rasps seriously, his hands are tender and careful as they cup her swollen breasts - thumbing at her painful nubs.

“I’m literally obsessed w’your tits, baby. They’ll go back to normal after y’done feeding and even if they don’t - I love them just as fucking much. You fed our three healthy strong boys and now you’re makin’ sure our chunky little girl is eating good.”

Then he hands move to cup her belly, large hands splayed over the still softening, firm bump from where Briar had been housed for nine months.

“Y’gave me four, four fuckin’ babies from this belly. I’m fucking in love with your body. God, y’thighs, y’tummy, the stretchmarks - fuck, getting me hard just lookin’ at you.”

It was true, he was stiffening up in his shorts but neither of them acknowledged it - it was a love boner more than anything else.

He literally got hard from how much he loved her.

“I’m tired,” She sighs softly, letting Harry tug her shirt back on as the children would be waking up soon to eat breakfast.

“I know, mama,” Harry acknowledges softly, giving her another kiss before taking over the pancake station.

When all the boys are downstairs and chomping away on their food, Cash, who is just about four decides it’ll be funny to squirt the sticky syrup all over their expensive stool cushions and the floor.

When YN turns from the sink to see the mess, she admits she snaps a little bit, “Really Harry? You’re supposed to be watching them, not checking the sports news on your phone!”

Harry is about to defend himself but his wife is stomping over to where Cash has emptied the bottle and gives him a firm look, “Cash Edward Styles, get your bum upstairs, right now.”

Cash’s eyes widen, his mother rarely needed to use a harsh tone with them, “Mama, I’m so-“

“If you are not upstairs, by the bathtub this instant, you get no outside time today. Do you understand me?” YN tells him, giving Easton a warning look when he licks at the syrup on his finger.

“Yes mama,” Cash squeaks out sadly, abandoning his plate and walking up towards the bathroom upstairs to get clean.

Easton and Ezra are dead silent as they watch their brother leave - not wanting the same fate as him so they sit proper.

“Sweetheart-“ Harry begins, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“No, I have my hands full taking care of four kids. I don’t need you acting like a fifth. Go bathe your son,” YN tells him coldly, an angry stare directed his way.

Harry clenches his jaw, biting his tongue as he stands up and pushes his chair in with force - making a loud noise before following after his second son.

A few minutes after they’re out of sight, Easton thought it’d be funny to wipe syrup down Ezra’s cheek which made Ezra cry and throw a pancake at his older brother - now soaking him in syrup.

YN starts to leak milk at the sound of Ezra’s cries.

“Easton Robin - get you butt upstairs this instant too. You know better - no outside time today,” She informs him as she uses a wet wipe to clean Ezra’s cheek.

“Mama,” Easton whines, fat tears starting roll down his cheeks as he stands up, loitering by the kitchen stool.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” YN warns, swiping a paper towel over the wet spot on her shirt from the leak.

Harry had just started washing up Cash who was still melancholy when his blubbering older one comes in - still tearful.

He sighs, looking at his syrupy son, “Wha’ happened?”

Easton looks hesitant, “I put syrup on Ezzie and mama said no outside time today.”

His father is tight-lipped, he can already predict that Easton’s actions upset Ezra, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s clean y’up too. Y’know better, Easton.”

Harry had just finished helping both boys dress when YN appears in the doorway with Ezra who has a binkie popped in his mouth.

She steps over and hands their son to Harry before muttering, “I’m going to feed Briar, keep the boys out of the room. I need some peace.”

YN disappears from the room before he can even reply to her.

Harry can admit he gets distracted when one of his coaches calls him up for a game change, doesn’t notice when Cash sneaks from the playroom.

It’s less than five minutes later when YN leads Cash gently by the hand back into the playroom, with Briar still latched and feeding.

When she sees Harry on his phone, she’s fucking livid with him.

“Really Harry?” His wife scoffs, guiding Cash to join Easton in where he’s playing with legos.

“I’ll call you back,” Harry replies to his coach before hanging up, “Sorry, it was Donny-“

“Good to know your job is more important than watching your kids,” She spits out before storming back out of the room.

Harry is up and following behind her, jaw clenched and irritated, “Just ‘cause you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean that y’say shit like that.”

She turns on her heel, eyes fiery, “You have no god damn consideration. You’ve been swamped this week because of your nike promotion and games. I’ve had the babies all by myself for four nights while you get to gallivant around!”

Harry goes to speak but she puts her free hand up.

“I ask for you to keep our house clean and to let me have one moment of peace with our daughter but you don’t even let me have that! You do not understand how hard it is to push a baby out of you and then have them rely on you to feed them twenty times a day!”

His anger fades when his wife starts sobbing - chest shuddering sobs, “I just had her four weeks ago. I-I haven’t had a break yet. You act like it’s so easy!”

He starts to walk towards her, “Sweetheart-“

YN shakes her head, a desperate plea in her tone, “Please just give me time with Briar.”

Harry swallows harshly and nods - feeling like shit as his wife walks back towards the stairs - all the while still feeding their daughter.

“Hello?”

“Mum, I-can you take the boys for the night?” Harry asks quietly, standing in the kitchen while the two older boys are still playing quietly.

Ezra’s passed out, on Harry’s hip with his little face smushed against the cap of his shoulder with parted lips.

“Dear, is everything okay?” She replies cautiously.

“No, I-I don’t know. YN is overwhelmed and I don’t think I’ve been supportive enough,” Harry feels himself begin to sniffle.

Anne doesn’t pry for information which Harry loves about her, she agrees to take them, and states she’ll be over within the hour.

Harry goes about packing their pajamas and other necessities in their little backpacks as the squeal excitedly about going to Nana’s.

“Can we say bye to mama?” Easton asks anxiously as they clear out of their bedrooms.

“Let me go ask,” He murmurs, running a hand through his son’s curls.

When he cracks open the door, YN is sprawled out on her back, fast asleep with Briar also asleep in the bassinet next to the bed.

His heart aches because her shirt is off, and the remnants of her nipple cream which was a pinkish orange color wasn’t fully rubbed in on her bruised breasts.

Harry guides them downstairs, promising that their mama will call them later.

After the boys leave, Harry doesn’t know what to do so he cleans whatever he finds that is dirty or messy so she won’t have to.

He does all the laundry in the house, cleans up every single toy, and when Briar starts to whimper - he sneaks in to snatch her up so she doesn’t wake YN.

Then he takes her out to the shops with him to grab groceries, her favorite snacks, and maybe he does stop by a jewelry store and buy her something nice.

(casually a pair of 20k earrings)

YN fell asleep around eighty-thirty in the morning and doesn’t wake up until about nine at night, Harry had put Briar in her nursery about an hour ago.

When she does awake, Harry is sitting in the living room - watching a stupid action movie to pass time and dwell on everything.

She comes in quietly, stands in front of her husband who looks up at her with anxious eyes - she looks brighter now that she’s had adequate sleep.

“Will you hold me?” She rasps quietly, just in one of Harry’s shirts and soft pair of sleep shorts.

“Never haven t’ask, mama,” He murmurs, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands sneak beneath her shirt to massage the sleep-warm skin as he kisses her shoulder - over and over again.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispers into his skin, voice croaky as she tries to not get upset.

He pulls her back to study her face, “Do not apologize, y’allowed to get mad at me and feel frustrated. You’re emotions are valid. There’s a lot going on and I could be doing more to help.”

YN wipes a tear that trickles down as she laughs in disbelief, “No, you can’t do anymore to help.”

“Wha-? I can, I promis-“

She interrupts his with a kiss before telling him sincerely, “You can’t do anymore help because you’re already doing the most amazing job. As a husband and dad. I was just tired and stressed - it’s not an excuse.”

It warms his heart, he fucking loves her so much it does make sense, has to button their lips together one more time.

“You have a really hard job too, on top of being a husband and dad. You give us all this, support us and take care of us.”

“Are y’kidding me? Y’the one who keeps this family together. Y’the fuckin’ love of my life, you know that? I love you so much, so so much,” He emphasizes, rubbing a thumb across her bottom lip.

The kiss one more time - the anger was subsided and they were okay once again.

Harry laughs and agree when YN murmurs, “S’time for bed again, m’tired.”

“Okay mama, anythin’ for you,” He responds before peppering her in kisses to make her giggle lightly.

#mlb harry #mlb!harry blurbs #mlbrry #mlb!harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles husband #husband!harry #dad harry #dad!harry #file

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imperfectcourt · 3 years

Note

Andreil Prompt:

Neil is an Assassin. Some day something goes very, very wrong. So the first time Andrew meets Neil, Neil has to explain to him that he accidentally poisened him and Andrew has to go to the hospital to get the antidote.

So I was really unsure about this but when I got going I got really excited about it! But I also COMPLETELY MISSED the line where it said "the first time" so this is very much not the first time they meet ;__; sorry! I hope you like it though!

Neil had never panicked on a job before. He’d never made a mistake or killed the wrong person or not killed the right person. He could kill whoever he was told to kill, he could kill however he was told to kill, and he could be whoever he was told to be in order to do it.

Killing Andrew Minyard was the worst and last mistake Neil would ever make.

Worming his way into A. Minyard’s life hadn’t been easy but it had been natural- the most honest work of his filthy, bloody life.

It had to be this way. It couldn’t look like a typical mob hit, anything abrupt and easy would look suspicious. The call had to come from inside the house, or so they say.

Neil tipped the vial into the remnants of the whiskey bottle and poured two modest glasses. It wouldn’t be pleasant for him but he’d built up enough of a tolerance to survive. Odorless, collarless, no paper trail. He’d suffer some hallucinations and maybe some minor liver damage but he’d live and after tonight he’d be free. No more Moriyama’s. No more contracts. No more death.

No more Andrew.

Neil brought one glass up to swirl, smell, sniff, and sip. A perfectly normal glass of whiskey. He brought out onto the small balcony and put them on the rickety table between two lawn chairs. Andrew picked his up and didn’t make the small cheers motion he always did as a silent thanks, didn’t drink. He’d been staring at his closed phone for the last half hour. Neil knew he would say what was wrong in time (if there was time).

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said after several long minutes, punctuating the statement with a sip. Guess there was time, after all. Neil sat sideways on his chair so he could watch Andrew light a cigarette.

“That sounds ominous. You’re not a murderer are you?”

Andrew’s top lip curled in a small, vicious smile. “That’s a truth for a different day.”

No, it wasn’t, and Neil found himself reaching for another mouthful of whiskey. Andrew raised a brow at this, having caught on a while ago that Neil liked to draw the drink out as long as possible if it meant he didn’t have to go home yet.

“It’s nothing to form a drinking habit over, calm down.” Andrew took up his drink again and every sip he took felt like friendly fire. “You’re going to see something on the news tomorrow and I’d rather tell you myself than get pissy with me for not bringing it up sooner.”

“Secrets secrets are no fun,” Neil parroted. Andrew kicked out his socked foot to hit Neil’s heel and didn’t pull it back.

“A story will be dropping about my brother’s involvement in a gang bust tonight. Just got word that everything went well but his services had been needed on sight.” With the hand that held the cigarette, he gave his cellphone a little shake.

“You have a brother?” That hadn’t been in the assignment, but family matters were often left out for jobs like this. He couldn’t go in knowing too much and risk exposing himself.

“My twin.”

“You have a twin?”

Andrew threw back the rest of his drink and waved it at Neil’s face. “The only reason I’m telling you is because you’re going to see him parading around on t.v. with my face. We’re not that close.”

A gang bust. Big enough for national news. That couldn’t- that would mean-

“What’s his name?”

“Aaron.”

“A. Minyard. Doctor Aaron Minyard.”

Andrew froze. Looked at Neil so expressionless he might as well have been stone. “I never said he was a doctor.”

He didn’t have to. Dr. A Minyard. Fox affiliated attached to a photograph. Andrew had his PhD and his connection to Kevin Day was easy enough to find if you knew where to look. The Foxes were an elusive bunch of vigilantes but everyone had heard of Kevin Day, son of the founders of the Foxes.

Neil had never made a mistake before and killing Andrew Minyard was the biggest mistake of his life. He knocked the glass from Andrew’s hand only because Andrew let him.

“Now, right now,” he changed, grabbing Andrew by the sleeve and tugging him back inside. It only worked because Andrew let him. Andrew was always letting Neil, trusting Neil. And for what? For this?

Neil let go when he was sure Andrew would follow him and rushed to the tiny kitchen. He took the water glass by the sink and upended the entire salt shaker into it.

“Drink this right now,” he ordered Andrew.

Andrew did not take it.

“Andrew, trust me just one last time. Just this one last time trust me and drink this. Just this once. Just this one last time.” There was time. There was barely time. It had been less than a minute, there had to be time.

Neil didn’t know what he would do if Andrew didn’t drink, if Neil killed him for nothing. No matter what the outcome, no matter Andrew's decision, Neil would die either way.

Andrew took the salt water, drank the whole thing, and promptly threw up in the sink.

Neil watched, hands in his hair and tears clouding his eyes as Andrew righted himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“That’ll give you time to get to the hospital. You have to go now, you’ve got time.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Andrew put his hand slowly, calmly, over Neil’s throat, “until you explain.”

He pressed him into the wall.

Neil let him.

“You were supposed to be my last one and my contract would be fulfilled,” he said.

“Explain better than that. What does this have to do with Aaron?”

“There’s no time-”

“Then make it quick.” He pressed against Neil’s throat and Neil’s hands came up instinctively to grab his arm. He stopped before making contact.

“I was born into a debt that the Moriyama’s own. I was one of their hit men. A. Minyard. Fox associate. And a picture. That was my last assignment and I could finally… I could…”

Words were getting harder. He had begun ingesting the poison before Andrew and hadn’t gotten any of it out of his system.

“You’re the only one I never…”

“Never what? Never shot like a coward? Never succeeded in killing?”

“Never wanted to.” His hands came down onto Andrew’s forearm even though he didn’t have permission. His vision was swimming around the edges and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drug or the pressure on his trachea. “I didn’t want to kill you. H-hospital. You still need the hospital. You have time.”

“Why should I believe a single thing you say?”

“I’ve never lied to you.” It was so important for him to say that somehow the words came out with conviction. “Never lied. Andrew, you’re amazing and I love you but you need to leave right now.”

His knees gave out and for the briefest moment all of his weight was being held by the hand on his throat. Andrew lowered them both to the ground.

“What did- You idiot.” Ah, yes. He must have caught on. “You did all this to live only to fucking kill yourself? Neil. Neil… Neil!”

Neil had never panicked on a job, but he’d also never woken up in a hospital bed before. He was aware of the spike in noise before he was aware of his surroundings.

“The worst assassin in history.”

Neil groaned but didn’t yet open his eyes. His memory was just solid enough to know what he’d taken and experience told him he wasn’t ready to face the spinning world.

“Can’t say he was wrong, technically,” the same voice said.

“What kind of assassin not only chooses the wrong target but falls in love with their dumb ass?”

“This dumb ass has the same level of education as your dumb ass.”

“My dumb ass has a doctorate of medicine, not in books.”

“Literature.”

“Still dumb.”

“Sssh,” Neil breathed out, testing the waters of control and strength. He had very little of either.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the dumbest of asses.”

“Give him another hour and he might even be able to respond.”

“Now who would want that.”

The second time Neil woke up in a hospital, it was enough for him to look around and realize this was not a hospital but rather a medically furnished bedroom.

“I hate you.”

He turned his head to see Andrew slouching back in an overstuffed, wingback chair. The look on his ever-passive face was angry and Neil would take angry over dead any day.

“You made it,” he slurred. His mouth felt like cotton. “You made it,” he said again because it was right and good. “You made it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m fine. Got a tolerance”

“Is that something they teach you in the bright sunny world of the Nest?”

Neil made a finger gun at Andrew (why?) and slowly, slowly tilted himself onto his side to see him better. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there were things he needed to worry about, but for now he just wanted to look.

“I’m happy you’re alive.”

“I don’t care.” And he sounded like he didn’t, but that was how he always sounded. Still Andrew. Still him. Still alive. For a long, quiet while they stared at each other.

“I have to go before the Moriyama’s come looking to do clean up. This won’t be tolerated.”

“No. It won’t be. But not by the Moriyama’s.”

Andrew stood in a motion that made him look much older than he was, tired. As he came to stand over the bed, Neil couldn’t help but stare because not killing Andrew Minyard was the only right thing he had ever done.

“The Foxes completed their take down of the Moriyama’s. It’s been all over the news, which you would have seen if you hadn’t poisoned yourself.”

The… the what? Something must have shown on Neil’s face because Andrew pressed him down into the bed a split second before he’d tried to sit up. As consciousness cleared his fog, his brain began catching up enough to understand that he wasn’t understanding. The synapses were there but they weren’t connecting.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. Andrew’s mask twitched.

“Of course you don’t, you’ve been too deep cover to keep up with what was right under your nose. The Foxes won, there are no more Ravens, and you, Nathaniel, are a free man.”

The sound of that name, his name, sent a flinch so hard through his body that it made something cramp in his stomach. Andrew watched, bored, as he curled in on himself. If he knew that name, if his cover was blown so spectacularly, then there must be an ounce of truth to it.

“I’m just… Neil. I just want to be Neil.”

“Well, Neil.” Andrew slid his hand into Neil’s hair and squeezed, not hard but enough to tilt his head back. “If you ever do something that stupid again I will kill you myself.” Something in his eyes, however passive he tried to pull off, told Neil that Andrew was not referring to his own attempted murder.

“Were you… worried about me?” That couldn’t be right.

“I don’t know, Neil.” He kept saying his name like that and Neil didn’t know what to feel about it. “My whatever of a good stretch of time nearly killed himself. How should I be feeling?”

“I nearly killed you. I only poisoned myself a little.”

“Why?”

Why? The easy answer was forensics. Two glasses. Two drinkers. One lucky to survive the ordeal. But that wasn’t all of it. As Neil stared up up at Andrew, here at the other side of it all, he could admit to himself that he was glad for the punishment.

“Because… because I was going to kill you to save my own life and I had never hated myself for anything more than that.”

“I hate you,” Andrew spat.

“As long as you’re alive to hate me it’s fine.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me more about the take down.”

“No.”

“Is your brother a Fox? Do I have to be killed for knowing that?”

“You have to be killed because you won’t shut your mouth.”

A good stretch of time. That’s how long Neil had been worming his way to be Andrew’s whatever. And in all that time he’d never felt safer. He lifted a shaky hand and waited. It took nearly a minute before Andrew released his hair and took the hand up in his own.

He didn’t apologize for trying to kill him. He didn’t apologize for coming into his life under false pretenses. If Andrew was there now, he trusted Neil enough to understand. They could talk about it later.

“Go back to sleep,” Andrew ordered quietly.

“So I’ll shut up?” Neil whispered back. His eyes were already drifting closed.

“Sure.”

#aftg #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #my writing

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

Text

Fire on Fire - Chapter Three

Chapter two // Chapter four

“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.

Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.

Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.

They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.

“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.

“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.

“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”

Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.

She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.

“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.

When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.

She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”

Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.

“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.

“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.

“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.

“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.

“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.

“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”

“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.

“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.

“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.

“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.

“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”

“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.

“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”

“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.

“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.

“What’s your type of woman?”

“Everything you aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.

Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”

“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.

Rowan was mesmerized.

The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.

He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.

She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.

With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.

And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.

So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.

Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.

Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.

She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.

Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.

The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.

“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.

Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.

A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.

Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.

“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.

“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”

“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”

“You got it all right.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.

Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.

Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.

Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.

It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.

“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @mx—spelled //

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #fire on fire #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Not Exactly a Loophole (but he'll take it)

Luka's got a crush on one of his regulars, but there's just one problem. His mom may not be big on rules, but when it comes to her bar Nanarchy's, the few she has are nonnegotiable--including the rule that employees are not allowed to ask out patrons. With Juleka also pining for a cute customer, Luka's determined to find a loophole...but the universe seems to have its own plans.

Rating: T (mostly for language)

This one is a belated birthday gift, but not for me--for the lovely @mamanabeille! It was meant to be a meet cute featuring EMT Marinette, but bartender Luka kinda stole the spotlight, so it didn’t quite come out like I intended, but I hope you all (and especially MA!) enjoy it anyway!

The bar was nearly empty the first time she walked in, but Luka was sure he would have noticed her in the craziest crowd. She paused in her approach to the bar when she saw him, but when Luka gave her a friendly smile and simply asked what he could get her, she came the rest of the way over and slid onto a stool, ordering her drink in a quiet, hesitant voice, pulling out her wallet..

“I thought Juleka was working tonight,” she said as he took her card and opened a tab for her.

“She will be.” He glanced at the clock. “In about an hour.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “An—“ She frowned, pulling out her phone, and then something seemed to click and she folded her arms, pouting, as he set up to mix her drink. Luka felt like pouting, too, over the fact that Juleka had seen her first. She was really cute.

“They told me the wrong time,” she grumbled. “Because they thought I would be late. Which means I nearly killed myself getting home to change and get back here for nothing .”

“Not for nothing,” Luka said easily. “Juleka’ll be here in an hour. We’re not busy, I don’t mind if you camp out. You look amazing, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to miss you.”

She looked a little confused for a moment, and then her eyes went round and she touched her fingertips to her soft red mouth. “Oh, n-no, I’m not, uh—I mean I don’t um—“

Luka winked at her. “It’s okay, I won’t tell her anything.”

“Rose!” she squeaked, waving her hands so frantically that Luka instinctively slid her drink out of the way. “I’m friends with Rose! She wanted to come while Juleka was working, and I had a—a bad experience at the bar I used to go to, and she said that kind of thing doesn’t happen here, and a bunch of us were supposed to meet up so Rose could fli—TALK! To Juleka and the rest of us could have a drink and hang out in peace but they gave me the wrong time because I’m late for everything, but for once I’m not late and now I’m stuck here with you and—“ She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked so horrified that Luka could only laugh.

“Well, Rose is right, we don’t allow any kind of disrespectful behavior here, my mom’s very strict about it. She values Nanarchy ’s reputation as a safe space and she’s very particular about it. I promise you, being her son wouldn’t excuse me from an ass-kicking if I was inappropriate with you, or stood by while anyone else was, so feel free to hang out and wait for your friends.” He picked up another glass, flipped it in his hand before scooping it full of ice, and then he filled it with water and set it in front of his reluctant customer. “My name’s Luka, just let me know if you need anything.”

He lingered long enough for her to smile tentatively back at him, and then busied himself far enough away from her that she wouldn’t feel crowded, setting up the wells and making sure everything was stocked and topped off before the rush started.

Marinette nursed her drink and pouted, annoyed with her friends for wasting her time this way. Sure, she was always late, but her job was demanding and she wasn’t always in control of when she was able to leave. She couldn’t just ditch Adrien to handle it all, that would be mean. As it was, she’d been late leaving her shift today, and she had scrambled home to get home and get herself presentable and get here in time.

Then she walked in, triumphantly on time and not even in her work clothes, and those losers she called friends weren’t even here! And then she got all confused and tongue-tied and practically preemptively accused the cute bartender of harassment, even though in two minutes of conversation she could tell that he wasn’t anything like that guy that ran Graham’s and—

She groaned quietly and dropped her head on her arms.

Luka didn’t look back at her, but there was a slight quirk of his lips and the tiniest motion of his head in her direction that said he knew she was watching him. He set the two handful of beers he had just picked up on the bar in front of him and dipped a hand in his back pocket, coming out with a bottle opener spinning on one finger. He flicked the caps off the bottles in quick succession and then with another twirl, the bottle opener went back to his pocket like a six-shooter into a cowboy’s holster in some old western. Marinette giggled, and only then did he tilt his head in her direction and wink.

Marinette squeaked and buried her suddenly red face back in her arms. She was pretty sure she heard a low chuckle from down the bar.

Juleka walked in about forty-five minutes later. She took one look at Luka and asked, “What happened?”

“Hmm?” Luka looked up at her from where he was slicing limes.

“That’s the dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your face,” Juleka commented as she tied her apron on. “And that’s saying a lot. What gives?”

“Nothing,” Luka said, resisting the temptation to squirt her with lime juice. It was too early in the evening to escalate that far. “I’m just in a good mood.”

Juleka’s eyebrows raised. “You’re always in a good mood. You don’t always grin like a dope.” Luka opened his mouth to say something rude when they were both distracted by a surprisingly strong but very feminine voice carrying the length of the bar.

“Luka!” Both of them looked down the bar to the pretty dark-haired lady waving at him (and wincing slightly as she realized how loud she’d been), and Luka’s grin grew wider as he waved a hand to acknowledge her.

“I’ll get it,” Juleka said as he reached for a towel to clean his hands.

Luka took a step back to block her from getting around him. “Oh no you don’t. She’s my customer.”

Juleka blinked at him in surprise and then smirked. “Oh. I see.”

“You see nothing,” Luka told her, tossing the towel at her face as he made a beeline down the bar. “Back off. You can serve their table later, but while she’s at the bar, she’s mine.”

“Never knew you were so possessive,” Juleka muttered, moving the towel aside with two fingers and dropping it into the dirty bin with a gesture of distaste.

“Laugh it up, I’m gonna get you back soon,” Luka called back, and turned to his customer. “Doing all right? What can I get for you?” he asked, smiling as he leaned his hands on the bar in front of her.

“My friends are almost here,” she said, setting her phone on the bar where he could see the message chain. “I was going to go ahead and order for them if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luka said, looking at the list of drinks. When he was sure he had the order, he leaned back and smiled at her. “You can go find a table if you want, I’ll get the drinks ready and have Juleka bring them to you.” He winked, and she giggled.

“That would be perfect. And...thanks, Luka,” she smiled, blushing a little, and he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “My name’s Marinette, by the way. Which...you actually probably knew, because you opened my tab, um...”

“I did,” he grinned, and began setting up glasses on the bar top. “But it’s nice to hear it from you.” Marinette gathered her things slowly; she’d spread out across the bar as she’d waited, with pens and a small notebook and a set of index cards with neat notes scattered across her part of the bar.

Luka pulled his mind to the task, picking up a jigger and flipping it in his hand. Realizing that Marinette was still watching him, he poured some liquor and then gave the jigger a flip around his hand as he made eye contact with Marinette. He had to chuckle when her eyes widened slightly and her face flamed up red. She forgot all about picking up her things as she watched him mix the drinks, and he struggled not to show off too much, amused at her fascination. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and began picking her things up haphazardly. She reached for a pen, but knocked it with her fingers, sending it spinning off the back of the bar.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—” she exclaimed just as Luka’s hand snapped out and caught it before it could fall to the floor. Fortunately he hadn’t been holding anything liquid at the time, and he hastily picked up the shaker he’d dropped on the bar and set it back upright before handing Marinette her pen back.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “No big, Marinette. Relax.”

She was staring at him, her blue eyes round, and slowly she took the pen back from him. “Thanks,” she whispered, and shrank a little, tucking the last few things in her purse.

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled. “Seriously, Marinette, you’re here to unwind. Don’t sweat the small stuff, okay? No pressure here. Just take your time.” He flipped a shaker up over his shoulder and caught it behind his back, and Marinette put her chin in her fist and pouted again.

“How do you do that?” she asked enviously. “I’m such a klutz when I’m not focusing.”

“Practice,” Luka shrugged. “I’ve been working here since I was old enough to be behind the bar, so. It’s not really anything special, but it makes pretty girls smile, so…” He grinned at her, and then motioned behind her. “Table six is the quietest, over there by the wall. I’ll have the rest of these done in just a minute, and—”

“Marinette!” someone squealed from the door and Luka chuckled.

“—And there’s your friends,” he said, as Marinette turned and waved.

She turned back and gave him a smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Thanks a bunch, Luka, really. You’ve been great.”

“Any time,” he barely managed to answer, and had to swallow quickly afterwards. He mixed the rest of the drinks on autopilot, his eyes darting back to Marinette as she and her friends settled at their table. He saw the petite blond with her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers, and a quick glance down the bar showed him Juleka standing as if she had been hit in the back of the head with a board, a faint rosy color tinting her pale cheeks.

Luka grinned and loaded the cocktails on a tray before carrying them down to her. “These are for six,” he told her, and she looked at him stupidly. Luka smirked. “You know that saying about people who live in glass houses?” he grinned, nudging her arm before he headed back to the next customer waving for his attention. “Don’t drop anything,” he called back, and heard Juleka snort.

***

Girls Night was no longer the trial that it used to be. Marinette loved everything about Nanarcy’s . Their aesthetic was cool and unique, their atmosphere was fun and chaotic in a controlled way, their live music nights were amazing, and they didn’t overpour, so everybody was only as drunk as they wanted to be at the end of the night.

And their bartenders were hot. Rose was head over heels for the quiet, dark-haired Juleka, and Marinette was pretty well smitten by the kind, gentle man with the shaggy hair and the soft eyes, who never seemed to take offense no matter how many times she put her foot in her mouth. She’d never been as early as she had that first day, but she did rush just a little to beat the girls there, so that she could sit and talk to Luka for a bit before the rush hit.

He was just so nice , and easy to talk to, and perceptive, and she always relaxed after a few minutes in his company.

Unfortunately Marinette couldn’t be early all the time, and the girls were already at their table and there was already a crowd at the bar before she arrived.

She stood on her tiptoes, looking over the crowd, and saw Luka about the same time he saw her. He flashed her a broad grin that set butterflies wild in her stomach. She gave him a small wave and then formed her fingers into a d, their sign that she was the designated driver tonight. She saw him nod, and started working her way through the crowd to the bar.

Luka picked up his napkin and did that funny flick with his fingers that sent it spinning onto the bar right in front of her. Marinette really wanted to know how he did that, but his hand moved so fast she couldn’t follow it no matter how many times she watched him. She saw him chuckle at her pout as he flipped a tumbler in his hand, filled it with ice and soda water, and then set it on the napkin. “Good to see you, Marinette,” was all he had time to say, but his warm, smooth voice still made her melt a little on the inside.

She lingered at the bar for just a moment, watching him joke and banter as he flipped and spun bottles and tumblers and shakers, dropping them to catch behind his back, his movements all smooth and practiced. He’d told her once that what he did wasn’t actually that hard, but it still looked like magic to her. It had surprised her at first; he’d struck her as a quiet, laid-back kind of guy, not someone who enjoyed crowds and attention—but then she’d seen him play with the band one night, and understood. Luka might be quiet on his own, but in front of an audience, he was a performer, and if she’d thought what he did behind the bar was impressive, seeing him on stage with his guitar was, well...breathtaking.

For all that flash, though, it was watching him shake a drink that made her go weak, eyes glued to the lines of his arms and the slight smirk on his face. Marinette picked up her soda and headed back to the girls’ table before she could embarrass herself by swooning on the bar. The girls gave her knowing looks when she arrived, but other than the smirks, they left her mercifully alone about her increasingly obvious crush.

Marinette felt fortunate that Rose was more fun to tease (and safer; Rose didn’t flail and knock over drinks when she got flustered). Rose blushed and denied and then gave herself away by sighing dreamily as she looked at the tall girl behind the bar. Marinette couldn’t help covering a snicker with her hand, though as her gaze followed Rose’s, her traitorous eyes snapped straight to Luka.

He seemed to be in some kind of one-up contest with his sister, the grin on his face positively wicked as he balanced a cocktail on a bar spoon on his forearm—which required to him to keep his arm flexed in a way that made the normally subtle swell of muscles along his arm much more obvious. Marinette groaned and leaned on Rose, who was peeking through her fingertips and trying not to squeal as Juleka rolled her eyes and set up a row of glasses in front of the bar. Twirling a bottle in each hand, Juleka smirked at Luka. Luka was good, but Juleka obviously outmatched him in this context. She was herself beautiful and elegant, with her hair tied back in a thick braid and perfectly done makeup that highlighted her fine bone structure. Her features were a little rounder than Luka’s sharp angles, and she was tall and slender without being as lanky as Luka. The pair of them together were unfairly attractive.

Juleka’s motions at the bar were fluid and graceful, without any wasted movement, and she was fast . She filled the cocktails on the bar in front of her, mixing them up first and then stacking the shakers to pour all four glasses at once. Then she turned to Luka, plucked the glass off of his spoon with a lifted eyebrow, and set it on her tray, swinging it up onto her shoulder. Luka made a laughing gesture that was clearly I surrender , and Juleka smirked as she went around the side of the bar.

“She’s so beautiful,” Rose swooned into Marinette’s side, and Marinette smiled, bumping her shoulder into Rose, who just flopped in the other direction to drape herself over Mylene and sigh some more. Marinette gave her friend an affectionate look, and then tried to school her expression as Juleka appeared at their table, setting cocktails in front of them with practiced ease and a quiet, “Welcome back,” with a subtle smile. Her eyes, though a different color, were as intense as Luka’s, and Marinette thought they stayed focused on Rose for a beat longer than the others. Then Juleka’s gaze flicked to Marinette’s drink and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Refill?” she asked.

“No thank you,” Marinette said automatically, and Juleka nodded. Those amber eyes flicked back to Rose as she set the last cocktail down in front of her. “Enjoy,” was all she said, but there was a subtle quirk of a smile to her lips, and Marinette could feel Rose freezing like a deer in the headlights at her side. Then Juleka was gone again, her heavy braid swinging behind her, before Rose could even think of anything to say back.

“Ooh,” Rose moaned, frustrated, grabbing her drink.

“Next time,” Mylene said consolingly, patting Rose’s arm. “It’s busy here tonight. I’m sure she’ll be back when there’s more time to chat.”

That was true, Marinette thought, but still...they’d been coming here for weeks and things didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She’d thought Juleka was interested but maybe…

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” she said, picking up her glass and sliding out of her seat. “I think I do want a refill.”

“It just tastes better when Luka serves it,” Alix snickered, and Marinette pretended not to hear her as she made her way to the bar. She needed some answers, and maybe it was time to try the direct approach.

Luka was hopeless, he knew, watching Marinette’s table out of the corner of his eye even as he teased Juleka. He didn’t care if it made sense or not; he was crazy into the girl, and her mere presence made him feel more alive.

Juleka snatched his cocktail and Luka had to move quickly to catch the bar spoon and dump it in the bin. He waved Juleka off with a laugh and glanced back at the table again where Marinette was consoling her little blond friend, who was clearly suffering after Juleka’s display. That only made him grin wider.

Luka allowed himself one lovesick sigh. Marinette was so beautiful, and he loved the way she put so much individuality into the way she dressed, and the contours of the muscles in her arms as she waved them about, talking with her hands. She was funny, and she was sweet, and she was smart , and every time she came in he entertained fantasies of quitting on the spot, confessing his love, and running off with Marinette in the rain (he wasn’t sure why it was always raining in his fantasies, but it seemed to fit her for some reason). His mom would probably forgive him. Eventually.

Juleka would kill him though, and besides, he liked his job and he got to see Marinette almost every week. And...maybe he was a little bit chicken. Just a tiny bit. There was every chance that instead of falling into his arms and agreeing to run away with him, Marinette would be startled and freaked out and run away without him, and then he’d be out of a job with a broken heart in the bargain. Just because she liked joking around with him, and watching him (because he definitely didn’t miss her eyes on him, with as often as his were on her), didn’t mean she was interested in the reality of dating him—especially if he were suddenly jobless.

So the fantasies would stay just that for now.

Ugh, sometimes he really wanted to...hug his mother in a bone-crushing but loving way and tell her that for someone so hung up on freedom, her rules were a righteous pain in his ass.

That would probably get him fired too. If you fire me, I’ll have to come live back at home with you , he mentally argued with his imaginary mother, but it didn’t work any better in his imagination than it would have in real life.

Unfortunately Juleka didn’t seem to be having any better luck than he did. Luka had a half-formed plan to call in a favor so he could get Juleka cut early, so that she could run into Rose on her way out and get around Anarka’s rules that way, when he was startled out of his thoughts by someone calling his name.

Luka was moving down the bar to smile at Marinette before he’d even fully processed that she was calling him, but the crease between her brows made him hesitate slightly.

“Juleka didn’t get you a refill?” he asked, but Marinette shook her head.

“I told her I didn’t need one, and then I changed my mind.” She set her glass on the table and nudged it towards him. “Also...well, I want to ask you something.” She shifted uncomfortably, and Luka swallowed as if that would keep the sudden butterflies in his stomach confined there.

“Anything,” he said glibly, with a smile that showed no trace of his nervousness. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s just...do you think…” She glanced up at him shyly, and looked down, cheeks pinking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the counter and lowered his head, cocking it slightly to show he was listening. His fingers laced together and squeezed tight in front of him.

“Does Juleka like Rose?” Marinette asked, glancing nervously back at their table.

Luka blinked. “Ah…”

“Before you answer,” Marinette said quickly, turning back to him. “It’s just that Rose really, really likes Juleka, but Juleka hasn’t...well she does flirt some, but Rose isn’t sure, and...I just don’t want to be encouraging her to pursue something hopeless, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me now if Juleka’s not interested in her. I won’t say anything to Rose, not directly, I just...if it’s not going to happen, I can maybe get her to—”

“It’s not hopeless,” Luka interrupted, trying not to laugh, though whether at his own stupidity or Rose and Juleka’s, he wasn’t sure. “It’s definitely not hopeless. The only thing hopeless is my poor little sister.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, and then smiled. “Okay then. I’ll tell Rose not to give up?”

“Definitely not,” Luka confirmed, straightening. “But we’re not allowed to ask out customers, so she’s either got to catch Juleka on off hours or make the first move herself. Mom’s a real stickler about it. I’d get in less trouble for being high on the job than hitting on a customer.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I see. I...I guess that makes sense. And Rose hasn’t wanted to be creepy if Juleka was just…” She blushed, surprisingly intensely. “You know, being nice because it’s her job.”

Luka snorted. “Juleka’s not nice.”

Something hit the back of his head and Luka straightened to find Juleka glaring at him. “What are you saying about me, jerk?” she demanded, and Luka rolled his eyes, looking back at Marinette.

“See?” he grinned.

“Shut up and move,” Juleka grunted, shoving his arm until he stepped aside for her to get by.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he called after her, and she turned her back to the bar and flipped him off where only he could see.

“Rude,” he chuckled, and focused back on Marinette. “Look, I can’t speak for her, but as her brother...I don’t think your friend has anything to worry about, yeah?”

Marinette gave him a dazzling smile. “Thanks Luka. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” he grinned automatically.

“Send us another round for the table when you get a chance?”

“Sure. I’ll have Jules drop it off.” He winked at her, and her smile got even brighter.

“Perfect.” She gave a happy little bounce before she hopped off the stool and went back to the table. Luka watched her go, and saw her look back at him over her shoulder. He sighed.

“Dumbass,” he said to himself, shaking his head as he turned away to get their drinks ready.

Well, at least Juleka would be happy. If Rose still felt weird about asking her out, he could still try and get Juleka cut early the next weekend. Victor was always asking for more hours, surely he’d do Luka a favor if it meant weekend night tips…

Not that that helped Luka any. He looked back towards Marinette’s table and sighed.

Well, he’d get his own chance eventually—or he’d make one, if he had to.

***

“I’m missing girl’s night,” Marinette huffed, throwing herself behind the wheel. She was missing seeing Luka, she thought petulantly. Her one night a week to see him and she was missing it because Adrien had said something stupid to the person resonsible for their schedules, and she was his partner, so she was guilty by association.

“I said I was sorry,” Adrien sighed, hauling himself up into the passenger side of the ambulance.”

“Say it again,” Marinette grumbled.

Adrien groaned, slumping into his seat. “I promise that I have never in my life been more sorry than I am at this moment, facing this whole shift with you in this mood.”

Marinette glared at him, but the radio called their attention.

Their first few calls were simple enough, but the next one made Marinette suck in her breath sharply.

“What?” Adrien asked, looking at her.

“That’s my girls’ night bar,” Marinette breathed. “26-year-old male…it could be Luka...”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her. “You want to pass it on?” he asked, not unkindly.

Marinette shook her head. “Nobody else is even close. Let’s go, but you take lead if it’s—if it’s someone I know.”

“It’s probably not,” Adrien reassured her, flipping on the lights and sirens.

Marinette made a noncommittal noise, trying to ignore the cold weight that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Adrien put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed—and then braced himself as Marinette pulled out into traffic.

When they walked into the bar, they had to shove their way through the crowd that had formed in a ring being kept back by a man and a woman wearing shirts that identified them as security.

“Marinette!” Rose cried, waving at her with one hand, and for an instant, Marinette froze.

Luka was sitting in a chair, looking dazed. He kept trying to get up, but Juleka shoved him back down with one hand. Rose was pressing a blood-stained towel to his head.

“Oh no,” Marinette murmured. Adrien squeezed her arm, and then moved past her, his stride purposeful. Marinette pulled herself together and followed, pressing her lips together. This was her job, after all, and she was good at it. It was just another call, and Luka would be fine.

Luka was confused as hell, and his brain didn’t quite feel connected to his body. He was vaguely aware that his head hurt, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of what was going on. He’d woken up on the floor, and then he’d nearly fallen when he tried to stand, and Juleka had shoved him into a chair and fluttered over him, alternately swearing at him and sounding at the edge of tears, and Luka still had no idea what was going on.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, that’s what happened,” snapped Juleka. “We have bouncers for a reason , dumbass.”

“Bouncers?” Luka asked, bewildered. He blinked, trying to focus and clear the fog from his mind. The room didn’t seem to want to be still. It wasn’t spinning, exactly, just tilted to the left slightly. A flash of white crossed his vision and he focused on it for a moment, and then blinked again, still confused and sure he couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing. “Marinette?”

“Hey, Luka,” she smiled, leaning over him.

Luka grinned. “Hi.” Then he frowned. “Thought you were working tonight.”

“I am working,” Marinette said gently, pulling something out of her breast pocket, and Luka vaguely registered that the white he had seen was some kind of uniform shirt. Then he jumped slightly and blinked as she shone a light in his eyes. “He lost consciousness?” she asked, but then Luka was distracted from Marinette as someone else took his arm. He blinked down at a blond man that had knelt next to his chair and was pulling... stuff out of a bag beside him.

“Yes,” Rose confirmed from somewhere behind him.

“Luka, was it?” the blond man asked. “I’m Adrien. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Kentucky sunrise,” Luka muttered. “Told Jules to keep an eye on the guy, he seemed shady.”

“He was shady,” Juleka said, fingers squeezing on his shoulder. “He got nasty and I told him to leave, and he grabbed me, and then this idiot jumped the bar to come get involved and—it’s kind of a blur after that, but he got Luka in the head with a glass or a bottle or something.”

“Where’s the guy now?” Marinette asked.

“Ivan’s got him in the back, waiting for the cops.”

Luka tried to follow the conversation, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate for very long. Adrien started asking him questions, and Luka’s world greyed out a bit as he tried to focus enough to give the right answer. They seemed like really dumb questions, and Adrien kept touching Luka’s head where it hurt. Luka tried to push his hands away, but Marinette caught Luka’s hand and squeezed it tight. Luka looked back at her, focusing on the cool blue of her eyes. She asked him something, but he didn’t quite catch it.

Fuck, he was tired. He just wanted to get somewhere quiet and dark and less peopled and go to sleep.

Marinette’s hand on his cheek brought him back to reality a bit. She was frowning. “Luka, do you feel sick?”

“No,” Luka sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Just tired.”

“Luka,” Marinette said sharply, and he opened his eyes again. “Don’t go to sleep, okay?”

Luka whined, but tried to keep his eyes open. He leaned his head on Juleka’s stomach, and felt her hand stroke gently through his hair. He must really be messed up, he thought with mild amusement, for Jules to be that gentle.

“I think we better take him in for evaluation,” Marinette said to...someone. “He’s definitely got a concussion, and that head lac needs stitches.”

“Agreed,” said Adrien, and Luka began to lose the battle to stay awake. “Come on, stay with us.” Someone squeezed Luka’s arm, and Luka struggled to open his eyes again.

Luka lost track of what was going on after that, moving mechanically when someone asked him to and just trying to stay awake. The only thing he really registered was Marinette leaning over him in the back of the ambulance, stroking his hair back from his face and looking at him with such softness that his breath caught even through his fog. “I’ll drive,” she said. “Take care of him for me.”

Luka was confused until Marinette disappeared from his side and Adrien settled in next to him instead, a faintly amused look on his face. “She must really like you,” Adrien commented under his breath. “She hates to give up the action and drive.”

Luka smiled weakly.

***

The hospital was a confused sequence of waiting rooms and big noisy machines, but as they sat through it all, Luka began to regain some focus and clarity, and by the time they came to tell him that he was fine, he pretty much was, aside from the throbbing in his head where they’d stitched the wound closed and the anesthetic was wearing off.

“We’re going to keep you the rest of the night for observation,” the ER doctor told him, “But unless there’s any sudden changes, you should be good to go tomorrow. Just take it easy for the next few days.”

Luka didn’t bother to argue since the night was mostly gone anyway. All he really cared about was getting to a bed, now that they had cleared him to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Juleka was sitting next to his bed.

“Hey, dummy,” she said, when he turned his head to look at her.

“Hey,” he sighed. “Can I go home yet?”

Juleka snorted. “Knowing hospitals, it’ll take all day just to fill out the paperwork to get you out of here.

Luka made a face. “Probably true, actually.” He sighed and laid his head back, lolling it over to look at her. “Tell me you at least got a date out of it.”

Juleka blushed, and dropped her gaze, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “She’s a nurse at this hospital, do you know?” Juleka mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. “She stayed with me the whole time they had you doing all those tests. We’re...having dinner tonight when she gets off work.”

“Awesome,” Luka grinned, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

Juleka took a moment to collect herself, and then she lifted her head and grinned at him. “Now it’s your turn.”

“God I wanna marry that girl,” Luka groaned, smiling dreamily. “Gorgeous and smart and funny and a badass. This is it. I’m totally gone for her, Jules.”

Luka didn’t need to see Juleka’s smirk, he could hear it in her voice. “What else is new?” she snorted.

Another memory surfaced and he grimaced. “I’m not sure puking all over her partner in the back of her ambulance made the kind of impression I was hoping for.”

“Don’t worry,” a male voice chuckled. “You’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Luka and Juleka both looked towards the door. Marinette and her golden-haired partner were standing there in clean uniforms. Luka felt a sudden flutter in his stomach. The EMT uniform didn’t do much for her, compared to her usual perfectly tailored clothes, but...she looked strong and confident and in charge, and it was definitely doing things for him. Her hair was tied back and pinned up, but that just made her beautiful eyes more prominent, and the same smile tilted her sweet lips.

He suddenly remembered what he and Jules had been talking about. Oh God, did she hear him? Luka swallowed nervously.

Marinette gave him a little wave, her shoulders hunched slightly. “I hope you don’t mind that we stopped by,” she said shyly. “I— We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Adrien grinned broadly, clearly amused, and Juleka began to snicker. She leaned over and whispered to Luka, “Your heart monitor’s going crazy, dumbass.” Then she kissed his forehead. “Call me when they’re ready to let you out of here.” She walked away from the bed, and Luka realized too late that she was planning to leave him there with Marinette.

He registered about that time that the monitor behind him was indeed beeping frantically and felt himself flush. He fiddled with the clip on his finger, but if he took it off the nurses would come charging in, so he took some deep breaths, trying to get himself under control as Juleka stopped to exchange a quiet word and a hug with Marinette, with a quick handshake for Adrien.

Adrien and Marinette approached the bed and Luka reached up self-consciously to smooth his hair before remembering the bandage on his head. He extended his hand towards Adrien instead.

“Hey, man, I really am sorry for throwing up all over you,” Luka told Adrien. “I swear, I didn’t know it was coming.”

Adrien smiled ruefully as he shook Luka’s hand. “I’m used to it. Sometimes I think I have a target on my chest.”

“Serves you right for always wearing such expensive shoes,” Marinette huffed.

“They’re comfy!” Adrien protested.

Luka chuckled and looked at Marinette, taking in the uniform and trying to recalibrate his mental image of her to include this new information. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed like it should have been; she’d always had that something about her that said she could do anything, and she was certainly fit enough to be hauling people around, and the impulse to help people fit in with her sweet nature.

He really hadn’t thought he could fall any harder, but looking at her now—staring at her, he realized abruptly—he accepted that this hole was a lot deeper than he’d realized.

Marinette leaned over the side of his bed and reached toward his hair. “May I?” she asked, and at Luka’s nod, she parted his hair to peek under his bandage at the stitches. She was close enough that Luka could smell the faintest hint of sweet vanilla even past all the medical smells. The monitor began to beep warningly again and Luka thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Her fingers skimmed his cheek as she lowered her hands. “It looks good. You probably won’t even notice it with your hair covering it.”

“Thanks,” Luka said stupidly, not really sure how one was supposed to react to a compliment on how well one’s head was sewn back together.

“How do you feel?” she asked, straightening a little.

“Not too bad,” Luka shrugged. “Still have a headache, but it’s much better.”

Marinette frowned. “What are they giving you for pain?” She looked at the board in his room without waiting for him to answer, and gave a slight sigh. “Well, that should fade soon, hopefully. As long as your imaging came back normal—” Luka nodded. “—it should just be a question of paperwork.” She laid her hand over his and squeezed. “You should be back behind the bar in no time. No more fights though, okay? You scared me, when we got the call for your address.”

“Sorry.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I wasn’t wishing to see you, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Marinette giggled, her eyes darting away and her teeth catching her lip for a moment before she looked back at him, a bright smile slowly growing across her face. For a moment they just stared at each other. Adrien raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets, wandering back across the room.

Luka barely noticed. Marinette was looking at him and he had never seen her eyes so soft before. Except—except that one moment when she’d been leaning over him on the gurney, and she’d promised him he was going to be okay, and then she’d looked up at Adrien and said take care of him for me…

He was so transfixed by her eyes that he didn’t react to her leaning over the bed until he felt her hand on his chest and her breath on his face, and then he only had time to gasp and close his eyes as her lips found and caressed his in a soft and tender kiss. He leaned into it as much as he dared, and managed to move his mouth to kiss her back, electric thrills moving through him.

He followed her when she pulled back, and opened his eyes to stare at her in wonder as her lips left his.

“I’m dying,” he said flatly. “I’m dying and no one wants to tell me, is that it?”

Marinette giggled. “No more than everyone else.” Then she actually blushed and looked down. “I’ve maybe been thinking about doing that for a while now.” She glanced up through her lashes and a truly wicked smile slowly spread. “And trust me, when you actually are going to die, you’ll know it.”

Luka’s attempt at a reply became a strangled noise at the back of his throat.

There was a quiet cough from the other side of the room, where Adrien was turning red attempting to hold in his laughter. “I’m getting the feeling you didn’t actually need a wingman here,” he said.

“Take a walk, Adrien,” Marinette said in a warning tone, and leaned in to kiss Luka again. Luka moved to meet her, lips parting eagerly as he buried the hand not covered in wires in her hair, only vaguely aware of Adrien’s gusty sigh and the sound of the door opening and closing, or the rapidly accelerating beep of his heart rate monitor again.

Somewhere in the haze Luka realized he wasn’t on shift, and anyway Marinette had kissed him first, and Anarka’s rules didn’t matter anymore.

“Hey,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Want to—mm—get coffee sometime? After they let me out of here.”

“I’d love to,” Marinette sighed, and kissed him again. She giggled. “You should have told me about that stupid rule sooner. All this time, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.” She pulled back and blinked for a moment, and bit her lip. “Um. I should probably tell you that I told my boss you’re my boyfriend.” She shrugged. “If I start dating you after you’ve been my patient, it’s weird, but if we were dating before that, then it’s just unfortunate coincidence, so…”

“I’m cool with that,” Luka said quickly. “Very cool.” They grinned like fools at each other for a moment, and then moved to kiss again.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head in. “Mr. Couffaine? We’ve been getting an alarm from your monitor—” She paused, taking in Marinette’s wrecked hair and two blushing faces. “Oh.”

Marinette giggled, hiding her face in his shoulder, and Luka groaned. “How much do I need to bribe you to turn that damn thing off for the next f—” he glanced at Marinette. “Ten minutes?”

The nurse rolled her eyes, but winked at them. “Just remember you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she admonished, crossing the room and unplugging the monitor from the wall. “If anyone asks, you’re in the bathroom.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luka grinned as the nurse shut the door behind her, pulling Marinette back in.

#quickspins #i'll never not know you #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #birthday big bang

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snek-snacc-ficc · 3 years

Text

Fare and Unfairness

Summary: As the embodiment of Greed, Janus is no stranger to doing whatever he pleases to satisfy his desires. A craving for delicious food is one such desire with an especially simple remedy, that just so happens to come with the added bonus of visiting Patton.

Pairings: Moceit, implied Intrulogical

Words: 2,010

Janus didn't have a problem taking what he wanted when he wanted it. It was a given being the physical incarnation of Greed. But, sometimes, the sheer effort of having to maneuver his way to his prize was more than he was willing to give. Perhaps it was just another example of his self-serving ways, wanting to hoard everything including his own time. If asked outright he'd jokingly suggest that he suffered the same issue that afflicted Logan, the only one of them who represented two Sins, and that a part of Sloth still remained with him from the time when all seven Sins were the same being. In truth, it simply mattered little to him how he obtained what he desired as long as he obtained it at all. If someone was going to hand him what he wanted on a silver platter he was in no place to complain. Which is why he found himself in the kitchen of Patton's earthly residence when he was hit with a particularly strong craving for lavish wines and rich food, not wanting to bother with wasting hours searching for a human with enough skill to make it for him.

"Hmm," Patton looked thoughtfully at both bottles in his hands. "Would you prefer Bordeaux or Rioja?"

Janus eyed the dishware set hanging atop the wall above the sink with a much too admiring look. "Whatever you think is best, my dear," he said, waving offhandedly. "Is that design made of real gold?"

"What?" Patton asked, glancing up to where Janus's gaze laid. "Oh, yes! More for show than anything, but it sure is pretty."

"Indeed." Janus slowly trailed his eyes away and back to Patton.

Patton didn’t react to his guest looking like he was plotting to rob him blind, much more enthralled with choosing a wine. He observed both bottles for another moment, before shrugging and setting both on the dining table. "Well no harm in splurging a bit, why not both?" he chirped, reaching to the counter for a wine glass for each of them.

Janus chuckled lightly. "Always such a generous host. I'm surprised the Angels haven't made an exception and taken you as one of their own."

Patton huffed, giving the corkscrew a firm twist. "You would think, wouldn't you? Out of all the things in humanity to make a Sin, the Heavens choose a harmless little thing like Gluttony."

"Oh?" Janus quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of bitterness I hear from such a seemingly sweet-heart? Do you think yourself Holier than the rest of us?"

"Of course not!" Patton insisted. "Frankly, I think all of their rules are foolish in some way. But out of all the things to punish, why a little self-indulgence?" He went for the Spanish wine first, pouring a glass for Janus and then one for himself. He took his own seat at the opposite end of the table and gave a snap of his fingers. In an instant the table was filled with trays of food. A beautiful, dripping prime rib sat at the center, surrounded by sides of creamy mashed potatoes and gravy, Yorkshire pudding, garlic-parsnip purée, and an assortment of vegetables prepared in nearly every way imaginable, from roasted to slathered in butter and sauteed with bacon.

Janus nearly moaned at the feast in front of them, the heavenly smells wafting through the air further confirming in his mind Patton's skills to be far more angelic than infernal. He took the time to fold his cloth napkin in his lap, and not hesitating a second longer on filling his plate.

"Continue Dear," he said, spooning out a healthy portion of truffled brussel sprouts. "I don't think I've ever heard anything akin to frustration from you until now and I'm curious to hear more. What brought all this on?"

"It's nothing much, I suppose," Patton said as he began to carve into the meat. "It's just I had a run-in with that Emile a few weeks ago and I swear it sets me off everytime I see them. You know they-"

Janus almost choked, wearing a rare expression of genuine concern he'd never dare let anyone but Patton see. "I wouldn't call an encounter with a Head Angel 'nothing much!' They didn't try anything with you, did they?"

"No, no, nothing happened," Patton said quickly to quench his fears, "I heard their lot has been trying to keep the peace with our bunch. They don't want to cause any other-worldly problems when they can hardly handle this new plague on Earth, or whatever the humans are calling it."

Janus's face melted back into relaxation.

The corners of Patton's mouth twitched upward at the subtle display. Notes of true affection from Janus were few and far between, so much so he doubted anyone but him ever picked up on them, but he cherished those moments where the other let bits of his heart slip through the cracks of his usual facade.

"Anyway," he continued, "They looked like they had an apprentice with them. Remy, I think his name was. I'd never seen him before and mistook him for just another human in the park with his true form covered."

Janus clicked his tongue. "Consciousness Darling, you have to work on it."

“I was getting to that,” Patton said indignantly. “It just so happens I had gotten my hands on a box of these lovely gourmet chocolates I was dying to try and got a little...distracted.”

Janus brought a forkful of mushroom risotto to his lips, barely holding back a smile. “Ah, I see. Completely understandable.”

“And you know what,” Patton said, ignoring the sarcastic quip, “I hadn’t even set out that day to tempt anyone. I thought: Why not leave the humans alone, just this once? They create plenty of Sin on their own, no help from me necessary.” He poured himself another glass of wine, the passion in his voice a testament to how much the alcohol was already starting to affect him. “So when I spot this kid looking around everywhere all disoriented I decided to offer him a chocolate. One, single, completely innocent chocolate, just to perk him up a little cause he looked like he needed it. And right when I go up to him, Emile swoops in from out of nowhere and knocks the box right out of my hands, telling me to stop trying to tempt their pure apprentice like I do the humans.”

Janus gave a sound of acknowledgment. “And how exactly did this specific incident set you off down this ‘Gluttony shouldn’t be sinful’ path?”

“It’s the principle of it Janus! To think that they view such a minor indulgence as a bad thing. And then they hold the humans to the same standard. They have such short, insignificant little lives, and they waste it on concepts like ‘moderation,’ and ‘dieting,’ hoping it’ll be enough to please those stuck-ups. Humans, more than anyone, should be able to soak up every last bit of pleasure from their cuisine while they can. Why, if I were a human, I’d eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it.”

By the time the tirade was over Janus had cleared his plate. He polished off the last bit of his wine and released a satisfied sigh. “You already do that Dear,” he said, taking on a soft, sympathetic tone. “And it’s no use lamenting the sorrows Heaven inflicts on humanity; Just be grateful we can nudge them towards their own pleasure once in a while.”

“I guess so.” Patton sulked while finishing his own meal and snapping the table clean.

“Funny,” Janus teased in an attempt to get Patton’s mind on something else, “I wouldn’t have thought you the type to forget dessert.”

As expected, his energy brightened up at the mention. “You’re right, I never asked you what you wanted. Any preferences?”

Janus thought through various options, drumming his fingers on the table. “I was rather partial to that lava cake we had in France.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a dessert plate with the cake appeared in front of him.

“Toppings?” Patton asked, already doctoring up his own cake with whipped cream and berries.

“Just powdered sugar, thank you.”

A silver shaker popped up next to his plate. He took it, sifting only a small sprinkle overtop before cutting into the miniature cake. It was even more moist than he remembered, and the center of molten chocolate oozing out was the perfect viscosity. It only took one bite for him to conclude that even the five-star Parisian restaurant they had visited didn’t hold a candle to the food Patton could create on a whim.

“Have you heard from any of the other’s lately?” He asked, eager to get the ball rolling for a bit of after-dinner gossip (his personal favorite topic of conversation).

Patton shook his head. “I haven’t had the chance to. Aside from you, I’ve only seen Virgil recently, and that was months ago.”

A delighted, devilish smirk blossomed on Janus’s face. “So I take it you haven’t heard about the...hard time Logan has had as of late.”

“No, is he okay?” Patton asked, voice laced with worry, “What happened?”

“He’s just fine,” Janus said, reveling in the anticipation, “Let’s just say that it appears there’s a reason he’s so fond of the color blue.”

He recounted the entire story Roman had told him about Logan’s budding temptation towards Lust, much to Patton’s shock and amusement.

“I never would have expected those two,” Patton said, getting up and waving away their dishes once they were finished, “But I’m happy for them. It sounds like they’re enjoying themselves.”

Janus hummed in agreement, stretching as he too stood up. “The food was wonderful as always Darling, thank you,” he said, leaning over to give Patton a gentle peck on the cheek.

His face, already flushed from the wine, turned a shade darker. “Leaving so soon?”

“You know the drill,” Janus replied, “Temptations to be made, Angels to corrupt, humans to swindle. Perhaps if I’m feeling especially virtuous I’ll borrow you a gift from somewhere in return for the lovely meal.”

Patton, who had been sinking into the other’s touch, suddenly jerked back. “That reminds me,” he said, “Wait just a second.” He snapped once and a gift bag filled with glittery tissue paper materialized in his hand. “Here.”

Confused, Janus peeled away the top layers of the tissue paper, peeking inside. Everything was sealed up tightly in bubble wrap, but through the translucent covering he could make out a familiar design. He looked up above the sink where the gold accented dish set from earlier had hung, the wall now dotted only with semi-visible outlines of where it had once been.

Patton giggled at his surprise. “You aren’t nearly as sly as you think you are,” he said. “And I don’t care whether I eat off of solid diamond or a paper plate as long as the food is good, so they’re really no use to me.” He winked. “Besides, I think I actually quite enjoy feeding your desires.”

There was a beat where Janus simply stared stunned and silent at Patton, who, in turn, looked to him with all the tenderness in the world.

Janus moved with his free hand, rushing forward to cup Patton's face and connecting their lips in a deep kiss.

“Every single being in Heaven is an idiot for not making you one of their own,” Janus whispered when they had just barely parted.

“Maybe not,” Patton said lightly, “Maybe they have incredible foresight. In any existence I would have ended up Falling for you anyway.”

Janus pulled them in for another kiss, pushing his previous priorities to the back of his mind. He was Greed after all, it was only natural for him to go after his desires. And if what he wanted was right in front of him for the taking then he certainly wasn’t going to refuse the offer.

---

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you're interested in this AU I do plan on creating a collection of one-shots for it, so be sure to be on the lookout for those.

Here's just a couple quick notes on the writing itself that I thought might be confusing:

-Fare, as written in the title, refers to food.

-The "Sins" in this AU were once combined into a single physical being. However, as humanity grew in size it became increasingly harder for one being to manage the responsibilities for all seven Sins at once. The internal conflict caused a split to occur, with individual vessels being created for each Sin. The only exception is Logan, who represents both Wrath and Envy. The two Sins compliment each other well, so it's easy for them to work in tandem as one. A similar occurrence happened with Pride and Lust (Roman and Remus) at first, but ultimately fell apart later on.

-The color blue, referenced in the short mention of Logan near the end, is often attributed as the color of lust.

#sanders sides #cartoon therapy #moceit #Janus Sanders #patton sanders #intrulogical #Greed!Janus #gluttony!patton

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woodrokiro · 3 years

Text

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse.

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place.

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte.

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work.

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations.

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation.

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know.

She knows.

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break.

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light.

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs.

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters.

“A table for one, miss?”

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back.

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.”

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu.

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to.

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche.

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?”

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?”

“Any recommendations?”

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response.

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.”

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own.

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned.

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs.

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.”

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits.

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?”

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?”

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner.

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order.

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to.

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away.

Bartenders are absolutely off limits.

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her.

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

#bleach #ichiruki #irmonth2021 #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #may or may not be multi chapter if I'm being reeeal #but this was fun so maybe

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rekquiemredstar · 3 years

Text

Victims

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings:Fluff,mention of trauma,rape(not by Bucky), torture. (No mention of rape in this chapter but will be in future ones)

Description: You discover you may have misjudged Bucky.

This is my first Chapter of an idea I’ve been wanting to play out for a while now. More to come very soon.

Chapter 1: Sleep

Bucky didn’t talk much.

Especially not to you. “He wasn’t always like this.” Steve had said to you once in passing, his keen senses picking up on just how tense your shoulders got whenever Bucky had blatantly ignored you. Good old Steve, not a bad word to say about anyone. You tried to brush it off, but you really hated being ignored. It made you feel like a pathetic, over excited puppy dog nipping at everyones heels for attention. You were loud, and blunt, and very aware of how much social space you took up when you engaged in conversation. You had no doubt it was annoying. Many times you tried to curb your hyper behavior, but that was exhausting, and eventually you had to come to the conclusion that that was just you. You were who you were, and everyone-save Bucky-adored you. That was on him, you couldn’t change how he felt.

You weren’t quite sure how to approach Barnes, having only ever known him as The Asset before you all came to the compound. The first time you met, he’d lifted you off the ground with a metal hand to your throat. He would have snapped your neck if Steve hadn’t gotten him off of you. You really hated that, too. You wanted so desperately not to need saving, ever. You were strong, but you were no Super Soldier, and the overly competitive parts of you reeled against that with everything they had. You did not need to be saved. Not by Steve or anyone.

You weren’t the only one on the team without powers. You learned from shared experience it didn’t make you any less essential. Just hurt like a son of a bitch sometimes. Like Bucky, you had been taken by Hydra against your will. Unlike Bucky-you hadn’t been brainwashed. Just tortured. No matter how hard they pushed, no matter how many times you had been left bruised and bleeding on the icy concrete floor you never lost sight of what was right. When Hydra’s infiltration of Shield was out in the open, and they released the Winter Soldier into the world again you felt like it was the moment you had been waiting for. Suddenly everything they had taught you about weapons and hand to hand became a brutal mistake on their part. When Nick Fury learned about the things you had done, what you knew, seen you in action, he made sure you and Steve Rogers got acquainted. After that, you never had to look for a job a day in your life. Now you were here.

It wasn’t yet light out when you headed down the stairs, dressed in a black running gear from head to toe, all the way down to your shoes that were propped against the wall in waiting. Your socks were actually the only colorful thing you had on, red white and blue donning the captain America shield, an ongoing joke between you and Steve.

You were always up before anyone else, craving the silence and peace you felt in the early morning, beginning your usual run just as the sun crested the hilltops. Your workout regimen was insanely strict, you beat yourself up whenever you ran late, often feeling guilty about it the rest of the day. Absentmindedly, you bobbed your head to the song playing in your headphones, doing your best to keep relatively quiet as you mixed up your pre-workout in a shaker bottle. You spun to set it on the counter beside you, jumping when you noticed the outline of a figure sitting across from you.

“Jesus,” you said more to yourself than to him, lowering your headphones to around the base of your neck. You popped the cap of your bottle and rolling your shoulders. Taking your first sip of caffeine, you held his stare.

“You scared me, man.”

Bucky said nothing, though his eyes widened slightly- the only indication that he had heard you at all. He sat straight and rigid behind the marble countertop, but he looked…softer somehow. His lips parted slightly, exhaling a short breath, then pressed together gently. His grey henley was wrinkled and disheveled, his hands laid flat on his thighs, as though he was awaiting his next order.

“Are you going for a run?” He asked in such a tender tone that you blinked twice before you processed that it was even him speaking. You weren’t even aware that he knew you ran. You weren’t even aware he knew you existed half the time.

“Uh-yeah.” You responded cautiously, swirling the contents of your bottle to incorporate the undissolved powder at the bottom. Bucky gave a small nod, greasy strands of dark hair falling into his eyes as he did so. Dark circles plagued in under-eyes, while the glass blue of his irises looked dull and worn. He looked rough, even for him. You always thought he was the best looking one here, but it’s a little hard to appreciate someones looks when all they ever do is disregard you. Now that you got a really good look at him, even with the obvious sleep deprivation, you could see just how handsome he really was.

“You go every day?” The Soldier’s next question pulled you from your drifting thoughts and you had a question of your own; why did he care? The longest conversation you had ever had with this man was the time he asked you to pass the A1 and that was a month ago.

“Six days a week,” you started, with caffeine running through your brain you were unable to keep yourself from over-explaining.

“Wednesdays are my rest days, It’s the only day I get to sleep in but I usually don’t. I hate taking rest days, but it’s better for your body if you do.”

You finished your drink and set the bottle in the sink for now, you would wash it later. You were ready to abandon this weird fucking conversation. Sliding your headphones back over your ears, you pulled out your phone and started to search for a song to run to when you glanced up and noticed the look on his face. You hadn’t been through anything close to what he had, but you knew a thing or two about trauma. You definitely knew that look from all the times you’d seen it in your reflection.

You paused your music and took the headphones down again, setting them on the counter this time.

“Are you okay?” You asked, pressing your hips against the ledge, leaning your palms on the counter, ready to listen. The sincerity of your voice threw him off. He was so used to being on the outside looking in, watching you make your sarcastic quips to everyone, chuckling to himself when no one was looking. He was always blown away by just how clever you were, and how quick your mind worked. He didn’t think he could keep up in a conversation with you in a million years. It wasn’t often Sargent Barnes was intimidated. You were fiery, and tough, funny as hell-and you didn’t take shit from anyone.

Bucky had heard from Steve that you had a big heart, but he had never seen the softer side of you.

His eyes were shiny when he looked up at you, his voice echoed with defeat.

“I don’t know how I got here.” He said quietly.

“I don’t want to move. I-“ His voice choked a little.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.”

You felt your heart squeeze in your chest. God, what this poor man had endured. He had been told where to go, what to do, what to say- for years he had been controlled. Now he was free, and he was confused, scared. Hydra was no walk in the park, but you get used to the routine of torment and control. You knew better than anyone what that was like.

“How long have you been down here?” You asked. He was still, then he responded.

“A few hours, I think.” He didn’t look at the clock, just stared straight ahead. He must have gotten up in the middle of the night from a bad dream.

You sucked in a small breath through your teeth, then exhaled, letting the tension release from between your shoulder blades.

“Okay,” You said quietly, setting your phone down and rounding the side of the counter. Your run could wait a little while.

“Okay. That’s okay. Do you want me to help you back to you room?” Bucky shook his head.

“I think I broke a mirror. Glass everywhere.” You nodded, making a mental note to clean it up when you got back.

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, increasing in rhythm. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.” He repeated, and you slid your hand toward him on the counter, leaning on your elbow so you were face level with him.

“Hey,” Your voice was soft, calm, even. It encouraged him to stay the same by your example.

“It’s alright, I’m going to help you.”

You had your mission now, heading back to the kitchen you put the tea kettle on, then opened the freezer, taking out the frozen eye mask Tony sometimes used for hangovers. You dug into the cabinet taking out two peppermint tea bags from your hidden stash, dropping one in the nearest mug, and tucking one in your sweatshirt pocket.

You were beside him again, moving the ice pack toward his forehead. Bucky jerked backward with a quick inhale, and you drew your arm inward. You remembered his mask. “I’m just going to put it on your forehead.” You murmured. Bucky’s bottom lip quivered. “Don’t put that on me, please.” Your fingers curled, and you nodded in understanding.

“Okay, okay, one sec.” You jogged back into the kitchen and traded the ice pack for two large chunks of ice.

“Let’s try this instead.”

Bucky watched you carefully, your well muscled legs flexing as you busied yourself in the kitchen. He had been distantly aware that you were in good shape, but your normal black cargo pants must have hid a lot from view, because now that he was seeing you in the leggings you wore to run-he couldn’t stop looking. God damn, you really took care of yourself. His eyes snapped back up when you turned around again. You were careful to switch the stove off before the kettle wailed, pouring hot water into the mug and sliding it in font of him. Steam swirled from the cup and the soldier caught a whiff of mint.

You were in front of him again, conscious not to make too many sudden movements. “Turn toward me.” You instructed, and he followed orders, allowing you to stand between his legs as you soothed a cube of ice over each of his temples. His eyes fluttered slightly, the frozen temperature sent a shock of relief down his spine. He couldn’t hold back the pained groan as it erupted from his chest when you moved your fingers in slow circles, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“Y’know,” You began. “Before I was here, before any of this, I worked at a mental facility for at-risk teenagers.”

Bucky’s brow knit. He had always assumed that with your skills with firearms and combat that you had always been in some sort of covert ops position. He was realizing just how little he knew about you. Steve talked about you sometimes, but his jaw had always been real tight when it came to your past. “Drugs, alcohol, suicide, abuse-I hated it, it was too hard on me mentally-but I learned a lot. Most importantly, I learned that when you press something cold to your temple or forehead, it sends a shock to your neurotransmitters. Basically telling your system that you’re in pain, countering panic by releasing chemicals into the body that slow down the release of cortisol and adrenaline.”

The dark haired man soaked in every word you said . He knew you talked a lot, but you’d never talked this much to him before, and he was eating it up. Bucky had always like the sound of your voice. He didn’t even mind the melting water running down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“You can also bite down on a lemon wedge. ” You offered, taking the cubes of ice away and tossing them into the sink. You pulled your sweatshirt sleeve over the heel of your hand and dabbed the water away, he leaned into your touch this time.

“Or smell strong peppermint.” You said, gently lifting his metal arm by the wrist and snatching the packet of tea from your pocket, dropping it in his shiny palm.

“It’s called grounding.” You stated, motioning for him to try.

Hesitantly, the soldier brought his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply. He looked back at you with one grateful nod. It helped. You pointed curtly to the cabinet by the fridge.

“I always keep a box of tea in there, it’s shoved way in the back because someone keeps taking it, probably Sam, but you’re welcome to as much as you’d like.” You slid the now perfect temperature tea into his free hand.

“Drink it, It always helps calm me down.”

Bucky took two greedy gulps, downing about half it’s contents in one go and making you giggle. It made his eyelids heavy.

“C’mon, Sergeant Barnes.” You coaxed, beckoning him to follow you into the other room. When he stood, you had to take a step back. You weren’t exactly the shortest person, but even so, had always worn tactical boots around him and they added a couple inches to your height. With you just in socks, you realized how much he towered over your five foot seven stature. It both scared and excited you. You edged a foot backward, circling it behind yourself and swaying your weight on it as if you were ready for him to take a swing at you. He eyed your stance momentarily before you broke and softened again, shaking out fists you hadn’t even realized you’d clenched. You didn’t trust him yet.

Wordlessly, you led him to the couch. His footsteps behind you were lighter than you thought they would be, but of course he had both stealth and brute force on his side. That sent a tingle down your stomach that you chose to ignore.

“Lay down.” You said as you dragged the coffee table closer to the couch. Bucky did as he was told, his burned out mind thankful to have some sort of direction. His eyes were half lidded and languorous, the long forgotten feeling of sleep pulling at the edges of his bruised psyche. His eyes tracked your every move. His stare somewhat lazy with fatigue, but right on target like the skilled sniper you’d seen in action so many times.

“Try to get some sleep.” Your voice was still soft, but brimmed with anticipation for your upcoming workout. Bucky felt a sudden pang of guilt for keeping you back an extra half hour. He glanced over his shoulder at the window, seeing through the gap in the shades that the sun was already up.

“I’ll check in with you when I get back.” You added, taking a large cashmere blanket from the nearby armchair and draping it over him. He hadn’t been tucked into bed in over 70 years.

You scampered back to the kitchen to retrieve his mug, but when you set it down on the table and looked at his face, he was already asleep.

“Sleep well, Sergeant.” You said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes were open the minute you turned your back, watching as you pulled your shoes on and jogged out the door. He craned his neck so he could watch you take off down the neatly paved road.

It was only when you were completely out of sight that he finally let himself fall asleep.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #avengers #sebastian stan #Bucky barnes romance #Bucky #bucky barnes angst #the winter solider x reader

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hardcasey · 3 years

Text

Party Hardy

Won’t Fade into the Background - Part 7

Pairing: Boost x Reader

Summary: The Wolfpack attends their first house party and an accident brings you closer to one of them.

Word Count: 3.2k

Ratings/Warnings: T, warnings for alcohol consumption and smoochin'

A/N: This is a follow up of sorts to the last chapter with Sinker. It was inspired by the story of how Alan Alda met his wife, which is very funny and cute. I thought the premise fit our resident stinky boy, Boost, which is how I ended up with whatever this is. Enjoy~

They could feel the pulse of the bass two floors below their destination. The Wolfpack - sans their leader, who was too busy ‘writing reports’ (aka being a party pooper) - climbed up the narrow stairway to reach the party Sinker’s girlfriend and her roommates were throwing in their apartment.

They all could tell what door it was without Sinker even telling them the room number, the lights flashing under the door were a dead giveaway. There was a couple outside the door, a human woman leaning up against the wall and chatting up a pretty green-skinned twi’lek. They didn’t spare a second glance at the passing troopers, save for a quick nod that Sinker returned.

He was about to knock when Comet piped up, “Uh, are you sure this is a good idea? We could just head back to the barracks, it’s not too late.”

“What, are you scared?” Boost teased, nudging his brother with his shoulder.

Comet pushed Boost away before replying, “I’m not scared, I’m just… We’ve never been to a civvie house party before. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Just think of it like going to 79’s, only with less rules,” Sinker reassured him before knocking on the door. It swung open immediately, one of the people near the door opening it and inviting them in.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Comet muttered under his breath as he followed his brothers through the doorway.

The party was packed, humans and non-humans alike crammed into every available space, chatting and drinking and dancing to the loud music that blared through a set of speakers. The air was slightly hazy from the group of people tucked in a corner and passing around a joint. The three troopers stood in the doorway for a moment, stupefied as they took in their surroundings.

“Alright, I just messaged my girlfriend to let her know we’re here. She said to meet her at the bar,” Sinker informed them.

“Wherever that is,” Boost sighed, standing on his tiptoes to try and see over the sea of people.

Comet decided on a different tactic, instead flagging down a nearby Mirialan who had a drink in their hands. “Hey, do you know where the bar is?” He asked, having to shout to be heard over the music.

The Mirialan pointed towards the back of the room and gave Comet a cheeky wink, the rest of their friend group giggling behind them. Comet blushed and was about to respond with something flirty when Boost grabbed him by the collar and started tugging him towards the bar.

It took a while as the clones squeezed through the crowds of people, but eventually they made it to the bar, which was really just a fold out table stacked with booze. Sinker’s girlfriend was nowhere to be found, so the group decided to grab a drink while they waited.

~~~

You stood behind the makeshift bar, bouncing in place to the beat of the music as you mixed up a drink in the cocktail shaker. One of your roommates had shoved a pair of huge novelty light up sunglasses onto your face at some point in the night and you had a bunch of plastic bead necklaces around your neck, your collection growing as more and more people offered you them.

You had volunteered to work the bar tonight, hoping to show off the skills you’d picked up after taking a mixology class you’d found a coupon for. You thought you’d be tired of making drinks by now, but it was surprisingly fun. You got to chat with everyone as they waited and you’d even gotten a few tips. There was also the added benefit of having access to all the booze you could want, and even though you knew you weren’t really supposed to get drunk off your own supply, who could blame you for taking a few shots here or there?

Maybe you were drunker than you realized, though, since you swore you were seeing double all of a sudden. Wait, make that triple. A group of three identical looking men moseyed up to your table, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for how long it took you to not only realize they were in fact three separate people and not one guy, but also that you knew one of them.

“Hey, Sinker! How’s it going?” You greeted the white-haired clone loudly, straining to be heard over the thumping bass.

Sinker greeted you and introduced you to his fellow clones, his ‘brothers’ as he liked to call them. The two of you had interacted only a handful of times - usually he was too busy macking on your roommate in her room - but he’d always been polite and kind.

“This is Boost,” Sinker pointed his thumb towards the clone sporting a set of wild-looking double mohawks, “and this is Comet,” he pointed to the clone with a shooting-star tattoo on his temple.

You waved at them with both of your hands. “Well, Comet, Boost, and Sinker, can I get you anything to drink?” You motioned to the chalkboard listing all the drink specials you were offering, each one of them complete with a little drawing to go with it. It had taken you much longer than you cared to admit to make it, but it had been worth it in the end.

The boys crowded around to get a better look at the drinks listed. “Naboo Sunset… Jedi Mind Trick… Outer Rim… These are some fancy drinks, I’ve never heard of ‘em before.” Boost commented as he read the names aloud.

“Well what liquor do you prefer? The Naboo Sunset and Outer Rim are tequila based and the Jedi Mind Trick has vodka.” You’d had this same conversation several times tonight, enough you could recite what was in each drink without thinking.

“Which one is the prettiest one?” Boost asked after thinking about it for a second. He wasn’t choosy with his liquor, couldn’t afford to be when all he had access to was whatever someone put in front of him at 79s.

Comet raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Really?”

“C’mon. You’ve seen some of those crazy drinks people order at 79s! The ones with all the colors. This could be our only chance to try one for free.” His head shot up all of a sudden as if he just remembered something, “Wait, these are free, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. “Yup, totally free. Though I do take tips in the form of credits or in particularly cool bead necklaces.”

“Sweet!” Boost pumped his fist in excitement, making Comet roll his eyes, though he couldn’t contain the smile on his lips.

“If you want something colorful you should try the Naboo Sunset. It has a bunch of different colored liquors layered on top of one another. Very pretty,” You suggested.

“Okay, I’ll have that one,” Boost agreed. “What are you getting, Com?”

“I’m torn between a Jedi Mind Trick or an Outer Rim. What about you, Sinker?”

Sinker considered for a second. “You get the Jedi Mind Trick and I’ll get the Outer Rim and we can share them.”

“Okay, one Naboo Sunset, one Jedi Mind Trick, and one Outer Rim coming right up.” You told them as you started grabbing bottles.

Just as you began mixing Boost’s drink, you saw a flash of red in your peripheral vision as your roommate ran past and all but tackled Sinker. Had he not been a soldier you were pretty sure he’d be flat on his back right now, but he was strong enough to catch her with one arm as she launched herself at him.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a lopsided grin as he spun her around, “I brought the ice you asked for.”

“My savior!” She said as he set her back on her feet, pecking him on the lips before taking the ice from him and quickly handing it over to you to deal with so she could go back to hugging her boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes at them as you cut open the bag and dumped the ice into the almost empty ice bucket. When you turned back to your task, you caught Boost and Comet’s eye and the three of you exchanged a look.

“I’m really gonna need that drink if we have to deal with this all night,” Boost quipped, making the three of you burst out into laughter.

“I’m on it, darling,” you reassured him as you hurried to make their drinks.

The boys kept you company as you worked, sharing silly stories that had you nearly crying with laughter. You had the three drinks ready in record time, though by the time you finished it didn’t seem like SInker would be able to pry himself away from his girlfriend long enough to take a sip.

“Well, I guess you get both drinks then,” you told Comet as you handed him his and Sinker’s drink.

“Be careful mixing alcohol, vod,” Boost warned before taking a long sip from his brightly colored drink, layered with shades of pink, orange, and yellow. His eyes had lit up like a toddler being handed a cookie when you gave him his glass, and by the way he was sucking it down he was enjoying it immensely.

“Or… you could go and bring one over to that Mirialan over there.” You pointed with your chin to motion towards the Mirialan they had met when they got here. “They’ve been making eyes at you this whole time. Plus, I know they really like the Jedi Mind Trick,” you offered with an eyebrow wiggle.

The two clones both turned to look at where you were pointing, and the Mirialan gave Comet a little wave. Comet waffled around for a bit until Boost elbowed him in the side and told him to go live a little.

“You’ll be alright without me?” Comet asked.

“Yup, I’ll be hanging out with our new friend here. Now go get ‘em, tiger.” With that, Boost shoved his brother towards the Mirialan. Once the two of you were alone, he turned to you, “Hope you don’t mind me keeping you company. The only other people I know here just ditched me!”

You laughed at his choice of words. “Of course not. If you want, I can teach you how to mix drinks.” He’d had a lot of questions for you as you prepared the drinks, wanting to know what every item did or what every step was for, so you thought he might find it fun. Plus, you could use a buddy at the bar now that things were slowing down somewhat. It seemed like everyone who wanted a drink had already gotten one and you only had to deal with those coming back for seconds.

“Sure! That sounds fun,” he said, rushing over to join you on your side of the table.

~~~

You weren’t sure how many hours had passed, but you and Boost made a countless number of drinks, some for the partygoers and some for yourselves. At some point in the night the two of you had sunk to the floor behind the drink table, both tired of making drinks and too busy talking with each other.

“What is this party even for anyway?” Boost asked between sips of the water you had forced him to drink. You’d given him your big light up sunglasses and the rim of the glass clanked against them as he brought it up to his face, knocking the glasses askew and making Boost frown dramatically.

You adjusted them for him before answering. “Uhh, I think it’s a birthday party.” He gave you a look as if to say how could you not know so you added, “It’s for a friend of a friend and I’m four Naboo Sunsets in, don’t give me that look.”

Boost nudged you with his shoulder as he laughed, and you were suddenly aware of just how close the two of you were, snuggled up together with your head on his shoulder. When had that happened? Not that you were complaining. All of the clones were attractive, but something about Boost was especially so. He was unapologetically himself, loud in both personality and looks. You’d asked him about the mohawks at some point and he’d told you they started off as a dare but he’d gotten attached. His brothers apparently liked to tease him about his crazy hairstyle but he wore it with pride. He said his hair made him stand out, which you could guess was important when you shared a face with millions of others.

The area behind the bar was a flurry of activity as your other roommates scrambled around grabbing snacks to pass out to everyone. One of them grabbed a cake from the fridge and started putting candles in it.

You got Boost’s attention and pointed it out to him. “See, I told you it was someone’s birthday.”

Not ten seconds after you said it, your roommate grabbed it off the counter and was ready to bring it out to whoever it was for when someone else bumped into them from behind, sending the cake flying. Everyone in the vicinity watched in horror as it sailed through the air before landing upside down on the floor with a splat. There was a chorus of shouts as everyone realized what had happened, the person who caused the accident apologizing profusely while others lamented the loss of the cake.

Once everyone got over their initial reactions, things settled down and your roommate rushed out to explain what had happened to the cake’s intended recipient. Everyone else in the room started debating what to do with the ruined cake.

“Are you really just gonna throw it out?” You asked sadly. You’d been eyeing that cake all morning and couldn’t wait to try a piece.

“Well yeah, it fell on the floor,” someone else responded.

“But there’s still a bunch of good cake left!” Not all of it was touching the floor, just the top portion. From your side you could hear Boost agree with you.

“If you want to eat it, be my guest.”

You thought about it for a second and looked over to Boost. “Wanna eat some floor cake?” He asked, handing you a fork.

You grabbed the fork and smiled at him, the two of you shuffling over to where the cake had fallen before digging in, careful to only eat parts that were safely away from the floor, and since it was a triple decker cake, there was a lot to choose from. You grabbed a big piece, making sure the cake to frosting ratio was acceptable, and held it out to Boost.

He gobbled it down in one bite. “Mmm, gourmet,” he joked, flashing you a huge smile before offering you a bite. “For you, my dear.”

You giggled in between bites of cake. “The dirt really adds a certain something.”

The two of you carried on like that for a while, ignoring the stares sent your way. You wished you could have blamed your suspect judgement on the alcohol, but you knew you would have probably done this when you were sober too, so you had no excuse. But you were happy you had someone by your side who was just as weird as you.

~~~

Sinker nudged his girlfriend. “Hey, I should check in with the guys. Just to make sure they are doing okay.” He hadn’t checked in with them in a while and was feeling a little guilty for abandoning them for so long.

“I think I saw Comet making out with someone a few minutes ago.” His girlfriend offered with a yawn. It was getting late and the party was starting to wind down. It was far less crowded now and there were people passed out on the couches nearby.

Sinker looked around and sure enough he found his brother in a corner, wrapped around the Mirialan they’d encountered earlier. Good for him, he thought, happy Comet had been able to come out of his shell after being so nervous about going to the party. He hated having to be the one to break them up, but it was getting time to head back. Wolffe had kindly reminded them they had an early morning training drill the next day as they were leaving for the party, his way of telling them to be home at a reasonable hour.

Once he had collected Comet, he set off to find Boost, knowing that out of the both of them Boost was way more likely to have gotten into trouble. After asking around a bit, they were pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Sinker ducked his head in the doorway only to find what felt like the worst case scenario, his brother surrounded by a huge mess. It took a second for his brain to process the fact that you and Boost were feeding each other bites of cake from the floor.

“Please tell me you didn’t cause this,” Sinker sighed.

“Nah, we’re helping clean up. Didn’t want it all to go to waste.” Boost explained from his position on the floor, his legs sprawled out and tangled with yours. That was an interesting development. He’d met you a few times and thought you were very nice, but he’d never in a million years have put you and Boost together. You seemed too… normal for his brother, though apparently that wasn’t actually true.

Sinker’s girlfriend poked her head in as well. “Awe, cute! Now smile you two, I want a picture,” she said before snapping a quick photo.

“It’s time to go, Boost. We gotta get up early tomorrow.” Sinker told him.

Boost turned to you. “I should help you clean up first. Like actually clean up.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with your C.O. Don’t worry about it,” you assured him.

“Okay,” He hesitated for a moment before starting to get to his feet.

“Wait!” You called after him. He turned back towards you and you took the opportunity to snatch the front of his shirt and drag him into a kiss. It started off tense, with you catching him by surprise, but he melted into it, his lips sweet with the taste of frosting. When you broke apart you added, “I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“Y-yeah,” Boost agreed, stumbling to his feet. Sinker and Comet were all but dragging him away but he resisted long enough to ask. “Wait, I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll give it to Sinker,” your roommate offered, and that was enough to get him out the door. She closed the door behind them before joining you on the floor. “I’m gonna show that picture at you two’s wedding,” she teased, a shit eating grin on her face. “Y’know, you have me to thank for introducing you. I expect you to name your first child in my honor.”

“Shut it,” you told her, taking a piece of cake and mushing it onto her cheek.

#boost x reader #clone trooper boost x reader #boost #clone trooper boost #star wars fanfic #clone wars fanfic #reader insert #i had a lot of fun with the silly drink names lmao #true love is eating cake of the ground with each other

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 3 years

Text

Nothing Says Romance Like Beer Pong.

Master List

"Do you think Johnny's here?" Ten has to yell at you to be heard over the pounding music.

"I think you're a little obsessed, my dude." You retort, the two of you make your way through the living room, which was currently being used as a dancefloor.

“Hey, Y/n, you made it!” Taeyong greets cheerily, stumbling over with a very grumpy looking Doyoung trailing behind him.

“Wouldn’t miss it, I heard Taeil went all out for drinks.” He bumps his shoulder against yours, almost spilling his drink on you.

“He did, Jungwoo’s playing bartender in the kitchen. And some of the guys are setting up for beer pong in the basement.” Doyoung explains.

“Then we’re going to get drinks, see you around.” Ten waves to them with Doyoung grumbling something about porcelain gods. “To the kitchen.” His hands land on your shoulders, pushing you through the crowd.

The kitchen is infinitely quieter than the living room, and also, significantly emptier. Yangyang is perched on the counter, playing on his switch, with Xiaojun on the floor by his feet, content on his phone. Jungwoo was chatting with Kun, who was leaning heavily on the porch railing just outside the back door.

“Good evening boys, you look bored.” You greet. Jungwoo notices you first, throwing his arms up in excitement, and sending Kun backwards over the railing into the bushes.

“Y/n! Ten! Hello my babies.” He nearly shouts, jumping on you for a hug. “Let me make you a drink, what are you feeling? Give me a challenge.”

“How about, a cosmo?” Ten asks, examining the bottle on the table.

“I said, a challenge.” Jungwoo scoffs, grabbing his shaker.

“I see bartendending school is paying off.” You compliment, “I’m thinking about a sunrise.”

“You two are so lame.” He huffs, “I know so many cocktails it would make your head spin.”

“Three classes.” Yangyang reminds him, “I’ve gone to the same amount of philosophy classes, and I’m no Socrates.”

“Yangyang, it’s been a full semester.” Ten reminds him, “You’re definitely failing that class.”

“Bold of you to assume that’s the only class I’m failing.”

“Kid.” The both of you sigh.

“Anyway, here you guys go.” Jungwoo hands you your drinks, “Oh and Ten, your boyfriend’s downstairs.”

“Johnny’s not my boyfriend.” Ten insists.

“I never said his name.” Jungwoo teases.

“You, go get Kun out of the bush, we’re gonna go find his not boyfriend.” You decide, pulling your friend towards the basement stairs. You bump into Johnny halfway down, almost dropping your drink on him.

“Oh good, you’re here, I need your help.” He turns and flies back down the stairs, “Yuta is way too good at beer pong, and I need you to help me beat him.”

“Whose Yuta?” You ask, joining him at the bottom of the stairs where you watch Mark getting decimated by a man with red hair. “Nevermind, question answered. Where’d you find this guy?”

“I guess Taeyong met him in Japan over the summer, he and two others transferred at the beginning of the year.” Johnny explains.

“How are you so good at this?” Mark whines as the ball lands in his last cup.

“I just am, kid. Who's next?” You stare at Yuta over the rim of your cup, as he and Taeil set up another round.

“I will.” Your voice makes most of the room's inhabitants look over at you, including Yuta and the round faced boy he was partnered with. Yuta makes no attempt to hide the way he checks you out, watching with his lip tucked between his teeth as you down the last of your drink.

“Yeah!” Mark cheers, stumbling towards you. “Y/n’s never lost a game.”

“Then this might actually be a challenge. I’m Yuta, this is Shotaro.” He introduces, his adorable friend waving cutely.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.” You hand Ten your empty cup, strolling over to the table as Taeil finishes pouring the last cup. You don’t even have to call your partner over, as Jaehyun is by your side already.

“Since I won my last game, I will let you have the first throw.”

“What a gentleman.” Your ball lands in his cup with a satisfying splash, and you can’t help the smirk that paints itself on your face. Yuta stares at you for a moment, his tongue poking his cheek, as he picks up the cup. Looking at him now, it would be a total lie to say he wasn’t attractive. “Still want to play me?”

“Oh, they’re flirting.” Mark realizes, as Yuta sinks another ball. He, and everyone else in the room watch you maintain eye contact with Yuta as you down the cup, cracking your knuckles on the table before grabbing another ball.

“Well good, lord knows Y/n needed a boy other than Ten.” Johnny huffs.

“Awe, are you jealous?” Ten teases.

“No, I just-” Johnny is cut off by one of the ping pong balls smacking against his cheek, sticking for a moment and falling off. He looks over to find you glaring at him, another ball already in your hand.

“Shut up.” You order. Yuta chuckles at your command, which has your glare turning on him.

“That was kinda hot.” He grins, not paying attention to Shotaro failing his shot, “Got any plans tomorrow night?” His grin doesn’t falter even as your ball lands in one of his three remaining cups.

“Well yeah.” You decide, watching him down the drink. “Cause if you win, I’ll let you take me to dinner.” His grin returns as he plops the cup into his empty stack.

“Well then, I’d better not miss.”

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagines #yuta imagine #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct imagines #nct imagine #nakamoto yuta imagines #nakamoto yuta imagine

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thedisneychef · 11 months

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Disney-Inspired Spinach Pesto and Lemon Pasta Recipe

It’s been awhile since I’ve done one of my original recipes… I’m not really sure why, honestly… I cook all the time. I guess it never occurs to me to document what I make anymore. I actually expect most folks here think I can’t cook without a Disney recipe in-hand (I know some of my friends are starting to wonder… LoL!). Truthfully, if some of the ladies that I speak with on the Facebook group “Losing it For the Mouse” hadn’t asked, I probably would have forgotten to share this one too… The irony being that this recipe owes a lot of it’s amazing flavoring to an amazing spice that I got at none other then Mickey’s Pantry at Downtown Disney… One of my favorite stores ever. First, a little back story… This New Years, I made the resolution to start a hobby I’ve always wanted to do, with an overall end goal I’ve wanted to do for years. This year, I decided to take up jogging and run the Wine and Dine Marathon in November. A lofty goal, for sure, and it’s resulted in a huge lifestyle change, including food. For support, I’ve been a frequent lurker, occasional commenter on “Losing it For the Mouse,” a fabulous group of folks who use Disney as motivator to seeking and maintaining a healthier lifestyle. Well, we were discussing our dinners, I mentioned I’d made this, and everybody wanted the recipe. While I was re-making the dish so that I could figure out my exact measurements and calculate the nutrition info (5 points per serving, assuming 5 servings from the recipe… 6 points if divided into 4 servings), it suddenly dawned on me… Duh… The seasoning I’m using I got at Disney. So, in a “6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon” sort of way, this is a Disney recipe. Kinda. Sorta. For those who don’t spend as much time at Downtown Disney as I do, there’s a great store called Mickey’s Pantry right next door to Earl of Sandwich, and it features all sorts of fantastic kitchen gear. Cups, cookbooks, dining sets, serving tools… All of it themed out to Disney. In the corner, there’s a little nook that belongs to The Spice and Tea Company, and it’s got all of these gorgeous, unique, spices, teas, sugars, and seasonings. Seriously, it’s a chef’s dream. I’m like a kid in a candy store whenever I visit there. I know they’re a chain, so for those who’ve missed this treasure trove, check their website for a location near your area. They’re for sure worth a nice, long look. Anyway, one of the spices that I just had to grab was one of their signature blends called “Florida Sunshine.” Seeing as one of my favorite flavor profiles to cook with is citrus, and this is made with a combination of (from their website) “ginger, green peppercorns, rosebud petals, salt, lemon zest, lime zest and orange zest,” I had to grab a bottle, and it was one of the first spice sets I used when I came home. The flavor has that definite citrus, but the combination of the ginger and rose petals creates a unique taste that, I think, is out-of-this-world. I use it on everything now, this dish included. So… Long story just to share that I created this healthy meal because of my decision to run a half marathon, seasoned with a spice shaker I got at Disney. My inspiration for this dish was fresh ingredients, fast to make, with a lot of flavor, while still being healthy. I had a ton of spinach on-hand because our local grocery store had it on sale (40 cents a pound… Seriously, I have a ton), and I’m one of those odd creatures that always has fresh lemons in the house. Something about a nice, fresh, citrusy pasta with the light sweetness of spinach just sounded so good… I thought about tossing the spinach as-is into the pasta, and I’m sure that would taste awesome, but I had to slide it past picky kids and I thought I stood a better chance doing so if I turned it into a nice pesto. And added bacon. Ok, turkey bacon, but seriously, I’m giving picky kids spinach, I figured turkey bacon would be the least of their worries. Super awesome for me, it was devoured with not a single complaint. I made this to be as healthy as possible, so I used Ronzoni’s Smart Taste Pasta, which I really highly recommend. It’s the same price as regular pasta, tastes exactly the same, and (depending on what brand we’re talking about) can be healthier then whole wheat pasta. I’m a big pasta snob, and if it doesn’t taste like “regular pasta,” I’m not a fan. This stuff is indistinguishable from the pasta we all know and love. For those who’re not worried about counting calories or training for a half marathon, obviously regular pasta and/or fresh pasta would be fabulous for this dish, just adjust your cooking times accordingly. The same with the turkey bacon… It can easily be switched for regular bacon, shrimp, or chicken (drain off the extra fat made by the bacon though). I also went heavy on the garlic because I love me my garlic. I’ve only had this warm, but I suspect this would make a really awesome cold dish as well. As for the spice, obviously it’s a pretty specific, specialty spice, but if it’s not something that’s immediately available, a lemon pepper spice would kind of similar (though not nearly exact and a lot of the unique flavor in this dish would be lost), or it can be simply left out. However, for a great spice and salt blend that’s a slice of Florida, I can’t say enough great stuff about this. It’s unique, delicious, and great on everything from veges to seafood to pasta and chicken. That ginger and rose taste along with the citrus… I’ve never had anything quite like it and it’s amazing. So if you don’t have it, you need to grab it! No store near you? Never fear, you can order it (and a ton more) online. Since the idea of this series is “they should serve this at Disney,” I honestly believe that this dish would be perfect at Sunshine Seasons or Garden Grill. Leave out the meat, and it’d make a fantastic vegetarian-friendly dish. Can you imagine this dish with the spinach they grow on-site and with some sustainable fish? Yum! I’d love to hear everybody’s thoughts, so please, leave a comment below or visit our lively Facebook community. Just like “The Haunted Mansion,” there’s always room for one more… ~~~~ °o° ~~~~ Read the full article

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

the hangover part II

frat jj x reader

got a part 2 of the hangover requested and i figured it could be real fun

also jj would most definitely be a baby when hungover, don’t @ me

warnings: drinking, cursing

One of JJ’s frat brothers called you one afternoon right as you were getting off work to tell you that JJ had blacked out around 3 a.m. and had yet to wake up. Which, to be honest, you were tired from work and didn’t really want to deal with whiny, clingy, hungover JJ.

Stopping at your apartment, you mixed a bottle of BCAA’s and grabbed JJ’s favorite hoodie from your closet. When you got to the Sigma house, it was silent, which was unusual for this late in the day, and you were a little concerned when the door was unlocked.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, you understood. It positively reeked of alcohol and the amount of empty cans all over the floor was astounding, even compared to their normal parties. And for some inexplicable reason, they were all stuck together.

You found a garbage bag and cleared out the living area before going to the kitchen to start up a pot of coffee. While that made, you walked upstairs to check on JJ. Unsure of what you were going to find, you pushed open the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t too unusual.

JJ was fully starfished on the bed, one arm hanging off, and snoring, mouth wide open. It was so unattractive, but you couldn’t help but be endeared toward this man had somehow taken up a significant amount of space in your heart.

You walked around close to his head and squatted down near it, running a hand through his hair. He stirred a little, pressing his head into your hand, groaning lowly.

“J, baby, you okay?”

“Hmm,” his eyelashes fluttered and he started shifting.

“Wake up, sweetheart, you gotta get up and get some food in you.”

“I can’t walk, baby, I’ve got polio,” he slurred out, eyes barely opened as he squinted at you.

You snorted, “Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

JJ sighed and rolled over onto his back, rubbing his eyes, “Fuck, my head is killing me.”

“How’s your stomach?” you asked, standing in case you needed to make a dash for his garbage can.

“Growling. Forgot to eat last night.”

You kicked your shoes off and crawled into the bed, letting him put his head in your lap. JJ hummed in contentment as you started scratching his scalp and playing with his hair.

“What all did you get up to last night?”

“Competition, one of the guys watched Paper Towns with his girl last week and got the idea of a beer can sword. Every can we drank we glued together and once all the packs were gone, we fought with them.”

You pressed the welt on his neck, “So that’s what this is from, huh?”

“Ouch, woman, that hurts,” he whined, pulling away from your touch.

Resuming playing with his hair, you asked, “Well, did you at least win?”

“Who do you think I am?” he responded with a scoff.”

Laughing, you reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the shaker cup. He scrunched his nose, “Nooo. You have nasty flavors.”

“Okay, so that’s why you regularly drink two scoops after the gym?”

He crossed his arms, “I have no other option.”

“Well, it’s the freedom ice ones, I know you like that one.”

With a loud, dramatic, drawn out sigh, JJ pushed himself up. He begrudgingly took the cup and started drinking. Both of you knew he’d feel better once he drank them and started to re-hydrate, but he was a baby when hungover and for some reason was determined to fight you on it.

It took him over an hour to get them down, complaining the whole time.

“How many scoops did you put in here, this shit is potent.”

And, “You don’t have to watch me the whole time, I’m not a child.”

To which you replied, “I beg to differ because I distinctly remember you pouring some down the drain last time when I went to go get you some coffee.”

He pouted and took another sip. When he finally did finish, you were able to coax him out of the bed with the promise of breakfast and coffee. You could tell it was going to be one of those slow hangover days where he wouldn’t want to move much, content to stay in one spot all day.

Leading him to the bathroom, you brushed out his bedhead while he slowly brushed his teeth. He leaned into your careful hands, humming every so often when it felt good.

When you finished, he spit and sloppily wiped his mouth, totally missing a streak of toothpaste on his chin. You grabbed the towel and gently rubbed it off before rewarding him with a good morning kiss.

Before he could deepen it, you pulled away and grabbed his hand, “Let’s get some food in you, huh bub?”

JJ followed you wordlessly down the stairs and into the kitchen where he clumsily climbed onto a bar stool. You poured a bowl of cereal and popped some toast in.

“Mix?” he asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, blinking heavily.

“The only cereal you have is a froot loops, frosted flakes mix. I’m not entirely sure who decided this would be a good idea, but that’s what you’re getting.”

He nodded and you poured two cups of coffee, fixing them both with oat milk (your addition to the frat house fridge) and a little sugar. You slid him the bowl of cereal after adding milk and grabbed the two pieces of toast to butter.

JJ took a sip of the coffee and left his head in one hand, leaning fully onto it while he ate. You climbed onto the stool next to him and linked one of your arms through the crook of the one he was balancing on, leaning into his side, to eat your toast.

It was nice, the natural light filtering in through the kitchen windows and the silent house. JJ was rarely this quiet and still, always fiddling with something or bouncing his knee, but the leftover alcohol in his blood slowed down everything and pretty much stilled all of his normally hyper movements.

When both of you finished eating, you put the mugs and bowl into the sink, making a mental note to do the dishes later before you left. JJ stood, clumsily, and wandered into the living room where he collapsed onto the couch and shut his eyes.

You joined him, laying in front of him, and he looped an arm around your torso, burying his face into the back of your neck. His fingers twisted into your t-shirt, and you removed them, lacing yours through them instead.

JJ hummed, again, before asking, “Wanna watch some Netflix?”

“Sure.”

He reached up and grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch to hand to you to pick something to watch. As you scrolled through, he tangled your legs together and pressed impossibly closer. You sighed, “Stay still, J.”

“Netflix and chill?” he leered, eyes half closed, behind you.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, okay, you let me know if you can even get it up, bub.”

He halfheartedly rolled his hips forward, “I can always get it up for you, baby.”

Pinching the skin on the back of his hand to stop him, you told him, half jokingly, “Come on, be a good boy and watch the show.”

JJ tickled your stomach for a few seconds before settling in, “Yes ma’am.”

After one episode, his breathing evened out, and he snored lightly into your neck, just like you knew he would. You leaned back into his body heat, a nap sounded great.

***

tagging: @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @socialwriter @diverdcwn @stfukie @peypip @simpin4jj

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #frat!jj #outer banks #outer banks fic #obx #jj maybank request #sigma chi!jj

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supremeuppityone · 4 years

Photo

This was created for the Klaroline Fall Bingo Event @klarolinefallbingo.

Prompt: “You are the treat, sweetheart.”

Please review here.

________________________________________

It wasn’t the worst heartbreak story Caroline had heard. But it definitely was the worst this season. The angry murder swans were an interesting plot twist though. She wiped down the bar, eyeing the clock before she announced, “Last call, everybody!”

She turned to the adorable drunk resting his head on the wet rings the bottles and glasses had left behind. Klaus had spent the evening raking his fingers through his dirty blonde curls, double-fisting shots and Ward Eights when he wasn’t berating his ex-fiancé. “So, your ex, this...um...something that sounded like ‘tater tot’, walked down the aisle, stood at the altar with you in front of a church stuffed full of your friends and family, and announced that she’s been banging your brother for months and wants to marry him instead.”

He squinted up at her, as though slowing piecing together her words. Letting out an unexpectedly boisterous guffaw, he said, “It was Tatia, actually. But tater tot is considerably more appropriate — often greasy, grows disappointingly cold, and an unpleasant aftertaste.” Fishing around in one pocket, he flashed her a devilish smirk that she would’ve found charming if it wasn’t for the bit of drool as he slurred his words, “Elijah’s welcome to her, but he’ll have to make it official without our grandmother’s ring.” He triumphantly slammed a beautiful antique ring on her bar, the neon lights making the diamonds and pearls twinkle.

Caroline let out a small gasp as she studied the delicate floral pattern the gemstones made. For some reason, she felt ridiculously pleased that Tatia didn’t get her grubby cheater’s hands on such a lovely piece of jewelry. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but morbid curiosity is winning right now. Did your other brother release the angry murder swans as a distraction just so you could steal back the ring?”

“A happy accident, love. Kol thrives on chaos and he nipped out to the reception area to let them out of the paddock just to see what would happen. I took advantage of the riot that ensued once the swans started attacking the outlandish lace train of Tatia’s dress and swiped the ring.” His smile was more of a grimace, but at least he chuckled as he said, “I escaped before I saw the worst of it, but I’ve been told that by the time the swans were under control, Tatia was wearing shredded bits of overpriced lace and feathers, and both she and Elijah were smeared in droppings.”

Giggling, Caroline squeezed another half-lemon into the shaker, adding the grenadine and topping it off with orange juice before pouring it over what was left of the rye whisky in Klaus’ glass. She tossed in a few cherries and winked as she told him, “My treat.”

He threw her what should’ve been a smoldering look, but instead his gray eyes seemed to cross slightly as he slurred, “You are the treat, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, not bothering to respond to his clumsy flirting. Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, she couldn’t help the way her pulse quickened. If he had this kind of effect on her now, what was he like sober? Nope, she sternly reminded herself; he’s on the gut-wrenching rebound to end all rebounds and you stopped doing one-night stands after Mr. Hair Gel seemed waaaay more into his brother and you snuck out the bathroom window once it got too squicky.

She kept busy closing out a few more tabs, feeling the need to steamroll past the awkward silence as she cheerfully said, “So, you just hopped on a plane and decided to go on your honeymoon anyway. That’s a level of petty I can support. Mystic Shores is a tiny resort town, but you should find plenty to keep yourself busy. There’s the lighthouse, natural rock bridges, seabird sanctuary...” she trailed off when she saw how his eyes had glazed over. “Plus, lots of white sand beaches you can day drink on while watching the dolphins.”

“I knew I picked this place for a reason.” Klaus gulped down the rest of his drink, grimacing as he told her, “Remind me to teach you how to make a proper Ward Eight, love. It’s positively criminal the rubbish rye you’re peddling.”

She grabbed his empty glass, putting it in the tub under the bar. Snorting, she replied, “Yeah, yeah, just add it to the rest of your complaints about my drinks. Not that it stopped you from slamming them back as fast as I poured them.”

Klaus smirked, rising unsteadily to his feet. “A bartender should understand proper citrus techniques. Zesting citrus in advance may save time, but it dries out the fragrance and flavor you’d otherwise infuse into your drinks.”

Normally, having her bartending skills drunkenly criticized would have Caroline covertly charging an ‘asshat tax’ when she closed out the tab, but there was something about Klaus that made her more amused than angry. She’d stealthily admired his cheekbones most of the evening, and when he occasionally stretched, the muscle definition was undeniable. He wore his classic good looks with casual indifference, but a curious melancholy hung over him despite his snarky wit. There was more than just heartbreak below his surface, and she was curious to know more. Nope. Don’t get involved. It’s not your job to fix broken people.

As he continued to hopelessly fumble with his wallet, she gently pressed her palm to his forearm and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

It was the first genuine smile he’d given all night, and he lurched forward, placing a sweet kiss to her knuckles. “You radiate light and beauty. I should’ve known you were are an angel, Caroline.” He stumbled out of the bar before she could speak, cheeks flushed at the way his accented voice lovingly caressed her name.

Caroline busied herself closing up the bar, barely resisting the urge to glance out the front to see if Klaus had managed to operate his ride app correctly. Not your problem. She waved off a few of the locals who invited her to the dunes to watch the sea turtle nests. They’d be hatching soon, but a bubble bath and some bad reality TV sounded much more appealing at the moment.

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly stumbled over Klaus as she took the trash to the dumpster. With a gasp, she knelt beside him, realizing he was snoring loudly and his pockets were turned inside out.

Damn it, Enzo.

“Come on, Klaus, wake up,” she hissed, lightly smacking his cheek.

With a groan of protest, Klaus managed to sit up against the dirty brick wall, mumbling, “Bloody wanker came at me, but I gave him a right show with this,” he cursed, triumphantly waving around a fist.

She helped him up, muttering under her breath, “Nice work. Although it looks like he still snagged your wallet and ring.” At his crestfallen expression, she hurriedly reassured him, “But don’t worry! I’ll give Enzo a call and we’ll fix it, I promise.”

________________________________________

When she heard the loud thump followed by an impressive string of cursing, Caroline knew Klaus finally was awake. It was the first time she’d let a drunk stay on her couch who wasn’t a local, but he was far too out of it to be a threat last night. Plus, her bartending over the years had given her an almost infallible bullshit meter. Klaus wasn’t dangerous. Just dangerously sexy. She rolled her eyes at that thought.

She’d given Enzo an earful last night for not keeping a closer watch on his crew. When he dropped off Klaus’ stuff, he gave Caroline a saucy little wink and teased, “My apologies, gorgeous. I didn’t know my mates rolled your tourist fluff.”

“Seriously?! It’s not like that — he’s just going through a rough time with his fiancé leaving him at the altar for his brother, and he doesn’t deserve getting his stuff stolen.”

Enzo whistled, a rare look of sympathy flashing in his dark eyes. “Bollocks. No wonder he went after Jeremy like a man possessed. Gave him one hell of a shiner too — it’s my new wallpaper on my phone.”

Klaus stumbled into her kitchen, looking just as adorably rumpled as he did last night. Curse her weakness for complete disasters. He squinted at the sunlight pouring in from her open windows, and winced at the cheerful whirring and hissing of her espresso machine. “Caroline?”

She blushed to the roots of her hair, ridiculously pleased that he remembered her name. “Good morning, Klaus.” She slid the cup and saucer toward him. “It’s a double shot — I figured you could use it.”

He blinked, taking a sip as he said gratefully, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome. Um, so you probably don’t remember much from last night, but after I found you passed out in the alley, you kept muttering you were staying at a bed and breakfast. Which isn’t helpful when there’s one on almost every corner in this town. So, I let you crash here instead.”

Klaus gave her a small smile, rubbing his forehead as he muttered, “It’s a sad commentary on my life that I’ve been in the presence of friends and family this past week and the most kindness I’ve been shown has been from a stranger.”

“We’re not strangers,” Caroline protested with a gentle smile. “We’re just friends who haven’t finished bonding.” As she refilled his cup, she winked, “And when it’s my turn, I’m counting on you to have a very generous pour when I get left at the altar.”

He suddenly froze, rapidly patting at his pockets, and she quickly said, “Hey, no, it’s okay! I got your stuff back.” She reached into the drawer between them, pulling out his wallet and carefully setting his grandmother’s ring on top of it. “See? I told you I’d fix it.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he pocketed his belongings, telling her, “You’re amazing, love. An angel, just as I suspected.” His gaze suddenly turned shrewd as he studied her, “You know the thief.”

“Yes. I have a friend who runs a crew that robs tourists that look like they can afford it.” At his frown, Caroline felt the absurd need to make Klaus understand. “Work here is seasonal at best for a lot of us, and Enzo kind of redistributes wealth when he can.” She held her breath, waiting for his judgement. He had swans at his almost-wedding, for fuck’s sake. His type was definitely Enzo’s favorite target.

Klaus let out an unexpected chuckle, telling her, “We should hope your friend never meets Kol. When we were in school, he set up an underground sports betting pool with the faculty and most of the staff.” Shaking his curly head in bemusement, he added, “Kol had teachers giving him passing grades just to pay off their gambling debts.”

She burst out laughing, wiping away tears as she imagined the crazy shenanigans Enzo and Kol would get into. That’s not going to happen. Klaus is on vacation, remember? His ruined honeymoon. Her smile was overly bright as she started pulling containers from the refrigerator, explaining, “My friend Matt runs the cafe down the road. I wasn’t sure what your go-to hangover food was, so I got you mine — butter biscuits and spicy sausage gravy, vanilla custard French toast, and orange juice.”

“You’ve spoiled me, sweetheart. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to repay all the kindness you’ve shown me.”

She did her best not to blush at the intensity of his gaze as he helped her set the table. They ate in companionable silence, listening to the small town slowly come to life on the street below. She waited until Old Man Gilbert’s noisy pontoon boat left the docks for the morning dolphin tour, and once the street was back to a manageable hum, she tentatively said, “Listen, I don’t know what you’re planning to do when you get back home, or if you’ve even allowed yourself to think that far ahead, but I wanted to offer you some advice.”

When he raised an intrigued eyebrow, but didn’t comment, she blurted out, “Go crazy. This is one of those moments where you can change whatever boring, expected path you’d planned out. Invite a little chaos into your life — do something wild and unexpected.”

The sudden press of Klaus’ lips to hers was just as thrilling as she’d imagined. He had her up against the cabinets with a resounding thud that seemed to fuel their frenzied kisses. The feel of his stubble against her neck was spicy-sweet pain that made her groan. Emboldened by her reaction, he dipped his head lower, running his tongue along her collarbone as he palmed her breast.

Caroline reached between them, rubbing the outline of his erection with a satisfied hum. It had been far too long since someone made her skin sing. He wanted her. And yesterday he wanted someone else. That thought alone jerked her out of their pleasurable haze. Placing a palm on his chest, she gently pushed him back, her words a bit jumbled as she panted, “That was...I mean...but we shouldn’t...”

Klaus’ cheeks were flushed as he smirked, “You advised me to do something wild and unexpected, sweetheart.”

She snorted, “Seriously? That was totally expected.” Her tone grew serious as she told him, “Klaus, you’re going through something huge right now and I’m not looking to be someone’s detour on the way back to their life.”

“You aren’t a detour — you’re a destination,” he replied. “But you’re probably right — I’ve had a bloody awful time of it. I need to get myself sorted.”

The determination on his face gave her hope; Klaus would be ok.

________________________________________

Four months later, Caroline was loading up the pushcart with kegs for that evening’s tasting room event when Enzo strolled into the supply room, wearing his serious brows. She hadn’t seen those since she’d dropped Klaus off at the airport and then sulked on Enzo’s couch for days. He’d argued that she was being stubborn and should go track Klaus down. But she didn’t want to get in the middle of his left-at-the-altar-for-his-brother drama. She refused to be someone’s second choice.

“For fuck’s sake, what is it,” she asked in exasperation, wiping the sweat at her temples with the bottom of her old t-shirt.

Frowning, he jerked his head toward the street, telling her, “Looks like some competition has moved in, gorgeous.” At her skeptical expression, he pulled her outside, pointing to a sign that proclaimed ‘A Little Chaos’ was opening soon. It looked like a bar. Right across the street from her bar. Frowning, she quickly made her way over, blinking in disbelief as she came face-to-face with a familiar devilish smirk.

“Caroline! I was just on my way to see you,” Klaus greeted her, that knowing smile making her blush despite her anger.

“You’re opening a bar. Across from my bar,” she said flatly, eyeing the exquisite, hand-lettered gold leaf sign that probably cost more than her rent. “A hipster bar,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

He chuckled as he lightly corrected her, “A speakeasy. I’ll be able to show this town how to make a proper Ward Eight.” With an impish wink, he reminded her, “Someone told me to invite a little chaos into my life. I decided to take her advice.”

#klaroline fall bingo #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic #klaroline does left at the altar plus meet cute #and amusing pickpockets #plus murder swans

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