#joe is (to borrow her words) the guy on the screen coming straight home to her and her one and only her lifeline

[septembersghost]

What do you think is the actual deal between Harry and Taylor? Because they seem to be each other's muses- and with the lyrical back and forth that's been going on, EVEN AFTER A DECADE- it can't be nothing. They give off major soulmates vibes (musical-wise) and even relationship-wise (although they could also be star-crossed lovers) with such shitty timing everytime 😂 i've supported joe and taylor for years, but I've got this inkling in my mind like someway and somehow, H and T might still find their way back to each other. Joe just seems meh :/ tbh.

i almost feel like i shouldn't answer this because it's a bit loaded, but it's 3:30 am so why not 😅💕

i'm going to first defer to my friend @cowboylikedean who said:

"they can be soulmates, but not romantically. Consider: their whole relationship has been leading to a friendship which was always destined, but needed a contextual foundation that only an ill defined on again off again/only communicating through sex then song could create. Consider that. Joe is Taylor's forever person. doesn't mean Harry has to be nobody."

we don't know if they've forged a friendship behind closed doors or not, and whether we ever know anything about that is up to them. their interaction at the grammys was warm and familiar, which at the very least speaks to their feelings of respect and kindness towards one another as artists and people. taylor's support for him was clearly genuine (though you could say that of her support for basically everyone in that room). i think it's really important and meaningful to acknowledge that there are a vast array of dynamics that can be considered a soul connection - not only romantic, but familial, platonic/friendship, artistic, those can all be transcendent and vibrant relationships too. i personally feel there's a soul element and connection within their music that needed to exist as a spark to get them where they are today. (had they not been what they were to each other, what would their careers even look like? what would 1989 be? what would hs1 be? etc) and they were also, in many ways, peers when they were together, and in unique positions of fame at a young age that most other people couldn't understand. their timing was consistently wrong/off, but that connection in their hearts and art still came through clearly. to me, it's part of the invisible string - they had to meet and have that complicated on/off thing and have love for one another to be on the paths where they were supposed to go, in different ways, and to be able to stand in a room together where they're both succeeding and both feeling gratitude for what all of that meant.

i think it's a disservice to joe to...not pay attention to what taylor has explicitly said about him, and why that relationship is so different and profound for her. i've seen a LOT of commentary lately about him being boring and not "getting" their connection, and it strikes me as somewhat unfair because we don't see it, we're not privy to it, and we shouldn't be, that is very much by their design. (she did say romance isn't dead if you keep it just yours!) but because someone like h is sparkly and charismatic and a musician, and joe is somewhat more reserved and less obviously visible and an actor, there's this sense that we "know" him less, which can easily seem less interesting, but keep in mind that how any fan sees him and how taylor herself sees and describes him are totally different. he's home to her, he's that gorgeous dream to her, he's the daylight to her, and that's what matters. he's who she's built her life with and found her peace with for many years now, and vice versa. h hasn't found that yet, but i hope he does. but that doesn't necessarily mean harry has to be nothing to her. whether that's fondness and recognition of their influences on one another and gentle nods to the past, or whether that comes in actual friendship, i think it's really important and valuable to acknowledge that the soul connection can happen and NOT be romantic, or initially be romantic/sexual and then transform into something else later, and it's no less of a cosmic pull. in one way or another, they'll always be connected, even if it remains in lyric and melody - and that's also always going to keep having a life of its own.

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[i-am-parsec]

Unaddressed Letters - Part V

                                                           Leaving Jacksonville - part I

The night they leave is warm and quiet. End of the summer, the streets downtown are still fairly crowed after the sun goes down, Stacy has some costumers roaming around the thrift shop while Chase, just across the street, sweats in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant, trying to leave no meat uncooked and no drink without ice.

During a brief moment of precious spare time, he checks his phone.

“Call me when you are done with the dishes, kitchen boy" reads the screen.

His heart skips a beat and he frowns. Of course she’s texting him, they are friends. They go back home together every single night after work. This is not something worth a heart-beat skipping, when the fuck is his brain going to get the memo?

He can’t continue his internal screaming - those burritos aren’t going to make themselves.

The young girl puts her phone away as an old man approaches the counter. Dark eyes, whitening short brown hair, a full goatee and about two heads taller than her. He doesn’t look scary per se, but neither does he look friendly and yet Stacy is invaded by an strange feeling of warm comfort when met by this unknown client and ponders, for a second, why. When it clicks, her hands freeze. She keeps her gaze glued on the light blue shirt she’s bagging, choking back the tears. It’s always like this, something ordinary, unimportant, pulls the trigger and the pain rushes to her eyes. She manages to snap out of it, but not without the man noticing.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?”

Fuck, even his voice is similar. She fails at smiling and looks away.

“Yes, sir, it’s just…you look a lot like...uh, my dad. Well, not a lot, it’s mostly the beard...I think…”

As she looks down, it’s impossible to deny the burn in her throat and the shaking of her hands. Not now, please, not here. Crying during working hours in a thrift shop that’s probably – totally – laundering drug money.

Well, that’s a new low.

“Did you lose him recently?” asks the man gently, prompting her to look up.

“No, I…I lost him when I was kid. He was shot…a robbery gone wrong…”

He nods, no trace of pity in his features, only compassion and understanding. Maybe he lives in town, maybe he also lost someone in the hands of the corrupted and greedy. Maybe he knows this pain too.

“I’m sorry to tell you, darling, that it won’t ever stop hurting, especially in your case, a loss so unfair, but let me tell you this…” the old man stops for a second, and then, with more conviction than Stacy has ever witnessed in her entire life “…you are strong enough to handle this and any other nonsense that life throws at you. You just gotta remember that, always."

Her phone buzzes for a long minute but she doesn’t pick up. She’s still holding her breath when he gives her the money. She wants to tell him to not worry about it, the shirt is on her, but with such a tight budget, every cent counts. All she can do is smile and thank him.

Another call. She tries her best to sound calm but Chase can tell something's wrong in the tiredness of her "hey". She explains quickly, hoping to ease his friend's mind - he's already anxious mess by default, wouldn't want to fuel it up - and after repeating at least ten times "yes, Chase, I swear I'm ok now", she sighs and then asks.

"Can we go down to the bar tonight?"

There's a second of silence. She hates drinking or, to be more precise, she hates seeing him drinking. She claims he likes it a bit too much for his own good. She continues.

"I'll hurry up and close this dumpster in a minute, and then we go straight down to Joe's, what do you say?"

He knows what his friend is doing, she's avoiding herself, avoiding the thinking, the pain and honestly, he can't blame her. He's been there, done that, and she always stayed by his side whenever he went into Emotionless Drunk Mess mode, so he has no problem returning the favor now.

"I say I'm covered in sweat, blood and other unknown bodily fluids so maybe we go home and take a shower first?"

When she laughs, he feels his heart become a little lighter.

"First of all: ew, gross; secondly: We take shower? Are you suggesting we take it together, Brody?"

And there it is, that's the Stacy he knows and loves - a teasing smart ass. This time though, he doesn't let her words fluster him - too much - and attacks back.

"Of course, Walters, we gotta do it for the environment's sake, you know? We gotta save water!"

"Oh, yeah, totally, that’s why, it has nothing to do with you dying to see me naked."

"I feel so insulted you would even dare to think that, young lady, I am a gentleman!"

"Oh, sure thing, perv. Okay, I'll finish here and meet you outside in a bit."

The smile on his face lingers all the way until he sees her walking out the store. He nods curiously at the bag on her hand. She smiles like a kid planning a prank and simply winks.

“I’m just borrowing a little something.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s called stealing, Stacy.”

She chuckles and then, as she usually does, starts a fire in his chest with just a short phrase.

“Don’t judge me, I just want to look pretty for our date.”

She’s joking, Brody, she’s fucking joking, like all friends do.

Just as they get to their stop, their bus arrives.

“This must be our lucky night” exclaims Stacy surprised. Once they are settled in their seats, she rests her head  on his shoulder and grabs his hand. Chase simply does his best to not suffer a stroke.

“We have to get out of here, dude. Soon.”

“That’s the plan” stutters the young man, wishing he could sound a bit less nervous by something that they have been doing for years now.

“Yeah, I know, but we always talk about it as a goal in the future and I…I don’t know. I feel like we shouldn’t wait too long or we might end up never leave this town” mutters Stacy with a sudden grim tone.

“Don’t say that, dude, of course we are doing it,” says her friend as her grabs her chin, looking for her eyes, all awkwardness replaced by the imperative need to bring her smile back “we promised we would, didn’t we?”

She nods half-heartedly and snuggles up against him, like a lost dog hides from the rain under a frail tree. As he hugs her, bringing her closer, he whispers against her dark hair: “Let’s set a date.”

“For our wedding? Sorry, Brody, but you haven’t even proposed to me yet” she jokes dryly.

Ignoring the sudden rush of heat on his body, he replies: “No, dumbass, for our escape!”

She come out of her shelter and looks at him with a hint of excitement on her eyes.

“A date?”

“Yeah, a date. Tell me when you want to leave.”

She bites her lower lip - one of her many quirks that drives him insane - and inhales slowly. As she breathes out, she answers: “End of this year. That should give us enough time to save a decent amount of money, make a good plan and maybe find a place to rent.”

“Well, end of the year it is. December 31 we are getting the fuck out of Jacksonville.”

And when he laughs, she feels the whole world become a little lighter.

More info, previous chapters, tag list AND HEADCANONS under the cut

First and foremost, I apologize for any mistakes in the chapter. This one wasn’t proof-read either and on top of that I wrote it on a rush but hopefully it’s decent ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

All chapters in chronological order, here. Previous chapter, here. Next chapter, here.

SO, yes, this is a two-part chapter - truth be told, I’m only posting this now and not both parts as one since I’m quite busy and have no time to finish writing it but I still wanted to post something now as, idk, a christmas special???? whatever, I just wanted to post it, lol

Anyways, HEADCANON TIME:

* As you may have noticed in the last chapter, Chase and Stacy’s daughter - Esperanza (which, by the way, means Hope in Spanish) - has a VERY Latino name, well, that’s because my hc is that Stacy is latina! Well, half latina, her mom is latina, her dad is white and because Stacy is white-passing and her mom knew about the struggles of being a Latina woman in the US, Stacy’s parents decided to give her a very white first name, so she would have it “easier” in life. Spoiler alert: she didn’t have it easier in life. Like, at all.

* Despite that, she still has a very Latino second name - Dolores (which means Pains in Spanish *winkwink*) - that she loves just as much as she loves her Latino heritage, and that’s why she named her daughter like that - Chase 100% loves the name as well.

* This is kinda spoilerish (because I will explore this headcanon in far more depth later on the fic) but I still feel you guys should know: Before they were the best of friends, Henrik and Chase were penpals - they met through an elementary school penpal project and kept writing each other all the way until adulthood, when they finally met face to face.

* Neither Chase or Stacy had pets - or were allowed to have any - by the time they became friends, but they both love animals and started feeding a cat they always came across on their way to school. They named the cat Sam.

* Stacy is allergic to cats. She loved Sam from a distance.

* Chase knows quite a bit of Spanish Stacy taugh him. She didn’t teach him just for funsies but because she ended up getting him a job in a Mexican restaurant and the owners didn’t speak English. She was very impressed by how easy it was for him to get used to the Latino enviroment and how good he turned out to be at cooking.

* Chase knows Stacy likes her second name better than her first, but sucks at pronuncing it correctly so he only call her Dolores jokingly andsometimeswhentheyhavesex

* They weren’t each others “first”, but Stacy told Chase after they did it for the first time that she had never enjoyed sex before him (and Chase almost cried because of such huge compliment).

* Esperanza is fluent in Spanish and English and knows a bit of German thanks to Uncle Henrik. Henrik is also Esperanza’s godfather.

I have way more headcanons but all of them are incredibly spoilery, so this is all you get for now. Now let’s move on to the next chap-

❤  Tag list ❤: @amyxmiaplay, @beck-pma, @closedworldofmathiel, @darktrash-drash, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @flyingfishflopsthings, @fruitycasket, @happysingingturtles, @hiimizzyxoxo, @hishex, @kitnkas, @mcomegalletas, @mijako98, @mjjau, @mysterious-cupcake-ninja, @mysticalanimallover, @novasingalaxies, @plutoandpolaris, @probablyghosting, @randomartdudette, @saltyweirdbi, @sassy-in-glasses, @scarlet--raven, @septicuniverse, @skyewardlight, @thevampireauthoress, @youllnevertaketheskyfromme

Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please reblog, that helps me a lot ❤

[beebomeebo]

Don’t Go

Type: angst/fluff

Request// “Okay so the joe fic.. The overall is basically reader takes a like pregger test and it turns out positive and reader is scared to tell how bc they weren't married but engaged and how didn't want kids atm (he eventually wanted them but like not that sec yknw) anyway he is like shocked and doesn't say anything so reader leaves and comes back and like how is upset with himself and then see reader and says that he is happy and he is sorry for making reader freak out (this is super fucking specific)

(A/N) this is gonna be hella short and this is gonna be more like a small drabble. (and by short, I mean longer than most of my smuts.) This is my first angst fic so I hop ya’ll like ittttttt. I'm also changing it a little bit. #sorry

Warnings: pregnancy, tears, angst, fluff, a little bit of alcohol, FRIENDSHIP

Pairing: Joe Trohman x Reader

Word Count: 3K

“I don’t know what I’m going to do!” I run my fingers through my hair.

“Have you told Joe yet?” Jenna asks, attempting to calm my nerves.

“Not yet.” I stare at the floor, my head spinning. “I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“Maybe it messed up? How many did you take?” Jenna places her hand on my shoulder.

“Four.”

“And they all came up as positive?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

I stand up and begin to pace in front of the couch. Suddenly, I hear Joe’s car pull up into the driveway. Jenna and I exchange worried looks. Before I could react to the situation the front door swings open.

“Hi, babe.” Joe closes the door and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Oh, hi Jenna.” He waves to Jenna- who was on the couch. Jenna waves back.

“Well, I better get going. Tyler’s making dinner.” Jenna flashes me a smile and grabs her things. As I escort her to the door she whispers, “Good luck.”

“Uh, Joe?” I turn around to an empty living room. I fidget with the ring on my finger that Joe had proposed to me with only two weeks prior.

“Yeah, babe?” He shouts from the bedroom.

“I need to tell you something.” My anxiety kicks in. Don’t tell him. He’ll leave you. No, he won’t, he loves me. No, he doesn’t. You guys aren’t ready for kids. He’s going on tour soon. What are you supposed to do when the baby can’t see his dad for the first three months of their life? Suddenly, it becomes harder to breathe and I lose my balance, crashing on the couch.

“Yeah?” Joe walks into the living room and notices me hyperventilating. He rushes to me and pulls me to his chest. He begins rocking back and forth and whispering, “Hey baby, it’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s ok.”

After about ten minutes I finally calm down enough to talk. I keep my face buried in Joe’s chest for a while longer as I attempt to silence the voices.

“Are you ok, baby?” Joe lifts my face and examines it with immense concern.

“Joe,” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “My period is late. Like, really late.”

He stares at me blankly. “Ok, well what does that mean?”

“It’s a sigh of pregnancy.” My voice trails off as Joe’s face throws into full shock. Wide eyes stare at me as if I’m a completely new person.

“A-Are you sure? Did you do a pregnancy test?” Joe shoots onto his feet.

Reaching for his hand I reply, “Yes. I did four of them.”

Joe begins to pace like I was before. “What are we going to do? We’re not even married yet!” Joe’s voice raises.

I feel tears poking at my eyes as I stammer an uncertain answer. Soon I’m completely crying in front of Joe.

“I need to think.��� Joe quickly jogs down the hallway.

“W-Where are you g-going?” I stutter through the sobs. He ignores me as he heads straight for the front door. “Wait!” I lunge to try and grasp his wrist but he slips out the door before I could catch a hold of him. The door slams and I keep my arm extended towards the door before sobbing harder and crawling up into a ball on the couch.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I finally calm myself enough to walk into mine and Joe’s bedroom. I reach for my cell phone and bring enough energy to dial Joe’s phone. Taking a deep breath, I put the phone up to my ear and listen to the other line ring. I hear a faint ring behind me and I turn around to direct my attention to it. A cell phone buzzes against the nightstand and flashes a picture of Joe and I. I pick up the phone and begin to cry harder, reminiscing the memories that Joe and I shared. I crash into the king-sized bed and sob again.

A buzzing from my own phone pulls me from my tears. Jenna’s face pops onto my screen and I try my best to pull myself together as quickly as I can before sliding my thumb across the accept button. “Hey.”

“Hey! How did it go with Joe?” I can hear voices behind her and loud music.

“He walked out on me,” I mumble.

“He what?” Jenna asks.

“He walked out. All he said was that needed to think. He left his cellphone here and I can’t get a hold of him.” My words jumble together to form one incoherent sentence. I can’t help but let myself sob again.

“Hold on. I’ll be right there.” Jenna shouts before hanging up. I let the phone fall from my fingers I stare blankly at the wooden floor. I don’t even have enough energy to cry. My body falls back into the sheets and I stare up at my ceiling.

It’s not long before I hear my front door open and Jenna’s heel clicks down the hallway. “Y/N, sweetie.” Her soft voice wraps around my brain.

“In here,” I shout, still maintaining my lifeless position.

The clicks become louder and quicker as she rounds the corner into my room. “Oh sweetie,” Jenna speaks softly, meeting me on the bed. She pulls me to sit up and holds my head to her. I begin sobbing again.

“It’s ok. Let it all out.” Jenna rubs my arm as she allows me to vent. I spill everything: how Joe makes me feel, how much I loved him, how much he made me laugh. I go on to explain that he goes on tour soon and that the baby would be born while he’s on the other side of the country.

For a while, Jenna just lets me cry. “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” she says, breaking the silence.

I sigh and nod my head. She takes my hand and leads me to my bathroom. I can’t help but stare at my reflection. Jenna snaps me from my thoughts, “The water should be warm enough.” She lets the water run against her hand. When she turns her attention back to me her face reads empathy. “I’ll help you raise them if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want this kid to grow up not knowing who his father is. I don’t want to grow up the way I did, a broken mother and a poor home.

“Oh, honey.” Jenna wraps me in a hug. “He’ll grow up with the best family ever: he’ll grow up with his cool Aunt Jenna.” She laughs.

I smile weakly at her joke and look back to her. “Thank you. This means so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” She says, wiping a tear from my cheek. “Tyler and I always talk about wanting a niece or nephew that we can spoil.” We both giggle. “I’ll let you get undressed and you enjoy the shower. Ok?” She squeezes my hand.

“I’ll try,” I say as she closes the door behind her. Quickly stripping myself of my clothes I step into the hot shower. My muscles relax under the steam and my mind slows to only think about the shower ... and puppies. After what feels like an hour, I finally decide to get out. Wrapping the towel around my body, I try to dry off everything from my neck down so I could twist my hair with the towel. “Hey, Jenna? Can you bring me another towel?” I shout through the door.

“Yeah,” she shouts back.

While I wait for Jenna, I examine my reflection; my mascara was smeared everywhere and I try my best to wipe it away. A soft knock comes from the door before opening just enough for Jenna to stick her hand in with a towel. “Thanks.” I quickly wrap the cloth around my body, covering my chest and hips. The brisk air of my room hits me as I open the door to get my pajamas.

“Oh, your pajamas are right here.” She gestures to the pile of clothing on the bed.

“You’re cool if I just change in front of you?” I ask, picking up my clothes.

“Yeah, I don’t care.” She keeps her attention focused on my TV as she flips through Netflix. “So, I was thinking either Moana or Finding Dory.”

I shoot a look at her from over my shoulder as I pull the warm underwear to my body.

“What?” She laughs. “They’re good movies!”

I shake my head at her comment, slipping into the rest of my pajamas.

“You need a musical. Moana it is!” She excitedly clicks the option.

“Does Tyler know you’re here? I mean, he must be worrying about you…” I become concerned with my friend’s relationship.

Jenna picks up her phone and clicks something I couldn’t quite see. She then presses the phone against her ear. “Hey, Ty. I’m at Y/N’s right now. I’ll probably be home sometime tomorrow.” She pauses for Tyler’s response. “Yeah, I’m going to spend the night. Y/N needs a girl’s night in,” She explains as she pulls me into a hug. I can’t help but smile at Jenna’s kindness. She says her goodbyes and exchange I love you’s with Tyler before hanging up.

“Hey, do you have any clothes I can borrow?” She asks me.

“Yeah, go ahead and look through my closet.”

She pulls out an old hoodie of mine and a pair of joggers. She quickly slips her day clothes off and pulls the comfy ones on.

She bounces to face me, an idea obviously bubbling on her lips. “You have wine, right?” I laugh, knowing exactly what type of night this was going to be. I nod and she rushes out of the room. She comes back with two wine glasses, a bottle of unopened wine and a bottle opener. Handing me a glass, she sets hers on the nightstand along with the bottle. She jams the screw part of the opener into the cork and twists it so the opener digs deeper into the bottle. I grab a hold of the base of the bottle so Jenna could try and pull the cork out. After many attempts, the cork finally pops out and sends Jenna onto the floor.

“Oh, my God!” I exclaim, trying to muffle my laughter. “Are you ok?” I set the wine bottle on the nightstand before helping her back to her feet.

“Yeah, I’ve had worse.” She laughs.

She reaches over to grab her wine glass and the wine bottle, holding the bottle in the air to toast. “To good times and better friends.” I lift my glass to toast with her before she pours the red liquid into my glass. I gradually sip the wine throughout the movie. Jenna and I joke around about the different characters and sing along to the songs. I point out the Lin Manuel-Miranda composed the music and she points out that Maui looks pretty similar to Dwayne Johnson. We laugh through the rest of the movie. As the final song plays Jenna’s tone seems to shift.

“Hey, do you think the Joe will come back?” She questions.

I glance over at his phone that was on the nightstand. “He has to,” I reply, directing my attention back to Jenna and taking a sip of my wine. She looks at me puzzled. “He left his phone.” Jenna nods and smiles.

Jenna flips on Finding Dory and I soon find myself drifting. My eyelids become heavy as I sink lower into the sheets. Noticing my sleepiness, Jeanna takes my glass from me. “Ok, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.” She takes the wine glasses and bottle to the kitchen. Once back, she crawls back under the sheets next to me.

I rest my head on Jenna’s shoulder and let my body sink into a slumber.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

My eyes flutter open as they adjust to the slightly brighter lighting. I notice my head was still on Jenna’s shoulder. I gently lift my head from her body, trying not to disturb her. I sneak out of the bed, pausing when Jenna shifts. Heading to my bathroom I comb my fingers through my hair. I look to my reflection and wash off the last bit of runny makeup I still had on from the previous night. Look back over to the nightstand and notice that Joe’s phone is still there. I shake myself from my thoughts and grab my toothbrush.

“Mmm, good morning,” a sleepy voice pulls my attention.

I smile with a mouth full of toothpaste. I spit some of it out before replying, “Good morning.”

“I had this really weird dream where you found out you were pregnant, and when you told Joe, he left and I came over the comfort you…” Her words slow down as she realizes the situation. She brings her palm to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

I shrug it off, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink. “I know it’s going to hit me hard later, but I’m just not feeling anything right now,” I explain, grabbing my brush to detangle my hair.

“Oh, ok,” says Jenna, surprised. “Well, what do you want to do today?”

I exchange looks with my reflection. “I’m feeling a movie,” I answer.

“Ooh! Yes. There’s this one movie that I want to see that just came out.” Jenna reaches for her phone off the nightstand. She unlocks it and opens Fandango. We quickly chose the movie we want to see and finish getting ready. I let her borrow one of my striped tops, a skirt and a pair of flats. “It’s crazy that I fit almost perfectly in these,” she laughs.

I leave a note on Joe’s phone that says that I’m just at the movie and when I’m most likely to be back home. Then Jenna and I do one last check to make sure we had everything before making our way to her car.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“That movie was great!” Jenna blurts as we head back to her car.

“I know, right? But can we talk about that lead actor?” I swoon at the thought of him. We both laugh as we settle into our seats.

“Did you get anything from Joe?” She asks starting up the car.

I check my notifications. “Nope.” I paint my smile into a fine line knowing that I probably won’t for a while.

Jenna scoffs. “Screw him. There are plenty of fish in the sea. And I heard the Josh is newly single.” Jenna nudges my arm.

I swat her elbow away and roll my eyes at her offer.

She smiles. “Go ahead and play your music,” she says handing me the aux chord.

“Hell yeah,” I whisper to myself.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I didn’t realize it but that ride home was what I really needed: my best friend and my favorite band blasting through the speakers.

We laugh at each other’s singing as we hop out and make our way to my front door.

“Do you want to invite the boys over and we can have a game night?” I ask Jenna as I open my door. Before a word could escape her lips we both freeze in the doorway. All I can focus on is a curly-haired man that was on my couch.

He turns around quickly and nervously. “Oh, hi Y/N,” he says.

“Hi, Joe,” I reply, hanging my purse on the hook nearby. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

Joe rubs the back of his neck, staring at his shoes he replies, “Yeah, I’m really sorry. I freaked and I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

I look over at Jenna for an answer and all she does is shrug her shoulders, giving me the exact panicked look that was plastered on my own face.

Joe continues, seeming to not even acknowledge Jenna’s presence, “I spent the night at Pete’s and I realized that I love you and that I do want to have a kid with you.” His face lifts from his feet to make eye contact with me and he steps around the couch to meet me. Taking my hand into his, Joes goes on, “I thought I wasn’t ready for a family but then I discovered: we already are a family; this would only be an addition. And I’m not leaving this child to make it go through the awful things your father made you go through.”

My heart stops as his words lap around my mind and all I can do is gape my mouth open. His eyes become watery and he tries to tuck his head away before I see a tear fall from his face. I hold onto Joe’s face with both of my hands and look at him with loving eyes that are also filled with water. Unable to form words I just crash my lips against his. His arms snake around my waist and pulls me closer to him. He picks me off my feet and spins before he gently sets me down. When we break away from the kiss I press my forehead against his.

“Does this mean I can be the Godmother?” Jenna startles us both.

“Oh, my God, Jenna. I forgot you were there,” I say awkwardly.

She shrugs it off. “It was cute. Anyways, can I be the Godmother?” She asks again, this time with more anticipation.

I exchange a look with Joe and turn back to Jenna. “Well, duh!” I announce.

Jenna jumps in excitement, almost dropping her purse. She runs toward me and Joe, bringing us into a tight embrace. “Congratulations! You guys are going to make the best parents.” Her words quickly escape her mouth and we can understand what she’s saying. Jenna suddenly gasps and breaks away from the hug. “I have to get home to Tyler to tell him about this.” She seems to instantly regret her words. “With your permission, of course.” I nod. “Yes! Ok, well, I’ll leave you two to attend to your baby business. Bye!” She gives Joe one last hug and pecks me on my cheek before skipping out the door.

Joe’s and my attention turn back to each other. “How long was she there for?”

“The whole time,” I chuckle.

Joe gives a small chuckle as he offers his hand. “Let’s go look up cute baby names.”

I lace my finger with his. “Let’s.”