grace to be said at the supermarket

Caffeine, Crimson Cheeks, and Cashiers | Taehyung | BTS

Summary: College!AU wherein Taehyung is a part-time cashier and you are a tired student just trying to power your way through finals with the help of a dozen or so energy drinks.

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.4K

(reposted from my other blog, writing-fingers)

Originally posted by bwipsul


You always thought that college would never come. Not that you were excited for it or anything—on the contrary, you practically dreaded it. As the youngest, you were expected to exceed the accomplishments of your siblings, going above and beyond your family’s expectations. As such, you were expected to leave your sleepy suburban home and study at one of the country’s finest universities.

Of course, this did not bode well with you. In fact, you never wanted to leave. It was not like you lacked ambition or dreams; it was just that you knew you could achieve those goals in your hometown’s university. All of your friends were staying, and you were not necessarily the greatest when it came to making new friends. Why leave when you have everything at your disposal right there at your hometown? You fought almost regularly with your parents about this, but after a particularly devastating argument, you decided it would be better to shut your mouth and just suck it up.

After all, how hard could college be?

Yet, here you are, standing in the middle of the campus’ supermarket in your pajamas, searching for the energy drink aisle.

Keep reading

lost in time
  • words: 5,750
  • genre: angst, ceo! au
  • member: baekhyun

I don’t know when everything started falling apart. We were a good couple, or as “good” as any couple in an arranged marriage could’ve got. That wasn’t the issue, though. No, we didn’t really start having issues until about eight months into the marriage.

He told me it was work. He worked longer hours for his father’s company. He wouldn’t come till after I’ve fallen asleep, and he’d be gone long before I’ve waken up.

I suppose I’ve had my doubts. “Work” was going well, according to my father. “Work” was in fact, better than its ever been. There was no need for longer hours. But every morning, I’d feel the rustle coming from the other side of the bed at 5 am sharp, and I’d softly open my eyes just as Baekhyun left our room to get ready for “work”.

One night, I stayed up late. I was determined to see my husband. My husband, who worked longer hours than everyone in his own company. Husband. The word suddenly sounded strange, even in my head. When was it when I had last kissed my own husband?

I was sitting quietly in front of a blank television screen at 2 am when I heard the turn of the lock, signaling Baekhyun’s return.

I watched his face as he entered our home. The small smile that disappeared from his face when he saw me watching him from the living room.

“(Y/N)?” His face pulled into a confused frown. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I wanted to see you,” I said. My voice sounded so small compared to his. “Are you hungry? I-”

“I’m actually really tired. I was just about to go to sleep.”

I stared at his figure as he went up to our room, leaving me all alone on the couch. I couldn’t stop the pang in my heart or the thoughts that kept recurring over and over again.

Did Baekhyun even love me any more?

I didn’t go back to sleep that night.

At 5 am, I heard the door to our bedroom squeak as he slid into the bathroom. 5:30, I hear his footsteps as he comes down the stairs. He stops when he sees me in the living room still.

“Why didn’t you come to bed last night?” He speaks quietly.

Why didn’t you ask me that last night? I wondered bitterly.

“I was tired.” I answered.

“If you’re tired, then shouldn’t you sleep?” He says, a small smile on his face.

I stare quietly at my hands. “I was too tired to sleep.”

He looked at me for all of three heart beats before he made his way out the door. “Go to bed, jagiya.” He calls over his shoulder as he walks out again. Walks out for his “work”.

I don’t know what prompted me to follow him. I don’t know why an hour later I decided to go visit him. I don’t know a lot of things about what happened. What I did know was, the moment I couldn’t find his secretary by his office that my suspicions had been right. When I heard both their voices from outside his door; when I saw the faint outline of my husband and another figure through the tinted windows of his office.

I knew I no longer meant anything to him.

I swallowed as I saw them get even closer than they were before, Baekhyun leaned against his desk, while the outline of a woman traced her finger against his chest. I saw the silhouette of my husband looking at her, talking to her, but doing nothing to stop her.  

I called his phone. I saw them both stop for a second, and he turned around as his phone rang. He reached over his desk and held his phone for a moment, before he set it back down.

“The number you dialed is-”

And that was the last straw. I stormed out of his office, and I heard murmurs of confusion from his employees as I walked out.

The first thing I did was call Chanyeol.

“(Y/N)? What’s-”

“Chanyeol, I have to see you.”

He paused. “What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Please.”

“I’ll be in my apartment in fifteen minutes. Wait for me there, okay?”

I hung up immediately.

“Hey-”

He stopped when he saw the look on my face. In an instant, he was beside me, his usual smile replaced with a grim frown.

“What happened?” He urged. He led me into his apartment and I didn’t say anything until I was sitting down.

“Y/N, what’s-”

“It’s Baekhyun.”

“Baekhyun?”

“He’s cheating on me.”

And maybe it was because I heard the words being said out loud, that it suddenly felt so real, so painful. And when Chanyeol pulled me into his chest, I couldn’t stop the tears that kept streaming onto his shoulder. Somehow, his soft voice calling my name only prompted me to cry harder. I missed Baekhyun. I missed how he’d say my name. I missed his hold, his care.

“What are you talking about?” He said gently. “Come on, you know Baekhyun loves you.”

“I saw him! Chan, she was practically on top of him, and he did nothing to stop her! Nothing!”

Chanyeol frowned for a moment, but he masked it just as quickly. “Hey, maybe you just misinterpreted what was going on, there’s no way-”

“Then why doesn’t he come home?” I demand. “Why didn’t he step away from her? Chanyeol, why-”

I pull out my phone and dial his number immediately. It takes all of three seconds before-

“The number you dialed is-”

“Why doesn’t he even want to talk to me anymore?”

And suddenly, I was in Chanyeol’s arms as he brushed his fingers through my hair and told me that I would be fine. I was crying all over his shoulder and into his chest, to the point where his shoulder was too wet for me put my head against anymore. But not once did he tell me to stop crying.

I don’t know if it was minutes or hours later when I finally stopped, but I didn’t speak for a while.

“I must look pretty pathetic right now.” I laughed bitterly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why Baekhyun’s acting like this (Y/N), if I could-”

I shook him off. “I’m tired, Chanyeol. For the past three months I’ve been so tired.”

And just like that, he didn’t say anything else. He brought me food and water, but I couldn’t find the energy to eat or drink. I slept in his extra room and I didn’t go home that day. When I didn’t see any calls or texts from Baekhyun, I didn’t go home the next day either. Or the day after that.

It wasn’t until the third day that he even acknowledged my absence.

A single text at midnight.

Jagiya, where are you?

I turned my phone off and went to sleep.

I begged Chanyeol not to alert him of anything. Not my presence at his apartment or even my knowledge of his affair. And true to his word, Chanyeol also rejected his best friend’s calls, and did his best to be there for me in his place.

The next day Baekhyun stepped up his game. He actually called.

As the days passed, his texts also changed.

Call me now.

It was a week later, and I sat in my room staring at the seventeen text messages he’s left since I’d left when I heard a knock on my door.

I called out “come in” and smiled gratefully when Chanyeol popped his head into the room.

“You’ve locked yourself up in here all week,” He said. “In your absence, my lady, the entire Earth’s water supply has dried up, two world wars have been fought, and Kanye West has become the new President of the United States. Only the sight of you outside and smiling will bring back world peace.”

At that, I lowered my gaze as a soft smile played on my lips. In response, Chanyeol walked in and sat on the edge of my bed.

“Won’t you grace me with your presence at the luxurious, over-priced and absolutely horrid supermarket to help restore my humble home’s lack of milk and cup noodles?”

I laughed.

“My back hurts from sitting around and doing nothing all day anyway.” I shyly admitted.

“Well, then it’s settled. Come on,” He smiled encouragingly, I realized just how grateful I was for all that he’s done for me this past week.

“Chanyeol?” I called as we made our way outside.

He looked over his shoulder. “Mhmm?”

“Thank you.” I said. “For everything.”

He swung an arm around my neck as we walked into the supermarket. “Well, what are friends for, amirite?”

We kept strolling through the aisles. Chanyeol was restocking a lot more than just milk and cup noodles, but he only grinned elfishly at my observation.

The sound of his phone ringing stopped us from judging the many brands of ice cream at the dairy section. He pulled it out, and after a moment of deciding whether or not to answer, he slid it back into his pocket.

“Jandi?” I asked with a smirk. “Who’s that?”

He rubbed his neck embarrassedly and looked back at the ice cream. “This girl I was with the other night. She’s actually pretty nice.”

“Aren’t you gonna call her back, then?”

“Later,” He promised with a smirk. “Hunger before hormones.”

I laughed, and we were about to move to the next aisle when suddenly my phone rang, as well.

I looked at Chanyeol.

“Wow, look at us. So popular.” He joked. I gave him a small smile before I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, it was Baekhyun again. Calling for his 2nd attempt that day. I scoffed and put my phone back in my pocket.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” Chanyeol asked softly.

“Hunger before hormones.” I replied back with a forced smile.

“He’s probably really worried, you know?” He told me gently.

I stared at my hands. “If he really wanted to see me, he’d have done it by now, you know how Baekhyun is.”  

Chanyeol looked at me sadly, so I put on a forced smile and waved it off. “Whatever, come on, let’s go back now.”

But before we could move, a deep voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Oh, were you going somewhere?” the voice asked.

I turned around, not believing my ears.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol’s eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” He raised a brow. He was dressed in his usual business attire, his arms crossed aggressively as he watched us. He still looked as handsome as ever, albeit slightly thinner and his skin somewhat paler.

I felt my eyes burn just at the sight of him. “Chanyeol, let’s just go home.” I pleaded as I tried moving away from him.

Baekhyun charged forward and roughly pulled me against him. I would have tripped, had his hold not been so strong. “The only home you’re going to is ours.” He growled.

I scoffed. “Did you finally remember we had a home?”

His scowl deepened and he pulled me again. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Baekhyun, let her go.” Chanyeol put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

As if touched by fire, Baekhyun growled. “Don’t fucking touch me after what you’ve done.”

As Chanyeol finally realized where Baekhyun’s thoughts were headed, his face pulled into an angry frown.

“After what I’ve done?”

But Baekhyun was already walking away, his hold tight on my wrist. I yelped as his fingers kept getting tighter and tighter, but he didn’t let go of me until we were in his car.

“Who the hell do you think you are!” I screamed once the doors closed.

Me? I wouldn’t be saying that if I slept around with my husband’s best friend for the past week!” He growled, his voice deadly.

And that was the last straw.

“What’s wrong with me staying with Chanyeol, sleeping in different rooms, for a single week?” I demanded. “It isn’t like I’ve been sleeping with my secretary for the past three months!”

And just like that Baekhyun stopped. His eyes widened, his face paled even more than before, and his mouth hung with shock.

“Three whole months of me sitting at home every day, doing nothing but cooking and cleaning and waiting for a husband who wanted nothing to do with me! Who couldn’t wait to leave as soon as he came home!”

He opened his mouth to say something, but I wouldn’t give him the opportunity.

“What have I ever done to you, Baekhyun? How could you do something like this to me?” I cried. “I hate you. Do you know how pathetic I feel because of you?”

His face reddened.

“Oh, embarrassed, are you? How do you think I felt walking into my own husband’s company and walking out to give him and his little secretary some time alone? How do you think I felt waiting for you every single night, even though you walk in without even sparing me a glance? How do you think I feel when every time I tried to start a conversation with you, you walked out and left me all alone!”

“(Y/N), I-”

“I loved you.” I interrupted him. “I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else. You were always the first thing on my mind when I opened my eyes, and the last thing I thought about before I went to sleep. Even in my dreams, what kept me going was that maybe one day I’ll actually be able to have you to myself. That I’d actually be able to spend time with my own husband!”

Baekhyun was staring at me with something that resembled guilt. Or maybe it was pity. I was making a bigger idiot of myself by the second.

“Was I- was I not good enough?” I whispered. My voice began to fade as little droplets of rain began to hit the top of the car. “Was I not pretty enough? Was I too boring?” I looked up at him clearly for the first time. “Why, Baekhyun?”

The car stopped in front of our home. Or what used to be home. I didn’t realize how much I was crying until his hand reached out for me.

“(Y/N), I-”

“Don’t touch me!” I recoiled. “Don’t talk to me, Baek. I-I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I tried so, so much. But- but I can’t keep doing this anymore, Baekhyun.”

And before I could make an even bigger fool out of myself, I walked out and hoped my tears weren’t as obvious in the rain. I ran upstairs and didn’t fully let everything out until I was in my bed. Where I’ve spent every night thinking about how best to be there for Baekhyun. Baekhyun, who didn’t even care enough to kiss me goodbye every morning or hug me tight when we went to sleep.

Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun.

And just like always, he was the last thing on my mind before I drifted to sleep.

I get confused in the morning when I find myself back in my bed and not Chanyeol’s. When everything came flooding back, I frantically search for my phone. Did Chanyeol call me afterward? Would he be able to come get me? It’s around 10 am, so Baekhyun’s back at “work”.

When my eyes start watering again, I frantically rub them and get out of bed. I had to wash my face. No doubt I look like complete and utter shit after all that’s happened.

But as I open the door, my heart turns to lead when I hear a sudden grunt from beneath me. My face pales as I realize I stepped on a sleepy Baekhyun, who was sitting on the floor in front of our room.

When I see him, I frantically try to go back into my room when I feel his tight grasp on my wrist again.

“Wait, (Y/N), I-”

“S-stop hurting me,” I whimper pathetically as I tried fighting him off of me.

His eyes widen, and his hold turns softer as he pulls me closer.

“Baekhyun, leave-”

“Please,” He whispers. I look at him for the first time and realize just how horrible he looks. His hair’s a mess, as if he’d been pulling at it all night. His eyes were tinted at the corners, and accompanied by the dark circles under them, it looked like he didn’t get much sleep either.

I stopped fighting him.

“I fired her.”

I look at him with a smile. “Oh, is this the part where I’m supposed to feel relieved and jump into your arms and ignore everything that’s happened for the past-”

“I told her the next time I see her, I’ll take her to court. I’ll ruin her for all she’s worth if she ever comes in front of me.”

Before I could say anything else, his voice gets even lower.

“The first time, I was in the office late and she walked in. I was really stressed at the time. And I wanted nothing more than to come home early. And she told me to go and she’d take care of it. I said ‘thank you’ and hurried back home to you. That was the first time I recognized her.

“A week later,  my company’s stocks dropped lower than they’ve ever had before. I didn’t know what happened. When I told you, you looked so upset and I could tell that you were worried about me more than ever. Each time you adjusted the blankets when we were sleeping so I’d get the bigger half, each time you called your dad behind my back to help me and he ended up yelling at you to just leave me, (Y/N), I noticed it all…

“And that’s when I realized that you stopped smiling. You were always putting me first and I hated it. I hated that I wasn’t a good enough husband. That I couldn’t have less problems so I wouldn’t constantly trouble you with them. I, I-” He hesitated before he softly cupped my cheek, his eyes full of pain. I winced at his touch. “I just wanted you to be happy.

“Soon, she started offering to finish up my work for me every night,” He continued. “I was so confused. The work was getting done but the company’s position kept getting worse and worse. Then, one night, I caught her.

“She had offered to finish things for me again, but while I was on my way home, a sudden thought struck me and I turned around immediately. And there she was, in my office, pulling out at my paperwork and messing with my files. She- she was ruining me for all I had.”

My eyes widened.

“I got angry, I was going to call the police, but then she threatened that if anything happens to her, she had the paperwork to bring my company to the ground. I didn’t know where she was getting any of those documents from, or how, but one look at them and I knew if they were leaked, I’d be done for.

“And that’s when she made her first attempt.” He whispered solemnly. “She suddenly changed her tone, came closer and kept eyeing me like a lion watches its prey. She-she said, I could promote her and keep her as my secretary, and she would make it all go away. I was scared, and I agreed immediately, but then she kept suggesting we…” His voice trailed off as he took in the expression on my face. “I promoted her. She probably knows more about the company than anyone else I know. I gave her all she asked for, fearful of what might happen if she was to play around with more of my files.”

I was quiet.

“I gave her everything, (Y/N), but not once did I touch her.”

“Bullshit.” I say immediately. I was about to turn around right then and there, but he held me even tighter.

“You have to believe me. I swear, I denied her each time she tried to get closer to me. I know I’ve been an ass to you and haven’t been the husband you deserve-”

I pull my hands out of his, but this does nothing more than make him more determined.

“-but I swear, (Y/N), I would never do something like that to you.” He stares at me intensely. “She tried so many times, but she doesn’t even do it as seriously as before because she knows I’m not interested. Each time, I tell her I already have a wife waiting for me at home. I never touched her.”

“And all I did was wait for a husband who never came home.” I mutter bitterly. Guilt covers his face.

“I was worried about leaving the company, Y/N,” He whispered. “Every night I went back because I was scared to leave the company alone. I was worried she would do something and I’d end up behind bars for things I didn’t do. I was so, so scared and didn’t trust her for a second but I- I didn’t know what would happen if I didn’t give her what she asked.”

“Baekhyun, you- you just said you fired her.”

He looked at his feet with a small smile. “Well, I guess we’ll find what happens tomorrow.”

My head was spinning with a million thoughts per second, but my body lacked the energy to express them.

“Baekhyun, I’m your wife,” I whispered. “You- you know worrying about you is my job, right?”

He looked up at me and he looked sadder than I’ve ever seen him. “(Y/N), you have no idea how much it pains me to see you like…” He moves closer and cups my cheek more delicately, as if he was afraid I would shatter under his touch. “-like this.” He carefully wiped the tears from under my eyes. “Because of…me.”

I turned away, but my tears kept falling harder, until his hand that rested on my cheek was covered with them.

“What about your company?”

“By tomorrow, I might not even have a company.” He chuckled sadly. “For all I know, I might lose everything by the time the sun comes up. But I can’t do this anymore,” And for the first time in months, Baekhyun pulls me into his arms. Desperately, gently, and full of affection, like he’s been holding it in for a long time. I squeezed my arms around his neck as I cried, ugly and loudly but I didn’t care. I could feel his chest clench with each wheeze that came out of my mouth and his arms shake as he holds me. “I was so stupid. I don’t- I don’t deserve you. I know you probably don’t ever want to see me again, but baby, I swear, I’m so, so sorry. I know you’ve been in so much pain because of me.”

“You’re such a selfish bastard, you know that?” I scream as I throw my fist against his back. I feel him wince beneath me, but I know my words were doing more harm to him than my hands, which bounced off him without much energy.

“What did I ever do to you?” I kept going. “Why couldn’t you say anything to me? Do you know how many times I sat and wondered why you didn’t love me anymore?”

He slowly pulled away and held me by my shoulders. After a long moment of staring into my eyes, he whispers, “You have no idea how much I love you. It’s the one thing I’ve ever been sure of.” He says insistently. When I don’t respond, he holds me even tighter. “What do you want me to do? Whatever you say, I’ll do it.”

I pause. “Anything?”

“Anything.” He says instantly. “You could tell me to get my lawyer right now and sign every single penny I own to you, give you all I have and announce myself dirt-poor right now, and I swear to you-” He takes my hands into his. “- I’d do it without hesitation.”

When I don’t respond, he pulls me into his hold and rests his forehead against mine. “Baby, please.” He says quietly. “Let me fix this.”

I breathe heavily when his hands gently snake around my waist, pulling me closer, until our hips touch. We’re so close I can hear his heart beating dangerously in his chest and feel his warm breath against my skin. He eyes me with a mix of fear and desire when he dares to come even closer.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” He breathes. Then, he does something he hasn’t done in three months. Baekhyun presses his lips against mine. He stays still for a moment before I hear him shift his position so it wasn’t an uncomfortable angle for me, and kisses me again.

I don’t tell him to stop.

After a few moments of hesitation, my hands begin to nervously reach toward his face. My fingers ghost above his jaw before he suddenly starts kissing me harder, as if he can feel the warmth of my hand without it even making contact. He’s kissing me as if we’d never kissed before and as if we’d kissed a million times, all in the same heartbeat.

“Do you love me, Baekhyun?”

He pulls away, staring into my eyes with his own big brown orbs. “More than anything.” He answers without hesitation.

“Are you sure?” I whisper back boldly.

He removes one of his hands from my hip to my hand above his cheek. He squeezes my palm before gently placing his lips against it.

“As sure as I am that there stars in the sky,” He says. Then, he presses his lips against my forehead. “And that Donald Trump is a piece of shit.”

The ghost of a smile lingers on my lips before I cross my arms. “I could name a few pieces of shit myself.” When he realizes what I said, he hangs his head low with shame.

And that’s when I finally wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. His eyes widen with surprise, and when he finally registers what’s happening, he squeezes my waist tighter and kisses me back with more passion, as if he was experiencing a thousand different emotions at once, and couldn’t wait to pour them all into me.

“Every night,” I whispered. “I waited for you to do this. To touch me. To kiss me.” I let the words fall between us. “But you never did.”

The guilt fills his face like a drop of ink in water.

“I couldn’t bring myself to touch you. I knew I was the worst husband ever and I was almost…afraid to touch you,” He says quietly, his face suddenly pained all over again. “I never hated myself more,” He swallows. “-than that first time she tried to get with me. When I was about to kiss you goodnight, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it to you. I was never home, and you were caught up in this and you didn’t deserve any of it, and I guess I-” He closes his eyes with regret. “I guess I felt like you were a piece of the purest piece of silk in the world, and I was nothing but a dirty rag, and if I touched you, I’d taint something so beautiful, and I-I couldn’t bring myself to do that to you.”

“Baekhyun-”

“I’m the biggest piece of shit in the world, I know.”

“-I love you.”

His eyes widened as if I’d suddenly started speaking another language. “What?”

“I said I-”

I never got to finish my sentence because in the next moment, Baekhyun lifted me up into his arms and crashed his lips against mine. I smiled warmly as he covered my face, shoulders, and neck with kisses, his heart beating at the same pace as mines. He gripped my thighs tightly as he led me into our bedroom, and laid me down on the silky sheets of our bed.

“Baekhyun,” I giggled as his lips tickled me under my ear. He smiled back and flipped me so that he was the one on the bottom, and I was laying comfortably on his chest.

“Let me make it up to you,” He pressed his lips against my head. “I’ll be the husband you’ve always wanted. The Baekhyun you fell in love with.”

I lift my head from on his chest to look into his eyes for all of three electrifying heartbeats.

“I believe you.” I smiled.

And just like that, everything dissolved between us until there was nothing but eager laughter and overdue smiles through the empty night.

My heart pounded in my chest when I woke up to the sound of Baekhyun’s alarm at 5:00 AM sharp. I held my breath when I felt him stir beside me. I was disappointed when I felt one of his arms leave my waist, and even more disappointed when I no longer felt his warm breath against my neck.

When he turned off the alarm, as he does every morning, I waited to feel the warmth disappear from beside me…but it never did. Minutes passed, but all Baekhyun did was turn off his phone, and then I felt his arms wrap around me again.

But although I missed having his chest pressed against my back, when twenty minutes passed and he still didn’t move, I rubbed my eyes to wake myself up.

“Shit,” Baekhyun mumbled when I shifted in his arms. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Baekhyun, aren’t you going to w-work?” I stutter at the last word and I hate how my voice sounds saying it.

However, he merely shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “Let’s just stay like this a little longer.”

“But, what about-”

“Stop worrying about me, baby.” He mumbled before sitting up beside me. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Baekhyun-ah,” I curl up into him. “Should I call my father?”

It’s slight, but I see his jaw harden. “You know your father hates me. He won’t do anything.”

“I’m his daughter,” I offer him a small smile. “He loves me a lot more than he hates you.”

Baekhyun sighs and rests his chin on top my head, but I could tell he’s troubled. “Don’t make him upset over me. I’ll figure something-”

“You promised you’d actually listen to me.” I interrupt him with a frown. “Baekhyun, stop thinking you have to do everything yourself.”

He’s about to protest, but I press a kiss against his cheek and his gaze softens.

“Baekhyun,” I mumble his name lightheartedly. I curl into his lap and he holds me closer to him. I smile when he presses his lips against my neck. My heart races when I hear his deep voice hum into my skin.

“I haven’t held you in forever,” He chuckles sadly as he kisses me again. I lean back into his chest and smile.

“As much as I like this, stop changing the subject.”

He’s quiet and I could tell he’s thinking. I sit up straighter and hold his shoulders firmly.

“Byun Baekhyun,” I take my time saying each syllable. “He’s my father. If you go bankrupt, his only loving daughter will starve forever. And if his only daughter dies of hunger, then he’ll have no grandchildren, and he’ll be a grumpy, lonely & rich old guy for the rest of his life. And besides,” I add shyly as I trace my finger along his biceps. “Haven’t you always wanted children? Baekhyun-ah, how are you gonna have children one day, and explain to them that you went to jail because of something you didn’t do? How are you gonna take care of them, and let them grow up with a father that’s too busy paying off debts he doesn’t owe? How- how are you gonna leave me and your children like that, Baekhyun?”

When I look up at him, my cheeks red with embarrassment at what I was suggesting, I find him staring at me intensely.

I get even more flustered under his gaze. “Baekhyun, stop looking at me like th-”

But before I could finish my sentence, a pair of lips captures my own. My eyes widen with surprise before slowly fluttering shut, as Baekhyun’s hands grip my waist even tighter. I hear him breathe for a moment and then he’s kissing me again. I squeeze his biceps, feeling the veins softly bulge under my fingers.

“Baek-”

“I love you.” He interrupts with a kiss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

My heart races in my chest. “Why are you being like this?” I mutter shyly, turning away from him.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, the way a child asks his mother if she really meant he could take the last cookie from the cookie jar.

I brush my hair behind my ear, my cheeks flushed. “I mean, I don’t know if you still want to, but before,” I swallow, remembering when we first got married. “-before, you said you did, and- and if it’s something you really want, I-” I look up at him. “-I don’t mind.”

“Did I mention how much I love you?” 

I blush under his intense gaze. “No, I must have missed it.” I joked.

“Well, I love you,” He says as he kisses me. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

“Does that mean you’ll let my dad help you?” I ask hopefully. 

“It means I’ll do anything you want,” He chuckles back as he hugs me even tighter, and I laugh as we fall back into the sheets together. 

____

I was dressed in a long black dress when I arrived at my father’s company. All the employees greeted me eagerly, offering me drinks and sweets upon my arrival. I shook my head and smiled gratefully, before I took the elevator to the top floor. 

I enter my father’s office immediately, without knocking. 

“-he won’t give in to me, sir.” 

I stop dead in my tracks. I look closer to make sure I wasn’t just hearing things, and hide behind a column so I wouldn’t be discovered. 

“Have you tried everything?” 

The woman nods curtly. “I made dozens of forged documents threatening him, and have tried getting Mr. Byun to sleep with me on numerous occasions. He gave me money to stop, and has even promoted me to his secretary, but he has refused all my advances, even when I told him I would get rid of all the forgeries if he gave me just one night.” 

“The son of a bitch.” My father mutters. “He’s like a roach, no matter how many times I’ve tried stepping on him, I can’t get rid of him.” 

“May I suggest something, sir? We have all the paperwork, I think it may be time to just call the police-”

“Father!” 

The two freeze. My father looks surprised for a moment, before he shoots the woman, Baekhyun’s secretary, a look, and she hurries off.

“(Y/N), what are you doing h-”

“This was all your doing?” I say with disbelief, barely able to contain my anger. “Father, you’re the one that sent her? 

My father slouches back in his chair. “So what?”

“So what? He’s my husband, father! How could you do something like this? Not only did you try to ruin his company, but you tried getting him to cheat on me, too?” 

My father doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Darling, you know he’s never home. He’s constantly at his company, you don’t know what he’s doing, who he’s seeing-”

“Well, yeah, that’s all because of you!” 

He merely shrugs in response. “I have dozens, hundreds, of guys waiting to meet you. They come from much better families, they’re a lot richer than that bastard, they-” 

“I don’t care about anyone else, I’ve already chosen him. I’m married now, father, stop trying to sell me off to anyone that you can take advantage of!” 

“You don’t understand that I’m doing this all for you, darling, I-”

“No, you’re doing this all for your stupid company! How dare you call yourself a father?” I storm out of his room in tears, thinking about Baekhyun, poor Baekhyun, who’s stuck in all of this because of me. 

I pull out my phone and dial Chanyeol’s number. 

“(Y/N)! Are you okay? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since-” 

“Chanyeol, I need your help.” I interrupt him, taking one last look at my father’s company. 

Chanyeol goes quiet for a moment, before he says, “I’ll be in my apartment in 15 minutes. Wait for me there, okay?”

___

“Jagiya!” 

When Baekhyun comes home, he finds me sitting on the couch, my legs folded against me as the television blares in the living room. 

I look up at him, my eyes red from crying. I see a newspaper in his hands, and the sight makes me feel even worse. He comes to my side immediately. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. He wraps his arms around me and I can’t find the energy to lie to him, so I shake my head and sink further into his chest. 

“Don’t cry, jagiya. I’ll call my best lawyer and get him out as soon as-”

I pull myself out of his arms. I wipe my eyes, and swallow. “I’m the one that called the police, Baekhyun.” 

His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t try to get him out,” I say quickly. “I’m the one that called the police.”

“You?” He sits up straighter, still confused. “Why?”

“I-I went to his office this morning.” I stare at my feet. “I-I saw your secretary there. He- my father- was the one who hired her to forge your files. And- and, to try and get you to sleep with her. So-so when I find out, I’d,” I take a shaky breath. “I would leave you.”

“Your father?” 

I nod, ashamed. 

“I called Chanyeol. He brought the police and they took him and your secretary.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Are you sad because you feel like a bad daughter?”

“Bad fathers deserve bad daughters.” 

I hear him sigh and then he’s brushing my hair out of my face. “If it’s making you sad, I can take his place. I can release a statement that the files aren’t forged, and they’ll take me instead of him.” 

“What? No! That’s not it, Baekhyun, you know I-.” 

“Then why are you crying?”

I hide my face from him. “B-Because,” I swallow. “I was so upset about you not coming home, and I kept assuming things when in reality,” I hesitate, still not believing the words that were coming out of my mouth. “-when in reality, it was all my fault.” 

He chuckles as he puts his hand on my hip and slides me closer to him. I cover my face with my hands so he doesn’t see me crying. 

“Jagiya, what your father does has nothing to do with you.” He says softly. “Actually, if I had listened to you earlier, maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as they are now. I mean, if I hadn’t listened to you last night about telling your father, I’d still be in this mess, right?” He presses a soft kiss on my cheek. “So thank you.”

“Thank you?” I scoff. “Baekhyun, did you even hear what I said? My father has been trying to ruin you and your company for the past three months. My father’s been trying to get you to fuck your secretary just to get you away from me. My father’s been doing all this, and I just kept telling you to trust him over and over again. Why aren’t you mad?” 

He’s gives me a small smile. “Because he’s your father. And I love you.” 

My eyes widen. For some reason, this just makes me want to cry even more. He should be angry. He should yell, kick, scream. He should shout out “I told you so!” and walk out the door. But he isn’t. He’s hugging me close to him. He’s telling me he loves me. He’s even smiling

“Don’t- don’t you want to leave me?” I whisper. 

He laughs out loud this time. “Jagiya, the only thing that could take me from you is death itself. And even then, they won’t take me willingly.” He adds with a wink. 

I look down at my hands. “I still feel terrible.”

“You know what’ll make you feel less terrible?” He says with a smirk as he brings his mouth close to my ear. “…if we were to have a kid or two, don’t you think?” 

“Baekhyun-ah…” I cover my flushed face immediately.

“Jagiya,,,” He laughed as he pinched my cheek. Then, without warning, he lifts me into the air, and I scream as he carries me toward our bedroom. 

“Baekhyunnn,” I giggle into his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to say it, babe, I love you too.” 

I shake my head, but I can’t fight the smile off my face when the he shuts the door behind us.  

_____

Hope you liked this!! This is my first scenario on my new blog, so I would really appreciate it if you reblogged to get the word out! Requests are open, thank you!! 

madwriterscorner  asked:

Imagine Jamie visiting a modern supermarket and being shocked at the amount of food available and how easy it is to now feed yourself

Flood my Mornings: Aisles

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Not Yet (Jamie and Claire discuss modern contraception…and how long they’ll need it) 


September, 1950


Jamie stood entranced in the middle of the aisle, staring blankly at the sheer wealth of food surrounding him, enough to bury him a dozen times over. 

For that moment, he felt nothing but disgust.

Claire had said as much herself, a moment ago. “This is more modern and plentiful than what you’d find in Scotland or even England, these days. They’re still on war rations, you know,” she’d said, selecting a small bag of dried peas. “It’s a bit revolting, if I’m being honest–all this bounty when there are millions starving around the world, but,” she’d shrugged, “it’s here, and it certainly makes things simple.”

Aye, simple. 

The simplicity of unending plenty. 

The simplicity of more than enough money to partake of it.

The simplicity of a life without famine. 

He ran his fingers lightly, slowly, over rows of boxed rices and grains, feeling burning in his throat and ache in his heart. What wouldn’t he give? What agony would he not suffer to see a one-thousandth share of this abundance delivered to Lallybroch? To shower Jenny and Ian’s weans in more food than they could eat in a week? To see Jenny’s hollowed cheeks grow full and rosy once more?To see their faces at sight of the cakes and sweeties? Christ, only to see them…

Ye canna help them, he chided himself, bowing his head. Give thanks, man. Give thanks for your own full belly. Give thanks that Claire and Brianna are safe and fed. 

Lord, that they might be safe: my sister and her family.

“Da-aaaa?”

He snapped his head up toward the end of the aisle where wee Brianna’s face was craned around Claire’s elbow from her seat in the rolling cart. Despite the sadness still hanging like fog over his heart, Jamie couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the sight: the tiny blue bow on a clasp that Claire used to hold back the lass’s curls from her face was now dangling from the very tip of her forelock, bobbing jauntily against her jaw.

“Daaaaa?” Brianna wailed again, urging him to haste. The word transformed into a squawk as Claire pushed the handcart around the corner and caused them to disappear from view.

Jamie walked hastily forward, placing a hand lightly on the brim of his grey hat to keep it slipping off, shoes squeaking on the gleaming floor as he hurried toward the sounds of Bree’s calling for him, and Claire’s, “Oh for heaven’s sake, Bree, hush, he’s right behind us!” Brianna did not quiet even remotely until Jamie had reappeared, despite Claire’s best efforts. “Jesus H. Christ, I am so very ready for this phase of separation anxiety to run its course,” his wife said under her breath.

Jamie stooped to reaffix Brianna’s bow (Ms. Byrd called it a Barrette). “There you are, a chuisle. That’s better, aye?” 

Brianna misinterpreted his bending down as an intention to lift her out of the seat. When he failed to meet this expectation, she glared and made insistent noises at him, raising her hands up to him.

He gave her a steely eye and a raised brow. “Use words, Brianna. What would you like?”

She changed her tack at once, beaming angelically up at him. “Up-Da-peas?”

Much better,” he said gently, lifting his daughter up into his arms. On impulse he tossed her up high over his head and caught her again. 

For a moment, he thought she was going to start crying: her eyes had widened and she looked completely stunned from the suddenness of the motion. Then, she cackled uproariously and demanded, “Um’gin!!”

He obliged, giving two or three more tosses before nestling her back down under his chin and kissing her head. He stood swaying for a minute before noticing the strange looks he was receiving with nearly all the other shopgoers in view. One woman, who was standing a mere ten feet away, was actually glaring at him.

Months or even weeks before, he might have reddened and gone quiet, not wishing to attract further attention. Instead, he met the woman’s eyes with a graceful nod and said boldly, “May I be of some assistance to ye, madame?”

The woman gave a great huff, a scandalized, “Really!” and turned her back.

Claire was doing her best to keep from laughing, hiding her face in the cart as she set two loaves of bread within. 

Jamie gave a weary kind of noise. “I dinna have manure on my nose, do Sassenach?”

She gave a small sigh herself as she straightened up. I think the usual supermarket biddies aren’t used to seeing fathers here…least of all a father being openly affectionate to his daughter.”

Jamie snorted derisively. “They’d rather I shouted at her? Or pretended she wasna there?”

“Who bloody knows? I’m not often here myself, to be honest, God-Bless-Penelope-Byrd.

“God-Bless-Penelope-Byrd, indeed,” he agreed, kissing Bree again and smiling sweetly at the judgmental passersby. ‘Twas better than giving them a swift kick in the arses, nasty wee besoms. 

Together, while Claire gathered her selections, Jamie and Bree walked around the cases of fruits and vegetables, as ordered and gleaming as jewel-bright honeycombs. Given that Brianna was of the age where she gave the name of everything in sight (often ad nauseum), he pointed at the pile of potatoes Claire was sorting through. “D’ye ken what this is, a leannan?”

“Tay-toe!”came the prompt answer.

“Aye, po-tato, verra good. And in the Gaelic,” he said, switching to that language, “’tis buntàta. Can ye say that, wee love?”

“Mmm-ta-duh!”

Buntàta

“Bmm-ta-rra!”

Buntàta

“🎶Let’s-call-the-whole-thing-off🎶” Claire sang–-yes, sang! “Oh, never you mind,” she laughed when she saw his face, she carrying blithely on selecting onions and leeks as if it were perfectly natural to break into song with no explanation. 

As it turned out, Brianna proved to be as helpful to Jamie as he was to her when it came to naming the produce before them. For all his travel, education, and general knowledge of the world, he genuinely did not know the answer when he pointed at a huge, green-striped thing and asked. “And what is this, a chuisle?

“Warrr-men-in!” she squealed, lurching forward in his arms to reach for it.

“No, cub, we dinna need that,” he said, pulling her away. Christ, the thing seemed large and heavy enough to crush her! “Is that right, Sassenach? Warmennin?”

“Watermelon,” she corrected, smiling fondly. “They’re sweet and very juicy– perfect in summer!” She selected one and plunked it into the cart.

“Ye dinna need to buy one for my sake, Claire. I was just curi–”

“And why ever not?” she said, with a shrug and a twinkle of the eye, adjusting her handbag and giving his arm a playful tweak. “Live a little, why don’t you!”

“D’ye hear that, Bree?” Jamie said, shifting her up closer to his mouth so he could whisper all confidential-like: “Mama says we can have all the sweeties we desire!”

Brianna raised both hands and gave a cheer. Claire raised both eyebrows and gave a splutter of laughter. “Why you absolute scoundrel! I said no such thing!”

“But as we’re ‘living a little,’ mo nighean donn, I think we’d all feel more alive wi’ a wee bit of chocolate, aye?”


(The chocolate cake made an excellent final course to their rather eclectic backyard meal of Cock-a-leeky soup; crusty bread, purchased and then warmed in the oven with butter and garlic; two exceptional wines that Jamie agonized in choosing from the available multitude; for Bree, some alarmingly-green wriggly stuff called Jello; ….and Watermelon, all washed down with Coca-Cola).



to be continued

All The Nonsense of Suffering

Bethany Peters will tell you about the time her daughter crawled into the sewer pipe at the creek in the backyard and came out the other end at the waste treatment plant speaking in tongues. Her daughter was three years old at the time, and Bethany says she has dyslexia. Bethany Peters will tell you about how Christ came into her own life at a time when she considered prostitution. No one asks how she would have made such a living in Pickerel Lake, Michigan population 2,572 where downtown is an abandoned strip mall hosting weekend flea markets where you can get last year’s calendars at half-price (people collect them for the pictures).
      Bethany Peters will tell you about her first encounter with the Devil, at Morris Street near the P.O., where the stoplight was a stop sign in 1985. She had her groceries in a paper bag, and a carrot stick in her mouth, when the Devil (disguised as a house painter in overalls, with a dirty clergy collar) jaywalked from across the street and said, “Ma'am, can I borrow your spirit for a minute?” Bethany Peters was as big a woman then as she is now. She put her weight forward and said, “No sir, I believe I am redeemed by the blood of the Lamb,” and she dropped her groceries and slugged him in the gut. No one witnessed the event, but Mr. Terry (who’d driven in from the farm for a quick shave at Sam’s) later found Bethany flat on her back on the crabgrass by the P.O. Her groceries were all over the street: a can of evaporated milk, six packs of Nilla Wafers, and a jar of sweet pickled ginger for her daughter, who was six at the time. Bethany gave her testimony the next Sunday, and pastor Bob made her a church deaconess.
      She will tell you she always gets what she prays for. She will tell you she is part of the royal priesthood of God. She will tell you about the time she came home from church and found a wolverine in her kitchen, eating the bread biscuits she’d made for the Christian woman’s quilting bee. She’ll tell you how she got him out: by shaking her ceramic chimes from the patio, singing the hymn, “Christ is made the sure foundation,” which scared him out the front door, since Bethany Peters is tone deaf.
      She will tell you, without flinching, how her husband died; she isn’t squeamish. She doesn’t mind blood, other people’s or her own. She will tell you he was found crushed by a snow plow, having passed out in a drift near the Dutch Oven Bakery. His body was found in three equal parts. He was a contractor and a gambler and an alcoholic and sometimes he hit her in the face with his Sunday slippers. Bethany told everyone this in open confession at church many years later. “It really didn’t hurt at all,” she wept over the microphone. “But my spirit has never recovered.” The other members crept around her, laying on their hands, praying for emotional healing, reconciliation, and for Christ’s quick return, which will destroy all the nonsense of suffering, once and for all. Bethany cried and cried. She will tell you she never cried so much as then.
     She will tell you she is dieting, even though she eats what she likes. She is a big woman. Her body is as wide as a water heater, and her breasts hang like long water balloons to her middle, concealed in a variety of calico dresses made at Joanne’s Fabrics. She will tell you she has a younger brother named Guy, a small man with a handsome space between his two front teeth who is not a believer. He has been married three times, and now he runs a liquor store in the U.P. Bethany will tell you that we are all held accountable for what we know, and that God is merciful. She will not say much more about it, though.
      What she will tell you is this: her daughter got accepted to a state university after three years of community college. She is studying criminal law, although Bethany was hoping for something less serious: Home Economics, Physical Therapy, or religious studies. She will tell you that her daughter is the apple of her eye, as Elijah was the Apple of God’s eye. She will tell you she is glad she didn’t have boys, because boys grow up hating their mothers until they are adults, and then they overcompensate for the rest of their lives, calling long distance on weekends, or sending gift packets and coupons for hair conditioners in the mail. Bethany Peters will tell you she would not trade motherhood for all the hair conditioners of the world.
      Bethany will tell you about Joshua and the battle of Jericho; she will tell you Jesus drove seven demons out of Mary Magdalene; she will tell you the genealogy of Saul the Benjamite, from memory; she will tell you that Moses never said to Pharaoh, “Let my People go,” because Aaron did. She will tell you that Jesus’ last words were not “It is finished,” but “I finally did it!” She will tell you he died of dehydration, the most natural consequence. “Drink eight glasses a day,” she will tell anyone she meets at the supermarket. She will tell you about the abundance of mercy or the peace that passeth understanding. She will tell you about justification through grace and the atonement of sins. She will tell you she is happy to see you, and God bless.
     What Bethany Peters won’t tell you is that her mother was Jewish and her father was a soda salesman, with a head as bald as a baseball who spent his afternoons at the off-track betting depot in Muskegon. She won’t tell you about the time when she was four and her Uncle Joe took off his clothes in front of her when getting ready for the bath. She won’t tell you about the time in seventh grade when she broke Melissa Bricker’s nose with her physics notebook. She won’t tell you she didn’t start her period until she was sixteen. She never told anyone about that. She never told anyone about the time she stole money from her husband to buy a wrist watch with a compass, because she’d always wanted to know where she was going. She won’t tell you she hates black people, at least not in so many words. She won’t tell you she prefers women in dresses and men in hats, or that she threw a fit the day they let the girls wear slacks in church. She won’t tell you she is diabetic, and that she takes medication before bed. She won’t tell you she has a gun under the floorboards in the pantry. She won’t tell you about her miscarriage when she was twenty-seven or that she gave it a name: Lily Rose Peters. She will never tell you about the time she caught her daughter heavy petting on the back porch with Jeremy Keyswater. She will never tell you about the time she hit a doe with her husband’s Jeep, and backed up over it to put it out of it’s misery. She will never tell you that she hasn’t shaved her legs in sixteen years. She will never tell you how she lost her front teeth when her husband jabbed her with his elbow. She will never tell you she is sorry but she doesn’t have time to talk right now. And she will never tell you about the two German Shepherds she keeps in the cellar, tied to the furnace with rope, their mouths shut with duct tape, or how she feeds them Oleson’s day old steaks and tomato juice, hitting them with kindling or snapping their sides with a hot wet rag, nourishing their tempers, and in the end times, when the world is one big riot, she will loose them on the antichrist, once and for all.

Sufjan Stevens (New School Literary Journal)

A Michigan native currently living in New York City, Sufjan Stevens is a graphic designer, an amateur seamster, a crocheter of ski caps, and a writer of short fiction. He has an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from The New School. Having once studied oboe technique and reed making at Interlochen Academy of Music, Sufjan has since given up the double reed for the electric guitar.

Grace To Be Said At The Supermarket. Howard Nemerov

That God of ours, the Great Geometer,

Does something for us here, where He hath put

(If you want to put it that way) things in shape,

Compressing the little lambs in orderly cubes,

Making the roast a decent cylinder,

Fairing the tin ellipsoid of a ham,

Getting the luncheon meat anonymous

In squares and oblongs with the edges bevelled

Or rounded (streamlined, maybe, for greater speed).

Praise Him, He hath conferred aesthetic distance

Upon our appetites, and on the bloody

Mess of out birthright, our unseemly need,

Imposed significant form. Through Him the brutes

Enter the pure Euclidean kingdom of number,

Free of their bulging and blood-swollen lives

They come to us holy, in cellphane

Transparencies, in the mystical body,

That we may look unflinchingly on death

As the greatest good, like a philosopher should.

Everyone's Waiting

Previous part can be found here.

Part 16

Mamrie’s still waiting in the lounge when Hannah and Grace come out, from down the hall. She glances up when she hears them shuffling closer and sweeps a glance at Hannah’s eyes, puffy and guarded and then at Grace’ whose eyes don’t give away much more, before quickly looking back down to make sure she’s not ruined anything.

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licieoic  asked:

I need more of the grade school teacher/parent AU! That was so adorable!!

(Here is the ficlet Licie mentioned)

She saw John a week later, when he called the office to say that he wasn’t able to pick Ian and Sarah up at the right time, so they didn’t mind terribly if he was fifteen minutes late, would they? Sarah’s teacher was a mother herself so Rose offered to watch them both so that she could pick up her children.

Rose sat down with them in the reading area, smiling. “I have a surprise for you both,” she said, and pulled out two workbooks, but this time in reading and writing. “One for you both.”

Sarah looked delighted. “This is a high school level book!”

“You may want to ask your dad if you can work on it, but even if it takes until next year I think you will enjoy it,” Rose replied. “How’s the math book coming along?”

“We’re already half way through it,” Ian said as Sarah looked through the work book excitedly. “At least I am. Sarah doesn’t like it as much.”

Rose smiled. “She just has different interests, it’s not a bad thing. From the way she’s looking through that workbook I suspect she’ll go through it faster than you will.” At his look Rose narrowed her eyes. “That’s not a dare, young man. Promise me you won’t look through this until your dad says you are good an ready.”

“Promise,” Ian muttered.

Sarah clutched the book tightly. “Miss Tyler, will you be our nanny?”

Rose blinked. “Pardon?”

“Our nanny quit because we were precocos… precoshish… pre…”

“Precocious?” Rose asked.

“Yep. Preeecoooociouuuss,” Sarah replied. “What does that mean?”

“It means you ask a lot of questions,” Rose replied. “And that’s not a bad thing, so don’t you dare stop. And while you are wonderful children, I already have a job here.”

Sarah remained stubborn. “But you can have two jobs!”

“I have a flat, Sarah,” Rose said gently. “And teaching takes up more time than you think. I’m sure your father will find another nanny who you’ll adore.”

Ian frowned at his twin. “Sarah, you know what Dad said about being rude!”

“Sorry,” she muttered, but Rose could see Sarah’s mind whirling. Bemused, she pulled her book out of her purse and watched as the children began working on their homework.

Sarah noticed her father first, leaping up and scrambling across the room. “Daddy, daddy! Look what Miss Tyler got me!” she exclaimed, shoving the book at him as he bent down to hug her. He got a face full of paper instead, and dodged so that it wouldn’t smash into his face. 

“That’s… lovely, Sarah,” he said, startled, then grinned when he read the title. “Ohhh, she’s spoiling you, she is. Before long you’ll be asking to live with her instead!”

“Nonsense,” Ian proclaimed as he marched up. “You’re too silly to be anyone else’s father.”

“Is that so?” John asked, laughter in his voice. “Well, get your things together, kids. Your sister is in the car, and she’s getting fussy.”

They ran to do as they were told, and Rose approached John with a smile. “I don’t mind watching Ian and Sarah on days you’re running late,” she told him. “I was raised by a single mother, I know how rough it can be.”

He sighed and smiled gratefully. “I try to be there for them, but sometimes University can be demanding. I just haven’t found a nanny that can keep up with them.”

Rose smiled and bent down to hug Ian as he told her goodbye. “I’m sure the right one will come along,” she said after the kids ran out into the hallway. 

John smiled softly. “Yeah. I think she will.” He looked down at Sarah, who was tugging at his coat, and laughed. “Alright alright, let’s go. Bye, Rose.”

“See you later,” she said, and waved. Ian and Sarah waved enthusiastically, and John once more graced her with that soft smile before he disappeared. Sarah and Ian shot each other knowing smiles and immediately began whispering to each other.

As Rose moved about the room and tidied things up, she wondered just what the smile meant.

Better than chocolate...

Jason was so unbelievably nervous that the piece of paper in his hand must have been completely soaked in cold sweat at the time he arrived at his favorite shelf. From this spot he had normally the best view at the young sales assistant at his cashpoint which Jason liked to watch for a minute or two. He had never dared to pay at HIS cash register because he would have done something mortifying stupid for sure like he always did when he was interested in somebody. 

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Too Hot

Just a bit of Hartbig fluff, sfw, sff, really just cuteness,  

Summery: Hannah trying to get Grace to keep a promise she made.

Any and all mistakes are my own, enjoy.

___________________________________________________________

“Mrrgf”

Hannah stares at the unmoving woman on the bed, her face pushed into the mattress. Sighing, Hannah rests her hands on her hips.

“What? Grace I can’t understand you with sheet in you mouth" 

Grace makes a show of lifting her head up, dramatically slow, turning it to the side so she’s now looking at Hannah.

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