#kicks down door months late with starbucks >3>

[highdramas]

the world’s a little blurry | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2107

summary: bucky is home, and he is yours

note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol

enjoy! <3

it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.

living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.

second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.

third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.

it’s nice.

it feels safe.

and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.

bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.

this was the biggest adjustment of all.

he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.

“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”

no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.

but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.

that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.

it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.

and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.

the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.

things were getting better.

of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.

his girl.

as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.

bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.

“go back to sleep, doll.”

you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”

home.

had he ever had a home before? 

he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.

he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.

you’re home.

bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”

you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”

he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”

something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.

“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”

“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”

“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”

sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”

with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”

he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”

“part of the gig.”

you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”

“got unfinished business first.”

you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”

these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.

“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”

“i know.”

the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”

“there’s dried drool on my face.”

“yeah, i know.”

it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”

“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.

“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.

you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.

i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.

when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”

“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”

delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”

he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”

a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”

“but i’m not done--”

“please. let me.”

you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.

“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”

bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.

you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”

the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”

bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.

[gayhotpriests]

been here all along [fic]

Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k

Read on ao3

The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.

The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.

A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.

(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)

“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”

-

Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.

A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.

He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.

Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.

Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.

“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.

“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.

Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.

Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.

Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.

A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.

“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.

Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.

“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”

“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.

“I’m ready, Buck!”

With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.

“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.

It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.

Eddie falls.

[puppetsoftomorrow]

the avalance news reader au

hey who said peer pressure doesn't work. anyway i made this post and y'all seemed to like it so here we go!! might post to ao3 later on idk...

It had been a truly terrible day.

Ava considered, in the moment that her coffee machine spluttered coughed up coffee grounds over her last clean shirt, that maybe she'd just had a truly terrible year. All her dreams about finally moving to television after being stuck in the doldrums of local news media for six years had been slashed when she'd been placed on the graveyard shift - sure, Ava was finally reading the news, but her shift was from 1AM until 4AM, so her only audience was long-distance truck drivers and new parents.

Still, she persevered, with the slightly foolish belief that if she worked hard enough, she could be promoted to a primetime slot. Or at least a slot that didn't require her to be making coffee at 10:45PM.

Her day had started off badly - she'd barely slept, as the sound from the construction work three blocks away rattled her windows, and she’d woken to find that her cat, Merlin, had kicked his litter halfway across the house in a fit of pique. Ava couldn't even have her normal oatmeal, as she was out of oat milk, and now she was having to drink her coffee black.

After changing her shirt to a dark dress and grimacing as she choked down the coffee, there was a knock on the door, and Ava groaned as she realised she was running late.

"Hey, Sara." She sighed.

Sara stood in the doorway, hair wavy over her shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie - the same grey hoodie she wore every day, branded with their news station's logo.

"Woah, a dress?" Sara said, eyebrows raised appreciatively, as Ava grabbed her coat and bag and they moved to go down the stairs.

"Don't mention it." Ava grumbled, pulling the coat around her shoulders.

"It looks good on you." Sara said, and Ava shot her a look. Sara mimed zipping her lips. "Do we have to time for Starbucks? I had to have black coffee; my mouth tastes like something died in it." Ava muttered, and Sara shrugged.

"I mean, we've arrived half an hour early for every shift for the past year -"

"Do you want to go back to taking the bus?" Ava said, looking over at her as they reached the lobby. They'd discovered they lived in the same building almost accidentally in Ava's first week, awkwardly meeting across the hall in the early morning, until Sara had realised that Ava had a car and they'd started riding in together.

"Fine, if you're happy with having bad angles." Sara said, holding the door open for her, and Ava rolled her eyes.

"Are you saying I have bad angles?"

"Oh, I'll find one." Sara muttered, and Ava snorted with laughter and unlocked the car. One of the benefits to giving her camera operator a ride every day was always having excellent angles.

After a stop at Starbucks, Ava rolled along the dark, quiet roads, sighing deeply.

"What's up?" Sara asked, sipping her drink - black coffee, which she somehow enjoyed.

"Nothing." Ava muttered, but it only took one look at Sara for her to come out with the story of her crappy day. Sara laughed.

"So that's why you're wearing the dress."

"That's what you're focusing on?" Ava said, focusing on the road with a small smile on her face. "I have to go back to my apartment at 5AM and clean up kitty litter and coffee grounds."

"Not to mention getting coffee out of your shirt." Sara snorted, and Ava groaned, loud and over the top.

///

They always split when they got to the studio, Ava marching off to make-up to get ready, and Sara taking the elevator to the studio floor to set up her camera. The studio was always dead past midnight, just a skeleton crew left, which Sara found she enjoyed - it was easier to know everyone that way. She waved at Nate, distracting him from where he was running through the weather, muttering under his breath and checking his perfectly coiffed hair in the camera. He waved back, a bright smile on his face.

Careful not to trip over any of the wires on the floor, Sara made her way up to the box above the studio, the cramped room filled from head to toe with blinking lights and buttons, with a large window so they could look down on the studio. The techs – Behrad and Charlie - were sat with headphones on, running through sound checks, so Sara just waved to them as she found who she was looking for.

Zari, the studio runner, was running through her clipboard, muttering under her breath. When she saw Sara coming, she rolled her eyes. "Back again?"

"What have you got for her today?" Sara asked, keeping her voice nonchalant.

"The usual. Some city councilor has been embezzling funds, Star City is readying to bid for the 2028 Olympics, and former mayor Queen is opening a patisserie down-town. It's been a quiet week."

"Exactly." Sara said, her grin widening. "You've got to add the cat one."

Ray, their head writer, had found a story a week ago about a fat cat attending the Star City pet spa to lose weight, and Sara had been tracking down clips of the poor thing, bribing the editor, Nora, to pull them together. She'd even written a script. Zari looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?"

"Yes! I have a bet going with Mick - if I can get Ava to break on camera by the end of the month, he's got to give me $50." Sara said. It was ridiculous, she'd started the bet - truthfully, she found it endearing how Ava read the news with the same abject sternness whether she was covering a political scandal or a dog who'd learnt to surf in Star City Bay. She'd only broken her composure once - a smile creeping on her face when reporting on the 5th birthday of a crocodile at Star City Zoo named Snaps. From that day on, Sara had vowed to make her laugh, properly, live on air.

"I don't have any time to make up." Zari said, and Sara sighed.

"Yeah, but you know Ava reads quick enough. Please? For me?"

Zari seemed immune to the puppy eyes, so Sara sighed. "And I'll give you $20."

Zari snorted. "Do you have $20?"

"I'll have $50 when I win the bet." Sara countered, and Zari sighed.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

"Z, you're the best." Sara said with a grin, and turned to return to the studio floor.

///

The program went smoothly, like always. Sara liked her job, the focus of filming and the pride she got when she saw her own work on TV, but she liked it better when she was filming Ava, who had pretty much insisted from day one that Sara be her primary operator.

Ava looked especially pretty today, someone in make-up evidently having convinced her that she didn't need the bun today, and instead curled her hair over both shoulders, which didn't completely cover Ava's defined arms, visible in her sleeveless dress.

The night ran the same as most others, Ava transitioning smoothly between topics and engaging in light, courteous banter with Nate before he presented the weather. Sara looked at Ava during these moments, the five minutes she was off camera, where she looked down at her notes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Okay, so maybe Sara wanted to make Ava laugh because she looked so pretty doing it. Sue her.

They were coming near the end, and Sara was losing hope that the story would be included, until she heard the segue.

"Now, in lighter news," Ava started, her eyebrows suddenly shooting up as she read the prompter. Sara grinned; Zari had obviously left this out of Ava's notes to inspire more of a reaction.

"Cats," Ava blurted out, steadying herself before continuing, "they're not normally known for their love of swimming, but one feline in Star City is hitting the water instead of the gym in a bid to lose weight. Mr. Snuggles -" Ava bit her lip as the pictures played on the monitor - a black and white cat in a life vest, looking absolutely terrified, and Sara grinned. "Mr. Snuggles is a thirteen-year-old cat who - dislikes the outdoors and other physical activities."

Sara's grin widened as Ava lost it, barely making it through her lines through her giggles. Her face was flushing pink and she bit her lip to try and compose herself. "But with encouragement from his owner -" Ava pressed on, trying to hold herself together, "Mr. Snuggles had lost one pound in six months."

That was the final straw, as Ava descended into a full-on laugh, barely making it through her sign off. Sara was so distracted by the sound she nearly missed Zari's voice in her ear. "Camera 1 to Camera 3 in 3, 2, 1 -"

Sara switched off, but not before Ava snorted, flushing even deeper and covering her face with her hands at the sound, not disguised by the jingle from the lottery numbers playing across the screen.

///

Ava had bolted from the set, and Sara packed up her equipment as quickly as possible, ducking out just in time to catch Ava as she walked down the corridor to the lobby. Her face was now free of make-up, her hair tied up in a messy bun, but she was still in the dress that left Sara's mouth a little dry. She looked at Sara, blushing again.

"I can't believe you did that." She groaned, and Sara put on her most innocent face on.

"Did what?"

"Bribed Zari to put the cat story in! John in make-up said that Charlie had told him that you'd bribed Zari."

"To win $50!" Sara said, grinning. "And you have a really cute laugh."

Ava looked up; eyebrow furrowed. "Really?"

"Yep." Sara said, trying to play it cool. "Look, do you want half? I feel bad now."

Ava sighed. "No, it's okay."

"I could buy you dinner." Sara said, almost blurting it out, and Ava looked at her. "To make up for it."

Ava's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Uh - yeah, okay. I can do dinner."

~the end~

okay so this was fun to write and i kind of want to write more so uhh send me where u think this story should go. or ideas for a part 2 maybe. thanks for reading!!

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down (chapter iii)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: word count: 1,624

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: You run into Harry again when you least expect it but when you need him the most. 

warnings: language as per usual.

>>><<<

It'd been three weeks since the cookout at Mitch and Sarah's. Three weeks since you had made the big move and three weeks of being absolutely lost every single time you left your apartment. You had no idea how people got around in this damn city but you suspected them all of being wizards. There's no way someone could figure out how to use the subway and not know magic. You had already taken the wrong one 3 times on the way to drop Thea off to her first day at her new school and if you didn't find out where you were going in the next hour you'd be late not only to drop her off but to your new job as well.

"Okay, sunshine let's get going before momma gets us lost again and you're late." You said as you handed her the breakfast muffin and juice box you had ordered for her at the Starbucks you managed to stumble upon. You wanted to take her out to a nice breakfast, somewhere that had pancakes, which were her favorite, as a celebratory meal before her first day but unfortunately you getting lost 3 times meant you had to quickly change your plans.

She nodded as she took a bite of the muffin you were regretting giving to her in the first place. It looked like it had definitely seen better days but she was hungry and you had no time to stop and get a better meal. At least your 5 shot espresso iced latte was decent and it would definitely kick your ass in gear.

You started to frantically look in purse for your phone as you both walked down the crowded street. You knew you just had it and the address for her school was in your phone notes. There was no way you were going to make it there without that damn address and your stress level was rising the more you searched and couldn't find it.

"Momma," Thea said as she tugged on your pinstriped pantsuit. "Harry!"

"Yes baby I know we're in a hurry but if I don't find my phone we're definitely not making it there in time." You were half-listening to her. Your heart slamming against your chest as anxiety bubbled up in you. You had everything in your phone. Including the address to get to your apartment because you still had no idea how to get there on your own yet.

"No Momma. Harry not hurry!" She huffed right as you found your phone and pulled it out of your purse. Your sigh of relief was cut short though as you walked face-first into someone. Of course this day just had to get worse and worse.

"Oh my god." You shrieked as the contents of your purse went everywhere. Your drink spilling all down the person you walked into but managed by some luck to not get all over you.

"I'm so so sorry!" You bent down quickly trying to desperately shove everything back into your purse, not even looking at the person. Embarrassment wasn't even close to the right word. You were on the verge of tears, you just wanted today to be perfect and so far it had been complete shit.

"I promise I'll pay for dry cleaning or even buy you a new shirt or something." You rambled, your words running together as you quickly picked up your business card holder so they could get a hold of you and you could repay them for the shirt or get it cleaned for them.

"Here you go." You said, taking out a card and standing up, finally getting a good look at the person you ran into.

"Oh my god." You muttered under your breath. Fuck your life. You just had to run into him. Had to, because of course your luck was shit. If you thought you were embarrassed before you definitely were now. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you hated yourself for being the type of person who literally cried over any small inconvenience.

You're a strong bitch, do not cry. Do not cry. DO NOT CRY. Your brain chanted over and over again as you stood dumbfounded in front of Harry.

"Well, I'm going to go die of embarrassment over there so…" You trailed off as you handed him your business card and tried to move around him but Thea kept you firmly in your place.

"Momma, Harry can help us find my school." She suggested before she took the last bite of her breakfast muffin as she peered up to Harry. Basically pleading with him to save her from your almost meltdown with her big doe eyes.

"I'm sure Harry is very busy sweetheart." You said trying to choke back all the emotions that were starting to get the best of you. You didn't want to admit you needed help, your pride always seemed to get in the way.

"'S not a problem," Harry said softly. His voice sounding like it was begging you to just let him help. You let out a small sigh before nodding your head in agreement and showing him the address on your phone.

"My GPS kept saying it was around a corner but when I get there it says rerouting." You huffed. "I've already managed to get us lost 3 times on that stupid subway, don't think I could take getting lost one more time." You admitted with your eyes firmly kept on the phone screen but you could feel his stare burning into you.

"Just the next street over is all." He said turning around and taking Thea's now empty muffin wrapper in his one hand, so he could hold her hand with his free one.

"Come on, I'll walk you to make sure you don't get lost again." He started to walk with Thea a few steps in front of you before you quickly caught up to them. She gave Harry the rundown of your disastrous morning but then moved on to tell him how excited she was to start school.

"Momma says that they have a playground and I'll get to play on it if I'm good and listen to my teacher." She beamed. She had been talking about recess since she first found out she was able to go to kindergarten.

"Well, I guess you better make sure to listen to your teacher so you can play today." A smile crept up on his face as Thea started swinging their hands back and forth together. She did a little skip as she agreed with Harry.

It wasn't even 10 minutes later and you were finally standing in front of her school. You bent down to her level and gave her a tight hug, kissing her on her cheek.

"Okay baby girl, tell me the rules." You said pulling back from her and adjusting the backpack straps on her shoulders.

"Don't be a jerk." You smiled as you heard Harry laugh behind you two. She was right it was one of your top rules for her, be a nice person.

"Share my toys with anyone who wants to borrow them." She continued the list and held up a perfectly painted purple finger every time she listed the next rule.

"Only you pick me up from school unless my teacher says so." Another finger popped into the air.

"No getting in cars with strangers." You nodded encouragingly, knowing she was doing a great job remembering everything you've drilled her on over the past month.

"And give momma lots of kisses cause she'll miss me a whole lot." She said holding up all five fingers before throwing herself at you, almost making you lose balance on your heels, as she hugged you tightly and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"Good job baby now go have fun and learn lots of stuff." You smiled down to her as you stood and she turned making her way to the school door. She turned around one last time and waved goodbye to you and Harry before marching up the steps towards the door.

"Make good choices!" You yelled after her, your voice cracking a bit. You were having a harder time than you wanted to admit letting her go even if you knew she had to grow up at some point.

Your eyes started to blur with tears as you watched her baby blue backpack disappear through the double doors. You wanted so desperately to hide your emotions like you always did but the second Harry placed a hand on your shoulder a small sob escaped you. Making him pull you in for a full hug.

"She'll be fine." He said hugging you tightly and even though you didn't want to admit it, the smell of him was calming you down. You laid your forehead against his chest as you got yourself to finally stop crying but you pulled back suddenly.

"Shit, I'm going to have coffee all over my face for my first day." You sighed but laughed at the state of his shirt. "Really sorry about that. I'll have it dry cleaned. I'd buy you a new one but I know damn well it probably cost more than my rent." You pulled back from him and immediately missed the warmth even if he was covered in coffee.

He laughed, shaking his head, making his messy brown curls sway back and forth with the motion.

"Let's get you to work." He smirked, knowing that you couldn't turn down his help now. Knowing he finally had you talking to him for longer than 5 minutes. You gulped before nodding, after all it couldn't hurt to be friendly, right?

[kitkatd7]

Christmas Coffee

12 Days of Christmas; Day 1

Pairing: Barista!Ransom x Reader (Soft College AU) (Based in New York for the Rockefeller center and Christmas feeling) 

Summary: You usually stop for Starbucks before class but the semester is over. That won’t stop you from stopping by to see the cute barista though ;)

Warnings: None? Just fluff, caffeine  and snow.

Request: Ransom loses money access, works for Starbucks, falls for cute barista. (Requested by @malloryharris )

Word Count: 1108

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s my first Christmas/winter story! Also @malloryharris I’m sorry I changed it a bit from your request, but I really couldn’t get it to flow within the exact guidelines. I hope it’s okay!! Love you. (Also covid doesn’t exist in these stories and It’s 1 week before Christmas here :))

Masterlist of Masterlists

Other Characters Masterlist

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

---------------

You receive your favorite holiday coffee from the starbucks barista with a smile and small “thank you,” before glancing at your cup with a sigh. Every time. You would think that since you've been here 2 days a week for the past 3 and a ½ months they would at least learn to spell your name correctly, but no. Not even once have they spelled it right. You're usually too busy rushing off to class to even glance at it, but the semester has finally drawn to an end. With no class to scurry to, you step to the side, pulling out your phone before subtly glancing behind the counter, hoping to catch a glimpse of the reason you even come here; the quiet, brooding barista you’ve been silently crushing on since the beginning of the semester. 

Finding no sign of him you turn to go, gasping when you spill a third of your drink down the front of a barista in a dark green cashmere sweater. 

“I am so sorry!” 

“Watch where-” The biting remark dies on his lips as his eyes land on you. Straightening, he takes a half step back. “It’s alright. It wasn’t very hot at least.”

“I wasn’t looking and I was upset about my order and- I should have been more careful,” you blabber, blushing in embarrassment as a small smirk appears on his lips. 

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me then, won’t you, sweetheart?” 

You blush harder, tripping over your words, “ho-how?”

“Ask me out.” His tone is between teasing and daring, but he’s not expecting you to do ask. 

“But I don’t even know your name,” you reason.

“Ransom. Ransom Drysdale. And you are…?” He asks, glancing at the spelling on your cup in confusion. 

Chuckling slightly, you give your name, feeling a little more comfortable. You extend your hand politely and his large hand envelopes yours. “They always spell my name wrong,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

“Well how is it supposed to be spelled?”

Spelling it properly, you laugh gently as he gives what is almost a smile.

Anyway- I’m not asking you out, I’m telling you what’s gonna happen,” you smile flirtatiously as his eyes widen in shock.  “Friday night, 8 o’clock and don’t be late. Meet me at the restaurant across the street.” With that you waltz towards the exit, feeling more than a little surprised at your own forwardness- and Ransom was feeling the same. 

He wasn’t used to other people’s cockiness and attitude- but at least he got his Christmas wish; he was finally going out with you after glancing at you across the counter for 4 months.

-------------

Thursday morning rolls around quickly, with snow coming down in large, slow drifting flakes; blanketing New York in what truly is a winter wonderland. Slipping into your black jeans and a light pink v-neck, you grab your leather jacket and black beanie before walking out the door and the short distance to Starbucks. 

Ordering your usual, you scroll through Instagram while you wait. 

“Hey.”

Startled, you look up to see Ransom holding your order.

“Hey,” you repeat, smiling at him as he hands you your drink. 

“Thank you.” Checking the spelling out of habit, you're startled when it’s correct. “Did you…?” you ask, gesturing to it.

“I’ve gotta get back to work,” is his only response as he shrugs nonchalantly- but his eyes are bright and a small smile tilts his lips and that’s all the answer you need as you blush.

“I’ve gotta go anyways. But don’t be late tomorrow, and dress warm!” 

“Why do I need to dress warm for dinner?” He implores, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Who said we were going to dinner?” You smirk, watching his brows furrow further. Shooting him a wink, you walk towards the door.

You look back over your shoulder when he asks, “Where are we going then??”

“You’ll have to show up to find out!” You say cheerily, a small laugh leaving your lips as he almost smiles. 

------------------

Waiting under the restaurant sign, you smile when you see a tall, unmistakable figure walking towards you in a brown trenchcoat. 

“Wow- you look... beautiful,” he says honestly, gaze drifting over your favorite outfit before meeting your eyes again.

“Thank you… You look handsome.” You return his warm smile. 

“So… Wanna tell me where we’re going?” He asks, falling into step beside you.

Giggling softly you glance at him, looking away when you find him already looking at you. “No… I don’t think I’ll tell you. It’s your Christmas surprise,” you say with a wink as he sighs.

“I’m not gonna convince you to tell me, am I?”

“Nope! But cheer up! I promise it’s good. Totally unrelated question... but what shoe size do you wear?” 

“10 or 10 ½… Why?”

“No reason.” You smile up at him.

You walk a few blocks with a stream of chatter between you; getting to know each other.

Pulling a dark green handkerchief from your back pocket. “Stop here and put this on,” you say as he looks at you suspiciously.

“Oh c’mon! It’s clean and everything,” you joke as he relents, tying it behind his head with a huff.

 Taking his hand you start leading him slowly down the street, missing the blush that dusts his cheeks. 

“2 tickets and rentals please,” you say, walking up to the window, murmuring a polite “thank you” before pulling Ransom after you. “Okay sit here,” you say, guiding him to a bench. “I’ll be right back.” 

A moment later you reappear. “You can take that off now.” 

As he slips the blindfold off, you hold up 2 pairs of ice skates, a victorious, cheeky smile plastered on your face. “Surprise!!!” 

His brows furrow, and your smile falters, thinking you must have done something wrong. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- This was a bad idea. We can go, if you want,” you offer, your smile melting away.

“What? No, that’s not it. This is great!” He says reassuringly, giving you another half smile. “I just, uh, don’t know how to ice skate,” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Smiling, you put on your skates. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” At your words, the first real smile you’ve seen appears on his lips., reflecting your own.

3 and a ½ hours later when they kick you out at closing time, you’re both breathless and bright eyed. 

You stroll home slowly, laughing and smiling all the way, your smile growing when his larger hand slips into yours and large snowflakes fall in unhurried swirls around you. 

--------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading!! Any and all feedback is welcome!

Forever Tags: (OPEN)

@lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed @romainniesweetheart​ @angelinathebook @malloryharris @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff @imma-new-soul @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fablesrose @coffeebooksandfandom

12 Days of Christmas: (OPEN)

@myraiswack

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 6

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, AO3

~*CS*~

Chicago, May 15th

Emma could feel a headache starting to bloom at the base of her skull.  She hadn’t gotten enough sleep, which wasn’t unusual, and she’d only had the chance to drink one cup of coffee since the day started, which was.  To make matters worse the sound check had been going wrong since the beginning and she had been forced to play the first verse of Bite of Iron four times, never making it past the first line of the chorus before having to start again.

“Alright, Emma, let’s see if that fixed it.  Whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded, biting her cheek against the tirade she wanted to let loose.  Barely a minute in the sound tech interrupted her again.  Flexing her hands into fists over the keys of the piano she counted to ten, then did it backwards before speaking into her mike.

“Can we take a break?”

“Su-”

“They’ve almost got it, Emma.  Right gentleman?” Regina broke in from the side of the stage where she was standing with the others since they weren’t needed for the song.  She had barely looked up from her phone and was still typing away as she continued, “You do want it to sound right, don’t you?  Let them do their job and then you can move past this one.”

At Regina’s words something in Emma snapped.  She stood abruptly from her piano, a loud buzzing in her ears.  Someone, she wasn’t entirely sure who, started saying something to her but she barely heard what they were saying as she practically ran offstage.  All she wanted was to get a lungful of fresh air, anything to ease the clawing at her throat.

In her rush to find an exit that led outside she ended up getting turned around and completely confused as to where she was.  The clawing feeling had traveled down to her chest, compressing her lungs so it was getting hard for her to breathe.  Before she could lose her shit completely a warm hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged gently.

“Follow me, love.”

She let Killian lead her through the labyrinth like corridors, barely paying attention to the turns they were taking or the doors they were going through.  However, when they entered a stairwell she paused.

“Killian…”

He looked back at her, giving her an encouraging smile, “Trust me?”

It wasn’t even a question to her.  Somehow, in the month since they’d been thrown together he had become someone she trusted completely.  She nodded and his smile widened as he squeezed her hand and began their ascent.  Though she found she was distracted from their progress again at the sight of her hand in his, not to mention the way his jeans hugged his ass as he climbed.

All too quickly Killian opened a door that had sunshine streaming into the stairwell and the heat of the day rolling over them.  He had taken her to the roof of the auditorium.  It was dotted with air conditioning units and not much else but she noticed that it did have a pretty good view of the city that was sprawled out all around them.

“It’s not much but it’ll give you some time to yourself-” he held out a slim silver can that she hadn’t noticed before, “I hadn’t seen your ubiquitous starbucks cup today so I thought you might want this.  Come back down when you’re ready and don’t worry about Regina, I’ll handle it.”

Taking the can of coffee, the one that was on her rider for the days exactly like the one she’d been having, a brand that could only be found in the corner of Maine that Storybrooke inhabited and that Killian had clearly gone to the green room to get before finding her, she was suddenly overwhelmed in a different way than before.  No one, not even Mary Margaret and David had known exactly what she needed when things got overwhelming and provided it without question or needing an explanation.  He made to leave but she gripped his hand in hers, holding him in place.

“Stay?” She asked softly, “Please?”

His eyes searched hers before he seemed to find what he was looking for.  With a nod he walked them over to a small strip of shade provided by the stairwell housing and sat with his back against it.  Once he settled he patted the spot next to him, wordlessly inviting her to join him.

The surface of the roof was warm when she sat but not uncomfortably so.  There was a slight breeze, not enough to dry the sweat that was gathering at her temples but enough to break the heat of the day.  Emma could hear the traffic moving along and through the city, a not so unpleasant hum that matched the air conditioning units kicking on and off to make a bit of a song.  She felt herself smile at the thought of putting lyrics to the sounds and then snorted in amusement at the fact that it was easier to make up a song on the fly than to play one she’d intentionally written.

“Something funny, Swan?” Killian asked, his own voice laced with humor.

“Only if you’re me,” she said wryly, snapping open the coffee and drinking near half of it one one go.  She tipped her head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, “Did you know?”

“Hmm?  Know what?”

She kept her gaze trained upwards but could imagine his eyebrow ticked up in slight confusion and intrigue, “When you said to play Bite of Iron, did you know that I’d never played it live before?”

“Not once?” She shook her head and he gave a low hum, “No, love, I didn’t.  It is a beautiful song, it’s a shame the sound guys did it such an injustice.  No wonder you stormed off.”

For a moment she almost didn’t want to correct him.  There really was no reason to explain or even justify her behavior.  She was sure that he’d seen worse from others in the business, she’d seen it herself.  The thing was she wanted to tell him the truth of what had upset her.  It was like the words were pressing against her lips, ready to spill out into her lap.  Just as she made up her mind to go through with it, absolutely certain that he wouldn’t judge or condemn her, he began to speak.

“Everyone assumed Milah was the diva of the group and she could be, if the occasion called for it, as could I.  But Liam-” he chuckled and then sighed, “Liam never gave into theatrics but if things weren’t going exactly how he wanted it he could, and would, let his displeasure be known.  He once refused to board our tour bus one evening because the driver had decided to take a nap and got to the venue nearly an hour late.  We had to charter a plane to make it to our next stop on the tour because Liam’s obstinance caused an even bigger delay to our departure.  The label made him pay for the cost of the plane from his own pocket.  Served the git right.”

Emma sat completely still, entranced.  He hadn’t talked to her about Liam since Cincinnati and she’d noticed that he’d been writing in his notebooks more since then.  She had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same push that she was to share the painful parts of his past.  To trust her with them.

“You miss him,” she said softly but surely.  It was easy to hear the longing in his voice.

“Aye, I miss them both.  It’ll be twelve years and I still expect Liam to come walking into my apartment calling me ‘little brother’ or I’ll wake and reach for Milah across the empty bed-” his hand clenched on his thigh before he sighed again, “There’s a constant ache in my chest for missing them.”

She didn’t know what to say, what he would want to hear.  There had been precious few people in her life that she felt that strongly about and she had never lost any of them.  Just thought of either of the Nolans or Ruby being taken from her as Killian’s brother and fiance had been had her breath backing up in her throat.

“This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you escaped, was it?” he asked, nudging her shoulder with his. “Apologies.”

“Don’t,” she said quickly, grabbing onto the hand that was still clenched on his thigh. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about them.  I get the feeling you don’t do it very often.”

“That I don’t-” he unclenched his hand and she let hers settle in his open palm, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest as she did. “It was too hard at first, I’d lash out or dive deeper into the bottle, most times both, and then people just stopped asking.  Decent people that is, the gossip rags and paps are the soulless exception.

“Milah hated them from the start.  They followed her around more than the rest of us seeing as she was the lead singer and a beautiful woman to boot.  Once they got it in their minds we’d been romantically involved for longer than we had been they were relentless.”

Emma tried to hide her surprise at learning that nugget of information but with her hand in his he appeared to have felt it.  He grinned, his eyebrow raising in an unasked question.

“It’s just, uh, I thought that you guys were, um, high school sweethearts,” she meant to make it sound like a statement yet it came out like a question.

He laughed, a small but genuine thing, his free hand scratching at the back of his neck, “Our publicist spun it like that and we went along with it for interviews and such.  More romantic he liked to say.  Truth was even though we’d gone to the same secondary school she was in Liam and Robin’s year and I’d hardly spoken to her then.  It was only when they started playing together after they’d left that I got to know her.  She seemed so sophisticated and worldly to my scrawny teenage ass, even though she was only three years older than me and had never left our tiny village either.

“It wasn’t until during our first real tour that we gave into the attraction that’d been growing between us.  From then on it was like throwing a match at a puddle of petrol.  It was us against the crazy world we’d been thrust into and we thrived on it,” he said with a frown. “We partied a little too hard, fought a little too meanly, and were dependent on each other in ways I know now weren’t healthy.  I loved her deeply, I always will, and I know she loved me but sometimes I wonder if we would have made it had she lived.”

“I think…” Emma paused, wanting to get the words right and not completely destroy whatever it was that was growing between them at the same time, “You kinda seem like a guy that wouldn’t let something like that slip through your fingers.  The way you were talking about her just now?  I think you would have fought like hell to stay together.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said, ducking his head. “Liam would say the same thing when I voiced my doubts.  He’d been dead set against it at first and wasn’t too pleased with how we behaved most days but he always said he understood how much we loved each other.  Of course he also understood that we wrote some of our best songs once we got together.”

“Some of your best songs,” she said thoughtfully, drawn back to the reason she’d fled the stage, “You were right about Bite of Iron, you know.  When you suggested it I was trying to figure out why the set didn’t seem right.  The Boston crowd was so surprised when I started playing it.”

“It’s an exceptional song, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Do you know what it’s about?  I mean, you’ve obviously listened to it a lot since you knew it would work out.”

The tips of his ears tinged pink, “I’ve listened to it a time or two.  It’s a love song is it not?  Or rather, a love lost song?”

She snorted, only half in amusement, “Something like that.  Everyone knows that I’m an orphan and all that jazz, I’ve never hid it and Regina says that it’s my ‘thing’.  You know, the thing that makes me unique.”

“Bollocks, you make yourself unique,” Killian said heatedly, squeezing her hand in emphasis, “Your songwriting, your playing, everything about you sets you apart from the chaff.”

It was her turn to blush, “I mean, obviously, but, you know, it’s Regina.”

“Aye, she’s not one prone to mincing her words,” he scoffed.

“No, but she has my back and knows how to bury things.  Like how I went to juvie and had a baby.”

Her attempt at nonchalance fell flat as Killian stiffened beside her.  She steeled herself, ready for him to pull away from her both physically and emotionally.  While she absolutely believed he wouldn’t think less of her or go to the press with the information she had no idea what his reaction could be.

“Did you- was it-” he huffed out a breath through his nose, clearly frustrated.  A muscle in his jaw was ticking but when he looked at her his gaze was soft, “I’m sorry that happened to you, love.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.  Coming from anyone else she would have brushed it off as a platitude or pitying.  Killian sounded like he was the one who had caused it all and was apologizing for it.  She felt a glowing warmth expanding inside her, giving her the courage to continue.

“I didn’t do it, in case you were wondering.  I was young, stupid, and in love, not the greatest combination-” she deadpanned, shrugging one shoulder.  Taking a deep breath she forged on, “I had just turned seventeen and was on my own since I’d had the bright idea of running away from the Nolan’s.  I don’t even remember why now, probably some fucking teenage angst or something.  Doesn’t matter.  So I met this guy, Neal.  And he was older and knew how to survive on the streets and he got me.  Just… understood all the shit I’d gone through with the whole orphan thing and didn’t judge me for it.  We had this whole outlaw life, living in the back of this car I’m pretty sure was stolen, sneaking into motel rooms when people checked out for a few hours, and stealing but only food.  Well, I thought it was only the food.

“A few months after we got together he comes up to me in a panic, telling me how the cops are after him because of some watches he’d stolen and left at the bus depot and how he’s gotta go to Canada and I couldn’t go with him-” she gave Killian a rueful smile, “You probably know how well that went over.”

“Like a lead balloon I’m guessing,” he murmured with a somewhat pained chuckle.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “So I come up with this brilliant plan, yeah?  Why don’t I go get the watches?  Prove to him that he needed me and obviously the cops wouldn’t be looking for a teenage girl, right?  He just lit up when I told him, said I was a genius and gave me the key to the locker he’d stashed the watches in.  It worked, I got those damn watches.

“When I got back to where Neal was hiding out he gave me some song and dance about fencing the watches to get the money we need to go to Canada.  How I couldn’t go with him because the guy he had to deal with doesn’t like strangers or whatever.  Before he leaves, though, he gives me one of the watches, a giant clunky thing covered in diamonds that was worth a hell of a lot more than anything I had ever owned in my life.  He tells me-” she scoffs and scowls at the memory, “tells me he doesn’t want me to be late for when we were supposed to meet back up.  I swallowed every word, spent the whole day dreaming up all sorts of plans of what our life was going to be like in Canada while I waited for it to be the time we’d agreed on.  I wasn’t late but neither were the cops who’d been tipped off that I’d be there holding stolen property.  The fucking, lying, sneaky asshole had left a couple of the watches in my backpack along with the one he’d put on my wrist.  Got a year in juvie for being his goddamn scapegoat.”

“But you were innocent,” Killian spluttered, moving to stand until she grabbed his arm and forced him to stay next to her.

“Which is part of the reason why I went to juvie instead of prison,” she said calmly, even though she was amazed he was indignant on her behalf. “They couldn’t prove I had anything to do with actually stealing the watches, just that I had some of them on me.  The other part was being closer to seventeen than eighteen.  Another month older and I think they would have tried me as an adult.”

“They caught him at least?  This Neal?” Killian spat out the name, his lips curling back in disdain.

“I don’t know and I don’t really care anymore,” she answered honestly.

He nodded as if it made sense before lowering his eyes and asking hesitantly, “And the… erm… the babe?”

She sighed and felt as if she had dredged it up from deep in her soul.  Her hand was still on Killian’s arm and he placed his other on hers, squeezing her fingers gently.  Somehow she knew if she said she didn’t want to talk about it he’d understand and wouldn’t push and that more than anything gave her the courage to keep going.

“I found out I was pregnant about a month into my sentence and the first person to congratulate me was a guard passing by my cell.  I think that more than anything made me realize how much I’d fucked up.  The next time I had phone privileges I called Mary Margaret and David.  Back then I told myself that it was because they were the only number I had memorized but I think deep down I knew they wouldn’t judge me or just brush me off as a runaway they had no obligation to help anymore.  Mary Margaret took the next flight out to Phoenix and David came a few days later.  It was the first time I’d ever felt really, truly loved.  They could only stay for a week but we became a family in that week.”

She could feel her throat tightening but kept talking, “The Nolans were there for me the whole time, as much as they could be with their jobs and the group home.  They even said they would help me raise the baby, if that’s what I wanted.  I couldn’t do it though, I wasn’t ready to be a mom.”

“Swan-”

“Did you know that they handcuff you to the bed when you’re in custody of the state and in labor?” She plowed on, determined to finish, “Like I’d make a run for it while a human being came tearing out of me.  The cuffs were steel but it doesn’t sound as poetic.  I didn’t even hold him.  I knew I wouldn’t let him go if I did.”

She had managed to keep the tears that had gathered in her eyes from falling until that moment.  It was something she’d only admitted once before, to Mary Margaret on her son’s first birthday.  Before she could think to wipe the tears away Killian was doing so with a warm and gentle touch.

“You’re incredibly brave, Emma, did you know that?” He asked, his voice full of awe.

“I wasn’t ready to be a mom,” she repeated shakily, “I knew that giving him up was the best thing for the both of us.”

“Would you want to find him?  Now?”

She shook her head before his questions were finished, “I already did, or a private investigator did.  He’s happy with his adopted family, he’s got a brother and friends and a good life.  He doesn’t need me coming in and making a mess of it.”

“You wouldn’t make a mess of it,” Killian said vehemently.

“Yeah, I would,” she said patiently.  She gave him a sad smile, “Let’s for a second forget the fact that we’re sitting on the roof of a venue that in six hours will have forty-five hundred people waiting to hear me play.  Just the fact that his birth mom would come out of nowhere and decide to insert herself into his life is bad enough.  With all this shit on top of it?  No, he’s happy and that’s all I need to know.  If someday he decides to find me then I’ll be ready to be a part of his life, but only when he’s ready not before.

“Anyway-” she plowed on, “playing Bite of Iron brings all that shit up again.  It’s why I’ve never put it in the lineup before.”

“And then my ignorant ass goes and pushes you to do just that,” Killian spat out bitterly.

He pulled his arm out from under hers but she immediately grabbed his hand, unwilling to part with the comfort his touch had given her.

“It was more like a gentle nudge,” she said teasingly, glad to see his mouth tick up for a moment in amusement.  She sobered, “I wouldn’t have put it in if I didn’t want to play it.  It’s been eleven years and I can’t heal or whatever if I keep it all bottled up inside.  It actually hasn’t been that bad, playing it every night, today was just… a little too much with the constant interruptions and then having to half play it over and over.”

“Well, your diva fit was well justified, I’d say.”

She surprised herself with a burst of laughter.  Killian was clearly trying to lighten the mood, she could still see tension in the way he held his shoulders and the slight furrow of his brow, but he was making the effort for her.  The glowing warmth from earlier expanded and morphed into butterflies.  Leaning into him she pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, for helping me escape.”

Killian looked dumbfounded, his mouth dropped open in surprise.  She grinned at his stupor.  Rising to her feet she felt like she could play Bite of Iron twenty times in a row if he was the one listening, watching her with that same soft look on his face.  Just as she was about to say as much or something even more ridiculously sappy the door leading to the roof opened.

“Oh, thank God, you are up here!” Tink breathed out as soon as she caught sight of them, sounding immensely relieved. “Regina’s either going to murder you or make you pay out of pocket for the time she says you’ve wasted.  Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

“I-” Emma patted her back pocket and winced when she hit nothing but her ass, “Shit, I think I left it on the piano.”

“Do not tell Regina that,” Tink said horrified. “Tell her it died or spontaneously combusted or whatever, anything that will keep her from blowing another gasket.  She’s already muttering about breach of contract.”

“It’s only a breach of contract if I don’t play tonight, not the goddamn soundcheck from hell,” she rolled her eyes.

Killian stood and Emma winced again as Tink’s eyes widened as she noticed him.  Tink turned her bewildered gaze to her and Emma knew she would be facing a full inquisition at some point.  Not wanting to give away anything more than she already had she avoided both Tink and Killian’s gazes as she marched to the door.

“Come on, let’s get Regina’s tantrum and the rest of soundcheck out of the way and then go find some deep dish pizza.  My treat.”

As she stepped back into the air conditioned stairwell she breathed a sigh of relief that Tink had interrupted them when she did.  She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for whatever leap she’d just taken when it came to Killian.  She also wasn’t entirely sure she shouldn’t have leaped further.

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (two)

Summary: After being ghosted by YN, a girl he turned out really liking, Steve goes to her door to find out just what he did wrong.

Warnings: pregnancy test stress, gross food cravings, NatBucky fluff, stressed!Steve

Songs: “Archer”- Taylor Swift

Masterlist

____________________________

November 14th / 2nd Week

YN YLN felt like someone came down from heaven and took a shit on her face. She had felt wonderful since Steve had been over up until now, and she groaned, burying her face into her pillow and trying t find any lingering scents of Steve on her pillow. She made a noise in the back of her throat when she found nothing but the scent of her own shampoo. She reached over to her phone under her pillow and looked at it, a thrill shooting through her body when she saw that she had a text from none other than the Retired Captain America. 

From: Grandpa

Morning, pretty thing :)

The dork hadn’t sent her one single emoji, and she doubted that if he even knew what they were that he would like them. ‘too kiddish’, she could hear him say and she kicked her feet like a teenager. 

To: Grandpa

Morning, handsome! How was ur morning so far??

She locked her phone and checked the date on the lockscreen, squinting at the number suspiciously. There was something supposed to be happening right now. Today was a Thursday, so she had it off, but there was something else personally. 

Her eyes widened, and every nerve in her body felt as if it had been dipped in ice water. 

She was supposed to have gotten her period eight whole days ago. 

She ripped her blankets off of her, and pulled her pants down, groaning when there was no blood to be found and cursing to herself. She had always been regular with her cycle. She tracked it, and took vitamins and magnesium and iron supplements and even went sustainable with it— got a diva cup and everything. Sure, her period sucked but it was usually one thing that she could count on to be on time. 

She rushed to the bathroom to splash water on her face and wracked her brain to try to remember if she and Steve had used protection. They had in the morning, she knew— she made sure to roll the condom on herself and everything but the night before was so quick and hurried and oh, God. No. No they had not used protection. 

Fuck. 

“MICHAELA!” She screamed, walking quickly out to the kitchen where her best friend and roommate was, hunched over some law books and eating her smoothie bowl breakfast. YN didn’t even bother teasing her about it and met Michaela’s surprised eyes with her own very, very scared ones. 

“What? Are you bleeding out? What the fuck?” She yelled back, clutching her heart while moving to mop up the glass of water she spilled across the island. 

“No I’m— okay, so you know the guy I had over on Halloween that I told you about?” She started and Michaela nodded nervously. 

“Magic Dick Steve? I remember.”

“Well I don’t think— I don’t think we used protection? The first time? We were both pretty drunk and—“ YN had started to shake. “And I might be reading into it too much but I’ve been really tired lately and my boobs are really, really sore and I’ve been really nauseous? Maybe It’s the flu but I’ve— my period it late.” She finished, and watched as Michaela’s eyes widened. 

“You’re never late.” She whispered, and YN felt tears well up in her eyes. 

“I know.” She mumbled and Michaela stood, walking around the counter and pulling her to her. She hugged her tightly and pulled away, dragging YN down the hallway and back to the bathroom. 

“I didn’t tell you this, but a few months ago when you were in Peru with that Anthropology dig, me and Charlie had a scare and I got a whole bunch of these guys.” She held up a box of thin, paper pregnancy tests from the bottom cabinet. 

“Isn’t that when you went off your pill?” She asked, taking the box. Michaela nodded. 

“Yeah, turns out my body freaked out hugely and said ‘fuck you’ to my period that month.” She shrugged. “Take a few, and we’ll take it from here, okay?”

________________________

So, YN peed in a disposable mouthwash cup (and on her hand a little bit, but we won’t talk about that) and dipped three tests into it, laying it out on the edge of the tub and sliding down he closed door after setting a timer on her phone. Time seemed to become impossibly slow for three whole minutes and she jolted violently when her phone went off. She checked it, and tears welled up in her eyes when she saw that she had gotten a text from Steve. 

From: Grandpa

I’m pretty good. miss you though.

She put her phone back down and stood, opening the door and calling shakily from Michaela. She showed up seconds later, and wiped YN’s tears from her face. 

“I can’t— I can’t look.” She whimpered and Michaela shushed her softly. 

“You can.” Her voice acted as an anchor for which YN could ground herself with and she tried to move her feet towards the tests. 

“What do I do with Steve? I can’t— it would trap him. I don’t even know the guy. I can’t just drop a bomb like that on him when we haven’t even gone on a date yet.” She cried and Michaela frowned, her heart breaking for her friend. 

“From what you’ve told me, he’ll be there for you. He seems like a good guy. Now, let’s look, okay?”

YN nodded and with the help of Michaela, walked across the bathroom and ducked down to see if there was anything other than the first red line. She squinted, and let out a huge breath when there was no line on the first two tests. She checked the last one, and every organ in YN’s body burst into flames when she thought she could see a second, very faint line. 

“Michaela.”

“What.”

“Is that a second line? On the last test.” She whispered, as if raising her voice any louder was going to make the line darker. Michaela leaned in close and squinted, freezing when she did, in fact, see the second line. 

“I think so. I think it is.” She confirmed, and YN’s knees gave out. Her hand absently fell to her lower stomach and she lower lip trembled. 

“This may not be it, though okay? Let’s go to Planned Parenthood and get a real test, okay? Then we can spend thirty dollars on a really good test and we’ll make a plan from there, okay?” Michaela sunk other knees and held YN’s face, wiping more tears away and offering her a small smile. 

“Okay.”

_______________________

There was no way that all ten tests in front of her were wrong. There was no way the printed diagnosis from Planned Parenthood and a pamphlet reading ‘Plans For The Single Parent’ were telling her that her uterus was empty. There was no way the Clearblue test reading ‘Pregnant: 2-3 weeks’ was wrong— it better not be, considering it was a whole thirty dollars. 

YN sat staring at them, bouncing her leg and glancing at her phone every few seconds, half expecting for Steve to already know despite his three unresponded-to-texts still on her lock screen. She could hear Michaela talking to her boyfriend, Charlie in the other room and YN felt truly and utterly alone.

However, her hand had yet to leave her stomach during the whole day, as if the idea of a baby being in there (despite it being no more than a bunch of cells at this point) was a point fo focus for her. Despite the overwhelming elements fo her situation, there was a flutter of excitement in her chest. She had never wanted kids, and then the snap happened, and she was gone and then she was back, and her dad, who was in a plane during the snap had fallen from 5 miles in sky and landed belly first in the ocean. But now that it was a very real possibility, she couldn’t help but get a little excited. 

There was one one person she truly wanted to talk to, right now. The urge to hear their voice overpowered any other feeling and YN reached for her phone, choosing the first contact she recently texted and waited as the phone rang. 

“Hello?”

“Mom? I need your help.”

_______________________

November 31st, 4th Week

“This is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Why are you making this monstrosity in my house?” Michaela groaned, pulling the neck of her turtleneck sweater over her nose as she walked into the kitchen. YN rolled her eyes and shook her head, bouncing lightly to the music playing from her laptop. 

“Just because you’re the pickiest human in the world doesn’t mean other people can’t eat fun foods,” YN replied, lifting the lid on the stove and sniffing deeply. 

“Canned crab with sauerkraut on crackers is not a fun food.” Michaela grumbled and sat at the counter. YN rolled her eyes and stirred the pot, shrugging her shoulders. 

“What baby wants baby gets.” She replied simply and closed the lid, leaning against the counter beside the stove and cocking her head. “Would you prefer boiled clams in hot sauce  or crushed up Doritos dipped in a Starbucks Frappuccino to this or—?” YN trailed off and Michaela gagged openly, covering her mouth. 

“Maybe a salad. With nutrients that the baby needs.” She replied and YN rolled her eyes, opening the cabinet beside the fridge and turning around to stare at Michaela. Her eyes raked over the prenatal supplements and vitamins marked for different days of the weeks and then to the daily pill organizer in YN’s hand. 

“I’ve also cut my coffee from five cups to half a cup because I’m paranoid and I’m not eating dairy, which is hard because you know how much I loved pineapple and cottage cheese together. And this is the only meal I’ve been able to eat this week without getting nauseous and throwing up.” She commented, turning back and turning off the stove. Michaela walked over and leaned over the pot, wrinkling her nose but grabbing a spoon nonetheless. 

“I’m going to try it. Not because I’m curious but because I’m supporting my single-pregnant best friend.” She said, saying a little prayer and shoving the goopy mess into her mouth. She froze, chewed once and gagged, grabbing YN’s hand and spitting the mouthful of food into her hand. 

“I hate you.” She grumbled and stuck her head under the sink, rinsing her mouth and making her laugh loudly, clutching her chest. It was only seconds after that there was a knock on their door which YN made to get. She turned to her friend and pointed. 

“I made you do nothing. That was fully consensual on your part.” She laughed, spinning and opening the door with a smile. 

It was Steve. Holding a bouquet of her second favourite flowers. Smiling nervously with those blue eyes and big muscles and beard and short, carefully styled hair. She remembered in flashes the sound he made when he moaned. The sound he made when she made him laugh. The way he looked sucking whipped cream off her finger. The way his voice sounded that one time when they talked until five in the morning. 

So, she did what any sensible person did and slammed the door in his face. 

At the sound, Michaela walked around the corner, peeking behind YN to see that the door was still closed. There was a knock and Steve’s voice saying something YN couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in her ears. 

“Who is it?” Michaela whispered, seeing the fear in her eyes. 

“Steve.” YN replied, her mouth feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton. Michaela pushed past her and looked through the peep hole, ducking immediately and turning to her with wide eyes. 

“That’s Steve?! You fucked Captain America on our kitchen counter and then hand fed him waffles?” Michaela whisper-yelled. 

“First off, he’s not Captain America anymore. Sam Wilson is, and second yes. Steve isn’t really an uncommon name so..” YN trailed off uselessly and Michaela looked to YN’s stomach. 

“Well I mean it makes sense,” Michaela said quickly. “All of your symptoms are stronger and you only had sex once without protection so it makes sense he has super sperm.” He said and YN shushed her as if Steve was on the other side with his ear to the door. 

“What do I do.” YN deadpanned and Michaela bit her lip. 

“You know what I think you should do. I think it’s time to tell him.” She said and YN nodded, wiping her hands on her pants and walking to the door, hesitating briefly before turning the doorknob and opening it. 

“YN. Hi.” He seemed breathless, and he looked at her softly. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I should have texted, but you weren’t responding and I got worried.”

YN shook her head and opened the door wider. “Steve, I think you should come in. We need to talk.” She whispered, and his shoulders fell as if he was expecting her to say something like this. 

“I figured.” He mumbled, handing Michaela the flowers and following YN to the living room where she pulled a shoe box from the shelf under the table and placed it on the top. 

“What’s going on, YN? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, turning towards her. She sat straight, not taking her eyes off the box in front of her and shaking her head. 

“You’ve been perfect Steve, and none of this is your fault, I should have been more responsible.” She whispered, her throat thick. She could hear Michaela eavesdropping from the kitchen. 

“Then what—?” He trailed off and went to touch her, but pulled away at the last second, not wanting to upset her further. 

“Something happened and I don’t— I don’t know what to do.” She said, finally looking at him with shining eyes. His face crumpled at the sight of her tears and h scooted closer to her, grabbing her hand gently. 

“I can help, YN. Whatever it is I can help you.” He said softly, holding her hand in both of his own. 

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Steve. Not with this— we hardly know each other.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She noticed briefly how good Steve looked in his brown coat and jeans and scarf and boots but shook her head when her periphery caught sight of the box on the table. 

“YN.” He said sternly and she melted slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“I’m pregnant, Steve. The baby is yours— it has to be. There hasn’t been anyone since the snap except for you.” She finally said in one quick breath, she looked up at him to gauge his reaction. His face was a flat of marble, no expression or emotion in his eye. She half expected him to stand up and walk out until she remembered that this was, in fact, Steve Rogers and walking away from a challenge was unheard of. That’s what the textbooks said, anyways. She lifted the cover on the box and he peered in, eyes widening when he saw all the tests and pamphlets she had been reading and collecting. 

“Okay.” He said finally and he seems to be wracking his brain for something to say. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Were you just going to wait until you had him to tell me and collect money or something?” He asked. YN raised her eyebrows and shook her head fervently. 

“No, no, no, no, Steve. I would never. I just didn’t— I don’t— know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, reassuring her by his tightened grip on her hand. 

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you and what you would want to do with her.” She said and he raised his eyebrows. 

“It’s a girl?” He whispered, looking down to her stomach. She shook her head. 

“No, she’s nothing more than a bunch of cells, but ‘she’ just comes naturally to me? You said she was a ‘he’ earlier, so.” She smiled softly and he returned it, not looking away from her stomach. 

“Well, what are the options?” He asked, looking up at her and she shook her head. 

“One, I keep her and you leave.” She started and he looked genuinely affronted. 

“Not a chance. Next.”

“I go to Planned Parenthood—“

“No. Next.”

“I keep her, and you stay.” She whispered, looking up at him nervously. He froze, but nodded surely and cleared his throat. When he spoke he sounded rather choked and it made tears return o her eyes. 

“That’s an option for you?” He whispered and she nodded. 

“It’s my ideal option, Steve. This is your baby too.” She replied, equally quiet. He looked up and pulled her closer to him and she let it happen. Now, their thighs were pressed against the other and their heads were closer together. 

“You move into my place, though. I’ll get rid of my office so we can make it into a nursery and I keep work at work and family at home. I’d like to know you’re both safe.” He said, jumping to what he wanted to happen. She nodded. 

“That’s petty reasonable.” She commented. “I don’t have much, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.” 

“Your turn. Name a demand.” He returned and she wracked her brain. 

“I want to go part-time at work, but I won’t if we can’t afford it.” She said. Thinking about the cost of things came naturally to her since she had grown up in the Bronx.

“Babe.” He whispered, amused and smiling. 

“What?” She whispered back, smiling as well. 

“I have about 100 years of government compensation in my bank account. Plus I was a Stark Employee and an Avenger for twelve years. Money isn’t an issue, I promise.” He explained, and she nodded. The relief that had washed over her then was overwhelming and she coughed into her fist, a sob building in her throat. 

“Sorry,” She choked, rubbing her eyes. “This happens a lot.” 

“It does!” They heard a voice from the kitchen and YN glared a the door. 

“Fuck you, Michaela!”

“Promise?” She called back and Steve smiled, chuckling lowly. 

“Your turn.” She said, nudging him. He sucked in a breath and thought hard. 

“I’m at all the appointments. I’m at all the classes. We don’t announce it to the public, but we don’t hide the fact that you’re pregnant. I’ll have to talk to Pepper soon, but only when you’re ready. I want to be in this with you. The whole ride.” He said and YN blinked more tears out of her eyes. He pulled his jacket off and pulled his sweater sleeve over his fist and wiped them from her face gently. She sucked in a breath and leaned into his touch slightly, not fighting it when he pulled away from her. 

“Good.” There was a pause of silence before he shifted nervously, a new idea popping into his head. “What?” She asked. 

“This is gonna be a little extreme, actually.” He sounded afraid, but she nodded for him to continue despite her own nerves rising. “I’ve been learning that it’s okay to have kids with your boyfriend or girlfriend now, and that’s really great and cool but it doesn’t work for me.” He said and she looked up at him, alarmed. 

“What?”

“We don’t have to, but my Ma would roll in her grave if she found out I had a kid with someone that I wasn’t uh— legally bound to.” He winced at the formality of his own words. 

“I don’t think I understand,” She said. She did, she just didn’t quite believe what exactly he was asking her. 

“I would like to marry you. It’s really important for me that my kid is uh— mine. And was born into a marriage, you know?” Steve’s voice seemed far away as he continued to speak, and YN swayed in her seat. 

“YN?” He asked, watching her eyes become unfocussed and falling for Michaela. She heard nothing more before her eyes closed and she slumped back on the couch, unconscious. 

________________________

The first thing YN remembered when she woke up was a cool cloth being pressed to her forehead. She sighed at the sensation, rolling her head away from the glaring light from the window and opened her eyes, smiling as Michaela looked down at her. 

“Hey, Mich. I had the weirdest dream.” She started, groaning a the pounding headache in her brain and sitting up slowly. “Remember Steve? Magic Dick Steve? Yeah. That’s Steve Rogers. Anyways, I had a dream that I was pregnant with his kid and he asked me to marry him. He was wearing his suit, though which as weird because I couldn’t see his face behind his helmet-hat-thing.” She mumbled, rubbing her forehead. 

“That wasn’t a dream, YN.” Said a low voice from the kitchen. YN looked over and her eyes widened when she saw Steve Rogers walk through the door, a plate of crackers and crab and sauerkraut in his hands. There was also a reusable mouthwash cup filled with her medication and a bottle of water in his other hand. 

“Holy Moses, baby Jesus in the garden be with me.” YN prayed briefly and accepted the plate of food from him, piling it into her mouth much to the amusement of Steve and the disgust of Michaela. 

“It’s the same thing my ma used to crave, actually.” Steve shrugged. “I tried to make it one time back in the day for mothers day but the only fish I could afford was the crawdaddies from the pond down the street and the crackers I stole from Bucky’s house. I couldn’t even use the stove, yet so everything was raw.” He smiled when she laughed loudly at his story. “Yeah, she wasn’t too big of a fan but she appreciated it all the same.” 

“That’s really cute, Rogers.” She smiled.

“I’m sorry for dropping that request on you, I never meant to hurt you.” He muttered eventually and she shook her head.

“I’ve actually fainted twice already so it isn’t too much of a big deal, but yeah. That was a good request.” She scratched her nose and took all the pills at once, gulping down half the bottle with it and leaning on her elbows. 

“I’m sorry again.” He whispered and she shook her head. 

“It’s your kid, Steve. It only makes sense you would want that for her.”

“Him.” He teased and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll do it.” She said finally and his head whipped over to her as fast as lightning. She was half worried that she would need to take him to the hospital incase he tore something. 

“What?”

“I’ll marry you. I think you’re a pretty great guy, Steve and I’m not getting any younger, anyways.” She shrugged and Michaela gaped at them like a fish. 

“You’re 24, YN.” She scolded and she looked at her friend. 

“And my baby daddy wants to stick around and support us. It’s only fair I do this for him.” She shrugged, looking between their stunned faces.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, aghast and shocked but looking sedately overjoyed. 

“As sure as I’ll ever be, Rogers.” She stuck out her hand and he looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “You take care of me and your kid and I marry you? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.” She commented and he took her hand in his. 

“It’s a deal, then.” He smiled softly and tried his damned best to not jump across the couch and kiss her. This was never how he wanted to propose to someone, but hey, he was 106. Never a time like the present, right?

“Damn it.” Michaela swore. The newly-engaged couple looked over at her and she shook her head at both of them. “I’m gonna have to find a craigslist roommate aren’t I?”

_____________________

Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose /  laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot / vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema

[puppypeter]

You know when you trip over a small drabble and end up disappearing from your blog down a Evanstan rabbit hole? Yep, that’s what happened here, so enjoy some fics!! Some are more silly/lighthearted, some are a bit more angsty, so remember to read the tags before to check if it’s your thing!

There will definitely be a second part cause I’m still stuck down here, so keep an eye out if you like the pairing 🥰

🔒 = you need an ao3 account to be able to read it.

PS: do not link any of these fics to the actors or anyone associated with them. Fics are from the fans for the fans, and they should stay within the fandom!

Happy reading! 🐶

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In hindsight, Chris can see the error in not pausing after knocking on Seb’s bedroom door and just barging in without waiting for permission to come in. Rookie mistake. As it is, he raps his knuckles on the wood three times, then pushes down the handle and swings open the door with a “Seb, are you ready to go?”

I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done (but I haven’t stopped loving you once) | Explicit | 59208 words 💗

After the release of Infinity War, Chris and Sebastian each take some time off to recharge. Chris is staying in Scarlett’s lake cabin on his own and invites Sebastian up to come and spend some time with him. Due to busy work schedules and a number of other, more personal reasons, Chris and Seb haven't been as close lately, something which neither of them are very happy about. This mini-vacation presents a chance for them to revive their friendship and maybe (definitely) explore if there might be something more. Over the course of a week, and with a little help from meddling friends and co-stars, the boys learn to build bridges, to be vulnerable and take chances, and to stop letting fear rule their lives.

We’ll figure it out | Mature | 2983 words

Of course Chris had thought about it. His brother’s gay, for fuck’s sake. So yeah, growing up, he’d wondered, and experimented a bit with a few guys in the industry. Mutually assured destruction helped confer a certain sense of security for both parties involved. All things considered, he’s been pretty fucking lucky, there are no rumors about him, and since he’s mostly attracted to women, it’s not something he really has to worry about.

Sebastian, though… There’s a reason comments about Seb’s jawline come so easily to Chris.

I Wanna Be Yours | Explicit | 7309 words

A few times, Sebastian catches him staring, and gives him an odd look.

“You okay, Chris?” he asks, the third time it happens.

Despite the fact that he’s an actor, Chris knows he tends to be a bad liar and wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he prays Sebastian will buy his white lie just this once.

“Fine, yeah fine,” Chris assures him. “Just a little tired, I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

Sebastian gives him a sympathetic smile, and Chris feels like the worst kind of scum.

Kiss The Boy | General Audiences | 1410 words

Sebastian once did an interview where he admitted he tried picking up girls with his rendition of ‘Under the Sea’ from the Little Mermaid. Here's what happened when he tries it on Chris.

No Longer a Place | General Audiences | 4645 words

The ups and downs of Hollywood relationships, with a side of Chris taking care of Sebastian.

This Is Awkward | Mature | 3185 words

While filming the final helicarrier scene of CA:TWS, Sebastian has to mount Chris for the perfect shot, and he gets... excited.

You Are My Sweetest Downfall | Teen & Up | 448 words

prompt: imagine sebastian crying a little after the first time he has sex with chris because he’s so happy

or: Where Chris is a cutie pie and Sebastian does what he does best: cry.

Stars Out Of The Blue | Teen & Up | 6355 words

Chris Evans accidentally kicks Sebastian Stan off a broken helicarrier set on Monday afternoon. It’s the worst moment of his life. Monday evening, however, contains the best moment. Indisputably. Ever.

My broken veins say that if my heart stops beating | Explicit | 4606 words

The one where sebastian and chris get high and chris gets curious and sebastian ends up three fingers deep in him.

All That You’re Making Of Me | Explicit | 37219 words

The unfolding of a relationship, over time. And a perfect happy ending.

All I wanna see you in is just skin | Explicit | 2852 words

Sebastian really wants Chris to be his Daddy. Especially after seeing him with that beard.

With You and the F**king Lines | Mature | 638 words 🔒

What not to do when in bed with your co-star: 1) Don't quote their role. 2) Don't quote your role. 3) If 1 & 2 don't apply for the circumstances, quote a good line.

What to do when your co-star quote your role in bed: 1) No sex for them in the foreseeable future. 2) If 1 is too hard. Quote them back. Payback's a bitch, man.

The Words We Put Together | Not Rated | 2702 words

Sebastian and Chris meet again after two years. Let the story drift you into happiness.

I’ve never seen anything quite like you | Mature | 5416 words 🔒

He texts his brother: do guys go on dates with guys Scott texts back: you are the dumbest shit alive

Only I Would Know | Mature | 2673 words

Chris brings up the idea of having kids.

Sebastian's intimidated by the idea. Just a little.

A Faity-Tale, A Fancy-Flight | Teen & Up | 2429 words

Sebastian shouldn’t have to be alone on his birthday. Chris comes over with Starbucks and first kisses.

The next 9 works all belong to the You Make Me Love You series:

Make Me | Explicit | 4403 words

After a fight Chris and Sebastian come back to each other.

My Heart, My Home, My Everything | Explicit | 26709 words

Chris and Sebastian come out to their families, and then the world.

So It Begins | Explicit | 12673 words

Chris and Sebastian take the first step in wedding planning, finding a venue for their big day.

Endless Love | Teen & Up | 17316 words

Chris and Sebastian's wedding day is here, but that's just the beginning.

Newlyweds | Explicit | 5374 words

Chris and Sebastian enjoying life as a newly married couple.

Luca (One Shots) | Teen & Up | 23444 words #WIP

Stories following Chris and Sebastian as first-time parents. It's Luca's world, his dad's are just living in it.

Baby Mine (Everything) | Explicit | 12966 words

Chris and Sebastian go to the Endgame premiere, they plan to make a night of it, this is their first night out since their son came home. Things don't exactly go as planned.

Luca 14 Months: TIFF 2019 | Mature | 20571 words #WIP

Luca comes with his dads to TIFF 2019 and steals the show.

Coming Home: Luca 20 Months  (The Evanstan Quarantine Fic) | Explicit | 8821 words

Sebastian comes home after months away due to his job and complications involving travel restrictions. Finally the family can be together during quarantine.

Picture source: (x)

[peeterparkr]

limits of desire⤳t.h.||2

chapter two: make a guest list

MADE OF HONOR|AU

So, after that photoshoot, I decided to get back on my shit. I’m re-uploading it, editing it and changing a few things. Yes, I’ve posted this fic before but I feel like I’ve grown as a writer and it’s a fic with so much more potential.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the graduation, and with Tom and Y/N knowing they both have thought about it. 

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: alcohol , swearing, graduation

word count: 6k (wow)

As usual tell me what you think

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series masterlist

4 years later. 

Tom’s phone was vibrating as the Spider-Man ringtone was playing. He tried to open his eyes but was too tired, he rubbed them as he tried to get off the woman that was kindly resting of his bare chest. Her hair was falling down on his shoulders and her fingers were caressing his arm. She moved while Tom, midst yawns, turned off his alarm. 

He opened his eyes and looked at the time. 

“Shit!” He quickly hopped off the bed letting the girl fall flat on the white blankets. He kept cursing under his breath while putting on his pants. “Hmm, where are you going?” The just awoken girl asked, confused by the lack of warmth she was faced with. She covered herself and reached out for his hand, impeding him from putting on his shirt and pulling him back beside her. She danced her fingers over his chest from behind, causing a paused laughter from Tom. 

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “I’m leaving.” “Just like that?” She asked. “So soon?” “Yep.”  “Oh, I thought we were gonna grab breakfast and arrive together,” she complained and then placed a kiss on his shoulder. “Please sweetheart, I’ve got more important things to do,” he admitted. “And we both know that your boyfriend won’t be happy. Neither won’t y/n.” “What if I call you later?” She offered. “We could hang out after it.” “You perfectly know I won’t answer, no back-to-back’s, remember? besides, what for? We both got what we wanted, already.” Tom pushed her arms away, turning around to wink at her. “I guess I don’t have to say this anymore, right? the whole congratulations! You’ve slept with a celebrity,” he rolled his eyes as he put on his shirt. “But-” Before she could say anything, he walked back to place a finger over her lips. “Tom.” “No buts, I’m leaving, Rach,” he leaned over to kiss her but she frowned, pushing his face away. 

“You’re an ass,” she stated. 

Tom chuckled, “Good thing you were really into mine, last night, huh?” Tom shrugged while he picked up his stuff. “Get out.” “And what do you think I’m doing, darling?” Tom walked out of her room and headed to the kitchen. He opened up the fridge and got out a juice box, he didn’t even care about pulling out a glass as he drank it straight from the box. “What do you think you’re doing?” Rachel asked him. “I’m thirsty, you know, I thought I told you you should buy the organic one instead, tastes better, next time I guess,” Tom answered with poor elegance as he handed the box back, now empty, while saluting with his two fingers, walking to the door. “Buy-bye, I hope we can do this again. See you later.” The girl screamed, kicked and slapped the door shut right behind him. “Guess not.” Tom let out a little cynical snicker while getting out. It could have been worse, he didn’t care, he knew he could call her up in a week or two and she’d answer. Tom called Harrison. “Hey, man, need a favour, would you please go and pick up the flowers I ordered? K. Cool, thanks, see ya there, can’t run late.” 

“You’re already late,” Harrison had stated before hanging up. Tom quickly hopped into his motorcycle while heading home. He had little time for what came next and he needed to look impeccable. He was riding through the busy and crowded streets of London, dedicating smiles to whoever recognized him. Gosh, even if he was wearing whatever he was wearing the day before, he looked so damn good. His ‘walk of shame’ made everyone else’s more shameful than they already were. 

Thing was, he knew it. He was perfectly aware that his Bad Boy appearance wasn’t strong enough to outshine his good and innocent boy facade. But at the same time, it gave everyone a chance to use their imagination and just try to figure him out. Only the people surrounding him knew he was indeed, the best friend they could ask for, they figured he was a good lover, too, but never someone to even try to get into a relationship with, that just wouldn’t work out. But people couldn’t stop thinking about it, because he was oh, so dreamy! His charming and innocent attitude quickly would outgrow anything bad. He already had all the attention he needed, but of course, he was hungry for more. Hence the motorbike, it added just the right amount of rebellion, to the new James Dean vibe he was trying to pull. 

He was late, so late. However, his stomach couldn’t stop growling and his eyes were closing. He stopped at a Starbucks. Clearly, he was diverting every single glance while arriving. He had the complete look, the leather jacket, ripped jeans and the boots. A whole snack, if it’s correct to call him that. It suited him. He picked up his helmet strutting to the entrance, even the baristas were left in shock breathless. The sweet redhead barista sketched him a flirty smile, while she scribbled Tom’s name on his cup. “Is it okay if I write Spider-Man instead of Tom?” She asked with a chuckle. 

Tom only winked at her while letting his hand run through his hair. “Whatever you wish for, darling.” The endearing pet name that would cause them all to fall flat to his feet. The power it held should be illegal. Darling. He knew it worked, because the undeniable line of girls that would ask him to say it only proved that it was his biggest weapon. 

He took a sip of his coffee while he read his name, kindly accompanied by a phone number. What a surprise. “See you around, Gloria,” Tom said with a wink. 

He drank his coffee, as some other girls approached him to take a picture with him, he knew they had taken pictures of him from afar. And there he left again, of course not forgetting to write down the girl’s number on his phone. He’d text her, sometime, maybe in 3 days. But he went back home, took a hot shower and put on the all suit he had chosen like a month before. His hair was perfectly brushed, and he had showered himself with lotion, he looked handsome and neat, he thought. 

He stopped in front of the mirror, doubting just for a second if it was right how he wanted to look, he changed the jacket for his own brown leather jacket. That was better, he snapped a picture, he liked the man looking back at the mirror. He doubted if it was too much. Ah, it didn’t matter. When it came to her, it didn’t matter. 

Tom arrived, just a tad late, of course, but he knew that he’d be the centre of attention, and that was all he wanted. That was, clearly, before he realized how awkward walking through the already sitting crowd would be. He finally found Harrison, who had saved him a seat. He had arrived just in time, ish. The ceremony had already started, but he had missed the boring parts, so it was good. 

“Where were you?” Haz murmured angrily, as soon as Tom sat beside him. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Tom defended himself as Haz gave him the bouquet of flowers he had asked for. “Where is she?”  “Shh, she’ll be out, easy,” Haz said. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” 

“Me neither,” Tom admitted. 

Haz stared at Tom, and smelled him. “Someone showered in Gucci instead of water,” he mocked. “One might only wonder why.” 

Tom nudged and shushed him. “And now our first class graduates, graduating with honours from the Bachelor of Journalism,” the man on the microphone spoke. Tom smirked as he got out his phone to take pictures. Harrison laughed. “You’re worse than a mother,” Harrison bothered him, but Tom ignored him. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N” They called her and she proudly walked into the stage to receive her diploma. 

The ceremony ended and after meeting with her mom and grandma, she ran over to Tom, who opened his arms to hug her and pick her up. 

“There she is, the woman of the moment!” Tom grinned. 

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed. 

“You don’t know how proud I am of you, y/n,” Tom whispered in her ear. “You actually came,” she chuckled. “You sound surprised,” he frowned. “I wouldn’t miss your graduation for anything in this world,” Tom grinned. She let him go, but her hands were still posing on his shoulders. “Thought that last night you told me you were with someone,” she said. “I was.” 

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Will you ever change?” She finally let him go as she smiled at her grandma. “Thank you so much, nana,” she hugged the woman. “They’d be so proud of you,” the woman said with tears in her eyes. “I know,” answered y/n with a tinge of sadness. Tom quickly gave her the bouquet of flowers, bringing a smile back on her face. 

“We are all proud of you,” her mother stepped in to remind her.”You did all of this by yourself, you did it!” 

“Mum,” y/n said, just a little bit embarrassed. Y/n smiled and glanced over to the cheerful Harrison who offered her a hug. 

“Congrats, Sherlock.” 

“Thank you, Watson,” she giggled. 

“So, are you going to interview me already?” Tom asked, with a chuckle. “I mean if you call yourself a journalist.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Why would I? I know everything about you already, mister,” she chuckled. “But if I may,” she cleared her throat and pulled out one of the flowers. 

She turned around and used the flower as a microphone. “Hello ladies and Gentleman, tonight we are all pleased to be hosting this event, the red carpet for the big movie, the one we’ve all been waiting for, the thrilling sequel to ‘We thought she wouldn’t survive the last finals’,” she took a deep breath. “I’m here joined by Tom Holland, one of the stars from the movie, who seems very excited, hey Tom! How are you? We love your outfit.”

“Hello, hello,” Tom faked arrogance as he unzipped his jacket. 

“I can’t believe we are here already! The big premier to the movie we’ve all been waiting for: ‘ridiculous and cliche graduation pictures’! Such a great title that just makes me shirker! Mr. Holland how was acting along with your two  best friends, Harrison and Y/N?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” he played along. “You see, it’s a very interesting film, it was shockingly violent, acting with them was amazing, Haz did a great job, but this movie wouldn’t be possible without the amazing role y/n played, she surprised us all.” 

“Ah, yes the stunts she pulled, one would’ve thought she couldn’t have made it, don’t you think?” She bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. “After the events of ‘We thought she wouldn’t survive the last finals’, y/n must have been through a lot.” 

“Definitely, some of those stunts were hard, I could never do something like that, but thank goodness that she pulled them off so elegantly.” 

“Of course, of course,” she giggled but then turned back serious. “So please, tell me, what was your favourite scene?” 

“Uh,” Tom bit his lip. “I love we were able to do that scene when it all started, with an almost broken nose and Chanel n°5,” Tom said. “I think I thank god every day for that scene.”

“Yes we all do,” she agreed with a tinge of red on her cheeks, she cleared her throat and turned to Haz. “Any words on the film? Mr Osterfield?Who are you wearing tonight?”

“You guys are the worst,” Haz stated, rolling his eyes. Both y/n and Tom laughed. 

Y/N’s mother nodded in agreement.  “Can we please take the pictures now?” 

“You’re taking away all the fun, guys,” y/n complained. 

“We didn’t even get her to be interviewing us at the Oscars,” Tom pouted. “You both are the biggest idiots,” Haz told them.

“Thanks,” they both said in unison.

“C’mon,I need my bloody cliché pictures,” she said dragging them to the side. They found the champagne as well on their way. They drank a glass, took pictures, congratulated other graduates while some other graduates were divided: some were amazed by the presence of Tom and Haz, while some others were disgusted by Tom, probably from their past encounters.

 Y/N laughed while Tom and her walked away from her mom and nana, who were talking nonstop with another graduate’s parents. Y/N’s best friends, Hannah, Jessica and Lizzie had come too, and Haz and Jess were talking. Lizzie was glaring at Tom. “She still remembers how you broke her heart,” y/n pointed out as she took a sip of her champagne. “Probably most girls here do, now that I think about it.” She turned around to look at the guests. “Wow, there goes Rachel, I thought she wouldn’t come, she texted me that she would only come if you weren’t here,” she pointed at her old roommate. “You wanna go say hello? bet she’ll be delighted with your presence,” y/n laughed with malice while Tom rolled his eyes. “Ah, sure, I’ll go say hi to all of them,” he joked. “Oh, she did come.” “She came to congratulate me, I guess,” y/n said. “I don’t know, but I bet she’s not approaching us.” 

“Not if I’m here,” Tom admitted.

Y/N chuckled.“Can you blame her? We started to hang out every single day and she was embarrassed that she almost slept with you that night” 

“Almost?” Tom smirked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Wait, did you—when did that—?”

Tom didn’t answer, he just sipped from his glass, holding back his snicker. 

“Thomas!” Y/N frowned as she started to make some calculations on her head. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“I’m not,” Tom shrugged. “That’s the only secret I have for you, I guess.” That was a lie. 

“When did it happen?” She frowned. 

“The first time? our first New Years eve together,” he chuckled. 

“First—?” Y/N blinked. “And the last time?” 

Tom started to count with his fingers. “About five—maybe six?”

“Six?” 

“Yeah, six hours ago,” he smirked. “After the party.” 

Y/N crossed her arms. “I can’t believe you,” she scowled. “I thought we had agreed on no friends of mine, you’re making me lose them.” 

Tom side hugged her and she just pushed him away. “Y/N I’m sorry.” 

But he truly wasn’t sorry, because what he had done with Rachel was yet again another attempt for him to stop himself from ruining the best relationship he had. Him and y/n had been too close the night before, and he had thought about kissing her, and he had thought about holding her. So he had to stop himself from having those thoughts, hence why he ended up shagging Rachel. It was a strict business. 

And it wasn’t like he had feelings for y/n, but sometimes he couldn’t deny that the way she smiled or the way she touched his shoulder would make his imagination go wild. 

“Be thankful those three haven’t stopped talking to me,” she motioned to her three friends. “I would’ve dumped your ass by now.” “Lizzie is still mad, huh?” Tom looked behind his shoulder. "And she will continue to be mad," Y/N reminded him, starting to walk further away. "You know, I turn to see most of the girls and almost all of them, you've broken their hearts."

"I've always been clear with my rules," Tom mentioned. "It's not my fault to be so charming."

Y/N shook his head. "I can't believe you," she said. "You're awful."

"Only if you sleep with me, I am," Tom agreed. "But look at us, we're fine."

Y/N kept walking, Tom following her. "You tried to sleep with me, though."

"Oh, I did, and you didn't give in,” Tom smiled. 

"I'm happy I did not." She laughed. “I would probably look like poor Rachel over there.” 

"What would have happened?" Tom asked her.

"I don't know, probably what you do with all of them, throw them away the next day,” she pointed out. 

"You never know," said Tom, watching her. 

"And we will never know because you haven't tried since," she smiled mischievously. 

Tom cleared his throat, as he blushed. “Nope.” That was another lie. 

"Who would say that someone like you would become my best friend?" She dedicated him a confused look. 

"I don't know, I'm grateful that my seductive gifts didn't work that day we met." Tom scoffed. 

Y/N nodded. “Cheers to that.” 

Tom noticed y/n’s tinge of sadness. "You're good?"

Y / N shrugged. "I do not know, I want to say yes. But everything is so overwhelming right now.” 

“The real world is waiting for you,” He said spraying his arms. 

“That’s scary,” she said and sighed. “I miss them.” 

And Tom knew why she had turned blue. 

“Bet they’re proud of you,” he said, lifting her chin. Only with her he could do this and be sure she wouldn’t be high heels for him. 

"Yes, and because of them I did it," she said. "I would like to go back and tell them, show both of them that I could do it, that I kept my promise."

Tom hugged her, while she only smiled bitterly at him. Tom knew how important this day was to her and how hard it was now that he remembered. Besides, it was more complicated while she watched the other families, all complete.

Her father and brother had died 2 years before. Tom still remembered how she had come to him and how she had curled up in the warmth of his arms. Sobbing and letting little pieces of her escape in each tear. Her life had collapsed into small pieces that had already vanished. It had been a car accident, Tom had never gone with the details. It was a horror story. She still had not overcome anything, and she never would. But Tom had been the small ray of light that illuminated her darkest moments, he had been there when she needed him the most.

As he held her he felt her release all her pain, as if Tom's arms had healing powers.

"You graduated," Tom told her, letting his head rest on her. It was weird, Tom knew that with her he could let loose all the 'bad boy' style. With her, he could let himself be carried away. He could be vulnerable and not all the farce that was charged.

"You guys say it like it’s a big deal, and shit it is."She let him go and smiled at him. "It scares me," she confessed. "It's strange as if... I still feel that it's not true."

"You have your diploma, don't you?"

"Sure, of course, but, I feel like I'm missing something in my life, I dunno," she told him. 

"What do you mean?" Tom questioned her.

"I dunno, I need to go out more, you know? I feel like I need to define myself before continuing, sort things out,” she added. "Anyway."

"Define yourself."

"Yes, I dunno, to explore the world before dedicating myself completely, to explore for a while, all my life I have been someone who has been locked up with perfect grades, and everything has been planned, so for the first time I want to be... free, to try other lands, not have to hide away.”

"Sure, of course, live a little."

"Something I've learned from you," she joked, staring at him. "Try different things, and then throw them away the very next day."

"Ah, come on," Tom shook his head, "you make it sound like it's awful, look at you now, having doubts when you literally just graduated."

"It is awful when it is with people," she corrected him. "Look, I just know I need a break."

"So you're not going to look out for a job?" Tom asked her.

"I already have, and—I got a job offer, but," she explained. "I feel like, I need something more. I need to sort something out before I do anything stupid."

Tom had already had this conversation with her. Y/N had done everything she had planned. Everything perfect, but at the same time, there was always a certain rebellion. She was independent but she had put on her own barriers, she had simply fulfilled the life of a perfect girl. But it was authentic, with her inappropriate comments, her blatant attitude, and her crazy ideas she had managed to tear apart the perfect girl without destroying it.  However, she was always held back by some fears, fears that Tom had noticed but she never really explained. He did not blame her, Tom was as scared as she was. Yet, it was the opposite. His biggest fear was the greatest strength of Y/N. Commitment. 

It was weird, while he was so committed to what he did, his acting career, he did not know how to escape later, Tom was so terrified that he was doing his best to avoid it, he was an expert escaping. 

She needed stability and plans while Tom liked spontaneity. They did not really know how their friendship worked. They liked being different. They needed each other, y/n didn't let Tom lose sanity and Tom made y/n take a little time to have fun, even to clear up.

"And what is that ... something else?" Tom asked.

"For now, I need to go out," she told him. "Have fun."

Tom smiled grimly. "With that, I can help."

"I asked you for a reason."

"Actually, I'm glad you did it then, Haz and I have something planned."

—- The music was loud and the blue lights lit up to the rhythm, making each rumble shine around them. They were in their best clothes, and there were boys and girls dancing near them. Some bottles and some glasses were on their table.

They had had a good time so far, and they were snapping pictures and recording Instagram stories while they were cheering out for the just graduated y/n, laughing. 

“So what’s the news, y/n?” Tom said, a terrible pun, really. 

Y N rolled her eyes at Tom but gave him another smile. 

After the event, they had gone to have dinner with her mother and grandmother. Tom and Y/N had shared their plates and ordered two different desserts. 

But now, they were enjoying themselves with y/n's friends, Tuwaine, Haz, and the twins. Tom had been a little uncomfortable with Lizzie, who completely tried ignored Tom's gaze at all costs. Harrison was not having a bad time, because Jess and him were having a nice conversation, Hannah and the twins were having the time of their lives and Tuwaine and his girlfriend were dancing.

Unfortunately, Tom had had to invite y/n's three friends. He didn’t mind Hannah and Jess, but Lizzie, Lizzie was a whole other situation. She was obsessed with him, and the tension in the room was something too peculiar. He had tried to ignore it but, but she had her ways of bothering him. Especially since Tom wanted to spend most of his time with y/n, and Lizzie kept dragging her away.

Tom had what he could say was the perfect life in terms of relationships, and he was well aware of that. Knowing that Lizzie was just trying to get his attention, he realized how easy his life was. He had a different woman when he pleased and could have fun all day with y/n. A perfect balance.

Now in the club, he was having the best time.

Celebrating the graduate with the best of everything, anything that could make the impossible possible. Tom seemed to not get tired of telling her how proud he was, and then as he was drinking more and more he couldn’t stop telling her beautiful she looked and she kept smiling shyly.

They danced together and laughed. He wasn’t sure if it was the music, the atmosphere, the type of reunion or the alcohol, but he felt that their looks had become significantly more flirtatious. It probably was his imagination.

They took some shots, showed their worst dance steps and kept enjoying. They ordered too many things and the attention in the club was diverted many times to their table.

Tom would not let his hand move away from y/n's waist in the whole night, but at some point, they both sat down to rest. There were times when Tom could not stop thinking about how she was his everything, this was one of those moments. He could never lose her, he loved her too much to ever let her go. It was amazing what Tom would be willing to do for her.

They were too close, everything platonic of course, so her head on his shoulder was nothing strange to him. Tom finally relaxed watching as their friends were having fun, although a fan interrupted them and asked Tom for a picture, who agreed with pleasure. Y/N watched them and the fan recognized her.

"You are y/n, I've seen you with Tom on his Instagram!" The fan cheered, and she laughed awkwardly. Tom noticed that the alcohol they had drunk had had an effect on his friend.

"Yep, that's me."

"You two make a beautiful couple!" The fan commented, causing her to shake her head quickly and Tom to laugh uncomfortably.

"Nono, nothing like that," Tom clarified, causing the fan to step back embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," the fan apologized. Tom winked at her before she left. 

Y/N giggled when she saw her leave. "She thought we're dating.” 

"She's not the first," Tom said, sitting down next to her.

"Nor will she be the last," she added. "Ha, you and me, a couple?"

"Ah, I love you too much to let you go with a stupid relationship."

"You're never going to try, then?" She asked him, and she did what she did best, stare into his eyes as if she was trying to read into his soul. And even if her eyes looked tipsy, he still thought they were the most amazing pair of eyes he had ever laid his eyes on. Tom did not know exactly where she wanted to go with that conversation. He knew that she didn't want him, so he did not need to worry. Or maybe he did.

"No, I love you, I want you in my life, I already told you," Tom assured her. "Or do you want me to try something?" He didn’t know where that question had come from. 

"We are too drunk for this conversation," she said as she reached for her glass, but then turned back to him.

"So you're telling me," Tom said as he rested his forehead on hers. "That you have  thought about this?"

"You're my best friend," she reproached him, pushing his head away. Tom brushed his lips lightly against her cheek.

"You have not thought about this?" Tom left a kiss on her neck, he felt her warm-up. She didn’t say anything. She cleared her throat and pushed him away again. 

"No, I just wanted to hear you didn't want to throw me away," she laughed. "What would I do without my Peter Parker?"

"I do not know," Tom looked at her. "You need me, and I need you.” 

"Don't start, Holland," she stopped him as she shuffled to get far from him. "But yes, I can tell you ... I wuv you!"

"Well, someone's a little drunk," Tom said as he watched her. Y/N kissed his nose. "Very drunk."

"I'm not," she said decisively. "Come on, you have to dance," she said, taking his arm and taking him back to the group as they danced. 

Lizzie was getting drunker and drunker. But y/n and Tom kept taking.

"Thanks for this," she said in Tom's ear, as they danced together.

"For you, I'd do anything," Tom assured him. Y/N paused to stare into his eyes. Tom meant it.

"I owe you one, I needed to forget everything about ..."

"Woah, okay, I need you to have fun, okay? We can mourn together tomorrow, but please! You graduated today! "

"Yes... Yes."

"And you'll be the best journalist, writer, reporter or whatever you want to be in the world," Tom said decisively. She leaned over to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, their met eyes again, feeling like the music that had previously stunned them was fading slowly, she saw Tom's lips, and Tom saw hers, they came a little closer but they were quickly interrupted by a cry from Lizzie. Tom and Y/N separated before they could do anything foolish, something they could regret.

Lizzie clung to Tom as she danced, and Tom didn't hesitate to let himself go, letting y/n go, while she laughed and played along with Harrison. They both needed to escape from the situation. The night continued and they danced separately. Lizzie kept caressing Tom's shoulders and y/n watched them for a brief moment but let it go. One way or another, Tom ended up kissing Lizzie.

Y/N turned to see them and simply rolled her eyes with a little anger, but continued to dance, chatting and laughing with Tuwaine, the twins, her friends and Haz. She could have enough fun to forget about it. 

Tom and Lizzie were very busy doing their thing so they decided not to interrupt them.

They stayed there until 3 in the morning and they decided they would go to Tom and Harrison's flat, they would continue the party there. Y/N and Haz waited for Tom so the three of them could leave in an Uber, however, Lizzie arrived and discreetly approached y/n's ear.

"Let me go with Tom alone," she begged sweetly. Y/N frowned.

But before she could tell her anything, Lizzie smiled at them as she took the Uber with Tom, his lips still glued to her, closing the door before either Haz or Y/n could hop on.  Haz and Y/N were left along since Tuwaine had left with the twins, Jess and Hannah in another car.

Y/N watched them leave, although she didn't want to admit it, she felt her heartbreaking little by little. But she was trying to ignore it, so she just looked down at her phone.

It was not the first time she felt that Tom and her had something else, this wasn’t the first time they had had their ‘almost’ kiss. It seemed like in the past few months that had been a constant. 

But their friendship was too good to ruin it for their feelings, even if they both said they were non-existent. It was obvious to everyone in the room except for the two of them. She would often deny it to herself and Tom let it escape, ignoring it. But she always had to cross out the thought while seeing him continue with his life.

Harrison smiled apologethically at her. "Lizzie has serious problems, no offence."

"None taken," Y/N clarified as the next Uber arrived. "She's an idiot."

"I’d say Tom is the idiot in that equation."

"No, she knows perfectly well what she is to face with Tom," Y/N explained, as she looked back at her phone."I mean, that does not make Tom less a jerk, but he doesn't play games, he's very clear with his rules."

"Oh, yes, quite clear," Harrison agreed with her. "I think that besides his mother, the only constant woman in his life has been you."

"Someday he will throw me away," she shrugged.

Haz shook his head with a smile. "I doubt that."

"You do?" She questioned him, as they climbed into the car that had arrived.

"Sure, you're what Tom needs to be sane, he worries too much about you, it's unbelievable you're the only serious thing he has in his life."

"There's nothing serious."

"I mean friendship, I know it does not go any further than that, but I'm amazed how he really takes pains to have you happy, he loves you too much," Haz told her.

"Yeah, we are friends."

"I think there's more, but you guys keep ignoring it,” Haz pointed out. 

“Not from his side, no,” She gulped. 

“And from yours?” Haz questioned. 

 Y/N was silent for the rest of the ride. They arrived at Haz' place and she still was thinking about it.

The party continued, the graduate was happy, and they continued joking, playing cards and basically looking for excuses to get even drunker. They made a round of 'never have I ever' which started out as a game to destroy innocence and ended up being a war of who could embarrass who the most. They continued with a round of charades and ended up listening to music, scattered on the chairs. Lizzie and Tom were very interested in each other as they continued with their make-out session, quite gross if you asked anyone in the room.

Almost everyone had gone, only the owners of the place were left with Lizzie and Y/ N.

"Hey, Tom, mind if I stay?" y/n asked before Lizzie threw herself into Tom's arms.

"Oh, no, you’re good, you can stay in the guest room, you know," he told her, while Lizzie kissed his neck. Y / N felt like scorn and was quite disgusted by the scene.

"I'll take a hoodie of yours," she warned him and went to his room. Such a nice room, even if she knew what was about to happen next. She looked around, smiling at the pictures all over the walls. He had a lot of things about Spiderman, of his trips, it was...very him, very much his real self. Not that boy who was kissing one of her best friends downstairs. It was weird, it was him but y/n thought it was another role he played, the playboy life wasn’t truly him . Y/N saw a picture he had with her.

And then she realized it, she was the one who should be there, kissing Tom, not Lizzie. Because Tom meant something to her. But what was she thinking? 

She had hope, that maybe he had thought about it, too. That maybe he had only been sleeping around because he couldn’t have her. And maybe she had only been dying for him to ask her out again, she was dying for a kiss. Just one kiss, and maybe she could get back to her senses. 

She thought about it, maybe she could stop him, just go downstairs and stop him, tell him how she really felt after all those years. She turned around, but before she could even go out and ask Tom to stop what he was doing so he could come down to his senses, she heard them approach.

"Uh, we kinda need this room," Tom said mischievously, while Lizzie laughed shyly.

"Oh, yes, sorry."

And with that, y/n walked out. 

“You’re okay?” Haz had asked her as he bumped into her. 

“Yeah, I just feel a bit sick,” she had told him. 

“Probably the alcohol,” Haz suggested. 

“Probably, yeah,” she smiled. But they both knew it wasn’t the alcohol.  

Haz gave her a small smile as she started to walk away. “You know, he’s too scared of losing you.” 

“Yet he’s doing nothing to keep me,” she sighed. “I’m going to book my flight tomorrow.” 

“Does he know?” Haz pushed.

“No,” she shrugged. “But knowing me, and knowing him, it’s the best I can do.” 

“So you’re escaping?” Haz frowned. 

“I learned from the best,” she shrugged. “I can’t let this grow.”

Haz didn’t push it any further, because he knew that it was hopeless. And she knew it, too. She knew it was either too early or too late to accept it because she was doomed to never have him.

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[andtheyweredeskmates]

Chapter Eight- Of Latte’s and Lingerie

For those of you who are interested, I posted my concept art for the red piece from the last chapter. If you got back to chapter seven there’s a link. If you don’t feel like going back and looking for it, you can find it here

Here’s the previous seven chapters for those of you who are interested

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 

AO3

TAGLIST: 

@catsssmeow @toodaloo-kangaroo

When Adrien went to bed he was still texting Marinette. He started to pay a little more attention to the way he worded things. Maybe he was being a little flirty. Adrien sighed as he stared at his phone.

Did he really even know what flirty was? Nino was right, he hadn’t really been interested in anyone since high school, and even then it had been a halfhearted crush. Kagami was one of his only friends aside from Chloe and they’d spent a lot of time together. She was his first kiss. But it wasn’t long after they’d started dating that Adrien realized his feelings for her were no where near as strong as her feelings for him. So, he broke it off. They of course, stayed friends but Adrien could tell he’d hurt his friend. It was never really the same after that.

Adrien supposed that was why he never really tried too hard to get the attention of women. He was always so focused on making friends, he kind of let the idea of romance slip away.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

So who’s your dad? You keep telling me about how your dad is connected to the fashion world. Maybe I know him?

Coffee Buddy

Um, it’s a surprise. I’ll tell you after the show

The last thing he needed was to ruin a perfectly good friendship by telling her that his dad was her boss.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

All right fine, keep your secrets. I’m going to  bed. I don’t want to be late to work again. Are we still on for coffee tomorrow?

Adrien smiled softly.

Coffee Buddy

Yup! Good night Marinette, see you tomorrow.

…

Marinette really did plan to go to bed. But the racing of her heart and the pride she felt when she thought about how smoothly she was able to talk to the Hot Guy, kept her awake for hours. It was nearly two in the morning when she fell asleep. As Alya would say, she had it bad.

…

Miraculously, Marinette managed to get up on time the next morning. Even more miraculous however was the amazing mood she was in. Today would be a good day. She would go to work (and seeing as she was not in charge of running the upcoming show she would be free to start on yet another project and forget about the horror that would be Fruit of Passion), go to Dunn’s, talk to the Hot Guy, and come home for a self care night, complete with a bubble bath, candles, and a Jagged Stone record. Today was going to be a good day.

…

“Mari, I got your pieces for the show back today, I want you to try on the red piece so we can make sure it fits correctly. I know it’s your size but I want to ensure its flattering you in every way.Every detail matters.”

Marinette really thought it was gonna be a good day.

…

“Mari I’m almost impressed how well it fits you,” Audrey mused. Meanwhile, Marinette was blushing in the corner of the room trying very hard not to succumb to the instinct to cover herself. Audrey moved closer.

“You know these straps almost make it hard to tell how flat chested you are.” Marinette resented that.

“You know, I was under the impression that models were supposed to have perfect bodies. Full chests, toned stomachs, tan skin,” Marinette spat. Audrey rolled her eyes.

“Well luckily for you, we’re attempting to rebrand for the general public. Showing off average body types has become more widely accepted. Besides, that red does wonders for your pale skin. No one is going to be searching for your six pack.” Marinette groaned.

“If you’re really worried about it, you’re welcome to go to the gym,” Audrey said offhandedly. Marinette recoiled. She hated the gym. The sweat, the pain, the yelling, the stupid pictures. She’d much rather sit at home watching trashy television and sipping wine on the couch.

…

TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE

“No!!!!” Marinette screeched. She stared at the sign on the front door, mouth open.

“Oh man, I saw the sign that they would be doing renovations soon, I didn’t realize it was today, sorry Marinette.” Marinette turned around to see the Hot Guy standing behind her.

“You mean… they had a sign?” Marinette felt stupid. How hadn’t she noticed. She was only here nearly every day of the week.

“Yeah its been up for about a month now. I hadn’t really paid much attention to it though.” Marinette glanced back at the door.

“But…. Coffee…” Marinette said, defeated. The Hot Guy laughed.

“We could always go somewhere else! I still want to hang out. What about Starbucks?” The Hot Guy sounded a little desperate. Maybe he was desperately in need of coffee too. Marinette sighed.

“Yeah lets go there, hopefully they aren’t crowded.”

…

Starbucks was definitely crowded. Nearly filled to the brim with people.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anywhere to sit,” Hot Guy said, glancing around. Marinette bit her lip.

“Um this might sound lame but we could always take our drinks back to Dunn’s and sit outside? I mean, if you aren’t busy. I know that’s a lot of time to drive back and forth.”

Hot Guy laughed.

“Sounds kind of scandalous, like cheating in your own house. I’m down if you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette nearly swooned. The gleam in Hot Guy’s eye when he said it, the low sultry tone. She really had it bad.

“Haha, yeah well I’m gonna order…” she said awkwardly. Hot Guy smiled.

“Just tell me what you want. I’ll grab both of our drinks. Just sit tight.” Marinette gaped at him.

“Oh, uh thank you. Let me hand you some cash…” Hot Guy was shaking his head before she finished.

“Don’t worry about it, consider it thanks for letting me crash your pity party at Dunn’s the other day.”

…

Adrien kinda wanted to kick himself. Crash your pity party? What an asshole thing to say. Luckily Marinette somehow didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, thank you. Just get me an iced cocoa cloud macchiato.” Adrien smiled at her.

“No problem. I’ll be right back.” He walked over to the coffee line and waited patiently. Thankfully, even though the line had been long, the baristas moved efficiently.

“What can I get for you?” The barista looked dead inside. Circles under her eyes, a flat tone to her voice. Adrien was a little thrown. Starbucks had a very different atmosphere than Dunn’s.

“Oh, uh let me get a large mocha frappe and a large iced cocoa cloud… thing.”

“So a venti mocha frappuccino and a venti iced cocoa cloud macchiato?” Adrien blushed a little. He felt stupid in a place like this.

“Um, sure.”

“What’s the name?”

“Adrien.” The barista wrote quickly on the side of the cup.

“Your total is $10.29,” she grumbled. Adrien fished in his wallet for some cash.

“Here.” The barista counted his money and handed him the change.

“It’ll be out shortly,” she said. Adrien thought breifly that she kind of reminded him of a dead fish.

“Right,” he said quietly. He made his way back to Marinette.

“Well, it should be out in a bit,” he said cheerfully. No need to complain about how much he really did not like this establishment.

She smiled back at him. Adrien stared at her for a moment, as though for the first time. She really was pretty. She was mixed, that much was evident, even if you didn’t know her last name. She had fair skin and beautiful silk black hair. Her thick lashes brushed her cheeks when she smiled and her monolid eyes were a very astounding deep blue. He could see why Nino had such a big crush on her. She was beautiful.

“I’ve got a mocha frappucino and iced cocoa cloud macchiato for Aiden?”

…

Marinette jumped for a moment at the loud call of the barista.

“I guess that’s us,” Hot Guy grumbled, turning back to counter. Marinette immediately felt relief. Aiden. So that was his name. She can’t believe she hadn’t thought about that before. Listening for the call of the coffee. She immediately changed his contact name in her phone. Alya would be proud.

When Aiden came back, she smiled at him.

“So Aiden…” She trailed off. She hadn’t really thought of what to say, she had just wanted to try his name out. She was a little put off by the roll of his eyes.

“Oh whatever, you know that’s not really my name.” Marinette froze and laughed awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah… well I think I’m just gonna have to call you that from now on,” she said mechanically. ‘Aiden’ laughed.

“Oh no, don’t tell me this is a thing now,” he said. Marinette pulled up her phone and showed him his new contact.

“Yeah, it’s too late. That’s your new name,” she said.

“Alright, well I guess that’s just part of making new frineds. They always find cruel and unusual ways of making fun of you. Come on Mari, lets go back to Dunn’s.” Mari followed closely behind him and facepalmed. How the hell did she get stuck in these ridiculous situations?

Thanks for reading! I actually edited for once but if there’s any typos that you notice please let me know, I accept feedback of all kinds! Also I did another concept art for Marinette playing with the idea of her aged up with monolids. It isn’t really how I picture her but it was fun to draw! It’s here if you wanna see

Next Chapter

[lovemesomesurveys]

why aren’t you with your first love? He didn’t feel the same way and things just didn’t work out. could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? I feel like I’ve hurt myself more than anyone.  have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? My doggo, ha. is good grammar attractive? I wouldn’t say that, but I do like and appreciate it. what is your relationship status? Single.

say the person your thinking about walks up to you and hugs you, what do you say? I’d be very caught off guard and back away. Also, social distancing get away from me. ha. were you sad when you heard about michael jackson’s death? It was sad. have you ever kissed an ex after you broke up? Yes. have you ever cheated on someone? No. ever been called a bitch? Only in a joking way as far as I know. Although, that’s probably been said by my former friends in recent years after I just fell off the grid. :/ ever had your heart broken? does it still hurt? Yes, in the romantic sense and in other ways. I’m not hurting anymore over the romantic ones, but the others will always affect me. are you happier today or three months ago? Wasn’t happy then or now. has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yes. how long could you go without cursing? I don’t curse a lot. did anything annoy you today? Not so far, but I’m sure something will. I’m an irritably and moody person. have you consumed alcohol in the past 24 hours? Nope. It’s been 7 years. have you ever kissed someone who’s last name started with an b? Yes. who is the last person you were in a car with? My younger brother. what were you doing at 8am this morning? It’s only 4:25AM, but knowing me I’ll probably barely be going to sleep at that time. :X if you were kicked out of your house, where would you go first? I really don’t know. Thankfully, I know that would never happen. in the past week, have you cried hysterically in front of a friend? No. what will you be doing in 3 hours? Attempting sleep.  what are you currently looking forward to? Nothing. what’s the last thing you drank? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink. is tomorrow gonna be a good day? what are you going to do? Just another day. are you satisfied with your life as of now? No. what do you carry with you at all times? If I go anywhere I’d take my mini backpack with my wallet, phone, medicine, hand sanitizer, and mask. who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? My brother. are any of your friends taller than you? Just about everyone I know is taller than me. have you ever gone out of your way to make someone happy? Yes. how late did you stay up last night and why? Until after 8AM. :/ who was the last person you took a picture with? My mom. you’re extremely quiet, what’s it mean? It could mean I’m upset or it could mean nothing.  do you wear a belt with every pair of jeans? I never wear a belt. a fact about the last person who had their arms around you? She’s my mom and she loves to watch true crime stuff. where did you get the shirt you are wearing? Kohl’s. could you go a day without eating? It happens once in awhile. what was the reason you got grounded for last? I’m 30 years old. do you know anyone that smokes weed? I know many people who do. how long does it take you to shower? Like 30-40 minutes. the last two people you kissed, are they virgins? No. describe how you feel right now in one word? Tired. anybody tell you they miss you lately? No.  anything you want right now? Not at this exact moment. are you closer to your father or mother? My mom. do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? No. what’s your relationship with the person you talked to last? He’s my brother. do you want to get married & have children one day? No. any siblings? I have two brothers. do you believe love lasts forever? I believe it can. do you say sorry first? Usually. I’m quick to blame myself for everything. did you speak to your father today? Not yet. I will later on when we’re all awake. is there a guy that knows everything or mostly everything about you? A lot of things, but not everything. have you ever been to mexico? Yes. what locker number is yours? I never had a locker. you’re single, why? I want to be, it’s best that I am. I couldn’t give the time, energy, or attention to one right now. No one wants to be with me anyway. has anyone ever hurt you? Yes. what made your day? There hasn’t been anything as of now. It is only 4:30 in the morning, but still I don’t see anything happening today. do you like the snow? Yessss. It’s probably magical to me because it doesn’t snow where I live. do you believe that there are certain circumstances where cheating is okay? No.   have you ever been in trouble for something you honestly didn’t do? Yes. does anyone call you babe or baby? Nope. what were you doing at 2am last night? Surveys and listening to ASMR. do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? I sleep in the middle. do you prefer an ocean or a pool? I love being near the ocean, watching the waves crash in and out, feeling that cool air, and smelling that salty ocean air, but I don’t get in it. I don’t swim and deep water terrifies me. But still, I’d choose the ocean for the reasons I listed. do you shut off the water when you brush your teeth? Yes. do you sleep with your closet door opened or closed? My closest used to have sliding doors, but I got them taken off a few years ago and put up curtains.  are you capable of holding down a long-term relationship? I believe so. is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to? Yes, my loved ones. if your best friend made out with your boyfriend/ girlfriend, what would you do? My mom would never.  when was the last time you were in a very good mood? Hmm. what is bothering you right now? My back. what are you excited for? Nothing. do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Nope. have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t do? Yes. do you wear your feelings all over your face? I’m not as good at hiding it anymore like I used to be. what is the last movie that you watched? It’s Complicated. do you like when people play with your hair? I did when I was younger.   is there a specific moment you can replay in your mind perfectly? There’s a lot of moments I can and do that with. do you miss how things use to be with someone? Yes. I miss how things were with Ty and I. 

[whirlybirbs]

“ wait , did you just say you love me? “-Santi?

oops i changed the prompt a little.......... ;)have some santi x np!reader with frankie as a wingman

The first time you ever meet Santiago Garcia, it’s at 3:23am and you’re pounding your fist on the door to his apartment -- one level above your own -- with exhausted eyes and frustration boiling over.

Fucking Metallica.

Over. And over. As loud as could be. 

“SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN --”

“Hey! It’s fucking early, man!”

The music cuts and the door swings open. Dark eyes narrow and meet your own. Your lip curls into a snarl. The man on the other side gives you a once over. You’ve got no pants on. Your hair is a mess. 

“Could you... turn it down?” you seethe, “Please. I’ve... I’m right below you. I can hear it. Loud and clear.”

“Right.”

“It’s late.”

“Yea,” a dismissive chirp, “I’ll, uh, I’ll turn it down, lady. Have a good night.”

The door slams in your face.

It’s morning. It’s 3:25am. The sun is going to rise in --

“EXIT LIGHT, ENTER NIGHT, TAKE MY HAND, OFF TO NEVER-NEVER LAND!”

Metallica kicks back on, this time louder.

He sees you in the Starbucks line the next morning on his way to work.

(He’s picked up a lax job at the local precinct running organized crime cases; Santiago can’t retire. He doesn’t have it in him. Despite the knees and the neck injuries, the retired Army Ranger still has the fight.)

You look at him from your spot in line and he can see the anger on your face.

Behind his sunglasses, Santi smirks. He picks up his to-go and walks out, leaving you in the shop without a word. 

You hate Santiago Garcia.

He’s an ass. Bullheaded and rude and stuck-up and you don’t care if he’s served your country -- he’s a terrible neighbor and an even worse person. And all he fucking listens to is one Metallica album. One. One self-titled album, again and again. The stereo shakes the ceiling above your bed. 

It’s been three weeks since you’ve first knocked on Santi’s door.

You’ve slept, maybe, a combined 10 hours since. 

You’re not sure how no one else in the complex isn’t going bat-shit by now -- just two days ago you watched Santiago traipse by and greet Mrs. Lopez across the hall as if they were best pals. 

On the twenty-second day of self titled album bullshit, you storm upstairs again.

This time, it’s 8:54pm and you’ve got an early shift tomorrow morning at the hospital. You don’t have time for this. 

“What?”

You want to punch him in his stupid, smug, handsome face.

Instead, you ram a CD of the band’s 1996 album Load into his chest and narrow your eyes. 

“Play something else. If I hear Enter Sandman one more time, I’ll crawl through your window and smash your stereo.”

Santi just looks at you, then the CD, and closes the door in your face.

It’s not a bad album.

But it’s bad when it’s played purposefully into the night.

After you’d given him the CD, you’d been blessed with silence for two whole nights in a row. Absolute silence. In fact, there’s no movement in his apartment at all. 

On Thursday, however, Santiago is back to his usual antics. And his music is on. It’s a different album, albeit on,  but you’ve, at this point learned that white noise and headphones can do the trick if you ignore the thrum of the drums and bass that rattle your walls. 

You accept the fact this is now your life.

And then on Saturday, there’s silence.

And more silence.

And more.

And for a whole three weeks, you see nothing of Santiago in the Starbucks below your apartment, hear nothing of his usual Metallica. Mrs. Lopez asks you one afternoon if he’s alright. 

You muster up the nerve to knock on his door.

Nothing. 

You start to miss the music.

You, quite literally, run into him in the elevator.

He’s got a dufflebag slung over his shoulder, sunglasses perched on his nose as he shifts through a playlist on his phone. You’re not looking and neither is he. You connect shoulders and upon realizing it’s him, you almost say something.

There’s a bruise along his cheekbone -- a laceration is there, and it’s deep.

You blink. Santiago spares you a single nod.

“You’re back.”

He pauses half-way down the hall.

“Yeah.”

You hold the elevator open. 

“Mrs. Lopez was asking for you.”

Santiago makes sure, that night, to play his music as loud as he can.

You see him more and more. 

And then, one afternoon, he strolls into the pediatrics waiting room with another man and a baby stroller. There’s a baby girl in there, about six months with big eyes and bright giggle. The man checks in under the name Frankie Morales and when you walk into the exam room to find Santiago Garcia bouncing the baby girl in his arms, you nearly drop your clipboard.

Frankie, the father, blinks between the two of you.

The tension is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

“You two know each other?”

It was awfully nice of him to decide that, once he find out you were a pediatric nurse practitioner who was his best friend’s kid’s primary care, he’d shut his fucking Metallica off at a decent hour.

It’s 2:21am.

There’s banging on your front door.

In a bleary haze, you stumble out of bed. Anxiety pricks at your brain, wondering who the hell was trying to break your door down so early in the morning -- and then you hear the hushed panic of a phone conversation on the other side of the door.

“Frankie, que es tu problemo, huh, I think she’s fine. It’s a cough,” a breath, “I’m knocking on her door right now. Just calm down.”

Santiago spares you an apologetic look.

You take the phone, gesturing for him to come in. And for the next hour, you walk the Army-Ranger-single-father on the other line through a small dosage of aspirin and a heat compress for his baby girl. You even move to your laptop, juggling the phone and Morales’ personal information and his questions while Santi chews his lip.

“I’m making you an appointment for tomorrow morning,” you say softly, “So we can get the cough squared away and make sure it’s nothing serious, but it sounds like a cold turned upper-respiratory to me, Frankie. I wanna get her on a round of antibiotics so we can kick it in the bum.”

It’s 3:47am when you finally hang up the phone.

Santi’s face is soft.

“Thank you.”

You shrug. 

“It’s part of the job.”

Santiago tags along to the appointment the next day. He brings you your coffee order from Starbucks. You’re not sure how he knows it but you don’t say anything. Instead, you thank him. And he smiles for the first time and your world stops.

You hate him, you try to tell yourself, you do. 

He hates you, he says in his head, he does. 

Both of those are lies.

You drown it out to the sound of Metallica overhead. 

No pining for your neighbor in silence in this apartment complex.

[artificialqueens]

Fall in Time (Branjie) - somesilverreply

A/N: Brooke has always been a perfectionist. A dancer. It was as if her long legs had an agreement with the Earth beneath her to paint it with her plies. Dance, to her, has always been about poise and grace. So when she meets Vanessa - a dancer who possesses anything but - she’s left wondering how she managed to get it so wrong. Read on AO3 here.

When Brooke Lynn Hytes was seven years old, she tripped.

When Brooke Lynn Hytes was seven years old, 8 days, 2 hours, and 13 minutes old her mother told her she should be more graceful.

When Brooke Lynn Hytes was seven years old, 8 days, 2 hours, and 14 minutes old she was enrolled in her first ballet class.

She still remembers every detail. The smell of her teacher’s perfume as she grand jete’d across the room. The way her feet felt like they didn’t belong to her the second she went en pointe for the first time. The way the other boys and girls in her class watched with envy as she was the first to land her pirouette. It was as if her long legs had an agreement with the Earth beneath her to paint it with her plies.

Even her mother began to appreciate her beauty. It was as if she had finally felt free enough to be successful and accepting of the warmth around her instead of the icy cold she had trapped herself in.

Because Brooke was beautiful. She wasn’t just a good dancer, she was an artist. She created feeling with the nuance of her footwork. She was articulate, intelligently elegant, and proud.

She was.

When Brooke Lynn Hytes was 33 years, 3 months, 19 days and 1 hour old she was tired.

Minutes blurred into hours and it felt like the sensation of her foot falling asleep had taken it upon itself to bombard the numbness in her brain. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her job, per say, she liked it just fine. Soon after it became clear dancing professionally didn’t seem like it would quite make into her thirties, she had to start planning and make choices. It wasn’t easy, though. From the time Brooke was old enough to comprehend the fleeting nature of having a career in dance, she told herself she was ready to accept the limited timeline. Work her ass off as a young adult and thrive in her twenties, and slow down by the time she was approaching thirty.

But it hadn’t been such a natural transition, as life never goes exactly how you plan – a nightmare for Brooke, who’s entire existence until that point had been centered around perfection and precision.

When she was 29 years, 3 months, 6 days, and 21 hours old, admittedly hungover and practically injecting espresso in her veins, she was on tour with her dance troupe. They had been touring all over the country for the greater half of a year, and they were about three-quarters of the way done with this leg before they were to head to Europe, one of Brooke’s lifelong dreams. She’d formed an early fascination with European culture and had taken it upon herself to memorize the capitals by age 9, impressing no one but patting her own pride on the back nonetheless.

She and her troupe were sat in a Starbucks of some Who Cares town, Ohio when she finally felt herself feel her age. She was tired and a little nauseated, the growing twinge in the crux of her foot finally making its appearance loud and clear.

Brooke was all about perfection. All about poise and obsessed with maintaining the only thing in life she’d ever felt like she belonged to.

But that night, for the first time in a long time, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she let it go.

Maybe it was the sliver of monotony she’d felt in the middle of the Act 1 closer last night. Maybe it was the unwelcomed heat she felt watching one of her costars undress at intermission because damn, when is the last time she’d had sex?, or maybe it was just the clock she’d set for herself chiming incessantly and she thought if she just hit snooze for a night, maybe it’d be okay.

As she was getting ready backstage, applying her makeup in artful strokes in the rehearsed manner she’d done since she could hold her mother’s lipstick, the blurry memories of the night before came rushing back to her with a simple pounding in her head, as if the headache was actually pushing the memory to the forefront of her brain.

“To Ballet D’Amérique, to Europe next month, and to Brooke finally letting her hair out of that tight ass ponytail!”

One of her fellow dancers, Alyssa, had begun a chorus of laughs in Brooke’s direction as they all raised their glasses in messy unison, laughing without a care in the world. Brooke smiled as she too raised her conservative glass of chardonnay with her fellow dancers, giving them a few warning glances followed by a smile.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like to have fun, she just couldn’t exactly keep up with her fellow girls like she used to, especially considering many of them were in their early twenties. Brooke had watched many of them come and go over the years. Some had gotten caught up in relationships, marrying, having children. Brooke had the occasional hookup here and there, gone on a date or two in cities she couldn’t remember. But nothing stuck. She wasn’t going to be one of the girls that left. She’s not like them. She’s better than them, as she’d let herself believe. She was proud that she had taken care of herself enough to stick it out this long.

So approaching thirty, Brooke decided she’d racked up enough hypothetical universe points to finally let her hair fall by her shoulders. She deserved it.

It’d been so long she wasn’t sure she knew exactly what deserving meant.

Nonetheless, with a kick of the warm, bitter confidence flung into her throat like it was an anecdote to the poison she’d been drowning in, she let herself flick her hair back in a dramaticized shake, eliciting “oohs” and “ahhs” from her troupe.

“Well you got me out, at least let me do what I do best!”

The girls led Brooke out to the dancefloor, and it was almost as if years of internalized self-doubt and criticism had washed off her shoulders with the warm burn of a stranger’s whiskey. She was dancing like she hasn’t been dancing all her life, like her body could only replace words with less than delicate movement. She was moving her body in positions her classical ballet training would be baffled by, and she loved every second of it. Maybe because she liked the attention from the crowd around her, or maybe she just liked to be free.

She let herself trip, really fall. But this time, no one was there to tell her she needed to fall in line.

Brooke sits in her dressing room and hears over the monitor that they were to be in places in five minutes. She hears the cacophonous “thank you five” coming from all different directions and the room spins around her. She glances down to her foot and over to the pointe shoes beside her dressing table like they’re suddenly the scariest thing she’d ever seen.

“Brooke, you good? You don’t have your tights or anything on yet,” she’d heard Alyssa say, barely making its way through the headache of memories.

“Yeah, yeah… um… Alyssa?” She’d asked, snapping her head to the right, hoping to find her friend there to alleviate some of the questions swirling around her mind. But she was gone.

You’re fine, she thought to herself, almost coming out aloud as a pleaded whisper. She was Brooke. She was healthy. No nights off for 12 years, and tonight was not going to be any different.

She joined the others backstage, giving a light squeeze to her friends’ hands as they took a collective breath, just like they had done for years, every night. If Brooke had known this would be her last time living in the comfort of the tradition she would’ve tried to shut her mind off and savor it. But she didn’t know.

Torn Achilles tendon. Torn Achilles tendon. Torn Achilles tendon.

She kept saying it over and over out loud to herself as if it would somehow make it go away.

It burned off the tip of her tongue as she delivered the news to her friends. It pounded in her head as she felt the effects of the bottom of the bottle of wine in her apartment. It stabbed her through the chest as postcards came rushing under the door from Paris, London, Stockholm, Helsinki, Oslo -

She felt the twist every second. The harsh strobe of the dance club.

The way she fell.

The way it came flooding back to her in warning the second it was too late in the middle of her pirouette.

She knew it was over, but she didn’t think it’d be so abrupt. She felt like she was watching her world collapse underneath her every time she reached up to grab the glasses on the top shelf. It was like the tops of her feet felt her heartbreak too.

When Brooke was 33 years, 3 months, 19 days and 2 hours old and heard the dizzying ‘ping’ of new emails pouring in, she felt the familiar surge of caffeine kick in from the espresso beside her, giving her a sense of empty adrenaline. She had an appointment with a client at 10am who was seeking representation.

Shortly after Brooke was forced to end her contract with the troupe, she luckily enough had held onto a connection with the director who booked all his dancers through the same talent agency in Chicago, where she found herself residing now. She’d started out as a receptionist, quickly climbing her way to assistant casting director, charming her way through the chain of male superiors and had a comfortable, powerful position in just four years. She had to be proud - she was born to be in control, precise, and poised. But something about it didn’t settle right in her stomach.

Thousands of applicants, young actors, singers, models, and of course, dancers had submitted every day with few even making it to the interview process, likely because they had some type of connection with the agency. Brooke found no satisfaction in turning young people away, and hated herself when she had a particularly cold interaction with a dancer. Young and untouched by the years of work, bright eyed and naiive as Brooke had once been.

But it was her job. Just like dancing had been, ultimately, a job. Put on the tights. The lipstick. Pirouette. Smooth your skirt.

Hire talent.

“Brooke, your 10am is here,” Brooke’s secretary, Scarlet, had tentatively called into her office after a few knocks. Her promotion was recent, and she could feel the burning glares of the other young women in the office as she strode in every morning. She tried not to let it affect her, as this was the nature of the entertainment world, but she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the waves of isolation she’d fought so desperately to get over.

Brooke had been so caught up in her work she hadn’t even bothered to glance at the file, complete with headshot and resume beside her desk. She fumbled with papers to make room on the opposite side of the desk, taking a deep breath before hearing the soft click of the door opening. She barely had a second to feel the breath escape her chest as she glanced up from the headshot to the woman in front of her, just as bright eyed and naiive as Brooke expected with this time, instead of a cool chill of resentment it was replaced with a warm rush through her hand, reaching to connect with the girl’s outstretched one in front of her.

“Hi, ma’am, I’m… my name’s Vanessa, it’s nice to meet you.”

[insert-geeky-things-here]

Here and Gone Again - Chapter 1: The Pizza Man

Chapter Summary: Amelia and her friends hang out during their final hour of school before they all head to Amelia’s house to celebrate her 18th birthday.

Warnings: Light swearing

Word Count: 3,107

Chapter 1/?

“Danger! Danger! This call is from your mother!” Blared the ringtone that I had set for none other than my mom. I looked to the teacher with the phone in my hand, brow raised, silently asking them if I could step outside and answer the call.

“Be quick,” Mr. Wilson, my American Government teacher, replied as he continued his rant on how inaccurate Disney’s version of Pocahontas was.

Nodding my head in thanks, I stood and headed towards the door, answering my phone as I did so. The hallway was silent besides the light chatter coming from the open doors and room-less classrooms around the school. When looking outside the many windows that faced the afternoon sun, one could still see that hints of summer still clung to the trees that had mostly turned various shades of red and orange. Hell, even the sky looked like it could have been a clear summer day. It was late September, so it was a nice sight to see.

“Hey, mom!” I smiled, a sense of reverence hinted in my voice since there were some classroom doors open.

“Hi, honey,” She said, her voice coming out a little garbled from the semi-shitty cell reception. “Are your friends still coming over for the party?”

I smiled widely, excitement bubbling up inside me, remembering that party that was going to take place at my house.

“Most of ‘em,” I said. “Brielynn has to study for college midterms.”

There was a pause for a short time, and during that time, I could hear the sound of my mom’s car running in the background along with the mumbled singing of my older sister Melissa who was sitting in the car with my mom, home from college for the weekend, lucky to get away from the stress of midterms. Assuming the rest would be able to come, she asked another question.

“Okay. Even though I won’t be home for a while, should I get pizza for the friends who don’t like sushi?”

“You don’t have to get the pizza, mom,” I replied. “I can order some when I’m in fourth period so then my friends and I have something to snack on. I’ll have some delivered to the house a little bit before dinner starts if I need to.

With a simple okay, we continued on with saying our goodbyes, for the time being, I hung up and walked back into the classroom, putting my phone away as I sat down. By then, Mr. Wilson was showing students a clip from Pocahontas and was pointing out all of the errors and telling them how the scenarios we witnessed most likely went down. Many students laughed or snorted at Wilson’s varying array of reactions. A few moments later, the clip was finished, which marked the end of his rant. Sighing, Mr. Wilson turned to me, an exasperated look upon his already weary face.

“How did your call go?” He asked, a hand on his hip, his other resting on his computer.

“It was okay,” I shrugged. “My mom is going to pick up some sushi for my 18th birthday party tonight.”

Mr. Wilson gasped and wore a face of feigned a hurt expression. His hand went to his chest as if I just told him that I was going to drop his class altogether. I chuckled and looked at my open computer momentarily, knowing full well that I needed the credit or else I wouldn’t graduate high school.

“Why would she not bring it here?” He cried.

At that, the class laughed. I laughed too, for a time, before I retorted a simple response.

“Well, to be fair, Mr. Wilson,” I sighed dramatically, “I did give you some donuts this morning in thanks for the Starbucks gift card you got me.”

“Touché,” He laughed before checking the time on his computer, seeing there was only one minute left of that class. “Alright, you guys can go. See you guys later.”

After that, the day flew by, each class seeming to be shorter and shorter with each one that passed. After some announcements given to the school by Paul, the music teacher, I was finally able to make it to the fourth and final period of the day. I sat down in my seat and looked around the sweeping room that everyone knows to be the Uncommons. From the three other classrooms and to the front and to the side of me, I could faintly hear different students from different rooms either talking about random things or doing their homework that was assigned that week. One by one, my friends trickled in each one sitting at the round table that we had claimed for ourselves at the beginning of the year. We were all in our most casual attire, seeing as the school lets us take a break from wearing our black, navy, or khaki pants and varying array of school approved shirts.

When we were all freshman, there were seven of us, and we called ourselves the Seven Deadly Sins for shits and giggles at one point, but within the first two years of high school, two had already left the group, either because they didn’t want to hang out with the group or everyone had so much disdain for them that they were, in ways, exiled from the group. Sure, either Tanya or I would talk to that one friend that was exiled at times, but Tanya was the only one who would ever talk to her; more often than not, I would ignore her entire existence, which can be seen as rude when one knows that I was friends with her since the sixth grade, but what’s the point in a friendship when one of them is so toxic one can hardly breathe. In the end, the friends around me were the ones I knew were going to last me a lifetime.

“So, what do you have planned for the party, Amelia?” Artemis queried, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Well, I was thinking we could go on a movie marathon, eat some sushi and pizza, and pull out my Ouija board that my sisters’ friend gave me today…?” I asked more than I said as I fiddled with the felt ears on my Spock socks that I had gotten a few years before. “I mean, we don’t have to do it in that exact order.”

“Now that’s what I call a party,” A voice came from behind me, the smell of pizza wafting into my nose.

I jolted upright and gasped, my foot falling to the cement flooring. In truth, I had forgotten that I had ordered pizza right before announcements. Pulling out my wallet my school bag, I grabbed 20 bucks and handed it to the pizza man, in turn, he handed me my pizza. As he was handing my pizza, the breadsticks sliding off of the top of the pizza boxes and with the shock of the sliding breadsticks, the pizza man almost dropped the pizza. Reflexes kicking, I grabbed the breadsticks, all the while steadying the hand of the pizza man. For a time, the world was at a standstill.

“Damn, Cas, where’d’ya learn that trick?” The man asked, clearly referencing Supernatural, a show that’s been running since 2005.

“I dunno,” I said aloud, almost incomprehensibly, before giggling lightly. “The pizza man?”

My friends snickered behind me, especially Artemis, who understood that reference more than any of my other friends did. I thanked the man for the pizza before I sat the pizza, soda, and breadsticks on the table.

“I just got the basic stuff with stuffed crust. Hope you guys don’t mind,” I said as I got a slice of both pepperoni and Hawaiian.

As soon as I said that, everyone started to grab some of their own food. Each person took a different amount of slices of their pizza and breadsticks that was provided. We were soon stuffing ourselves with pizza, disregarding the endless pile of essays and projects that we had to complete. Leaning to the center of the table, I grabbed the soda and upon opening, the soda bubbled and fizzed inside. Realizing neither I nor my friends didn’t have a cup to drink from, I stood.

“Do you guys want to get you some cups?” I asked, turning slightly towards the direction of the school kitchen.

Each one of them nodded in agreement as they took a bite of their pizza before I headed off to the kitchen for some cups, glad that the school provided clean cups for the students. The next hour and a half soon passed by like a blur, the pizza was mostly eaten, and the soda bottle had been finished off by then. The next thing we knew, it was 3:15 and students were being released by their Study Hall teacher, the halls becoming filled with a sea of freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Some of the teachers and the principal saw the students, partially glad that they were now able to go home and relax and probably crack open a beer with a friend or a spouse. In all that chaos, I began to pack my stuff up along with my friends, letting my thoughts overwhelm my senses, drowning out those around me.

As I was packing up my stuff, I felt the sun hit my face, which had blinded me temporarily. I breathed in, thinking about all the years I had spent at this school that I had almost considered a second home. Hell, I’ve been going to the same school since my sixth year. Not to mention that I’ve even spent the night here for an annual event that most of the school population would go to, even if they needed an IV that consisted of the strongest coffee ever in their arm the next morning because of how tired they were. To think that I’ll be graduating in a few months…

“Kinslayer, you okay?” Layla asked, using the nickname I earned in freshman year.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking about graduation,” I sighed softly.

She nodded as she finished packing up the stuff that she brought with her that day. Most of the students had gone by then, either on the bus or in their cars, however, some students remained, due to the fact that their parents hadn’t come to pick them up yet. Teachers talked amongst themselves about the plans they had for the weekend or grumbled about the pile of papers they had to grade. Swinging my bag on my shoulders, I turned to look at the desk of my Literature teacher, Mr. Barnes. He sat there with his hand over his mouth, eyes scanning something before him. As if sensing I was looking, he looked towards me and smiled, beckoning me towards him. When I arrived within earshot that didn’t cause him to yell, he spoke.

“How does it feel to be 18?” He asked, his smile still on his face. I shrugged.

“I still feel the same as if I was still 17,” My reply came easy, seeing as I had always felt the same whenever my birthday came around, besides the fact that the burden of voting and actual adult things now rested upon my shoulders. “Nothing feels too different.”

As if on cue, I felt a familiar presence behind me. Turning, my thoughts had been confirmed. I saw Blakely, who is Mr. Barnes’ wife and my old eighth-grade science teacher, and smiled. I took a step back and turned, leaning in for a hug, a traditional greeting between Blakely and me. The hug was brief, seeing as Blakely pulled away, pulling something wrapped in wrapping from out of her bag. Grinning, I took the gift from her with a small smile that didn’t leave my face for a good while. I looked up from the gift, brushing my hair from off of my shoulder.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to get me something,” I said. Blakely shrugged and smiled in response.

Taking it as a partial sign to open the present, I gently opened the wrapping. The package was oblong and about a foot and a half in length. When the wrapping was completely off, I saw an innately carved box made of oak with hinges on one side and an easy-to-open lock on the other. Upon opening the wooden box, I saw a wand made of polished wood. The design of didn’t look as if it belonged to any character from Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts, having already memorized most of the wands that each character had in their possession. My jaw dropped, having realized that the wand before me looked exactly like the one I had on Pottermore. The wand was twelve, almost thirteen inches, aspen wood, and when I held it in my hand and bent it slightly, it was surprisingly flexible. The wand in my hand was amazingly balanced and easy to hold. I waved it around, mentally reciting Alohamora and Expelliarmus. It was perfect.

“If I’m going, to be honest,” I said as I held the wand closer to my face to get a closer look at the glittering woodwork, “I feel like I could kill a man with this thing.”

Both Mr. Barnes and Blakely laughed at my comment, knowing full well that I often used dark humor, or just humor in general, to express how I felt. By then, my friends had gathered around to examine the wand I had received moments earlier, each one of them amazed at the delicate work that was put into the wand itself. Smiling one more time, I turned to the two teachers before me and said goodbye, thanking them for the gift, and headed towards the door.

When leaving the building, the air felt crisp and smelled faintly of warm maple and smoky bonfires from late nights past, making it therapeutic in more ways than one. On top of that, the weatherman had forecasted that there would be a thunderstorm that would start around midnight. Looking into the mostly empty student parking lot, my car was nowhere to be found. Confused, I pulled the keys from my bag to press the unlock button to open my car, only to realize that the keys in my hand were drastically different compared to the keys that I had this morning. My brow furrowed, perplexity written all over my face. Practically hearing the grins on the faces of my friends, I turned to them for answers.

“Look to your left,” Tanya grinned. I was about to ask why, but she just shook her head. “Just do it; you won’t regret it.”

Slowly looking to my left, I saw the thing that had wanted ever since I was thirteen: a sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. In shock, I froze in my spot. I could hardly breathe as I let the tears fall from my eyes.

“Is this some sort of joke?” I asked as I turned to meet the eyes of my friends, tears still flowing freely from my eyes.

Each one of them shook their head, telling me that the car I was seeing was, in fact, something to I could call my own. My voice cracked with emotion as I struggled to emit a laugh that miserably failed, despite my attempt. I stepped towards the car, resting the tips of my fingers on the passenger side of the engine, slowly running them along the sleek paint, eyes closed. Slowly walking around to the front of the car, my palm making full contact with the hood of the engine, my eyes fluttered open, finally laying eyes on the sight that I had only dreamed of having. My eyes flickered over to my friends a couple of yards away, the biggest grin on my face.

“Get in losers,” I said through a laugh as I ran towards the driver’s door. “We’re going kinslaying!”

As if on cue, my friends climbed into the car, laughing as they did so and upon them entering the car, the keys were already in the ignition. My wrist flicked forward, making the engine roar to life. The next thing I knew, I was pulling out of the parking lot, heading onto I-95. During the car ride home, needless to say, was home to endless bouts of laughter, music, and future inside jokes that we would forever share and treasure in our hearts, no matter the circumstances.

~~~

The smiles on both my face and my friends’ faces grew instantaneously as I turned onto the dirt that lead to my house. I stepped on the gas pedal, making trails of dust into the air behind me. Over bumps, railroad tracks, branches, and small rocks and cracks in the road, I was finally able to pull into the gravel driveway of my house, the sight of my smiling Great Pyrenees Hope and ducks greeting me. Putting the car in park, I hopped out of the car and ran up to Hope, scratching her behind the ears.

“Hello, goofus, my floopy puppy!” The words came out muffled seeing as I had now buried my face in Hope’s snow white fur as I was now hugging my dog tightly, even though I had seen her that morning before I had headed off to school. “Hmm, I love you, goofball, even though you can be a dumbass.”

I could hear Layla snort with laughter behind me while the others chuckled their own response to my odd greeting to my dog. And with that, we headed inside and the partying began.

———————————————————————

Authors Note: Hey, beans! I hope you guys liked the first chapter, it took me quite a while to right. Sorry if it seemed like I was writing a Supernatural or a Harry Potter fanfiction at first (I promise that’ll change in about a chapter or two). I’m also sorry if it seemed weird at any point. This chapter was mainly for an introduction to the characters and plot I have in mind. Besides that, I just wanted to tell you guys that I was planning on writing the rest of the book in the third person, seeing as I would be able to write a bit more for you, not to mention that I’ll be able to get in more detail that should help the story flow more smoothly. I’ll also try and write more about what the other girls are thinking instead of it being all in Amelia’s head. Comment down below and tell me who you’d like the next chapter to be focused on.

Tag List:

@phantomxqueen3

@calicoskatts

@princessofthefandomrealm

@buggre-alle-thisss-ineffability

@pancakesause195

[vampiricalthorns]

Piercings and Pastels pt 2

Yo, so it’s finally here! Just ... 17 months too late. This is a continuation of Piercings and Pastels one-shot that I posted ages ago. There will maybe be a part 3 to this if I can be bothered to write it. I really do spend a lot of time on creating content, and even though I don’t post original stuff as often as I probably should... anyway, there’s a link to my ko-fi in my blog description if you want to support my content.

“And therefore, the sum of this equation will be …”

Will sighed, looking down at the notes he had so nicely drawn in red and black. Math class had never been of his favourites, but he was well aware that it was a subject he wanted to be good at. He did care a lot about school, even if he happened to be punk as fuck and wasn’t hesitant to have slightly questionable style choices. Will knew that his sister Kayla wanted him to have the best shot at life possible, and that was why she kept criticising his clothing.

“Mr Solace, are you paying attention?”

Will looked up sheepishly. “What?”

“I asked you if you could be so nice to tell us the answer on the blackboard.” The teacher was glaring down on him, and Will could have a fair guess that he was not too happy with Will’s inattention.

Will looked at him, and then to the board. Realising he had not solved the equation, he caught Nico’s look and peeked into his notebook for the answer. “X is 8, and Y is 4.5.”

The teacher looked at him for a minute before nodding. “That’s correct Mr Solace, but please refrain from spacing out in my classes in the future.”

Will ruffled his hair and looked up at the big Starbucks symbol hanging over the entrance door. He took a deep breath and walked inside, being ambushed by the warm, coffee-scented air as opposed to the slightly chillier outside weather that did not smell like coffee. He had agreed earlier that week to meet Nico at the Starbucks so that they could work through their ridiculous amounts of math homework. Will was taking a fair guess that their teacher was not terribly happy with how inattentive his class actually was to his teaching.

“Hi, Will! Over here!” Will heard someone call from further inside the store. He looked around for the black mop of wavy hair that belonged to his now best friend. Today, Nico was dressed in pastel galaxy leggings, the same brown boots as he had worn the last couple weeks and an oversized pink knit sweater.

He slung himself into the chair opposite Nico. “What’s up?”

Nico smiled- the type of smile where he closed his eyes and held his hands up to his chest as if he was about to flap them. Will thought that was oddly cute. “Not much. Work’s drowning us as usual, but at least that’s an excuse to be productive.”

Will nodded. “Should I go get something to drink while you figure out exactly what we should do today and what we can wait with for later in the week?”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, Will put his bag down and got up. Placing himself at the back of the line, he looked over at where Nico was reading in his planner while pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. The purple hair clips didn’t look like they were there for anything than decoration. Cute.

He had only known Nico for a little under two weeks now, but it felt like they had been friends for way longer than that. He was like a missing childhood friend Will had only just met again, but he knew that was impossible. Will let a small smile slip as he looked up at the menu for what to get. Nico seemed like a hot chocolate person. Or maybe a Frappuccino.

“One Coffee Mocha and one Hot Chocolate please,” he told the barista, who nodded and then told him the sum of what he had to pay. After paying, he stepped to the side and looked out of the window.

They were just a couple weeks into the school year, but Will didn’t feel overworked like he usually did. Will had easily fallen into the routine of working along with Nico, who had surprisingly good control of schoolwork and when stuff was due.

“What did you get me?” Nico asked curiously when Will came back to the table and put down two cups. Will looked at him, suddenly slightly anxious that he had gotten the wrong thing for his friend. “You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I just got you hot chocolate. Was that okay?”

Nico looked surprised for the fraction of a second before grabbing the cup with both of his hands and smiling up at Will- the same adorable scrunched-up eyes smile that made Will’s legs just the tiniest bit weaker. No, we will not fall for this person now, William, even though you already did, you dumb fuck.

“Thank you, Will,” Nico said earnestly. “I thought you were going to get me coffee, but hot chocolate is just as okay. Really. I enjoy hot chocolate too.”

Will sat down again and thought for a moment before pushing his cup of coffee over to where Nico was sitting. “You can have a sip or two if you need caffeine. That’s really okay. I don’t mind sharing at all.”

“It’s a nice apartment you got,” Nico commented after Will had locked himself into his and Kayla’s apartment. It was later in the day, and Will had invited Nico over for food and video games- if Nico was up to video games of course. In the back of his mind, Will was very well aware of all the boxes still unpacked in their apartment.

“Thanks,” Will replied, throwing his keys into the bowl on the small table they kept in the hallway. It was filled with what looked like Kayla’s asthma medication (Will knew she kept one in her bag too, so she was good, a pack of chewing gum and what looked like post:it notes and pens. “It’s a bit messy since we only moved in here like three weeks ago.”

Nico shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s not like my home is pristine at all times too. We’re all human, Will.”

Will snorted and flashed Nico a creepy grin, one that made his lip piercing glint in the hallway light. “Are you sure about that, di Angelo? For all you know, I could be a demon preparing to steal and devour your soul.”

Feeling accomplished that he had made Nico laugh, Will made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He hadn’t had enough to drink that day, and to be entirely honest, he was aware that his head was not too happy about that. “Do you want a glass of water too, Nico?”

He turned around when he heard the sound of soft socks moving over the laminate floor. There was Nico, hands hidden inside the oversized sweater and dragging his feet across the floor. His feet- clad with soft purple socks. What an adorable person.

He didn’t hear Nico’s answer. “What did you say again?”

Nico laughed again. “No, it’s okay, Will. Yes, I would like a glass of water, thank you.”

Will turned around again and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap, trying his best to hide his blush. He was sure that the water was safe to drink.

“Thank you for helping me out with homework today,” Will mentioned as he handed Nico the glass. “I’m a horrible procrastinator unless someone kicks my butt the entire time I’m working.”

He put down his glass next to the sink and looked at Nico. “I need to go to the bathroom, but I will be right back. If you want, you can wait in my room. Second to the right down the hallway.”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, he left the kitchen, walked down the hallway and into the bathroom, sinking down against the wall with a sigh. He was falling. Hard.

Why am I doing this to myself? Will thought desperately, staring at himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a teenager with faded red-dyed hair, piercings and a black band merch hoodie. It had been through the wash so many times that it was impossible to read exactly which band it was. He knew though, and somehow Nico had too. My Chemical Romance was always recognisable.

Deciding that he had stayed long enough in the bathroom for it to be convincing that he hadn’t just contemplated 666 ways of isolating himself from the world because he was an emotional little shit, Will flushed the toilet and left the room. He took yet another deep breath before walking into his bedroom, where Nico was sitting on his office chair. “You look like a child when you swing your legs back and forth like that.”

Nico rummaged through his pockets and dug out a lollipop, ripping off the wrapper before sticking it into his mouth. “Do you mind that?” The look he sent Will made Will’s heart skip a beat. How dare you be so adorable you little shit. This is unfair because I really want to kiss you but what if you don’t want to kiss me. This is kinda awkward.

“Not really no,” Will admitted, slumping down on his bed, shielding his eyes from the harsh bedroom ceiling light. “I can’t handle all the light. Nico, protect me!”

Nico sighed, kicking Will’s shin with one of his floofy-socks-clad feet. “Oi, you’ll survive. Get over it. It’s not like the ceiling light will give you a sunburn or anything like that.”

Will looked at him through the curly dark red fringe. “Are you honestly sure about that? Don’t test me here, I can manage everything if I try hard enough.”

“Sure, because you can fly. I’ll believe it when I see it, Solace,” Nico said, not quite able to hide the smile and giggles.

Will didn’t even reply to that as he stared at Nico, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself if Nico continued to act like the cutest person alive. God damn it, he wasn’t supposed to deal with complicated feelings like this. Love really was a weird thing.

He coughed, trying to clear his throat, although there was nothing to clear. “Is there anything, in particular, you want to eat? I can order pizza.”

Nico nodded. “No, pizza sounds good. I don’t eat it a lot, but pizza is always good.”

After discussing back and forth for a couple minutes trying to find something they both liked, they settled for something along the lines of ham and mushrooms (neither of them liked the mushrooms, but they were always peel-off-able so it wasn’t an issue.)

They ate the pizza discussing different tv shows they had watched recently, but it quickly turned into a heavy debate and rant about the shitty teachers at school.

“The English teacher, Mr Reynolds, is shit,” Nico argued. “He’s always mean to me because my English isn’t perfect and he hates Italians for a reason I don’t even understand. I think his life goal is to see me fail, although I wish him good luck with that since I manage to score well on every single test.”

“He’s not the best, no,” Will agreed. “But the history teacher is worse. Or, the worst, Blackwell, math. He’s the nightmare of nightmares. I don’t like him at all. Especially with the amount of homework he sent us home with this week.”

Nico nodded, a piece of cheese hanging out from the side of his mouth. Will had to fight the urge to remove it. “That was ridiculous. He can’t expect that much of us this early in the term.”

“Well, apparently he doesn’t care that we have to sit an hour longer every night solving equations and trig questions,” Will muttered, staring towards his backpack that was on the couch, containing the damned math homework they had barely made a dent in. “I need to go buy more paper Monday afternoon. I’m out of grid loose leaf paper after all the homework.”

“I can give you some if you remind me tomorrow night to put some more in my backpack,” Nico offered around a giant piece of pizza. “Should last you through Monday at least so that you can go after school and get more. I can come with you if you want to. I need to get more whiteout anyways so I might as well get it done then so I can stop borrowing yours all the time.”

Secretly, Will hadn’t minded that Nico had borrowed his whiteout, even though he was running low too. It wasn’t like both of them wrote everything perfectly on the first try.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Will! We-el! I’m here! Behind you!” Nico shoved his way through the school corridor calling for Will. “Will! You big emo oaf, stop so I can catch up to you!”

Will turned and looked down, where he saw a pastel figure fight his way through the sea of navy and beige trying to get to him. He motioned towards the door in the gesture of “I will meet you outside so I don’t get killed by the rest of year 10 for causing a clot in the school circulatory system.

Will quickly got out of the door and closed the flap on his bag while waiting for Nico. He had barely lasted through the day, being out of whiteout (he had given the very rest to Nico and resorted to writing with pencil most of the day which he typically didn’t like but it was worth it), but he had somehow managed. He had remembered to bring his wallet (a personal achievement in his opinion, considering how forgetful he usually was) and his crush on Nico was (as always) very present.

He looked at Nico fighting his way out of the mob of students either getting to a new class or leaving and smirked.

“Are you okay there, Nic?” Will said, teasingly bending down to the same height as Nico’s offended face. He knew that Nico was sensitive about his height, and truth be told, Will loved teasing him about it.

Nico scoffed and crossed his arms. “Don’t call me that.”

Will just laughed and ran his hand through his hair before staring in the general direction of the bus stop. “So, do you wanna go to the tiny bookstore around here somewhere and get paper and whiteout or do you wanna go to the city and get what we need and some coffee afterwards?”

Nico smiled up at him. “That sounds nice.”

And Will melted slightly inside.

[mpmwrites]

Maybe, Maybe

Here’s my fic for Day 3 of Hankvin week (A Day late...) It’s Secret Admirer Au, also At Work! Enjoy some awkward fluff!

Gavin's never called himself happy. He's content, he figures, and that's plenty good enough. He shows up to work, does his job, goes home. He pays his bills on time and watches TV in the evenings and eats decently. He, at 32 years old, is doing everything correctly at least, and that was more than he probably deserves. Maybe he was lucky. He got to hang out with his best friend every day, he and Tina working beat and getting shit done, proving their worth one arrest at a time.

About eight months after he's earned his uniform, he brings in some asshole that was mugging a teenager on Griffin Street, and it turns out to be the lead suspect in one of the precinct's major cases, albeit one he's not involved in. It earns him more than a few claps on the shoulder, and the following day there's a small folded paper taped to his locker.

Nice job bringing Ivers in. You're an asset to the precinct. Keep it up.

There's a little smile at the bottom of it in way of a signature, and that's it. He stuffs it into his pocket and changes without thinking on it too hard. A few days later, there's another note.

Look up.

Gavin does so, and sees a cup from the donut shop down the street with a paper bag next to it perched atop his locker. He has to stand on the bench to reach it. He muses over that same little smiley as he eats the sprinkled donut in four bites.

A month later he gets the bug that’s going around and leaves early with the constant vomiting and all. He wasn't getting any work done anyway. The next day sees another note. He's exhausted and dehydrated as hell, but at least he isn't sick anymore.

They taste like ass, but will kick the rest of the nausea to hell.

Taped next to the smiley are five yellow-wrapped chewy candies with some kind of non-phonetic writing on them, and in English said the word 'Ginger' with little lemons depicted. Gavin pocketed the gift and tossed the note on the shelf in his locker with the others.

He tells Tina about the notes when she asks what he's eating and why he looks like he wants to cry about it. She probes him on who he thinks it is, and he really has no idea. She starts calling them his secret admirer, and the term annoys him more than it should. It does pose the question though, as to why they'd stay anonymous even though they left him a note at least once weekly.

Secret admirer is it then. He tries not to let it take his focus away. He's good at his job, and is proud of that, and doesn't need a distraction. He tries not to lean to heavily on Thursday mornings, and, when, the week after his birthday, there's nothing taped to his locker, he pretends not to be disappointed.

Tina notices anyway, pokes at him for moping around and barely even faking interest in pulling over some asshole that cuts them off on the highway. He tells her what happened and she rolls her eyes. He didn't even know who it was, she says, so there's no use feeling a loss over someone that practically didn't exist.

Still, he holds out hope for the following week, and when the radio silence stretches over months he barely offers the scraps in his locker a passing thought. It was fin while it lasted; made his days a little bit better, but it was done. In April, he's told he's going to be moving to detective, something he's wanted since before he even started at the DPD. Since Anderson's been unreliable (at best), they need more officers to step up, and Tina's already turned down the offer.

So he steps right into missing persons. When he's not on cases he helps out with the CPS stuff he always made time for, his degree in social work padding his capability. Tina always said it one of his few redeeming traits, that he likes kids, and he always played it off as a dream deferred. He pours himself headlong into work and putters away through cases as the world moves on around him and scrawled notes turn yellow in his locker.

As his birthday passes again, he pulls them out and tosses them in the recycling bin on his way home for the night. It was nice, to have been wanted, but whoever it was had clearly lost interest, and the knowledge had soured him. He was too old to be pining over some handwriting that occasionally accompanied donuts.

By the time another note appears, it's close to Christmas. The sight takes him by surprise, and the contents are nothing even similar to their predecessors.

It's hardest at Christmas, I think. You seem to like Christmas plenty enough though.

There's no smiley this time, but there is an arrow pointing above his locker, where there's a cup of coffee steaming away. Upon inspection, it's a peppermint mocha. Someone's noticed that that's what he'd been drinking for the past month or so. The cryptic words gave him pause, but had him leaving the note in his locker and moving on for the day. Tina probes him as to why he didn't bring her coffee, and he doesn't have the balls to tell her how he really got it.

It just seems silly. Something for highschoolers and romantic comedies. He fights the smile that each correspondence brings. They're more personal, more intimate, as time passes, more fitting into the true concept of a Secret Admirer. Gavin isn't about to admit just how much he likes it.

Do you have a resolution for the new year? You should try to smile more, I like seeing you smile.

 It's supposed to snow this weekend, please be safe. It would suck not seeing you around.

 New Jacket? It suits you.

 Looks like your case is struggling. It's nice seeing you around the bullpen more, but I hope you get a lead soon.

Valentine's Day is coming up. Big plans?

It's the first time the note as really invited a response. A single red rose is laid atop his locker and he picks at the thorns that hadn't been removed, like it had been cut from a rosebush rather than pulled from a bouquet. It's the first time Gavin really needs to know who's been leaving the notes. Because, he wanted to say No, in hopes of them finally revealing themselves, but the urge to say Yes was just as strong. He was afraid of the possibility. What if he hated them? What if he like them too much? What if he had it all wrong, and they were just being friendly?

No plans.

He tapes the piece of paper back to his locker and makes a quick escape. He doesn't sleep much that night, counting the hours until he can get up and head back to work. He's exhausted enough the next day that he dozes off on the rhythmic rock of the bus and nearly misses his stop. Thankfully, one of the other usual passengers jostles him awake and he stumbles onto the sidewalk, rubbing his eyes as he enters the building.

He tries to muster energy from the few fits of sleep he'd gotten so he doesn't look so beat. He almost misses the note in his focus to remember his locker code and doesn't think to take it down until he's sitting and changing his shoes.

Will you let me change that? I get it if not, this whole thing is

I don't know.

He takes the note back to his desk to muse over as he fills out paper work and drowns himself in the mediocre break room coffee. It's distracting, but he leaves the paper on his desk, there for anyone to see, for someone to see. He never figures out what he wants to answer, and when he's on his way out there's a new note.

Yeah. Sorry. Too forward, I guess. I guess maybe you're not sure who I am. Maybe that's better. Save myself the embarrassment and our coworkers from having to deal with the awkward stuff.

He leaves both notes from the day in his locker again, rubbing over his eyes and not even trying to process. Was he disappointed? Guilty, maybe.

Self sabotage, probably. He settles on that as he heads in the next day, and isn't expecting anything more. Having slept on it, he figures he should have at least said something. But, they were probably right, it was better this way, even if it felt exponentially shitty for the moment.

Thank you, for indulging me for a while, I guess. I'm glad you liked the coffees; I would have liked to take you out for one, maybe.

There wasn't supposed to be a note there. The one from the previous night had felt final, should have been final. Maybe this one was posed as a second chance. Maybe it was one last plea.

I usually like to go to Starbucks on lunch. The one on 17th St has the best baristas.

He hesitates, staring at his own handwriting before taping it back on his locker. Now or never, Gavin. He glances back at it again before heading to his desk.

He taps his fingers on the back of his portable from his place  on the bench seat at a small table. He tries to focus on getting a little more work done. Tries to check his damn email, or do anything other than watch the door. It's not working. During a lull in business, Reagan calls to him from behind the counter and jokes about him just coming for the company, he laughs, timidly offers that he's waiting for someone. He hopes he actually is.

Nearly twenty minutes of sitting there has him ready to leave, but he has an hour for lunch and really should eat at least. He makes his way to the counter, knowing that if he gets his lunch, then he's resigning himself to the knowledge of nobody showing up. He orders an egg white wrap and his usual mocha. She gives the total and he pulls out his wallet, dropping a dollar bill into her tip jar to a cheery 'Thank you'. He glances at the door one more time before extracting his bank card to wave over the credit card machine; it beeps. She promises it'll be ready in just a minute and she'll brig it over to him, no she doesn't mind.

He doesn’t want to be upset. Doesn't want to feel rejected. He focuses on eating, dripping sriracha from the packet over the wrap as he eats in large bites, relishing in the way it fills him up. He texts Tina and tells her what's been going on, and why he didn't invite her to lunch.

"When I said I wanted to take you for coffee, I figured I'd buy it for you." comes an almost familiar voice.  Gavin snaps away from his phone.

"Anderson?" Gavin's astonished, thumbs held mid-text

"Yeah." Hank shrugs from across the table.

"It was fucking you, all this time?" Hank winces frowns,

"Sorry to disappoint." He looks away, hands in his pockets. There's a long beat of quiet.

"What took you so long?" Gavin pushes the chair out for Hank to sit down, all aggression gone.

Hank sits, and offers a small smile across the table.